The VMR Theory (v1.1)

by Robert Frezza

  “She was a sorceress in Greek mythology,” Bunkie explained. “In the Odyssey she lured some sailors from Ulysses’s ship onto her island and turned them into swine.”

  “She must have been a very powerful sorceress to turn men into swine,” Minnie said, impressed.

  Wyma Jean smiled a worldly smile. “Honey, I can work the same trick with a six-pack and a short skirt.” She leaned forward. “Believe me—underneath those tight jeans they wear, they’re all little porkers.”

  “Can we cut the chatter back there?” I murmured. I tried to concentrate on Gwen. “Ah, Gwen, did the Macdonalds say what would happen to you if I didn’t cooperate?”

  “My contract gets cancelled, after which I’m broke.” Her eyes glittered. “Isn’t that the most horrible thing you’ve ever heard?”

  “Uh, did they mention anything about, say, pulling out your fingernails with pliers?”

  “Oh, thdy joked about it a little, but it isn’t as though I have time to grow real nails.” She pulled one off and held it up to show me. “But let’s cut to the chase here. Ken, do you have any idea just how much money I stand to lose if you keep behaving in your usual pigheaded, childish way? Knowing how much this means to me, I know you won’t let me down, now will you?”

  “Uh, right.” I looked at Bunkie, who moved over where Gwen couldn’t see her and held up a sign that said, DR. BLOK SAYS ONLY TWENTY MORE MINUTES. “Uh, Gwen, seen any good movies lately?”

  “Ken, I’d love to chitchat, but this is big money we’re talking here, a major client and interstellar exposure,” Gwen said in a disarming tone of voice. She gave me the hair flip that meant she was going in for the kill. “Letting everyone know that Macdonalds are really warm and fuzzy people is a major, major ad campaign, the kind of campaign that can make an entire career. Ken, this thing is as big as diet pet food. No, it’s bigger than that—as big as organic diet pet food. But they’re blaming me for your failure to get with the program here.”

  “Ah, sure.”

  “Now I know we couldn’t make a go of it, and that’s almost as much my fault as it is yours, but I still remember those dreams we had.” She batted her baby blue contacts at me. “Do you remember that little horse farm we always talked about?”

  I gave her a funny look. “What little horse farm?”

  “And the string of polo ponies? The little fantasies we used to talk about?” Her voice became a little huskier. “You can still make that happen for me, Ken.”

  I was clearly out of my depth here. The only fantasy of Gwen’s I knew of involved being naked in a shopping mall with a major credit card.

  Bunkie held up another sign, which read, DR. BLOK SAYS WE’RE READY TO GO FOR IT.

  “How about it, Ken?” Gwen said sweetly. “Then we can sit back and talk about all the good times we had together.”

  I drew a blank on that, too.

  By this time the bridge was full of unauthorized visitors. Minnie turned to Mickey. “Oh, dear! What a dreadful dilemma.”

  “Don’t listen to her, Ken!” Harry shouted.

  Rosalee waved a ten-spot over her head. “I got ten bucks that says he caves!”

  Gwen gave me another hair flip and blew me a kiss for good measure. Her image disappeared and Xhia’s replaced it. “Enough talk.”

  I glared at him. “You didn’t tell her what you have planned for her—torture, mutilation.”

  He shrugged. “Why be unpleasant?”

  “Can I have some time to talk things over with my crew?”

  “You may have five minutes.” The screen blanked.

  “I have Commander Lindquist standing by,” Bunkie said.

  “Well, everybody, we have five minutes to think of something,” I told my crew, trying to put the best face on things.

  “Circe wasn’t mentioned when we studied Greek mythic archetypes,” Mickey commented. “However, it would appear that Miss Wyma Jean is the quintessential Aphrodite, while Mr. Harry would appear to personify Mars.”

  “Friend Catarina is, of course, Minerva, the Goddess of Wisdom,” Minnie added. “We are still looking for an appropriate correlation for you, friend Ken.”

  I punched the intercom. “Catarina?”

  “We’re ready to try full thrust.” Her voice sounded tired. “No guarantees. How are things at your end?”

  “If we don’t give up in about two minutes, Xhia intends to torture Gwen and blow us out of space.” I glanced at the tactical display to study the cordon of warships surrounding us. “Their dispositions are a little sloppy, so if we try to scoot, there’s a chance we’ll make it.”

