The VMR Theory (v1.1) (22 page)

“Look, do you have to use an ugly word like ‘stole’? I mean, we really just wanted to borrow the ship for a while.” I paused. “Did you just say ‘Gwen’?”

“What callous beings they are to play upon friend Ken’s sympathies in this unwholesome manner,” Mickey observed.

Rosalee chuckled. “What a bunch of pencil-necked morons to imagine he has any.”

“Rosalee, you’re not helping.”

“Oh. Sorry, Ken.”

I told Xhia in a harsh voice, “I want to see her, Xhia. Put her on.”

“As you wish.” He disappeared.

My left hand was dangling down by my side, and Bunkie gave it a quick squeeze. “Be brave, sir!”

“Ask if you can watch when they torture her!” Rosalee crowed.

Harry had been thinking all this time. He tugged at my sleeve. “Ken, are you sure you want to talk to her? She might not be too happy when you tell her that you’re not going to throw your life away for her.” He shook his head. “Women are funny that way.”

“Harry,” I whispered back, “what’s our goal?”

He looked at me, puzzled. “To kill time until Blok can get the drive working?”

“Trust me. This will work.”

A few seconds later Gwen’s image appeared on the screen. “Ken, hello! We were just discussing you here.”

“Hi, Gwen.” I tried to think of something to say. “You, ah, look different.”

She touched her hair and pouted. “Are you saying you don’t like it?”

“No, no, you look fine. In fact, I dislike you less as a redhead. Excuse me, that just slipped out. What are you doing on board that ship?”

She winked at me. “Ken, in my business, what the client wants, the client gets—you know that. But things haven’t been easy for you. They told me about the shadur. Oh, you poor, poor dear! You must have been absolutely petrified. I know how you are around house pets.”

“Ah, right.” I gratefully accepted a handkerchief from Bunkie and mopped my forehead. “Did anyone explain the situation?”

She looked at me out of the comer of her eye. “They told me that you’ve been a bad, bad boy. And they want to cancel my contract as a result. I’m really not very happy with you, you know. But I’m sure the two of us can straighten this little misunderstanding out.”

“I mean, did they mention to you what I’ve done?”

“They said something about a battle cruiser they want back and an Operation Circe that you’re fouling up.” Gwen tilted her head to be sure I could see her profile. “Circe?” Mickey asked.

“She was a sorceress in Greek mythology,” Bunkie explained. “In the
Odyssey
she lured some sailors from Ulysses’s ship onto her island and turned them into swine.”

“She must have been a very powerful sorceress to turn men into swine,” Minnie said, impressed.

Wyma Jean smiled a worldly smile. “Honey, I can work the same trick with a six-pack and a short skirt.” She leaned forward. “Believe me—underneath those tight jeans they wear, they’re
all
little porkers.”

“Can we cut the chatter back there?” I murmured. I tried to concentrate on Gwen. “Ah, Gwen, did the Macdonalds say what would happen to you if I didn’t cooperate?”

“My contract gets cancelled, after which I’m broke.” Her eyes glittered. “Isn’t that the most horrible thing you’ve ever heard?”

“Uh, did they mention anything about, say, pulling out your fingernails with pliers?”

“Oh, thdy joked about it a little, but it isn’t as though I have time to grow real nails.” She pulled one off and held it up to show me. “But let’s cut to the chase here. Ken, do you have any idea just how much money I stand to lose if you keep behaving in your usual pigheaded, childish way? Knowing how much this means to me, I know you won’t let me down, now
will
you?”

“Uh, right.” I looked at Bunkie, who moved over where Gwen couldn’t see her and held up a sign that said,
DR. BLOK SAYS ONLY TWENTY MORE MINUTES.
“Uh, Gwen, seen any good movies lately?”

“Ken, I’d love to chitchat, but this is big money we’re talking here, a major client and interstellar exposure,” Gwen said in a disarming tone of voice. She gave me the hair flip that meant she was going in for the kill. “Letting everyone know that Macdonalds are really warm and fuzzy people is a major, major ad campaign, the kind of campaign that can make an entire career. Ken, this thing is as big as diet pet food. No, it’s bigger than that—as big as
organic
diet pet food. But they’re blaming me for your failure to get with the program here.”

“Ah, sure.”

“Now I know we couldn’t make a go of it, and that’s almost as much my fault as it is yours, but I still remember those dreams we had.” She batted her baby blue contacts at me. “Do you remember that little horse farm we always talked about?”

