 
FLIGHT OF THE INTREPID MONKEY

By

Mac Zazski

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 Mac Zazski

Discover other titles by Mac Zazski at Smashwords.com

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 1

The metallic gray transport swaggered through the early city morning like a content bulldog on its way to breakfast. The large yellow plastic slides that adorned its sides stood in stark contrast to the blue-gray sameness of the buildings that stood at attention along its route.

Gil Johnson absently slipped into a seat, inserting his ticket into the slot near the armrest, feeling the chair hum to life beneath him. Sipping from his steaming cup of crappy coffee, he noticed a young boy two rows up wearing a baseball hat. Baseball. When he was younger, God how he had loved the game! When the government subsidized tickets arrived for him and his father, he had been so excited he had not sleep for weeks!

He remembered passing through the security detector, the slight headache it had caused as it scanned every molecule in his body, the inability to focus on the first few innings, but he hadn't minded; what was 3 months of chemical imbalances compared with going to a real ball game? So what that the machine caused you to grow hair in unwanted places, he had worn his beard proudly. The beard had been a status thing, to be a third grader with a beard meant that everyone would know that you had either been to your one ball game or had visited a South American country. God to sit up in those stands, only sixteen to seventeen hundred feet from the action. The first six levels were specialty boxes owned by corporations, he and his dad had sat in the 14th level; much closer than his friend Jagalbert and his Dad would sit 4 years later. He would never forget the distant echo of the announcers and the smell of the diesel lubricant that had been sprayed on the fat man who sat next to him, allowing him to fit into his seat.

His chair hummed more strongly and moved rapidly through the transport doors. Arriving at the top of the slide, the chair jettisoned Gil forward and returned to the transports interior as Gil slid towards the sidewalk, desperately trying to keep his coffee from spilling. He landed awkwardly onto the moving sidewalk which rumbled towards his office complex.

"You must be mad, Gil," he began muttering to himself, dropping his coffee cup into a waste container that rolled passed in the opposite direction.

He told himself he would work up the nerve to try the Aryan Coffee shop tomorrow, but in his heart he knew he would not. What intimidated him so much? Was it the prices or the gorgeous Scandinavian nudes who served the coffee?

"You must be mad, Gil," he muttered again. People like him didn't belong in the Aryan anymore than they belonged at ballgames. In a sense it was too special for an ordinary guy like him and if Gil was anything, he was ordinary.

Gil had graduated 110th in his class of 220, did not drive, did not smoke, did not read anything, did not think anything and no longer dreamed anything. He would be 45 today or tomorrow, he could never remember which day it was, but in 45 years nothing had changed, nothing would change, every day, every night, everything, the same-old-same-old. That baseball game and that beard had been his one brief moment of celebrity, his one brush with being special and different. That and marrying Julie; if there was any proof of his worth whatsoever, it was that he had married Julie.

As his side walk slid towards his doorway he hesitated just a second before stepping off and through the door that led to his cube. It was a harsh reality to face early in the morning after a crappy cup of coffee that you had peaked in third grade.

Settling his briefcase onto his desk, he saw Miss Alshunt, his secretary, walking in with his daily work orders. Gil was sure that in the entire history of mankind and extending out into its foreseeable future, there never was and never would be a woman as bone numbingly ugly as Miss Alshunt. The fact that he did not become physically ill at the sight of her every morning suggested an inner strength bordering on super human.

"Your reports, Mr. Johnson," she intoned in a voice that sounded like slate having intercourse with a cheese grater.

"Thank you, Miss Alshunt."

"Is there anything else I can do for you?"

The question hung in the air like smoke on a humid day. One day he would reply with something witty and sarcastic and brilliant, some well thought out phrase that would be repeated as legendary by his colleagues, but today was not that day.

"No thank you, Miss Alshunt. That is all for now."

As his personal troll exited his cube Gil began to carefully study his work load and ignore his environment. It was necessary to ignore his environment, in fact, they taught it to all government employees. Too many had been driven mad by the sheer monotony of their existence, so it was better to ignore one's tiny cube, one's impersonal desk, one's impersonal life, then to acknowledge them.

Gil Johnson made his living as an Associate Redundancy Creator, that is, he fired people all day, every day. Since the government had taken over every facet of every enterprise, the Redundancy Creator was a job in high demand. Gil had fired everyone in every occupation, test pilots, convenience store clerks, lesbian writers, pornographic photographers, violinists, monkey trainers, doctors, lawyers, bank attendants, clerks, journalists, hair stylists, gay matadors, circus clowns, gardeners, CEOs, and magicians. He had fired Redundancy Associates and was known, in his own secluded circle, as a master at his job, though no one would ever go so far as to actually compliment him to his face.

Today's work load gave Gil nothing new or interesting to look forward to and it was not until well after lunch that anything interesting happened. He would remember it, in typical Gil fashion, as a not so different day, either on his birthday, or the day before it, he could never remember which, when Captain Jerod Stanwich entered his office. Gil, of course, took no note of the captain's appearance immediately, keeping his head down and his eyes on the goal, which was to disconnect the captain from his governmentally sponsored employment.

"Please, sit down," Gil stated, offering a chair with a small motion of his hand.

The captain took a seat, which immediately gave Gil a sense of hope. Many people preferred to stand, as if the act of folding their bodies into a chair was the reason they were losing their jobs.

"I suppose you know why you are here..."

"I guess you are going to fire me," stated the captain evenly.

"I am afraid that you have grasped the reason quite quickly," began Gil as he thumbed over the paperwork he had previously prepared.

"Will you be taking the Aurora?" the captain inquired.

The question momentarily threw Gil into confusion, "The Aurora?" he asked, "What would that be?"

"Why, my ship," responded the captain, a trace of pride in his voice.

"Oh, no, no, not at all," Gil smiled, recovering, "your ship remains yours, of course." Edging the paper towards the captain, he hoped for a quick signature. "If you would just sign there, at the bottom, we can conclude..."

"What about my men? What will happen to them?"

More questions, God how Gil hated questions, "They can apply for new positions separately or with you as the crew of your ship..."

"I own a garbage scow," interrupted the captain, the same trace of pride in his voice. "If the government dismisses us, what service could we possibly perform? It's not as if we could become a transport ship, we're much too large to have anything but the biggest freight offered to us and no one would trust we'd gotten the holds clean enough..."

"Perhaps a sale of your assets to a competitor," suggested Gil, reoffering the paperwork for the captain's signature.

"They'd offer me next to nothing," came the reply. "Our unemployment insurance will run out in three weeks time. Most of my men have no savings; they will starve without jobs and..."

"I have a pamphlet," Gil broke in, anxious to shorten the interview. "It's entitled "How NOT to Starve When You Are Out Of Work" see? I have been told it is so helpful that several people have lasted eight months before starving to death and it is an awfully quick read, plenty of helpful hints..."

"I won't be able to make the payments on the ship now," mused the captain thoughtfully, stroking the fair haired goatee on his chin. "I've only got sixteen more payments, which is a real shame..."

"It's got photos and illustrations; I can give you a whole bunch of them once you sign this form..."

"Have you ever worked garbage?" The captain's hand landed on Gil's desk with a happy thud. "Nothing like it..."

"I'm not familiar actually..."

"First you load the garbage on board the main ship, into one of the two main storage areas and then, once you're in space you use your pincers, the pincers are your two shuttle ships you know, well the pincers work together with the main ship and you off load the garbage and force it back through the atmosphere. The stuff burns up on re-entry, it's a great system and the Aurora has a heck of a team. I don't think you could call it bragging to say that no one does garbage the way we do."

"Sounds most efficient..."

"Too much competition," winked the captain, letting Gil in on some inside information, "you have all sorts coming into the business now. It used to be a proud occupation, but now..."

"How can the pincer ships work all day without burning up? Don't they get dreadfully hot?" Gil had asked the questions before he realized it. His brain groaned, who cares, you've got 16 more people to fire, why are you asking questions?

"All of the ship's hulls are made out of a single two foot thick piece of transmorineum. No matter the heat it stays cool, can't be melted, can't be broken or crushed, lasers can't scratch it, cannons can't damage it. It's the same stuff the security forces ships are made out of you know."

Gil thought a moment, "If it's indestructible, can't you get a contract to haul nuclears?" He edged the paper slowly forward, "Might be worth a try..."

"No money in nuclears, too select a market," the captain rumbled. With a slow craning of his neck, he took stock in his surroundings ending with a look at Gil that produced a happy smile, "Here you are trying to be helpful and I'm giving nothing but negative answers." He eyed Gil conspiratorially, "Any other ideas?"

Suddenly Gil felt a closeness between them that made him uneasy, like schoolboys planning some restricted activity behind the headmaster's back.

"Perhaps you could offer you services to the security forces, since you have the same types of ships..."

"The security forces pay next to nothing," the captain stated quietly. "Perhaps given some more time, you might be able to come up with an idea."

"I couldn't ask you back here once you've been fired," stated Gil, seeing a light at the end of the tunnel. "I'm sorry but..."

The captain's eyes became a startling blue, as if lit by an inner fire. "Of course, certainly, I understand." His voice was getting louder and he seemed to be aiming it over his shoulder as if to purposely be overheard, "Yes, you are quite right, let me sign the paper!" Taking the paper that Gil had thrust towards him, he signed with a flourish and a wink. "My men and I will starve as you suggested," he continued loudly. Rising, he bent towards Gil, whispering quickly, "Until later." Quickly slapping Gil's arm, he bolted from the room and was gone.

The strange interview receded from Gil's mind as most things did, buried under the soil of another days work. As he passed out of his cube at the end of the day and onto the moving sidewalk, Gil's mind was preoccupied, as it usually was, with his health. He thought he could hear his heart beating lately and he was sure death was imminent.

Rubbing his chest as the sidewalk slid towards the gray hulk of his transport, he warned himself repeatedly, "Easy Gil, not too fast. You might blow out something, so young, so young..."

Though he had never vocalized the belief, not even to Julie, he had always suspected that God had used leftover parts to make him. Outwardly he didn't look half bad he had convinced himself, but inside, inside was a different story. He was sure that God had used the wrong tubing or something, as if the spool for man tubing had run out and rather than wait for the attending angel to bring up a new spool from the storage area, He had finished the job with left over aardvark tubing. Part aardvark was no way to go through life, but what could he do? If the Creator sees no point in waiting for the right parts, what protest could he lodge? Lost in thought, Gil noticed the attractive young lady sitting next to him only after she had spoken to him.

"So, where do you live?" she asked.

Pulling his briefcase closer, Gil was unprepared to offer a proper defense, "Twenty three Sparrow Crossing," he blurted out. "With my wife," he added a bit too loudly.

"Is she pretty?" asked the young lady playfully.

"She's very beautiful," replied Gil, "and I am very happy to be her husband. Lucky! Lucky is the word! If any man was lucky enough to be in my shoes, well, then...he'd be rather lucky too."

