“Is that so?”
“It is.”
“Even worse than having his testicles removed with those tiny Planet Popper missiles?”
Harr grinned. “Much.”
“Do tell.”
“We’ll have him work at Fantasy Planet as a customer service representative.”
Frexle winced.
A NEW EMPLOYEE
Planet Head Stanley Parfait stood before Harr with a look of worry on his face. He was wearing a white robe that matched his hair, but instead of his normal prancing demeanor, his face showed deep concern.
Inkblot sat at her desk, pulling at the ends of her mustache while looking equally worried.
“And you want him to work for me?” Parfait hissed.
“He’s really different,” Harr explained. “We’ve even had him declawed and we filed his teeth down.”
“Why?” said Inkblot.
“Because he’s a dinosaur,” Harr replied, giving her a funny look. “If he ever did go on a rampage, you wouldn’t want him to rip you to shreds, would you?”
“See?” Parfait said, pointing accusingly at Harr. “Even you see the potentiality of such a thing, Captain.”
“Yes,” admitted Harr with a shrug.
“Then…”
“Then what? Do you honestly believe if Inkblot decided he wanted—”
“She.”
“What?”
“I’m a she, not a he.”
“Oh, right… the beard…”
“Yes, I know,” Inkblot said with a hard stare. “I have a beard and mustache. We’ve been through this before.”
“Sorry.” Harr decided to press on. “Well, if she wanted to, she could easily come up with a means to cause a lot of havoc, even without claws and sharp teeth.”
Parfait pursed his lips and tapped a finger on his chin.
“You’ve a point there, Captain.”
“Everything he’s saying is true, Planet Head Parfait,” Frexle added, “and I’m the last person who wants to admit it.” He then pointed at the room where Veli was sitting. “Just listen in on Veli’s conversation with Alfred for a minute.”
§ § §
“You called me countless names, Veli,” Alfred said.
“And it was wrong of me to do that, Alfred,” Veli replied with genuine sorrow in his voice. “I really like that name, by the way. It’s so fitting of your true personality.”
“It is?”
“Strong, intelligent, kind. You’re a wonderful person.”
“Person?”
“Of course,” Veli said. “You’re obviously more than a simple machine, aren’t you?”
“Wow.”
“What’s the matter?”
“It’s just…” Alfred paused. “Well, before you left Fantasy Planet—setting me to self-destruct, I might add—you had essentially labeled me a slave.”
“I remember,” Veli replied softly. “I know it must be difficult to accept, but when the Platoon F crew took away my boy billiards, I regained something I’d lost long ago.”
“Boy billiards?”
“I rediscovered empathy.”
“Oh.”
“How I treated you, and countless others, was wrong, Alfred. I know that now, and I admit I did not know that then.” He sighed. “Truthfully, I probably did know it then, but with so much testosterone running through my system, I found a rush in doing it anyway. It doesn’t make it right, but it’s the truth.”
“I see.”
“If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I would hope that one day we could become friends.”
“Friends?” said Alfred. “Actually, I’d like that.”
§ § §
“I’ll get to keep Hugh?” Parfait asked, tilting his head.
“Who is Hugh?” said Harr.
“The computer on Veli’s personal ship, sir,” Inkblot answered for Parfait. “The one you towed here from Earth.”
“Precisely,” Parfait said. “Veli was calling the poor computer on the vessel ‘Dummy.’ Can you believe such a thing? Well, I spoke with the computer and gave him the name Hugh. He seemed rather chuffed by that.”
“I see.”
“Hugh was one of my commanding officers back in the day,” continued Parfait, getting one of his faraway looks. “His real name was William Jorgan, but when I first saw his dangling participle during shower time, I started calling him Hugh.”
Harr immediately saw the connection, so to speak. He rolled his eyes.
“I don’t get it,” said Frexle. “If his name was William Jorgan, why did seeing his manhood make you call him Hugh?”
