The rings were now appearing so fast that the wooshing sounds had given way to the sound of a hurricane force gale. “This is awesome,” Mark said,” if we could build these and sell them to entertainment parks we’d get rich.”
Wayne focused, “Great idea Mark, we’ll do that as soon as we figure out what in tarnation they are, exactly where in the blazes we are, and how do we get back to said entertainment parks.”
“Glad to see you’re feeling better,” said Mark to Wayne, still grinning and now slightly pumping his hands up and down like he was dancing to music only he could hear. “Personally, I’m having a great time.”
The white haze began to pulse with silver flashes and became slightly transparent. With each pulsation the silver flashes increased intensity and the haze became more and more transparent, as did the car and everyone in it. Very quickly you could have said they looked more gone than present. Sensing what was imminent, Wayne looked at the Unit Captain and mouthed the words “Hasta luego” while performing a quite small wave with just the fingers on his left hand. The Captain understood exactly what was going to happen and hoisted his weapon into the ready position. He aimed at the car and began to squeeze the trigger.
“Stop, stop,” yelled the second-in-command, “don’t shoot,” and in an instant the car, its passenger and a substantial amount of music equipment vanished.
The unit commander tore from the scene, ran up the alley and yelled “Open please” to the back door. He sliced through the sections as they opened and raced down the hallway. Coming to the elevator he punched the button hard, several times and entered just as he could clear the doors. “Really, one push would have been sufficient”, thought the elevator. On the inside he punched the top floor button quickly and slumped against the side wall, completely oblivious to its beautiful interior. When the doors opened he gathered himself and walked as quickly as possible to the receptionist. She immediately pointed him toward a large chamber room behind her and he entered immediately.
“Excuse me sir,” said the commander to a man looking out the window.
“Yes,” said the man who continued to survey the area below.
“The transport we were guarding has vanished, sir,” said the commander, “and I believe several persons of interest were inside when it went.”
“Yes,” replied the man, “I gathered as much. That will sometimes happen you know.”
“I’ll form a unit to follow them,” said the commander.
“To where would you follow them?” replied the man. A frown started to form on the commander’s face upon realizing standard protocol simply would not work this time. “Commander, I think you should write an incident report of this occasion and submit it for review,” said the man.
“There was really nothing we could do,” implored the commander.
“Well yes, that sometimes is the case,” said the man, who finished, “it’s nothing that can’t be sorted in a good report. The commander turned to leave the room. “Commander, I know what you are worried about, so let me give you some advice,” offered the man, “put forward one of your unit members for valor in the face of unknown danger. The situation was mostly inexplicable wasn’t it?”
“It certainly was,” said the commander.
“Well then, pick a good lad and put him up for commendation, who would question that?” suggested the man.
“Thank you sir, thank you,” replied the commander as he again turned to leave the room not quite fully understanding events of the last five minutes.
“Think absolutely nothing of it,” said Prenetian.
CHAPTER TEN
TUGURRO
A Jump Starter is an absolutely amazing invention. It is rumored that the new Jump Starter-T is capable of also rendering its user to any time period in history, forward or past. The Jump Starter Corporation has flatly refused to discuss the matter with news reporters, the public, government officials, and especially the military. Any rumor of the development of a time jumper has been quashed with absolute and complete silence. But there is an old saying, “If there isn’t a story, invent one.” The “rags,” people who make it their business to report every crazy story heard in the universe, didn’t back down on the rumor. While that doesn’t necessarily carry much weight with the public; a rag recently refused to withdraw his story of a Cyclomonoarisaur storming about on Brutinian 12, but this time the rags may have it right. For the record, Cyclomonoarisaurs are one-eyed creatures the size of 20 transports with smallish arms, whoppingly large legs, a sizable tail for balance, and a considerable mouth full of meter- length teeth.