"How long have you been married?"

Gil had the strange sensation that a job interview had erupted in the middle of his commute home. Regaining his composure, he managed to draw himself up and to begin to think. "I don't mean to be rude young lady, but why are you asking me these things?"

"Twenty Three Sparrow Crossing," the girl replied as her chair began to pull away from his towards the slide.

Calling out, she said with a giggle, "She is lucky too, you know."

Momentarily pondering Gil's blank expression, she continued. "Your wife, your wife is lucky to have you. You're not like the rest." With a pretty smile, she repeated, "Twenty Three Sparrow Crossing," as her chair propelled her down the bright yellow slide and down towards the sidewalk.

Gil's chair deposited him down the slide at his usual stop, his heart fear erased by the strange encounter on the transport. What if the girl was a homicidal maniac? He did not believe the government's assertions that it had gotten rid of all homicidal maniacs, one had only to look at the people who worked at laundry mats to realize that the claim was without foundation. He did not wait for the sidewalk to take him home, instead he actually walked himself as the sidewalk moved, climbing the stairs to his apartment and opening his front door in a near panic and almost completely out of breath.

"Darling, I'm home," he managed between gasps. He needed to see Julie; she would have a logical explanation for the whole episode.

Hearing a muffled response from the kitchen, he made his way down the hall in an anxious stupor. Opening the kitchen door, he found Julie bent over the open oven door, examining the contents within.

She smiled, "A few more minutes till dinner," she reported happily. With a quick peck on the mouth, she was passed him, happily oblivious to the stress he was feeling.

"How was your day?" she called out as she made her way down the hall.

"I had a strange encounter on the transport."

His quick answer brought Julie to the alert. It must have been very strange for Gil to have noticed it, for as much as she loved him and knew he loved her, she also knew he spent a good deal of his time locked in his mind, meeting the world in an unobservant daze.

Turning back, she scrutinized his features. "What was so strange about it?"

"Well," began Gil, "an attractive young woman sat next to me on the transport and I was thinking, you know, and at first I didn't really notice her..."

"Thinking about your heart again?" interrupted Julie. "There is nothing wrong with your heart, Gil. Did the girl say something about hearts?"

"No, not at all."

"She didn't say anything about birthdays, did she dear? It is not your birthday, you know, your birthday isn't for months yet."

"No, she didn't say anything about birthdays," replied Gil, disappointed that it wasn't his birthday and that it wouldn't be for some time. He was sure that today was his birthday, or tomorrow, but it wasn't the point, not yet anyway. "No, she didn't say anything about hearts or birthdays. All of a sudden, for no reason at all, she asked me where I lived! I couldn't imagine why but before I knew it, I answered, but I made sure to say that I lived here with my beautiful wife."

Raising an eyebrow, Julie asked, "Just like that, "I live with my beautiful wife", just like that?"

"Well, no. She said, where do you live and I said, Twenty Three Sparrow Crossing with my wife and then she said, what is she like, meaning you, and I said, she is very beautiful..."

"Two correct answers, I'm impressed, go on..."

"And then she said I was lucky to have a beautiful wife and she left." He looked up at her timidly, seeking clarification.

Julie offered him a slight smile, "Probably a survey." Patting his hand, she continued soothingly, "They are always taking surveys in the transports. Last time I traveled on one, I had three girls, one right after the other, asked me questions. It's nothing to be alarmed about."

Gil smiled at her; he was sure she could hear the sound of his heart relaxing. He knew Julie would explain it, Julie always had the answers, it was just one of the things he loved about her.

***

It was after dinner and before the beginning of their favorite variety show, "Bebe and Friends", when they heard a knock on their front door. Julie was up and headed for the door while Gil was admonishing himself that with proper diet and rest, he might last for twenty more years. He had gone as far as seeking a piece of paper to sketch out a tentative exercise schedule, nothing too strenuous mind you, when he realized that Julie had reentered the room with a several guests.

Eyeing the little group in the doorway caused Gil a slight feeling of nausea as he was sure that he knew some of them from somewhere but hadn't the faintest idea of where. Since Gil's only destinations were work and home, the idea of not knowing where he knew them from was even more disturbing.

Julie appeared non-pulsed, but Julie was not easily rattled. Gil, however, knew he was on the verge of a faux pas as he stared from one to the other to another without a single idea of who they were.

"Gil, these people are here to see you," stated Julie quietly. "Why didn't you tell me that we were having company?"

Gil blinked twice, not quite understanding the statement. "I didn't invite anyone over, my dear..."

"But I did say I would see you later," stated the tallest of the group. He did indeed seem familiar, but Gil still could not place him.

"Why do you think I asked for your address?" said a voice behind Julie. As Julie stepped aside, the young woman from the transport stepped out from behind her.

"Did I answer the survey incorrectly?" asked Gil.

"You are the young lady from the transport?" stated Julie.

The young woman smiled happily, "He was right, you know, he said you were beautiful. Did he tell you that we spoke?"

Julie returned the smile, "He told me. You scared him a bit, I thought you had asked him questions as part of a survey..."

"Don't you hate those?" the young woman interrupted. "You can't get on a transport now a days without someone asking you a million questions..."

"I can't stand it," agreed Julie firmly, "you can't go one stop without someone wanting you to answer something." Smiling, she asked gently, "But if that isn't what you wanted, why did you ask him all those questions?"

The girl brightened, "My father didn't know where the meeting was to take place. Didn't you know about the meeting?"

Laughing, Julie eyed her husband before responding, "I suspect Gil didn't know about the meeting, but please come in, all of you."

"We had agreed to meet, but hadn't set a place," stated the tallest of the men. "I did not want to contact your husband directly in case what we were discussing was inappropriate."

Raising her hand, Julie replied, "Gil? Inappropriate? Are you sure you have the right person?"

"You're the garbage ship captain," stated Gil suddenly, "I fired you this afternoon!"

"Correct," the captain granted, "and this is my crew." He gestured for the four men in the doorway to enter. Each man wore the same outfit, a dark tee shirt beneath a pair of blue overalls and a pair of work boots, but they were so dissimilar from one another that somehow wearing the same uniform only accentuated how different they all looked. The captain began to introduce each one proudly to Gil and Julie.

"This is Don..." Don stood, short, squat and heavyset, his long dark hair greased back, dark eyes partially shielded by the brim of a baseball cap. His jowly face gave the impression of patient understanding, the sort of expression a hound dog gets when its owner had misplaced the can opener at feeding time.

"and this is Chester..." Chester was almost perfectly round and sported short blonde hair and a far off look in his eyes. He smiled weakly as if unsure of where he was and after a quiet hello, stared out into the middle of the room apparently seeing something no one else could.

"this is Mad Matt..." Mad Matt was well built, with uncombed blonde hair and an intense expression on his face. Like the captain, Mad Matt had an insane look in his eye, but where as the captain's insanity seemed of the type that tends to leap into pools fully clothed, Mad Matt's insanity seemed more of the let's-dispose-of-the-body-before-the-police-arrive variety. Gil realized that it would be best if he spent a good part of the evening making sure that Julie was no where near Mad Matt.

"this is Panther..." Panther was a well built, handsome black man, taller then the others and more outgoing. He greeted Gil and Julie warmly and even complimented them on their apartment before moving smoothly into the living room.

'and you've met my daughter, Nicole, Nicky for short." Nicole was extremely attractive, dressed in a plain blouse and jeans. Her shoulder length brown hair was in tied up in a pony tail and she shook hands warmly with both Gil and Julie. She wore the expression of a mother who has an awkward child, proud with a touch of anxiety.

"This is my wife, Julie," stated Gil, presenting her to the group, "but I must state that I don't recall agreeing to a meeting..."

"Certainly you did," the captain interrupted, beaming, "right after you gave me the brochures on the proper way to starve."

"Starve?" yelped Julie. "You give out brochures on how to starve?"

Gil shrunk slightly, "It is part of the paperwork we are required to give..."

"Well, there will be no starvation tonight." Julie's statement left no room for questions. Addressing herself to the captain, she continued, "Have you eaten?"

"We did not ma'am," stated the captain somberly, "we wanted to be on time, you see and we have to travel from the other side of the city..."

"Well you arrived on time. The rest of you, have a seat. Nicole would you be nice enough to give me a hand in the kitchen please?"

Nicole replied with a dazzling smile, "Certainly."

Julie began to exit with the younger woman in tow. "Darling," interrupted Gil, a feeling of abandonment rising in him, "what should I..."

"Begin your meeting, we'll be back shortly," Julie instructed, shooing him back into the living room.

Gil turned to see the five men smiling brightly back at him. Gingerly making his way to his chair, he gestured timidly to them to be seated on the couch that stood between his chair and Julie's. The captain took the seat Julie usually occupied opposite him, while the rest of the men piled awkwardly onto the couch.

"I'm afraid," began Gil formally, "I have forgotten what it was our meeting was supposed to be about." Gil could see that his confession dampened his companion's moods not one bit.

"Our futures, of course," replied the captain.

Gil took a moment to truly study the man's features for the first time. His bright blue eyes and wild sandy hair gave the captain an energetic, manic air, while with his deep tan and light mustache and goatee, he somehow conveyed an air authority. He wore a jumpsuit of pale blue that fit his lanky frame snuggly.

Glancing at the rest of the group, Gil digested them again in one fell swoop. With the exception of Mad Matt, they all seemed harmless and hopeful. He could tell that they had taken care with their appearance, Chester having gone so far as to attach a fake carnation to his overalls. Each one seemed to be eyeing him expectantly, which made Gil even more uneasy.

"Your futures, ah, yes," Gil shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He had no idea what their futures might be and he felt the strain of it on his faulty tubing. Did something just pop? Oh God, was he bleeding internally now? How did this happen, what mistake had he made? You must be mad, Gil, he told himself, you must be mad.

"I knew you were making those horrible suggestions on purpose in order to gain my confidence," began the captain, totally unaware of Gil's growing unease or the general insanity of his statement. "I told the crew that I had met a man with a bright idea and that he would let us know his true thoughts tonight!"

"The bright idea...?" Gil repeated uneasily.

"The idea that lets us keep eating," barked Mad Matt.

"Easy, Mad Matt," the captain laughed. With a conspiratorial wink he leaned towards Gil, "Lately all he thinks about is food. Of course, that might not be so bad, since if he's thinking about food, he thinks less about killing people. It's a bad habit, not that he would do anything, mind you, it's just the way his brain works."

"It's better than thinking about starving," stated a quiet voice. Gil believed it belonged to the black man at the end of the couch. (Not BLACK, Gil scolded himself, the person of equal worth with dark pigmentation.)

"True, Panther, true," responded the captain. "So, what have you got then? What is the bright idea?"

Gil had no idea, none. He possessed no bright idea, no glowing thought, not a cinder of suggestion, not a dull reflection of inkling, he was as blank as blank could be and after what seemed an hour or more of awkward silence, he felt that he must confess the truth. It was in that decisive moment that Julie and Nicole burst into the room, giggling happily with one another and announcing in unison,

"SANDWICHES!"