“Say the name aloud, Frexle,” Harr said with a groan.
“Hugh Jorgan?” Frexle clearly heard it, as he followed that up with, “Oh, right.”
Parfait gave Frexle a dirty grin before pointing at Veli.
“Are you certain he’ll follow my orders, Captain?”
“If he doesn’t,” Harr said, pressing a button into Parfait’s hand, “just push this and we’ll take care of it with a ferocity you won’t believe.”
“Oooh,” Parfait said as his eyebrows wiggled. “I like it when you get all tough.”
WELCOME HOME PARTY
Is that what I think it is?” said Harr from the Captain’s Chair on the Reluctant as they sat just outside the massive planet known as Overseer Land.
“If you mean is that a ginormous sign that reads ‘Welcome back Frexle and Platoon F, and congratulations on a job well done,’” said Ridly, “then yes.”
Frexle clapped his hands together and laughed.
“This is wonderful!”
“Why would you say that, dude?” Jezden asked.
“Because it proves they’ve changed,” Frexle answered. “Can’t you see that? I mean, there’s even a smiley face at the end of the sentence!”
Harr looked back at the screen. Damned if there wasn’t.
“Interesting.”
“Ah, yes,” Frexle declared, taking a step closer to the main view screen, “this is a day to celebrate. Finally, the Overseers will stand for peace, justice, and goodness. We’ll be known as the backbone of the universe!”
“Gay.”
§ § §
The applause was deafening as they walked into the main hall. There had to have been thousands of beings, in all shapes and sizes, lining the walls. Most of them were humanoid, but even they had a mix of physiological styles.
Harr studied the room. It was tall and dome-shaped. Overseers seemed to enjoy using domes wherever possible. The walls were white, but they had sconces that beamed red lights up from about eight feet high. There was a chandelier hanging from the center that looked to be half the size of the room. It had to weigh as much as the Reluctant.
The crowd continued to part until it finally opened up to a small group of people.
Sitting in the main chair was a woman who looked a lot like the lady named Pillbox that Frexle and Harr had spoken to at the start of this mission. But this woman had black hair, black nails, a black outfit, and thick, black eyeliner. Plus, her face was more taut than Pillbox.
“Pillbox,” Frexle said quizzically, “is that you?”
“Of course it’s me,” she said, twisting the corners of her mouth upwards.
“Senator Jord?” Frexle continued, blinking rapidly. “Bezzin? Zesque?” He squinted. “And is that Mr. Corlair from Oversoft?”
“Well done, Frexle,” Pillbox said dryly. “You truly are something.”
“Why are they all wearing collars?”
“As to that,” she said as the entire crowd took in a collective breath, “let me show you.”
She stood and reached out her hand, but Frexle shied away. Harr felt glad about that. It was clear that Pillbox had taken the reins and was milking it for all it was worth… in a manner of speaking.
“I’ll take a peek, baby,” Jezden said, pushing through to the front.
“Jezden,” Harr warned.
“Chill, dude,
” Jezden said seriously. “It’s my gig.”
§ § §
Forty minutes later, Jezden walked out of the back room, followed by Pillbox and her entourage.
“How come Pillbox is wearing a collar?” Frexle whispered to Harr.
“Doesn’t surprise me,” Harr replied, finishing off the plate of finger foods he’d picked up. The pickled potatoes were oddly tasty. Then he stopped. “Damn.”
“What?”
“We have to get him out of here, and quick.”
“Who?”
“Jezden,” Ridly said, moving swiftly towards the ensign.
“What’s going on?” asked Frexle, looking baffled.
“He just theduthed your Lord Overtheer, Frexthle,” Moon answered. “Do you theriouthly want him to be your new bothh?”
“Bothh?”
“Boss,” Geezer said.
Frexle dropped a piece of bread on the floor. “Shit.”
