Yes, that is the cover of one of my children’s books… which make a lovely Christmas gift for the little ones, and are available by clicking the pictures of the book in the sidebar, if you didn’t know. Oh, and I added the Santa hat. It isn’t a Christmas story, it is about finding friendship.
T’was the night before the election, and all through my gut
My last meal was stirring, and shooting straight out of my butt
The pollsters had been certain Hillary would win it with ease
Who would actually vote for that pussy-grabbing sleaze?
Absolutely no one was laying all snug in their bed
As we watched on the map, states turn blue or turn red
And as the map turned redder than a really bad crime scene
We began to ask ourselves, just what would this mean?
Well, let me tell you what it means, you racists and thugs
You Trump-supporting Nazis and human-shaped slugs
It means that you won, and for now, you are happy
And it means that for all of us, life’s about to get crappy
It means the future of our planet rests with climate change deniers
It means flooding and storms, it means famine and fires
It means unregulated smokestacks vomiting filth in the air
It means no choices for women, and no fucking healthcare
It means a supreme court that will put corporations before people
It means freedom of religion… as long as there is a cross on the steeple
It means that people of color will be living in fear
It means our election was decided by a guy named Vladimir
It means Donald will drain the swamp, and replace what we had
With ass-hats who will end up being ten times as bad
So enjoy it while you can, if you voted for Trump
Because you’ll be living right beside us… in a vast, toxic dump
When you let Nazis help extinguish lady liberty’s lamp
Don’t be surprised if you end up locked up in a camp
The thing is… (hello, old thing!)… that I have all these old posts from Christmas past just sitting down there, and I think some of them are worth seeing again. This one is only a year old, but it seems to stand the test of time. And who doesn’t love a good, old-fashioned Christmas poem Trump slam?
(Author’s Note)… I guess I don’t have much to say. If you aren’t reading this, you aren’t reading it.
Chapter Five
“There, there, and there,” said the Warlord, flicking a tentacle tip at three dots on the scanner screen. “Those are the commanders, at the base of the three large, inverted-V formations. That makes that one,” the tentacle tip flicked to another dot, “the fleet commander.” The three V’s were in a line, side by side, open mouths aimed at Earth. The single dot indicated by the Warlord was the one at the rear of the center V.
“Okay,” Arthur said, getting up from the pilot’s seat. “Take over. Get us as close as you can.” As he went to join Gup and the General, he paused and said over his shoulder, “I don’t know how close we can get without being picked up on their scanners, and I don’t know how close we need to be exactly to use the transport beam, so get ready to do some fancy driving.”
Gup and the General were flying one of the tiny insectoid surveillance bugs around the cabin using a small thumb operated joy stick on a small hand-held remote pad. Gup had the pad in one hand. The drone silently buzzed over and hovered a foot or two in front of Arthur’s face. Arthur looked past the tiny thing and saw his own face on the monitor screen on a small control panel the General was fiddling with. He tried to refocus on the flying speck and it took him a few seconds to find it even though he knew it was there. He grinned fiercely. The bugs were practically invisible.
“That’s good flying, Gup,” said Arthur to the blue tech wizard. “Now let’s see if I can figure out how to get it where it needs to go.” He had tried to get some help figuring out the procedure for long-range precision transport beaming by slipping his hand into the sports bag that nestled under the pilot’s seat. But once again the memory stone and the Pickles had been unable or unwilling to help directly. So, it would have to be trial and error.
It played out like some kind of reality game show where contestants had to perform a whacky stunt for cash and prizes. Just beam a tiny bug from a fast-moving ship in space right onto the bridge of another ship moving at equal speed. They lost a few bugs before they figured out how to slave the remote-control unit to the ships scanner array. Another bug twinkled and disappeared, and there it was, flashing a pulsing view of the bridge of the enemy ship onto the monitor. But was it the right enemy ship?
Gup moved the drone to a high corner in the back of the bridge and spun it around. On the monitor, the bridge panned past in a wide fish-eye view. And there he was, sitting in the captain’s chair set on a raised dais like Captain James T. Kirk commanding the Enterprise. Even though he could only see the back of his head and his shoulders, Arthur could tell it was him. He gave Gup and the General a ferocious grin.
“Should I move the bug closer just to make sure?” Gup asked.
“No, I think I ought to be able to recognize myself, even from the back. His hair is still long. What a loser. I gave that up in my mid-forties. Show us how many crewmen on the bridge, buddy,” Arthur ordered politely.
Gup wiggled his thumb and the view panned as the bug rotated in the air.