Anyway, it turns out some very lucky rag was in the right place at the right time with a very good holomera telephoto lens and snapped a crisp picture of Jasim Sala, President of Jump Starter Corporation dashing about his private grounds in an Edsel Corsair, circa 1958 from Terra Bulga. The question of course was how Jasim Sala got his hands on an 804 year old transport from another planet (calculated by using the time displacement correction equation between time in earth’s universe and that of the Jump Starter’s corporate offices). The Edsel was in mint condition we might add. The Jump Starter Corporation has refused to discuss the matter claiming the very fine pictures of Mr. Sala and the Edsel were a complete fabrication and rumor, and when the pictures were presented as evidence proposed they were “touched-up.” Corporate secrets and espionage are a beautiful thing, aren’t they?
Properly programmed a Jump Starter can transport anyone and anything to almost anywhere. The machine has pinpoint accuracy that could place a ball back in its bearing in a motor 12 light years distant. However, if the Jump Starter is engaged without sufficient programming, all bets are off so to speak. Engaging an un-programmed Jump Starter is like purchasing a clearing house airplane ticket. While a full fair ticket will take you directly to your destination, a clearing house ticket may route you six ways to Sunday, that is, five stops, three very long layovers and an emergency landing before not reaching your intended vacation spot. Are you having fun yet?
“Excuse me but exactly where are we Amelia,” said Blackie.
“Uhmm,” came the reply, “not exactly sure.”
Wayne turned in his seat and looked at Nita, “Let me know when you think we are no longer clueless.”
“See, they just said push the button,” pleaded Amelia, “that’s all, just push the button.” Everyone looked at Amelia the way people look at someone who just took advice from a disembodied voice. “I think it was a Lactrodectopoi,” she said.
Mark looked at Amelia then Wayne and proclaimed, “Hey, maybe we’re not that clueless after all, I mean we don’t take advice from just anyone, the Lactrodectopoi were all right, I thought, in a weird otherworldly kind of way.” Everyone seemed to agree, mostly because that was the least disturbing option, and then sat for a long time without saying another word. The silence was interrupted by Wayne who started smiling really big, and then laughed loudly.
“What’s so funny?” said Mark.
“Well” said Wayne as he tried to bridle the laugh, and then punched Mark, “well, the last time we were in this situation, we managed to get ourselves arrested immediately. Shall we try again?”
“Splendid idea,” mused Blackie from the back seat, “there is simply nothing like incarceration to get a trip started off right.”
“Say again,” offered Nita.
“Oh nothing, nothing really,” said Blackie, “I was just casting my vote for another jail sentence. If we play our cards right maybe we can have an arrest record on every planet we visit.”
“How many did you intend to visit” replied Nita.
“None,” said Blackie, “none.”
Wayne started the car. “Any thoughts?” he asked.
“Go right,” said Blackie, who closed his eyes, promptly went to sleep and began to snore.
“Sorry Nita,” said Mark who looked at Blackie slumped against the door then returned his gaze to Nita, “he snores.”
“I gathered
.”
“That’s why we normally put him in the back by the hatch.” Wayne pulled forward to look over a slight rise.
“What is it with these aliens and crystal highways,” he asked.
Nita looked in the rear view mirror, caught Wayne eyes and said, “We don’t rub the road.”
“They, I mean, you what?” said Wayne.
“They don’t rub the road,” said Mark, “they use hovercraft - the Nomad is a bit of an antique Wayne.”
“Get off,” said Wayne, “this car is the pinnacle of transportation.”
“No really,” insisted Mark, “Nita has a hover craft that is sweet, deep translucent candy apple red, with sweet landing pods, and a 49cc percussion drive that churns out 88,000 equies.” Nita looked at Mark with a look of amazement. “It probably has forced particle induction with bifurcated injectors to get that kind of power,” Nita looked amazed again. “Nita built the engine herself,” said Mark, who hadn’t told Nita he perused a car magazine in the grocery store while he was “shopping.”
“Really,” said Wayne, “you know anything about carburetors?”
“Well I rewired mine,” said Nita, “but it tends to get stuck in the long mode.”
