Cosmic Tales 4: The Unexpected Guest

COSMIC TALES #4: THE UNEXPECTED GUEST

  By

  Richard C. Parr

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  PUBLISHED BY

  Cosmic Tales #4: The Unexpected Guest

  Copyright (C) 2015 by Richard C. Parr

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  This particular copy of the eBook series Cosmic Tales is licensed for the enjoyment of everyone. It may be freely distributed to others without conditions. Thank you for supporting the author by downloading and reading this story.

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  The Unexpected Guest

  General Dreadener took his single malt and swilled the liquid around the brim of the glass, taking intermittent sips and contemplating his career. It had been an unsteady ride - demotion, promotion, moving sideways, leaping a few ranks, dodgy deals and battlefield scars, all the way up to his present position. The title 'General' did not sound authoritarian enough. Not like Fleet Commander or Indigenous Destroyer. Although his title carried an air of administration and incessant paperwork, at least he wasn't Desk Sergeant or First Table Warrior. His aide Secretary Capnee was more than willing to fill in where he wasn't, especially with tax returns, and for that he was secretly thankful.

  Dreadener mused over the wide open expanse of space that greeted him through the giant viewing window of his study. Somewhere out there was a man he desperately wanted to capture and bring back under his control. A man with the prowess of an eagle and the potential to force entire worlds into surrender with his absurd cunning. A man who would often change a hundred for a fifty, a twenty and two tens. He knew it was impossible to dispatch a fleet half way across the galaxy just to seek out the renegade, but Dreadener was a man who could make things happen. He had invaded and mined an entire planet to find the last remaining cigarette card to complete his collection, so why couldn't he twist some arms, break a few ankles and pull some strings?

  He sipped his malt and watched the twinkling array of stars. Capturing the renegade would be the climax of his career. To retire successful with riches, with his feet washed by formidable hands and his hands washed by expert feet. What a thought. All he needed was a fleet of his own and his prize would be within reach.

  He relaxed in the crooked recliner and read a file packed to the brim spilling accounts all over the floor. The pages were worn and slightly torn in places. Most of the stories were the same, of how the renegade pilot had swindled, lied, stolen and bluffed his way to a position of power, only to bolt at the thought of serving another term in a war on an uncharted planet. Although he craved adventure and the unknown, Dreadener knew this man had a weakness for carrying out revenge, a penchant for holding grudges and a constant need for money. He never had enough of the stuff, and it wouldn't be long before he was penniless, handing himself over to the galactic military.

  Dreadener read a page detailing a list of the pilot's various incidents:

  "With reference to Captain Phoenix Wingclipper, we understand the following events took place:

  "- One of Wingclipper's soldiers was desperate to defecate. Close to the battlefront, Wingclipper ordered the man to go discretely. Unaware the place was laced with explosives, the soldier pooped directly on to a landmine. Witnesses recalled seeing a man fly several hundred feet into the air with his underwear around his ankles before landing deep inside enemy territory. Wingclipper considered his mission to infiltrate enemy lines complete, withdrew his men and embarked on a two day binge. The missing soldier swapped sides."

  "- Having lost his ship, Wingclipper decided to hitch-hike his way back to base. Thinking he had found a major road, Wingclipper pitched his tent by the side and waited for traffic to arrive, only to discover he had camped by a runway causing incoming aircraft to be diverted and outgoing aircraft to remain grounded. When questioned he claimed to be a local shepherd."

  "- Wingclipper ate fries in the soldier's canteen, followed by a tumbler of salt. When hospitalised, Wingclipper claimed he did it because he forgot to put salt on his fries. A similar incident occurred with a bottle of medicine. After swallowing, he jumped up and down, according to his robotic assistant, because he forgot to shake the bottle. He threw up all over a superior officer."

  "- Wingclipper convinced a staff cook that toenails were nutritious and packed with essential vitamins, resulting in staff food unknowingly contaminated with toenails for two weeks."

  "- Wingclipper broke into the infirmary and stole what he thought were painkillers. They were amphetamines. He piloted a pod bike into a shop window."

  "- Wingclipper drunkenly flew the wrong ship on several occasions."

  "- Wingclipper led an assault force of ten men to infiltrate a building and rescue hostages. Wingclipper targeted the wrong building and infiltrated a wedding."

  "- Wingclipper denied he had not shaved while sporting a beard in front of superior officers. In a related incident, Wingclipper was caught naked with a beard surrounded by hairy tree people from another planet, wearing a small crown and carrying a sceptre. Wingclipper claimed to be wearing clothes."

  "- During a period of staff underperformance and low food stocks, it was discovered that Wingclipper had lit joints and placed them in the ventilation system."

  "- While in rehab, Wingclipper saw a psychotherapist, causing the psychotherapist to refer herself to another psychotherapist, who referred himself to another psychotherapist."

  "- While on duty, Wingclipper was caught kissing and whispering sweet nothings to his own reflection."

