by C M Dancha
Morg looked in the Earthling’s eyes and watched his physical movements to detect whether the Earthling was lying or not. He didn’t pick up on any physical indicators, but the Earthling’s voice fluctuations gave a hint of deceit.
The Earthling knew he was being scrutinized so he made a superhuman effort to keep his eyes straight ahead and not turn his body away from the Yandan. He knew all the tricks in the book Morg was using to detect dishonest answers. The worst thing he could do, was turn away and give Morg a reason to believe he was trying to run away from stressful questions.
“Why didn’t you try to put the fire out?”
“I didn’t have anything plus I thought the Kalon system would go off.” The Earthling took another pause to look like he was thinking about something important. He added with a half-smile, “I guess I could have taken off my dress and tried to beat the fire out."
Morg looked quizzically at him. He didn't understand human sarcasm.
"Sorry, I didn’t mean to make light of the situation. Can you fix the communications sub-panel?”
Morg sluffed off the kid’s remark about beating out the fire with his dress. He thought, “How strange the Earthling would ask about the communications sub-panel when it hadn’t been mentioned. How did the kid know it was inoperable?” There was no sense calling him out on this because the Earthling was too smart to get tripped up on a minor detail. He was now convinced the kid was holding back something. His story might not be a total lie, but it was at least a collection of half-truths.
Morg yapped on and on about the condition of the communications sub-panel and what it meant to their survival. The kid took this time to wonder if his cock-and-bull story was convincing. It would have to do because there was no way he was going to tell the Yandan about arcing the circuits in the sub-panel to start the fire. If the Yandan ever discovered that, he would flip out and beat him relentlessly to find out why. The last thing he wanted to do was tell Morg about the top-secret, crypto message received from the Trifect commanding them to return to Yanda. That would lead to the revelation he was fluent in Yandish as well as every other alien language he encountered. His ability to learn alien languages allowed him to read the Trifect’s crypto message and respond with, “Message received, acknowledged; returning to Yanda. Signed, Officer Morg”. Nothing was going to stop his voyage to Earth. If that meant he had to destroy the communications sub-panel, lie to Morg and the Trifect, and kill a few beings along the way, that’s what he would do.
“Earthling, snap out of it. Did you hear what I asked?”
“Huh, what did you say, Morg?” The alien’s words finally broke through the Earthling’s daydreaming about the evil he created since leaving Yanda. He would postpone savoring the fond memories of outfoxing and killing the three Athlon mercenaries until later.
“I said, what’s with the women’s clothes?”
“Oh, that. I went to a party on Feltte Six where everyone dressed like the opposite sex. For me, it was easy. But, for some of the guests it was comical. Especially, the beings who are both sexes. Pretty damn funny, if you know what I mean.” The Earthling ended with a light chuckle.
The Earthling’s explanation was so spontaneous and said with such conviction Morg believed every word. Morg realized that anything the kid said about his sexual fantasies and deviant behavior was absolutely true. However bizarre or ridiculous, it didn’t seem to matter to the kid. He was proud of parading around in female clothes, attending cross-dressing parties and paying for deviant sex act like a foot-fetish.
Thinking about the Earthling’s odd sexual behavior sent a chill through Morg’s endo-nerve system. He knew such behavior existed, but this was the first being he ever met who enjoyed discussing it. He wondered if all Earthlings were this weird.
“Why didn’t you change out of the women’s clothes after the party?”
“I don’t know. I kinda liked the way the clothes fit, and they made me feel sexy.”
The Earthling didn’t like how this conversation was trending. This was another lie. He actually hated wearing the tight-fitting skirt and looking like a penguin as he tried to maneuver in high-heels. But, Morg mustn’t find out the truth. He kept the women’s clothes on after the party, so he could slip onto the transport without raising suspicion. The Feltte Six authorities had his entry picture and were looking for a thin, six-foot two-inch male with blonde hair. They gave little attention to the redhead, female Earthling who was slim as a rail and slightly attractive in makeup.
