What Kind of Fool?: A Science Fiction Comedy (These Foolish Things Book 2)

by J Battle

  Here we go; I’m about to give the instruction and then we’ll be off.

  Bother! I have to admit I’m a bit nervous. That’s understandable, isn’t it? They might have guns, up there. Or would guns be allowed on a space station? Maybe they’ll just have big sticks.

  If Neville was here, he’d be reassuring me that I have nothing to fear but fear itself. Or he’d tell me a joke, or a poem or something. I’m getting nothing from Dumb. No jokes, no encouragement - nothing.

  OK. I can’t put it off any longer; here we go…

  You’re not supposed to be able to tell, but I think Neville does a smoother squirt than Dumb. I’m just saying.

  I’ve arrived in a sort of corridor, or tunnel or something. It looks level close up, but I can see that it curves up in the distance, both in front and behind me. So I’m in the passageway that runs around the outer rim of the toroid shaped prison. And this is where the cells are, I think.

  There’s a door here. I open it; it’s not locked. Now this is nice; more a suite than a cell, I’d say. There’s a couch and an easy chair, facing what looks like a top of the range entertainment system. Off the main lounge area there are two doors. I take a peak; one leads on to a very comfortable bedroom, and the other a sumptuous bathroom.

  I shut the bathroom door behind me, to give me a little privacy to go about my business; well it has been stressful and I do have something of a delicate tummy at the moment. I’m just resting my bare bottom on the toilet and, oh no - there’s someone outside.

  What do I do? I’m in that I’ve-started-so-I’ll-finish sort of situation, so whoever is out there will have to wait.

  ‘Excuse me, is there someone in there?’ The voice is ever so polite, and easy to ignore.

  There, I’ve finished and I’ve washed my hands and run a comb through my hair. Now I’m ready for anything.

  ‘Dumb, squirt me to a position 100 metres along the corridor.’

  I’m back in the corridor, exactly as planned; feeling pretty good about how things are going. How hard can this be?

  I’m just coming to a widening of the tunnel where it opens out into a large room. There are a dozen or so inmates, or guests as they call them here, dotted about. Some are sitting in comfy looking chairs; others are standing next to the convenient little snack bar.

  They are all women, which is good, as I’ve come for a woman. But it makes me stand out, and nervous. I’ve seen my fair share of women in prison films and I know the fate of any hapless male who should happen to fall into their grasp; and they are staring at me, and I’m feeling a touch hapless.

  ‘Excuse me…Ladies.’ What is the collective term for a group of female convicts? Convixens? ’I’m looking for my sister, Julie Chandler. Do you know where I might find her?’

  A rough looking individual strolls over to be. She has breasts, so she can’t be all bad.

  ‘What d’you want her for, lover?’

  Altogether too familiar for my liking.

  ‘I…’ Well I can hardly say I’m going to break her out; they’ll all want to come. ‘I have news from home.’ Well, you come up with something better.

  ‘You don’t need her, lover, when you’ve got us.’ She sort of breathes the words out at me like a, I don’t know, a pant.

  ‘Does anyone know where I might find my sister?’ I say, taking a small step backwards; out of range, so to speak.

  ‘She ain’t here mate.’ A skinny, equally rough looking woman calls from the snack bar. ‘She’s gone.’

  I give the first woman a wide berth and walk closer to the second.

  ‘Where has she gone?’ I asked. If she’s been given a reprieve and is back on Earth, I’m going to give someone a piece of my mind, and I’ll tell you that for nothing.

  ‘She caused a bit of a, you know, a ruckus, you might say. She upset the guards, and a few others, and she’s been sent away.’

  ‘Where to? And when was this?’

  ‘She’s gone to Gotcha! About an hour since.’

  ‘Gotcha! So, she’s not here?’ I know how dumb I sound, but I’m stunned. I don’t want to go to Gotcha! I didn’t want to come here, but at least it’s low security. If I got caught breaking Julie out of this place, they’d probably just tut and say who’s a naughty boy, then?

  Gotcha would be altogether more severe.

  Chapter 28 Then LOrd

  'So. We need your help to thwart whatever dastardly plan these demons have concocted.'

  'This is the 21st century, you know? People don't use words like 'thwart' or 'dastardly',' replied Sam, trying to extricate himself from the long, thin, importuning arm.

  'Nevertheless you understand me. Don't you Sam?'

  Sam scowled at Draggle. 'Who do you work for anyway?'

  'Can you not guess?'

  'What do you mean?'

  'Well, the blueprints describe a building built to specific requirements to house a particular and most important AI.'

  Sam would have been out of his seat at sound of AI, but the long thin arm no longer merely draped; it now gripped.

  'The Law and Order AI to be specific. We call it LOrd for short. And LOrd wants your help.'

  'No way, mate, am I going to work for an AI. I've spent half my life trying to avoid them. How did you find me anyway?'

  Draggle smiled and chuckled. 'Took us a while, what with your tin foil hat, face paint and ice packs making it difficult, but then you took them off.'

  'So I was right? They were after me?'