“The what?” said Wayne?
“You know the long mode; mine makes both short chain and long chain carbohydrates, like for sweetening or for making pastas and bread and mine gets stuck.” Everyone else laughed, except Blackie, he snored.
“What’s funny?” asked Nita going rather red in the face.
“I’m sorry Nita, let me explain,” said Wayne who launched into a complete dissertation on gasoline engines, carburetors, floats, venturis, and the like. By the time he was finished Blackie was awake and they had pulled into town. “Great,” said Wayne, “no apparent ban on metal yet, and no crisp policemen, so far we’ve failed to repeat.”
“That’s a drag,” yawned Blackie. Wayne parked the Nomad in front of what looked like a small restaurant.
“Now what to do,” said Mark. Amelia pulled at her back pocket and produced the card Mark had returned to her.
“I wonder if this is any good?” she said, “I’m starving.”
“Oh, those are good everywhere,” said Nita.
“I bet I know somewhere they are not good,” quipped Blackie, thinking of the Getaway Bar and Grill on Otis-hell highway on Earth, or anywhere on Earth for that matter.
“How about we eat?” said Amelia.
“Great idea,” said Mark bounding out of the car and opening the door for Nita. Blackie got out of the car and looked at Wayne who was already standing beside the Nomad watching Mark nearly break his neck trying to open the door for Nita before she opened it herself.
Wayne looked at Blackie and grinned, “Oh I say, after you chap,” he intoned in a Scottish brogue.
“Oh never,” Blackie returned in a pathetic attempt at a dignified London accent, “after you governor, after you.”
“Oh no I insist,” Wayne returned.
“Never sir, never,” Blackie added in a slightly better attempt.
Mark turned red and with a pleading look faced Wayne and Blackie, “Alright, give it a rest.”
“Give it a rest governor,” said Blackie.
“Oh, yes, good show, a rest it shall have,” replied Wayne who pointed the way to the restaurant door. Blackie did his best curtsey and slipped by. Amelia laughed so hard she doubled over and got a stitch in her side. Blackie held open the door to the restaurant and did his best British salute as Mark, Nita, Wayne and Amelia entered. The restaurant was larger than it looked from the front. Tables with nice cloth covers were neatly arranged on clean ceramic looking floors. Overhead fans stirred the air and cast a pleasant light throughout the room. They quickly made their way to a table about midway to the back wall.
Everyone sat down and Wayne leaned over to Nita and whispered, “Say, I…I mean to say” he stammered, “I’m sorry about that alien comment I, I just...
Nita smiled and looked Wayne directly in the eyes, “Wayne, don’t mention it please. I think I understand what you must be going through. I’ve ridden in the Nomad,” she smiled again.
“Yeah, highly developed lot aren’t we?” he whispered.
Then Nita’s face shifted to a mean look and she said, “But if you offend me again, I’ll zap you into tiny little particles with my third eye.”
Wayne’s throat constricted slightly and he wondered it Mark knew about this, “You have a third eye do you” he said weakly.
“Oh, heavens no,” laughed Nita, “But the Bulgarti on Chrystialia do,” she continued, “and they will zap you out of sheer spite or boredom.” Mark was looking over Wayne’s shoulder toward the door, completely oblivious to what they were talking about.
“Oh, that’s not right,” he said. “No don’t turn around.” Everyone was rigid. “There is a frog person sitting across from a winged insect thingy person at the table behind us.” They didn’t want to eavesdrop but they couldn’t help overhearing part of the conversation.
“Yes, I do like you very much,” said the frog person, “but you must understand I’m fighting a very strong impulse to eat you.”
“You are a spineless toad,” said the winged insect thingy person and she stood up and walked out of the restaurant.”
“Whew,” Mark exclaimed.
“Just what I thought,” said the waiter. They looked up to find a very tall and large leathery looking creature with an upturned ridge in the middle of his face, and a perfectly pressed towel over his arm. “I can’t say that I blame her though,” said the waiter, “he ate her mother and two of her sisters last week. Do you want to see a menu, or just have drinks?” he asked.
