“HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELP ME! SOMEONE!”
I sighed. His defences were high, and unfortunately for me the culprit behind these criminal machinations must have finally tumbled to my methods and sent a squad of guardsmen to interrupt the questioning. From behind me, I heard the huffing and clomping of a dozen official boots as some uniformed flunkies streamed out onto the balcony.
With others to appeal to, the carefully orchestrated power play was punctured. He’d never answer me now. I pivoted and deposited him on the solid ground again, where he lay like a puddle to be scooped up by a couple of the uniforms. Foiled again! I resolved not to show it in front of these double agents. I turned to face them calmly.
“Lovely view, isn’t it? I was just helping the gentleman... look for his contact lenses. He dropped them over the side, you see.” I paused, looked at their expressions. “I’d better be back to my investigations.” I said quickly.
I swept past them, brooking no reply.
It was a lovely view though, I thought as I turned back to it. But the pleasantness of the evening’s vista offered me no solace. In a day the sky would be filled with the fireworks of the universe; a comet shower. In the streets below garlands and banners were being strewn for the celebration. A huge gala with all of the Royalty in attendance. And I was still no closer to finding out what was happening there. And if the dread figure of the Master Baker was still in Aplubia he was still hidden from me, in some dark corner, making cakes and murder and also steak bakes. I lurched down the stairs for a post-dangling think. Time was constricting around me like an eel. I’d have to crack the next suspect. I had to.
I wondered if Funkworthy was encountering as much trouble as me from agents of the enemy.
* * *
Chapter Ten!!!!!!!!!!
Tea and Revolutions
In which Space bests his clone combatant, the Prince makes his escape and Funkworthy is arrested for crimes he did not commit.
“Weirdo”, they called me as they ejected me from the centre.
My education had not gone well, apparently.
The drug was wearing off in my system, but I still felt a little bit delicate and had the lingering sense that I was just another facet of the universe and that my veins were filled with light. I think that trying to explain these certainties to my captors may have been what led to my expulsion.
As I stumbled out the door and into the caverns once again, I saw that Felipe was lurking nearby and waiting to meet me. Or at least I hoped that was him. I had already, in my short walk from the door, confused a friendly-looking boulder and my own shadow for the rebel (with mixed results). But when he walked up to me and took my arm, a feeling of solid reality washed over me.
“You look rough, T-Bone. What the devil did they do to you in there?”
“Oh, the usual, I suppose. They rode me around on a pony made of stars, and then explained that life and death were just differences in the vibrational structure of the universe, before washing my soul in a big tin bath full of lice and liquid love.”
“Hmmmm”, Felipe mused. “Those pigs must have changed up their methods-when I got my treatment, they just stuck sharp things up me and lectured me on how four fingers can be five if I just believed in it. Blasted doublethink!”
I nodded happily and fell into step with him as we walked down a narrow path adjacent to the main lines of prisoner intake.He strode with confidence and I stumbled after him trying to collect myself together. Time was returning to me as a concept and I worried. How long had I been under, I wondered. Had I missed the Hailstrom comets, had I been unconscious for more than a day? Panic stole over me as I tried to put together the last few hours, dragging behind Felipe. I felt as if I had been underground forever and had made too little traction in the investigation. No baker, no known plans. I had to pull myself together.
“Did you use the ampoule of medication?” he asked, looking into my pupils and watching me as I waved my hands in front of my face in silent wonder.
“I did.”
“Did it work?”
“I think you may want to consider changing the formula somewhat”, I said. We had walked near a small alcove and Felipe’s voice changed from friendly concern to business.
“I do not wish to ignore your hardships, Tito, but did you manage to place the tracer on someone headed to the detention compound?”
“I believe that I did”, I said honestly. It was all a little bit fuzzy before the point where my third eye opened up, to be frank, but I did have a memory of putting the button on someone.