The effect of the announcement was immediate and explosive. The women's sudden cry had sent Gil, intent on confession, reeling back into his chair, while the five men rose in unison, completely disinterested in anything but the trays laden with food.

Furniture, distance, nuclear explosions, natural barriers, nothing man made or God given would have survived the onslaught of that group as it moved forward, relentlessly, singularly, towards those sandwiches. If it had not been for Julie's quick reflexes in setting the trays down on the table and sweeping Nicole out of harms way, the young lady would have been lost to our narrative, a victim of circumstance, a sandwich holder lost in a stampede of sandwich eaters.

Julie, taking a moment to comprehend the full extent of the situation, was suddenly reminded of a moment from her childhood. A Girl Scout councilor that she had not thought of in years suddenly appeared before her eyes, reading a ghost story to her and her friends near a cozy camp fire in the woods. The words of the story leapt into mind, "There are words that man must not speak, that NONE should ever say!" In her entire life, a lifetime of experience and belief, she would have never thought that "sandwiches" would be that mystical word.

Slowly gliding towards Gil's still huddled form, she leaned over to ask him a question, never taking her eyes off of the spectacle. "Besides sandwiches, what do they want?"

"They think I have an idea for a job for them," whispered Gil. "I don't, I have no idea!"

Suddenly, the carnage abated. One sandwich remained and like a lion protecting its kill, the captain held it aloft and sneered at his compatriots. Maintaining a sharp vigil, he brought the sandwich forward and lovingly handed it to Nicole. Nicole smiled; obviously much affected by his paternal concern and taking the sandwich, gently rewarded him with a kiss on the cheek. The other men seemed to fall back slightly, ashamed that they might have taken the girls meal without so much as a thought. Her gentle smile radiated forgiveness as she daintily ate the remaining sandwich, her obvious enjoyment of it helping to form a happy reconciliation.

"How long has it been since you have eaten?" Julie's asked in an amazed stammer.

"Food, you mean?"

Don's question perplexed her for a moment.

"Yes, food..."

"About three days," mused the captain, looking to the others for confirmation.

"Three days?" Gil repeated. "But I only fired you this afternoon."

"But we haven't been paid in a month,'" replied the captain gently. "They usually drop little hints before you get fired. Not getting paid is one."

"Ransacking your home is another," stated Nicole between bites.

"Removing your furniture is another," chimed in one of the other men. Gil had no idea who he was, did the captain call him Chester? What sort of name was Chester? Or Panther? Or Mad Matt for that matter?

"They take your food while you are at work," explained Panther, "they don't want to waste food on non-productive people."

"But you were still working..." began Gil.

"Nicole, could you help me in the kitchen?" asked Julie. The girl nodded happily. Turning to Gil she smiled pleasantly, "Think of something and make it as bright an idea as you have ever had."

As the men retook their seats, Gil unfolded in his chair, too shocked to think. He had no bright ideas and he was sure that the sudden chaos of his life would lead to a failure in the aardvark tubing. So young, so young...

"It's time for that idea." The captain's reasonable smile helped not a bit.

A thought flickered in Gil's mind amongst the ashes; a dull but definite flame suddenly appeared. "I want to see your ship," Gil stammered. "How can I have a useful idea if I have no idea of what we are working with?"

The other men in the room leaned away, consulting each other with primordial grunts.

"So you have no idea?" asked Don.

"I have several ideas," Gil stated somewhat haughtily, trying desperately to suppress a hysterical giggle, "but I have no knowledge to base my ideas on. You need facts to create a workable fiction, don't you agree?"

"A fiction?" the captain questioned.

"Well every idea is a fiction until it is put into practical terms and usage and it becomes a fact." Gil spoke rapidly, his mind a whirl. The tubing, the poor tubing, you must be mad Gil, you must be mad, "I mean, for instance, before you can actually eat a sandwich, you must think, "I want to eat a sandwich" and then you take the steps to get to the point where you are actually eating the sandwich."

"You want us to make sandwiches?" asked Panther.

"We have no credentials for making sandwiches," stated the captain.

"I don't think he wants us to make sandwiches," ventured Don, "I think he is using sandwiches as an example."

"So these are fictional sandwiches," squinted the captain.

Don looked confused, the scope of the question beyond him.

"The sandwiches do not really matter," stated Gil, "the point is that before there are sandwiches to eat, you must want the sandwich first and then go and get the sandwich."

The others accepted this with a muted "oh."

"If I see your ship, I will know what your capabilities are," Gil intoned, unsure if he was out of the woods yet. "You can show me the ship and I can suggest a course of action to you." He could see them grasping the concept slowly, but steadily.

After a time, the captain nodded, "Very well. You will have to see the Aurora."

"Yes, of course," Gil chuckled, teetering on the verge of giddy, "perhaps next week..."

The captain waved him off, "Tomorrow morning would be best."

A shudder ran through Gil's tubing, "But I couldn't possibly..."

"We will meet early; there is a lot to see."

"Good idea, captain," chimed in the group.

The door to the kitchen swung open as Nicole appeared with cups and plates, "Julie said for you all to sit down and she will bring out dessert."

The announcement effectively ended further discussion.

***

Don clutched the package in his lap so menacingly that Nicole was reminded of the rumors that he was the offspring of a church going mother and a grizzly bear father.

"Miss Julie is a substantial woman," stated the captain as he stroked his beard thoughtfully. "She would keep a man warm on a chilly night." His observation was meant and taken as a genuine compliment by the others.

"Give me a woman of substance," stated Panther sagely, "hearts of gold, every one of them."

"I think she's beautiful," smiled Nicole, "and he clearly adores her."

"Well he should," intoned her father, "well he should. Look at the food she packed up for us, perfect strangers!"

"I think he might have spoken to his wife about you, Captain," reasoned Chester, uttering a few of the few words he was likely to utter. "He definitely mentioned Nicky."

"Clever, pretending you were taking a survey," smiled the Captain. "I meant to say it earlier. You aroused no suspicion, well done!"

Nicole smiled; she had made no attempt at disguise but her father loved intrigue, so why disappoint him. The sanitation business offered few real opportunities for intrigue, a fact that was not lost on the captain's only child.

Looking over her father and his crew, she realized that they were pathologically hopeful. Not a man amongst them would ever imagine that tomorrow might not be their big day. No, hope positively drenched them. Despite limited education, even more limited social skills and a true, unerring knack for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, she had no doubt that each of these men considered himself extremely fortunate, a success in the making, a future BIG man.

Leaning against her father, she closed her eyes. Why not hope? Why not even believe? With a full stomach, anything was possible.

Chapter 2

Gil sat up in bed feeling despondent, utterly and completely lost. "I only meant to stall," he said to no one in particular, "I will have nothing more of a bright idea tomorrow than I have now!"

Julie entered the room rubbing lotion on her elbows, "Your heart is fine, Gil," she stated absently. Her thoughts returning to the present, she brightened and gave him a smile, "Now, what are you going to suggest to those nice people tomorrow?"

"Suggest? What can I suggest? I don't find people jobs, my dear, I fire them!"

Julie was genuinely surprised, "Gil, if you had no suggestion to make, then why lead these poor people on?"

Gil started violently, "I did not lead them on. That crazy captain took a perfectly innocent statement..."

Julie waved him off impatiently, "Gil, you said you would offer them an idea tomorrow."

"Darling, I have no idea! I was merely stalling. What do I know about space vehicles or interplanetary travel?"

His desperate tone touched her deeply. "We have traveled, Gil, remember the cruise to Mars?"

The memory did little to improve his mood.

"Of course I do, but that does not qualify me to give advice on..." he paused, struck by a thought. Julie could see he had an idea; it was there behind the twinkling of his eyes.

"Cruise ships, of course! Cruise ships create enormous amounts of garbage," he began. "If the garbage storage areas on the ship could be reduced, they could hold more people..."

"And the cruise lines would make more money," Julie whispered. "Of course, it makes perfect sense!"

"If they had a garbage ship to pick up the garbage at given locations in space before they docked, they could reduce their waste storage areas." Gil broke into a grin, "It could work, and it could create a whole new industry."

Julie sat next to him and threw her arms around his neck, "I knew you would come up with something wonderful. I'm so proud of you!"

Hugging her tightly, Gil reveled in the moment. He was never happier than when he held Julie tightly. "You aren't always mad, Gil," he chuckled to himself as he nuzzled close to Julie, "If Julie thinks it is a good idea, you can't possibly be mad!"

***

He had never been to this side of town before. He had never seen nor heard of this area, but he was sure that if he had, he would never have done two things; first, he would never have brought Julie with him and second, he would never have come himself.

It seemed as they walked from block to block, that the sun was slipping further away from the earth. Each block displayed an uglier array of buildings then the last until here, on the final block; the buildings were so disheveled and lopsided that they resembled giants frozen in their reaction to some intestinal disorder. Bent over, crippled by pain, they seemed to block out the sky and befoul the street beneath their windows.

Garbage floated from side to side across the avenue, wrappers and papers taking flight like a catatonic flock of pigeons, rising, circling, lingering, falling.

Grim faced children watched by grim faced mothers sat on the steps of the buildings like mud clinging to the top of a shoe.

Julie seemed disinterested in the surroundings, solely focused on finding the building number the captain had supplied. The block notified them that it was a dead end, a stick holding a sign to that effect standing just to the left and in front of the biggest, nastiest pile of rubble that Gil had ever laid eyes on. If a person had entered that building and not been done away with in some horribly gruesome manner by some deranged killer, he would have been surprised.

"This is it," announced Julie, whispering as if afraid that the building would become violent if it knew its secret was out.

"It can't be," replied Gil softly, "there is no way..."

The door of the building slapped open and out stepped Nicole. "You came!" she shrieked excitedly, grabbing Julie and hugging her tightly. "I was worried you wouldn't, but you both came!"

"Of course we did," laughed Julie, "and Gil has a great idea."

Gil brightened, "The more I think of it, the better I like it myself..."

Grabbing his hand, Nicole ushered them inside, "You have to tell them all about it," she laughed. "They are all dying of anticipation. They kept sending me out to look for you."

Inside the door was a cramped labyrinth of musty offices and cluttered hallways, completely void of occupation. Nicole followed their gaze along the musty piles and darkened rooms, "We use these offices primarily for storage. My father and the crew are in the hangar, trying to tidy up. Please don't expect too much, they have good intentions, but being tidy is especially difficult in the garbage business."

Making their way down the musty corridors they came upon a door, slightly ajar, with light and some faint voice noises creeping around its edge. Nicole pushed her way inwards and the light grew brighter, the voices more urgent.

"Are they here?" shouted the captain's voice.

"Yes Dad and Gil says he likes his idea even more now than before!"