“I make out twelve targets, all human,” said the General at his little console.
“Can we not call them targets?” said Arthur tightly. “I doubt many of them want to be here. We need to bear that in mind.” He had a sudden thought. “I wonder if this entire first wave is human. That would suit Fahh’s sense of humor. Totally expendable forces to test our defenses. Put them in outmoded ships to die for their emperor.”
“The ships are all light vessels, frigate and destroyer sized,” said the Warlord from the cockpit. “That supports your theory.”
“None of the bridge crew is armed, as far as I can tell,” the General pointed out. “There are no armed troopers in sight, as there should be on a warship going into battle.”
“There must be armed troops aboard, at least a security detail that could reach the bridge in case of trouble,” Arthur guessed. “But we can’t just pop straight over to their bridge, because we will be helpless before we finish materializing. That is why I brought those guys.” He pointed at the five war robots standing like silent sentinels.
He turned and walked to stand before the closest of the battle machines. “I am Arthur Blacke,” he said to it, as Tarlek Da’s instructions had told him to do.
The robots red eyes gleamed.
“I am designating you as ‘Number One’. Number One, respond.” Arthur felt a little silly and sort of cool at the same time, talking to a robot that was armed to the teeth, to use a not-quite appropriate expression.
“Number One is operational,” said the robot. Arthur couldn’t help laughing. Tarlek Da had used Izalie’s voice in the robot’s synthesized speech unit. To hear the deadly looking machine speaking in a sweet little girl’s voice just struck him as hilarious.
He activated two more of the robots, designating them ‘Number Two’ and ‘Number Three’. The mechanical killers eyed him calmly with their disquietingly feral optical sensors, awaiting his commands.
“Number One, you are equipped with non-lethal weapons, correct?” Arthur asked. “Specifically, non-lethal to humans?”
“Yes,” replied the robot. “One launcher is loaded with hard rubber projectiles. We are also carrying electro-net launchers.”
Arthur still found it difficult not to laugh at the cute, girlish voice issuing from the armored soldier. He didn’t know exactly what an electro-net was, but he didn’t care, as long as it could incapacitate a human without killing. “Number One, I am sending you on an important mission. I will remain in contact with you, but there are some rules you need to follow. First, I want you to avoid killing anyone or anything, even in self defense, unless I specifically order you to do so.”
“Yes, Sir,” replied the robot sweetly.
Arthur went on speaking. “You are instructed to follow only my orders unless I place another being in command of you.”
“Yes, Sir,” came the reply.
Now for the tricky part, Arthur thought. “There is a human where I am sending you. He looks and sounds like me, but he is not me. He has longer hair and is wearing a black uniform. You will ignore any orders from that human. If you have any doubts about which of us is speaking, you will obey only my orders sent directly to you through this control device.” He held up the small remote unit that Tarlek Da had given him. It allowed him to communicate directly with the robots, or override any of the robots actions if the need arose. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir,” the robot answered once again.
“You are being sent to the control bridge of a space craft,” Arthur continued the briefing. “There will be twelve humans there, and more might show up before you are reinforced. You must order the humans not to move or to touch or use any of the controls on the bridge. If they disobey you, you are authorized to use non-lethal force to control them. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir,” the robot responded.
Arthur had one last thing to say. “You are not going to be able to move while we are sending you to the enemy ship, but I don’t want you to panic. It won’t last more than ten or twenty seconds. Do you understand?”
And once again the robot only had one thing to say. “Yes, Sir.”
“Is everybody ready?” Arthur asked his brave crew. Everyone replied in the affirmative. Rubar’s boys were so ready they could only snarl in anticipation. “That no-killing order goes for you, too, unless it is absolutely unavoidable,” Arthur told them severely. He received sheepish grins and nods in return. “Okay, let’s do this,” he said, and punched the button on the transport remote. The robot designated as Number One began to shimmer and wink in and out of visibility.
“I see him on the screen,” said the General. “He looks like he might be coming in a little high.”
“I didn’t want to send him into the deck,” Arthur explained. “Better safe than sorry.” He went over to join the General at the control panel for the surveillance drone.
“They spotted Number One,” the General pointed out. On the monitor they could see crewmen pointing and turning to look at their unexpected visitor.
“Turn up the sound on the bug, Gup,” Arthur requested. So far, the humans on the other ship seemed too surprised to react. Now they could hear the excited babbling of the enemy crewmen coming through the speaker in the console.
The General pointed with a tentacle tip at the monitor. “That one is turning to his station, most likely alerting their security team.”
