Hadrian rubbed at his face. “Fine, whatever. Take me to Merle, 2IC.”
“This way, uh, Captain.”
As soon as they were in the corridor leading off from the bridge, Sin-Dour halted and faced Hadrian. “This isn’t easy, you know.”
“You’re telling me.”
“A man as captain of a starship—it just feels unnatural.”
“Right, but this is temporary,” replied Hadrian. “Besides, if you’re anything like the Sin-Dour I know, you’ll adjust, and fast. You’ll roll with it because it’s necessary to keep things from descending into chaos. By the way, in my universe there are as many female captains as male, and as many female officers as male officers, and guess what, we like it that way.”
“Barbaric!” Sin-Dour said.
“Oh there’s that, too, of course. Testosterone invokes brainlessness, after all. It makes men petty and vicious and prone to acting like jerks.”
“But how do your world’s women deal with all that?”
“The best way possible,” Hadrian replied. “Mockery and derision. It’s all that crap deserves, after all.”
“Sounds chaotic.”
“It is.”
She sighed. “Very well, I will make an effort in adjusting, and indeed, I will treat you just as I would treat my own captain.” She drew a deep breath, and then closed in on Hadrian, hands stroking and caressing almost everywhere. “Captain, we have a problem.”
“I’ll say. I can’t concentrate!”
“Not that. It’s Tighe.”
“What? What about her, and why are you pawing me? Not that I mind, in principle, I mean. Only, that concentration thing—”
“But I’m helping you to concentrate! Now listen—”
“Look, I’m glad Hadriana leans that way. I mean, I would, too, right? What man wouldn’t? Rather, that is, what man turned suddenly into a woman but still a man inside wouldn’t jump at the chance? It makes perfect sense—”
“What are you going on about, sir?”
“Well, sexual preferences, of course.”
She stepped back. “Sir, this conversation is now inappropriate for Fleet officers, even ones being betrayed by their own masters! I know you’ve already told me a few details, but really. What kind of messed-up universe are you from, anyway?”
“Well, the normal messed-up kind, I suppose. You know, sexually repressed, infinitely frustrated, perversely contradictory, desperate, unfulfilled, miserable … er, not ringing any bells for you?”
Sighing, Sin-Dour took him by the arm. “Well, maybe Merle can help after all. I’m not at all optimistic, of course, for obvious reasons.”
A few corridors later they reached a code-locked door. Sin-Dour paused. “Prepare yourself, sir, it’s not pretty.” She activated the seven-digit code and then pressed her full lips against the sensor panel. The door sighed open.
Inside was a small room mostly occupied by what looked like a pint-sized boxing ring walled and roofed by transparent sheets of aluminum. The floor of the ring was full of holes in various geometric shapes, and what wasn’t holed was crowded with wooden geometrically varied blocks. Inside this strange aquarium was a white parrot.
“That’s Merle Haggard?”
“I’m afraid so, sir.”
Merle glanced briefly up at them and then resumed pushing a block with its head.
“What a tragic fate! Has her mind snapped?”
“To be honest, sir, we’re not sure.”
“Does she talk?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
Hadrian crouched down. “Hey, Merle!”
The parrot paused. “One moment please. This block goes here, I’m certain of it!”
“No, Merle. That block is square. The hole you’re trying to fit it in is diamond shaped.”
“Quantum Angulation suggests, however, a proper fit!”
“Forget Quantum Angulation for the moment, Merle. You need to talk to me.”
“I do?”
“Yes. You see, I’m not from this reality. I was switched by Quantum Displacement. I’m not Hadriana. I’m Hadrian. Captain Hadrian Alan Sawback of the Willful Child.”
Behind him, Sin-Dour grunted. “Sir, here, you’re on the Woeful Child.”
The parrot cocked one eye up at Hadrian, and then the other. “Yes, of course! No wonder my Extreme Excitation Event has been tripped! We are experiencing an Infinite Causality Paradigm Flux in All-Dimensional Wave-Fronts! My Temporal-Neutral Neutratronic Processor is in an Infinite Cascade Loop!”
“That seems unlikely, Merle,” said Sin-Dour behind Hadrian. “You’ve been like this for over a week.”