Gil could not fathom the size of the building they were in, but it was without question, the largest building he had ever seen. The hangar seemed to stretch out into infinity, the men rushing towards them dwarfed by the enormous structure that stood behind them. It was black, completely, totally black, a huge black tube almost as infinite as the hangar itself. In the center of the end of the tube there was the slightest of indentations. It must be the garbage ship, Aurora, he reasoned, an example of massive engineering all wrapped up in a black tube. Peering into the indentations, Gil could see the slightest of reflections. Was it some sort of glass, perhaps, or some moisture on the hull? He could not be sure, not from this distance.

The men did not seem to be calling out in an especially strong way even though they appeared quite tiny in the distance.

"I told you all we needed was a good idea..."

"What is the idea, Gil?"

"Don't say a word yet, Gil, wait until we're closer!"

"What does it matter?"

"What if he has some pictures?"

"Or maybe a presentation of some sort..."

"Do you think they brought sandwiches?"

The question hung in the air and suddenly the men grew bigger much more rapidly. Julie glanced at Gil and patted the knapsack he had on his back. There was enough food for a day or two; she just hoped they would let Gil remove the backpack before attacking it.

"If only we could fix the food processor," Nicole stated wistfully.

"You have a food processor?" asked Julie.

Nicole shrugged, "On board ship. Panther tried to fix it, but it needs a new compression unit. No one has the money for it; we've over extended our credit..."

"How much does the unit cost?" Gil asked as he removed the knapsack.

"The unit is seventy five gold," replied Nicole. "It might as well be a million at this point."

"Could Panther install it?" asked Julie.

"Panther, dear lady, could fix a super nova if you gave him the right parts," laughed the captain, drawing closer, his men falling in behind him. "Problem is we're out of parts, we're out of everything."

Raising an eyebrow at Gil for confirmation, Julie accepted his nod and continued. "We will buy the compression unit. How long would it take you to install?"

The men's eyes grew large at the prospect.

"We couldn't accept it ma'am," interrupted the captain. "It wouldn't be right. We may be too poor to eat, but we aren't too poor to starve!"

"We can't let you starve," replied Julie, "besides; you will need your strength for Gil's plan." Julie's reasoning gave the men hope, but they knew the captain. Each turned his eyes to Nicole.

"We could pay them back for the compression unit after we get re-established," offered Nicole. "I'm sure Gil's plan will work, Dad."

Her suggestion caused a furrowing of his brow. "What if the idea doesn't work? Then we'd starve and be even more in debt than we are!"

"It will work, at least I believe it should," stated Gil hurriedly. "But Julie is quite right, as always. If you starve to death, you won't have a chance to carry out the idea."

"First off, what is the idea?" asked Mad Matt anxiously, "Secondly, did you bring more sandwiches?"

"You can answer the second question first if you like," offered Don, "all the talk of starvation has made me hungry."

"Answer the first question first," instructed Julie. The crew groaned slightly, but listened as Gil outlined his plan.

"Each cruise ship produces enormous amount of garbage, which they carry from place to place," murmured Mad Matt when Gil was finished. "So if we can get them to give us the garbage in mid-flight, they won't need as much room for garbage and the ships can hold more people... So the new people they get, they will live in the garbage hold?"

"No, no," Gil replied, "the cruise line will make the garbage area smaller and build more luxury cabins."

"And more cabins means more money for them," stated Nicole. "Brilliant!" she jumped up and hugged Julie and Gil in turn. "Dad, it's a brilliant idea, it's a whole new industry and you will be in on the ground floor!"

The captain squinted, unsure of it, "Who will talk to them?"

"To who?" asked Nicole.

"To the cruise line people? I mean, who will talk to them? Personally, I like the idea, but boardroom politics is not my specialty. I suspect a certain tact and charm would be needed to win over those over stuffed, greedy pigs to the idea and I would rather shoot those corporate jackals than give them a moment's happiness."

Julie and Gil exchanged perplexed glances.

"Mama worked in a corporate office, she was a secretary," whispered Nicole. Mournful looks over came the crew as they shrunk back in unison. "They were not very nice to her and when she died..." Nicole stopped, too overcome to continue.

"It's a fine idea," stated the captain, "but I'm not the man to speak to them."

With a maternal arm over Nicky's shoulder, Julie countered the gloom. "Gil will do it."

Eyes growing large, Gil resembled a startled owl, "Me?"

"It is your idea, who better to explain it?"

Gil was appalled. "I wouldn't know what to say, I mean, I fire people for a living, I have no training in corporate presentations. I'd have to make charts and diagrams; there would be figures and projections..."

"But you do own a suit!" The captain's assertion momentarily threw him.

"With a suit, you are half way there," Julie nodded.

"They aren't going to care if I'm wearing a suit," Gil countered, sure that the anxiety of the situation would strain his faulty tubing beyond its endurance. "They will want charts and graphs! They'll want color slides and discs! Oh the discs they'll want, where will I get discs?"

"I have some discs," offered Don.

"I don't think they'll want to see naked lady picture discs," stated the captain reasonably.

"I don't know about that captain," countered Mad Matt thoughtfully. "He said he needed discs and if that is what they want..."

"Do you think they will want to keep the naked lady picture discs?" asked Don, suddenly serious. "I mean, I don't mind lending them to you, but I don't think it is fair if they keep them..."

"I don't want to show them naked lady picture discs!" Gil's flustered reply gave them pause. "They will want discs containing statistics and facts."

The men huddled together momentarily and conferred amongst themselves. As they returned, Mad Matt appeared to speak for the group consensus, "We don't know much about the corporate world, but if you go into a meeting with a group of men, it is our opinion that you would be better off with a naked lady picture disc than one with statistics on it. I mean, which would you rather look at?"

"I am a married man, I have no interest in naked lady picture discs," replied Gil stiffly.

"What if they aren't married?" Don's question stumped him.

"It does not matter if they're married or not," stated the captain with a thoughtful air, "when I was new in the business, I learned a great deal from a man named Ernie Johnson. Amongst us, he was considered a philosopher of sorts. One day, he said to me, "Captain..."

"If you were just getting started, why did he call you "Captain"?" Mad Matt questioned.

"He knew quality when he saw it," murmured the captain. "Anyway, he says, "Captain" he says, "if a man isn't comfortable with his job, he will never reach his potential." We should not force Gil to do the logical thing and share the naked lady picture discs with these executives if he is not comfortable doing it."

"If he is not comfortable showing the naked lady pictures, is he going to be effective as a spokesman?" asked Panther.

"No," Gil stated flatly, "I think we need someone else to make the presentation."

"There is no one else," Julie interrupted, "No one here fully understands your idea as well as you do, you have to make the presentation."

"They aren't up to it," agreed Nicole, patting her father affectionately on the shoulder. "Without you, we will starve for sure."

"Once you get the new processor..." began Gil.

"We cannot accept it," huffed the captain. "Free load a meal, yes, but a whole compressor, never!"

"Be reasonable," begged Julie, "think of Nicole..."

"I am," replied the captain, "it is a lesson in character!"

"What if they were partners?" asked Mad Matt suddenly.

"Of course, if you let them be partners, he could buy the compressor and we could eat!" Panther placed a beefy arm around Gil, "He could be a silent partner and once we got things going again, you could buy him out!"

"That's a fine idea," Julie concurred.

Taking her by the arm, Gil excused them and led her a distance away. "Are you mad? I know nothing about the waste disposal business!"

"We can't let them starve, think of Nicole! It is not her fault that her father has a few screws missing!"

"Nonsense! She'll build character! Besides, I have no idea how to present this idea." His hand fluttered to his chest, checking for a beat, "It may be the stupidest idea in the world!"

"A moment ago, you thought it was a great idea." Julie gave him sad eyes, "Now I can understand you being nervous, but we are in this far and we can not let them starve."

"Fine," Gil huffed, sure the added stress on his tubing would produce an audible pop at any moment. "How do we proceed?"

"I think I have a plan." Julie's words instantly eased the strain on Gil's tubing. "First, we do not want a written agreement of any sort, tell him your handshake is your bond and become his partner, the more vague the partnership the better. Next, send someone for the compressor, perhaps that nice Mister Panther since he seems to know about parts. Next, I can contact the nearest cruise line and try to arrange a meeting with the appropriate person. In the meantime, you work on putting together the best, shortest presentation you can!"

The smile Gil wore did not fully reveal the awe he felt in the prescience of his remarkable wife. Saddled with the stress of daily living, a husband whose health was questionable and financial limitations brought on by his middle management position, she still managed to reach out and positively affect everything around her. She was the bright beacon of his life and if he were poetic, which he definitely was not, he would have unleashed a torrent of brilliant and beautifully phrased appreciation in her general direction. "Thank you, love," was all he could manage, but he knew she knew, his whole heart was in every word.

***

It had been a week quite unlike any other week in Gil's life. Each night he had raced to meet Julie after work at the rubble of the ship yard, sharing dinner with the crew, learning about the garbage disposal business, working tirelessly on the presentation and then, exhausted, going home to collapse into bed and get up the next day to do it all over again. Somehow, despite the increased work load, despite the endless hours, the new terminology, the illogical logic of the crew, the insane logic of the captain and the endless discussion of the naked lady discs, Gil felt alive. He thought less of his heart and tubing problems, less of television preferences, less of the haunting suspicion that regardless of the can's assertions there was, in actuality, an enormous prejudice towards carrots in a can of peas and carrots. Previously he could go on for hours on the subject, you need only look at the green to orange ratio to deduce that carrots dominated the whole peas and carrots world, but somehow, it no longer mattered.

Life had come alive! He no longer pondered alternative uses for household pets (a team of guinea pigs pulling a vacuum had been an idea) and he no longer day dreamed of how to make popcorn an efficient weapon. Gil Johnson had become focused! His life, to his enormous surprise, had a point and he was pursuing it with a growing excitement that bordered on giddiness.

Sitting in bed, Gil's mind was distracted by Julie's entrance into their bedroom. His wife vigorously rubbed lotion on her elbows, her brow wrinkled in thought.

"What do you think about giving them a gift?"

Gil's expression conveyed his confusion long before his words confirmed it. "Who? The crew?"

"No, no," Julie smiled, "the people from the cruise line. You know how visiting dignitaries always bring other visiting dignitaries gifts, a picture featuring some native art or a bust of some dead composer? Perhaps you should bring a small gift as a gesture."

"Perhaps some garbage, tastefully wrapped," Gil suggested with the slightest grin.

Julie's robust laughter surprised him. Sliding into bed she smiled at him happily. "Gil, that is the second joke you have told this week! I'm married to a comedian! I'm so happy to see you making jokes; this whole thing has been a marvelous experience for us."

"I am still in shock that my boss gave me the week off." Gil slid closer to her. "I told him I needed to help out some friends and he did not even question it. Well, I hope I do not sound as if I am putting myself forward, but I honestly believe that the presentation I have come up with just might work."

