Platoon F: Pentalogy

by John P. Logsdon

  Hank cracked his knuckles, which was a new tick that Harr had not noticed before.

  “If you survived being burned at the stake,” explained Hank. “then you were a witch because the demons were protecting you. However, if you died then that mean that the flames had burned the ‘hell’ out of you and your spirit was cleansed.”

  “Did the demons ever protect anyone?” asked Sandoo.

  “Of course not,” said Hank with a frown. “There are no demons. It was all done as a way for people to kill people that they didn’t like. It’s thick.”

  “Thick? Like dumb?”

  “That too, but I meant to say sick.”

  “Oh, right.”

  Captain Harr pushed off the wall and began to pace. He clearly had to put together a rescue party to help save Ensign Ridly, unless…

  “Parfait,” he said, snapping his fingers.

  “What about him, thir?”

  “He’s our Senior Dimplomat, right? He should be the one that goes in and does his diplomatic duty to free Ensign Ridly from these savages.”

  “Thorry, thir, but do you think that’s wise?”

  Not in the least, thought Harr with a grin, but it would prove the perfect diversion for the people while Harr, Sandoo, Middleton, and Curr broke Ensign Ridly out of the clink.

  PLAYING DRESS UP

  It wasn’t often that Stanley Parfait got to play dress up in an official capacity. In fact, he couldn’t remember a time that it had ever happened. There were the frilly shirts that he was allowed to wear at the military galas, but that was different.

  “And you’re certain this is what they dressed like?” asked Captain Harr as he looked over the Senior Diplomat.

  Parfait was looking in the mirror, admiring his new outfit. The long robe, with wide sleeves that hung like angel’s wings when he put his hands up, felt loose and free, but the white tights that hugged his lower half gave him that feeling of control. Since there was no way of knowing what the actual officials of Earth were wearing under their robes, Harr left that decision up to Parfait. On top of the robe was a blue, ribbon-like scarf that hung down on either side, sitting inches above a braided belt that was tied in an illustrious knot at his waist. But the best part was the long, cone-shaped hat that pointed toward the heavens. It really brought out Parfait’s eyes.

  “This is what we all saw, sir,” affirmed Sandoo, turning his datapad once again toward Captain Harr for perusal.

  “I don’t see them wearing any eye makeup in that image,” Harr noted while looking back and forth between the datapad and Parfait.

  “Probably because it was dark, Captain,” Parfait said. “It’s difficult to see these things unless you’re close up, usually in an intimate capac…erm, I mean, you need decent lighting to notice these things.”

  Harr shrugged. “If you say so, sir.”

  “I’ve been studying up on diplomacy,” Parfait said with a hop.

  “Right. Well, you know what you’re supposed to do?”

  “Aye, aye, Captain,” Parfait said boisterously, smiling broadly. “I’m going to go into town, speak to the leaders, and negotiate the safe return of Ensign Ridcully.”

  “Ridly, sir.”

  “Hmmm?”

  “It’s Ensign Ridly. Not Ridcully. We don’t even have a Ridcully on board, sir.”

  “Oh, well, then, I shall endeavor to keep that in mind.”

  “Thank you, sir, though I doubt that they know her name anyway.”

  “Right you are, Captain,” Parfait said, spinning about to check himself out from behind. “By the way, who is going to stand in as my entourage?”

  “Pardon me, sir?”

  “I can’t rightly walk into town wearing an outfit like this and playing the role of…what was it called?”

  “Inquithitor, thir,” offered Hank.

  “Right, I can’t play the role of Inquisitor if I don’t even have servants. That would look rather odd indeed, wouldn’t you say?”

  “You have a point,” said Harr.

  “Indeed, I do,” said Parfait, indicating the top of his hat.

  Harr pushed his hand through his hair and turned toward Sandoo. “It’ll have to be me and Ensign Jezden that act as subordinates, Commander. You’ll have to round up a team without me in order to break Ensign Ridly out in the event that we fail.”

  “I’ll start on that straightaway, sir. Lieutenant Moon, I’d like you on the team.”