Felipe grinned and nodded. “I’m sure you did, T-Bone. You have become a great asset to us. Now, as promised, I’m looking forward to introducing you to our leader Jacques. He has heard of your great deeds and your dedication to the cause, and he would be most welcoming of an audience with you. But we must hurry, time is short.”
“Time… is short?” I marvelled at this astounding concept but then shook my head violently, trying to clear the fog of the drug in my veins. Felipe marched over to a nearby boulder and, looking about him cautiously first, quickly moved it aside and dove into a hole. I followed suit a moment later, lifting aside the hollowed-out boulder with ease and crawling in after him.
We shuffled on our knees down the caverns, and maybe it was still the chemicals being processed through my system, but I felt my heart lift. I had gone through considerable pains down in the underclass, but all of that was to pay off soon. I was about to be introduced to the highest rebel authority. I would learn who was behind the assassination and the identity of this shadowy Benefactor, trace the Baker to wherever he hid and crack the case!
I could feel myself tightening the net around the guilty parties and was heartened further to know that I was not alone. Unseen, working the case from the other side, was Captain Space Hardcore. He’d be shaking down suspects and getting answers of his own. This case would be through soon, I knew.
“Cup of tea?” I asked innocently.
“Don’t mind if I do”, she said. She was a lady of means all right, swaddled up in her furs and pearls. She would barely even look toward me. Suspect three, I thought with relish. Time to change up the tactics as, I had to admit, I was getting mixed results.
“Nothing closer to my heart than a good cup of chai”, I replied as I beamed at her.
I stood up, popped my head out the door and asked an idling servant for a big pot of tea and two cups, with all the trimmings, and then sat back down and faced her. We were seated in one of the elegant palace rooms, far from the dank questioning cells. All the better to surprise this suspect, the Lady Fecily DeFarquarr.
She looked glacial and detached-a pose commonly affected by the upper classes. I would test that façade soon enough, I thought, and stifled a smile.
“I know and you know that you had nothing to do with that awful crime”, I lied smoothly, “but for appearances sake I have to appear to question you, so what’s say we make this as pleasant as possible and have a nice chat over a brew?”
Looking down her nose, she deigned a haughty “Quite.”
Time to initiate phase one, I thought.
“I’m going to see what’s keeping the lad with our refreshments, m’lady.”
I bounded across the room and tore open the door. The boy was just outside with a tray of tea things, but with a brisk hand motion I halted him before the door. I snatched a small jug from the tray and made my way to the nearby bathroom.
When I had asked Snoopel about the small possibility of... chemically enhanced interrogation, he had looked at me like I was a lunatic. But I had cheerfully laughed, slapped him on the back and assured him that in no way was I going to drug anyone, passing the query off as a joke. Even after that, he seemed reluctant to point me in the direction of a pharmacy-even when I insisted cunningly that it was ‘not for truth serums’. The man was too suspicious. Correct, but too suspicious. What he hadn’t reckoned on was my powerful and renowned improvisational ab
ilities.
As I unzipped my fly, I congratulated myself on the ingenuity of the plan. They’d never see this coming.
It had been in my brief time enlisted in the Super Secret Space Spy Service (yes, the S.S.S.S.S (you may not have heard of them because they’re an uncommonly secretive bunch)) that I had been taught the basic tenets of persuasive pharmacology. For our unit’s ultra-classified manoeuvres, we would, naturally, not be afforded every luxury and accoutrement of the regular COAR corps operatives. This meant that we would have to make do with whatever we found in the field, turning everyday items into deadly weapons or useful tools. I took to it naturally, of course, and I found that I had an intuitive grasp of advanced chemistry that meant I could elide a lot of the fancy words and book learning. I knew things in my gut. My gut may not have known what happens if you mix hydrachlorawhatever with rypoxynucleathingamy, but it knew what worked, it knew what to trust and it told me when I was hungry; and that was more than good enough for me.