Arthur watched the monitor in absolute fascination as the enemy commander got up from his command chair and turned towards the materializing robot. I’ll be damned, he thought. “My hair is so grey. And I look kind of fat.”
“They say the camera adds ten pounds,” said Gup with a grin. Arthur shot him a nasty look.
In the foreground of the screen the robot finished its strange journey. Then it fell about a foot to the deck, effortlessly absorbing the shock with its flexible track pods. “Cease all movement. Do not utilize any equipment,” Number One commanded, the orders made incongruous by the little girl voice.
“Rubar, time to go,” Arthur shouted. He made sure that he and the three Reavers were all touching each other and pushed the remote button once more. Rubar and two Reavers, holding needle guns at the ready, began to exist in two places at one time.
On the monitor Arthur and the General watched the human who had turned back to his station. He was clearly whispering into a microphone but they could not hear what he was saying. There was a popping sound and a black object streaked from the robot to connect solidly with the side of the human’s head. He slumped in his chair without a sound other than the loud thump of the rubber bullet as it impacted his skull.
Another human didn’t stand quite still enough to suit the robot. It launched a small packet that split open in midair, spreading into a three-foot-across circular web of glittering microfilament metallic netting. It wrapped around the human’s torso and emitted blue sparks. This human also dropped, to twitch spasmodically on the deck. Rubar and his two compatriots finished flickering and also dropped a foot or two to the deck of the bridge. No one else on the enemy bridge was stupid enough to try moving.
“Now it’s my turn,” said Arthur, grinning from ear to ear. “If you think they were surprised before, wait till they see me.” And with that, he transported himself and two more of Rubar’s boys to the other ship.
I know, you have no idea what that even is.
But I will explain it.
I always do, don’t I?
I added some filter effects to another of my projects from the glass blowing class…
Yes, it is the one I call: the fire bowl. And no, you aren’t imagining that the pictures up above have something twisted about them.
Because this time, the first filter effect I used was the ‘twirl’ effect.
Then I used that image with the other effects.
And I think they came out okay. Next, I might try doing one of these other effects, and then doing more effects to whatever I end up with.
I was watching the news last night as another big fire rips through San Diego County. This one is not too close to my house, but it is burning towards my wife’s Aunt and Uncle’s house up in Fallbrook. Yes, the house where Jessica and Jason got married earlier this year. You have seen tons of photos of that house.
Imagine my horror when I saw a bit of news footage featuring panicked horses running through smoke. And I knew instantly that these were the horses I often stop to pet when I go up to Fallbrook on my own.
There is a picture from an old post of me saying hello to my friends. To be honest, while the picture up above that one is from the same ranch, a training facility that houses and trains more than 400 thoroughbred race horses, and I did get it from a local news website, those might not be the same horses you see me petting in this photo. I couldn’t find the picture of these horses that I saw on the news, and the resolution is not good enough to identify them for certain in that picture.
Most of the horses were rescued, but tragically, a dozen or so were lost in the fire.
So far, Sharon and Bert’s house is still standing.
The ranch was badly damaged. I will, in the future, let you know if I see my friends back in the front exercise yard, where they always seemed to be waiting for me.
(Author’s Note)… Oh, just read some of it.
Chapter Four
So there Arthur stood, on the bridge of the Orion, sopping wet, with sore hands and no sleep for who knows how long, pondering how to stop an alien invasion from another dimension with inadequate forces that had never worked together, all while the universe mourned his death. Everyone gathered on the bridge was looking at him, waiting for him to give some kind of order. And Arthur Blacke was drawing a blank.
“Captain Hulls,” Arthur asked, “are your scanners picking up the invasion fleet yet?”
The Captain glanced at an officer sitting at a console on one side of the bridge and got a quick head shake. “No, Sir,” she replied. “We do not have military grade scanners. But that means they are not in our system yet.”
“Right,” Arthur considered aloud, “Can you tell me how long it will take them to get here from this point in space?” He handed the Captain the small slip of paper David Glassaway had given him.
She consulted with her navigation officer for a moment, and then told Arthur, “They could be entering our system in the next hour or two, depending on their maximum speed.”
“Military grade scanners,” Arthur snapped out suddenly. “Of course we have them. Two sets to be exact, right down in the cargo hold. Captain, set a course towards that point in space, but just take us to the edge of our system. Then join us in the hold, if you please.” Then Arthur led his mixed bag of defenders of the universe off the bridge.
As they walked he said to the General and the Warlord, “Okay, guys, this is it. You are my strategy experts. If you know of a way to stop these guys, I’m all ears.”
