Lollipop

by David Fletcher

  'And they must see this. They must know that by breeding and breeding, they're slowly but surely destroying the place - and their own lives. That as well as buggering up the planet, they're also buggering up their own existence. But still they go on. They just go on adding to their number. And they'll continue to go on until the whole place is completely shot to pieces.

  'They're the only ones that do this, you know. It isn't a problem with the insectals or the amphibiads. Nor indeed with the noble reptilians. They simply seem to have more sense. And it's a mystery why humans don't…'

  The Master paused again. He seemed to be winding down.

  'Well, there you are. I'm more or less finished. And I imagine you've now worked out what we're all about. And what we're trying to achieve with our virus…

  'Yes, in a nutshell, we're a therapy. We're a therapy for a disease that can kill whole worlds, a disease called man - or at least man at his self-important worst. And we're trying to rein it back. Planet by planet, we're trying to put it into remission. And by doing so, we're trying to sustain the future, a future that all of us, man included, will have to share…

  'And one last thought. We're not too proud of what goes on aboard this ship. But it's necessary. And we hardly have to force people to come here. But remember, all this gross behaviour, all this depravity that you've witnessed, it is as nothing compared to that other depravity: the depravity of a sentient species overwhelming its fellow species and wreaking havoc on a world. That really is filthy, filthy and disgusting. And it's what drives us on. It's the motor for our mission, the mission I hope you now understand…'

  And that was it. The lecture was over. The point had been made. But there was still a footnote to add, a simple one. And it took the form of an earnest petition, a plea from the heart.

  'So will you help us?' said the Master. 'Will you help us to stop that woman? Because if you don't, she'll make the future a real hell. And I mean a real hell for all of us.'

  And then Orphenia was back. The Master had gone.

  48.

  It wasn't so much a list, more a series of mental jottings, thoughts thrown together as they walked to his room…

  Boz had asked for some thinking time - before they responded to the Master's plea. And that's why they were retiring to Renton's cabin, and why Renton was trying to clear his mind before they got there - with this handful of jottings.

  The first was the first revelation - about the existence of a pair of super viruses. And how both these viruses could change the future of every world where mankind had set up home. And this was something he'd still not got to grips with.

  And the second was the phenomenon that was the Lagooners. Or maybe it was just a single Lagooner, one who could exist through many bodies. The distinction was far less than clear. And then their purpose: their crusade against the remorseless expansion of mankind's numbers. And this was a stunner - and a stunner that needed far more thought.

  So too did number three: his feelings for Orphenia. She hadn't bounced back to quite where she'd been, but she'd done pretty well. Renton no longer loathed her. And indeed he now almost admired her. But he wasn't quite sure. He'd have to resolve the crusade thing first. And that would take time.

  So too would his hair. Time he didn't have. He'd seen its reflection in a shop front and it looked awful. But how did it manage it? How did it get so completely unkempt - and all on its own? There it sat, sticking out from behind one ear and curling up round the other. And the front had gone all wavy, a nice contrast to the patch of en-brosse near the back. It was a disaster, a tonsorial nightmare, an unhappy hair day as bad as they get. And wasn't that life? The climax is coming, the big one is here - and there you are with some soup down your shirt or a squilt on your nose. And there's nothing you can do. Not in real life, anyway. Not when it's not the movies - when, as Renton had established, you could cheat your way out of just about anything…

  Oh, and that reminded him. That film… there was something about that film - the one about the tree and the sloth. There was something niggling him about it, something he'd seen in it that was revealing… Only he couldn't think what it was…

  And now they were back in his room, and he'd have to shelve it. Leave his niggle for later - and pay attention to his partners. For Boz was now speaking.

