In Favour of Fools: A Science Fiction Comedy (These Foolish Things Book 1)

by J Battle

  ‘Y’know; looking after Mrs. Masters and that.’

  There was no response, apart from the frown, but he was always frowning at me, so I had no idea if it could be called a response. Unless it was an escalation in his frowns from defcon stage two: did you really say that? To defcon stage three: you are a waste of those pants. I just hoped he wouldn’t move on to defcon four: right, I’ve had enough, I’m going to kill you!

  ‘What would you say is your job title?’ I continued, as social etiquette seemed to be triumphing over survival instinct.

  He put down his burger, and wiped his mouth. I knew I’d gone too far.

  ‘I’m a facilitator,’ he said, quietly.

  I wanted to tell him that I had my own facilitator, but I didn’t think he’d be impressed.

  ‘I see. When did you start facilitating? What qualifications did you need?’

  ‘I think it’s time for us to go and stand in a queue.’

  Probably a good idea if we stood in different lines, I thought.

  An hour later, the line moved forward one pace, and then it stopped for another hour.

  Eventually the nightmare was over and we reached the squirtbooth, just in time for the new one to begin.

  At last, we arrived on Greenhaven, with my particles mostly intact. I guess you never know how much damage is done to your body in each squirt, until the day you arrive at your destination as a cheese and ham sandwich.

  ‘I’m going to make a few calls. You do whatever it is you do, and we’ll meet back here in two hours.’

  No ‘how’s that for you?’ or ‘do you have any better ideas?’ He just assumed that I’d go along with whatever he said, which was correct, but that doesn’t make it right, does it?

  I walked over to the booking desk to work my magic whilst Strange strode off full of purpose and intent. I wish I could do that; not everyone can, it seems.

  The guy at the desk was reading a book. It must have been a very good book as he found it hard to drag himself away from it to attend to me. I did wonder if it was my book.(Our book. N.F.) ‘Excuse me,’ I tried.

  Very, very slowly, he put his book down and looked up at me. I could see him struggling with the mammoth task of thinking up a response so, in a fit of generosity, I helped him.

  ‘I’m looking for this man. Have you seen him?’ I showed him a picture of Masters on my wrist-top.

  ‘This is a tourist information desk, sir.’ He was finally up to speed.

  ‘I know; there’s a sign above you head.’ He looked up, as if he’d never noticed it before. ‘Still, have you seen this man?’ I knew it was a long shot, but he could have tried.

  ‘Would Sir like a brochure covering the various sights available to him during his visit? Or perhaps Sir would like to purchase an emergency survival pack?’ I’m not really sure why he’d switched to the third person, but I wasn’t about to let him off that lightly.

  ‘I have some money here which I will be happy to give to you for information concerning the whereabouts of this man.’

  Given that he had probably never been offered a bribe before, and his significant lack of interest previously, he responded with commendable alacrity to my offer.

  ‘Let me have another look, Sir.‘ He studied the screen intently and there was something about the way he screwed up his face that showed how hard he was trying to come up with the right answer.

  ‘Sorry, I don’t recognise him.’ There were tears in his eyes.

  ‘Thanks for trying,’ I said, and gave him some money anyway; for his trouble. I know; I’m a fool to myself, but that’s just how I am.

  As I walked away from his desk, it struck me that I had no idea what to do next. How do you find someone who doesn’t want to be found on an alien planet with maybe two hundred thousand humans spread across its vast continents? See, there’s no obvious answer, is there?

  I wandered outside, and rushed straight back inside. The heat! You wouldn’t believe it; it was like walking into a furnace.

  How does anyone function in that heat?

  I was still lounging around the concourse when Strange came back.

  ‘How did you do?’

  ‘Not quite there,’ I replied; not wanting to admit to my failure.

  ‘Well; not to worry,’ he said; which caused my worry levels to jump. ‘I’ve made a few calls and I know where he is.’

  ‘That’s great news.’ It was great news, I thought. I can go home, I thought. Whoopee, I thought.