  “Actually,” Harr said, “I’m going to have to decline that request in Moon’s stead. I’m sorry, Commander, but we need someone on this ship that can manage things in the event that all the officers are down. She’s the highest ranking person left besides Geezer, and he’s trapped in engineering.”

  “Valid point, sir. Sorry, Lieutenant.”

  “That’s okay, thir. I’m not all that fond of cold weather anyway.”

  Parfait spent the next hour working with Captain Harr and Ensign Jezden, putting together their outfits, which consisted of purple tights, black leather boots, frilly white shirts, and vests that had floral design patterns strewn from top to bottom.

  Harr had demanded that they also be allowed to wear pantaloons since their bulges, specifically Jezden’s, made it look as though they were trying to smuggle in large pieces of fruit.

  “There we have it,” said Parfait as he put the finishing touches on Jezden’s makeup. “You look pret…precisely as a servant would look.”

  Jezden stepped over to the mirror and gawked. “Sir? Are you seriously going to make me wear this getup? I’ll never live this down if the women see me, and I don’t even want to think about how the men would treat me if they catch a glimpse.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that a lot,” said Parfait dreamily.

  “We have a job to do, Ensign. Disturbing or not, we’ll just have to suck it up.”

  “Hmmm,” said Parfait. “I like the sound of that.”

  “Poor choice of words, sir.”

  “Always seems to be while in certain company, Ensign.”

  Senior Diplomat Parfait felt a rush of excitement. It had been years since he’d been on an actual mission. His life was one that had been relegated to paper pushing and boring meetings. Even when he was given the reigns to do something useful, it always happened without his physical presence. Delegation was the motto of senior officers, it seemed.

  But tonight was his show. Tonight, Stanley Parfait was going to be the best damn Inquisitor that the Earthlings had ever seen.

  INQUISITIVE MINDS

  All the checks were in place.

  Commander Sandoo was going to take a couple of crew members around the outer edges until they could find a secure way to get Ensign Ridly to safety. Captain Harr was to team up with Ensign Jezden and Senior Diplomat Parfait, pretending to be an inquisition entourage so that they they could draw attention away from Sandoo’s rescue attempt. Lieutenant Moon was going to man the helm in the event that the ship was spotted and attacked. Chief Engineer Geezer was working on getting the GONE Drive back up to snuff.

  Sandoo and his crew exited the ship and waited for the ramp to seal back up before they headed down toward the hill’s edge.

  Sandoo led them along to the break in the hill that contained a path that would take them to the center of town.

  “Remember that I don’t have the ability to handle digital communications, Commander,” said Captain Harr. “I’ll need you to verbally keep me informed.”

  “Through your ear piece, sir,” Sandoo affirmed.

  “Right. Okay, good luck everyone. Remember that Ensign Ridly and the rest of the crew are counting on all of us. Let’s get this right the first time. Oh,” Harr said, pointing at his necklace, “also make sure your Universal Translators are engaged.”

  The two teams broke up and Captain Harr took point walking down the path toward what looked to be a sentry station. Guards were standing at either side, but they were looking into the town, which made little sense to Harr. He glanced back at his comrade
s and signaled them to wait.

  “Good evening,” he said, hoping that the translator would do its job accurately.

  Both guards spun around in a flash, whipping forth their swords and pressing them neatly on the captain’s chest. Harr stood his ground, scanning over their garb while fighting to remain unphased by their action. His hope was that his calmness would confuse them.

  They wore outfits similar to Parfait’s, except that instead of a pointy hat, they were wearing helmets that were opened in the front only. Their chests were also covered with chainmail vests and they wore metal greaves that went nearly to the elbow.

  “Who are your?” said the guard to Harr’s left.

  “My name is not important, good soldier. I am but a servant.”

  “You look like a damn fool,” said the other guard. “What’s with the funny hair and that butt crack you have on your chin?”

  “I’d suggest you stow your comments and look behind me,” said Harr with some grit.