"And with no "naked lady pictures"," giggled Julie. "I am proud of you, Gil, I hope you know that. I am extremely proud of you. I have become quite attached to the captain and the crew, they may lack some common sense, but they are all good men."

"I know you've grown rather fond of Nicole as well," Gil's statement drew a smile from his wife.

"She's like a daughter to me. She is so full of life and nothing seems to get her down..." her voice faded. With a quick kiss, she regarded Gil. "Tomorrow is the big day, my dear. Get some rest for our big adventure!"

Gil kissed her again and after shutting the light, snuggled closely to her. "Adventure, indeed. I have never traveled by garbage ship before."

"Only first class for us," she murmured with a laugh.

Chapter 3

Nicole sat with her legs drawn up beneath her, carefully avoiding the console before her. She watched with obvious pride as her father maneuvered the enormous craft through space. She took special delight in the expressions on Julie's face, the obvious joy and wonder she felt as they slid through space.

"It is beautiful, isn't it," Nicole whispered, patting the seat next to her.

Julie hesitated before lowering herself gingerly down into the seat, finding it surprisingly comfortable.

"It is beautiful," she whispered back. "I can see why you miss it so when you are on the ground."

"The vastness of space," drawled the captain philosophically, "it is a great abundance of huge. Yet even in that, it still seems ridiculously large..."

"How long will it be before we rendezvous with the cruise ship, Dad?"

The captain pressed some buttons, checking a chart that materialized over his console. "If all goes according to plan, we should run into them in about three hours time."

The elevator to the bridge gave a sudden bang like a hammer dropped on a metal garbage pail lid and its doors slid open wildly, belching Gil out into the room.

"Good Lord!" He shuddered, landing awkwardly in their midst. "You should check on that thing, it is dangerous. It accelerates and then decelerates without warning. I believe it is possessed!"

"It is," smiled Nicole sweetly. "It is our old dog, Pringles."

"Pringles?" asked Julie. "Why does she possess the elevator?"

"Pringles was a boy," interrupted the captain. "Hated me, but loved Nicky. He was our watch dog, but whenever we would leave dock, he'd whine and cry and be miserable until we came back. One day, we were landing and the dog got loose. In its excitement, it ran under the ship..."

"We landed on him," stated Nicole mournfully. Shaking her head, she looked sadly at her father, "Dad offered to buy me another, but I just couldn't..."

"Ever since that day, the elevators have been trying to kill someone," stated the captain. "I have tried to explain it to him, "Pringles", I say, "I didn't mean to land on you. It is your own fault, you know, but I am sorry," but he just won't listen. He is as miserable dead as he was alive."

Julie glanced at Gil, "Are you ready for your presentation? We will be rendezvousing in about three hours."

"I am ready," he stated. "I must admit, I am nervous..."

"Do not be nervous," cautioned the captain, "dogs smell fear!"

"Not Pringles, Dad," explained Nicole patiently, "the cruise line executives. He is nervous about meeting with them and making our proposal."

"Nonsense," scoffed the captain, "it's a brilliant idea, Gil, brilliant! The sheer genius of the thing stuns a lesser mind into an awed coma! If they cannot see the subtle magnificence of the idea, they are dumber than Nicky's dog, the one who decided that a good place to park this ship would be on his head."

"Thank you for your confidence, captain," Gil replied with a somewhat embarrassed air. "It means a great deal to me."

Julie rose, hooked arms with Gil and led him gently around the deck. "Do not let the captain distract you, my dear. You will be just fine, just you wait and see."

Gil smiled but a ping in the pit of his stomach disagreed. For once, even Julie's confidence seemed unable to remove the uneasiness that was in Gil's soul. He just knew something was not right.

***

Most men are but shadows, in their time roaming with no more effect than shadows and in the end, are absorbed by their encounter with the one true light. There are some men who are mirrors, reflections of that all powerful light and then there are some who catch fire and are part of the light. Finally, there are some, a very few, who are accidentally ignited and who, while trying to find a way to douse themselves, reek a great deal of trouble upon the many shadows of the world who would prefer to be just left alone.

"The Constellation!" The "Constellation" was a word and a place, a myth and a dream, a feared whisper and a sinking feeling. The "Constellation" sent tremors through the fiber of men's beings; its mere mention set women to seek safety and protect their children. The "Constellation's" legend was fear; its truth was loathing, and its water pumps, broken.

"Any idea when it will be fixed?" called out the unfortunately named first mate, Skippy Tardy, to the ship's chief engineer.

From the black hole of the engine room a voice lost in belch answered back angrily, "It's lunch time, I get an hour, ask me later!"

Tardy replied with a disdainful glance and proceeded to the bridge. Lights flickered in the main passages as the ship listed slightly to starboard. The bridge was a sea of activity, the waves of which all broke upon the man who sat at the center of the room, Captain Galbard!

Galbard was handsome, intelligent and genuinely likeable, a force of nature in motion, a Michelangelo statue in repose. Galbard was a magnificent captain except for two minor flaws. First, he was simply too nice to people he knew and liked and unfortunately, he knew and liked just about everyone. Secondly, he needed a crisis to shine in, in the moment of disaster, Galbard's thinking took on a sixth sense. When things were calm, however, not only his sixth sense, but his other five, seemed to abandon him.

Tardy waded through the crowd and got his bosses attention. "Our less than helpful engineer doesn't know what is wrong with the engines, so he is taking a lunch break."

"I could do with some lunch myself," Galbard responded reasonably, "but I don't think it is a good idea. I mean, doesn't he realize we are stuck almost motionless in the middle of space?"

"You would think that the chief engineer might find that of interest, but it does not seem to have made a dent with him." Tardy drew closer, "Most captains would find the situation intolerable. Being the pirate captain of a ship filled with stolen goods should really cause you to be concerned."

Galbard looked at him, eyebrows knit in thought. "How far are we from our repair station at Zooks?"

"Normally, three hours," replied Tardy. "At our present rate of speed, six days."

"Six days!" Galbard jumped forward, his reaction to the news freezing activity on the bridge. "Take me to him immediately! Lunch? Nonsense! We have a crisis!"

Storming off before Tardy could react, Galbard sped out the door and into the corridor leading to the engine room.

Yeoman Tia Xiang approached Tardy, stunning in a microscopic outfit designed not to hinder movement or sexual vibrations. "You've spurred the tiger to action," she stated in a tone sultry enough to melt stone.

"He has a tanning appointment in two days," Tardy replied. "He loves lying naked under the strong rays of the "Insta-Buffo" booth."

Tia sighed, "Who doesn't?"

***

"I believe I have chic peas in my shorts," offered Gil sheepishly.

Julie glanced down at the proffered view and sighed, "How did you manage that?"

"When I slipped, my salad tray seems to have penetrated the area where my pants split."

A knock on the cabin door was a welcomed intrusion.

"Come in please," called out Julie.

The captain flowed into the room, appraising them both with a practiced eye. "Is he alright?"

"Fine," replied Julie, her reassuring voice giving the captain cause to smile. "He slipped in the galley as we were getting lunch, but he is fine now."

"No problem with making the presentation then," the captain asked, peeking at Gil.

"Other than his pants, no damage done."

Gil, of course, smiled reassuringly, but held some doubts as to Julie's prognosis. He was sure he had heard a snap just prior to his fall and though he felt no pain, he was not convinced that his hip had not broken, causing the fall in the first place. He was partially convinced that he was not feeling pain because he was in shock.

Actually, the more he thought about it, he was not entirely sure that he was conscious, he might have passed out from the pain and was, in fact, dreaming this entire scene. Why would he dream of chic peas, he wondered? Perhaps he had eaten some earlier in the week and he was revisiting the meal via the dream state. But why split pants? Freud might suggest a repressed sexual urge...

"Gil, go change your pants," Julie sighed. "You have to look your best."

"We are all counting on you," stated the captain, "If you convince them..."

A voice overhead interrupted him. It was Panther, calling out on the ship's intercom system, "Captain to the bridge, Captain to the bridge, a four sixteen, Captain to the bridge." Yellow lights began flashing in an unenthused manner.

"What is the matter?" Julie asked a slight discomfort in her voice.

"What is a four sixteen?" Gill sounded nervous. Perhaps the number had some significance to his dream mind...

"A four sixteen is a ship in trouble," replied the captain happily. "Now, a four seventeen, that is a ship in dire need and a four eighteen is a ship with a bad odor, what we call in the trade, a smelly ship. Now your smelly ship might not be smelly for a dangerous reason, it might just smell because of an unhygienic crew, but..."

"Shouldn't you be going to the bridge?" suggested Julie tactfully.

The captain stared at her a moment, considering the idea. "Yes, yes, I suppose I should. Very well then, get changed, Gil, we'll be at the rendezvous before you know it!" The captain disappeared out the door and down the corridor.

Gil wandered into the bedroom and unpacked the overnight bag he had brought and retrieved a new pair of pants. "Do you think we will be able to get these pants repaired?"

The final word of the question was lost in an unholy howl, a loud, throaty noise that caused Julie to spring into his arms like a frightened deer. The noise continued rhythmically, each crescendo only slightly less jarring than its predecessor.

Voices and a commotion were heard in the corridor outside. Gil disentangled himself from Julie. Dropping his pants, he attempted to dislodge his old trousers in an effort to make a quick change in case they had to abandon ship.

Julie was just helping him into his new pants when the door to their cabin flew open and Nicole stepping in, breathing heavily.

"There's no time for that now," she cried, misreading the situation, "we are about to attack a pirate ship!"

"A pirate ship?" Julie yelped.

"No time for what?' asked Gil, unsure of Nicole's meaning.

"Why would a garbage vessel attack a pirate ship?" continued Julie.

"For the reward, of course!" Nicole's voice betrayed her fear. "Please come upstairs and talk to Dad, I'm afraid."

"Come on, Gil," Julies' words were tossed over her shoulder as she placed a protective arm around Nicole and the two started for the door.

"Yes, of course." Slipping his shoes on as he went, Gil called out, "But, what did you mean "No time for that now"? No time for what?"

***

The Captain stared out into the blankness of space, his entire attention focused upon the growing figure in the absolute center of his screen.

"It's no doubt," his voice directed to no one in particular, "it is the "Constellation"."

A murmur ran through those assembled.

"I'm glad I upped the output on those mazars." Panther's smile lit up the room, "We'll be able to disable them if we get close enough. I made them four times regulation strength!"

"I don't think we'll have to use them," stated Don softly in the semi-darkness of the bridge. "Scanners show that their main engines are off line."

"We can take them without a firing a shot," said Captain Stanwich, surprised by the truth of his own statement. "All we need do is open the smaller cargo bay, scoop them up and hold them inside, their guns can't even scratch our hull and we can lock down the hold, they'll never get out no matter how many of them there are!"

"Once we close the hull lock, we can gravitiationalize the bay. The sudden shift in atmospheric conditions should cause their landing gear to fail." Panther's face lost its excited glow as his companions looked at him for clarification. "We put the air on in the small garbage bay and their ship goes boom!"

