Walter Stickle and the Galactic Rangers, page 17
It was Saturday morning. The sun was shining. A neighbor was mowing his lawn and kids were playing outside in the street. It was a typical Saturday in Pitville.
Walter went to the hall closet and picked out three identical raincoats and waterproof fedoras. The salesman had given him a good price on them when he bought his suits three-and-a-half years ago.
“Put these on,” he said. “The hat will hide your big head and ears, and if people ask about your skin, tell them you’re cyanotic.”
“Where is the conveyance?” the captain said.
“We have to walk to the car. It’s not that far.”
The captain grabbed Walter’s arm and squeezed until he yelped. “We are not at the comic convention. We will be exposed. The Earthlings will know we are not human,” said the captain.
“Just let me do the talking. Can I have my arm back, please?”
Kleeg released him and said to Gak, “Set weapons to broadband stun with twenty-five second lapse.”
“Yes, sir. That should be sufficient if we are surprised by the humans,” said Gak.
“What’s a twenty-five second lapse?” Walter asked.
“The subject is stunned, and the previous twenty-five seconds of neural memories are neutralized without permanent damage,” Gak replied.
“So, no turning my neighbors to dust?”
“No, Mr. Stickle,” said Gak.
“Can you at least turn my next-door neighbor’s floodlights to dust?”
“Proceed, Mr. Stickle,” the captain said, pushing Walter toward the front door. “We have a job to do.”
Under the circumstances, Walter saw no point in trying to act normal. To do so would have attracted too much attention. So on that sunny summer day, the two bluish, big-headed, backward-eared aliens and the undersized human who led them, dressed in outlandish red and yellow superhero costumes hidden beneath raincoats and fedoras, left the house looking like a trio of off-world gangsters.
Frank and Biff were playing catch in the street. They stopped to watch as the three headed for the corner.
“Summer Halloween party,” Walter called to them. “Didn’t you guys hear?”
The two boys came over and eyed them suspiciously. “Seriously, what gives, Mr. S?” asked Biff.
“These are friends of mine,” said Walter, “very tall friends. This is Mr. Gak…enstein, and this is Mr. Kleegula. We’re on our way to the Comic-Con.”
“Cool,” said Frank. “Check out the cosplay, Biff. Mr. S and his posse are really rocking the Galactic Rangers.”
Biff opened Captain Kleeg’s coat. “Whoa, nice quads, dude, and look at that six-pack. Are they real?”
Kleeg growled at him.
“Nice,” Biff beamed and gave him a high-five.
“He works out a lot,” said Walter. “He has a tryout with the Celtics next week. Like the makeup and the ears? The guys spent hours on them.”
“Very cool. Why no makeup for you?”
“I’m going as Stickle, the human, you know, like in the comic?”
“Oh, right. I thought they’d kill you off for sure, Mr. S.”
Walter met Kleeg’s hard stare and then looked back at the boys. “Well, who knows what will happen next? Say, are you kids going to the convention? I heard that Kelso will be there.”
“Our moms wouldn’t let us,” said Frank, kicking at the grass.
“Too bad. If I get a chance, I’ll get Kelso to autograph something for you.”
“Thanks, Mr. S. You’re all right.”
“Well, we’ve got to get going,” Walter said. “See you guys later.”
Walter waved the Rangers on, and the boys went back to playing catch.
“Captain,” said Gak, as they rounded the corner, “I believe our translators need significant reprogramming. I understood very little of what the sub-humans said.”
“They’re not sub-humans, they’re kids,” said Walter. “That’s how they talk.”
“What were the names you gave those children?” Captain Kleeg asked. “It was not a code, was it?”
“It’s not a code, Captain. They were just names I made up to make you sound more human.”
“Any tricks and there will be consequences,” Kleeg said. “Are we clear on that?”
“Crystal,” said Walter. “You know, you don’t have to keep threatening me. I’m helping, aren’t I? I mean, I’m not a big fan of your methods, but maybe with all your advanced intelligence and everything, you know best. I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt.”