  The guards slowly raised their eyes up and Harr couldn’t help but feel a bit of enjoyment at the realization that they had noticed Parfait. While the Senior Diplomat was seemingly useless at most things, Harr had the sneaking suspicion that he was currently in his element.

  As if their legs had been suddenly cut off at the knee, the guards were on the ground, kneeling with heads bowed.

  “Blessed is His Lordship,” they said in unison.

  Harr looked back at Jezden, giving him a “Heh…who knew?” look.

  Parfait, however, stayed firmly in character. He moved forward and said, “Rise, my children.”

  The guards looked up, confused.

  “Your translator,” Harr whispered, gesturing at his necklace.

  “Ah, yes…sorry.” He clicked a little button and then cleared his throat. “You may rise!”

  Both sentries stood and moved out of the way, carefully tucking their swords back into their sheaths as Parfait, Sandoo, and Harr strode past them.

  Though the streets were still teeming with action, an incredibly wide path opened in front of Inquisitor Parfait as he walked purposefully toward the center of town. Not a single set of eyes dared look at any of the three. Harr found this disturbing. How any one person could wield so much power was unfathomable.

  Reaching the center of town, they were greeted with a series of wooden bleachers that were full to the hilt. A line of people filled the gap between the rows, each waiting for a spot to sit and watch the show. Something told Harr that the show they were watching was likely involving the grizzly death of an innocent.

  Stepping up in line, Parfait turned and said, “Looks like it may be quite a wait.”

  Harr squinted at him and then reached out and tapped the shoulder of the man they were waiting behind.

  “Back of the line,” said the man, gruffly, not even bothering to look back.

  Harr tapped his shoulder more firmly.

  “Look, you…” the man turned around, slowly looked up until his eyes reached the point of the hat that Parfait was wearing, and then he just took off screaming.

  That roused others too look back to see what was going on. One by one, the line dispersed, leaving the SSMC Reluctant passengers standing at the entrance to the pit.

  Sure enough, there were three stakes pounded into the ground. Strapped to each were women that Harr assumed were “witches.” Surrounding them sat six large bonfires. None of the fires were close enough to do any damage to the helpless victims, but those fires were on big carts, and those carts had burly men standing at the ready to obviously push them toward the stakes.

  “…and these witches have tried to bring the demons to our world!”

  Boo!

  “No, we’re didn’t!” screamed one of the women. “We’re not witches at all! I’m just a dressmaker!”

  “Did you or did you not use the color red in one of your designs?” accused a man who had on a hat just as pointy as Parfait’s.

  “Yes, but that was at your request, sire!”

  The Parfait lookalike glanced around, seeming somewhat shaken by that comment. “Ah-ha,” he declared finally. “I did indeed do this, as a test to see if it were true about you being a witch!”

  Cheer!

  “But you didn’t accuse me of being a witch until I told you the price of the dress you’d ordered!”

  “It was an outrageous price,” said the man. Then he looked around again, coughed, and added, “And that made me wonder if you were…a witch!”

  Cheer!

  “Do something,” Harr said to Parfait.

  “Hmmm?”

  “You can’t just stand there and let them burn those people, sir,” said Harr. “You know there’s no such thing as witches.”

  “Yes, yes, true. But he is right that some of those custom made dresses are insanely priced.”

  Harr turned and gave Parfait a stern look.

  “Right. Yes. Okay.” Parfait squared his shoulders, adjusted his hat, and strode powerfully into the arena with Harr and Jezden in tow.

  The crowd came to a sudden hush.

  “And now, you will—”

  “Stop!”

  “Who dares speak to me thusly?”

  “I do,” said Parfait, stepping up face-to-face with his fellow Inquisitor.

  They stared down each other, each refusing to flinch.

  “And you are?”

  “Inquisitor Parfait,” said Parfait, tightly. “And you?”

  “Full Inquisitor Looby,” said Looby, gaining the upper hand.

  “Ah, yes,” said Parfait, keeping his eyes locked on Looby’s, “I recall that in these backwater towns you still go about using the full title. Let me, therefore, amend mine. I am Uber Inquisitor Parfait.”

  “Uber?” said Looby with a tilt of his head. “What does that mean?”