A murmur of general happiness greeted the explanation. The bridge door slipped open and in stepped Gil, Julie and Nicky.

"What is going on?" asked Nicole anxiously.

"We have a plan," her father replied. "We'll put them in Hold One, pressurize it and keep them under lock and key until we return home where we'll get our reward!"

"What were you inferring in the room before?" asked Gil to Nicole.

"How are your pants, Gil?" asked Don.

"These are new ones," stated Gil. "I was changing them from the old ones I ripped," he explained, eyeing Nicole suspiciously, "when we were told that we were attacking a pirate vessel."

"We're not really attacking them," Don countered happily, "we're just capturing them."

"There's a two million gold reward posted for the "Constellation"," laughed the captain, "plus the publicity! Think of it, we could go down in history! We could meet the morning news weather girl!"

"We could meet the women who make naked lady pictures!" stated Mad Matt excitedly.

"We could get killed!" Julie's remark took a moment to penetrate the thought process of the others, but after waiting patiently, she persisted. "You are talking about professional killers; we are a garbage ship crew, a redundancy expert, and a housewife."

"We won't have to fraternize, will we?" Chester surprised everyone by speaking. "I get claustrophobic in large groups and I get nervous around ladies."

"We'll keep them locked up," replied the captain, "it will be just like any other cargo."

"Other cargo doesn't try to escape," Julie replied, nudging Gil to speak up.

"Ah, yes," stated Gil, not sure of what he was being asked to do. "Say for instance you had some crumpled paper. Now, unless you throw it, or push it, it remains inactive, but take a person, or persons or even an angry rabbit or gold fish, or perhaps a small mouse. Now if you cage a mouse, it will want to escape, it won't behave at all like a piece of paper unless it is asleep, then perhaps it would stay still like the paper, but even then, it would run away if you moved toward it because they are notoriously light sleepers." Gil saw his audience beginning to drift off mentally. "Perhaps a better comparison would be an average sized rock and a penguin..."

"I like your new pants, Gil," interrupted Mad Matt. "I hope you don't ruin those before the meeting."

"The meeting!" snapped the Captain. "We'd best move quickly or else we'll miss the meeting!"

"Do you really think this is a wise course of action?" asked Julie as the two ships moved closer.

"Two million golds," responded the captain, the whine of the bay doors softly echoing throughout the ship. "If Gil's presentation does not work, we'll still have a future!"

***

"What are they doing?" asked Galbard, staring at the view screen.

"It appears that they are capturing us," answered Tardy calmly.

"Why would a garbage ship wish to capture us?" snapped Galbard.

"It could be for the glory, it could be for the honor, it could be to get close to celebrities," listed Tardy, "oh, or it could be for the two million golds on our heads."

"Can we out maneuver them?" asked Galbard.

"We couldn't out maneuver a snail," replied the helmsman.

"Can we out run them?"

"Not unless there is a sudden gust of wind," replied Tardy, "which isn't likely given that we are in the vacuum of space."

"Can we fire on them?"

"Our weapons are down," announced Yeoman Xiang, "and even if they were functional, they would not even scratch that hull."

"Suggestions," asked Galbard.

"They're garbage men," mused Tardy, "offer them the women; I doubt they date much..."

"Perhaps something more constructive," suggested Galbard.

"If they don't date much, there is probably a reason for it," began Xiang, "I dated a sanitation inspector once..."

"Do we have any other ideas?" Galbard snapped.

A long silence followed.

"There is always pleading," replied Tardy. "Perhaps a direct appeal for mercy, captain to captain, might give them reason to pause in their course."

"Very well," stated Galbard, "open a hailing frequency." No one moved. "Hello, I'm the captain, I do the speaking, I don't open the hailing frequency. Can someone do that?"

"She went on break," the navigator replied.

"Tardy?" pleaded the captain.

"Oh, very well..."

Tardy walked over to a panel and flicked a toggle switch and then switched it quickly back. "We have a problem."

"You just noticed that?" asked Xiang.

Tardy continued, ignoring the remark, "Our communications console will not edit our voices. They will hear everything that is said by anyone on the bridge so please, everyone, remain silent and allow the captain and only the captain to speak because they will hear everything we are saying."

The crew nodded silently as Tardy snapped the toggle switch again.

"This is Captain Galbard, I wish to speak to the captain of the, uh..." he looked to Tardy, who comprehended immediately and mouthed the words "sanitation vessel".

"Sanitarium vessel," pronounced Galbard confidently.

For the first time, Tardy allowed himself to despair.

***

"He thinks we're a crazy ship," stated Mad Matt.

"That's what sanitarium means? I thought it was something you put plants in," Chester stated suspiciously.

"He's right," replied Julie, "we are a crazy ship for trying to confront a group of pirates."

Captain Stanwich considered the situation. "Should I answer him?"

"It would be rude not to," replied Gil before catching an evil glance from Julie.

"Don, open a channel."

The bulky Don lumbered to a panel and switched it on.

"This is the captain of the Aurora; we are a garbage vessel, not a crazy ship."

The speakers on the bridge crackled to life, "Sorry, sorry about that. This is Captain Galbard of the Constellation; I was wondering what your intention is?"

"Should I tell him?" asked Stanwich.

"No," stated Don, "we'll lose the element of surprise."

"I think you should tell me," the voice from the speakers urged.

"Don, you have it on the wrong setting, now they can hear everything we're saying." Nicole went to the panel, but could not adjust the setting. "We should disconnect and start over."

"No need to," smiled her father, seeing a teaching moment, "never say anything behind someone's back that you wouldn't say to their face!"

"We appreciate that," stated the voice and then, "Forget offering them the women, they have some of their own."

"Maybe they are tired of theirs and would like ours better," another male voice responded.

"We are not tired of ours," snapped Gil defensively, "we don't want your women!"

"So much for that plan," whispered Galbard.

"We will be placing you in our small cargo hold," the Captain announced suddenly, "you'll be kept there until we reach our destination, where we will collect our reward for your capture."

"Is that your real intention or is that just what you are telling me?"

"Should I tell him?" asked Stanwich to those assembled.

"No," stated Julie, exasperation creeping into her voice, "you have told him too much already."

"From the sounds of it, the offer of the women may not be completely off the table," stated another voice on the speaker.

"Yes it is," replied Gil. "I, for one, am married! Happily married!"

"Are there any others in authority over there who are either single or unhappily married?" asked the voice on the speaker politely.

Don raised his hand and then lowered it slowly under Julie's glare.

"Don, you're not in authority and you should try not to mix with women, it's just a bad idea," state the captain softly. "Besides, he can't see your hand; we're just using the speaker."

"Does anyone else have a hand up?" ask the voice hopefully.

"No, no other hands," replied Nicole, quickly realizing her mistake and taking on an embarrassed air.

"Is that true or are you trying to fool us?" the pirate captain asked, confusion obvious in his tone.

"If we were trying to fool you, we would not say we weren't and if we weren't, you would not believe us anyway," Julie stated.

"I might believe you, you cannot be sure!"

Julie looked imploringly at the captain, "If you take these people aboard the cumulative I.Q. of the ship will drop by half!"

"But our income will expand by two million!" he countered triumphantly. Pushing a switch, he began to close the bay hatch.

***

Apu Rupie paced the bridge of the cruise ship, "The Gluttonous Indulgence", sipping his coffee, his senses completely on alert. He had been against the garbage ship idea from the beginning and now he had to drop out of interplanetary speed in the middle of an unsafe zone to rendezvous with these people.

A tall, handsome man with dark eyes and inky black hair, he had been a champion rug merchant in his native India when the cruise line discovered his amazing ability at negotiations. Plucking him from obscurity, they had given him command of his own cruise ship and made him their expert negotiator. Rupie had worked wonders with the unions that negotiated contracts for the people who worked for the cruise line.

His only true flaw as a negotiator was that during the height of any crisis, he had a tendency to fall back into the abusive language he had once used when selling rugs in the bazaar, where bargaining could get personal and confrontational.

Running a hand through his thick black hair, he called out in a sharp tone, "Mister Makpu, drop us out of interplanetary speed. We have to meet with the garbage people."

Makpu, a short, dark skinned man with sinister eyes that never blinked in unison responded in a low voice. "As you command, Captain."

"Captain," called out Martin, a new member of the crew making his first cruise voyage, "scanners indicate two vessels ahead."

Rupie's face sunk into a puzzled grimace. "Two? How much garbage do they think we have?"

"One's the garbage ship," began Martin, brows drawn tightly together as he searched the scanners. Suddenly, his eyes became wide with terror, "Oh my God, Captain, IT'S THE CONSTELLATION!"

"The Constellation?" whispered Rupie. Regaining his composure, he cleared his throat and commanded, "Battle stations, battle stations, red alert, red ALERT!"

Makpu took the liner into a steep descent, the force of which caused the vacationing passengers to tumble about the ship, spilling complementary drinks and sloshing water out of the pool.

Recovering from his initial shock, Martin regained control of himself and the sensors. "The garbage ship is allowing the Constellation to dock in its bay! They're closing the bay doors!"

Rupie's eyes grew even wider in wonder, in his excitement reverting to the language skills he used in the market place. "That's how they do it, those fucking guys! That is how they evade capture! Who would check the contents of a garbage ship? It all makes sense now!" Turning to Makpu he stomped a foot for emphasis, "We must notify the fleet about these bastard, shit pricks immediately!"

The communications speaker crackled to life, "Ah Hoy, Gluttonous Indulgence, ah hoy! This is the sanitation vessel 72462, known as the Aurora; we are here for our scheduled rendezvous..."

"Halt immediately or I shall open fire bastard!" roared Rupie.

***

"What is the man on about?" asked Gil, as puzzled as everyone else.

"Maybe he did not hear you, skipper," suggested Mad Matt.

Captain Stanwich gave a shrug and began again, "Ah Hoy, Gluttonous Indulgence, this is Captain Stanwich, we had arranged a meeting with..."

"There will be no meeting, mother of dung," interrupted a highly excited accented voice, "come any closer and we'll blow you from the sky!"

"Blow us from the sky?" asked Nicky. "This must be some sort of joke."

"Can I speak to your captain?" asked Stanwich politely.

"I am the captain, fucking guy," snapped the voice.

Stanwich looked at Gil and Julie, hoping for some sort of guidance as he continued, "Begging your pardon, I meant no disrespect."

"Listen to me, fucking guy, bastard chicken," responded the voice, "I am the captain and I saw what you did, we all saw what you did! It all makes sense now, indeed, motherless dogface! We will see that you pay for your actions!"

More puzzled glances passed across the bridge. "Would you mind if we went to visual?" asked Stanwich.

A moment later the main screen blinked black before Rupie's image appeared on the screen. Rupie's eyes were bulging as if they were trying to launch themselves from his head and his mouth was contorted angrily.

"I am Captain Rupie," he announced defiantly, pointing at Stanwich.