“There is no doubt, Mr. Stickle,” said First Officer Gak, “only duty and the law.”
“Right. Congress of Planets Article blah-blah point blah. I just hope your congress does a better job than ours.”
Walter kept to the side streets and out of the center of town. When they reached the garden apartments at Alcorn Lake, he stopped under a tree near Mr. Genischewitz’s Prius.
“You two wait here while I get the key from Lenny. He’ll have a heart attack if he sees you.”
The captain tossed a nano-cuff around one of Walter’s wrists. Walter’s hands were still free, but when the cuff tightened, he knew there would be no running away even if he wanted to. “That will remain in place until our mission is complete,” said Kleeg.
“Maybe we should work on our trust issues on the drive to Dantford,” Walter said.
He jogged over to Lenny’s door. The old man was peering out from behind the living room drapes. Walter rang the bell and knocked.
Lenny answered without opening the door, “Who is it?”
“Lenny, it’s me, Vivien’s friend, Walter. I was wondering if I could borrow your car, just for the day. I’ll fill it up before I bring it back.”
“Who are those two men out there hiding in the trees?”
“They’re not hiding. They’re just a couple of friends. We’re going up to Dantford for a convention. I would really appreciate it if you could lend me your car. I’ll buy you dinner.”
“At the all-you-can-eat smorgasbord in Washington Hills?”
“Can’t you think of anything closer?” Walter said.
“Those are my terms, Mr. Big Spender. Take it or leave it.”
“Okay,” Walter said, glancing back at Kleeg pacing under the tree, “I’ll take it.”
The door opened a crack. Lenny squinted at the Rangers and then at Walter. “I don’t like the looks of those two, and what’s that under your coat?”
Walter opened his coat, and Lenny gasped.
“It’s okay, Lenny,” Walter said.
“Go away!”
He tried to slam the door, but Walter stuck his foot in it. “It’s just a costume. We’re dressed up for the convention.”
“Please, go away. I don’t want any trouble.”
“Lenny, please. No trouble, but I really need your car.”
Lenny threw the key fob at him. “Take it,” he said. “Keep it. Just leave me alone.”
“I’m sorry,” said Walter. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“Just go away!”
The door slammed shut. Walter picked up the key and returned to the car. He got into the driver’s seat, and the Rangers squeezed into the back. The Prius was parked in the full sun, and it was stifling inside.
“This conveyance is inadequate,” Captain Kleeg complained, his cramped legs jammed into the seat in front of him and his head pushed up against the fabric roof liner.
“Earth is many years from developing space compression, Captain,” said Gak.
“I know that,” Kleeg growled, “but the weapons console is primitive, and the life support system is malfunctioning.”
“There are no weapons unless you count the horn,” said Walter. “Here, let me turn on the A/C. Better?”
A car drove through the parking lot belching blue smoke from its tailpipe. Walter recognized the man from the Laundromat, and they exchanged waves.
“That craft is on fire,” said Kleeg.
“He just needs a tune-up,” Walter said.
“These are what the Earthlings call automobiles, sir,” Gak said. “They are powered by primitive engines that rely on a highly inefficient sequence of exothermic chemical reactions between fossil fuel and oxygen.”
“I thought cars ran on unleaded gas?” Walter said into the rearview mirror.
Gak continued, “Survey projections are that this civilization will expend its available fossil resources approximately fifty Earth years before the discovery of an alternate commercially-viable source of power. The resulting global resource wars will delay the discovery of compressed space by another fifty years.”
“I was awake for the briefing,” the captain said, tapping his finger on the glass. “Laser-proof?”
“Negative, sir. This conveyance is equipped with very little armor.”
“It’s a car, not a tank,” said Walter. He brought up the GPS, keyed in the convention center address, and they drove off.
Chapter 15
They arrived at the convention center parking lot in the midst of an argument. Walter swung the car into an open spot near the main doors and slammed on the brakes, sending First Officer Gak thumping against the front seat.