I gave her a funny look. “What little horse farm?”

“And the string of polo ponies? The little fantasies we used to talk about?” Her voice became a little huskier. “You can still make that happen for me, Ken.”

I was clearly out of my depth here. The only fantasy of Gwen’s I knew of involved being naked in a shopping mall with a major credit card.

Bunkie held up another sign, which read,
DR. BLOK SAYS WE’RE READY TO GO FOR IT.

“How about it, Ken?” Gwen said sweetly. “Then we can sit back and talk about all the good times we had together.”

I drew a blank on that, too.

By this time the bridge was full of unauthorized visitors. Minnie turned to Mickey. “Oh, dear! What a dreadful dilemma.”

“Don’t listen to her, Ken!” Harry shouted.

Rosalee waved a ten-spot over her head. “I got ten bucks that says he caves!”

Gwen gave me another hair flip and blew me a kiss for good measure. Her image disappeared and Xhia’s replaced it. “Enough talk.”

I glared at him. “You didn’t tell her what you have planned for her—torture, mutilation.”

He shrugged. “Why be unpleasant?”

“Can I have some time to talk things over with my crew?”

“You may have five minutes.” The screen blanked.

“I have Commander Lindquist standing by,” Bunkie said.

“Well, everybody, we have five minutes to think of something,” I told my crew, trying to put the best face on things.

“Circe wasn’t mentioned when we studied Greek mythic archetypes,” Mickey commented. “However, it would appear that Miss Wyma Jean is the quintessential Aphrodite, while Mr. Harry would appear to personify Mars.”

“Friend Catarina is, of course, Minerva, the Goddess of Wisdom,” Minnie added. “We are still looking for an appropriate correlation for you, friend Ken.”

I punched the intercom. “Catarina?”

“We’re ready to try full thrust.” Her voice sounded tired. “No guarantees. How are things at your end?”

“If we don’t give up in about two minutes, Xhia intends to torture Gwen and blow us out of space.” I glanced at the tactical display to study the cordon of warships surrounding us. “Their dispositions are a little sloppy, so if we try to scoot, there’s a chance we’ll make it.”

I heard her chuckle. “Do what you have to do, Ken.”

Xhia’s face reappeared on the viewscreen. “Well, time’s up!”

“Hey!” I pointed to the time display. “Your watch is fast.”

Xhia shrugged. “So sue me. Do you surrender yourself to certain deat’ or do I have tee pleasure of ridding tee universe of your presence?”

“I’ve got a better idea,” I said before the peanut gallery in back of me had time to give me advice. “Why don’t we settle this, just the two of us, one-on-one.”

Xhia appeared interested. “What are you suggesting?”

“A duel, just you and me.” I turned to Bunkie. “Is there a good place to fight a duel on board this ship?”

“There’s the ship’s auditorium,” Bunkie said, a mixture of compassion and disbelief in her eyes.

I turned my attention back to Xhia. “A duel in the ship’s auditorium, then. If you win, my crew surrenders this ship to you intact, and you go home a hero. If I win, you give me Gwen intact and let us pass through the jump point unmolested with, say, an hour’s lead. That way, you still have a reasonable chance of blowing me out of space later.”

He stroked his gill slits. “Your proposition intrigues me.”

“Good. Now, how do I know that you and the fleet will follow through on the bargain if I win?”

He stiffened. “You have my word of honor as a gentleman.”

“Yeah, but all kidding aside, how do I know that you’ll follow through?”

“I suppose I could move my fleet off as a token gesture.”

“So what do you say?” I ignored a sudden burst of chittering behind me as Muffy and her friends conferred.

“I accept your terms.” Xhia smiled. “And as tee challenged party, I have tee choice of weapons. I choose light-sabers!”

Mentally, I counted to ten. “Why not heavy sabers?”

“No, no, no.
Light-
sabers.
Laser
swords. T’ey slice, t’ey dice, and t’ey obviate tee need to carry stemo on camping trips.”

“Peachy,” I said. “You wouldn’t happen to have an extra one on you, would you?”

“As it happens, I do. A matched pair, in fact.” Xhia’s grin widened. “I am, after all, planetary champion. I will meet you at your airlock in fifteen of your minutes.”

His image disappeared. I swiveled around in my seat. “What do you all think?”

“You really screwed up, big time,” Rosalee observed candidly.

“No question about it, major league dumb,” Wyma Jean said.

“Yeah,” Harry added.