“Let me,” said Nita, “Tugurro we would like to have a sprot of Jinko, with ice, and three plates of Calca to share.” “Okay, let’s see, a sprot of Jinko and three Calca, got it,” and he proceeded to the kitchen.
“How did you know his name?” asked Mark.
“The name tag was a dead giveaway,” replied Nita smiling.
“What name tag?”
“The one on his shirt.”
“There was no name tag on his shirt,” added Wayne.
“Oh, you can’t see,” said Nita.
“I can see perfectly fine thank you very much,” retorted Wayne.
“No you can’t,” said Nita, “this could make things way more complicated.”
“What are you going on about?” said Wayne.
“The name tag,” said Blackie, “it’s written in ink we can’t see because out eyes don’t detect that color range.”
“How did you know that?” said Nita rather impressed.
“It was the only logical explanation,” replied Blackie, “or you are hallucinating and we are all not really here.”
Ignoring that last bit Nita pressed on, “Not to worry, I think we can manage, I’ll be right back.” She stood and went out the front door.
About five minutes later, just after the sprot of Jinko arrived she returned with a medium-sized bag. “Try these on,” said Nita.
“Wow,” said Mark, “there are rad posters on the walls.”
“Great, they work. You are going to need these,” she added, “much of what’s written in the universe is written with Gallric Ink from Titsusitia. I think they have an inter-galactic single source contract for 400 more years.”
Blackie looked at his pair of glasses and asked,” how do they work?”
“Oh, they are for older people who are losing their eyesight, they concentrate the light and change the spectrum to make it easier for old people to see, or in your case make it visible.”
Blackie put them on and looking around the room and remarked, “Too bad they don’t come with a built in translator."
“It’s written in Quantoon,” said Nita, “very easy to learn, I can show you….. no really Mark it’s easy.” Mark had rolled his eyes; learning a new language wasn’t very high on his list or things to do or his own perceived skill set.
&nbs
p; “Mark honestly, it’s really easy,” she said convincingly, “and the language is wonderful, almost like poetry or song.”
“Well, that might not be so bad,” Mark thought, “I could write songs in Quantoon.” “Maybe I’ll give it a go once we’ve eaten and figure out where we are.”
Tugurro returned with three plates of Calca. Everyone began to eat and drink and it wasn’t long before they were feeling refreshed. Blackie thought the Calca was delicious but he was afraid to ask what it was for risk of spoiling a nice lunch. It was a case of ignorance is bliss or don’t ask for conscience sake, take your pick. Tugurro returned to ask if anyone wanted dessert.
Amelia leaned over to Nita, “Do you think we spent much, I’m worried about the card balance?”
“No, not much at all,” said Nita, “and I have my card in my pocket if we need extra.”
Blackie looked at the dessert menu intently as if to discern the difference between one desert that he had never heard of, and another, that he had never heard of, not to mention the fact it was in Quantoon.
“I’m afraid this is no use to me at all,” remarked Blackie as he ditched the menu on the table.
“If you’d like, I can order a few things” offered Nita.
Mark was still looking at the dessert menu with a perplexed look on his face, “That sounds like a brilliant idea.” Nita ordered three desserts for the five of them to share.
Turrugo spun around and headed to the kitchen. “He’s pretty light on his feet,” commented Wayne, “for a, I mean, a….what is he exactly?”
“Cerotodairhin,” replied Nita. He is a Cerotodairhin; probably young. Fully grown Cero’s are about 2.5 meters tall. They are delightful beings, very patient, which is why they’re among the best waiters in the universe. But don’t make them angry. They have a long fuse but when it’s spent, they are rather frightening. I heard a story once about a Jeperia who walked out on a bill; the Cerotodairhin waiter tracked him for 32 quilongs before he found him and confiscated payment and, according to the rumors, convinced the Jeperian to never stiff a Cerotodairhin again.
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