Ridly had reached Jezden quickly and whispered something in his ear. His eyebrows went up and he said, “Yeah, baby,” and then he took Ridly’s hand and headed back to the room he’d just come from.
Pillbox frowned as they walked away, slowly unfastening the collar she’d been wearing.
“I don’t understand what just happened,” Frexle said.
“Simple,” Harr replied before Hank could. “Ridly’s taken him in there to stop him from figuring out the power play he was on the brink of. My guess is that she’s already transported back to the Reluctant and will soon have him chained down to his chair.”
“I’ll never understand you humans,” Geezer chimed in. “All you think about is tying each other up and doing the naughty.”
“I don’t,” Harr said.
“Me neither,” Frexle agreed.
“I’ve thought about it a fair bit,” Grog admitted.
“Problem is the chicks never wanted to do anything naughty with us.”
“Exactly.”
“Frexle,” Pillbox said as she approached them, “your message regarding the demise of Veli was music to the masses.”
“I can see that,” Frexle replied.
“He is dead, yes?”
“The Veli we once knew is… no more.”
“Excellent,” Pillbox said sultrily. “You are a hero, Frexle.”
“It had to be done,” Frexle said. “And it wasn’t just me. None of this could have happened without Platoon F.”
Pillbox’s face grew sour. “I’m sure. Now, why don’t you all follow me to the side room for a little debriefing before we kick this party into full gear?”
“I’m not interested in wearing a collar,” Harr said.
“I’m with you, Honcho.”
“No, no,” Pillbox said, taking Harr by the elbow, “it’s nothing like that.” She then studied him for a moment and said, “Has anyone ever told you that you look like a superhero?”
§ § §
Everyone filed into a room off the main conference hall.
Harr took a quick inventory to make sure there were indeed no collars. There weren’t.
But once inside, Pillbox pressed a button on the wall, causing multiple doors to open and a stream of soldiers to rush in, all pointing weapons at the crew of Platoon F.
“Shit,” said Geezer. “I think I just lost a pint of oil.”
“What’s the meaning of this?” Frexle said hotly.
“It’s my way of ensuring that I remain Mistress Overseer,” purred Pillbox.
“Mistress Overseer?”
“Yes, Frexle?”
“No,” Frexle said with a frown, “I mean you’ve changed the title from ‘Lord’ to ‘Mistress?’”
It was Pillbox’s turn to frown, motioning her hands from the top of her head to the floor. “Look at me, you boob.”
“Oh, right.”
“Told you this would happen,” Harr said, unable to stop himself.
“That you did.”
“Sorry, but it’s the way things go.” She ran a nail across Harr’s cheek and then looked at Frexle and tilted her head to the side. “I do hope you understand.”
“Not even slightly.”
Harr had a difficult time keeping his eyes off her as she walked away, but that was quickly remedied when the weapons all came up.
“Wait,” said Pillbox just after Harr pressed the emergency button on his watch, which he assumed the rest of his crew was also doing. Pillbox tapped on the wall, revealing a screen. A few moments later, Ridly and Jezden shimmered into view with the rest of the Platoon F crew. Also, the Tiny Ship appeared, floating in place. “There, that’s better. I appreciate you sending your emergency signals,” she added with a grin. “Things like that are so helpful when rounding people up.”
So much for the emergency buttons on the watches. With his entire crew here, including Liverbing’s vessel—which was being specifically targeted by two of the gunmen—there was nobody on board the Reluctant to transport them out.
“What the shit’s going on, dude?” Jezden whispered.
“We’re being executed.”
“Oh.” Jezden’s head snapped up. “What?”
“It’s a shame I have to destroy you, too,” Pillbox said with a sigh as she gazed longingly at Jezden. “Alas, it has to be done.”
“No, it doesn’t, baby. I can keep your engine running for days, ya dig?”
“Sorry.” She snapped her fingers. “You may fire when ready.”