  'Now look here, you two,' he opened. 'I'm happy to leave this here one to you. I mean, it don't seem quite fair that I gets a vote, on account o' me not bein' quite human - other than in my ambitious streak an' a few other things, like my…'

  'Like your taste for pastis and odd pipes,' finished Madeleine. 'Or did you have something other in mind? And before you say another word, forget it. You're in this as much as we are. We're not just talking about humans here. The Master made that very clear. We're talking about everybody - and everything - whatever is animate at any level. So you're in this, young Boz. And you mustn't duck out.'

  'OK, chile. Jus' thought I'd check. You knows how I am. Shy and retirin' an' all…'

  Then he grinned and Madeleine stuck out her tongue. The first item had been dealt with - and, it appeared, dispensed with.

  'You're sure that was the Master then?' queried Renton. 'Even though it was Orphenia speaking.'

  'Absolutely,' responded Madeleine. 'I'd stake my life on it. Wouldn't you?'

  'Yes, I would,' answered Renton firmly. 'There's no doubt about it. But I just wanted to check. You know - that it wasn't just me.'

  'It sure wasn't,' added Boz. 'I don't know how he does it, but it was that dude in there all right. We can take that as fact.'

  'OK,' said Renton, 'so now that we know we've been dealing with the top, what do we think? What do we think about what he's doing? And more to the point, do we agree to help him? Do we try and stop Bessie? Assuming, of course, that we can? Or are we out of our jurisdiction here, Boz? Should we leave it alone?'

  'No sir, we sure don't do that,' said Boz. 'That Bessie woman, she's gone and made it all personal. Hell, she's taken time out to tell us her plan, remember. All that boastin' an' all that braggin'. An' well, what she's plannin' is dreadful. I mean, right stupendful dreadful. Fillin' up this here universe with all you human monkeys. Hell, yous two on your own is bad enough at times. But gettin' knees deep in 'em… Well, that would be real fritty. I mean, it'd sure as hell frit the shit out of me!'

  'Blimey,' said Renton. 'You're pretty much decided by the sound of it. And I thought you weren't at all sure. I mean, isn't that why you asked for this recess - so you could come and decide?'

  'So we could come and decide, young Renton. So we could decide.

  'This is real heavy stuff. An' remember, if we win, if we succeed in prickin' Bessie's lill' bubble, we've still got all these goonies to deal with, them an' their control-freak way o' thinkin'. And you gotta consider that an' consider it hard - 'specially as yous is what's bein' controlled. You's human, remember. Although sometimes I doubt it. But anyway, yous is the subject of this here thepary of theirs.'

  'Therapy,' corrected Renton.

  'Yeah, well whatever… yous is the ones that gets it. It ain't us reptilians. An' that makes it a tough choice - for both of yous. Least, seems so to me.'

  'We've got to help them,' declared Madeleine. 'We've got to help them stop Bessie.'

  'What!' squeaked Renton. But I thought… Well, you know, that you weren't very keen. That you thought they were criminal…'

  'Not as criminal as Bessie. And anyway, it's just a matter of priorities. We've got to deal with her now, and then worry about the goonies later. And like Boz says, they'll only be a worry if we succeed against Bessie. And that, my dear, is hardly a forgone conclusion. That in itself, is going to be one hell of a challenge.

  'In which case, what are your thoughts on the matter? And you Boz? Where do you stand on the Bessie question?'

  'Well, like I say,' drawled Boz. 'Much as I love you humi-bean types, I sure ain't too keen in bein' up to my knees in the things. An' on top o' that, seems to me that dealin' wit
h one problem at a time is right good thinkin'. Full of all sorts of sense, I reckon. So, s'got my vote. Yeah, count me in. I'm with ya.'

  'And you, Renton?' enquired Madeleine. 'What do you think?'

  'I think we're wasting time. The quicker we sort out this Bessie woman the better. And then, as regards the Lagooners - and a Lagooner future… well, we'll just have to deal with that later. When we've decided how to…'

  'Good,' pronounced Madeleine. 'We seem to be in total agreement. We seem to have declared war on Bessie with complete unanimity. And all we need now is a battle plan, and we'll be well on our way…'

  At which point, Boz made a noise like a trombone with a hernia.