With every lie he told the alien, there was more chance of tripping over himself before reaching Earth. He needed to get the Yandan focused on something else, and quick. He came up with a conniving and manipulative idea as Morg began to ask his next question.
“Officer Morg. Before you ask another question, I have to be honest and tell you the other reason I kept on the women’s clothes.” The Earthling looked down modestly, batted his eyelids which still had long lashes, and said, “I thought you might like to see me in women’s clothes.”
The Earthling’s ruby red lips formed a sensuous smile as Morg leaped from the gyro chair and ran from the rest area. The kid wondered if the auto-record system captured Morg’s facial expression before he fled. He hoped so. This would be as much fun watching on replay as the Crelons crapping non-stop on themselves and their ship.
6
“Where the hell is my son?” This was the third time Conway asked, and he was tired of getting the run-around.
“We think he’s somewhere near Feltte Six, Prefect Conway. From the reports we’ve received, his transport left Feltte Six about five hours ago.”
“Where the hell is Feltte Six?”
“It’s one of our protectorate planets about three light years from Yanda.”
“So, you think he’s somewhere close to Feltte Six? Is he there or not?”
“The Trifect member sitting in the middle, power position at the conference table responded. “We have no reason to believe he isn’t at this position, Prefect Conway.” The Lead Trifect knew he made a mistake as soon as the words left his mouth. The double-negative response made him sound like a lame-brain politician who was trying to peddle an outrageous lie.
The Earthling’s father looked in disbelief at the three-member Trifect panel. The first thought that raced through his mind was, “These guys control most of the known universe and we’re going into business with them? Are you kidding? They’re nitwits.” There was a part of him that wanted to pull out of the trade pact with the Yandans right then and there. He held himself in check, knowing such a premature move would spoil his plans and put his son in danger. He needed to play along with these incompetent oafs a while longer; at least until his son touched down on Earth.
“Let me see if I have this right.” Conway paused to collect his thoughts and form a strategy for his next line of questioning. He loved this type of confrontational arguing. It reminded him of his days on the debate team at the university. “If you have his location correct, my son is still seven light years from Earth. Is that correct?”
The three members of the Yandan Trifect quaked as they passed non-verbal signals back and forth to each other under the conference table. Lucky for them, Prefect Conway could not see their hand and feet signals on the visualizer1 screen. He could only see from their green and orange abdomens up. They were petrified that the kid’s old man would find out they ordered the transport back to Yanda. If he discovered this screwup, the trade pact between the two planets would very likely be terminated or put on indefinite hold.
Again, the member of the Trifect sitting in the power position responded. “Yes, that’s correct.” He hung his head sheepishly knowing what was next from Conway. He looked at the visualizer screen and saw that the kid’s father was ready to explode. Even on the visualizer which muted colors, he could tell that Conway’s face was as red as an Orkaet Sweat Beast.
Conway lifted out of his chair and screamed, “Are you kidding me? He’s due here in three weeks. No
w, one of you tell me how he is going to cover seven light years in three weeks.”
When none of the Trifect offered an answer, old man Conway exploded again. “You Yandans are pathetic. I think our Global Union Assembly needs to re-examine the proposed Carbon and Sulfur Emissions Trade Agreement (CASETA) you want us to sign."
That threat reached out and grabbed each Trifect member by his reproduction glands. They started to squirm and talk at once. The Lead Trifect won out and began to babble an official response. He was hoping against hope to stifle the Prefect’s threat to back out of the trade agreement.
“Prefect Conway. There’s no reason to re-evaluate the CASETA trade pact between our two great planets. We’ve made such meaningful progress in a very short period of time. It would be a shame to negate all the work our envoys have already accomplished. I understand your concern for your son but, rest assured, he’s in the hands of our most trusted military officer. His name is Officer Morg and I can guarantee you that he will keep your son safe and sound. As soon as….”