“Among you humans, there is a long-standing literary tradition of engaging in sword fights aboard spaceships,” Mickey said judiciously. “It did not occur to me that this tradition was grounded in fact. But as Bucky says, ‘We are all silly putty in the hands of God.’ “

“Uncle Bucky will be most interested when we tell him how this turns out,” Minnie added.

“Right,” I said, moderately deflated and likely to become more so if Xhia really was planetary champion.

“I’ll have Commander Lindquist meet you in the auditorium, sir.” Bunkie’s voice carried a trace of pity. “And I just want to say how much I’ve enjoyed serving under you.”

I looked at Muffy and Trixie. “Do either of you know anything about light-sabers?”

Muffy nodded hesitantly.

“Okay, let’s go.” I gave Rosalee control of the board, and Muffy and Trixie showed me how to get to the auditorium.

When we arrived, Catarina was waiting in a greasy set of coveralls. “Hello, Ken. Bunkie told me about your little brainstorm.”

“You know anything about fencing?”

“I was pretty good with a foil at the academy.”

“Good. How much can you teach me in ten minutes?”

“Not a lot.”

“Is this the dumbest idea I’ve ever come up with?”

She reflected. “It’s good enough for the top ten list.”

“What part of it strikes you as unusually stupid?”

“Asking for Gwen. Being obnoxious requires talent. She has it.”

“I couldn’t just abandon her to a hideous fate. Well, maybe I could have. Are you upset?”

“Me? Upset? Now, why should I be upset?”

“You’re upset.”

“Did Gwen say anything about dropping one or more of her lawsuits against you in return for this?”

“Well, the subject didn’t exactly come up.” I coughed. “You know this business about getting religion and being nice to people really is a pain in the tail sometimes.”

She smiled. “It is, at that. Did you actually stop and consider what it’ll be like having Gwen aboard ship?”

I shuddered.

“I thought so.” She looked at Muffy and Trixie, who were huddled together looking worried. “Can you tell us about fighting with a light-saber?”

“Yes,” Trixie said. “Don’t.”

“Will you be fighting saber alone or saber and mirror shield?” Muffy asked.

“What’s the difference?”

“A beam of light cannot parry anot’er beam of light, so saber-alone fight lasts approximately—” She conferred with Trixie for the proper time conversion. “—four seconds on average.”

“How do my reflexes compare to Xhia’s, do you think?” I asked Catarina.

“When is the last time you won a game of racquet-ball?”

I nodded. “Right. Let’s go with the shield.”

“How much do you know about fencing?” Catarina asked. “Never mind, we’ll find out.” She handed me a long stick. With Catarina to instruct me in the rudiments of sword-fighting and Muffy to explain the peculiarities of fighting with a light-saber, we quickly established that I was what is known in fencing circles as a slow learner.

“All right,” Catarina said, brushing her hair out of her eyes impatiently, “let’s try it one more time, from the top.”

Minnie and Mickey applauded politely.

Rosalee interrupted over the intercom. “Skiff approaching. It looks to be our buddy, Xhia.”

“What do you think?” I asked, leaning on my stick, breathing hard.

Muffy hid her face in her hands. “You might stand a chance if he had severe rheumatoid arthritis,” Catarina said. “As it stands, our only chance is for me to take Xhia on in your place.”

I shook my head. “You’re a woman. Xhia would never agree to let you substitute for me. Besides, what would we tell him?”

Catarina thought for a moment. “We could say you tripped coming down a ladder and broke your arm. Under the circumstances, he’d have to agree to a substitute.” Bunkie nodded. “It’s a good story, sir. Nobody who knows you would have any trouble believing it.”

“But Catarina,” I protested, “I can’t let you do that for me.”

“Ken, this is no time to get chivalrous on me,” Catarina said crossly, “and we don’t have time to argue.”

“But, I mean, I can’t—er, I won’t—”

“Are you trying to say it’s all right if you get sliced up, but it’s not all right if I get sliced up?”

“Well, yeah.” I started to say something really mushy and never quite got it out before I noticed Catarina muttering a quick prayer—for herself, not me, which was a very bad sign. A few seconds later I asked, “What I am doing on the floor?”

Catarina bent over and rubbed my cheek. “At the academy I took judo in addition to foil. Think of this as our first argument.”

I tested my left wrist. Bunkie produced an elastic bandage from the first aid cabinet and began wrapping me up.

“Is it broken?” Catarina inquired.