Phil did his best to look comfortable and nonchalant, grinding his way into the seat as it moulded to his hefty form. It felt like a space limo, or at least what he thought a limo might feel like had he ever been able to fit in one. Or have attended an occasion where one was required or present. Or been invited to any occasion in particular. Phil was a firm anti-socialite, he didn't see any television companies wanting to make a reality documentary of his life!
Without warning they blasted off from the planet he called home and into space at a frightening speed. He gulped out the window as the little blue point of light slowly receded. All of this for a pink glove? It made no sense.
Chapter 3
Catsuit! Burroughs! Toaster!
The shuttle touched down on a large metallic plate on some obscure rock, Phil had no idea where they were. His astronomy teacher had retired after he had confused Pluto with Venus for the eighteenth time that semester.
The plate they had touched down on began to spin dizzily, corkscrewing its way through layers of rock and sending Phil sprawling to the other end of the shuttle wall with a thud.
Eventually the movement ceased and the wall stopped trying to cuddle him to death, his head span crazily and he didn't dare attempt to get to his feet.
The click of the shuttle door signalled that the attempt was going to have to be made. Phil had learnt some time ago that nobody was willing to carry him about the place, he felt inconvenienced by this numerous times per day.
Heaving himself to his feet, he staggered out of the open hatch and into the blinding light of the hallway.
'Welcome to Star Command, Phil Jones. Please follow me.'
Phil's disorientation decided otherwise, he staggered to the side and bounced off the rocky wall which in turn sent him flying into a series of barrels.
The barrels had no opinion of their new trajectory and bounced along without complaint into a console on the far wall. A red light directly above it started flashing and a siren went off ominously.
Phil's escort and pilot both stared agape at the improbable scene unfolding before their eyes, a sweet female voice chimed over the intercom as if to reassure them.
'Self destruct is imminent, please depart Star Command dock immediately. Have a pleasant day.'
They both rushed forward to the terminal and sent out an emergency signal to Star Command headquarters, the siren ceased abruptly and they both let out a sigh of relief in concerto.
Picking himself out of the wreckage, Phil got up just fast enough to spot the doors of the dock slide open to reveal a serious-looking woman in a catsuit.
'What is the meaning of this?' she asked the two men standing by the console.
The pilot quickly absolved himself of blame and wilted under her harsh gaze, giving a meaningful look to the man next to him in the hopes that he'd be able to explain.
'We were transporting the glove-wearer to Star Command when his legs decided to take him elsewhere. His subsequent bumbling triggered the self-destruct mechanism.'
The woman clapped her hands together in glee. 'You mean he did this? He's here right now? Where is he?' She scanned the room and finally locked gazes with Phil.
The gloved one as he was now called had very few experiences with women that weren't pixelated or airbrushed, this was seen as normal in the circles he moved in. Though to claim that Phil Jones moved in social circles would be like suggesting that vultures were fussy eaters.
As a result of this relative inexperience he was considerably flabbergasted by the appearance of this cat-suited woman in the flesh. She was slowly advancing upon his position, he scrambled up and tried to make himself look presentable.
'So you are the glove-wearer! It's such a thrill to finally get to meet you!'
The seriousness had departed, she beamed a bright smile upon him and seemed genuinely excited at the prospect of meeting him, something Phil hadn't witnessed since a particularly large order of his had saved a local pizza firm from bankruptcy. His picture was on the wall there, some would argue that had been his finest achievement today and if he were to drop dead tomorrow it would be his only contribution to society in general.
Phil mumbled something incoherent in response to her enthusiastic greeting, completely at sea as to how to react to an attractive woman lavishing him with attention.
She laughed as if he had cracked the wittiest joke she had heard all week and proceeded to hook her arm around him, forcibly dragging him toward the two men and the open bay doors.
In spite of his shock he made a valiant effort at staying on his feet this time, his wounded pride refusing to allow him to make an even bigger fool of himself in front of a real life woman.