Conway cut off the Lead Trifect’s endless rambling. It was nothing more than the same feel-good, sales pitch he used a thousand times during negotiations. “He’d better be safe and sound, Trifect.”
“You have our assurance, Prefect Conway, that your son, ah, ah, … your son is safe and …”
The Trifect spokesman had made two blunders. He couldn’t remember the name of Conway’s son and he walked into Conway’s trap. The Mentat,2 standing out of sight, signaled Conway that the Yandans were either lying or withholding information. Conway gave him a slight nod to confirm what he already suspected.
“Good! If you guarantee my son’s safety, then let’s contact him right now. Signal the transport he’s on and get him on a three-way communication.”
The Trifect found themselves in a corner. No matter what Conway said, they couldn’t allow his son or Officer Morg to appear on a three-way communication. If they did, it was inevitable the kid or Morg would spill the beans about being ordered back to Yanda.
“Sir, we can’t do that. Your son’s ship is on a communication lockdown. It's the only way we could ensure his safety during the flight. If an enemy intercepted a communication, they could either destroy the transport or hijack it and hold your son for ransom.”
“Gentlemen, you will have my son contact me within forty-eight hours. I don’t care how you do it, just do it. If I don’t hear from him, then our trade pact is canceled.” Conway watched each Yandan’s scaly face turn grim with disappointment. He pushed the disconnect button on the communications panel, leaned back in his chair and laughed hysterically. When he caught his breath, he looked over at the Mentat and asked, “Well, how did I do? Was I convincing?”
The Mentat, who was trained to be an objective reader of minds and emotions, gave his boss, Prefect Conway, a slight grin and thought, “What a jerk. No wonder this man and his son are hated.”
Ten light years away, the three members of the Trifect were scrambling, trying to figure out how to salvage the CASETA Agreement and meet Conway's demand to talk with his son. They sat at the conference table playing with drinking cups, peeling labels from Brofult containers, and mumbling to themselves. Each member was lost in deep thought. They sought a solution which satisfied Conway and the Feltte Six authorities. And, it couldn't jeopardize the agreement to buy toxic natural resources from Earth.
The Lead Trifect got up from the conference table and walked over to the Cannis dispenser. He was hoping several snorts from the dispenser would take the edge off the serious task at hand. Perhaps a drug-induced, mellow state of mind would lead to a simple solution which solved all their problems.
This time the Cannis didn’t work.
“Brothers, I don’t think there is one solution that fixes everything. In fact, I can’t come up with a good lie that solves everything.”
“So, what do we do.”
The Lead Trifect took one last snort from the dispenser and walked back to the conference table. “Here’s the way I see it. Yanda is in dire need of another dependable source of sulfuric acids and carbon dioxide toxins. We need those chemicals to add to our atmosphere, so all Yandans can remain healthy. That makes signing the CASETA Agreement the most important thing. It far outweighs every other consideration.” The Lead Trifect paused long enough to make sure his two brothers on the military panel understood his assessment.
“There are two ways to get these chemicals. We can sign the CASETA Agreement with Earth or invade their planet and take the chemicals. Brothers, we can’t afford to fight another conflict now. We’re involved now in three wars and we simply don’t have the soldiers, equipment, supplies or money to go to war with Earth. The bottom line is that we have to get the CASETA Agreement signed as quickly as possible.”
“I agree, Sir, but how do we handle the Feltte Six authorities? They want Conway’s son taken into custody and charged with the crimes he committed on their planet. Yet, Conway demands his son be delivered to Earth posthaste.”
“We buy off the Feltte Six authorities. We pay them for the five Interceptors and flight crews they lost. Plus, we kick in some punitive damage payments for other incidentals which are pissing them off. That's all; we call it a day. It will cost a lot but it’s a hell of a lot cheaper than invading Earth.”
The other two members of the Trifect nodded their heads as they processed the proposed solution.
“Sir, do you think they’ll go for a deal like that?”