The General hedged a bit. “Without knowing the size or makeup of their forces, or where they are exactly, or where and when their follow-up waves will appear…” Okay, he hedged a lot, when you get right down to it.
“Well, if no one has a better plan, I have at least the beginning of one,” Arthur replied just a little testily. “I know how we can get a closer look at these guys.”
Both Xxos saw immediately where he was going with this. “The captured spy ship. Of course,” said the General.
“Reconnaissance is the obvious first step,” said the Warlord. “I am sorry, Arthur, we should have suggested it to you.” He sounded a little embarrassed.
“No, no, you guys know we have scanners on our little allied fleet that would have given us that information,” Arthur quickly pointed out. “But you do not know about some of our other toys that Tarlek Da and Mr. Toad put aboard the Orion.” They arrived at the cargo hold and Arthur gave them a quick rundown on the equipment available, and the bare outline of his plan.
The ideas began to flow.
“I must admit, Arthur,” said the General, “I am impressed. You have a keen military mind. How did you ever come up with this idea?”
“Ironically, it’s something I read in a book about pirates when I was a kid,” Arthur answered. “They used to sneak up on larger vessels in the dark using longboats, if their ship didn’t have the firepower to take it on. Then they would board the ship and overwhelm the crew by surprise and sheer viciousness. Pirates, that takes us right back to where this whole thing started.”
“And if the first part of your plan works, what will we do next?” asked the Warlord.
“I haven’t thought that far ahead,” admitted Arthur reluctantly. He paused and then continued. “I sort of like to make up the details as I go.”
“It seems to work for you,” said Frodo, looking up at Arthur with a bright smile on his bright red face.
As the Orion’s Captain joined them, Arthur pointed to his Reaver ship. “There is your military grade scanner suite, Captain. You won’t even need to launch her, I bet. Just put one of your crew inside to monitor things. We are going to take the other ship out and find out just how stealthy it is. I want you, after we launch, to join up with the Obama and our allied fleet. Then tell Capt. Browne that I am still alive and that I will contact her soon with orders. But do not send the message, go meet her in person. I don’t want the enemy to pick up on this.”
“Sir, that other voice, the one from the enemy fleet, is that really who it sounds like it is?” the young Captain asked.
“I think so,” said Arthur, “and that reminds me. Just be sure to tell Captain Browne that when she hears from me, if it really is me, the code will be, ‘I like monkeys’.”
Captain Hulls gave him a questioning look, but Arthur just shrugged and smiled. Meanwhile, the three Xxos, Gup and Frodo, along with the Reavers, had been loading the gear Arthur had requested into the small captured scout craft. Big Jonny had been drafted to help, under the watchful eyes of everyone. Arthur called Jon over to him. It was time they had a heart to heart talk.
“Is my Jon still alive?” asked Arthur in a tight voice.
The other Jon looked startled. “Oh, yeah, he is in Mexico with some girl. There was no need to, uh, do anything to him. This bomb thing was thrown together at the last minute, when the Doraimee’s spies found out we were friends here too.”
Arthur sat down on an unneeded crate of needle guns and Jon joined him.
“So, we know each other in both realities?” Arthur asked, genuinely interested. As he spoke, he took the small bomb on its leather belt off of Jon and slung it over his shoulder. He had the switch in his pocket already.
“Oh yeah, we’ve been friends for a long time. Hell, you were a groomsman at my wedding,” said Jon sincerely. “But I haven’t seen you for a few years. Something happened to you during the fall of our Earth.”
“So how did they get you to try and kill me?” Arthur asked.
“I have a wife and son,” said Jon, slumping forward and putting his hands to his face. “You have no idea how cruel the Keelar are. What they are capable of. I truly am sorry, but I did what I had to do for my family.”
Arthur put his hand on his new friend’s arm. “I have to have you put in the brig, but believe me, I don’t hold this against you. When this is all over, I will have two Big Jonnys to call friend.”
“When this is all over,” repeated Jonny with infinite sadness.
“That’s what I said, Jon,” said Arthur fervently. “And it ain’t all over till I kick Fahh’s ass.” And with that, Arthur got up, walked to the little spy ship, and prepared to set his half of a plan in motion. Five minutes later, the tightly loaded vessel was floating out of a large cargo airlock and into the darkness of space.
“Now I guess we’ll see if this ship’s stealth capabilities work against their own scanners,” said Arthur with contrived nonchalance. Gup patted Arthur’s shoulder as Arthur sat in the pilot seat. Frodo clapped his two sets of hands.