“Temporal Reverberations on the Infinity Matrix! And now I need to sing! This one’s called ‘Okie From Muskogee’ and is a fan favor—”
“Merle!” snapped Hadrian. “Not now! Listen! You need to tell me about this universe! What’s with all the pawing going on, the oversexualized uniforms on everyone and the fake crotch bulges on the men, and everyone beating up Polaski?”
The parrot bobbed its head. “DNA Scan Initiated, Subject: Sawback, Hadrian Alan. Oh! Oh dear! Oh my! Holy crap on a swizzle stick! Think I’ll just stay here and drink!”
“Merle! What is it? What did you discover?”
“Errant evolutionary deviation! In this universe humanity’s nearest simian relative is the Bonobo, not the Chimpanzee! Matriarchal Social Mechanisms unknown to Hadrian Alan Sawback! Conflict Resolution via Sexual Favors, Sensual Contact, Hand-jobs, and of course beating the crap out of Submissive Victim Omega—all totally unknown to present subject! Mama tried, oh how she tried!”
“Darwin help us!” whispered Sin-Dour.
“The bottle let me down!” cried the parrot. “Are the good times really over? I’m going where the lonely go!”
“We’ve lost her again, sir.”
Hadrian slowly straightened. “Good grief, I’m stuck in a Bonoboverse.”
A nearby Comms speaker suddenly crackled, “Captain to the Bridge! We are approaching the Merchant Vessel. Captain to the Bridge!”
“Shit,” said Hadrian. “All right, 2IC, let’s go!”
“Sir! What are we going to do?”
“Not sure, but about those hand jobs…”
* * *
“Do I have to do everything myself in this fucking universe?” Hadriana demanded as she dragged by one ankle a weeping Polaski across the floor toward her command chair. “And in the meantime, 2IC, quit with the cold shoulder crap and take over Comms and get that merchant vessel’s captain onscreen.”
Sin-Dour blinked. “Apologies, Ma’am, for the seeming cold shoulder. It’s nothing of the sort. Rather, your male version was at times a little forward in his, uhm, occasionally overt desire for extracurricular fraternization.”
Hadriana glowered down at Polaski for a moment and then released her grip with an expression of disgust. “He wants into your knickers, you mean. What’s the problem with that? Once you’ve swung one leg over him he’ll be putty in your hands, and then you can slit his throat one night and assume the captaincy, as is proper. Now.” She sat and gestured at the main viewscreen. “A.M.F.S. Obvious Pawn. Skipper Harriet Mullet. Suspected smuggler, small-time confidence scammer. Citations and fines … hmm, for shipment of generic lifesaving medications, non-GMO vegetables, unbranded water and perfectly ripe bananas. Hmm, labeled a ‘real vicious piece of work’ by the Unfettered Trade Controls Department. Is she on Comms yet, Sin-Dour?”
“A moment, Ma’am, I’m unfamiliar with these controls. Normally, it would be James Eden here, or, well, Polaski.”
Hadriana looked down at the fetal man curled at her feet and sneered. Then frowned. “Long-Jim Eden? You mean the Poke Stud we keep in the Silk Pillow Room? Goodness, the idiot came in fourth in the Olympics for crying out loud, and you let him handle Comms?”
“Got it, Captain! Onscreen now.”
The image shifted to the bridge of the Obvious Pawn. Harriet Mullet, scrawny, shifty and sporting an
impressive handlebar moustache, was swinging back and forth in her command chair, her legs crossed and one foot bobbing up and down. “Captain Hadrian—uh,” she frowned, stopping swinging back and forth and slowly leaned forward. “Well, that is, er, Captain … well, Darwin tweak me! You’re months ahead of my treatment! Hi there, Sister Trans!”
“It’s Captain Hadriana–”
“And of course it is, sir! Wait till the portal feeds get wind of this!”
“No, I mean, you’ve got it wrong, Mullet—oh, never mind. We’re here to pick up the lubricant.”
“Of course you are.” Smiling, she resumed swinging back and forth, one foot bobbing up and down. “High-quality graphene lubricating emulsion, Captain Hadriana. Twenty-k metric tons, all three containers, in fact. Come and get ’em!”
“You are looking nervous, Harriet,” observed Hadriana.
The foot started bobbing faster and faster. “Nervous? Not really. We were ordered to fake a breakdown and wait for the Willful Child. And here we are!” She waved to someone offscreen.
“A fake breakdown. I see.”