“Are you kidding, brother? Their planet’s economy is based on crime. The place is infested with every type of vice and perversion known in the universe. Taking bribes and payola is a way of life on Feltte Six. Everyone is a crook, including the planet’s ruling council.”
The Lead Trifect waited to see if there was any opposition or further discussion needed on his proposal. When none came, he began to dish out assignments.
“Okay, I want you two to signal the transport and establish a communications line with Morg. Use the crypto band to communicate so he knows it’s an emergency and has to answer. Come and get me when you’ve reached him. If he sees all three of us, he’ll know for sure his new orders are legitimate.”
“Sir, if we can’t find you when we establish the connection, can we go ahead and give him the new order?”
The Lead Trifect considered the pros and cons of the question before answering. “I would rather you find me, but if you have no choice, go ahead.”
“Sir, we want to get this right, so tell us precisely what we can tell Morg.”
“First, Officer Morg is to disregard the directive to return to Yanda. He is to reprogram the flight simulators to proceed to the original destination of Earth. Also, Officer Morg is to push his shadow drive system to the max. He is not authorized to make any more stops anywhere. I don’t care what emergency or excuse he has, no more stops. He must cover over seven light years in three weeks which we know is impossible. Bottom line is that he has to do the impossible for the security and safety of his home planet, Yanda.”
“Sir, we will carry out your orders. Will you be staying on Yanda or visiting the war zones?”
“I’ll be in my office, brothers. I need to figure out a way to buy off the Feltte Six governors without giving away the entire wealth of Yanda.
* * *
Jimmy Washington slumped over in his chair gasping for air and trying to stay conscious. In some remote recesses of his mind, he could hear a familiar female voice screaming.
“Why don’t you leave him alone? Can’t you see that he can’t take any more? He’s told you everything he knows.”
“Hey, shut up wench unless you want some of this.” The largest of the four Feltte Six, uniformed enforcers wound up and delivered a round-house fist to Jimmy’s jaw. The force sent him and his chair across the room.
Jimmy’s lady screamed and ran to his side. She cradled his bleeding head in her lap to protect him from more torture and see if he still had a pulse.
“He’s six
ty-two years old, for god’s sake. You’re going to kill him. Please stop.”
“He should have thought about that before he helped two criminals escape.”
“Jimmy has never broken any laws.” With snot dripping from her nose and tears pouring down her cheeks, she forced out through clenched teeth, “Check your files, he’s got a perfect record. He’s been a loyal Sixer.”
“Missy, don’t you dare refer to this traitor as a Sixer. That term is reserved for born-and-bred Feltte Six nationals who are true patriots, like us.”
The four enforcers stood slightly straighter, showing off their badges and medals for bravery and heroism.
“Well, aren’t you shining examples of Feltte Six bravery and morality. It takes real guts to beat up and torture an old man. I hope you poor excuses for Sixers …”
That’s as far as Jimmy’s young girlfriend got before the enforcers had enough of her sassy back-talk. One of them picked her off the floor by the hair and dragged her into the adjacent bedroom to have his way with her. It took two hours before the four enforcers were satisfied. They finally left Jimmy’s house when she gave them the Cannis capsule Jimmy got from Morg. Without this payola, she was sure they would kill her and Jimmy.
* * *
“Sir, you better come down to the communications chamber.”
“Have you made contact with Officer Morg?”
“No, sir.”
“Then, what’s the problem?”
“The transport is…. has vanished.”
“What? I’ll be right there.”
The Lead Trifect left his office and waddled through the palace hallways to the communications chamber. Yandan were not known for being fleet of foot. Their eight-toed feet with sharp spurs protruding from each heel prevented a full stride. Otherwise, their legs were perfect for running. Large, muscular thighs plus long and tight calves were an ideal combination for speed. The only way a Yandan could take advantage of his well-developed legs for running was to have the spurs surgically removed. The trade-off was that he wouldn't have them to use in hand-to-hand combat. Also, they grew back in six months, requiring another costly surgery.
