Enough about the carpet though, he needed to focus! For the third time this morning, Phil returned his concentration to the task at hand, chiefly getting out of the front door and going for his morning walk, wondering if any more free things would befall him on the way.
'And now here's Tom with the weather.'
Phil spun and fell backward, landing uncomfortably due to the distinct lack of pizza boxes to cushion his landing. Staring in the direction of the noise he was bewildered to find that his television had flicked on without any prior warning. He searched the floor for the controller but to no avail, it sat neatly upon the arm of the couch and couldn't have been activated from his previous vertical position.
Rising slowly, Phil crept over to the phantom set and reached for the controller, intending to turn it off and get on with his day.
That was when he noticed the moustache.
Well, not the moustache itself, which was rather unassuming and groomed to perfection to withstand the rigours of national television. No, it was the quality of the moustache that proved most baffling, with every strand and every fleck of grey clearly visible to Phil's naked eye.
There were many things wrong with him, he would be the first to admit that, but he had never needed a visit to the optometrist in all his time here. His eyesight was perfect and there was a notable difference in picture quality here.
Fishing for the remote while refusing to take his eyes from the image on the screen, Phil flicked through a series of channels to see what would happen.
All of them sparkled with crisp definition, inviting him and imploring that he revel in their aesthetic perfection.
Phil's willpower briefly reasserted itself by hitting the power button on the remote. No, he had to go on his walk. He could deal with the high definition television and the free internet and such after he got back.
Turning once more to go, Phil strode determinedly toward the door and reached for his keys to unlock it.
A thump came at the door, causing him to jump. 'Special delivery!' came the familiar call.
'I think you have the wrong number.' Phil replied, noting the smells that had started to waft through into his apartment.
'Would you be Phil Jones? This pizza is addressed to you, all expenses paid.'
A pizza? Delivered to him? At this hour in the morning? This day was getting stranger and stranger.
'I am Phil Jones, yes.' he replied, unlocking the door to be greeted by the familiar sight of a delivery man.
'Triple pepperoni with mushrooms and olives and...' the man stared at the order, his eyes scrolling down it. 'Well, let's just say I hope you like your toppings, this thing is more pyramid than pizza.'
The Phil Jones of a few months prior would have nodded vigorously, thanking the heavens for the bounty which had been freely bestowed upon him. As it stood there was still a rather large portion of him that felt this way, but it was tempered somewhat now by that growing flame of hope within him.
'I'm not sure I can accept this pizza.' he finally managed, tearing his eyes off the steam rising from the heated box as it was slipped from the cover of the delivery man's satchel.
To his credit, the man tried his best not to look perplexed at the possibility of Phil turning down free food. He had already been informed of the dark day that had befallen the company prior to his employment, when their most beloved customer had suddenly stopped ordering and brought them to the brink of administration. 'What's stopping you from accepting?' he queried. 'It's labelled for you, someone has to eat it.'
Phil shook his head, the pangs of hunger and greed waging war with his self control. 'Can't you have it?' he managed, forcing his eyes shut and trying to imagine a lack of pizza anywhere near him.
'Sorry, they're very strict about us eating on the job. Best I can do is leave it outside your door.'
Phil nodded, his face pale and sweating under the self control he had imposed. 'Do it.' he muttered, rather rudely slamming the door in the man's face and sliding back-first down to the floor.
The pizza remained outside, entirely unaffected by Phil's neglect and continuing to send enticing steamy tendrils under the crack in the door.
He opened his eyes and rubbed away the sweat that stung at them, taking a deep breath before rising to his feet and wondering just what this day would throw at him next. He knew he had to pass the pizza in order to get out on his walk, but would his willpower withstand a second encounter with such a tempting crust?
Another knock came at the door, Phil was about to shout at the delivery man to leave him alone when he noticed that the cadence of the knock had changed. Another visitor?
Opening the door he was greeted by a wrinkled old hispanic woman who beamed up at him over a pair of thick-rimmed glasses.
'Can I... help you?' Phil asked, trying not to pay attention to the sensuous pizza between their feet.
'Housekeeping!' the woman chimed, her thick accent affording the word a strange sibilance.
Phil blinked. 'I... er... I don't recall ordering a housekeeper. Are you sure you have the right house?'
'Señor Jones?' the lady replied, though the way she said his name made it sound more like 'honez' than anything else.
Ordinarily old ladies did not fill him with a sense of dread, but this was one coincidence too many. Someone or something was determined to keep him from his morning walk, and he couldn't help but think the intentions for doing so were sinister.
'Who employed you? Are you even allowed to work here?' Phil asked.
'I notta Mexican!' the old woman proudly stated, puffing her chest out and entering Phil's flat uninvited. She surveyed the scene as if observing a terrible tragedy unfolding and promptly crossed herself. Phil's hygiene may have improved markedly but clearly his flat was still beneath the levels of cleanliness this small woman demanded.
Without further word or command, she proceeded to shuffle into the room and tidy. Phil watched on, completely at a loss for what to say. One minute she had been a stranger on his doorstep, the next she seemed to own the place, tsking repeatedly in a fashion that he felt was most judgemental.
