by J Battle
‘My name is Philip Humphrey Chandler, of Manchester, England, United Kingdom, Earth. Do you want the Post Code?’
One down, I thought, only two to go. As long as she doesn’t ask me why I’m here, I’ll be OK, I thought.
‘What are you doing here?’
Damn, I thought.
‘I…well, you’ll laugh at this I know, but I don’t really know. I was on this planet talking to some giants when, pow! I was here.’
‘You expect us to believe that nonsense?’
To be honest, now that I had time to think about it, it didn’t sound very plausible to me either.
‘It’s the truth,’ I replied, in a George Washington tone of voice.
‘Harry,‘ she said without taking her eyes off me. Her eyes were a wonderful light blue. ‘Why don’t you give our guest a taste of what’s to come if he doesn’t tell the truth?’
There was a quick rustle and before I could even move an inch, he punched me in the shoulder, really quite hard. That’s what I thought he’d done, until I looked down and saw the hilt of the knife sticking from my shoulder.
I was so shocked that I couldn’t say a word.
‘It’ll hurt more when he withdraws the blade,’ she said, as if she couldn’t wait.
She didn’t have to, and it did.
But I’m tougher that I look, so I didn’t cry; not until later.
‘So, question number two, again.’
‘I’m sorry, I’ve answered that question. Let’s move on to question three,’ I said, in a manner I thought that Strange might have used. Sort of like, I don’t care what you do to me, because, any second now I’m going to stand up and tie your ears together.
‘How would you like to die?’
Damn!
‘Can we have another go at question two?’
**********
Melvyn wasn’t having the best of time. He was tired and it didn’t appear that they’d be finished here any time soon, and, of course, Richards was looking at him in that how did you even get this job sort of way.
Melvyn ignored him, and the sympathetic look he was getting from Anne, on the other side of Richards. He didn’t want Richards’ judgment, or Anne’s sympathy; he just wanted to get the job done.
He stared at the aliens across the table and tried to raise a smile. You’d never guess they were aliens, he thought, as he studied them. The one on the left looked like a perfectly normal, rather large and rather round middle aged man, and the other one looked like a rather small, rather round middle aged man.
Mr. Big smiled back at him. Mr. Small had his eyes closed.
Melvyn nodded towards Mr. Small. ‘Is he OK?’ he asked, quietly.
‘Of course; don’t worry; he’s at optimum levels of comfort and efficiency.’
‘So, he’s not asleep?’
‘No, he is fully alert; he’s just prefers not to have the distraction of visual stimuli whilst he is processing the proceedings to ensure all legal compliance standards are met.’
‘OK. Let’s get going,’ said Melvyn, with a down to business tone. ‘As agreed with your agent, known as Millie, you were kind enough to transfer the start-up funds to the designated accounts, nearly a year ago now, and we are naturally keen to procure the wonderful technology she promised would be available to us. This is of especial interest to our President, who actually spoke with Millie.’
‘Of course, Mr. Melvyn, and be assured that those technologies are ready and waiting for you and your people. We are very experienced in this process; I myself have introduced next level technologies to more than 10 species and my colleague here has been involved with more than 20, so you can trust us to know exactly what we are doing.’
‘That is most reassuring.’
‘There is a standard format to these things which we will follow closely, ensuring due diligence in all matters. Now, the first step, and I know you are going to like this part, because everyone does, is spaceships.’
‘Spaceships?’
‘Yes spaceships; I see that you do not possess anything in the way of spaceships; just a few old rockets.’
‘But…’
‘Forgive me for interrupting you, but I’m sure you’ll be really pleased when you see the quality of spaceships we are able to supply you with. They are fast, reliable and economical, relatively speaking.’
‘But… we don’t need spaceships.’
‘Everyone at your level needs spaceships. You can’t be a junior member of the Galactic Confederation without spaceships, and you’ll love them. They are beautiful and elegant and just so much fun.’