"Captain, there seems to be some sort of confusion," began Stanwich. "We are the ones who arranged this meeting. My partner, Mr. Gil Johnson, is ready to pitch an important proposal..."

"If you come any closer, we will open fire and destroy you, ass monkey!" snapped Rupie. Feeling his mental capacity nearing exhaustion, Stanwich turned to Gil with an imploring look.

Stepping forward, Gil began, choosing his words carefully, "Hi, I'm Gil Johnson. I contacted your finance department about a week ago and I spoke to a Mr. Debarge. We were told to meet you here..."

"Don't try to worm your way out of it, fucking guy, we saw what you did!" interrupted Rupie, "Harboring pirates! You are blood thirsty devils! You just want an excuse to board this vessel and plunder and pillage and steal! Well, not this time, fucking guy, not this time! We saw what you did and you will pay the penalty!"

Drawing himself up haughtily, Gil continued, "Since when do pirates call up finance departments and book meetings? What pirate do you know brings along his wife to pillage? As far as harboring pirates is concerned, you have it all wrong; we captured those pirates and will be handing them over to the authorities as soon as our business with you is concluded!"

Rupie replied with a bitter laugh, "And since when do accountants and garbage men capture pirates? Answer me that dog pig bitch."

Gil's face grew an angry red, "Accountant? I am an Associate Redundancy Creator! I have never been an accountant!"

"You cannot deny the resemblance, can you potato shit, pasty faced, fucking guy," replied Rupie.

"Look here, Captain," snapped Stanwich, "Don't ever address my partner as an accountant again. You obviously aren't fit to command a vessel and I want to speak to your superior immediately!"

"The only thing you will speak to is my mazer cannon, blond orantotang!" replied Rupie defiantly.

Suddenly the transmission was cut off, the screen returning to a view of outer space, the cruise ship a beautiful white lump against the dark, twinkling background of the stars.

"What happened?" The words had barely escaped Gil's lips when a ball of light materialized near the bottom of the cruise ship and sped towards them.

"They have opened fire on us, Captain!" Mad Matt stated, anger growing in his voice. "Let's put them in the hold with the pirates and let them have their way with them!"

"A good idea," replied the captain grimly.

"A bad idea," interrupted Gil. "We are supposed to be having a business meeting; suddenly we are being shot at! Shouldn't you move the ship, that shot is about to hit us!"

"Not to worry, that thing can't hurt us," stated the captain with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Racing up to Julie, Gil grabbed her tightly, bracing himself as the light filled the screen. The light blinded them for a moment and then it was gone. Nothing had happened.

"They missed us!" smiled Gil.

"It was a direct hit," countered the captain, "I told you nothing would happen."

"If they shoot again, can I hold Julie?" asked Don.

"No!" snapped Julie and Gil in unison.

"Call them back," Gil insisted. "We cannot have them thinking we are in cahoots with a bunch of pirates!"

Before anyone could move, the cruise ship suddenly grew blurry and then... was gone.

"Oh wonderful," crabbed Mad Matt, "they jumped into hyperspace. We didn't even get a chance to fire back!"

"This is a disaster," Gil yelped, "we never got a chance to discuss the idea! The whole trip was for nothing!" Obviously moved, he put a hand on the captain's shoulder. "You will lose the Aurora all because of a silly misunderstanding."

The captain patted his hand happily, "Nonsense Gil. You are forgetting the reward! Once we turn that lot in the hold over to the authorities, we will never have to work again!"

***

On board the Constellation, consternation reigned. A hastily assembled officers meeting had been called in the big board room just off the bridge. Every important meeting was held in this room and it was here that some of the historic decisions in the Constellation's storied existence had been hammered out. Rising next to the highly polished table, Tardy prepared to speak, mindful of the great history of this place.

"I believe ladies and gentlemen that we must face the facts. It has been a good run, but our only option appears to be surrender."

A murmur broke amongst those gathered. Captain Galbard spit out a pistachio shell that bounced off the table and landed somewhere near the other end, "I am not sure, Skip. We have a lot of people depending upon us; there is a lot more at stake here besides this ship."

"I agree, captain, and that is why I think we should surrender. It is the only way to protect the others." Tardy's face grew dark, "Whether they imprison us or execute us does not matter. We have sworn to protect the others and we should honor that promise."

"Perhaps we could parley with them," offered Yeoman Xiang, "maybe they would negotiate. Captain Galbard is an expert negotiator..."

"Negotiating you out of your pants is one thing," snapped Doc Oswald, a short, nasty looking man in a dirty white coat and frantic gray hair, "but convincing them to let us go is quite another."

"Please, please," interrupted Galbard, "let us keep our minds out of Yeoman Xiang's pants or we won't get anything done."

"This just isn't my day," purred Xiang.

"What if we told them about the others?" Galbard's question hung in the air like an anvil.

"We cannot take that chance," Tardy argued, "we have no idea who these people are, never mind what they might be capable of."

"I think if the opportunity looks right, we might discuss the others," replied Galbard, "after all, the big man always says that is we are ever in danger and have no way out..."

"No way out is not the same as taking the honorable way out," Tardy stated. "We promised to protect the others."

"As a medical doctor, I would like to state that I am morally opposed to injecting these people with poison," crabbed Doc Oswald, "but if it will save our hides I will kill each and ever one of them personally..."

"I doubt they captured us because their medical coverage ran out," snapped Tardy.

"I'm a damn good doctor..."

"You drink too much and bathe too little to be a damn good doctor," laughed Galbard, "but your offer of assistance is duly noted. Now I think we might be able to negotiate. After all, we could almost match what they would get as a reward for turning us in..."

"They would probably prefer clean money," countered Tardy.

"Maybe, but who is to say?" smiled Galbard. To all gathered the inference that the captain was choosing a course of action was a welcomed sign. It appeared that Galbard had the beginnings of a plan. "We can slip into our pirate gear, make an offer of money and then casually remind them that on our money, they would avoid paying taxes. That alone makes ours the better offer!"

"It has possibilities," stated Xiang with a blizzard melting smile, "but if it does work, the ship had best be ready to get out of here and fast!"

"Good point," stated Doc Owens. "If we cannot get away, they could recapture us and we would be paying bail money again. As a humanitarian, I am all for the notion of peaceful dialogue, but if they become unreasonable, I have a nerve gas that will kill them faster than a Hungarian opera..."

"Again, duly noted," interrupted Tardy. "Then let us put this plan into action."

Together, those assembled rose and immediately dispersed. Galbard went to engineering in order to impress upon his chief engineer in no uncertain terms the need for speedy repairs. Tardy rushed to the general clothing locker to get the standard pirate gear and Xiang went to get body oil from the gym. Doc Owens quickly returned to sick bay, where he passed out. Ten minutes later, all, but the doctor, met on the bridge.

Tardy and Captain Galbard retreated to a side room, re-emerging moments later. Tardy wore a billowing white shirt, open to just under his impressive pecs, black pants stuffed into knee high boots, a red bandana and a large sash upon which hung a lethal looking dagger.

The captain wore a vest with no shirt underneath, red and black stripped pants stuffed into a highly polished pair of Wellingtons. Around his waist gleamed a gold sash holding a huge saber with a jeweled handle. On his head, a black bandana pulled tightly over his skull, the tied corners of it forming ribbons that hung to just below his shoulder blades. Yeoman Xiang approached, liberally applying body oil, first to Tardy's chest, then to the captain's exposed torso and powerful arms.

"How do we look?" Galbard asked those on the bridge. Without a moment of hesitation all on deck broke out into spontaneous applause. "Thank you," smiled Galbard.

"I feel like a drag queen," drawled Tardy.

"You look fine," encouraged Galbard.

"We look like a couple of rejects from children's programming," growled Tardy, "I always hate doing this..."

"Come now, Skip," coaxed Galbard, clearly in his element, "pirating cannot be all business! Some of it has to be fun too!"

Turning to Xiang, who was having a hard time controlling her admiration, Galbard asked, "Is the girl who works the switchboard back from lunch?"

"What's she got that I haven't got?" snapped Xiang.

"I just want to hail the other ship," replied Galbard.

"Oh, of course... Yes, she's back." Xiang pointed out a mousey looking woman with thick glasses dressed like a librarian, quietly sipping a cup of herbal tea. "Nora, the captain wants to send a message."

Nora looked up at Galbard like a frightened rabbit as he spoke gently to her, "Nora, I want to speak to the captain of the vessel that is holding us. Please make sure you get us screen to screen, not just voice, we want them to get the full effect."

"All right, captain," she replied timidly, manipulating the control panel.

"Step closer, Tardy," invoked Galbard. "It's showtime!"

Chapter 4

"I put on new pants for nothing!" complained Gil.

"You needed to cover yourself up anyway," replied Julie, "and besides, new pants are not the main issue here."

"I think pants are important," stated Mad Matt, "without them, chaos would reign. A good kind of chaos, but chaos none the less..."

"You would think a place without pants would cut down on confusion," mused the Captain.

"Can we stay focused please?" Julie rolled her eyes. "We need to notify the authorities of the capture. If the cruise ship gets to anyone first with their version of the story, we will have problems."

"Julie is right," Nicky stated, "we need to contact someone, Dad. We could go from heroes to outlaws ourselves if those people report what they thought they saw."

"Very well," the Captain nodded. "Don, open a hailing frequency..."

"Someone is hailing us already, captain," interrupted Don. "It's the pirates."

"Put them through, but then we have to contact the authorities," stated the Captain with a nod to Julie.

The main screen faded up on a picture of two men dressed in exotic costumes, swords, daggers and muscles prominent.

"I am Captain Galbard," intoned the blonde one authoritatively, "I would like to parley with the captain of the vessel that is presently detaining us!"

"He is gorgeous," Julie whispered to Nicky.

"So is the one next to him," replied Nicky, staring at Tardy, who was trying to hide his embarrassment by seeming to be stare at something far off.

"You're not going to swear at us like that other captain, are you?" barked out Stanwich suddenly, ruining the carefully orchestrated mood. "My partners and I don't like being sworn at and I don't like being called a fucking guy or an ass monkey."

Galbard frowned and glanced over his shoulder at Tardy, who gave him a quick, worried grimace and shrugged. "We just want to parley and I promise not to call you a fucking guy OR an ass monkey."

"I understand that people lose their temper," stressed the Captain sincerely, "and I like foreigners, I've eaten curry and it's delicious, but I don't like being called names in front of my crew. Why the other captain felt he should, heaven only knows, but there you have it. If you want to talk you can come out and speak to us..."

"My second in command will be joining us," interrupted Galbard, gesturing grandly towards Tardy who restrained his desire to roll his eyes.

"That will be fine," stated the captain, "but just the two of you. Also, leave your weapons inside the ship and no tricks and no secret pirate language..."

"No tricks," interrupted Galbard. "We will disembark and be at the lock door in a few minutes."