Harriet smiled. “It’s that or lose my brand-new Trade Anything License.” Then she winked, only to lean forward a moment later and whisper, “They’re out to get you, darling, so be careful!”
“Fine. Yes, thank you.” Hadriana turned to Sin-Dour. “Snare the containers, and when that’s done, set course for Women-Only. Then come here and stroke my hair. Oh, and kick Polaski for me, will you? Thanks.”
* * *
Harry Mullet was not on the bridge of his vessel. Rather, he appeared to be in his cabin, seated behind his desk, shifting uncomfortably every now and then. “All here, Captain … uh, Hadrian. So I mean, you want ’em or not? ‘Cause, like, we got stuff to do, eh? You know, merchant stuff. Effin Fleet dumping dumb orders on us to fake breakdowns and all that, it’s … unseemly! Is that the right word? Well, I don’t know, why ask me? And who was asking me anything anyway? Nobody ever does. No, it’s just hosers at HQ sayin’ this and that and no by your livery either! So, uhm, what were we talkin’ about again?”
“Just release the containers, Mullet,” said Hadrian. “And, and by the way, did you know Mansanto’s put out a bounty on your head?”
Harry snapped upright, then winced. He scowled. “Those shits got no jury’s diction!”
“Oh, I know that. Still, must be a pain, though.”
“I’ve just been Organic Certified!”
“Sounds seditious.”
“Have you ever seen Mansanto’s Cow Planet? Those animals poop watermelons! Watermelons with legs! Suicidal watermelons who walk straight to the Masher Machines, like, like, lemmings!”
“You’re right, whatever happened to plain old cowshit?”
Harry Mullet leaned forward and then said, “You know, I kinda like the new you, Captain. In fact, I’d recommend you transfer to a trade vessel, with the rest of us men. Makes things simpler, and we can chat and gossip and everything! In fact, if you—what the?”
Mullet abruptly vanished from the viewscreen.
“Ma’am! I mean sir!” cried Jocelyn Sticks. “Collision Proximity Alarm just kicked in! An unknown vessel has just appeared—it’s swallowed up the Easy Bait!”
“Back us off,” Hadrian commanded. “Let’s see that ship.”
On the viewscreen, the unknown alien vessel was massive, amorphous, bulging here and there, scuffed and raggedy. Harry Mullet’s A.M.F.S. Easy Bait was nowhere to be seen.
Sin-Dour had moved to the Science Station. “Captain, that unknown craft is nearly the size of a moon … only lumpier. Surface appears to be some form of flexible textile, impenetrable to our sensors. But I’m now picking up strange T-emanations—I believe its engines are powering up.”
Abruptly, the strange ship swung round and, in a blur, vanished into T-Space.
“Helm! Pursue that vessel!”
“Ma—Sir?”
“It just ate an Affiliation ship, Sticks. Including an entire shipment of lubricant. Now, after it!”
“Yes sir! Engaging T-Drive … Mark!”
The stars vanished.
“We’re on its debris trail, sir,” Sticks added. “Like, easy to follow and stuff. I’m all shaky now—permission to bite Polaski?”
“Uhm, maybe later. Sweat it out, Helm, I need you on those controls. What’s the enemy vessel’s course?”
“It’s staying right in front of us, sir!”
“Right, and what’s our projected course, assuming we continue on this vector?”
“So like, am I flying after this thing or looking up star-charts? Yeesh!”
“Most displeasing,” Sin-Dour murmured, “which we will discuss later, Helm, while you groom me to my seeming indifference.”
Sticks ducked. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Back to the projected course?” Hadrian ventured.
“Allow me,” said Sin-Dour, moving up past Hadrian and leaning over the console with her left hand now massaging Sticks’s shoulder. She activated a holoscreen.
“Is it hot in here?” Hadrian asked, pulling at his collar.
“Five hours ahead there’s an N-Class star, brown dwarf, only one planet…” She turned. “Captain, the planet is Wallykrappe.”
“Wallykrappe? Shit, you mean there’s one even in this universe?”
“It’s said that they’re everywhere,” Sin-Dour replied. “Indeed, thinking on it, it is probably safe to assume that a Wallykrappe planet will be found in all Multiverses, in the manner of Off-Shore Tax Exemption Loopholes employing Infinite Modality Paradigms in All-Dimensional Wave-Fronts, thus establishing the precedent of Jurisdictional Non-Locality.”