“There, you see?” Walter said. “You should always wear your seat belt, even in the back.”
“I refuse to wear your primitive restraints,” said Gak. “They are an archaic and dangerous technology.”
“It’s the law, and if we got into an accident you’d go right through the windshield.”
“The craft’s stabilization unit should compensate, should it not?” Captain Keeg said.
“Captain, we don’t even have all-wheel drive.”
“Then the electromagnetic fields surrounding the chairs should be more than sufficient.”
“What electromagnetic fields? This is Earth, Captain. Remember? We’re in a Prius, not Scout Ship Alpha.”
Kleeg folded his arms across his chest and glared at Walter. “What is your plan now, Mr. Stickle?”
Walter looked in the rearview mirror. “Kelso is scheduled to speak in the main auditorium at 2:00 p.m. He’ll be signing autographs after that. I figure it will be safer to corner him onstage where there are fewer people around for you to dust. You’ll hide on one side of the stage, Captain, and Gak will hide on the other. I’ll come down the main aisle so he can’t make a run for the doors. He’ll be surrounded. We’ll go on my signal. I’ll get as close to the stage as I can, drop my coat, and announce that the Galactic Rangers are here. I’ll make up something, like that Tobine is masquerading as Kelso and we’ve come to apprehend him. The audience will go nuts. They’ll think it’s a publicity stunt. You stun him, cuff him, and beam out. I’ll just disappear into the crowd. As long as you guys do your job, no one gets hurt. Sound good?”
The captain nodded. “It will suffice.”
A security guard knocked on Walter’s window and motioned for him to roll it down.
“You can’t park here, buddy,” he said. “This is special pass only.”
Gak put his hand on Walter’s shoulder and nodded in the mirror.
“If you let me get out of the car,” Walter said, “I’ll get my pass. It’s stuck way down in my pocket.”
The three got out of the Prius.
“Nice costumes,” the guard said, eyeing Gak and Kleeg. “Are you guys the Blue Man Group, or some alien basketball team or something?”
“No,” said Walter. “We’re the Galactic Rangers. This is Captain Kleeg and First Officer Gak. Why don’t you show him how realistic your Lason-T is, Gak, while I get the pass?”
As Walter fumbled through his coat pocket, First Officer Gak reset his Lason-T and shot the guard at point-blank range. The flash of light left the man dazed. Gak went around to the driver’s side of the car next to theirs, melted a hole in their windshield, removed their special pass placard, and set it behind the windshield of the Prius.
The guard’s eyes refocused on Walter in a question that seemed to be stuck on the tip of his tongue.
Walter smiled. “I left the pass on the dash. Is that okay?”
“Yeah, that’s fine,” said the guard. “Awesome outfits, guys. You have a good one.” He tipped his hat and left.
“Thank you,” Walter said to Gak.
“You are welcome,” replied Gak.
They made their way to the main entrance where Walter bought three general admission tickets. On any normal day, two blue-skinned aliens and a human dressed in Galactic Ranger uniforms, raincoats, and hats might look suspicious, but not this day. The family in front of them in line was dressed as a green Batman, a yellow Catwoman, punk Batgirl, and Robin in a baby carriage. The teenagers behind them with the orange and lime-green hair, pierced ears, tattoos everywhere, and preponderance of spandex and leather, were cosplaying as the Watchmen. Walter, Gak, and Kleeg were invisible.
The exhibit hall was as large as a football field, filled with display booths, and packed with people milling about, dressed as superheroes, super villains, and minor characters from movies, TV shows, graphic novels, and comics. The three were not the only ones in Galactic Ranger uniforms. There were blue-skinned humans in all shapes and sizes dressed in red and yellow costumes everywhere.
“Hey man,” said a skinny teenager dressed in yellow footie pajamas and red rubber gloves. His long hair was dyed blue. “What’s with the trench coats?”
“Repeat, human?” said Captain Kleeg, adjusting his translator.
“Who are you supposed to be, Captain Dork?” the boy said.