  'What the hell's that?' enquired Renton. 'You gone out of your mind or something?'

  'Nope,' said Boz as he finished. 'That's a war cry. Used to yell it at my school - when we took to the playin' field. You know, to put the shits up the other lot. An' I thought it might help. You know, to get us in the right mood. Now weez into joinin' battle an' all…'

  'School!' interrupted Renton. 'That's it! School! Why didn't I think of it before? Why the hell do I always need a prompt?'

  'What's you talkin' about?' enquired Boz. 'You gonna let us in on the secret?'

  'Yes, I certainly am,' confirmed Renton. 'You see, I've had this niggle. Ever since we saw that film. And well…'

  Renton paused to collect his thoughts, and then he continued.

  'Well, when I was at school, we had this teacher, a bloke by the name of Mr Francisco. And Mr Francisco was into trees. He actually taught physics, but his real interest was nature - and trees in particular. And he knew everything about them. And not just those on Omoria. You know, where I grew up. No, he could tell you about the trees on just about any planet you cared to mention. He was like a walking encyclopaedia. He seemed to know everything…'

  'And?' encouraged Madeleine.

  'And,' continued Renton, 'there was one day when he gave us an out-of-hours lecture on some special trees - and on some special animals. And he had these illustrations. And well, you won't believe this, but…'

  'But what?' demanded Madeleine impatiently.

  'Well,' continued Renton, 'they were special trees and special animals, because they were all found on… on Earth. You know… where the humans all started. And you see that's what was in that film. That was a scene from… from Earth. The Lagooners must be… well, I suppose you'd call them Earthlings. But whatever you'd call them, that's where they're from: Earth. The cradle planet. The lost world. And they're here, here on board this ship!'

  Now, what followed this newest revelation was, at first, a long silence. And then, when this long silence had run its course, a long discussion. And this discussion was on the subject of the credibility - and the magnitude - of what had just been revealed.

  For what must be realised is that in the long distant past, mankind had, indeed, been restricted to just one single planet, a planet called Earth. And that all humanoids in the universe could trace their ancestry back to this one world. Well, in theory they could - but not actually - because humanity was unaware of where this planet was.

  It had been lost. Somewhere along the line it had got itself mislaid. And then it had been forgotten. Only recently had it become of interest again, as modern-day mankind began to search for its roots. It had become fashionable to seek out this very first world. And it had even spawned an industry, people who now spent their lives tracking it down. They were known as Earth Worms.

  But so far they'd not succeeded. Try as they might they'd got nowhere at all. And the reason was that they'd nowhere to go.

  For, strange though it seems, all the references to the whereabouts of this Earth-world had been expunged from the records. They just didn't exist. It was as though the Earth would rather not be found. As though it was hiding from all those who sought it.

  So now, a treasure had been found. Or, at least, it might have been found. And this had to be considered. This had to be discussed. This had to be debated.

  And eventually the consideration and the discussion and the debate were all over, and Madeleine and Boz - and Renton - had all become convinced that Renton was right. It so fitted in with what they'd already discovered. For who in the universe was more likely to want to control the spread of a scourge than those who had first spawned it?

  So then they turned their attention to the magnitude of what they'd found, to its unparalleled importance in the history of human development - and to its spiritual significance to humanoids everywhere. And they soon decided they couldn't really cope with all that. So, instead, they turned their attention back to Bessie - and whether what they'd cleverly un-Earthed might play a part in her downfall…

  And that was when Boz came up with a plan, a scheme that might just give the Earth a very active rôle in her downfall. But to do this they would need some help. They would need some help from the Lagooners themselves. And they would need the Lagooners to admit who they were. And that could be a problem.

  They would just have to see…

  49.