'What is your name, glove-wearer?' she asked him as they crossed the landing platform.
'Phil Jones, mam,' he finally managed to splutter out.
She winked at him playfully. 'Such a gentleman too! No wonder the glove chose you!'
Up until this point Phil could be forgiven for feeling that being 'chosen' by the glove wasn't like winning the lottery. He was starting to come around to the idea though if it meant that pretty women hung off his arm and gazed at him adoringly.
'And what are your names, gentlemen?' this siren in lycra asked, her voice completely serious and business-like once more.
'RJ mam,' the Texan drawled, sweeping his hat off his head and revealing a slight bald spot, not that Phil was in any position to comment.
The suited man looked at her for a moment without deference, as if deciding whether supply his name or not. 'You may call me Smith. Agent Smith.'
'Welcome to Star Command, gentlemen. If you'd like to pass through I will take it from here.'
RJ happily entered the building as if it were a second home, Smith remained unmoved at their side.
'Mr. Jones is my responsibility, I refuse to hand him over to any Star Command official.'
Phil felt the grip on his arm tighten slightly at this newly perceived threat. 'Have you any objections to my accompanying Mr. Jones into Star Command? I can call my superiors should you feel there is a problem.'
Agent Smith offered her a thin smile and beckoned them both to continue on into the main building. 'By all means, lead on. I'll be keeping an eye on Mr. Jones though, we don't want any misappropriation.'
The woman made a small 'hmmph' sound and proceeded at a brisk pace through the large doors, Phil struggling to keep up with her as she towed him forward with surprising vigour.
Whatever this glove was, it seemed to offer him some form of importance to all these people. He sincerely doubted they'd be interested in him otherwise. He just hoped they could get this thing off so he could go back to playing on his computer like none of this had happened. He wondered to himself whether the graphics card had arrived yet and if the postman would report a missing person when Phil wasn't there to receive it.
They passed into a large concourse now with a variety of banners depicting a large rocket ship blasting off from what looked like Earth. Phil came to the realisation that he still didn't know this woman's name and was following her blindly onward, he doubted Agent Smith was really there to see that he was treated well, he only wanted the glove. He felt very vulnerable after thinking that, like a jelly that had been taken out of its customary place in the fridge and sat quivering in fright at its new surroundings.
The woman waved her hand over a small pole jutting out of the ground and the door opened in response, they were led down a series of bright corridors and eventually down what looked to be a large space elevator. She stopped at a door and waved her hand over a panel to the right of it. A clear chiming sound was made but the door refused to open.
'You'll have to excuse the Grand Admiral,' she said to Phil, completely ignoring Agent Smith, 'he's a very preoccupied man at the best of times.'
Phil looked at the woman for a moment, wondering whether he should pose the obvious question. He decided that if this attention was going to continue he'd be better off knowing. 'What's your nam
e?'
She gave a girlish titter, hiding her mouth behind one hand. Phil spotted Agent Smith rolling his eyes.
'My name is Annika, it's a pleasure to meet you, Phil Jones of Earth.'
The warmth that Phil felt in his cheeks increased by a magnitude, it had been a pleasure to meet him. When was the last time anyone genuinely enjoyed his company outside of utilising his prowess online?
The door made another chiming noise and slid open, clearly offering them entry into the Grand Admiral's quarters. Phil briefly noticed that RJ had elected to stay outside rather than deal with the Admiral.
The greying balloon of a man sat behind a polished desk with a holographic terminal floating in mid air. He made an elaborate show of touching the desk and the series of important looking instructions were sucked into the furniture.
'At last, you come bearing the glove-wearer. A most welcome sight indeed!'
Annika and Agent Smith both rapped off smart salutes, Phil attempted the same and nearly knocked himself out in the process.
The Grand Admiral didn't rise from his seat upon their entrance, such was his importance. Instead he waved away their salutes and demanded they be seated.
