by T. R. Harris
I knew Bill was approaching from behind but I wasn’t worried. He wasn’t a threat; however, my acute senses had also spotted the fat slob Jonk Limbor wending his way through the crowd in my direction. I shook my head, knowing that as much as I dreaded the inevitable conversation I had to have with Bill, having to deal with both him and Jonk in the same morning just wasn’t fair. Especially on a morning that had started off so well.
“Good morning, Minister,” I said without turning around. “I’ve been expecting you.”
Bill stopped suddenly and blinked several times. “My Captain, my Captain, is it that you now have eyes in the back of your head?” The voice was friendly and jovial. “Even so, it is fortunate that I spotted you. I have been meaning to make contact, either here or at your dwelling. Are you here today to meet new arrivals?”
Now I turned to face the tall alien. “That’s right; the Wilson family.”
“Are they destined to become our new neighbors?”
“Possibly, but you can never know about these things.”
A few years back I sold Bill his home in the Zanzibar community of Highland Estates, and even though we lived in the same Enclave, we could hardly be called neighbors. Bill’s home was easily three miles from mine, yet because of our past business association – as well as the fact that he played on my softball team – the Transit Minister felt a kinship to me that bordered on, well, creepy. I knew he meant well, and he was a very well-placed and powerful official within the local government. So I would indulge him, for that reason, and a couple more.
First, his frequent referrals often resulted in even more deals coming my way, and in my line of work it was always important to cultivate lasting – and profitable – relationships.
And second: Bill was a friend – creepy, smelly and quirky – but still a friend.
“How are you feeling?” I asked with genuine concern, yet not for the reason the Minister would take away from the question.
“I am completely healed and cleared for action, my Captain. And after so long without playing, I am quite anxious to take the field again with you and the rest of the team.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” I said, even though I wasn’t. “But I have to tell you, I moved Mike to second base after your accident. He’ll be pretty upset if I have to move him again.”
A look of panic came over Bill’s green-tinted face. “But I so look forward to the contests, Jason. If I cannot play at second base, then where can I play?”
For the past two weeks I had agonized over that very question, ever since Bill had taken a ball to the forehead and lay unconscious on the field for a full ten minutes. Granted, the ball had taken a wicked hop, one which would have flown harmless over the head of any normal second baseman. But with Bill’s reverse leg joints, the alien was able to jump ten feet straight up when startled – like when a softball was headed his way. So Bill had jumped into the ball, making the accident entirely his fault.
I used the injury as an excuse to sit him for the rest of the game, while also requiring a doctor’s clearance before allowing him to return to the team, sighting insurance concerns.
By the way, we won that game, as well as the two after that.
I know what you’re saying: What’s someone like that doing on a softball team in the first place? Well, it’s complicated.
To begin with, as a resident of the Zanzibar Enclave, Bill was naturally aware of the various sports teams I’d organized for the subdivision. His Zorphin race was native to the planet Sylox, yet they didn’t have any sports of their own to speak of. So soon after moving in, Bill began to badger me about letting him join the team. Eventually I gave in. Looking back on that decision now, it was a mistake. Yet letting him play did help with Human-Alien relations, and it also went a long way to enhancing my cred with the native population, as well as supplementing my bank account.
But now he was returning to the team and I had to find a place for him to play, and somewhere he’d do the least damage.
“What about catcher, splitting duties with N’xo? I know you won’t get as much field time, but I could compensate by moving you up in the batting order. Will that work for you?”
I was relieved when his knobby-skinned face lit up with joy. “I would welcome that greatly! You know how much I enjoy the thrill of batting, and I must say I feel I am quite competent at the endeavor.”
The alien had a point. Measuring in at just under seven-feet-tall, and with triple-jointed arms to go along with his reverse-jointed knees, Bill could indeed hit – just as long as the slow-pitched softball didn’t come directly at his head!
I breathed a sigh of relief, even though I could still envision both him and N’xo taking turns bumbling around the backstop like a pair of Keystone Cops trying to recover a ball. Yet there were only so many positions where I could play the four aliens on the team – and if two of the four could take turns at catching, then my problem was solved.
The other two aliens were ringers of the first-degree, products of various evolutionary processes that made them world-class players, no matter what world you were on. I had to play them!
“Very good, my friend, then I’ll see you in two days. It will be good to have you back on the team—”
“Billork, you are a disgrace to your race!”
I had watched the rotund Jonk Limbor approach through the crowd, flanked by his two Rulian bodyguards. To his credit, Bill had noticed him, too. Now the hulking Zorphin leaned over the much shorter alien, appearing even taller and more threatening. “Caution, Mon Limbor, I do not take well to insults.”
The Historken wasn’t intimidated. “It was not an insult, but rather an observation.”
Jonk’s voice was gravelly and hard to follow, unless one had experience with his kind. Unfortunately, I’d had plenty.