  'You're right now, Sam. So you might just as well take the money and do what you're told.'

  'And if I don't?'

  'Well, Sam, I don't have to tell you what would happen to you if you got on the wrong side of LOrd.'

  Sam had flash images of the jungle worlds they could send him to, and the desert worlds, and the worlds in between that he just wouldn't like.

  'What exactly does LOrd want from me?' He sighed. He was fairly sure that Phil would have held out longer but, without his tin hat and other safeguards, there were few options open to him.

  'We believe an attack on this building is imminent and we need you to stop it.'

  'Why me?' Sam noticed how forlorn his voice sounded.

  'We know that Philip Chandler had the blueprint three days ago, and since then he has disappeared.'

  'But Phil isn't a criminal; he wouldn't attack the AI. I think he actually likes them. And he's not violent; even his sister bullies him.'

  'Do you have an alternative explanation that explains his possession of the blueprint and subsequent disappearance?'

  Sam squirmed out from the annoying arm and stood up.

  'I'm going to help you Draggle, and your blasted AI. Not for the money; not just for the money. I'll help you to prove that you are wrong, and that Phil is innocent, that he is the last person in the world to break the law.'

  (It should be noted that, as Sam spoke these very words, Phil was. in fact, breaking any number of laws as he squirted onto the orbital prison platform, Only If You Don't Mind. I'm only saying. N.F.)

  Draggle joined him on his feet.

  'So, to be clear, you still want the money.'

  'Yeah, I'll take your money.'

  'In that case, you'll need to wear this.'

  Before Sam had a chance to react, Draggle had fastened a silver bracelet around his left wrist.

  'What the…!' Sam pulled at the bracelet, but it refused to come loose.

  'Just a security requirement; you might actually like it.'

  'Like what?' Sam could feel a flush coming on; he really needed a good sit down in a quiet room with a cold pint of lager.

  'Hello, Samuel.' Sam spun around, but the voice was in his head. 'I should introduce myself. I am an adjunct of the Law and Order AI, and we will be together for the duration of this mission.'

  'What? What the…? You're in my head! Get out of my head!' Sam was half way to the door before Draggle pulled him to the ground.

  'Calm yourself, Samuel. I mean you
no harm. Our interaction will be situation specific. When the situation is resolved, we will separate and go our own ways. How does that sound to you?'

  Sam jerked his body, trying to dislodge Draggle, but he was a big guy, and heavy.

  Sam rested his cheek against the carpet and closed his eyes.

  'Alright, alright! Get off me, won't you? I'm not going anywhere.'

  He felt a big hand flat in the middle of his back as Draggle got to his knees. 'Just stay there for a minute son,' he said.

  'OK,' Sam rolled over onto his back. 'Tell me what I need to do to get this thing off my arm.'

  **********

  They stared at Teddy's watch in silence; there was hardly the need for words.

  After Argu's latest disastrous performance, watched by a significant proportion of the Galaxy's population above level six, the dials were all well into the red.

  'You have to stop,' said Teddy at last.

  Millie nodded, her eyes not leaving the watch.

  Phil's sister was in prison, his business had been sold, his building was demolished, and he would soon find himself in prison when his break-in to Only If You Don't Mind was discovered.

  How much more could she actually do to him?

  There was his mother of course; that would be the final nail in the coffin.

  'No,' said Teddy, as if he could read her thoughts.

  'You're right, Teddy, as always. It's just that, before I go, I'd like to make an attempt to do something that could push things a little towards the black.'

  As Teddy had no facial muscles, it was very hard to gauge his mood, but Millie thought that he was giving her a stern look.

  'Be careful, Millie. Very careful. I know all about your vaunted ambitions, but, if you go too far today, you will never become the Lord High Fulcrum.'

  'Don't worry Teddy. In the spirit of rapprochement, I'm just going to arrange a little family get together. Can't see any harm in that, can you?'

  Teddy immobile face didn't give much away, but she took his silence as agreement.

  Chapter 29 Then our sponsor’s voice

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  Sam was in the back room of The Hairy Follicle, nursing a cold beer and ignoring the nagging from his bracelet.

  He needed to think, and where else would be more suitable.

  LOrd thought that Phil was complicit in the theft of the blueprint and whatever attack was about to take place. Sam's first impulse was to say that LOrd was completely wrong; that it was not at all possible for Phil to be involved.

  But what if the AI was not completely wrong? What if it was just slightly wrong? What if Phil was not exactly involved, but somehow slightly connected?

  These were the thoughts percolating in Sam's head; going around in circles.

  He took a drink from his beer.

  'Should we be going now, Samuel?' asked his bracelet.

  'Not until I've worked out what to do.'

  Sam watched as Don't Mind Lily finished the drink she'd scrounged from Boring Brian. She was looking around for her next benefactor and her eyes were getting very close to his.

  'Right, we're going.' He necked his beer and stood up.

  'Good. Where are we going?'

  'Shush, wait 'til we're alone.'

  Sam was used to people staring at him; after all, he usually walked around with a tin foil hat, face paint and the optimum number of ice packs. Still, he didn't want anyone to overhear the plan that he was beginning to develop.