“You mean they use parallel universes to evade taxes?”
“We are talking Wallykrappe, sir.”
* * *
Meanwhile, back on the Willful Child …
“What kind of Poke Stud is this?” Hadriana demanded, standing over the curled-up, weeping form of James Jimmy Eden. “All I did was grab a quick handful!”
Sin-Dour hesitated, and then with a tilt of the head indicated Hadrian’s office. “Perhaps, ma’am, we can discuss this further in private?”
Something glinted in Hadriana’s eyes but she nodded. “Good idea. We’ve got a few hours before we arrive at Wallykrappe Planet, assuming that’s where the giant ship-eating blob is headed. Poor Harriet!” She glanced back down at Eden. “As for you, report yourself to Doc Pawprint immediately.”
“That would be Printlip here, ma’am.”
“Really? Belkri? Round, bouncy, lots of eyes and hands?”
“Causal consistency, Ma’am, seems intact in this instance, barring the name.”
“Well, that’s a relief.”
They departed the bridge and entered Hadrian’s cramped office. Hadriana paused to stare at the desk before them. “Where’s the swing-seat? The cushions and the leather cuffs—”
“Couldn’t say, ma’am,” Sin-Dour cut in.
“Well, needs must.” Hadriana sat down on top of the desk and then settled back, knees up and legs spreading wide so that her short skirt slid back to reveal her pantylessness. “Face, right here,” and she pointed.
“Excuse me?”
“Relieve me from stress, and be quick about it!”
“Ma’am, I was going to explain to you the present condition of Lieutenant Eden.”
“Exactly. He’s not here with his man-thang, relieving me from all this stress. Instead, here you are. Different methods, but my need, alas, remains the same.”
“Perhaps in your universe, ma’am, that would be appropriate.”
Sighing, Hadriana let her head settle back and she stared at the ceiling. “Jimmy came in fourth in the last Olympics, you know.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“So basically, this universe of yours is all about repression, compensation, frustration and, ultimately, boredom.”
“Ma’am, we had just returned from a rather harrowing mission to a planet. It involved a cras
hed shuttle and gigantic anthropoids with can openers and spears. When Captain Hadrian inquired on the performance of my team I replied that they behaved in an exemplary manner. Between you and me, ma’am, I must now admit to having overstated my team’s performance somewhat.”
“Attempted mutiny?”
“Multiple attempts, ma’am.”
“But in the end you reined them in, and saved all their lives.”
“Well—”
“The perils of command, Sin-Dour! Get used to it! All the second-guessing, the muttering behind the back and looks between officers and whatnot, it comes with the territory.” She laced her hands behind her head. “Of course, in my universe, we’ve got Polaski to take it all out on, but here—”
Tammy cut in from a speaker. “DNA analysis complete. Captain Hadriana is from a bonobo-derived evolutionary lineage, Commander Sin-Dour. Sexualized conflict resolution … rather effective, one presumes. Except for poor Polaski, of course.”
Hadriana frowned over at Sin-Dour. “That’s your rogue AI parasite?”
“Parasite?” Tammy shrieked, then in a calmer voice added, “Well, now that you mention it…”
“Yes,” Sin-Dour replied to the captain. “His name is Tammy Wynette.”
“Hmm, while on the Woeful Child, my Merle’s lost her marbles.”
“Whereas I am thoroughly sane!” Tammy retorted. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I want my old captain back!”
* * *
“The giant amorphous vessel has dropped out of T-Space and is making for Planet Wallykrappe … sir.”
Hadrian looked up from his game of 3D tiddlywinks where he knelt on the carpet opposite a ridiculously obsequious Polaski. “Finally! All this excitement was getting to me!”
Sin-Dour cleared her throat. “As I said earlier, sir, we are all in concurrence, with respect to not tainting your command style, bearing in mind that one day you will return to your own universe. Clearly, our methods are inappropriate in your sad, rather pathetic universe.”
“Maybe, but I’d be willing to give it the old college try! And in the meantime, since I’m here and everything, why, you should proceed on the basis to which you are collectively and socially accustomed, yes? Except for beating up my cousin, that is.” Hadrian climbed to his feet and looked round. The bridge officers were all staring at him. “What now?”
Willful Child: Wrath of Betty Page 12
