by Drayton Alan
The squidmen noted this difference and even mentioned it once during the talks. The lieutenant covered by telling them they were merely happy and relaxed. Far from being suspicious, the squidmen took this imitation of the squid culture as a great compliment.
In every diplomatic encounter there is always at least one sticking point. Near the end of negotiations, the squidmen began arguing among themselves. Then one of the squidmen became upset and started screaming accusations at the humans. He accused them of unleashing a secret weapon upon their fleets and demanded that they immediately cease its use, and promise never to employ it in any future dealings or conflicts.
“I’m sorry, I’m not aware of such a weapon, can you expand on your description to give us an indication of the weapon’s nature and function so we might accurately identify it?” the lieutenant asked, still maintaining his superb mimicry of the captain.
“You would deny the weapon? It has overtaken nearly half of our fleet and you claim to know nothing. A human is behind it!” the squidmen accused.
“I can’t accept or deny anything if I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the lieutenant explained. “Perhaps if you described it?”
The squidmen looked at each other with fear and uncertainty, whatever this secret weapon was, it was something they could not come to terms with. A horror so powerful that it had pushed them toward peace and conciliation with the Coalition.
They didn’t have a word for it in their language so they tried pantomime. The only thing that made clear, was that squidmen were ill equipped to be mimes.
“I don’t understand what you are trying to say. I’m sorry,” the lieutenant said.
Finally, one of the squidman said, “Recording of terror, playback.”
The sound and image was faint on the video monitor at first but it gained in volume steadily. Soon the image cleared revealing a neat row of squidmen moving in unison screeching something together. The screeching wasn’t normal squidman speech but seemed an approximation of human words. Then the image zoomed in, revealing that in their midst, dancing and singing, was a single human leading them.
The squidman ambassadors squealed in horror as the sound and image became clear. They held their tentacles up to protect their eyes and hearing organs.
Now the audio could be clearly heard, it was the chorus.
I am a Pirate King!
And it is, it is a glorious thing
To be a Pirate King!
For I am a Pirate King!
You are!
Hurrah for our Pirate King!
And it is, it is a glorious thing
To be a Pirate King
It is!
Hurrah for our Pirate King!
Hurrah for the Pirate King!
The video finally gave a close-up of Frakes dancing with a row of squidmen, all squealing the lyrics in their best imitation of human singing.
The custodians gasped, relaxing the controls and causing the puppet captain’s reaction to appear extreme. Belle tried to correct the problem and pressed a combination of buttons she hoped would appear as shock, instead it overloaded one of the neuroelectrodes, setting up a chain reaction of extreme movements in the captain’s face. She quickly killed the power to the controllers and issued the reset command hoping to restore control. After going through every possible, and several impossible, human expressions in rapid succession the captain’s face went blank.
The squidmen could endure no more so they cut the video playback short.
Everyone was quiet a moment as the shock wore off.
The lieutenant’s mind scrambled for some explanation that would satisfy the squidmen, who were obviously without a clue as to what the true nature of singing and dancing were. The concept of entertainment wasn’t easy to explain to a culture that had nothing similar. To do something for sheer pleasure might be considered depraved. How do you tell an alien that rhythmic movement accompanied by screeching is enjoyable? Something that people would even pay to watch.
Especially when you consider that the squidmen had interpreted show tunes to be a pathogen. The squidmen actually believed humans had, for the first time, weaponized the genre of musical theatre.
“I see by your reaction,” the squidman said. “That your people, too, are horrified by the deployment of this heinous pathogen.”
Kale nodded the captain’s head in agreement, but the lieutenant shot him a look and shook his head no. So Kale changed the motion to a no, instead of a yes.
The squidmen were confused and waiting for some response. The lieutenant was about to speak when suddenly the captain said, “What is going on?” He had awoken!
Chapter 13
The custodians had not planned for this contingency. The captain looked down at the people beneath him and the squidmen directly across from him. He tried to move and realized he was connected to some sort of strange apparatus. The lieutenant held up his microphone and shook it hoping to communicate the situation. The captain looked at Nord, propped in the chair beside him, and Chopi made Nord’s head nod to help the captain understand. The light of realization dawned on him.
So he said, “At a moment like this I suggest we have the computer recap our progress thus far. That way we may be certain all subjects up until this point have been addressed. Then we can tackle the sticky ones that remain. If that meets your approval, Ambassador.”
“Agreed,” the lead squidman replied.
“Computer, review all points of discussion up until now, along with all agreements and any unresolved issues.”
The computer gave a review of the entire negotiation thus far and both sides seemed glad to have the chance to collect their thoughts. The captain, who had prepared thoroughly for this meeting, was happy to hear nearly every point of contention had been settled. Only the shocking revelation of Frakes and the squidman dance routines remained.
The captain, a man who wasn’t as much of an idiot as his actions might suggest, didn’t miss a beat.