  With a heavy sigh, Dreadener threw the file pile and watched it land strewn in segments across his study. It didn't matter - his secretary Capnee would retrieve the paperwork. All of a sudden Dreadener's reinforced study doors blustered open and he nearly choked on his cigar. Capnee approached like a raging racing madman out of breath and sense.

  "This had better be important," Dreadener eschewed over his consumed cigar.

  "Sir. There's a ship trying to land in the docking bay. You have to see this."

  Dreadener reluctantly leaned forward, took a few deep engulfing lung fulls and rose from his body-shaped seat. This had better be important, or Capnee would face an additional hour of sifting through undiscovered and unsorted bundles of administrative treasure.

  When they reached the viewing platform, the two men stood agape as they assessed the docking bay's open entry hole. A large metallic lipstick case fired its retro engines in preparation for an unsatisfactory landing. Legs dropped from its compartments and the ship landed off centre, hissing with smoke and burning a nearby space fighter prepped for takeoff.

  "Do you see, sir?"

  "I can see...there is paper that needs picking up in my study. Off you go, Capnee."

  "Right away, sir."

  Dreadener placed his hands and face against the glass with all the disbelief of a falling man. He watched a hatch open, a ramp materialise and the rusty, rugged features of a foe carrying a nearly empty bottle of beer form. The foe replied to his posture of falling surprise with a half-hearted, poorly rehearsed military salute. Soldiers immediately surrounded him and Dreadener marched off to greet his equally treasured and hated prize.

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  "I've been waiting for this moment for so long. So, you finally decided to give up and hand yourself in?"

  Wingclipper, escorted by two armed personnel, walked side by side with Dreadener.

  "I feel I lack a purpose without my position in the military. I want my old rank back. I want my old space fighter and I want my group of officers. It gets very lonely out there in that huge infinite expanse. I think I nearly killed someone. My ship is old and uncomfortable. The men were great company and I miss them."

  "What do you mean you nearly kill
ed someone?"

  "Well, I'm not sure, Big G. It doesn't matter. They were not important, so no harm done."

  "Who was it?"

  "Some king who owned some planetary system with a hand in financial affairs and a top seat on the galactic trade council and a potential forerunner for president. He was the last of his species. You wouldn't know him. Like I said, nobody important."

  "How can you not be sure you killed him?"

  "His legs were still moving but his face looked dead."

  "Did you check his pulse?"

  "I couldn't, Big G. His torso was missing. Got any new hobbies these days?"

  "Wingclipper, you really are something else."

  "A side dish?"

  "A treacherous, tearaway scoundrel and a wicked deserter who betrayed his men! You will be dealt with swiftly and with justice."

  "Anything else?"

  "Good at cards."

  "Huh?"

  "That's what it says in your profile comments. It should be about four pages long, detailing all your career successes and undertaken missions. Fifteen years of service, and all it says is that you were good at cards. Like I said, Wingclipper. You are nobody important."

  "Then why have you been sending entire fleets across the galaxy to track me down?"

  Dreadener drew a blank, huffed and then grinned, readjusting his posture and his stance into a more commanding position. The two soldiers seized Wingclipper by his arms and marched him in the direction of the holding cells. Over his shoulder, Wingclipper shouted, "Tell me to shut up if I'm wrong, but aren't the holding cells in the other direction? Have these recruits even been shown around your ship yet?"

  Dreadener snapped his fingers and the soldiers immediately performed an about turn, taking a smirking, beer breath Wingclipper the right way.

  Once Wingclipper's uniform had been searched, his utility belt confiscated, his papers for immediate return to military action forcibly signed and his buttocks pried from the glued toilet seat in his holding cell - much to the amusement of the recruits - he was ushered through into the cosy surroundings of a well maintained, polished, vibrant and scented study full of shelved books collected from numerous conquered worlds. Dreadener sat by the fireplace and opposite Wingclipper who was filing his nails and holding them up against the light. Dreadener nursed a glass of single malt against his chest and sank deep into his chair.

  "How's the war going, Big G? Are we winning?"

  "You know how it is. Same old story. No end in sight."

  "There never is an end when it's fighting against terrorists or for oil."

  "That's the general idea. Train and arm the terrorists, then come back for the arms we sold to them, at the same time invading their planet. With oil, invade the neighbouring planets to secure the resource, then take the resource and invade their planet."

  "I see the same tactics are still in use."

  "The people...I mean the enemy never catches on."

  "I couldn't imagine anything worse than fighting a war that is designed to go on indefinitely."

  "Really, Wingclipper? Have you ever had to battle against bread to stop a spreading yeast infection?"

  Dreadener drained his glass and watched Wingclipper grimace.

  "I once gunned down an attacker. Thought it was a currant and raisin loaf. Turned out to be an innocent fruit cake who faked its identity to support the bread's losing battle. Apparently it is easy to confuse the two because they are so alike. I couldn't tell the difference. If only I knew the variation in texture. The event was tragic and I had to be brought back to base and placed on bed rest. I nearly quit the military."

  "Sorry, Big G."

