by Mort Gloss
Chapter 7 - Attack of the First Class Protector
Lilia Confronts the Heroes;
Tom and Russ' Cadillac El Dorado Coupe Sees Action
"I think she's going to kill you before Balloon even finishes the translator," Russ said to Tom. It had been three days since the travelers arrived at Pedro's village. Rita was assigned to watch over Tom and Russ, as Pedro had stated, in order to "keep those skinny-minded men out of trouble." They now sat in the meeting hall of the gathering facility, doing nothing as Balloon worked with a wide assortment of wires, computer chips, microphones, and speakers.
"Nah, she's totally starting to dig me," said Tom, grinning at Rita as he spoke. She rewarded his gesture with her usual scowl and deep-throated hiss.
The morning after their arrival, Balloon had taken Tom and Russ to the single-wide in order to obtain materials needed for construction of the translators. Pedro had wanted to accompany the travelers to their "landing vessel," but Tom and Russ intervened and instructed Balloon to say no. "What's the big deal?" Balloon had asked. "Y'all shamed of the W.A.S.P. nowadays?"
"That's not it at all," answered Tom. "On the contrary, we are extremely proud of the single-wide, and its various achievements."
"However," added Russ, "she certainly doesn't look anything like these alien dudes' spaceships, which is going to cause a big problem when Pedro gets a look at her, beautiful as she may be."
"I guess y'all is right. We won't let Pedro 'n thems come along fer the ride."
Pedro thought it was strange Balloon would not allow anybody from his village to accompany the travelers to their ship. However, he was even more curious about Balloon's stated purpose for visiting his "landing vessel."
"We gots to git us some stuff to put together a transmaker, y'all know, so all us can talks to all y'all," Balloon had explained.
Pedro pulled Balloon aside, to speak with him out of Tom and Russ' hearing. "Sir, I cannot comprehend why a man of your stature and nobility would travel around with these ... with these ... individuals. Moreover, it is incomprehensible to me why they are unable to speak the common language. From what abandoned and famished planet did they spring, where even the Zaxmorthian common tongue is unknown?"
Balloon hesitated. "They sprang from, er a place way far away yonder from these parts, where peoples can't speak y'alls' language. They's good folk to be 'round; don't worry 'bout 'em nohow."
"It seems to me, with all due respect, my Lord Protector, that they and everybody else from their insignificant planet should be forced to learn the Zaxmorthian common tongue. To be sure, Captain, no one has even heard of a universal translator in Zaxmorthia for hundreds of revolutions. How will you construct the device?"
"I gots the knowhow. Ain't no thang."
"Indeed you are a great man," responded Pedro. With that he left Balloon's side. The travelers had then began their journey to the single-wide. While en route, Tom wondered about Victory's absence.
"Where is she?" he had asked.
"She don't wanna come, on account a she says she's had enough a y'all two to last the rest a her life."
"Well that's just hateful," said Tom with a grin.
"This whole thing is pretty strange though, guys," commented Russ as he sat in the passenger seat. "She's been totally impatient the entire trip and now she's just going to sit tight while Balloon spends three days making a translator? Something's not adding up there."
"Perhaps Ms. Victoria wants to play matchmaker between myself and the lovely Rita. She has so much experience in matters of intergalactic romance."
Russ laughed out loud. "Or maybe she just wants some time to relax with some 19th Century fluff."
"I admit that's the more likely scenario."
Balloon's work on the translator was now nearing completion. He had guessed thousands of times over the preceding days in order to construct the three units. Originally, he had set out to construct four, until he was reminded by Russ that he knew "everything in the universe." The translators were converted from bluetooth headsets Balloon had purchased as part of the "everthangs we need" shopping bonanza. Without any indication why, he had brought the headsets on their journey. In addition to the converted headsets, Tom, Russ, and Victory would be required to wear a tight dog-collar like strap around their necks, each of which contained a speaker positioned over the vocal cords. When spoken to by a Zaxmorthian, the translator would deliver the message in English via the earpiece. When speaking, the translator would convert the signal from English to Zaxmorthian and project the translation through the vocal cord speaker.
"As soon as I get that dog-snarling translator wrapped around my neck, Rita's going to melt like whatever it is they put in those feeding tubes," commented Tom, confident as usual.
Russ laughed as he again noticed Rita scowling at Tom. "I don't think the translator's going to make much difference. In fact, I doubt she'll even talk to you, dog-snarling or not."
As they spoke, Victory entered the room. Rita graciously smiled and beckoned her to take a seat. Then, almost ceremoniously, Rita sat down on a bench far behind the others. After Victory turned away her attention, Rita again took up her scowling expression as she looked at Tom.
