Walter Stickle and the Galactic Rangers, page 16
A truncated scream and a blinding flash of light, and Walter was left with a handful of ash in his grasp and a somewhat larger pile at his feet.
“What did you just do?” he stammered. “Where did he go?”
“Your primitive mind required tangible proof of the reality of this situation, Mr. Stickle,” said Gak.
Walter dropped to his knees and sifted through the dust that moments before had been a living, breathing, and incredibly smelly creature. He looked up at the captain. “You killed him?”
“He was executed by order of the Congress of Planets,” said Kleeg.
“You murdered him.”
Captain Kleeg lifted Walter to his feet and bent over him so they were face to face. “Now, do you believe, Mr. Stickle?”
Walter let the dust fall through his fingers and looked up at Kleeg. “I believe all right. I believe you’re a murderer!” He latched onto Kleeg’s ears and pulled as hard as he could. “I’m going to rip this hokey makeup off your stupid, painted head. We’ll see who you really are underneath.” When the backward ears wouldn’t detach, he tore and clawed at giant man’s oversized skull. “Why won’t this thing come off?”
Kleeg grabbed him by the throat, hoisted him into the air, and threw him against the bulkhead. “I am real, Mr. Stickle, and I feel real pain. Do not do that again.”
“But you’re supposed to be the good guys,” said Walter.
“We enforce the laws of this galaxy, and we enforce them to the letter.”
“Is murder one of them?”
“Mr. Stickle, this is a galaxy governed by strict laws that I do not expect you to understand. Your planet is still too primitive to be admitted into the Congress but one day our emissaries will return, and you will be offered the choice of joining our peaceful society.”
“Or what?”
“We cannot permit war and interstellar aggression in our galaxy.”
“Your galaxy?”
“Ours is a peaceful galaxy,” said Kleeg, “and the Rangers keep that peace. It has been this way for a thousand sidereals. Primitive, warring planets such as yours are allowed to continue only as long as they show some promise for the future. When they advance to the point where they are able to adversely affect other civilizations, they are offered the choice of peace or destruction.”
“When was the last time someone said ‘no?’”
The captain nodded toward the ashes on the deck.
“So, you destroyed his world?” Walter said. “No wonder he hated you.”
“His race was a band of savage pirates.”
“What gives you the right to judge them?”
“The combined voices of trillions of sentient life-forms who have chosen peace over chaos judged him, not I.”
“But why are you here? We can’t hurt anyone but ourselves.”
“We have come for the one called Tobine.”
“Oh right, I forgot — the Evil One, the criminal mastermind you’ve been chasing for years from planet to planet and galaxy to galaxy, and who is now hiding on Earth. That is so stupid. There’s no one hiding on Earth. That was a comic strip. If you’re real, why are you in a comic strip?”
“Captain,” Sparks interrupted. “I did a sweep of the ship.”
“And?” said Kleeg.
“And I’ve found something.”
First Officer Gak looked over Sparks’ shoulder. “Captain, it appears the ship’s circuitry has been compromised. The view screen has been transmitting our coordinates and visuals to a location outside this vessel.”
“Very clever,” the captain said. “Screen off. Until further orders, all communications will be by subluminal transmission only. Is that clear?”
“But Captain,” said Sparks, “we will be unable to communicate with Ranger Command.”
“Understood, Mr. Sparks. Can you identify the location of the communicator?”
“In addition to Mr. Stickle’s, there appears to be another, but I’m unable to pinpoint it,” said Sparks.
“Explain.”
“It’s shielded and moving, sir.”
“Life-form scan?”
“Unable to comply, Captain,” said Gak. “Sunspot activity is blocking long range scanners.”
“Could it be our scout ship?”
“That could account for the presence of Argonian technology in Mr. Stickle’s TV,” said Gak.
“It’s not your scout ship,” said Walter. “Your scout ship crashed on July 7, 1947 in Roswell, New Mexico. It was the big UFO story of that time. You asked me to find out, and I did. Look it up yourself if you don’t believe me.”