  ‘We can squirt over there right now.’

  ‘We? You don’t need me now you’ve found him. I’ll just leave you to do whatever it is you do. Goodbye and...’

  I stopped because he was shaking his head with that ‘you’ve got it all wrong’ look on his face.

  ‘We’re both going. I need you with me.’

  ‘But why? There’s nothing else I can offer.’

  He looked around the concourse, his eyes hidden by his sunglasses.

  ‘Let’s find a bar and have a drink. We need to talk.’

  I felt my insides turn to water. Twice in my life before that point has someone told me ‘we need to talk’, and it’s never worked out well. Not for me, anyway. It doesn’t matter if it’s not my fault, if it’s not about me. I’m sorry, but if it’s my heart that’s bleeding, and I’m the one crying in the corner, then it is about me.

  Enough of the melodrama. We found a bar; plastic and charmless, and it had a nice range of exotic beers. Strange told me to grab a table whilst he chose the beer.

  I sat at the table and waited; feeling tense and nervous and ready to run at the slightest provocation.

  I sank the first half of the pint in one go and stared deep into its wonderful goldenness.

  ‘I have a plan, and to make it work, I need your help. Ben knows me well, but he doesn’t know you. If you approach him, his guard will be down.’

  I wanted to say that this has nothing further to do with me, thanks for the pint and goodbye, and then stride forcefully from the bar.

  ‘What’s the plan?’ Was what I actually said.

  ‘Ben is selling a batch of gil-juice, to the highest bidders, and I’ve just made the highest bid, under an assumed name, of course. When you go and meet him to seal the deal, we’ll get both Ben and the gil-juice.’

  ‘What will happen to Masters?’

  ‘Nothing to do with you. That’s between me, Mrs. Masters and Ben. You’re a diversion.’

  ‘How long have you known about this?’ Things were beginning to click into place. I can be slow, but I usually get there in the end.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You haven’t just thought this plan up since you’ve been here, have you? Has this been your aim from the start? To use me to entrap him so you can rob him and kill him? I’m not going to be a party to that; not at all. I’m leaving and there is nothing you can do to stop me.’

  If I had fitted my actions to my words and strode forcefully out of the bar, I might have got away with it. But I hesitated as if I expected Strange to grab me and forcefully restrain me; may be throw me to the ground and crush my ribs with one heavy boot. In the end, he didn’t need to touch me. All it took was a slight shake of his head, the removal of his sunglasses, and a few softly spoken words.

  ‘Stay where you are, Phil.’ I did. ‘Calm yourself down.’ I couldn’t. ‘If you will listen to me for a moment, I’ll explain the situation to you.’ I listened.

  ‘You are in a very precarious position. And so are your sister, your mother, and your father. And not just from me. You are aware of the interest of Dart and Co? Of course you are. If you help me in this task, not only will there be no danger to you, or your family, from me; I will also intercede with Dart on your behalf; there’s plenty to go around. If, however, you jeopardise this operation in any way, then I’m sure I don’t have to say anymore.’

  He didn’t; I knew that I was stuck in this mess without a hope of escape.

  When Mrs. Masters came to see me, sayin
g that her suspicions were aroused by my tardy bill delivery, was that just a ruse? Was her invite to her home part of that? Exactly when did they start playing me? Was this endgame in place from the very beginning?

  I guessed that I would never know.

  But, far more important to me, how long could I run with these animals and still expect to keep my beautiful hide in one piece?

  Chapter 36 - Then the body & now we're all in this together, aren't we?

  Strange told me the details and timeline of the plan, and insisted that I follow instructions to the letter. The threats were implicit in every word he spoke.

  He left me alone then; he didn’t explain where he was going, but I assumed he was arranging for back up, or maybe a big gun. I had an hour to kill, so I went back to the bar. The thing about lifeless, soulless, plastic bars is that no-one talks to you; I like that in my drinking establishments.

  I drank three pints, and felt a little better. If I’d had time, I’d have had more to drink, and would have felt proportionately better. But I was on a schedule, and if I didn’t do what I was supposed to do, at the right time... well you know the rest.