Too many coincidences, or was he merely being paranoid? No, he definitely wasn't, there was no way all these things could happen so close together.
'I... I'm going out to get some fresh air.' Phil announced to his new cleaner, who briefly nodded at him and resumed her duties. Without further preamble he grabbed ahold of his keys and saw himself out, finally ready to resume his previously aborted walk.
He made it out the door, closing it behind him and pocketing the keys with a glance at the attached space ship model. It had formerly been the Delta Flyer from Voyager, but after his previous adventures he had returned to find it transformed into the unnamed ship he had Captained.
So lost was Phil in his thoughts that he didn't notice the svelte figure silently watching him from afar.
'Hello there!' she called out to him, an easy smile upon her face as she walked over with cat-like grace.
Phil was not an overly paranoid person, but having someone cheerfully approach him that wasn't trying to sell him something was an entirely alien concept prior to his adventures. He sighed and thought of Annika for a time as this other woman approached.
'Can I help you?' he managed to get out, more from frustration at yet another roadblock appearing in his schedule than any genuine concern over an attractive woman speaking to him.
'I'm new to this apartment.' the mysterious woman replied in a cheerful manner, her voice sounding like she'd just won first place in the helium balloon swallowing contest. 'Just thought I'd say hi, my name's Anne.'
'It's er... nice to meet you, Anne.'
They stood staring at each other for a brief moment. 'I... I'm Phil.'
She beamed at him in what he suspected would have been described as a radiant fashion. The sort of smile that could pierce men's souls and disarm defences, like a wet dog running through paper mache.
Phil couldn't tell whether it was a defen
ce mechanism on his part, but he now had the image of a large sloppy dog bounding in slow motion to the tune of Vangelis.
'Well... it was nice to meet you, Phil.'
Phil nodded dumbly, not saying anything else and proceeding to wave goodbye when prompted to the retreating Anne as she crossed the hallway and entered the adjacent apartment.
Blowing air through his pursed mouth, he proceeded to make his way down the stairs and out for his walk.
A crack opened in the previously closed door, a single eye surveying him as he trundled down the stairs and out of the apartment block.
'This is low-hanging fruit to base one, I have made contact with the blimp. It's floating out now.'
The sound of static resolved into a familiar voice. 'This is base one to low-hanging fruit, you have a go on your situation. I repeat, you have a go on your situation.'
Anne terminated the transmission from Star Command and put her plan in motion.
Chapter 34
Pizza! Jelly! Anniamqtrappenmroahthazzzoomaothovvsahhhandshh!
The walk was uneventful in the end, with no more disturbances or protrusions into Phil's life than he had expected. It was good to finally get settled down into his routine and allow himself time to mull over recent events, of which there had been far too many of late.
Was it really feasible for a mountain of luck to suddenly hit in one great avalanche? He'd certainly built up enough bad luck over the years through his previous life to warrant it, but he'd have much preferred it being less disconcerting in presenting itself.
By the time he'd made it back to his apartment there was no sign of either his newly-acquired cleaner or the bubbly tenant who had accosted him from the adjacent apartment. He would have almost written it off as a bad dream were it not for the rearrangement of certain items in his apartment and the lingering smell of bleach.
Settling down into his computing chair, he was quickly greeted by the familiar wallpaper of the five Captains smiling back at him. At least the cleaner hadn't changed that then.
The system ran as smooth as butter now that the new graphics card had finally been installed. He quickly clicked through to his local bank and found that his ISP payment had been rejected. Not because his regular stipend hadn't been enough to pay it but because it was now free of charge as the earlier phone call had suggested.
Now that Phil had solid digital evidence to back up the phone that he mistrusted at the best of times, the uncanny reality of these lucky occurrences reasserted themselves in full. There was no way any of this could be circumstantial, not to someone as unfortunate as himself.
Casting aside his concerns for the time being, Phil decided to indulge in some quality time in his favourite online world. The latest patch was downloaded almost instantaneously by the launcher and much to his satisfaction the next thing he knew he was sucked in.
Even he had to admit that it wasn't the most fruitful or exciting voyage he'd ever navigated with his keyboard. It was that time of day when all the usual players were heading to bed and all the recluses from the other side of the world had yet to wake up. Still, to him this was a good thing in so much as it prevented him from wasting hours at a time completely engrossed.
He was hunting deer for the sheer fun of it when he spotted another player approaching him upon the horizon. Their movements were strange and erratic, as if someone were controlling them after a heavy bout of drinking. There was no doubt about it though, they were definitely heading in Phil's direction.
Phil finished off scavenging a previously reluctant piece of venison and cautiously approached the newcomer. They were a particularly low level upon inspection and had no rights being in this zone, had they got lost?
'Hello!' they typed, and started an impromptu dance on the spot.
'Can I help you?' Phil asked after they had ceased their movement.
They didn't respond immediately, causing an awkward staring contest to begin between the two avatars. Phil was about to stop wasting his time and head elsewhere when the next message finally came through.