“Gollum is going to be so mad he missed this,” said Frodo with glee. “He is the Scout Friend, after all.” And then they were hurtling through space, looking at the huge smear of light on the scanner screen.
“That is a very large fleet,” the General pointed out.
“Or one very very large ship,” said Ooox. They all gave him grim little chuckles, glanced at each other, and burst out in real laughter.
Arthur took them on an arching course, out to the side of the rapidly approaching enemy fleet, and then began curving in towards the enemy, coming onto a parallel heading and slipping slowly nearer. A few minutes later he glanced into the packed cabin behind him and smiled. Gup, the Warlord, and the General were familiarizing themselves with the control consol for the surveillance drones. Rubar and his eight Reavers were checking the needles guns they had uncrated and were stuffing extra drums of the wire ammunition into their orange prison coveralls. The five robots stood silently at attention in the rear of the craft, looking altogether deadly. The lone Qualm floated gauzily against one bulkhead, buoyed by the brave camaraderie of his companions.
On the scanner display, Arthur could now see hundreds of pinpoints of green instead of one large blob. No, not hundreds, he decided, thousands. Holy crap, Arthur whined in the privacy of his own mind. The Warlord came up beside him and studied the screen.
“I am looking for patterns in their formation that might help us determine which ships are command units,” he told Arthur. “Ah, yes, they are not particularly clever or inventive. They must rely mostly on sheer numbers to swamp their enemies.”
“Don’t forget they have some very sophisticated technology,” Arthur reminded him. “Like those transport machines and this stealth vessel, which so far has not raised any alarms from them.” They had passed inside the outer screen of defense ships without being noticed, or at least so he hoped.
“And now that you mention it,” said the Warlord, as if to outdo Arthur, “we have no way to tell if they have more stealth ships with them.” Arthur hadn’t even considered that.
“You know, you’re right,” said Arthur thoughtfully, “Their ships all seem to be just like this one. Very basically built with very standard tech. But there is added-on tech on this ship that is very high level. I bet it’s all stolen from a few races they overran.”
“So,” said the Warlord, instantly grasping Arthur’s point, “they may not have advanced capabilities on all their vessels.”
“Exactly,” Arthur agreed, “And I bet their supreme leader doesn’t trust very many of his commanders. Remember, David Glassaway used primarily Reaver equipment from our reality. Even that bomb Jon had was Reaver tech.”
“Still,” the Warlord pointed out, “overwhelming numbers are nothing to cough at.”
“Sneeze,” said Arthur distractedly.
“Excuse me?” said the Xxo in confusion.
“It’s nothing to sneeze at,” Arthur replied.
“What’s nothing to sneeze at?” persisted the confused Warlord.
“You said cough,” Arthur answered. “Nothing to cough at. But it’s sneeze, not cough.”
“I see,” replied the Warlord seriously, as if he had just learned something very important.
Maybe you can’t tell from the picture, but I actually thought long and hard about exactly which criminal to compare Trump with. I think Captain Hook is the best choice. I mean, yeah, he is a criminal, but not a very good one. Oh, he thinks he is a very good pirate, but it is hard to imagine that the other pirates take him very seriously. His plans never seem to come to fruition. And to be honest, they aren’t really very good plans to start off with.
What really pushed my Captain Hook comparison choice over the edge is the most glaring similarity between these two lackluster bad guys. It is the crew they surround themselves with. That pack of scurrilous but ineffective ne’er-do-wells with which they attempt to carry out their dastardly schemes. When it comes to taking on a crew of misfit morons and simpleton scalawags, I have to say that this is where Trump has Captain Hook beat hands down.
In the history of poorly-planned comic-opera criminal activity, Trump’s misguided malfeasance sets the new bar… firmly at ground level. He isn’t what you would call a mastermind, in the criminal sense- or in any sense- but the band of barely-believable buccaneers that he set off to plunder the wold with make Captain Hook’s crew seem downright professional.
Trump’s skill at picking the worst people for any job is bad enough when he puts people in charge of things that they have openly claimed that they want to destroy, but it does seem to me that if you were trying to get away with anything illegal, you would take some care with whom you picked to be your partners in crime. This is obviously beyond Trump’s meager talents.
If you wrote all this as a comedy, it would be too unbelievable a premise for anyone to buy into, but it is fun to watch the whole thing unravel.
(Author’s Note)… Yes, I am still posting chapters of the fourth book in my action/humor science fiction series. Don’t worry if you don’t know what is going on. Or, you can order the first three books from my sidebar—> over there—>
Chapter Three
A new view was broadcast throughout the cosmos from another Reporter that hovered discreetly behind the rest of the Avengers and other Universe Company personnel on the far side of the landing field. The Reporter zoomed in on the office complex in the distance, and there was the outside of the lobby, windows broken and grey smoke pouring out.