  With my bag slung over my shoulder, I gathered together all the courage I could muster and squirted to the hotel where Masters was apparently staying. I gasped as I stepped out into the clear, oven-hot air. It was only fifty metres to the double glass doors of the hotel, but I was drenched before I was half way there. Then I shivered as the hotel’s AC chilled the sweat on my skin. I checked my wrist-top; I had ten minutes before I was supposed to meet Masters, in his room. Not enough time for another pint, though maybe a shot would take the edge off my tension.

  Suitably fortified, I made my decision. I wasn’t going to be a pawn in the hands of Strange and Mrs. Masters any longer. I was my own man and I was certain that my association with them would end badly. My only alternative was to throw myself at the mercy of Masters; he was a powerful man. If I could prove my worth to him, he could protect me and my family from them and from Dart. I just needed to tell him the truth.

  It seemed like a decisive plan, and that had me worried.

  Indecision is more my style, but look where that had got me.

  I went to the desk to check the location of Masters’ room. When it appeared that the young person managing the station was either reluctant or unable to give me the requested directions, I checked the map on the wall and guided myself along the corridor to his room.

  I knocked and waited, as you do. Then I knocked again, and waited a bit more. When I placed my hand on the door, it swung open all on its own, with a definite creak. Now, I’ve seen this in a hundred films, and it never ends well.

  I stood there for a long moment, trying to work up the courage to walk on into the room, and not run for my life. In the end I just took a small step forward, then another, and I was inside; quietly I shut the door behind me.

  I found myself in a short corridor, leading past a small bathroom and wardrobe into the main bedroom. In the centre of the room was a large comfy-looking bed, and in the centre of the large comfy-looking bed was a large, not at all comfy man. He was dead. I could tell he was dead even before I approached the body. Something about the big hole in his chest and the smell of burnt flesh; I’m quick like that. I reached over and held his wrist; it was still warm, despite the ferocious AC, but there was no pulse. It was Masters and it seemed strange to see him for the first time in the flesh, so to speak. I walked closer to his head and saw the vials sticking out of each nostril. An odd touch, I thought.

  Just about then, panic set it. Maybe it was guilt about my intention to betray them, or perhaps it was the fear that had been bubbling below my conscious level ever since I first met Strange. Whatever it was, I was absolutely convinced that I would be blamed for the state Masters was now in. No matter what excuse I might come up with, there was no doubt in my mind that Strange would rip my head off and use it as an ash tray.

  Or the police were already on their way.

  Which is pretty much where you came in.

  Now, can I just say this? You know I’ve been OK so far, because this has all been past tense, and I’m telling you the story, so I must still be here.

  That all changes from this moment on; now, we’re in uncharted waters, so to speak, and anything could happen, and I might do something silly and die on you, so, if you see me about to do something silly, just shout out, or call me, or email me, or anything that will stop me from hurting my beautiful and quite delicate body.

  I feel so much better knowing you have my back.

  Chapter 37 - Now it’s looking at me

  So, here I am now, after escaping from Masters' hotel room, with its added dead body feature, and I'm working on outwaiting Strange.

  There’s still so sign of him, or the police, and it’s been nearly three hours now. Both suns are high in the sky and there is an annoying noise coming from my coat that sounds very much like an alarm. I’m not going to look at the control panel in my inside breast pocket because I don’t want to know that the temperature is exceeding its safety parameters, and that, at any minute, the coat might fail.

  I am a little worried that my heavy duty boots are starting to get a little tacky. That probably means they are melting, which can’t be good in the long term.

  If he doesn’t leave soon, I’m going to have to take a chance, and make a run for it and hope I get to the squirtbooth before he sees me. With my sticky foot-ware, that may be a forlorn hope.