“Allow me to explain, Ambassador. The sounds you hear and the rhythmic movements are not some strange adverse health condition as one might assume, but are in fact a strong statement of human culture and identity. It is a happy rejoicing, a vibration or shaking we humans do. A movement we have developed because we lack tentacles. Without the advantage of having a large quantity and versatility of limbs, similar to what the squidmen have, we’ve had to compensate by developing these primitive replicas, which we call dancing. I believe the squidmen who are imitating the movement are in fact showing us humans a form of pity.”
The squidmen didn’t react immediately to the captain’s explanation, but some were nodding and weaving, having heard an element of truth in his words. They conferred among themselves a moment until their leader made a movement cutting off discussion. He turned and faced the captain.
“We understand now,” the squidman ambassador said. “We have misinterpreted your cry for help and desire for advancement as a threat. We are a benevolent people to the disadvantaged species of the universe. Today has been a great day in opening the door to understanding between our two peoples. We have agreed to forgo the rest of these talks as unnecessary. Now that your attacks have been reinterpreted as a call for help, it would be unthinkable for us to continue hostile. It would be like doing harm to a sick child or infant.
“We apologize on behalf of our people. We will recommend a schedule of negotiations to determine appropriate war reparations and aid to help your poor disadvantaged species. Furthermore, we welcome your so-called dancing, along with the screaming that accompanies it, as we now see it for what it truly is—a forlorn longing for tentacles. Thank you. We are finished. Unless you have further points you wish to discuss?”
“No, I’m happy we have finally found a way to dwell together peacefully. Thank you.”
After a moment, the squidmen gave a command and teleported back to their ship.
There was a collective sigh of relief from the custodians and captain.
“Stand down, Commander,” the captain said. “You are not in danger. We’ve merely been transformed into some type of bizarre puppets by the custodial staff.”
Nord’s chair toppled from its perch and he landed feet first on the floor below. He looked around the room at the custodians and let out a low growl.
“Relax, Commander. I’m certain we will receive a detailed report about all of this in time. But it appears our diplomatic mission has been a success.”
“Better than that, you can view the recording, if you like, sir,” the lieutenant said.
The captain looked at the lieutenant and his custodians with what might have been admiration. Briefly, at least. Then he said, “Will someone please disconnect me from all of this rigging.”
***
The week that followed was one of celebration and honor. The captain was to be given the Coalition’s highest medal for his successful negotiation of peace. The officers on the ship held a solid week of celebration and the custodians got to clean up afterward.
When things had settled down, the captain met with Kale and the lieutenant in his office.
“So, Lou, I had time to view the entire recording of the peace negotiations. Let me say that was one of the most creative solutions I have ever seen.”
“Thank you, Captain. I can’t take credit for it. It was really Kale’s idea. Thanks to his puppeteering expertise, Tink’s amazing cybernetic skills, and a lot of dumb luck it even worked.”
“You did a fine job mimicking my voice, but I want to reward your department by giving everyone commendations and make good on my offer to sponsor young Kale here to the academy as I promised.”
Kale let loose a short squeal of delight and nearly jumped out of his chair.
“Before I do this I wanted to make sure you don’t have any reservations about the recommendation?” the captain asked.
“None at all, sir. Kale has been a model custodian.”
“Very well. So, Kale, I looked over the personnel records. It appears you will turn twenty-one in a few weeks. Since that is required for entrance, I shall wait until then before I write my letter. We can send him on his way after they accept it. Everyone agreed?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” Kale said.
“I will expect great things from you. You will represent not only me but every member of this crew while you are at the academy.”
“I’m certain he won’t disappoint us, sir,” the lieutenant said.
“Oh, one last matter, Kale. As you probably heard, Ensign Ronstadt was killed during an away mission last week. He was going to be our young Frederick in the play—it’s been a terrible blow to everyone involved. I’ve spoken with the audition judges about his replacement and they suggested you. I know you had auditioned for Samuel, but since you are a young fellow and have a fine tenor, we have chosen you for Frederic!”
“Frederic, sir? That’s wonderful! I mean, I’m sorry for Ensign Ronstadt’s passing. I will try my best to fill his shoes. I’m so excited, not that he died, of course. But, thank you, sir!”
“We will have our last few rehearsals this week starting Monday evening at nineteen-hundred hours in the auditorium at Falcon Station. That way everyone can get familiar with the performance venue. These rehearsals are mandatory. I’m sure the lieutenant will adjust your shifts so you will be able to attend.”
“Yes, sir, that will be no problem,” Lou said.
“It’s all settled then. We will see you Monday evening. Remember as one of the leads and this late in the schedule you can’t miss any rehearsals, understood?”
“Yes, sir! Understood,” Kale said.
“You are dismissed, gentlemen, and thank you once again,” the captain said as he stood up.
Kale and the lieutenant walked out of the room.
As they walked together back to the custodial shop, Kale was beside himself with excitement, but the lieutenant didn’t seem too enthused.
“You’re not happy how things turned out, sir?” Kale asked.