Arthur’s friends went, to put it in human terms, nuts. They began racing across the landing field to try to help Arthur and the others who had been caught in the explosion, but they were cut off by the arrival of Universe Company fire fighting vehicles and security officers who kept them at a safe distance. Some of the security staff seemed particularly interested in making sure the second Reporter didn’t get too close to the smoking building, putting themselves between it and the scene and shouting at it to let the fire fighters do their job.
Of course you, being as brilliant as you are, have no doubt figured out exactly what Arthur did. But just in case you missed a few of the minor details, I will break it down for you.
Arthur had sent Mr. Toad and Gup out on very specific missions. Mr. Toad alerted the fire crews and the security contingent to prepare to move in rapidly when they heard the blast, and for some of the security team to keep any other Reporters as far away as possible. Then he ran to get Frodo and fill him in on the plan. He remained outside to coordinate the deception.
Meanwhile, Gup ran to the armory and gathered up a flash-bang grenade and some smoke grenades. Then he and Frodo slipped back into the lobby, staying out of the Reporter’s line of sight, to wait for Arthur’s signal. When Arthur yelled that the bomb was going to go off, they leapt into action.
From underneath the Reporter Gup pulled the pin and tossed the flash-bang grenade up into the air where it went off with a satisfying and somewhat terrifying flash and bang directly under and slightly in front of the Reporter. While this was going on, Frodo spread out a thick tarp in his four hands, and just as the grenade detonated, he jumped high into the air and wrapped the tarp around the Reporter. What he wasn’t expecting was for the globe’s antigrav to be so strong. Instead of pulling the Reporter down with him he ended up dangling from the bottom edges of the tarp, his feet still well off the floor.
Gup followed the painfully loud and bright explosion by tossing three smoke grenades under the windows. As they spewed forth their white-grey clouds, Gup broke out the windows that overlooked the landing field with a hammer he had put in his pocket. And so it was that nearly everyone was convinced that Arthur Blacke and a few of his friends had been blown to bits.
There was some confusion in the room because neither the two Xxos nor the two Reavers had been aware of the plan. As soon as his ears stopped ringing, Arthur shushed the quartet, just in cast the Reporter was still sending out the audio from inside its canvas prison. Then, as the smoke began to thin upon being drawn out through the broken windows, he spotted Frodo hanging in the air. In a hoarse whisper he told the Warlord to help Frodo drag the canvas covered globe to a closet or somewhere it could be kept in the dark, if you will pardon my little attempt at comedy. Arthur couldn’t afford to let it broadcast for a while. He hoped the globe would understand that it was all in the name of operational security.
As soon as the Reporter was gone, Arthur snapped at Rubar, “Okay, let’s see what your guy can do.”
Despite two backup detonation booby traps, Rubar’s ‘bomb guy’ deactivated the device in less than two minutes. During that time they heard the fire trucks pull up out front, and just moments later water began to spray into the room. That inconvenienced the bomb guy, but it didn’t slow him down. The water also didn’t do anything to slow down the smoke grenades, but these were going to run out of smoke on their own soon enough.
As soon as the bomb was rendered safe Arthur released his hold on Jon with a sigh of relief. He could barely move his cramped fingers. Jon just stood still, head bowed, though Arthur was sure he could move if he wanted to. The General wrapped some tentacles around Big Jonny and pulled him away from Arthur. The Warlord gripped Jon’s other arm. Arthur motioned for everyone to follow him and led them further into the evacuated building. They needed to stay out of sight.
Just moments after they left, the smoke grenades emptied and the smoke cleared, and Mr. Toad had an unenviable task to perform. He had to convince the fire fighters to help perpetuate the myth that Arthur was dead. Fortunately, they were all so glad to hear that Arthur was alive that they were thrilled to help. It didn’t hurt that they were all paid by the Universe Company, and it was all in a good cause anyway. They dutifully carried in body bags, loaded them with cushions from the couches and chairs in the lobby, and brought them back outside where they laid them out in a neat row. There was one for Arthur, one for Jon, two for Reavers that everyone had seen enter the building just a while before, and two really big ones for the Xxos. No one had noticed Gup and Frodo slipping back into the building, so Mr. Toad figured that was enough.