  A couple of minutes ago, I looked away from the hotel for a moment, because the heat shimmer was making my eyes go funny. I wish I hadn’t; if I’d kept my eyes focussed where they should have been, I wouldn’t have seen it. At first I thought my eyes were still being affected by the haze, but no; it was a Sand Mirage. It doesn’t look much; just a swirl of sand rising a metre or so into the air and spinning around itself. Something to do with the heat, the sand, and local atmospheric electrical conditions creates a sort of mini hurricane, which is not only classed as a living creature, it may also be sentient, though no decision on that is likely any time soon as it would impact on our ability to exploit this wonderful place.

  Twenty-one planets have so far been settled by Mankind, and no intelligent life has been found on any of them. Not until someone stumbled across one of these things. It’s quite an uplifting story, really. He was lost in the desert; without a hat or a mac, he had nothing but a drawn out, unpleasant death to look forward to. Then a Sand Mirage led him across the sand to a nearby human settlement.

  That’s how I heard the story, the first time. The second time, I got the rest of it. How, a week later, when the monthly supply plane landed at that very same settlement, they found that everyone was dead; cause unknown.

  Whatever this Sand Mirage wants, it’s not going to lead me to safety; no way.

  **********

  I knew I could outwait him. Strange may be big and grim, and as ugly as they come, but he hasn’t got the patience of a born hunter like me. And the police, what happened to them? Have I got it all wrong; yet again?

  The Sand Mirage has gone, and I’m sucking on my last mint, watching his tall, arrogant figure glide out of the doors of the hotel, holding a small brown bag in one hand, and he is continuing on to the squirtbooth, almost bumping into two much smaller men in garishly bright clothes that are more suitable for this heat than his dark suit.

  It isn’t their sartorial tastelessness that concerns me, however; I recognise them, and that isn’t a good thing. They are associates of Masters; the sort he might use for extreme situations.

  Is this an extreme situation? Well, given the heat and the danger, and the fear, this probably exceeds the minimum requirements for such a definition.

  With Strange, there is always an outside chance that I could talk my way out of this. With these guys, that is never going to be an option. They would shoot first and think later; maybe not think at all; it’s not really part of their skillset.

  Strange pauses at t
he entrance to the squirtbooth, and seems to nod at the person who strides past him; then he’s gone, and, despite everything, the world feels a little better.

  The newcomer is the police, and I feel a small glimmer of satisfaction that I've got at least that bit right. She is dressed in tight shorts and a brief t-shirt that gives up on its efforts to cover her voluptuous body somewhere above her navel. I know she is the force of Law and Order because that is what it says on the sash stretched diagonally across her body. I really, really want to give myself up and ask her to do whatever she wants with me, but even I can see how stupid that would be, so I don't. I just stand here in the baking heat and watch her float out of my life.

  I shake my head to see if that will help me focus on the job in hand.

  Right; so this is the plan. In a minute, I’m going to race after Strange and overcome my fear of squirtbooths, and squirt to the Squirtport, and get off this Godforsaken planet before someone blames me for something I haven’t done and decides to cause unnecessary harm to my beautiful body.

  Of course I’m going to wait until he’s gone before I enter the booth. That is a conversation I can wait to have.

  When I think enough time has passed, I walk as quickly as possible across the hot sand and on to the concrete path that links the device to the hotel, I know that my melting boots are leaving evidence of my footprints behind me, but I'm not going to look.

  Right, I’m here now, and I’m steeling myself to go back in to this blasted machine, but what choice do I have; I could really do with another drink, because all this panicking sort of sobers you up.

  Chapter 38 - Now feeling dirty to be a man

  It’s not working. The blasted squirtbooth isn’t working, and I’m stuck here, and it’s getting hotter.

  Strange must have disabled it before he squirted and there is now no way for me to get to the closest Squirtport. It’s two thousand kilometres away from here and I have no idea how to get hold of local ground transport; do they even have cars here? I could go back into the hotel, but I might meet the two badly dressed men, or the superbly dressed woman. As I said, I know the men; they are imported scum hired by Masters’ gang, and such a meeting is unlikely to go well for me. And, much as I'd like to get up close and personal with the police officer, I know that I'd feel a fool in the morning.