First Officer Gak checked his console and moments later said, “Mr. Stickle is correct, Captain. Reports are conflicting, but it appears that our scout ship did crash over sixty Earth years ago, coincident with its last transmission.”
“But that transmission indicated a safe landing.”
“It would appear that was in error.”
“Faked?”
“Perhaps, or simply premature.”
“Survivors?” said the captain.
“Inconclusive but unlikely,” said Gak. “There were reports of bodies located, but none of survivors. Their government, after initially confirming the crash, denied everything, and I am unable to access their computers at the location they refer to as ‘Area 51.’”
Walter wanted to throw up. “I think I felt better about this when I thought it was all an hallucination.”
“Hallucination?” Kleeg roared. “We are pursuing a dangerous madman who must be brought to justice.”
Walter stared at the pirate’s ashes. “I don’t know if I like your kind of justice.”
“Mr. Stickle,” said Kleeg, “that scout ship was sent to your planet carrying four crewmen and a company of Rangers in cryo-stasis. They are all dead because of Tobine, two hundred Rangers dead. Do not speak to me of justice.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” said Walter. “Why did you bring me here anyway?”
“For information, Mr. Stickle,” said Gak.
“I don’t know anything. I’m a claims rep for Social Security, for God’s sake. I’m a government drone. I’m nobody.”
“You are in possession of advanced communications equipment of Argonian origin. We need to know how you acquired it.”
“I have satellite TV, two hundred channels, but someone installed twenty more last Sunday. You guys were on the new sci-fi channel. That’s all I know. Can I go now?”
“Did you see the one who installed this modification?” asked Gak.
“No. I thought you did it.”
“Interesting, but the question remains, ‘Why?’ Why would Tobine select this particular Earthling to communicate with us? And to what purpose?”
“Look. I have nothing to do with this,” said Walter. “Nobody selected me. You just showed up on my TV one night.”
“Could it be a relay transmitter?” Sparks asked.
“Possibly,” said Gak. “The other communications device is mobile, therefore smaller and less powerful. A fixed-location transmitter would be useful. It is possible that Mr. Stickle stumbled upon us by accident, though I find that an unlikely coincidence.”
“I can’t help you,” Walter said. “I don’t know anything.”
“You will help us, Mr. Stickle,” said Kleeg.
“What could I possibly do to help you?”
“You will tell us where Kelso is,” Gak said.
“If I do, will you let me go?”
“You have my word, Mr. Stickle.”
Walter stared at the pirate’s ashes.
Gak and Kleeg exchanged glances, and Gak nodded.
“If you are not with us,” Gak said, “you are against us. If you do not help us, you leave us no choice.”
“What does that mean?”
“We will be forced to terminate all life-forms within a sufficient radius of your communications unit to ensure that the threat is eliminated.”
“You would destroy Pitville?”
“You leave us no choice, Mr. Stickle.”
“Thousands of innocent people? That’s murder, but then your Captain is pretty good at that, isn’t he? We’re not stupid, you know. If you destroy Pitville, they’ll know, and Earth will be ready for you when you come back again. You won’t do to us what you did those pirates.”
“From this distance, your archaic detection systems will record the impact as a rogue asteroid strike. They will mourn the loss, but they will not know the truth, and you will not be there to tell them.”
Walter collapsed on the deck. “Everyone I know lives there. Vivien is there. My family. You can’t just kill all those people.”
“We are authorized by the Congress of Planets to use whatever means at our disposal to capture or kill the fugitive.”
“You’d trade thousands of lives for one person?”
“Tobine is not a person,” said the captain. “Tobine is an evil creature that preys on planets. You have no idea of the power and destructive intent of such a one.”
“Would you not sacrifice thousands to save billions?” Gak said.
“Kelso is Tobine?” said Walter.
“Mr. Stickle,” said Gak, “if you help us, your friends and family will be spared, and you will be a hero. Your planet will never know, but we will know, and we will not forget.”