  I heard her chuckle. “Do what you have to do, Ken.”

  Xhia’s face reappeared on the viewscreen. “Well, time’s up!”

  “Hey!” I pointed to the time display. “Your watch is fast.”

  Xhia shrugged. “So sue me. Do you surrender yourself to certain deat’ or do I have tee pleasure of ridding tee universe of your presence?”

  “I’ve got a better idea,” I said before the peanut gallery in back of me had time to give me advice. “Why don’t we settle this, just the two of us, one-on-one.”

  Xhia appeared interested. “What are you suggesting?”

  “A duel, just you and me.” I turned to Bunkie. “Is there a good place to fight a duel on board this ship?”

  “There’s the ship’s auditorium,” Bunkie said, a mixture of compassion and disbelief in her eyes.

  I turned my attention back to Xhia. “A duel in the ship’s auditorium, then. If you win, my crew surrenders this ship to you intact, and you go home a hero. If I win, you give me Gwen intact and let us pass through the jump point unmolested with, say, an hour’s lead. That way, you still have a reasonable chance of blowing me out of space later.”

  He stroked his gill slits. “Your proposition intrigues me.”

  “Good. Now, how do I know that you and the fleet will follow through on the bargain if I win?”

  He stiffened. “You have my word of honor as a gentleman.”

  “Yeah, but all kidding aside, how do I know that you’ll follow through?”

  “I suppose I could move my fleet off as a token gesture.”

  “So what do you say?” I ignored a sudden burst of chittering behind me as Muffy and her friends conferred.

  “I accept your terms.” Xhia smiled. “And as tee challenged party, I have tee choice of weapons. I choose light-sabers!”

  Mentally, I counted to ten. “Why not heavy sabers?”

  “No, no, no. Light-sabers. Laser swords. T’ey slice, t’ey dice, and t’ey obviate tee need to carry stemo on camping trips.”

  “Peachy,” I said. “You wouldn’t happen to have an extra one on you, would you?”

  “As it happens, I do. A matched pair, in fact.” Xhia’s grin widened. “I am, after all, planetary champion. I will meet you at your airlock in fifteen of your minutes.”

  His image disappeared. I swiveled around in my seat. “What do you all think?”

  “You really screwed up, big time,” Rosalee observed candidly.

  “No question about it, major league dumb,” Wyma Jean said.

  “Yeah,” Harry added.

  “Among you humans, there is a long-standing literary tradition of engaging in sword fights aboard spaceships,” Mickey said judiciously. “It did not occur to me that this tradition was grounded in fact. But as Bucky says, ‘We are all silly putty in the hands of God.’ “

  “Uncle Bucky will be most interested when we tell him how this turns out,” Minnie added.

  “Right,” I said, moderately deflated and likely to become more so if Xhia really was planetary champion.

  “I’ll have Commander Lindquist meet you in the auditorium, sir.” Bunkie’s voice carried a trace of pity. “And I just want to say how much I’ve enjoyed serving under you.”

  I looked at Muffy and Trixie. “Do either of you know anything about light-sabers?”

  Muffy nodded hesitantly.

  “Okay, let�
��s go.” I gave Rosalee control of the board, and Muffy and Trixie showed me how to get to the auditorium.

  When we arrived, Catarina was waiting in a greasy set of coveralls. “Hello, Ken. Bunkie told me about your little brainstorm.”

  “You know anything about fencing?”

  “I was pretty good with a foil at the academy.”

  “Good. How much can you teach me in ten minutes?”

  “Not a lot.”

  “Is this the dumbest idea I’ve ever come up with?”

  She reflected. “It’s good enough for the top ten list.”

  “What part of it strikes you as unusually stupid?”

  “Asking for Gwen. Being obnoxious requires talent. She has it.”

  “I couldn’t just abandon her to a hideous fate. Well, maybe I could have. Are you upset?”

  “Me? Upset? Now, why should I be upset?”

  “You’re upset.”

  “Did Gwen say anything about dropping one or more of her lawsuits against you in return for this?”

  “Well, the subject didn’t exactly come up.” I coughed. “You know this business about getting religion and being nice to people really is a pain in the tail sometimes.”

  She smiled. “It is, at that. Did you actually stop and consider what it’ll be like having Gwen aboard ship?”

  I shuddered.