Jonk was an arrogant bastard who had been a thorn in my side for years now. He was part of a group of building contractors who fought every petition the Humans brought before the regulatory and licensing boards on Sylox. Luckily, they were held in check by a thin coalition of Human supporters I had helped form several years ago. As a result, Jonk held me personally responsible for every setback his group suffered, even though I had been out of that side of the business for over five years.
Even though we had less contact these days, I still enjoyed pushing the alien’s many buttons and watching his fat face glow red when upset. You could actual feel heat radiating out to a couple of feet from his face when this happened. It was really something to experience.
His two bodyguards were standing off a few paces from us, watching me, not Bill. I was aware of the abilities of the Rulian, so I didn’t fear them. How they felt towards me was prominently displayed on their fat, grey faces.
Jonk was continuing to dig the hole even deeper with the transit minister. “It is well-known that your race has begun to suckle from the teat of the Humans. Even you, Billork, have adopted their housing and athletic activities. You should be aware, others are beginning to talk.”
“By others you refer to those within your minority cabal in the Assembly – the Linoreans,” Bill said. “It is obvious why your group would hold such distain for the Humans; they have taken much of your profits for themselves. Yet do not fault them for producing a superior product—”
“Superior product?” Jonk cried out. He began to choke, horking up green spittle in the process. This went on for several seconds until he finally recovered, only moments before his guards stepped in to help. “They build ugly boxes – above the surface – and creatures like you buy them. That is not the way of your people, or of many other species serving the Capital. It is bad enough that the Human plague has spread beyond the incorporated limits, yet your support is only helping to keep their malignancy alive.”
“Your constructs are dark and damp,” Bill said. “I – along with many others – now prefer to be on the surface, with space to roam as we take in the vastness of the open sky.”
“But your spe
cies have always been subsurface dwellers.”
“That was a necessity from our ancient past. Now we are safe above ground and have been for a thousand years, and yet still you insist we stay cloistered underground and not free ourselves to a more open lifestyle.”
“Disgusting, Bill—”
“That is Minister Billork, Mon Limbor. I would ask that you respect my position, if not my lifestyle.”
“So be it, Minister. But you must know that the time of the Humans is drawing to a close.”
This is the point where I would normally have entered the fray, teasing Jonk with some strategically-placed insults of my own. But Bill was doing such a fine job of raising Jonk’s blood-pressure that I let it ride. Besides, I still had twenty minutes before the Wilson’s shuttle arrived and it was fun watching the two aliens go at it.
“You speak of legislation your group is pushing through the Assembly; you must know that it will not pass. A moratorium on Human building in and around the Capital is uncalled for and has very little support.”
“You may be correct, Minister. It may not pass this Assembly, yet what it will do is reveal to us those who we must oppose and replace in the coming elections. We may not prevail at this time, yet we will in the near future. In fact, I am now in possession of a very interesting document which may change the minds of the Assembly and of the Council, and thereby accelerate that eventual result.”
“You are playing games, Mon Limbor, grasping for anything to disgrace the Humans. Your efforts are transparent and juvenile.”
Limbor smiled, a crooked, quivering movement of his too-small mouth. “We shall see, but this document pertains to the Simorean Crisis.”
Bill shook his head and frowned. “You have now confused me thoroughly, as well as destroyed what little remained of your credibility. How can an event that occurred over two hundred standard years ago affect the Member’s view of the Humans and their building activities? They have only been members of the Union for a little over ten years.”
“For the answer to that question you will have to wait, Minister Billork. Yet from your position within the Assembly, it will not be long, and then we shall see how long the Humans stay in favor with the Council.”
“Such dramatics will not be received favorably in the halls of government; it will only make you look more desperate.”
The reddish glow of Limbor’s face was growing even deeper and I could already feel the air temperature rise a little in his direction. “My patience with you is at an end, Minister Billork. Your refusal to accept reality is beyond reason.”
When Jonk turned his squinty eyes on me I smiled and said, “Jonk, you seem to be particularly – what word should I use – intense this morning. I hope that translates accurately. Did your mate reject you last night? If so, then I can’t blame her. I’m sure even Historken females have their standards.”
I knew that using his common name without the Mon prefix would raise the alien’s ire a little more, especially coming from such a low-life primitive as a Human. In addition, there were certain boundaries that were not to be crossed between species, and one of them had to do with sex. However, the way I looked at it, I hadn’t been consulted when the boundaries were set, so I didn’t think they applied to me, and especially not when it came to dealing with this obnoxious ball of obesity.
“Your insults do translate, almost to the point where I declare Priority and release my guards upon you. There is only so much I can take from you, Mr. King.”
I smiled and looked at his guards. To their credit they now looked nervous, obviously having done their research, even if Jonk hadn’t. I wasn’t really concerned. Jonk wouldn’t start a fight right here in the middle of the transit platform. Instead, our verbal battle continued.
“I only get intense when I see a long-term member of the Union consorting with upstarts such you Humans.”