‘But we have Fool’s Squirt Technology; we really don’t need spaceships.’
‘I’m afraid that you don’t understand what we are doing here, Mr. Melvyn. We have a process which we follow step by step to ensure that your interests are protected and that there is no danger of exposure shock.’
‘Exposure shock?’
‘Yes, it’s a condition whereby a lesser species is overwhelmed by the experience of contact with a superior species, causing despair, depression and ennui. We’ve seen it before and we are obliged to ensure that it does not happen here.’
‘Not on our watch,’ said Mr. Small, smiling beneath his closed eyes.
’Indeed; not on our watch. So we will take it step by step, to the mutual benefit of all.’
‘And if we refuse the spaceships?’
‘Well, in that case, I don’t see how we can progress, unless…yes maybe there is a way.’ He glanced at his associate, who didn’t notice.
‘We could just make it a paper transaction; an invoice with no movement of goods, if you like. That way you wouldn’t have to take the spaceships and we can mark that step as closed and move onto the next step.’
‘If you invoice us, what do we do with the invoice?’
‘Why, you pay it of course. What else would you do with it?’
‘So we pay for spaceships we haven’t received?’
‘I know; it’s a work around, but I can’t see any other way forward. Can you?’
‘How many ships is the minimum we can pay for?’
‘The total is worked out as a ratio to population volume. I think my associate will be able to provide you with a figure.’
Mr. Small opened one eye. ‘17420.’
‘Credits?’ Ever the optimist.
‘No; ships.’
‘It sounds a lot.’
‘Yes, and everyone will be a triumph of ingenuity.’
‘How much will it cost?’
Mr. Big smiled and slipped a small piece of paper across the table. 'I knew you’d ask,’ he said. ‘They always ask.’
Melvin stared down at the figure on the sheet of paper. It was a very small piece of paper for such a large number.
‘This is more than the advance we received,’ he said slowly, feeling Richards' eyes burning through the side of his face.
‘Credit facilities are available,’ answered a beaming Mr. Big. ‘After all, you have plenty of collateral. We’d take Greenhaven, Northern Europe, Southern Africa, the Indian Sub-Continent, and the East coast of China. That should cover it.’
‘And the US West coast; Los Angeles; I’ve always been a big fan of your films.’ For the first time, Mr. Small’s eyes were open, and Melvyn was sure he could see dollar signs.
'But that's…' He couldn't think what he should say next. He looked at Richards, but he just smiled back at him. Anne wouldn't meet his eyes; she had developed a sudden all-encompassing interest in her fingernails.
'Can I just say…?' he began, hoping that by the time he got to the punch-line, he'd have something to say that might make them see sense. 'Yes, this is our position, and I believe it is a perfectly reasonable position for us to take, given our current circumstances and the…somewhat intractable position you seem to have taken yourselves, with due regard to the…advances we have already made, ourselves, in the technological realm, which have (Come on! He exhorted himself. Get to the point; find
a point to get to.) enabled us to reach a place in our development where we feel we can hold our head up in any company and say (Where am I going with this? He asked himself.) without a shadow of a doubt that we belong here.'
He paused for a moment, his eyes flicking across his audience. Were they with him? Had he said enough to make his point? What was his point, anyway?
Anne stood up, attracting all of the eyes in the room; even those belonging to the aliens.
'Yes,' she began, full of confidence. 'I believe that my colleague is quite correct… in every point he has so far made.' The confidence was visibly leaking from her; replaced by a vacuum that was severely lacking in the self-confidence department.
'And I want to say that I concur with every point he made; especially when he said…that we belong here…at this table…with you. Thank you.'
She sat down abruptly, to check on her nails.
Richards smiled again, and nodded.
He leant back a little in his chair and propped one foot across his knee.
Melvyn was more than a little surprised to see that he was wearing cowboy boots, with little kitten heels.