  “I thought so.” She looked at Muffy and Trixie, who were huddled together looking worried. “Can you tell us about fighting with a light-saber?”

  “Yes,” Trixie said. “Don’t.”

  “Will you be fighting saber alone or saber and mirror shield?” Muffy asked.

  “What’s the difference?”

  “A beam of light cannot parry anot’er beam of light, so saber-alone fight lasts approximately—” She conferred with Trixie for the proper time conversion. “—four seconds on average.”

  “How do my reflexes compare to Xhia’s, do you think?” I asked Catarina.

  “When is the last time you won a game of racquet-ball?”

  I nodded. “Right. Let’s go with the shield.”

  “How much do you know about fencing?” Catarina asked. “Never mind, we’ll find out.” She handed me a long stick. With Catarina to instruct me in the rudiments of sword-fighting and Muffy to explain the peculiarities of fighting with a light-saber, we quickly established that I was what is known in fencing circles as a slow learner.

  “All right,” Catarina said, brushing her hair out of her eyes impatiently, “let’s try it one more time, from the top.”

  Minnie and Mickey applauded politely.

  Rosalee interrupted over the intercom. “Skiff approaching. It looks to be our buddy, Xhia.”

  “What do you think?” I asked, leaning on my stick, breathing hard.

  Muffy hid her face in her hands. “You might stand a chance if he had severe rheumatoid arthritis,” Catarina said. “As it stands, our only chance is for me to take Xhia on in your place.”

  I shook my head. “You’re a woman. Xhia would never agree to let you substitute for me. Besides, what would we tell him?”

  Catarina thought for a moment. “We could say you tripped coming down a ladder and broke your arm. Under the circumstances, he’d have to agree to a substitute.” Bunkie nodded. “It’s a good story, sir. Nobody who knows you would have any trouble believing it.”

  “But Catarina,” I protested, “I can’t let you do that for me.”

  “Ken, this is no time to get chivalrous on me,” Catarina said crossly, “and we don’t have time to argue.”

  “But, I mean, I can’t—er, I won’t—”

  “Are you trying to say it’s all right if you get sliced up, but it’s not all right if I get sliced up?”

  “Well, yeah.” I started to say something really mushy and never quite got it out before I noticed Catarina muttering a quick prayer—for herself, not me, which was a very bad sign. A few seconds later I asked, “What I am doing on the floor?”

  Catarina bent over and rubbed my cheek. “At the academy I took judo in addition to foil. Think of this as our first argument.”

  I tested my left wrist. Bunkie produced an elastic bandage from the first aid cabinet and began wrapping me up.

  “Is it broken?” Catarina inquired.

  “It may just be sprained. Do you have to be such a stickler for authenticity?”

  “Never hurts.”

  “Speak for yourself.” I looked at her thoughtfully. “I hope you’re not going to use this as a precedent for settling future arguments.”

  She kissed me on the nose. “Promise.”

  “Are you going to win this fight?”

  “No, but hold the gestures of affection and really stupid comments anyway.”

  “Got it.”

  While Bunkie finished checking me out, Muffy and Catarina experimented with technique. A minute later Rosalee reported that Xhia’s skiff was docking, and Bunkie went to the airlock to meet him.

  Catarina looked at me. “Ken—”

  “Yeah, I know. The next time I feel like doing something for Gwen, send her a nice Christmas present instead.”

  She grinned and blew a kiss at me. “It was the honorable thing to do.”

  Escorted by Bunkie, Xhia appeared wearing black— black cape, black boots, black tunic, and black coalscuttle helmet—which contrasted well with my silver-sequined bodysuit. Behind him was an honor guard of fourteen, Gwen, a couple of camera crews, and a few hangers-on.

  “Xhia! Nice to see you.” I held up my arm. “Unfortunately, I had a minor accident, so there’s been a slight change in plan. Excuse me for a second. You, there— please get that camera out of my face right now Thank you. I’m back. Ah, instead of turning me into chopped meat, you get to go up against my partner, Commander Lindquist, instead.”

  “What farce is t’is?” Xhia opened the faceplate on his helmet and scowled. “A warrior bom, fighting against a woman?”

  Catarina smiled for the cameras. “What’s wrong?” she asked with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Think you’ll have trouble hacking it?”