Walter stepped between them. “Obviously, we’re Rangers in the process of acclimating, but I guess you’d actually have to read Galactic Rangers instead of just looking at the pictures to know what that is, Commander Pajamas. Now, hit the road, before First Officer Gak decides to vaporize you.”
“Yeah, whatever,” the boy said and walked away.
They skirted the perimeter of the room. Walter stopped at a food cart.
“Mr. Stickle?” said the captain.
“I’m starving. I’m getting a hot dog,” Walter said. “I haven’t eaten since yesterday. Do either of you guys want anything?”
“We do not eat dog, Mr. Stickle,” said the captain.
“It’s not real dog. They just call it that. How about some fries, then?”
Walter handed an order of fries to Gak who scanned them with a device from his belt that, when it was done, blinked purple and beeped. “These appear to be sticks of reconstituted, inert vegetable matter with very little nutritional value and extremely high fat and sodium content,” Gak said, watching Walter wolf down his hot dog and then dig into his fries. The first officer sniffed one and tasted it. “They are, however, not unpleasant compared to standard rations,” he said, “not unpleasant at all.”
The captain grabbed the fries from Gak and threw them into the trashcan. “I would remind you that we are not here on this planet for a cultural exchange. Where is the auditorium, Mr. Stickle?”
They found the auditorium at the back of the exhibit hall. It was jammed, and they were turning people away at the doors. Walter led the Rangers down a side hallway toward the stage door. The way was blocked by three burly security guards who didn’t believe his story about a publicity stunt even if they did think that the three’s costumes were topnotch. Walter asked Gak to show them how realistic his Lason-T was. The first officer complied.
After tying up and stowing the unconscious and memory-erased guards in a broom closet, they clipped their all-access event badges to their uniforms and went backstage. Fans clogged the wings. The emcee was at the podium doing his introduction of Kelso to a packed house. The three worked their way through the crowd to the backdrop that was a reproduction of the first three-panel Galactic Rangers strip ever published. Walter whispered to the captain to take up position on the other side and for Gak to remain there.
“I’m heading to the front of the auditorium now. Wait for my signal. No one gets dusted, right?” Walter said.
The captain checked his Lason-T and went off behind the backdrop to the other side of the stage.
When they were alone, Walter said, “Listen, Gak, you don’t seem like such a nut case, not like your boss. I think that somewhere deep down beneath that blue skin beats a good heart. Please don’t hurt these people. We might be primitive, selfish, and stupid, but we’re doing the best we can.”
Gak removed Walter’s hand from his arm and said, “I am honor bound to follow my captain and do my duty, Mr. Stickle, but I promise you that justice will be done.”
“I guess I can’t ask for any more than that, can I?” Walter said.
“No, you cannot.”
“Okay, here I go.”
He took the side hallway to the front of the auditorium and used his stolen badge to force his way through the unhappy crowd around the front doors. Once inside, he kept to the wall, made his way down front, and waited.
“And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for,” said the emcee. “The talented, the amazing, the mysterious Kelso!”
The lights dimmed to an eerie blue and from somewhere in the wings a fog machine began blowing vanilla-smelling mist across the stage, accompanied by weird, electronic music. On center stage where the fog was thickest, two red dots like eyes began to pulse and rise up within the fog. The crowd gasped. Walter did too. The eyes were attached to something dark that was moving to the podium.
The fog thinned, and the audience gasped again. Before them, stood Tobine, the dark evil one, in all his malevolence. The pulsing red eyes were two small lights attached to the top of the costume Kelso was wearing. The costume itself wasn’t much more than a black sheet covered with tiny metallic spangles that reflected the different hues of blue the spotlights cast onto it, but it was pure evil. The man was a genius.
He flipped a switch on the microphone that Walter assumed was some sort of voice modulator for it made what he said sound deep and dark and scary.
“People of Earth. Heed this warning.”
Many in the crowd began to boo. A girl dressed as Wonder Woman stood up and began to scream obscenities, waving a sign that read, “Tobine sucks.”