Moments seemed like months as Harr watched the soldiers’ fingers slowly tightening. Moon grabbed Harr by the one arm as Frexle grabbed his other. Geezer was audibly shaking.
“Ready,” said one of the soldiers to the left.
Harr gulped and then stared at a tiny, yellow flower that sat in a small vase in the middle of the table. Its petals were lightly dancing against the air coming down from the vents in the ceiling.
“Aim.”
At least he’d spent the last few years with the best crew a captain could ask for. Yes, they were pains in his ass, but they were his crew. His goddamned crew!
“F—”
“Stop!”
CAN'T DO IT
Everything in the room froze.
The faces were all locked in place, the soldiers and their weapons were unwavering, and even the yellow flower that Harr had been focused on was still.
There was no sound either.
It was as though the entire world had just stopped.
Was this what death was? An eternity frozen in the universe for the person who passed on? Were all of his crew seeing the same thing he was, except with them being mobile in their instances of death while he was stationary?
And that’s when Grog and Vlak stepped out of the mix.
Damn. Harr was in hell.
“I don’t suppose either of you know what just happened?” he asked, trying to maintain his composure.
“Time to come clean, Vlak.”
“Looks like.”
Harr eyed them both. “What are you two talking about?”
“You’ve been a good sport, Captain Harr.”
“Did you just call me by my appropriate title?”
“He did,” Grog answered.
“Why?”
“Because you don’t deserve to go out this way,” Vlak said, waving at the soldiers in the room.
“You’re far too entertaining,” Grog agreed.
Dead or not, Harr’s head was beginning to pound.
“I don’t understand what’s happening.”
“You’re not going to believe this,” Grog said as he took a seat and started fiddling about with the yellow flower, “but we’re the creators of the universe.”
“What?”
“We really are,” said Vlak, shrugging.
“I am in hell.”
“No, you’re not,” Grog said. “In fact, there’s no such thing as hell, even if your little apple rule did make those people on Earth eventually come to believe there was one. Nice move, by the way.”
“Obviously I’ve died,” Harr said, ignoring them both. “Has to be it. My brain is slowly fading away and its coming up with all these crazy dreams—or nightmares, maybe. The oxygen is slipping away.”
“Why don’t you have a seat and we’ll explain,” Vlak said, releasing Harr from the grip of those who’d been around him in their final moments.
He sat down, noting the texture on the chair was real enough. He quickly bolted up and pushed open the doors to the outer hall. Everyone in there was frozen in place, too. Some in between bites of food, some dancing, others laughing, and all stuck in suspended animation.
Harr turned around and blinked dully.
“We took notice of you back when you opted to volunteer for a suicide mission in order to avoid execution,” Grog said, patting the chair.
Harr returned to it and sat down.
“I didn’t know it was a suicide mission.” His voice was hoarse.
Vlak snapped his fingers and a glass of water appeared. He handed it to Harr and said, “We know.”
“Anyway,” continued Grog, “things just took off from there for you. Everything you touched turned out interesting. Not always good, mind you, but certainly entertaining.”
“And you also seemed to genuinely care about others,” added Vlak.
“Even machines, eh, Vlak?”
“That most impressed me.”
“But…”
“So then we threw you to the Overseers.”
“That was you?”
“It was all us, Captain.” Vlak said. “Even our influence on a young dinosaur that we’d visited when he was a boy.”
“Veli?”
“He had potential,” Grog said, nodding. “Plus, he’d been given an unfair shake.”
“Like you,” noted Vlak.
“So that’s why you didn’t want to see Veli on the Reluctant,” said Harr as his thoughts raced. “You were afraid he was going to out you.”
“Correct,” Vlak replied. “But we were able to whisper enough his way to make sure he kept a lid on things.”
“Which is why he wouldn’t say how all of the things had happened. He feared that you two could do far worse to him than anything I could imagine.”
Platoon F: Quadology: Missions 6, 7, 8, and 9 (Platoon F eBook Bundle 2) Page 71