  Xhia gestured violently. “A woman has to obey and find a dept’ for her surface, for her nature is surface, a changeable, stormy film upon shallow waters. But a warrior’s nature is deep, his torrent roars in subterranean caves: a woman senses his power but does not comprehend it. For t’is reason, a woman hates a warrior as iron speaks to a magnet, ‘I hate you most because you attract me but are not strong enough to draw me to you.’ “

  At this point Muffy stepped forward with a blistering barrage of comments in Sklo’kotax.

  “She just told him to go soak his head,” Trixie reported.

  Xhia stiffened. “One can be silent and sit still only when one is armed. You say t’at a good cause hallows any war, but I say t’at a good war hallows any cause! Yet a warrior may have enemies whom he hates, but not enemies whom he despises. You must be proud of your enemy: t’en tee success of your enemy will be your success, too!”

  Catarina grinned lazily while these remarks were being translated for broadcast back on Alt Bauernhof. “But I’m a vamp, and that should count for something. If you can’t defeat a vamp who happens to be a woman, well, tsk tsk tsk.”

  “Pardon me,” the translator interrupted, “but what is tee best definition of ‘tsk’?”

  “Xhia, let me put it to you this way,” Catarina said, ignoring the translator. “We’ve got an audience. The show must go on! Light-sabers with shields?”

  Xhia nodded abruptly, a curiously human gesture. “Tee being consummating his life dies triumphantly surrounded by warriors full of hope and making solemn vows; t’at is tee best demise, but tee second best is to die in battle and squander a great soul.” He motioned, and a little robotic wastebasket wheeled up and spit out two light-sabers and two shields. “I believe it is customary for you to choose a weapon first.”

  Muffy picked out a saber and shield for Catarina, and then we broke for commercials. A professional to
her fingertips, Gwen immediately gathered the technical staff around her to work on their camera angles. I was touched, and wondered how I could have ever grown up this stupid.

  “I t’ink it is a natural talent,” Trixie said, reading my mind.

  When we came back live, one of the honor guard stepped forward, blew something that looked like a pregnant tuba, and shouted, “Let tee battle begin!” A petite female Macdonald carried a sign around that my beat-up dictionary translated as “Round One.”

  Xhia and Catarina flicked on their light-sabers and circled each other warily while a Macdonald in a loud polyester suit did color commentary. Then Xhia moved in fast, and he was very, very good, which meant that my original estimate that I would have lasted at least ten seconds was hopelessly optimistic. Catarina was fast, but not fast enough.

  She gave ground steadily. Xhia talked steadily as he forced her back toward the wall. “A warrior does not like fruit which is too sweet. T’erefore, a warrior likes women, for even tee sweetest woman is still bitter.”

  “I don’t mean to criticize,” she said gently, probing at him. “But has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?”

  For an answer, he made a sudden slash at her left leg. She managed to get her shield down to block it, but not completely. I could see the pain on her face, and her coveralls smoldered where the light-saber had touched them.

  “What good is long life to a warrior?” He hit her with a sudden flurry of blows, the beam of light from his saber bending against her shield and miraculously springing erect. It was all very Freudian, and I could see why light-saber fighting was so popular on Alt Bauemhof.

  “What is any being but a heap of festering diseases reaching out into tee universe t’rough tee spirit, a knot of savage serpents devoid of inner peace which seek out prey alone?” He launched a vicious head cut at her. “Knowing t’is, what warrior wants to be spared?”

  Catarina remained silent, retreating steadily and occasionally chopping at Xhia as she tried to find an opening.

  “Yes, I find you wort’y,” Xhia said, his eyes smiling behind the black metal of his helmet. “Yet tee unwort’y will hold t’is against you and never forgive, for tee higher you climb, tee smaller you appear in envious eyes; and we who fly highest are hated most of all. Life is a fountain of delight, but where rabble also drinks, all wells are poisoned. Flame is unwilling to burn where t’ey have put t’eir damp hearts. Fruit trees grow wit’ered and bend where t’ey gaze. For tee rabble were bom to be yoked. T’ey fling away t’eir true wort’ when t’ey cast aside t’eir bondage! But you are free, and for what are you free? Can you furnish yourself wit’ your own good and evil and hang up your own will above yourself as a law? Can you be judge of yourself and avenger of your own law? It is like being a star tossed into empty space and tee icy breat’ of solitude. And so it is fated t’at for you life must end!”