  “Oh, you know…uh, top dog, the big kahuna, super cat…that kind of thing.”

  “Sorry, don’t understand.”

  “Hmmm,” said Parfait, obviously fishing for more words. “Prime, chief…” Parfait looked back at Harr for a moment, “What’s that one that Geezer…oh, yes, honcho.”

  “Sorry,” Looby said with an apologetic shrug.

  “Well, let’s just say I’m ranked higher than Full Inquisitor, shall we?”

  “How do I know that for certain?”

  Harr looked up and noted that Parfait’s hat stood a good foot taller than Looby’s. That would do it, if he could figure out a way to gingerly inform Parfait of the point. As it was, the two Inquisitors just stood there, scratching their chins while thinking things through.

  Finally, Harr figured it was worth the risk. “My Lord?”

  “Hmmm? Yes?”

  “Was it not your grace that worked with the, uh, Mother Church to make it so that these discrepancies could be easily rectified by measuring hat height?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Parfait while furrowing his brow. “What’s this church you speak…” he paused, obviously noting the look on Harr’s face. “Oh, Oh! Indeed, yes, I was the one who thought of that. I’m sure that the memo arrived to Full Inquisitor Looby on that particular subject as well, seeing that he is certainly a man that is in-the-know, yes?”

  Looby looked unsure, especially as he looked over Harr, but seemed to be calculating things. “Of course I did,” he said, finally. “The infamous Hat-Height Proclamation. That was you?”

  “Indeed, it was,” answered Parfait.

  “Well, then, I must apologize for my impertinence. One can never be too careful in these parts, what with all of the impostors and such.”

  “Of course, of course,” said Parfait, before adding, “but it is obvious that my hat is well taller than yours, so I think that we can now put the matter of who is in charge here to rest, yes?”

  Looby grimaced, but it was clear he had no choice in the matter. “Yes, sire,” he said, resignedly.

  “Now, you know how it is,” said Parfait, conspiratorially while leaning closer to Looby, “I
have no choice but to make a statement when I come to town.”

  “A pardon, you mean?”

  Harr noted how Parfait was keeping solidly in character. “Sadly, yes. If I don’t do this, then the masses will wonder about positions of power and that will undermine everything we’ve worked for.”

  “They’ll be disappointed,” said Looby, looking at the three intended victims. “They love a good burning.”

  “Really? I would imagine that they wouldn’t want to be burned at all.”

  “Hmmm? Oh, no, Inquisitor Parfait. I meant the crowd would be disappointed.”

  “Ah…leave that to me,” he said with a wink. “Please have your soldiers put out the fires as I address the crowd.”

  “As you wish,” said Looby.

  Parfait then turned to the crowd and spread his hands out, silencing their chatter. Within moments the only sound that could be heard was that of distant wolves bellowing in the moonlight.

  Harr stood impressed as Parfait stepped up on a small platform that generally faced the bleachers.

  “My children,” he said strongly, “I am Inquisitor Parfait. I come from the Mother Church to cleanse your souls, which, by the way, I’ll be available to do for you later.” He leaned down toward Looby and added, “I’ll just need to get a nice large tub with warm, soapy water, if you can get that set up.”

  The looks of terror were almost audible.

  “These three that are accused of being witches are indeed as wretched and cursed as each of you, are they not?”

  The silent terror got a little louder.

  “I have seen many cases such as this,” Parfait said. “People tied to various devices, some clothed, some not. Why, there was that time when I was in college where a number of my fellow students were tied face-down. It was all part of a hazing. Good-natured, fun, you see? I was one of the men tied down. It was a mix of humiliation and exhilaration, truth be told. Well, we—”

  “Sire?” said Harr in a harsh whisper as he noted the faces in the crowd had a different brand of terror strewn across them.

  “Hmmm?”

  “Stay in character, sir.”

  Parfait looked up and said, “The point I’m trying to make is that we are all infested with sin in one way or another. These three children,” he said, gesturing back at the three tied to the stakes, “nearly suffered a fate that we all deserve.”