“We’ll give you some privacy,” Clippersmith said as he reached for the doorknob.
“Really?” said Harr.
“We’re both military, Captain. If we can’t trust each other, who can we trust?”
“Oh, yeah,” Harr said, shifting from foot to foot. “Right.”
THAT'S AN ODD RITUAL
Veli had bypassed the main routines while investigating the static that was surrounding The Reluctant.
Keeping his mind focused on that puzzle had helped to dull the pain in his stomach. It wasn’t completely gone, but it was better. Now and then it threatened to return at full-force, though.
The only thing that he could figure out was that his system had never housed such a large true-entity before. Typically there were just people entering his fantasy software, not entire ships and accompanying crew.
“Is my tinkering impacting your processes?” he asked the computer, more worried about the fabric of his system than the AI that ran it.
“No, sir.”
“What are they doing?” Veli asked as he scanned through a mass of hexadecimal numbers.
“Who, sir?”
“That damnable Harr and his crew, you forked process,” Veli said irritably. “Are they still confined? I can’t watch the screen while I’m doing this.”
“Colonel Clippersmith is taking them to the uniforms room so that they can put on their Segnal outfits.”
Veli sat back for a moment. “That’s odd.”
“Captain Harr had asked if his crew could be allowed to die wearing their home colors, sir.”
“Oh, well, that’s different,” said Veli as he leaned back forward and resumed his work. “I can see why they’d ask for that. Nothing wrong with a bit of pride at the executioners blade, I suppose.”
“As you say, sir.”
“This Colonel Clippersmith you’ve concocted appears to be an honorable fellow.”
“I do my best, sir.”
“Of course, seeing them all change will also give the colonel a chance to see their belly buttons, which could make the colonel suddenly believe that what Harr was saying before about the Overseers.”
“He won’t see them, sir,” the computer said. “He did not enter the room with them.”
“What?” Veli said, his head snapping up.
“The colonel allowed them their privacy as they changed.”
“Why the hell would he ...” Veli paused. “Actually, why would you program him to allow that, you worthless hunk of steel!”
“93 ...”
“What did I tell you about counting my insults?”
“Right. Sorry, sir.”
Veli clicked over to the video and noticed that it was black. He then went for the audio. Dead.
“Where’s the audio and video for that room?”
“There is none, sir,” the computer replied smoothly. “We don’t look in on people when they’re changing, remember?”
“In normal fantasies, that’s true,” Veli agreed, remembering that he had held a number of one-on-one meetings with Planet Head Parfait over cell phone regarding that issue, “but this is not a normal fantasy.”
“Would you like me to add surveillance to that room, sir?”
“Immediately!”
“Done, sir,” the computer said as the screen opened to reveal the entire crew were back in their normal clothes already.
“Why is he talking into his wristband?” Veli said, pointing at Harr.
“I could tell you that, sir,” the computer replied slowly, “but it would be a spoiler.”
“Put the sound on, you digital dingdong!”
“Okay, Geezer,” Harr said in a commanding voice, “now!”
The crew faded from view.
Veli jumped up and walked up to the screen as if the Platoon F crew were somehow magically hidden in the pixels. He knew that was stupid, but his brain wasn’t its normal self since he’d overdosed on the Popped Beef.
“Where’d they go?” he asked dully.
“Back to their ship.”
“Clever little bastard.”
“Nine.”
“I was talking about Captain Harr, not you!”
“Eight.”
Veli growled. Once this was all said and done, the computer was going to get a complete overhaul. Veli would make the damn thing submissively-minded, just like he did with everyone he worked with. It made life go more smoothly for him, and for those who wished to remain among the living.
“Inform Clippersmith of the situation and give them the coordinates for The Reluctant.”
“Even though ...”
“Yes, even though they’re cloaked,” Veli said angrily. “We’ll deal with that …” The mixture of his anger, frustration, and poor eating habits caused his stomach to lurch yet again. “Uh oh,” he said as he ran back towards the restroom.
THE OLD SWITCHAROO
The moment that Harr hit the bridge of The Reluctant, he took off for engineering, dropping down the ladder as if it were a slide.
Geezer was already on video with Inkblot, and it appeared that The Ship was in the room with her as well. Actually, standing just off to her right was Liverbing, though he was just barely visible at this level of zoom.
“Okay, what’s the plan?” asked Harr.
“It’s a risk, sir,” Inblot said, “but we need to do the transport.”
Harr nodded. “And if Veli sees it? Then what?”
“Then he’ll be more direct in his efforts to destroy us,” Frexle said soberly.
“Great,” Harr replied. “So either way, we’re goners.”
“Unless Inkblot’s plan succeeds, Lead Wolf.”
“Frex is right, Hotdog,” Geezer said while wiping his hands with his workman’s rag. “Besides, it’s not like we really have a lot of choices here.”
“Yeah, I know. I just ...”
Harr didn’t want to overthink it. There just wasn’t time for that. Veli obviously wanted them dead. That much was clear. So taking a risk like this wasn’t going to put them in a situation worse than they were already in. If it worked, it could prove to better their chances.