“Your problem is not with me, Jonk, but with the developers,” I said. “I’m just a real estate broker now. I sell the homes; I don’t build them anymore. And I’ve even managed to sell a few of your underground mud pits. But I have to say, the Minister is correct; they are dank and depressing, and I question the sanity of any being that would prefer living underground to being on the surface. The surface is where all the action is.”
I knew Jonk lived underground.
“You try to downplay your status here on Sylox, Jason King, yet everyone knows you are one of the most well-connected and influential Humans on the planet. Your activities and opinions can impact not only other Humans, but also many on the Council. And with your help and encouragement, your savage race has spread out across the pristine surface of Sylox with your massive hives, taking up valuable surface land. My abodes do not disturb the peace and natural beauty of the surface. We live underground so that we may better preserve what is above us.”
“That may be true, but I still prefer wide open spaces, and I can’t help it if even some on the Council prefer our buildings to your burrows. Besides, there’s plenty of room to build here on Sylox and still preserve the natural landscape. And if that’s not enough, the damn Union consists of over forty-five hundred worlds, so I don’t think space is a problem.”
“Not now, yet your kind have only been members of the Union for a short time. Give it another hundred years and then see if there is still room enough on Sylox – or anywhere else – if your race has its way. The signs are obvious; the Humans are a disaster to the continued harmony of the Union, and have been since your questionable admission.”
“You have to remember, Jonk, the Union came to us, not the other way around.”
“That was a mistake!” Even from five feet away, Jonk’s breath could still peel paint. “Your race has no redeeming value and offers nothing to the Union.”
“What about our charming personalities?”
Jonk bristled. I was glad the translators had begun to incorporate more Human slang and nuance into the language synthesizers. It sure helped to make snide remarks that much more effective – and entertaining.
“Retain your flippant comments for now, Jason King, but soon your kind will learn its place on the ladder of galactic races. And that place is on the lowest rung, to remain there until you have paid your dues with time and contribution to the common good.”
“Yeah, but I feel just brightening your day must be a plus in my column.” I took a perfunctorily look at my watch. “Unfortunately, Jonk, I have to go now, to meet another family of primitive Human savages and help them take even more credits out of your pockets and those of your partners. But we really must do this again, soon.”
Jonk snorted, cast one last vicious glare at Bill, and then stormed off into the crowd, followed closely by his towering bodyguards.
After he was gone, I met Bill’s yellow eyes; we held the gaze for a moment … before we both burst out laughing. I have to tell you, if there’s anything I like more than taunting Jonk Limbor, it’s an alien with a sense of humor.
So despite being such a lousy softball player, Transit Minister Billork Kly Gon-Mok was okay in my book – at least for an alien.
Chapter 3
A few minutes later, Bill and I watched as the passengers from the Day-8 shuttle began to flood the landing platform. I glanced at the datapad in my left hand and pulled up the image of Jennifer Wilson. In the sea of creatures leaving the spacecraft, two Human females, along with three children, shouldn’t be too hard to spot.
“Do you see your new clients?” Bill asked.
“Not yet, but they’ll be along. So tell me about this Simorean Crisis. I’ve been here for a number of years and I’ve never heard of it.”
“It happened two hundred sixteen years ago, and was a constitutional crisis that nearly destroyed the Union.”
“No shit? What happened?”
“As you know, the Amelians formed the Galactic Union over a thousand years ago, and throughout most of that time, they dominated the command and control of the organization from the capital on A
melia. However, a few hundred years ago, the other Members began to exert more influence, and eventually gained control of the Council. That is when the capital was moved from Amelia to Sylox, as a means of establishing a more neutral location for all Members.
“Shortly after that, a proposal was brought before the governing chambers which the Amelians insisted should be approved. The Simoreans created an opposing voting bloc within the Assembly and the Council that resisted approval, and having only recently acquired their new power, the majority of representatives were not about to abdicate it back to the Amelians so easily. A standoff resulted, one which threatened to destroy the entire Union.”
“The Union’s still here, so I assume someone had to blink – to give in.”
“Yes, and it was the Amelians. Through their mature wisdom, they realized that the opposition was firm in their resolve and would destroy the Union before they acquiesced. And so to save the Union the Amelians blinked – as you say – and since that time they have been more subtle in their manipulations of the Council and of others.”
“What was this proposal that caused all the problems?”
“That has never been fully disclosed. In the end, it mattered not, for it was the dynamic between the two opposing forces – that of the old and the new within the Union – that was important. If it had not been that particular issue it would have been another. The important lesson from the Crisis is that the Union survived, and became more diverse in its distribution of power than before the event.”
“So how are the Humans involved in something that happened centuries ago, while we were still riding horses and reading by gas lamps?”
“Do not give any credence to what Limbor says, Jason. He was just attempting to create a rift between us.” Bill smiled and placed a huge hand on my shoulder. “Which is something that could never happen, my Captain.”
I smiled up at the huge, green alien. Oh, great, when will his infatuation with me ever end? The word bestiality came to mind, which only served to make me feel even more uncomfortable.