“But you’ll leave Earth after that?”
“The Congress of Planets has no business on your world for hundreds of Earth years.”
“I don’t know. This isn’t like choosing a career, or buying a house, or picking out the right suit and socks to match. What if you’re lying?”
Captain Kleeg shimmered and darkened. “Enough! Mr. Klaxon, do you have the coordinates for Mr. Stickle’s residence?”
“Laid in and locked on, Captain. Powering up weapon systems now.”
“Give me four bursts in a tight formation. You may fire when ready.”
“Captain,” said Gak. “Without the view screen, targeting will be forty percent less accurate.”
“Good point, Mr. Gak. Klaxon, make that six bursts.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” said Klaxon.
A faint tremor passed through the ship. The deck began to vibrate as the primary weapon’s harmonics powered up and it came online.
Klaxon began the countdown, “Firing in five, four, three, two…”
“Wait,” said Walter.
Captain Kleeg raised his hand. The harmonic vibrations wound down, and the ship became quiet again in the dead of space.
“Okay, I’ll tell you,” said Walter. “What choice do I have? He’ll be at the Comic-Con in Dantford tomorrow at 2:00 p.m. giving a speech. I’ll tell you exactly where it is.”
“Klaxon,” the captain said. “When will we achieve Earth orbit?”
“In less than two Earth hours, sir.”
“Good.” He patted Walter on the shoulder. “Relax, Mr. Stickle. It will all be over soon.”
Chapter 14
Captain Kleeg assured Walter that no harm would come to Pitville since he was cooperating. He assured him that by telling them Kelso’s location, no one would get hurt, other than Kelso, of course. He assured him that life would return to normal for all concerned when it was over. Walter leaned against the bulkhead in his red and yellow Ranger suit, feeling frustrated and less than assured. He wanted to tell the world about the danger that they faced. As member of the human race, it was his duty to warn them, but who in their right mind would believe a man who claimed to have been on the bridge of a comic strip?
“Wait, I figured it out,” he said, but no one was listening. They were busy maneuvering the ship into orbit around Earth. Walter didn’t care. “You’re making a mistake. You think Kelso is Tobine, but he isn’t. Kelso’s just his employee. He has the other communicator and he’s writing the comic strip to let Tobine know what you guys are doing.”
“Did you deduce that on your own, Mr. Stickle, or with the help of your Galactic Rangers Secret Decoder Wheel?” said Gak, looking up from his console.
“What?”
The first officer turned to the captain. “Sir, do you realize that the humans have made a business out of buying and selling inaccurate and non-functioning replicas of Galactic Ranger artifacts and weaponry? I believe I am disgusted. This race is mercenary beyond imagination.”
“Tell me about it,” said Walter.
The captain grunted. “I will be happy when we put this backward planet in our rearview sensors.”
“Will you just listen to me for a minute?” Walter said. ”A nationally syndicated comic strip is the perfect way to communicate with Tobine. Kelso doesn’t even have to know where Tobine is. He could be anywhere the strip is published, and since it’s online that could be anywhere on the planet. There are no calls to trace, no emails, nothing to connect the two of them. You could torture Kelso till the cows come home or turn him to dust like that Space Pirate over there, which somebody should clean up, by the way, and he still wouldn’t be able to help you. You’re wasting your time with Kelso.”
Gak stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Perhaps your species is not as primitive as we have been led to believe.”
“It was just a lucky guess, really,” said Walter.
“Of course, Kelso is not Tobine,” said Captain Kleeg. “Kelso is Tobine’s underling.”
“You knew that? Why didn’t you say so?”
“It was obvious to us,” Gak replied, “and therefore did not merit verbalizing. The fact that your TV was recently enhanced with Argonian communications technology implies the existence of an Argonian on your world. The existence of a second communicator and the fact that this Kelso has been publishing our movements further implied that there are two of them. I can query the computer to calculate the odds of Kelso and Tobine being one in the same entity, but I can assure you they are not.”