  In the event the admission was a doddle. They'd approached Orphenia, and as soon as she - or rather he - had understood that they'd decided to help, she'd confirmed their deduction directly. And there'd been no prevarication. And, as far as Renton could tell, no resentment. In fact, quite the reverse. It was as though the question was almost welcomed. Perhaps it was what it implied: that the three detectives were not only willing to take on the dreaded foe, but that they were also up to the task. That they were smart and therefore capable of taking on Bessie and beating her - against all the odds.

  But Boz didn't push his luck. He didn't pry. So there were no further questions - about the Earthlings on Earth. Like whether they were “normal” or whether they were all like this Lollipop lot: a race of recycled types with maybe a series of regional Masters, each with his own “crew” of subservient land-based Lagooners. Boz didn't need to know and he didn't want to antagonize his hosts by asking. He preferred to move straight to the next item: the request for their help.

  Would they be prepared to take the Lollipop to Earth? And if so, could it land there? Was the Lollipop designed to enter a planet's atmosphere and could it actually be put down on a planet's surface?

  This time there were some questions in return. The Lagooners wanted to know the basics of Boz's plan, and they wanted to know in particular whether it involved Bessie setting foot on their world.

  Boz responded by telling Orphenia that her setting foot on their world was the very essence of his plan. That by coaxing her to go there and then by getting her to leave the confines of the ship - both of which he believed he could do - he could deposit her into the hands of the Earth-world authorities. And in that way he'd ensure her demise.

  The Lagooners had then agreed that they would help, and had confirmed that the Lollipop could indeed land on the Earth's surface. But they had done no more. They'd made no suggestion of how the Earth authorities might be engaged, nor indeed how cooperative they might be. That is, how willing they might be to participate in arresting the chief executive of the thirteenth largest corporation in the universe - no matter what evidence might be offered against her.

  But Boz and his partners took this absence of elaboration as a sign of caution by the Lagooners - just a continuation of their “need to know” basis of providing all and any information. And in due course, if and when more information was required, no doubt that would be provided too.

  So now it was all ready. The plan could be launched. And first off, a meeting with Bessie…

  50.

  She wasn't a happy bunny. Renton could sense this as soon as he entered the room.

  It was the bridgeroom, the ship's control centre from which, under normal circumstances, the Lagooners ran their craft - everything from its passage through the stars to its consumption of mindless muzak. There were still some of them there, but now they were working for her. Nothing was happening without her say-so. Except
, of course, the muzak. She'd wisely left that stuff alone.

  Renton was now standing before her. And Boz was there too. And then the audience commenced. And it commenced with a curse.

  'Stupid soddin' bastard!' she exploded. 'Talk about taking his time.'

  Renton inferred from this exclamatory outburst that the chief executive of the Trampul Corporation was less than entirely pleased with the progress being made with a Very Important Prisoner. That, just possibly, the Master wasn't coming up with the goodies quite as quickly as she would have liked. And his inference was right on the button as was confirmed by her further remarks.

  'He's still fuckin' about, tellin' us this and tellin' us that. And we're gettin' absolutely fuckin' nowhere. I don't know what his little game is. But I can tell you this: if it's at my expense, he's going to regret it. And I mean, he's really going to regret it. An' all those other Lagooners as well. They'll regret it too. They'll wish they'd never been effin' recycled. And I mean that. I mean, I really do mean that.'

  'Pardon me, ma'am,' said Boz slowly, 'but am I correct in assumin' that the Lagooner-in-chief guy ain't yet augmented your own fund o' knowledge on the subject o' these here viruses with like a sufficient amount of his own? I mean, like he hasn't fully imparted all those there bits concernin' like their modus operandi. You know, the manner in which they like operate with either that there Reprocil or that there Fornicil. Is that what it is? Is that the kernel o' your concern?'

  'What are you blithering-well talking about, you stupid friggin' reptile? He's not shown us the friggin' secret. That's what it is. Or didn't I make myself clear? All we've got is that fuckin' bucket over there.'

  She was now pointing to a silvery pot with a dome-shaped lid. It was the same pot that Renton had noticed in the lab where they'd first met the Master.