  "It was many years ago. As for your debt, that cannot be forgotten or forgiven. In all my years in the military I have never met someone who has perpetually lied, fooled, stolen and cheated his way to the top. You are the epitome of scum. You are the small dried piece of crap that sticks to the rim of the toilet bowl no matter how many times you flush, and the only way to get rid of it is with hot water, a firm brush and a strong wrist."

  "You could say I have plenty of resilience."

  "Now you have the nerve to show up in that dilapidated cosmic bullet case without requesting permission to land on my ship. I would have you court-martialled and deported back to your miserable little planet in the remote regions, where you will be stranded for the rest of your days amongst the rest of your trouble-making kind, short changing people for a round of drinks and betting on squirrel races."

  "Look, Big, G. Sir. I can understand your overwhelming upset and for my history of reckless, heroic and immoral behaviour. It is in my military duty to be honest and sincere. I got tired of being dispatched on missions with substandard soldiers half way across the galaxy just to acquire slightly cheaper tobaccos and barter for ownership of land, rather than fighting the real wars over drugs, resources and getting back the weapons we'd sold to tribes. I felt used as some kind of arms dealer. You made me feel like a Westerner. From now on I want to genuinely act as a force of good, as a great hero who can better the lives of others. I want to invade the big planets, not be involved in petty trade affairs. Put me back on the front line, in command of a fleet, developing the strategies, choosing the tactics. I want to be in a mature position, listening to the sound of shit blowing up."

  "You slept with my wife."

  "We were awake."

  "It was unforgivable. Is that why you fled? Because you couldn't face up to what you had done? We divorced."

  "I made a terrible mistake, Big G."

  "We don't stay in touch. I only want to know if she's happier."

  "Yes, she's much happier now."

  "I can forgive some of the events on file; however most acts are despicable and worthy of prison time. There has to be a significant sentence served, even if you are placed under arrest and spend the allotted time working on my ship. I am sure you can be a useful assistant to Capnee, making sure he remembers to staple and read the memos. Or perhaps you can train the recruits, testing their rigour and will to the extreme, creating lifelike scenarios of danger and seeing how they respond. Separate the professionals from the misfiring muppets. Or perhaps you would be more useful in a high up, empowering position with great responsibility. Can you make tea?"

  There was heavy knocking on the study door. Dreadener excused himself and went over to see what the loud banging was about. He opened the door and a soldier immediately shoved his way to the front of a developing throng of men. Dreadener watched the commotion unfold as a queue of recruits struggled to get the attention of their superior, barging their way through and causing a ruckus. The shouts grew to an unbearable level, and Dreadener's voice hollered through the hallway.

  "Enough of this nonsense!"

  The recruits stood motionless, soundless and open mouthed. Dreadener stepped out and parted the sea of men with his presence.

  "Is someone going to tell me what the hell is going on, or do I have to court-martial the whole lot of you?"

  A recruit sprang out from the crowd.

  "Sir. There's an unwanted cargo on board."

  "There always is. Half of you are using drugs."

  "But, sir. It's a monkey."

  Inside the study, a human hand lowered itself down into the fireplace dangling a hook. Wingclipper saw the prompt, gathered the spare sheets of paper and placed them in the spilling file from Dreadener's desk. Then he fastened the file to the hook, securing it in place and waiting for it to be raised out of sight.

  Outside, Dreadener paced around with unsettled indecision.

  "Sir, there's a monkey."

  Dreadener froze and clenched the collar of the recruit who had spoken. Lifting him off the ground, he breathed into his face.

  "It's not a monkey."

  "No, sir."

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  The crowd of men ran to the canteen and watched from a distance as the crazed monkey threw cutlery, utensils, pots and pans in a wild fury. Only Dreadener was unfazed
and advanced with authority, knocking away the barrage of flying metal with a masterful hand. The monkey panicked and ran into the kitchen where the chef dropped his knife and the kitchen staff screamed and ran for safety.

  One recruit emerged from the bathroom, went to wash his hands and realised something was odd. He looked around, wondering if the staff had disappeared on a meeting. He looked again through the gaps in the metal racks and saw a monkey baring its teeth at him. He instinctively reached for the knife rack and took out the largest blade, creeping slowly towards the defensive creature. He made chirping and calming noises that had no effect on the monkey's demeanour, stumbled on a pan and knocked a stack of containers across the unforgiving ground, sending out a strong clattering alarm. He looked again and saw an ominously beautiful female reptilian aiming a pistol directly between his eyes. He swallowed hard, dropped his knife and retreated.

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  "Reach higher up my arm with your hand, Phoenix, or I will drop you."

  "I'm trying, earth man. I can't make this chute any wider. Ow! Don't you ever trim your nails?"

  Wingclipper's legs dangled above the fireplace entrance and kicked mercilessly for a ledge to rest against. He grimaced and cursed as Elwood used his strength to hoist him upwards into the narrowest of gaps. Wingclipper used the sides of the chute to apply pressure and gain height while Elwood pulled with his limited might. They reached the circular hole at the top. The space opened out into a sizeable silver lined tube lit by rows of dim blue bulbs. Sparks flew and the occasional bulb flickered, creating dancing shadows.