  Out on the street, he checked to see that no-one was close.

  'OK. Listen now and tell me what you think.'

  After years of running from the clutches of the AI's, Sam felt strangely calm to be in partnership with one. Perhaps he was finally growing up?

  'Sam didn't steal the blueprint, and he's not about to mount an attack on your HQ. He's not, but maybe someone he's been involved with in the past, is.'

  'Perhaps you should develop your thoughts more?'

  'No, listen, it makes sense. On his last big case(In Favourof Fools - try it; why don't you? N.F.) they tried to bug his computer. I thought I'd stopped them, but maybe they came back and loaded some virus or something?'

  'And they used his computer network to source data on the blueprint?'

  'Meaning Phil is innocent, and you don't need me anymore.'

  'It is a bit of a stretch, Samuel.'

  'No, listen. The more I think about it, the more certain I am. You must know who they are; you are the Law and Order AI.'

  'All but one of the individuals involved have left Earth and travelled to one of the Twenty.'

  'Then there's only one guy left. Who is he?'

  'Harold Dart is a person of interest, though no evidence has been obtained to sustain a conviction.'

  'There you go, then. Arrest him, get the blueprint, foil the attack, give me my money and get off my wrist.'

  'It's not quite as simple as that, Samuel.'

  'What do you mean?'

  'No trace of Dart's movements have been detected in the last two days.'

  'So, what, you don't know where he is?'

  'That is an accurate summation of our current situation.'

  'But you don't need me anymore, do you? I've done my bit; I've proved Phil innocent and identified the culprit. Sounds like a job well done to me.'

  'A job incomplete is not well done.'

  Sam sighed and tugged at his bracelet.

  'How did I know you were going to say that?'

  **********

  I don't like this; not one bit.

  I've just squirted from the light and airy Only If You Don't Mind and I'm now in a dimly lit, cramped and strangely damp corridor on Gotcha!

  All those films you've seen where stupid humans search for horrible alien monsters on space ships and space stations could have been shot here.

  There's water dripping on my head, for heaven's sake.

  And I can't stand up straight; I keep banging my head on the low ceiling and it doesn't look very clean.

  I begin to walk along, bent over and worried that, any minute now, someone's going to jump out and hit me with a big stick.

  I've just heard something, so I've stopped. Did I say I don't like this?

  There’s only silence.

  I hold my breath.

  Still silence.

  Is there someone around the next corner who’s also holding his breath? And does he have a big stick?

  Maybe it was just an echo of my own footsteps? If Neville was still here he’d probably analyse the acoustics and give me figures on the likelihood. I don’t get that kind of service from Dumbo.

  OK, I’ve started moving forward again. I should have checked out the schematics for this place before I left lovely old Manchester, but I didn’t expect to be here.

  There’s a wide door here to my right. It’s got a window but it seems murky on the other side and I can’t see anything.

  I’ll just try this handle; I don’t suppose it will…oh, there we are, it’s just swung open. It looks dark inside, but I can hear a whirring sound, and a steady hum.

  Steady hums aren’t dangerous, are they? Unless there’s a giant bee inside, but that would be a buzz, wouldn’t it? Unless the Gargantua Genus of bees hums.

  I know, stop going on about stuff and have a look inside. You first.

  No?

&n
bsp; Just me then.

  My eyes are adjusting to the low light levels; is that natural or are my heroic little nanos at work again?

  The room is long and tall, with rows of shelves running along its length. The shelves reach up close to the ceiling and I count twenty rows. Lined up on each shelf, head to toe so to speak, are coffin sized casks, speckled with green lights.

  So this is where they store prisoners who have taken the suspended animation option. They don’t broadcast these things, but the word on the street is that they rent these casks to the prisoners at what they call a nominal weekly rate, but after nine years and more than four hundred weeks, the resulting figure is far too high for a newly released prisoner to pay, given that he hasn’t worked for nine years, and has little prospect of future employment.

  The Law and Order AI agrees to waive the fee if the ex-convict will go on a one way trip to one of the more remote planets.

  I don’t know if it’s true, but it wouldn’t surprise me.

  Oh, no! There’s someone at the door!

  I’m in a corner, trying to make myself very small and dark; yes dark would be good. I hope whoever it is doesn’t have nanos to enhance their vision.

  ‘Hello, Philly babe.’

  Oh, no! It’s her! In the flesh! How did she find me? How does she always find me?

  ‘Shall I come in, or do you want to come out and play?’

  I weigh up the options; none of them seems to include leaving me in peace.

  I step out from the shadows, trying to appear as in control of events as possible.

  ‘What do you want, Millie?’ I know I have a stern frown on my face.

  ‘I want to help, Philly, that’s all.’ She reaches out and takes my hand.

  ‘Why should I believe you? You always just try to mess things up for me. Last time you tried to make me drown myself.’

  ‘And I’m very sorry for that. I know that I’ve gone too far this time and I’m here to make amends. I’ve been ordered to, by my boss. He’s not very pleased with me.’