Russ, who had observed this scenario many times in the preceding days, whispered to Tom: "Rita seems to have some kind of reverential devotion to Victory. That alone should tell you she's not your type."
"Thus we see the importance of the translator," answered Tom, raising his voice so Victory could hear. "She need only speak to Victory in order to realize no devotion is required."
"Don't be jealous, Starley," said Victory, folding her bulky arms, "it doesn't suit you."
"For once in my life, Victoria," responded Tom, "I may be a bit jealous of you. Did those words just come out of my mouth?"
Balloon, barely paying attention to the conversation, automatically answered the query. "Yup."
"Thanks, Balloon," laughed Tom. "So tell me, my large Lord Protector friend, how close are we on the translators?"
"Ain't nothin' much left to 'em; maybe an hour er so is all. I reckon all y'alls gonna be speakin' Zaxmorthoman by dinner time."
"You mean feeding tube time, yummy," said Tom.
As he spoke, Pedro entered the room. Rita dutifully stood and kept her eyes on the floor as he rounded in front of Balloon.
"Lord Prot... sir," he said, somewhat disheveled. "I have orders to place you under arrest, for violation of Zaxmorthian Penal Code Section 213, Concerning Hooliganism."
Balloon looked up at Pedro as he worked, unaware of the serious nature of the charges. "What, we been caught speedin' er somethin'? I told Tommy not to go so fast when we was headin' back to that there single-wi..., uh landin' vessels."
"Sir," said Pedro. "I do not know what you mean by 'caught speeding.' The First Class Protector we spoke of a few rotations back has apparently been searching the entire planet for petty hooligans. She now informs me you and your traveling companions are the perpetrators they are seeking, and that I am to place you under arrest immediately for crimes against Zaxmorthia."
Balloon nervously bit his lip as he responded. "But none a us ain't done nothin' wrong. We been real good ever since we'all got here."
"Of course you've done nothing wrong. I tried to explain to this First Class Protector that you are a mighty Lord of the Protector Class, and that you clearly outrank her, but she states you are an imposter. My orders are to arrest you now and await her imminent arrival."
Russ, concerned by the expressions on both Balloon and Pedro's faces, intervened: "What's going on, Balloon?"
"Pedro here's bein' told by some first class somethin' to arrest us on account of we bein' hooligans breakin' codes 'n what not."
"Uhhh... that's not good," said Tom.
"Well what does Pedro think?" asked Russ.
"He sayin' he done told her we ain't no criminals 'n that I outrank her er somethin' like that."
"You outr
ank her. What the deuce?" commented Tom, not remotely nervous about any impending arrest.
Russ stood and started pacing. "How long until they get here to arrest us, Balloon?"
Balloon crunched up his face and spit out the answer: "'bout fiteen minutes until they's gonna be here to put us in the slammer."
Victory sighed with annoyance, staring at Tom. "So what do you geniuses propose we do now? Balloon guessed we were supposed to come here because it would help us cure my father. It appears he was wrong."
Russ stopped pacing. "Balloon's never wrong. Gather up your stuff, boys and girls; we're takin' off."
Tom stood up from his chair, facing Russ. "We're not leaving. I haven't even had a chance to talk to Rita yet."
"Who cares?" answered Russ. "She can't stand you; it's obvious. We're not going to risk sitting in some prison on some planet in some different galaxy just because you think she's good looking."
Tom lifted his eyebrows optimistically. "Well, I may really like her personality. There's a chance."
"I agree with Russ. She hates you. Time to move on. Balloon," Victory said, in a commanding voice, "tell Pedro we're leaving, and that he needs to stall them."
"Now wait just a minute," protested Tom. "Balloon said we were supposed to come here for a reason. If we just leave now, we'll never figure out what that reason was."
"We don't have time for this!" snapped Victory. "Balloon, tell him we're leaving and tell him to stall them now!" she yelled.
"Pedro," said Balloon in Zaxmorthian, "we gots to git outta here, 'n we needs y'all to stall 'em when they come a lookin' fer us."
"But, sir, this is silliness. Why even bother leaving? When she sees you she will recognize you are not the hooligan which she seeks and that in fact you are her superior officer. This move makes no sense to me."
"It don't make no sense to me neither, but that's what we gotta do."
"Well then," answered Pedro, somewhat rebuffed, "let me do all I can to assist you. Shall I provide personnel or provisions for your ... escape?"
Balloon, mistaking Pedro's offer for a request that he venture a guess, shut his eyes hard and spit out the answer: "yes, y'all should."
"Very well then, tell me what you require and I will ensure it is yours," answered Pedro.
Victory cut in to the conversation. "Balloon, what's taking so long. We have to go!"
"He said they's can give us persons er provi-somethins to hep us when we blast outta here yonder."