'OK; OK. Gentlemen,’ Richards spoke in a calm, slow voice. ‘I think my colleagues have made their case quite succinctly but, just in case the message is being clouded by translation issues, let me speak clearly. We don't need your spaceships; we don't want your spaceships; we are not taking your spaceships, and we are not paying for your spaceships. If that's a deal breaker, then I'm sorry, but the deal is broken. Thank you and good night.' He stood up in such a decisive manner that his colleagues were left sitting in their seats, staring up at him in admiration.
'But, Mr. Richards, there's no need to rush at these things. We merely state our position, as do you, as our starting point for further discussion. I'm sure that we have a long way to go before we reach a point that we would be happy to call the end point.' Mr. Big spoke very quickly, as if afraid that they would leave prematurely.
Richards turned to Melvyn, and then to Anne, as if consulting with a glance.
'OK,' he said slowly. 'I've nowhere else to be this afternoon, so we are happy to continue from a starting point where we all agree that the spaceship question has been dealt with fully.'
'The spaceships are off the table,' Mr. Big reassured him as he sat back in his chair. Mr. Small was shaking his head.
Anne smiled gently at Melvyn, but he didn't notice as he’d already made the decision to check on each of his own fingernails to discover how much work would be required.
Chapter 21 - Then…an amorous moment
(Flesh on Flesh action alert!! Be warned that the following scene may offend those of a sensitive nature, or of any taste at all if I’m being totally honest. Now, I personally don’t even want to think about Phil’s lilywhite bobbing bottom, never mind write about it, so, when the moment arrives, I’ll just look away and think of roses. I suggest you do the same. N.F.)
The interrogation over for the time being, they sent me back to my cell.
I think I managed the walk with a certain dignity, as I didn't run, or stagger, or cry at my sore arm. I merely walked across the room and closed the door quietly behind me.
I sat for a moment in my chair, just glad to be on my own, with no-one asking difficult questions, or sticking things in me.
That made me think; I checked my arm. It felt OK; not sore at all. I widened the little hole the knife had made in my T-shirt, to check on the wound. I sucked my thumb for a moment, and then I used it to wipe away the blood. There was no wound; just my white unblemished skin.
Those nanos are pretty useful, I thought. Then I flexed my arm. Now, I've always wanted biceps, but never really had the will to do something about getting them. Now, I had them, and very impressive they were, I must say. I checked my pecs and my rock-hard abs, and my quads and then, of course, my glutinous maximus.
The nanos were turning me into some sort of superman. Would I be able to leap tall buildings in one bound? Was I already incredibly strong? Or was this all for show?
I leapt to my feet and picked up my chair. With a tug it came apart in my mighty hands. I grunted as I tossed the remnants into the corner.
I would have beaten my chest and roared out a challenge to the big guy, but I'd broken the nail on my little finger and it really hurt, and I now I had nowhere to sit.
The bundle of clothes in the corner turned out to be a moldy old sleeping bag; I walked over to pick it up. Before I could bend to reach it I heard the door behind me opening,
Oh no, I thought, not more questions.
It was Mandy, and she was smiling. If you know me at all you’ll be aware how I react to people smiling at me, but I did my best to return the smile.
‘We’re finished for the night,’ she said as she took a step forward, allowing the door to close behind her.
‘Oh…good,’ I said, taking half a step back myself. I didn’t know what was happening but, if this was some sly ploy on her behalf to get me to tell her everything I didn’t know, she was going to be sorely disappointed.
‘It gets quite lonely, you know, stuck out here in the snow, for months on end.’
‘What about dumb and dumber?’
‘Not really my type. Terry is just too big, and Harry is just too skinny.’
‘And me?’ I was already getting an idea what was coming, which was pretty quick for me, and my voice shook.
She smiled a really quite fetching smile, I thought, and said. ‘Why, you’re just right.’