The somber sight of those six black vinyl bags, one of them supposedly containing the earthly remains of the universe’s hero, was enough to cause a pall of gloom to descend over everything. Well, not over the approaching invasion fleet of course, but other than that there wasn’t a dry eye in the house, as the saying goes.
As Arthur and his not-quite-dead companions walked down the deserted hallway, Arthur apologized for not warning them about his deception. They all agreed that it was a brilliant if startling plan. “Rubar, you look good in prisoner orange,” Arthur teased the formidable mercenary.
The Reaver fingered his bright coveralls and with a laugh, said, “Hey, I was born to wear a uniform. What can I say? But seriously, you won’t be sorry for giving us this chance. We consider you to be our battle commander. You are a true warrior and a good man. And our planet is in the same danger as the rest.”
Arthur also thanked the bomb expert, who simply replied, “It was an honor, Sir.”
The General and the Warlord pulled Big Jonny along between them. He was still wearing the disabled explosives on a belt strapped under his jacket.
As they walked, Arthur unveiled the next stage of his plan, which was as far as he had thought it out himself. “We need to get on the Orion without being spotted.” That was easily accomplished as it turned out. They simply walked to the rear of the building and commandeered a small cargo truck. Then they drove by a roundabout route and parked on the far side of the cargo vessel, where they entered the ship through a cargo hatch.
A young cargo officer had the shock of his life to see his boss still alive. When they had calmed him down, they sent him off to find the Captain and Jimmy and tell them to return to the Orion immediately. Frodo also ran off to gather up the other seven Reavers and Ooox, Arthur’s bodyguard.
Captain Hulls and Jimmy arrived, and Jimmy gave Arthur a spontaneous hug. Soon after that, Ooox and the Reavers were brought on board. Ooox was embarrassed by his failure to protect Arthur.
“I never saw it coming, buddy, so how could you have?” said Arthur simply, casting a sad glance at Big Jonny where he stood, silent and subdued, still being held by the two Xxos.
The Orion slipped silently and unnoticed into the sky without a word to anyone.
(Author’s Note)… Don’t worry. I will give you some background details on what is happening sooner or later. For now, you don’t need to know that a Xxo is a 9 to 12-foot-tall alien that has eyes and mouths surrounding its middle stalk, and tentacles on top and bottom, and looks a little like a giant broccoli. You don’t need to know how this series of action/humor science fiction books is responsible for me meeting Eric Idle of Monty Python fame. You don’t need to worry about who all the humans and aliens are, or why there are two Arthur’s… or three, if you count the one in this reality… or millions, if you count the ones in all the realities. Just read the story and see if it interests you. Or makes you want to buy the first three novels in the series… available over there—> in my sidebar… just in time for Christmas… wink, wink, nudge, nudge.
Chapter Two
Frodo came running back into the waiting room. “Arthur,” he said urgently, “the Xxo fleet is calling the command center. I can put it over the speakers in here if you wish.”
“Command center?” asked Arthur distractedly, “we have a command center?”
Mr. Toad spoke from behind Arthur. “Well, our communications system already spanned the entire populated universe. No Earth government has our capabilities. The President agreed that it would be best to just let you run things from here.”
Before Arthur had a chance to point out that the entire fiasco was being broadcast live, a voice came over hidden speakers to announce, “This is Councilor Commander X of the Xxo battle fleet. I need to speak to Mr. Blacke immediately.”
“This is Arthur Blacke,” said Arthur, speaking in the Xxo language, and hoping the commander would take the hint.
He did. “At your command, Battle Fleet Commander,” said the battle tested commander over the speakers.
“Wait, what?” Arthur shot back.
“The Council has decided that you should be put in overall command of our fleet. They still don’t trust the Warlord, or the General as you call him. Besides, it is tradition for the messenger who brings the call to war to lead. That is why he must fulfill the requirements,” was the reply.
Oh, crap, Arthur chided himself, I forgot that part. “So are you on your way?” he asked, feeling a faint stirring of hope.
“Yes, we are now in the process of sending ships through the Nexus Point nearest your Earth. But I have unfortunate news,” said the Xxo.
Of course you do, Arthur decided morosely.
The Xxo commander went on. “They managed to infiltrate more of those imposters onto most of our ships. They were mostly just lower rank engine or navigation personnel, but corrupted programs were introduced. Engines are malfunctioning and guidance systems are unreliable.”
Arthur felt a chill settle down his back.
The Xxo officer continued. “We have 270 ships that seem to be in good working order, but there may be more doubles on board some of them, or sabotage that has not yet been activated. Sadly, I must report that all our heavy battle ships and cruisers were disabled. Those units we are bringing are all light vessels, destroyers and frigates and some scout craft.”
