-SALOON AT THE EDGE OF EVERYWHERE-

Chapter Thirty Two

Over in City Hall, Candybar had gotten the distraught Qualm settled down, and the luncheon was wrapping up. The head of Enzyme Corp went back to the podium. “I have a little surprise for you folks,” he announced. “I have arranged, with the help of our President, who by the way, I voted for,” here he inclined his head graciously to the leader of the free world, as almost no one called the President anymore, and then waited for the applause to die down, “to have the pirates who caused all this fuss to be brought here to City Hall.”

There was a babble of commotion, and again the CEO paused before saying, “They will be guarded by U. S. Marines, so I assure you all, there is absolutely no danger of them getting loose.” Only he and a couple others in the room knew how true the last portion of that statement was.

The press and media of hundreds of planets and races perked up at the thought of that photo-op. The pirates and most of Rufus’s Avengers, minus their famous leader of course, all together in a room full of celebrities.

“So do you know how to fly this crazy thing?” asked Rufus, gesturing at the confusing array of controls in the small cockpit of the raffish and deadly-looking little craft.

“I went up with the pirates a few times, when Rubar was teaching them. But I never got a lesson myself,” Kirk admitted. “All I know is that in, oh, ten minutes or so,” Kirk took another glance at his watch, “the launch from the Obama is scheduled to come down on Treasure Island. Then the Marines are supposed to take the pirates to the press conference. That’s where the Boss is, playing it all innocent in front of billions of witnesses. But the pirates are never supposed to get there at all.”

“Let’s not forget those poor, young Marines,” said the Professor dolefully.

“Hey,” said Rufus thoughtfully, “if it was just Beeltee and that crazy crew of his, I might be tempted to just let it happen.” He paused to gather his thoughts. Then he turned to the Professor and said, “Professor, hand me your bag,” even as he climbed into what he assumed was the pilot’s seat. The fit was not a good one.

Kirk looked on skeptically as Rufus put the bag on his lap, unzipped it, and stuck both hands inside while he closed his eyes and tried to relax. “What’s he doing, sir?” Kirk asked the old historian.

“Shhh, just give him a moment, and let’s see what happens, shall we?” said the Professor almost smugly.

As Rufus had hoped, the memory stone had not forgotten its eccentric new friend, and was pleased to oblige Rufus in his quest for knowledge. And evidently, the multi-dimensional beings such as the Flying Pickles had been more than a little interested in the doings of the hostile Reavers, because they had accessed the communications and data-storage used by the Reavers, and not just relied on personal observations. The multi-dimensional beings could do this sort of thing when they wished to, and Rufus had been sort of counting on that being true.

First Rufus began by picturing the ship he was sitting in, with its forward-swept, sharp-edged wings and the shark-like body. Then he focused on the control panel in front of him, with its confusing assortment of controls and screens. Sure enough, the stone sensed what he wanted, and fed it to him like a mother feeding baby food to her beloved infant. It was like watching a flashing lightshow with glimpses of schematics and diagrams intermingled wildly. Rufus felt an electric jolt course through his body, and suddenly knew he could fly the heck out of this ship. In fact, this ship now seemed as familiar to him as a lover’s body. Not to carry the metaphor too far, but he could scarcely wait to get his hands on her.

And since he also knew how to use the radar-like sensor devices, he reached forward and made a flicking motion above a flat part of the control panel. A 3D sort of a floating hologram appeared in the air before him, showing not only airplanes and space ships moving inside the planet’s atmosphere, but also showing all the star ships orbiting in space above this part of the planet as well. There was the Obama, a greenish-blue speck high above the Earth, and a smaller blip Rufus knew was the launch, just pulling away from its mother ship to begin its descent to Treasure Island. There was no sign of the other Reaver ship, but Rufus knew about its stealth technology now.

“Okay,” said Rufus grandly, “just a couple more things and we are ready to go.” He realized that the other two were still standing, and he finished with, “Professor, strap yourself into the copilot’s seat. Kirk, you might want to go grab a seat in the main cabin and strap yourself in also. If you stand there, I can’t guarantee you won’t end up splattered on the inside of this window.”

Kirk just shook his head and did as the crazy man said.

Rufus handed his cell phone to the Professor and told him to try calling Candybar. Then Rufus stuck his hands back in the sports bag and began to gently fondle the memory stone. The stone seemed to enjoy it immensely. “Come on, darling, show me your stuff. I need to know all about these nasty Reaver dudes,” Rufus crooned seductively. Again the stone responded to the seduction with a willingness and enthusiasm that would have shocked a nymphomaniac. “Come on, baby, give it to me,” Rufus murmured as he caressed and stroked and petted the stone. I must confess at this point that I am just as uncomfortable describing this intimate scene as you undoubtedly are to be hearing about it.