The most powerful lesson-and the one that got me kicked out of the unit-was the improvised truth serum. They gave me the brew, since I was the recruit that was most vocal about my unbreakability. I had not expected it to be as effective as it turned out to be, and I admit that I found myself saying indecorous things unbidden. Truths came from me, such as how attractive I found my instructor’s wife and the few times in the past where I have undertaken the understandable experiment of testing the comfort and combat suitability of wearing undergarments more commonly associated with the fairer sex. It was as the effects were wearing down and I found myself in the middle of a titillating story involving the bordello planet of Nymphulon 6 that my commander informed me that I was no longer ‘squad material’. The unlisted side effect of the drug-a disturbing level of flatulence-did not aid my protestations and may in fact have hindered them. But though I was ejected for such a trifle, I retained the memory of the powerful serum that had been my downfall.
Among the usual batch of multi-syllable nonsense words chemists used to sound smart, I remember two active ingredients: an enzyme found in disinfectant soap and urea. The latter is a chemical found in that most distasteful but versatile of liquids, human tinkle. I figured I could make up for my lack of the esoteric chemicals if I just used lashings of both of the main two- it was basic chemistry. My gut told me that that equation made a bucket of sense. So in the palace bathroom, tea jug in hand, I ripped a sachet of disinfectant soap from the wall, went into a stall and made some damn science happen.
When I stepped back in the room, I had to keep the tray positioned perfectly even. My ‘milk jug’ had a bit of a foamy head to it and, due to misjudging my own internal reservoir (so to speak), it was millimetres away from overflowing. She scarcely looked round at me as I set it down on the table, since she was busy casting a dubious eye on the jug, which was fizzing quite audibly. Maybe I had used too much detergent, or not enough wee. Too late now; I covered for it with bluster while pouring the tea.
“Well if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself, isn’t that right, Miss DeFarquarr? A nice cup for you”, I said as I poured, “and for me. And, naturally, some milk for your cup. I prefer black, so I’ll leave off, but plenty for youuu-”
As I went to pour the frothing concoction, she covered the cup with her hand.
“I also take black”, she said snootily.
Damn. I had to improvise. She’d move her hand if I just tipped it, I thought.
“Oh dear, well, I’ve already started....” I let a thin stream of the concoction dribble out of the spout, but she held her hand fast over the top of the cup. My soapy urine splashed all over her hand.
“You buffoon! What do you think you’re doing?!” She withdrew her hand and gave it a suspicious sniff. “Aren’t you going to clean that up?”
“Ew, no way! I mean, I’m sure someone else will do that. Hm. Well, maybe I’ll have some milk in mine so this delicious stuff doesn’t go to waste. Are you sure you’re fine? It smells... fresh!”
“It smells off, Captain, and for the last time, I take my tea black.”
“Hmph, more for me then. Good.” She didn’t rise to my cunning reverse psychology.
I re-strategized. I looked at the milk jug and at the cups. Apart from the spout, they were of similar dimensions-a lucky coincidence I could try to turn to my advantage. If I could find a cunning enough ruse, I could slip the jug into her saucer and the next time she took a sip, she would get a mouthful of Captain Space Hardcore’s own personal reserve. I looked out of the window for a possible point of interest to draw her attention. It would have to be believable.
“Look at that massive thing!” I bellowed, pointing out the window.
She barely even moved an eyebrow. Damn these disaffected aristocrats.
“What thing?” she icily enquired.
“Look! It’s massive! And it’s on fire! You’ve got to see it for yourself. Why, I never thought I’d see one of those!”
“Use your words and describe it”, she suggested, sighing.
“Ooh, it’s running off! It’s almost away.” I cupped my hand to my ear. “And it’s calling your name! That IS bizarre.”
She sighed again and got to her feet. In a flash, I swapped out her cup for the jug and took a seat.
She peered out the window before casting a quizzical look at me. “I don’t see anything.”