"Well, that's perfect," said Tom, beaming. "Tell him we need Rita's help to navigate the terrain."
"You've got to be joking, Starley," grumbled Victory. "This lady can't stand you."
"She's right, Tom, this isn't the right play," added Russ.
"I told you before. Balloon said we were supposed to come here for a reason, and now Pedro's offering to send someone with us. She can help us, Russ; she knows all about these Zaxmorthians and their people and all that garbage," argued Tom. He was almost begging.
"Well let's just ask Balloon if that's the reason we came then," countered Russ. "We can find out pretty quickly."
"We're running out of time, man. Just go with me on this one," pleaded Tom, not wanting Balloon to guess.
"You realize we're going to have to bring her back, don't you? If we do this, you have to promise me you'll bring her back," said Russ.
"That's a promise I'm willing to make," answered Tom immediately.
"Then whatever. Balloon, ask Pedro if Rita can come with us," sighed Russ, shaking his head as he spoke.
"This is ridiculous," said Victory in her booming voice while she moved to stand in between Tom and Rita. "She hates you, Tom. It's obvious to everybody here but you. Well, maybe not to Balloon, but even Russ agrees with me. You're going to make her miserable based on some unfounded hope she may take a liking to you?"
Tom pondered the question for a few seconds. "That sounds a lot like most of the dating scenarios I was involved in back on Earth. What's the difference now?"
Victory rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath. Balloon looked to Victory, hesitant to ask Pedro for Rita's help. Victory, however, stared stony-eyed at the floor. He decided to proceed.
"Pedro, we ain't got much time, but we'all was wonderin', on account of what y'all said 'bout gittin' some hep, if'n Rita here could come with us 'n hep us figure the land 'n folks 'n all that as we'all travel yonder a piece."
Pedro seemed stunned. "My Captain, of course Rita is available to offer services to you and your associates. However, sir," he added, not bothering to lower his voice, "I have dozens of more qualified citizens for the job. As you can see, Rita is the scrawniest, lowest ranking member of our community."
"She's jist what we'alls lookin' fer. We don't need nobody else."
"Very well, my Lord Protector," he said, conceding the point. Then, turning to Rita: "you have been commissioned by our noble guests to accompany them on their flight from this place. Do you have any objection?" he asked.
Rita stepped forward, her eyes on the ground, a hint of a smile forming on her face. "No, sir. I am eager to serve those of the wide girth."
"Very well. Quickly gather your essentials and meet the company at their land vehicle. There is no time to delay."
"It shall be done," answered Rita, and she was off.
Tom, unable to understand a word of what was said, watched Rita leave with concern. "What's going on, Balloon? Why is Rita leaving?"
"Don't y'all worry nohow; she comin' with us. Pedro told her to git her stuff 'n meet us at the Coupe."
"And we need to do the same," intervened Victory. "Grab all your translator crap and let's get out of here."
"I'm driving!" yelled Russ, as they began to gather up all the materials Balloon had been working on over the past three days.
"As if, Gibson, you almost got us killed last time," responded Tom.
"This is way different; Cadillac's are easier to handle than a single-wide spaceship."
"Fair point, Russell," said Tom.
Exiting the gathering facility, they moved through the residential pods quickly, making their way to the Porcupine Pipe Cadillac parked on the outskirts of the settlement.
As they approached the car, Pedro put his arm around Balloon as best he could, pulling him aside so the others couldn't hear. "Tell me one thing before you leave, my Captain, for I must know. Are you the one? Are you he who is to come?"
Balloon nervously looked over his shoulder. Forgetting his friends were unable to understand Zaxmorthian, he hoped they hadn't heard Pedro's words. "It ain't no thang, Pedro. Don't worry 'bout it nohow."
"If you will not tell me," responded Pedro, "I will not press you. But let me say this: you are not what I expected. And no doubt there are many who will question your station, if indeed you are he. But upon my own reflection, I must tell you, I am convinced. I will therefore support you to the best of my abilities."
"And fer that I thank ya, Pedro. Y'all have been real good to us, givin' us tacos 'n a place to sleep 'n all."
"Farewell to you, my Lord Protector. I am ever at your service."
With that, Pedro turned and headed back toward the residential pods. Balloon and Victory took their usual spots in the back of the Coupe, while Russ took the driver's seat. Tom stood outside the car, waiting for Rita.
"Don't worry, man," said Russ. "She's coming. And surprisingly, she didn't seem upset about it at all."
"I know, right," agreed Tom, "she may have even been smiling."
As he spoke, Rita came into view, emerging from the row of pods on the outskirts of the village. Tom motioned with his hand for her to sit in the middle of the front bench, between him and Russ. Rita complied, hissing at Tom as she passed by him to take her position. Tom then entered the car and closed the door.