“Oh no, it’s not that, and congratulations on getting the part. I just think he could have done more for the custodial department since we just ended the war and saved countless lives. Commendations are nice, but I was hoping for some cash bonuses. All this business about the play overshadows the captain’s good sense.”
“You’re not a big fan of the play, sir?”
“I’m not keen on using entertainment for ship morale building in general. Especially when they use propaganda tools of the military-industrial complex for pacifying and pampering. You know, it only distracts them from seeing the true inequalities of the system.”
“Okkkay,” Kale said, not sure what had triggered this rant. He knew the man had issues with the Coalition’s command structure, but he wasn’t usually this vocal. “I didn’t know talking about the play would make you so upset. I’m sorry, I won’t mention it if it bothers you,” Kale said.
“No, please. I know I can be a wet blanket, but it’s okay, Kale —I’m sorry. I just got thinking about this whole situation and the big picture and got carried away.”
“Picture, sir?”
“Yes, your life view, do you settle for your own comfort and happiness, little picture, or are you making the entire cosmos a better place? Not the ship, the whole cosmic mess of people, stars, and everything in between. The big picture.”
“I guess, I would like to see both pictures, sir.”
“That’s good; when I was your age I felt that way too. But once you truly see the big-big picture, you will understand.”
“The big-big picture, sir?”
“Yeah, it’s even bigger. You see plays are a microcosm, or tiny universe. You can’t get much smaller picture than micro. So, plays encourage small picture thinking and that’s why they are propaganda tools for the military-industrial complex. It loves small picture thinking. Expand your mind, son; you won’t discover truth until you get a glimpse of the big-big picture.”
“I’ll keep an eye out for it, sir.” While Kale was all for a healthy life philosophy, the lieutenant’s big-big picture thing was out there.
“I’m boring you, I know. Sorry, but I see hope for you, Kale. You’re bright and there’s more to life than being an officer. I just want you to think about what happens after the academy. When they put you on a ship like this one and send you willy-nilly to every end of the known universe just to see what’s out there. Then, thirty years later, you find yourself alone, traveling through the universe putting up with the same petty crap you had to put up with when you were younger.”
“I’ll think about that, sir.”
“I know you will, son. Don’t get me wrong, plays in themselves aren’t bad, most people just fail to realize that all writers, including playwrights, are merely cogs in the giant propaganda machine designed to pacify humanity, keeping them entertained, while the hidden big shots behind the scenes manipulate the will and whim of the masses to do their bidding. But if you want to be in the play that’s fine with me.”
“Okay... thank you, sir.” Kale decided that talking about the play around the lieutenant wasn’t a good idea. The man had what Kale’s mother had called a viewpoint. One of those that he was likely to share when no one wanted to hear it.
***
The next few days seemed to fly by. To Kale, the mundane duties of cleaning floors, swabbing toilets, and wiping windows used to seem overwhelming; but now he found comfort in them for their pure and simple monotony. They left his mind free to wander. He went over his lines as he worked—cleaning allowed him to focus on rehearsing his part.
It was nice to have Nigel back to his old self, maybe even a bit improved; he seemed happier and less apt to point out dirt Kale had missed. Overall, Kale too, was enjoying his life on the starship Cosmos.
Before he knew it, it was Monday, and the
ship was back at Falcon Station and he was on his way to rehearsal. He was the only non-officer to have gotten a major part in the play. So, he had left a little early to be certain not to be late.
He’d asked Nigel to accompany him, but Nigel was busy, or that’s what he’d said. But he knew he just wasn’t interested in the play.
Kale had thought about asking Belle. He had been feeling a strong attraction to her, but he didn’t think she was interested. She was just being nice. Besides, he was nervous enough, he didn’t need the pressure of having her watching too.
As he was on his way to the auditorium, he cut through the market area of the station. To his surprise, he saw Idonna bartering with one of the produce vendors. She saw him and motioned for him to come over. When he arrived at her side, he found her in the middle of insulting the vendor’s produce, integrity, and mother, all in one sentence.
The vendor wasn’t insulted, but understood it was a bartering tactic, so she in turn insulted Idonna’s cooking, parentage, and culture.
Idonna seemed to enjoy the confrontation, so Kale waited patiently for them to finish.
Idonna finally agreed to buy the huge stalk of Dactian broccoli while telling the vendor she felt cheated and swindled because of the price. The vendor told her she was getting the best deal on Dactian broccoli she’d ever made, and that people in Idonna’s culture didn’t fully appreciate real quality. Then, the vendor explained that she’d only sold it to her hoping it might help advance her peoples culture.
Idonna left holding a big bag of the fresh broccoli and wearing a big smile.
“Dat was fun, I miss a good haggle. On my planet, a skilled haggler is held da same respect as a fine craftsman. And I’m one of da best!” Idonna bragged and laughed. “So, what you doing wandering ’round da station, young Kale?”
“I’m on my way to rehearsal, they are having it here in the auditorium. I think it’s over there if I read the map right.” Kale pointed to the right.