“Tobine and Kelso are Argonian?”
Neither alien replied.
“I think I have a right to know,” Walter said.
“No, you do not,” said the captain.
“Captain,” said Sparks. “I have isolated the additional circuitry. It was installed some time ago during a layover on Argon.”
“Another agent, no doubt, whom we will have to root out later,” Kleeg said. “Can you disable it?”
“I don’t have the tools onboard to remove it without damaging our visual capabilities and compression drive, sir, but I can rig a bypass and scramble its signal. It will continue to function but will do them no good.”
“Very well. See to it. Time estimate?”
“I can have the bypass done in approximately one Earth day. We will be fully functional and able to leave orbit then.”
“So, we are going in blind — a very clever move in this dangerous game,” Kleeg said to the blank view screen. “Strategies, Mr. Gak?”
“Sir, we have only one option. Without full viewer and sensor capabilities the accuracy of our trans-beamer is severely compromised. Because of this and because we cannot lock onto Kelso’s communication device, there is only a fifty percent probability of a successful beaming to that location. Risking a landing is, in my opinion, out of the question, as it would adversely affect our time estimates for Earth’s achieving space compression. And activating the view screen to allow an accurate trans-beaming reactivates their monitoring circuitry, which discloses our intent and defeats its purpose. I recommend we wait until repairs are made.”
“Kelso is only there for the day,” Walter said. “This is your only chance.”
“Our options are limited, Mr. Stickle,” Gak replied.
“Limited to nuking the place?” Walter went over to the communications officer. “Sparks, do you still have the coordinates for my TV?”
Sparks looked to the captain, who nodded. “Aye,” Sparks replied.
“If you were to lock on that, would that fix the beaming problem?”
“Yes, if we were beaming to your residence.”
“Okay, here’s what we do. We beam to my house. I’ll get a car and drive us to the Comic-Con. You guys do the rest.”
“They will see us and know we are not human,” said Captain Kleeg.
“Captain, we’re going to a comic convention. Everyone there will be cosplaying. It will be fine.”
“Define ‘cosplay,’” Gak said.
“Costume play,” said Walter. “People go to these things all the time and dress up like the characters. I’d be willing to bet that we’ll see a hundred Galactic Rangers who look just like you. Well, maybe not exactly like you. You’ll be taller and your weapons will actually work.”
“Interesting and surprising for such a low-level intellect, Mr. Stickle,” said Gak. “Captain, I believe Mr. Stickle’s plan is worth our consideration. We have a much higher probability of a successful beaming to this fixed and known location.”
“Wait,” said Walter. “It’s not a hundred percent?”
“Nothing is absolutely certain in physical science, Mr. Stickle.”
“Oh.” Walter felt queasy.
“Acclimation will not be required if we agree to this cosplay plan, thus allowing us to interact with the humans undetected without the usual preparation period, and once we apprehend Kelso, Mr. Sparks will be able to bring us back to the ship by locking on to our communicators.”
The captain nodded his agreement. “Gak, you’re with me. Mr. Klaxon, you have the chair. Mr. Sparks, continue monitoring but no communications with the away team unless initiated by us.”
“Aye, aye, Captain,” said Sparks.
“Mr. Stickle?” Kleeg motioned Walter toward the lift door.
Captain Kleeg, First Officer Gak, and Walter stood together in the beaming room. The Rangers had their weapons drawn. Walter carried nothing but the same sense of dread he always had when the roller coaster got to the top of the hill and the world was about to fall out from under him.
“Ready to beam, Mr. Sparks,” the captain said into his wrist communicator.
Walter held his breath, a pointless, final act before every one of his molecules including his breath dissolved into a shimmer of light. For one brief moment, he was alone in the vacuum of space, surrounded by nothing but the vastness of the universe and his own world beneath him. In the next moment, his atoms flumped between those of his roof shingles and he found himself shivering on his living room floor with Gak and Kleeg staring at him.