When Rufus was done having his way with the alien artifact, he leaned back in the pilot’s chair and let out a contented sigh. Then he lit a cigarette. Hey, do not roll your eyes. Do you think I make these things up? I can only record the events as they happen. I am in no way responsible for the behavior of the people involved.

Rufus reached forward and did the things he now knew he had to do to prepare the Reaver ship for flight. A control stick stuck itself out of the control panel, and Rufus gripped it knowingly. He also ran his fingers over a part of the panel containing the communications gear, and under the panel lights began to glow.

“U. S. S. S. Obama, come in please,” Rufus said in a clear voice.

A young, female voice responded right away. “This is the Obama. Identify yourself, please.” You gotta love the Navy, Rufus thought with some pride, they are so business-like.

“This is your old friend Rufus Blacke,” said Rufus. “Uh, could I please speak with Captain Browne?” Rufus was putting the young communications specialist in a terrible spot. A civilian had somehow managed to get onto a secure military comm channel that only the Pentagon and the President were supposed to be able to use. But then again, it was ‘that’ civilian. She decided this was above her pay grade and summoned the Captain over.

When Captain Browne heard who it was, and that he was using a top-secret secure comm line, she sighed deeply, and said, “Ensign, you might as well put this over the bridge speakers so we can all find out together just what Mr. Blacke has in store for us this time.” She waited until the ensign gave her a nod, and said into the air, “Yes, Mr. Blacke, how may the Navy be of assistance today, sir?”

“Why, Captain,” said Rufus with a chuckle, “if I didn’t know you better, I would swear that was sarcasm. Okay, we have a real problem, and not a lot of time. Your launch with the prisoners on board is going to be blown into little bits before it gets to Treasure Island.”

“How did..?” she started to say, but gave up right away. Only a handful of people knew how and when the pirates were being moved. She had only been told herself less than two hours ago. But she knew better than to take this strange man for granted. She had so many questions she didn’t know where to start.

“Captain, you do trust me, don’t you?” Rufus asked very seriously.

The Captain, to her credit, did not hesitate before saying, “Yes, sir, I do.” It had been instinctual, and she almost regretted saying it, but she was surprised to find that she did indeed trust this strange and occasionally frustrating man. But it never hurts to have conformation, especially for a young, female Navy Captain, so she made a hand sign to her two technicians manning the sensor screens. The sensors were not of human manufacture. They and the FTL drive on the Obama had been purchased from off world sources. “I have no hostile vessels on my screens, Mr. Blacke,” the Captain said, looking at the two sensor techs and getting two shrugs in reply. “What is the nature of the threat, sir?”

“Stop calling me sir, you young whippersnapper, and just believe me. The ship is stealth-cloaked, and I don’t know where it is yet, but it is nearby, and I am going to find it for you. I am sitting in a second ship of the same design, and the design is a good one, lots of tech and weapons. I have an idea of how to flush these rats out, but I need you to get on the comm to your pilot in the launch, and tell him to do exactly as I say.” Rufus figured he was just about out of time, and he needed to get going.

“Why don’t I just recall the launch?” asked Captain Browne.

I didn’t even think of that, Rufus almost said out loud. What he ended up saying was, “Because there is more to all of this than we realized, and we need to figure out who is behind it and what they are up to.” And in his heart he knew that was true.

“Very well, Rufus. Can you at least tell me what we are up against?” the Captain asked.

“Some mercenaries who work for Enzyme Corporation. They are called Reavers, and they are not fooling around. I have to go now, but I will get right back to you.” Rufus waved at the consol to break communications.

Captain Browne pondered the implications of the brief conversation. She was the Captain of a Navy ship. She was supposed to receive her orders through a chain of command, not from some guy calling up like he was ordering a pizza to be delivered. On the other hand, this guy had just gone up against armed pirates with just a knife and some poker buddies according to the stories she had heard, and prevented an intergalactic incident from becoming even worse. And he knew about the prisoner transfer somehow, and had managed to break into a supposedly secure military comm network. Maybe, just maybe, he was a spy or something, but she didn’t really believe it. He was too…goofy, for want of a better word, but too likeable at the same time.

She didn’t mind putting her life on the line, she got paid for that. But putting her career there made her distinctly nervous. Oh well, she sighed to herself, this is why I get the big bucks, and she proceeded to get in contact with the launch pilot and 2^nd Lt. Sarota who was in charge of the Marine escort detail.