“Okay, councilor commander, I should have seen this coming. An enemy fleet is gathering near Earth at this moment. Until I have more information on their strength, I just want you to form up your ships and start heading this way also. But do not enter our solar system until you hear from me.” Or whoever they put in charge after I get blown to smithereens, he didn’t add.
“At your orders, Commander,” said the Xxo, and signed off.
Arthur felt Mr. Toad pushing the camera in between him and the pseudo-Big Jonny and inside his not-quite friend’s leather jacket. He heard Tarlek Da’s voice on Mr. Toad’s phone speaker.
“Ah, as I suspected, this device is not from somewhere else. It is of Reaver manufacture. The Reavers make sophisticated weaponry, and I am no expert on their technology,” said the lava lamp-like scientist.
“No, but I know who is,” said Arthur. “Mr. Toad, buddy, tell the Prince to call the President and find out where Rubar and his boys are being held. You better get an executive pardon set up. Then send Gollum to pick them up in the Reaver ship that Ox brought back from the Hub. I need them here now.”
Mr. Toad scampered out and returned in just a minute or two.
Arthur’s cell phone rang again. The General answered it and informed Arthur that the President was on the line, then pushed the speaker button.
“Admiral, glad to have you back,” said the savvy politician. “We are watching you on a monitor right now. I have sent word to release the Reavers. They are being held in San Quentin quite near to you. Is there anything else I can do?”
“I’ll have to get back to you on that, Mr. President,” Arthur said. Mr. Toad rushed out to tell Gollum where to pick up the Reavers. Just as he came back in the room, a new voice came over the lobby speakers.
“Uh, Sir, this is the command center. You have an incoming transmission. I think you need to hear this, Sir.”
“Sure, I’m not going anywhere,” said Arthur with a bleak chuckle. “Put it over the speakers.”
“Well, if it isn’t my old buddy, me,” said a disturbingly familiar voice.
“Who am I speaking to?” asked Arthur, even though he already knew.
“Hey, you are talking to yourself, dude,” came the reply, “and you know what they say about people who talk to themselves.”
Arthur just closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh.
“You can smile and wave if you want,” continued the annoying voice. “We are watching you on the news right now. And I have to say, you look good. But how do you keep getting yourself into these strange predicaments, Arthur? These kinds of things never happen to me.”
“And just where are you watching the news from?” Arthur decided to ask.
“From the bridge of a warship heading towards your Earth,” said the voice. “Did I forget to mention that the Doraimee made me the commander of our first wave? I guess he just thought it would be funny.”
“So how does it feel to sell out your own race?” asked Arthur of himself.
“My race has already gone to a new owner,” said the other.
Arthur suddenly had an idea and he called Mr. Toad over and began to whisper in his ear hole. Mr. Toad grabbed Gup, and they trotted out to find the others and set Arthur’s plan in motion. All over the universe, more and more millions of beings made their way to monitor screens to follow the unfolding events concerning their favorite reality star. So far these events were as baffling as they were entertaining. Arthur just wished he could give his sore, cramped fingers a rest.
“We are going to be there soon, Arthur,” said his own voice over the speakers. “You were smart to pull your ships back. This is just the first wave of the invasion, and you don’t even have the forces to slow us down.”
Rubar and another Reaver suddenly burst into the room. They both came to attention in front of Arthur. “Reporting as ordered, Battle Commander,” bellowed Rubar. “Don’t worry, Sir, I brought my best bomb guy. We will have you out of there in a jiffy, as you humans like to say.”
No one noticed Gup and Frodo come in and stand below the floating Reporter where they wouldn’t show up on the live broadcast.
“Hey,” said the taunting voice over the speakers, “I can hear my own voice on the news. Hello universe, this is Arthur Blacke calling. That guy you are looking at is an imposter. I am coming to arrest him right now. Don’t worry, I will save the day again.”
Great, thought Arthur, I am a smartass with a twisted sense of humor in at least two realities. He glanced around to see if his friends were ready for their performance, and got nods and winks. He wasn’t happy about his plan. A lot of people were going to freak out, but it couldn’t be helped.
“My hands are too tired to hold him,” he screamed, “the bomb is going to go off.” There was a loud bang and a bright flash of light, and the room went dark.
All around the universe sentient beings watched the explosion, and then the live broadcast ceased. Across the stars there was a collective wail of misery and despair.
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Pouring My Art Out by Arthur H. Browne is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.Based on a work at https://pouringmyartout.wordpress.com/.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported License.
Pouring My Art Out 