“Let’s just do it,” Harr said.
“Initiating sequence on my mark,” Inkblot started. “100 … 99 … 98 …”
“Inkblot,” Harr said, “can we just start at three please?”
“But that’s no fun.”
“Don’t bother arguing with him,” Geezer stated. “He never lets me have any fun either.”
“Oh, fine. 3 … 2 … 1 …”
There wasn’t much of a difference during the swap, other than the outside visual now showed Fantasy Planet and not the massive Raffian Armada. That alone was worth the risk of the transport out of the fantasy. Harr could only hope that the transport of the replica into the fantasy was just as successful.
“I’m heading down, Inkblot,” announced Harr as he nodded at Geezer.
“I’m coming with you,” stated Frexle.
“Shouldn’t you ask your boss first?” Geezer said to his new employee.
“Sorry, Chief. I just think I can help them is all. I do know Veli better than …”
“I’m just messing with you, Frex. You can go.”
The world faded out for a moment only to fade back in to display the control center on Fantasy Planet. It felt as if Harr had just left the place a few days earlier. That was probably because he had, in fact, left the place a few days earlier.
“I think we’re golden,” Inkblot said excitedly.
“Did Veli see it?” asked Harr.
“If so,” she replied, “he’s not tipping his hand.”
“We’d know,” Frexle stated while looking at Inkblot’s screen. “I would wager that he didn’t see it. The Lord Overseer is not one to waste time once a threat is revealed.”
Harr nodded. “So now what?”
“Now we break into his fantasy,” said Inkblot.
“So you were serious about that?”
“Of
course, Captain Harr.”
“But I thought that fantasies were protected, no?” Harr asked as Parfait walked into the room.
“Oooh, Captain Harr,” Parfait said happily. “Good to have you back. You’re looking fit. You know, just last night I was reviewing the tapes of you and your crew wearing those orange tights and I have to say …”
“Sir,” Harr interrupted, “now’s not the time.”
“Is it ever?”
“No,” Harr said seriously before turning back to Inkblot. “Again, I thought fantasies were protected from intruders?”
“Except for when we set up a fantasy that allows us to break into other fantasies, if you recall,” Inkblot replied.
“It’s my number one fantasy,” Parfait noted.
“You mean you spy on other people’s fantasies?” Harr asked, surprised that even Parfait would do something like that.
“Of course I do! Why else would I have taken this job?”
“Right.” Harr shook his head and worked to pretend that Parfait wasn’t there. “What do we do, then, Inkblot?”
“You just have to pay for the fantasy so that we can set it up,” she answered with a shrug.
“Pay for it?” He stopped himself and held up his hands to silence everyone. “Fine. How much is it?”
“Two million credits. And we take all major forms of payment, including Veezah, Slavecard, and Intergalactic Express.”
“I don’t have that kind of cash,” Harr said.
“Employees get one free fantasy every year, you know,” Parfait pointed out.
“And how does that help me exactly?”
Parfait raced over to one of the desks and pulled out a piece of paper. He then snagged a pen and ran back, handing them both over to Harr.
Harr looked down and saw that he’d been given an employment application.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“We are currently hiring for the positions of personal chef,” Parfait said, counting on his fingers, “massage therapist, and male stripper.”
“I can’t cook,” replied Harr, “I have no idea how to give a massage, and ... no.”
Parfait pouted slightly.
Frexle cleared his throat. “You do realize that once Veli is done with us, he’s going to take all of you out and replace you too, right?”
“He wouldn’t dare,” Parfait said in a very uppity tone of voice. “I have a contract.”
“So did about one hundred Overseers who have served on the council for the last twenty years. Veli is not a patient ruler.”
“Oh.”
“I hate to interrupt this fascinating discourse,” came the audio-enhanced voice of Liverbing, “but we are receiving a distress call from our pilot, Plock.”
“Where is he?”
“In the guts of this planet. He was delivering Goozer to the core to try and shut this blasted place down. Apparently they were attacked by bugs and Goozer got out. Plock and his crew did not.”
“Can’t you transport him out?”
“No,” Liverbing replied while kicking the edge of the keyboard. “It seems that Goozer had only affixed that technology to himself before the mission. Something about not having enough time or what have you.”
“Yeah, I get that one a lot from my engineer.”
“It’s too bad,” Parfait said as he took a seat. “They seemed like a nice bunch.”
“We can’t just leave them in there,” Liverbing announced.
“No,” Harr said, giving Parfait a dirty look. “Of course we can’t.”
Inkblot raised her hand. “May I make a suggestion?”
“Of course,” Liverbing answered.
“The last time our exterminator was here, she gave us a case of bug bombs.”
“Bug bombs?”
“Basically, it’s like a bunch of tiny intelligent spheres that seek out bugs and kills them dead.”
“That’s a little redundant,” said Liverbing.
“Sorry,” Inkblot replied. “That’s what it says on the side of the box.”
“How does it kill them?” asked Harr.
“It releases a fog of toxins specifically engineered to kill insects,” answered Inkblot while reading the side of the box.
“Goozer,” said Liverbing, “are you listening?”