'Annika, would you care to tell me who these two young gentlemen are?'
She gazed over at Agent Smith with a look of confusion, Smith sighed.
'The glove-wearer is a man from Earth called Phil Jones, the man beside him is known as Agent Smith.'
The Admiral frowned, turning to the Agent who was still sporting his shades. 'Smith, eh? A new man?'
'I've been with Star Command for twenty years Grand Admiral Burroughs, sir.'
Confusion broke out over the Admiral's face. 'Twenty years? What department are you in?'
'I'm a special Agent sir, under your command.'
Burroughs nodded. 'It's so difficult to keep track of all these Agents, you'll forgive me for not recalling your name.'
'Yes sir,' Smith replied in a tired voice as if from rote.
The older man dismissed him with a nod of his head, the Agent remained seated but largely forgotten about. Instead he turned to Phil Jones.
'The glove you are wearing is part of the causality effect that those of us in command are entrusting will give us the edge on those ghastly Voravians.'
Phil looked back at him blankly. 'What's a Voravian?'
The Admiral looked at Phil's bulging waistline with a strange look of admiration. 'Do you like food, Mr. Jones?'
He paused, wondering if the Admiral was asking him a trick question, then at the encouragement of Annika he nodded tentatively.
'I suspected as much, tell me Phil, I can call you Phil can't I?'
Phil nodded.
'Do you like waffles, Phil?'
Phil nodded hungrily, scanning the room for any waffle-shaped objects. None presented themselves, perhaps they were in hiding.
'Imagine a delicious waffle that is stuck in the toaster on too high a setting. You're trying to stop the thing but the lever is stuck, you try and dig it out with a fork and you manage to electrocute yourself. You slip on the kitchen floor and brain yourself against the fridge and still it won't come out.'
Phil relived some painful memories, he had tried digging the waffle out with a spoon when the fork had got caught in the grill. The charred remains were too far gone to savour, no matter how much honey and cream he poured on it.
'The Voravians have their hands over the eject button and they're watching our waffle burn with a smile.'
Phil stood up, sending his chair flying across the room. 'Those bastards!'
The Admiral hammered the desk in approval, sending a series of monitors fuzzing across the air before settling back into the surface. 'That's the spirit that man! Annika he certainly shows the right attitude towards these things!'
Annika beamed a smile adoringly at Phil, Agent Smith remained unmoved by the display.
The floor opened up and a second chair rose to greet Phil's posterior, much to his enjoyment.
'So you see Mr. Jones, this is where you fit in. The glove was to land on the hand that would land on the hand over the toaster button.'
Phil looked at him blankly.
'You were chosen to stop the Voravians.'
Phil looked at him blankly.
'We will outfit you with a craft and a team and some tactical analysis of the opposition, from there we are confident that the choices you make will result in victory.'
Agent Smith chose this time to interject. 'Grand Admiral, we have yet to ascertain whether he truly is the one that the glove has chosen to be worn by or whether this is pure coincidence. We still need to run some tests before we can supply him with a team.'
The Admiral blinked. 'I'm sorry, who are you?'
Smith sighed. 'Agent Smith sir, I'm a special Agent under your command and have been for twenty years, I came into the room with Annika and the chosen one not a moment ago.'
'Smith eh?' the Admiral mused. 'Doesn't ring any bells.'
'I've saved your life from numerous disasters on sixteen separate occasions sir, the details are in your logs.'
The Admiral clapped his hands together. 'Yes, of course, that Smith! Nice of you to join us that man! So why are you here?'
Smith sighed.
'What I think Agent Smith was trying to say is that we need to test Phil Jones before we're completely certain that he is the chosen one and that we shouldn't immediately form a crew around him until they are complete.'
The Admiral smiled. 'An excellent idea! Annika, take him to the test chambers! I don't know where you come up with these but you're getting a pay rise.'
Smith sighed.
Chapter 4
Box! Testing! Rrrzzarrgghhzzz!