"All aboard?" asked Russ.
"Punch it," answered Tom.
Russ moved the automatic transmission from park to drive, releasing his foot from the brake as he did so. The
Coupe had only moved forward about ten feet when the travelers heard a deafening blast. Tom turned around and saw a crater six feet deep where the Cadillac had just recently been parked.
"I think our friends are here," he said. "Get us outta here, Russ."
Russ paused, unsure of himself and shaken by the blast. Victory's voice boomed from the back seat: "hit the gas, moron!"
Russ, in a daze, hesitated for a few seconds before finally pressing down on the accelerator with full force. As he did so, several additional blasts seemed to chase the Coupe as it sped away from Pedro's village.
Tom laughed as the Cadillac raced over the bright green turf. "That was a close one, Gibson."
"We're not done yet. Look!" shouted Russ. A caravan of square, eight-wheeled maroon vehicles, traveling on a perpendicular turf road up ahead, raced to block their path. Tom, looking through the back window of the Coupe, saw a line of similar vehicles coming at them from behind.
"This is going to be more fun than I thought," said Tom, turning back around in his seat. "Do we have a turbo button on this thing?" he joked.
Russ grinded the gas pedal into the floor, but the Coupe was slow to respond. "Man this thing is sluggish today."
"Have you looked in the back seat?" laughed Tom.
Russ, annoyed by Tom's persistent sarcasm, responded: "not really appreciating the jokes right now, man."
Tom reached behind Rita and patted Russ on the back. "See, my good friend, I told you temporary immortality was the way to go. But no... that violates your principles."
"Just shut up and let him concentrate," shouted Victory from the back seat, "or I'll put an end to your immortality right now."
The Coupe, finally garnering some speed, raced closer to the caravan of enemy vehicles up ahead. Russ was unsure whether they would reach the upcoming intersection before their would-be captors. "Balloon," he shouted, "am I going to beat them to that spot, or do I need to go a different way?"
Balloon went through the process faster than usual and spit out a response: "you got her done, long as ya keep that gas pedal to the max."
"See," said Tom, "what did I tell you? Nothing to worry about." As he spoke, rocket blasts cratered the terrain on either side of the turf road, igniting the surrounding vegetation with bright flames and kicking up dirt. "Well, perhaps I spoke out of turn," he added.
The intercepting vehicles moved closer and closer. Russ was uncertain the travelers could shoot the gap. "Are you sure on this, Balloon?"
"Ain't no thang. Ya got her," Balloon yelled in response.
Fast approaching what appeared to be a sure collision, Russ closed his eyes and screamed. Tom and Balloon instinctively joined his death yell, while Victory and Rita simply closed their eyes in terror.
"Nice move, Russell!" shouted Tom, the first to open his eyes, "and not a scratch on her or anything."
"Thanks, man, but we're not out of the woods yet," answered Russ, checking the rearview mirror. "They're coming up from behind."
"You get us through this, old boy. When we get back, we're using some of Balloon's genius cash to get you into Nascar. Do you know how to turn right though?"
"Not the time," came Russ' terse response.
More rocket blasts riddled the surrounding terrain. The travelers then heard a missile whine past the top of the Coupe. It landed 15 yards in front of them, opening up a wide crater in the turf road. Russ immediately swerved the Cadillac to the left, the passenger side tires missing the gaping hole by inches.
"Okay, we gotta get out of this. Eventually we're going to get hit by one of those things. Balloon!" yelled Russ, "tell me which way to go so we can get back to the single-wide without getting blown up."
Balloon sent the question to the unknown and processed the response. "Them tanks they got er whatever they is go real fast straightaways but ain't so good at turnin'. Take yer next left up on ahead 'n I's gonna tell y'all where to turn from then on out so as we done git lost."
"What kind of screwed up galaxy is this," laughed Tom, "where a 1973 Cadillac Eldorado Coupe corners better than the war machines of an advanced alien race?" As he spoke, he looked at Rita's face, which was only a few inches from his. She scowled at him with contempt.
"Here we go," said Russ, hitting the left turn at the fastest possible speed.
"How much longer until we make it back to the single-wide?" asked Victory, rocking back and forth as the Coupe cornered the turn.
"We got 'bout 10 minutes er so takin' this route," came Balloon's automatic response.
"What's my next turn?" asked Russ, a little calmer now that there was some space between them and their would-be captors.
"Not this left, but the next one yonder," answered Balloon. As he spoke, a few rocket blasts sounded, some behind and a few off to the right.
"Well, their aim isn't as good from a distance," said Tom. "That's a good thing. Not as exciting, but still good."