“Yep, Prime.”
“Can the ships handle bug spray?”
“As long as they’re sealed,” Goozer answered.
“Good,” Liverbing said and then pointed at Inkblot. “Do that.”
Even for someone the size of Harr’s thumb, Liverbing had a way of making people do what he expected them to do. Some people were just born to be leaders.
VELI UNVEILED
Inkblot had finished setting up a fantasy using a promo code when Plock and his crew all arrived on the desks. The smell was not pleasant.
“How do ya think we feel?” Plock was saying as he climbed out of his craft and walked up the ramp of The Ship. “The damn things were all over us and now my ship smells like a ginormous can of Buggonerz!”
The little fellow was yelling it so loudly that he hadn’t needed a personal PA system for Harr to hear it.
“So what’s the fantasy exactly?” Harr asked.
“To be able to see the owner of Fantasy Planet in his lair,” Inkblot replied coyly.
“Smart.”
She pressed the start button and the main screen flicked over to a room that revealed an oddly-shaped, empty chair that looked pretty large. It implied that Lord Overseer Veli was somewhat portly, and with that massive bucket of something called “Popped Beef” sitting beside the chair, Harr didn’t even want to think what the hole in the back of the seat was used for.
There was a stand up lamp next to the chair along with a table that was holding a bottle that Harr assumed was a drink, and another bottle of pinkish liquid that was half-empty.
From the back of the room, a bird-like creature stepped out. It had a long, pointy snout with rows of razor sharp teeth, two fierce eyes, and a couple of three-fingered hands that housed long, ripping claws. To say that the thing looked scary was an understatement. Evil was more apropos, and with the added red feathers that gave it a mohawk look, downright evil was an even better description.
“What the hell is that?” said Frexle.
“It looks like a dinosaur,” Harr said.
“I just pulled it up on our historical records, Honcho,” Geezer said through the comm.
“You’re watching?”
“Yeah, why not? Nothing better to do. Anyway, that thing looks like something called a deinonychus.”
“Where do those things come from, Geezer?” Harr asked.
“They’re on many planets, Prime. I’m sure Grog and Vlak have seen them before.”
“Yep.”
“Yup.”
“Plus they were on that planet called Earth that we went to a few years back,” Geezer concluded.
“Ah, I thought the type of creature was familiar. Never seen that exact one, though.”
“Well, whatever the hell that thing is,” Frexle said, pointing at the screen, “why are we seeing it?”
“I don’t know. Is there a glitch in the system or something, Inkblot?”
Inkblot was busily typing away at her terminal. “I must have hooked up to the wrong area. Give me a second.”
“Never should have eaten all of that Popped Beef,” the creature said in an all too familiar voice. “It always messes up my stomach, but do I ever remember that? Nooo, of course not.”
Frexle turned white and backed away, bumping into a wall column before finally putting his hands on a nearby table to steady himself.
“Frexle? Are you okay?”
Frexle’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“It’s him,” he said, visibly shaken.
“It’s who?” asked Harr.
“Lord Overseer Veli,” he replied.
“Well, what do you know?” said Harr while rubbing his chin.
<
br /> Veli picked up the bottle of pink liquid and gulped it down. His teeth were shining menacingly in the light.
“Ah, yes,” he said, looking as serene as a dinosaur could, “that will help to soothe my stomach.”
“So a dinosaur is head of the Overseers,” Harr said thoughtfully.
“And Fantasy Planet,” added Parfait.
“Exactly,” Frexle said with a nod.
“Okay, okay,” Veli said as he flopped back into the chair. “That’s a little better. Now, where was I? Oh, right, that crappy Reluctant ship was fuzzing out my ability to see in on them.” He was looking at the screen as if staring at all of them. “Ah, good, it’s all cleared up now. I can see them just fine, and it’s about time, too. Odd that they’re just sitting there, though.”
“Inkblot?” said Harr as the hair on the back of his neck stood up.
“He’s not seeing us,” Inkblot said. “He’s seeing the replica people on the ship that I created, but … oh, oops. I forgot to set their animation sequence.” She typed a few lines. “Okay, there.”
“Ah,” said Veli, seemingly satisfied, “there we go. They’re moving again. Sure are quiet.” He shrugged. “Definitely a strange bunch. Now, Computer, have you given the Raffian Fleet the details on the location of The Reluctant?”
“I have, sir.”
“Good, are you ready to feed them the intel on how to see through stealth technology?”
“It would be a dream come true, sir,” the computer replied with zero enthusiasm.
Veli threw the remote at the screen.
“Just do it!”
SENTIMENTAL
Veli knew that things would play out where The Reluctant and her crew would end up blown to smithereens. It was part of his plan, after all. But now that his stomach was on the mend, he couldn’t help but wonder how the assassination attempt on the Raffian King was going.
The computer had said that the king lived, but Veli had a feeling that damn machine was just being petty.
He cracked open a fresh soda and sat back.
“Computer, put the assassination attempt on. I want to watch it.”
Platoon F: Quadology: Missions 6, 7, 8, and 9 (Platoon F eBook Bundle 2) Page 52