Annika led Phil Jones and Agent Smith down the bright Star Command corridors and out into a large room filled with consoles. Men in white coats tapped at the holographic images with a frenzy of moves barely visible to the human eye. Phil felt quite overwhelmed by the whole experience, silently wondering what all this testing would entail.
'Mr. Jones.' A bald man in a lab coat too large for him approached with an extended arm. Phil shook it nervously, waiting for the inevitable probing and prodding he had come to expect from doctors.
'We have been setting up the holographic projector to run a series of aptitude tests on you, first we'd like to take a look at that glove of yours. If you don't mind of course.'
Agent Smith walked over to a desk with a smile on his face, he had clearly been waiting for this. Pulling out a small box he proceeded to a large table and set it there, Phil was flanked by Annika and the doctor but didn't feel any safer for having company. There was something entirely unnerving about that smile.
Seating himself at the desk, he looked up at Smith with questioning eyes. 'What is this?'
Smith's smile seemed permanently etched upon his face, he was enjoying this a lot. 'It's a box for your glove.'
Once again, Phil didn't feel any wiser for having been told something.
'What's in the box?'
'Your hand will be in the box in a moment,' Smith replied. 'Then we shall see whether the glove really has chosen you or if this is all a bad coincidence.'
'Will it hurt?'
Smith shrugged. 'I guess we're going to have to find out. Place your hand in the box, Mr. Jones.'
Phil Jones stared at the small wooden box, it looked oddly out of place surrounded by all this high-tech equipment. He hesitantly reached forward and put his hand into the dark hole at the base of the box.
A sucking noise came from the box as it attached itself to his hand, he leapt off the seat and turned over the desk, falling sideways and bouncing off one of the walls in his frantic attempts to get this thing off his hand. He vaguely heard voices trying to reassure him that everything was going to be okay and not to panic but when your arm feels like it's being sucked into a portable pool of quicksand it's more than a little distressing.
It took seven lab technicians to restrain him, Agent Smi
th didn't seem overly fussed with the reaction but the doctor in the white coat was aghast at the potential damage Phil could cause their equipment.
Then as suddenly as it had begun, the sucking noise ceased. Phil lay there in relief as the box slowly detached itself from his hand and dropped harmlessly onto the floor.
He looked down and a familiar sight greeted him, he was still wearing the glove.
Smith stared. 'No. There must be some kind of mistake here.'
It was Annika that cut in protectively. 'Agent Smith you have used the box, it has a 100% success rate with everything except the glove-wearer. The human genome station designed it that way as a fail-safe, it is not in error.'
She gazed at Phil adoringly. 'He is the glove-wearer, he is the chosen one.'
Smith was silent, clearly he didn't hold that opinion.
'Regardless of whether the glove is successful in identifying the suitability of our candidate, we still require a barrage of tests to be run on Mr. Jones,' the doctor said.
'What sort of tests, Doc?' Phil asked, his fear starting to rise once again.
'I'm a scientist, not a doctor. First thing we need to do is determine your aptitudes and capabilities so that we may select a team that fits around your skills.'
Seeing his blank stare, Annika prodded the doctor into explaining more.
'Yes, well, you see the tests are virtual in nature. We project images around you and give them form which you can grasp and control. Most of these images will be to test you, others will be available to aid you in that test. Are you ready to begin?'
'The chosen one is ready for any task that you throw at him!' Annika exclaimed, bubbling with positivity.
Phil looked at her in shock, he'd much rather have just gone home but he doubted that was an option any more considering they couldn't get the damn glove off.
'Er... I guess we can start the tests now if you want.'
Agent Smith smiled. 'By all means Hanniman, start the tests on our intrepid chosen one, they should be most... enlightening.'
Annika shot him an icy glare, her grip on Phil's arm now painfully tight after his latest ordeal. 'I have full confidence that Phil will suffice in every challenge you throw at him.'
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