My SHC implant in my left earlobe pinged to show it had received and responded to a query from her Sexual Health Check implant, and then pinged again to confirm that all was well and we were good to go.
She smiled knowingly as she crossed her arms before her and did that thing that only women can do and, in one smooth movement, pulled her jumper over her head.
‘Oh, my,’ I said as I moved towards her, and I’ll tell you this for nothing; I wasn’t using my peripheral vision anymore, and she didn’t seem to mind. No, she didn’t mind one little bit.
(Roses. Ah, the scent is so heady; the colour so red. But beware the thorns; they’ll tear out your heart. You’re getting the imagery here, aren’t you? Or am I merely wasting my time, casting pearls before swine? Don’t answer. No, it’s too late. I don’t care anymore. You’re all the same. I think he’s finished now anyway. That’s probably a personal best, nearly a full minute, but it has been such a long time since another human being has agreed to be intimate with him.
Wait a second though; he's starting again; goodness me. Who'd have thought he had the stamina, or the strength? Go on my son! Give it...
Sorry about that; got a little carried away there. He's not the only one who's been a little barren, romantically speaking. The Gobi desert is a feast of horticultural delight compared with the empty rolling plains of my love life, but you don't want to know about that, do you? All you want to hear about is our intrepid, amorous hero.
Here he is now, looking more than a little pleased with himself. N.F.)
Well, I thought, as I lay back on the sleeping bag, if that’s her new interrogation technique, then ask away, ask away; as long as you don’t include Terry and Harry in the process.
I wanted a bit of cuddle, because I like a nice cuddle afterwards, but she quickly slipped out from under my arm and collected her clothes on the way out.
A bit rude, I thought, she could have said she’d call me in the morning, or ordered a taxi for me.
But I knew I was kidding myself. I was just her plaything. She’d taken everything I had to give, and I don’t mind saying that it was plenty, and now she’d tossed me to one side.
But I didn’t mind; I still had a bit of an afterglow going on so, if she wanted a sex toy, she could just whistle and I’d come.
After a while the glow wore off and I began to think about the morning and the questions I wouldn’t be able to answer, and Terry and Harry, and Mandy back to being stern. I knew that I had to do s
omething before then if my newly ripped body was going to get the attention it deserved.
I put my clothes on first because even superman doesn’t look his best naked in the snow, if you know what I mean.
Fully dressed, I examined the external walls. They were made of wood, but they were fairly new and there were no signs of weakness. ‘Weakness; meekness,’ I said and, no, I don’t know what I meant, and then I forced my fingers between the heavy planks that made up the wall and tore a slat free, with hardly a sound, if you don’t count a very loud wince as I broke another nail.
I now had a space which I would normally have been able to wriggle my skinny body through, but superman needs a little more room, so I ripped another piece free and stepped out into the dark; the cold dark; the freezing cold, snowy dark; the really dark dark.
I immediately turned and came back in to the room, I wasn’t going anywhere without the sleeping bag to keep me warm.
Back out in the snow, I'd barely gone three steps before a familiar voice piped up in my head.
'Hello,' it said. 'Can you hear me?'
‘You're coming through loud and clear,’ I replied and I don't mind admitting that I was pleased to hear from the little fellow.
'Good. Please allow me to confirm identities before we continue.'
There was something about his voice that put me on edge. It was as if he was reading from a card, like those people who call you to sell you something you don't want.
'I am a beta version adjunct of The What if Something Really Bad Happens? AI and you are I believe Mr. Philip Humphrey Chandler. Is that correct?'
‘What's a beta version?’
'A test version without the complete features of the final version.'
‘Now you're messing with me, Neville. Let's cut the nonsense and squirt out of here. My feet are getting cold.’
'Squirt capabilities are not included in this package, but if you would like to score the suitability of such a feature on a scale of 1 to 10, please score now.'
‘So you can't squirt me home?’ I asked, quick as ever. ‘Can you get my nanos vibrating again to warm me up a little?’