I waved my hand distractedly, “Oh, well, it’s gone now. I am thirsty from all this excitement.” I took a gulp of my tea to plant the notion in her head.
“No, what was that? You said it was on fire and calling my name!” She persisted at the window.
“Must have been a... stray... dog. Mmmm. This tea is delicious.”
She finally sat and picked up the jug by the handle, casting me a look I frankly did not appreciate. She raised the jug to her mouth. I watched her intently, but at the last second she cast her eye down and saw the distinctive shape of the jug. She immediately looked up at me, her eyes narrowing.
“Oh, no”, I corrected severely. “That’s the milk jug there, m’lady... on your saucer. Your cup is here. You must have mistaken the two.” She picked up the cup and cast me another disapproving look.
“I could not have, Captain. One very plainly has a spout and is spilling over with some suspiciously fizzing foam.”
She was right. I was a fool to think she wouldn’t spot the difference of receptacle. I’d have to fill my own cup and repeat the switcheroo.
I lowered my cup below the table out of her sight and poured a healthy stream of the liquid into it.
Unfortunately for me, I hadn’t counted on the heat from the tea somehow activating the detergent that was mixed in with the willy-water. The already frothing liquid hit the cup and immediately started multiplying in mass and volume, producing a thick foaming lather that rose up to the lip of the cup in seconds.
I lowered it even further below her eyeline under the table and shook the cup back and forth, trying to disperse the foamy head, but the sound was still too loud. I thought quick and started whistling to mask the noise. She gazed over at me, questioningly, so I just fixed her with a friendly look and kept whistling a jaunty tune.
I cast a quick eye below the table, where I was holding the cup. The foam started to spill over with no sign of abating.
“What are you doing?” she asked with unwarranted hostility.
I whistled on, giving her a friendly shrug.
“What are you doing with your hands?!” Damn, but she was inquisitive.
“Letting the milk settle!” I blurted out and picked up my whistling again. The hot liquid spilled over my hands. I shook the cup more, trying to get rid of the mushrooming head. It was getting all over my trousers.
“Why are you staring at me like that? Let me see your hands!”
The foam reaction was slowing down. I had to distract her. She was a pretty society lady; I knew I could charm and flatter her.
“You know”, I said, shaking milky pee remnants from my saucer over my crotch, now heedless of the mess, “you’re a very beautiful lady.”
Her eyes widened. I took up my whistling again, keeping eye contact as best I could. I was aware that my eyes kept darting down to my lap to check that the chemical reaction had abated. I couldn’t help it.
“I demand to see what you are doing!”
A glance, a whistle-I shook the cup, spilling the foam from on top and looked back at her.
“Hold on, nearly there”, I muttered.
She stood up and shrieked. “INSPECTOR VACTO SNOOPEL!” at the top of her voice. Damn it all, the gig was up. I heard scuffling feet outside my door. I couldn't let Snoopel know my methods, so I dropped the cup on the floor and stood up with my hands raised to show there was nothing untoward happening.
When Snoopel barged in, I saw him look from her to me to my trousers, where the residue of my truth serum was.
Damn.
It didn’t look great.
It didn’t look great, exactly.
We emerged from the hole in another rebel shantytown to find their leader. This must be their main base, I reasoned. I don’t know what I had expected but this was certainly… smaller and scrappier than I had imagined. They hoped to overthrow the government, I thought, with a mix of awe and pity.
I looked around as I stretched my calves and arm muscles. It could even be the same little community as I had been in before. It was hard to tell. The place was a rough village organized in a circular pattern around a large burnt-out husk of a bonfire. People milled around the sides of this communal area or retreated into the hut-like buildings that served as little domiciles or small, almost parodic businesses that sold food or supplies.
“I’m surprised they let you keep these little alcoves of your own humanity, Felipe”, I said, stifling a yawn. “I would have expected them to keep you in barracks or some enclosure where they could regulate you.”
The Court of Crusty Killings: A Captain Space Hardcore Adventure Page 11