'We're coming for you Phil, but you need to get out of there. They know that we're on our way.'
Phil blinked, an action not reflected by his own avatar which stood staring at this newcomer with the same blank expression. 'Who are they? Who are you? What are you talking about?'
'It's Annika, we're on route to Earth and I knew that I'd find you on here eventually. I have no other way of contacting you and it would appear that Star Command has gotten wind of our betrayal and plans to beat us to you.'
'Star Command? I thought you worked for Star Command? I don't...'
'Please, just listen, Captain.' Annika interrupted. 'We don't have time to discuss this, they could track us down at...'
With that the avatar was gone, and Phil found himself alone in a field. Judging from what he had just heard he didn't think it was connection problems that had caused it.
He stared at the screen blankly for a moment before scrolling through the conversation history, his head trying to register everything he had just read. Why would Star Command be after Annika? Was it the whole crew that was involved? It became very apparent that he would have to leave very soon indeed, lest someone track him down before the crew could.
A knock came on the door that sent a chill through him, had they arrived aleady?
'Who is it?' he called out hesitantly, trying to compose his voice and failing miserably.
He was greeted by nothing but silence, which only served to increase his sweaty palm issue. Were they going to break the door down if he didn't answer? Phil suddenly had images of an armed SWAT team descending upon his apartment and felt his heart trying to escape his chest in protest.
The knock came again, this time slightly more insistent. Surely if it was the armed men of his imagination they would have been more authoritative than this?
'Who is it?' he asked again, shocked to find irritation in his tone rather than fear.
'Me, señor Jones. Forgot key!'
Phil stared over at the key bowl and discovered there was indeed a second set of keys there. Letting out a sigh of relief he crossed the room and unlocked the door to let the cleaner in.
It was amazing how quickly a homely and diminutive old woman can be transformed when armed with a gun and pointing it in your general direction.
'Someone has been receiving messages they shouldn't have been, Mr. Jones.'
Phil stared down the barrel of the loaded gun and promptly wet himself. 'What do you want from me?' he managed to squeak, his eyes fixated on the hovering death mere inches away.
'The Human Genome folks were most keen to let you live in indolent peace, controlling your every whim by sating it immediately and having you forget all about your little space journey. It would appear that certain others had a different idea, and for that intrusion you must pay.'
In some tiny detached part of his head that wasn't screaming, Phil couldn't help but notice that in addition to looking distinctly unlike a cleaner, the accent had completely shifted to the tones of a stone cold killer. Not that this observation was going to do him any good of course.
'I haven't done anything!' he finally wailed, realising that this probably wasn't the most heroic thing to say.
The woman gave him a look of disgust and her finger started to ease its way further down the trigger.
Then the phone rang, and she froze. It chirped away merrily, completely oblivious to the tense life-or-death situation that surrounded it.
She tipped the gun slightly to the left, refusing to let it leave its target entirely. 'Answer it.'
Phil slowly crossed the distance to the phone and picked it up in his shaking hands. 'Hello?'
'Hello there Mr. Jones! It's Terry Stevens here, from the gym?'
Phil nodded, before realising that he was on the phone.
'Anyway, I was wondering if you had a moment to discuss something really odd that happened to me the other night.'
He gulped, realising th
ere was a small window of opportunity here, no matter how crazy. 'Sure Terry, what is it you wish to discuss?' he replied, staring directly at the increasingly sour-looking woman.
'I was minding my own business and cycling home from work when I think... I think I was abducted.'
Phil tried to keep the surprise off his face and failed miserably. 'What happened?'
'I know, it sounds crazy. There was this big light and then I remember being in this weird fluid and these guys telling me to cancel your gym subscription, imagine that?'
He stared at the gun and smiled nervously. 'Yeah, imagine that.'
'Well, anyway.' Terry continued, oblivious to the situation. 'I was wondering if this had anything to do with all that talk of yours about being ready for something. Is some government agency after you or is this all just one crazy dream that I had?'
Realising that his answer would determine whether he would get shot or not, Phil chose to extend his life that little bit longer. 'That's some crazy dreaming you've been having, Terry.' he replied, forcing a chuckle that stuck in his throat and descended into spluttering. 'There's no government after me and no secret conspiracy.' he managed, continuing to stare at the Agent with the loaded gun. 'I'll catch you over at the gym later, until then!'
He set the receiver down with a positive chime as it entered its cradle and then continued to stare at his fate in silence.
'Now, slowly make your way toward my position with no sudden movement, we're going to take a little trip back to the Human Genome research station.'
Back to where Hanniman and the rest of his cronies were, back to the people who had used him as a human guinea pig.
'But what if...'
'No words!' the little woman hissed, aiming the gun a little lower. 'They simply want you alive, they didn't specify in what condition.'
Phil knew enough of physics and biology to determine that the gun was aimed squarely at one of his kneecaps. He suspected that this nice lady wouldn't miss should he open his mouth again.
'Much better. Now be cooperative and make your way toward me and I'll try and make this as painless as possible.'
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