"Remember the rules," stated the captain, pointing at the screen for emphasis.

"No tricks," repeated Galbard, as the screen went blank.

"Panther go and get something to kill them with just in case," stated Stanwich. After Panther left the room, he turned to Julie and Gil, "I would appreciate it if you two would accompany me. I know I will surprise you, but occasionally I miss things and I do not want to make a mistake when dealing with pirates."

Gil and Julie exchanged a glance before Julie asked, "What about calling the authorities?"

"It will take a while for Don to get through to them," replied Stanwich matter of factly. "While we parley, he can call them. In the meanwhile, you two, Panther, Nicky and myself can parley."

Gil grimaced; his pants continued to seem less and less important.

***

"Fucking guys???" Tardy snapped as the screen went blank. "What was that about?"

"Ass Monkeys??? I am beginning to think our captor might be stark raving mad," replied Galbard thoughtfully. "I must admit I had not considered the possibility."

"Who are these people if they feel the need to begin the conversation with don't swear at us?" Tardy continued, "What "other" captain were they talking about?"

"The Valiant went missing in this area a few months ago," Yeoman Xiang stated. "Do you think that he is speaking about Captain Norvartis?"

"I have been monitoring communications since before we left Zooks and the authorities never announced capturing the Valiant."

Everyone turned to look in surprise at Nora who blushed a bright red. No one had ever heard her speak without being spoken too, "I just thought you would like to know..."

"Thank you, Nora," replied Tardy. "Captain, may I have a word with you?"

Galbard followed him to a corner of the bridge. "Captain, we may be dealing with something none of us had even considered; leeches!"

Galbard frowned, examining his chest in confusion, "You mean those gross, slug like things that live in swamps?"

Tardy took a deep breath, counted to three and continued, "No, I am talking about human blood suckers! Thieves who steal from thieves!"

Galbard grew agitated, "You mean they might be looking to rob us???"

"I think it is disgusting," snapped Tardy. "You work like a dog to make a dishonest living and someone wants to rob you!"

"I bet you they don't even belong to the union," grumbled Galbard. "Snakes just out for themselves; if you are correct, I hope they get caught. You fight like mad for dental benefits and then you have to deal with scabs!"

"Do either of you wish to be oiled again?" Xiang cried out from across the bridge.

"No, no thank you!" huffed the captain. "What should we do if they ARE scabs?"

Tardy considered it, "Call the Big Man. If they try any nonsense, we call the Big Man!"

Galbard nodded approvingly, "The Big Man," he repeated. "Let's not show our hand too early, but if they try anything, we go to the Big Man!"

***

The participants sat on opposite sides of a long table in the middle of the cafeteria, a room large enough to hold over one hundred and fifty people at a sitting. In an attempt to make the setting seem impressive, the captain had chosen this table and had dimmed the lights along the outer reaches of the room to center everyone's attention here.

Stanwich had carefully arranged the seating, placing Galbard opposite him in the center, Tardy to Galbard's right, Gil to Stanwich's right with Nicky to his left. Julie sat next to Gil and Panther stood at the very end of the table, rifle mazer in hand.

Understanding that this was an important occasion, Stanwich attempted to be solemn and dignified.

"Gentlemen," he began formally, "our plan is to take you and your crew to the nearest police planet and turn you in. Please do not try to escape the inevitable; it will only make the journey harder for you." Pointing to the dish he had carefully arranged in the center of the table he asked politely, "Would you like a snack? We have chocolate glazed donuts, vanilla Yeppies and cream filled Snoggles. I tried to get some cherry filled Zippies, but the food processor just would not produce them in time..."

"No, no snack," replied Galbard grimly, though a chocolate glazed donut would have really hit the spot. "May I ask why you are taking us to the authorities?"

"It is the duty of every citizen to uphold the law," replied Gil solemnly.

"And hopefully to make a big profit while doing so," added Stanwich.

"If it is money you want, we could pay you for our release," replied Tardy, "as I'm sure Captain Norvartis tried to do."

Gil and Stanwich exchanged glances, "I am afraid I don't know a Captain Norvartis. What ship does he command?"

"How did you know the captain was a he?" snapped Tardy.

"Norvartis is a woman's name?" asked Stanwich, surprise evident in his voice.

"Norvartis is his last name," corrected Galbard.

"Norvartis is his last name too?" Stanwich looked at Gil astonished, "Who would name their child Norvartis Norvartis?"

"His first name was Edward," Tardy interjected.

Stanwich shook his head, "How many names does this man have?"

"And why is he important?" asked Gil.

"He is missing and we have suspicions that you might know what has happened to him." Galbard drew himself up haughtily, "We think you might have done to him what you plan to do to us."

"We don't plan to do anything to you," replied Stanwich, "other than turn you in and make a lot of money..."

"We can pay you two million golds for our release," stated Galbard. "Tax free and immediately."

"And you won't have to fill out forms," added Tardy.

"The duty of every citizen is to uphold the law," intoned Gil. "You are pirates, well known pirates who have committed many atrocities."

"Wait a moment," interrupted Tardy, "I am not saying we are the nicest people you will ever meet, but we are not cut throats."

"You are non-cut throat pirates who will pay us two million golds to set you free?" asked Stanwich.

"Exactly," replied Tardy. "Two million tax free!"

Nudging Gil, Stanwich excused them and together they withdrew to another table for a conference. "He is talking two million golds, tax free, which, as a business proposition, is much better than what the government is offering."

"It is every citizen's duty..." began Gil.

"Wait a moment, Gil," interrupted Julie, "the Captain does have a point."

Gil could not contain his surprise. "Julie are you suggesting that we release known killers when we have a chance..."

"Gil, I am merely saying that I can understand the Captain's reaction. We would not be here if the government had not fired the Captain and his crew. We would not be involved at all if the government had not suggested that these people starve!"

"I have to agree," nodded Stanwich. "For my part, I would be happily hauling garbage if the government had not fired me. I mean, it is not just me, I have my daughter and my men to think of."

"It is not safe for Nicky to be associating with pirates," intoned Julie, "we should try to limit that exposure. We should take the money and run!"

"Julie, there is a moral obligation here," sputtered Gil. "These men are dangerous killers..."

"What if we could give you a character reference?" called out Galbard suddenly.

"Nonsense!" Gil wheeled about and strode back to the table, "Who do you know that I would accept a character reference from?"

"Captain, I do not think this is wise," muttered Tardy.

"Nonsense," replied Galbard under his breath, "they are on the fence, we need to push them over!"

"It will jeopardize every person on Zooks..."

"Our capture will jeopardize them as well."

A voice broke over the intercom system, "Captain to the bridge."

Annoyed, Stanwich moved to a wall plate and hit a button. "We are in conference."

"We have a government vessel requesting our surrender," stated Mad Matt.

"I knew he should have made the call first," groaned Julie.

***

By the time everyone had gotten to the bridge, two small government cruisers stood floating in the inky blackness of space before them. The viewing screen suddenly filled with a picture of a thin, scraggily looking man with a thick head of gray and red hair. His uniform hung loosely on his boney frame.

"This is Captain Skittles of the United Planetary ship, Zanzibar. We have had a report that your vessel has been commissioned by and is operating in tandem with known pirates. We want you to surrender your vessel immediately."

"I am Captain Jerod Stanwich. We captured the pirates you speak of," replied the Captain, "and are on route to the authorities to turn them over for the reward that has been offered!"

"If your story checks out, you will be released," grumbled Skittles, "if not, you will be arrested."

"What about our reward?" snapped Stanwich, sweeping his arm towards Galbard and Tardy. "We captured them, I for one want assurances that you will acknowledge that fact. We need the money, I have payments left on this ship, the men need shoes..."

"We do not negotiate with terrorists," snapped Skittles. "Stand down."

"Terrorists?" snapped Panther, "We risk our lives capturing these pirates and they call us terrorists?"

"How can you say you don't negotiate with terrorists?" asked Mad Matt. "The government just signed a contract with the International Lunch Ladies Association last week and if you're telling me they aren't terrorists..."

Gil felt his tubing beginning to strain. "He is a government official," he whispered urgently to Stanwich.

"We deserve a guarantee," countered Mad Matt.

"Seems reasonable to me," stated Galbard.

"If you prove that you are acting as true citizens should, we will be happy to share the reward with you," Skittles stated.

"Share?" snapped Stanwich. "Share with who? It is our money? Share with you?"

"If you have captured the Constellation and if that man behind you really is Captain Galbard, then you would be entitled to half the reward."

"Half?" snapped Gil, his sense of fairness injured, "Now look here my good man, I too work for the government, I am an Associate Redundancy Creator..."

"What are you doing, firing pirates?" chuckled Skittles.

"He didn't fire the pirates, he fired me and my crew," replied Stanwich. "But that's in the past, we're partners now."

"Partners in crime!" replied Skittles.

"Partners in garbage," Gil said, with dignity. "We contacted that cruise line to discuss an important new idea in waste disposal and the captain they sent to discuss the matter jumped to all sorts of ridiculous conclusions..."

"He used foul language," added Nicky, "and had a very thick accent."

"He fired on us," growled Stanwich, "even though I like curry, he fired on us!"

"So that's where the foreigner thing comes from," Tardy elbowed Galbard. "It makes a little more sense now."

"But what about the snacks," asked Galbard pointedly, "Where do they fit in?"

"You wanted a donut, didn't you?" asked Stanwich, wheeling about suddenly. Galbard gave him a concurring laugh, "I knew it. I said to myself, if we weren't being so formal, he'd have that donut, he's eyeing it!"

Skittles interrupted, "Is this some sort of secret pirate language? What do you mean by donut?"

"No, we had a strict agreement about that," Panther stated, "no secret pirate language."

Skittles considered it, "Alright then, you're all mad, helmsman, open fire!"

"Battle stations!" roared Galbard. Noting everyone just staring at him, he looked at them sheepishly, "Sorry, force of habit."

The image of Skittles faded, replaced by the image of two ships with two balls of light speeding from them and right at the Aurora.

"Shouldn't we attempt to maneuver?" asked Tardy.

"Too late," replied Mad Matt.

"Brace for impact," snapped Galbard.

"Can I hold Julie this time?" asked Don.

"No!" snapped Julie.

Light filled the screen and then... nothing. The pirates eyed their captors curiously.

"Can we fire back this time?" asked Mad Matt. Suddenly the two ships blurred and disappeared. "That's the second time today someone shot at us and we didn't fire back, it's unfair! Not only is it unfair, it's really starting to piss me off!"

"I think you are missing the point," snapped Gil, suppressing a deep longing for his cramped cube and beastly secretary. "Those government ships are running to get reinforcements. If we don't get these people to a police planet immediately and show them that we are not part of their operation, we will be branded as criminals."

Stanwich rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Panther, take our guest to a holding cell. We need to speak amongst ourselves."

Panther motioned the two men towards a doorway. Galbard and Tardy exchanged calm glances as they followed. "Oh, and Panther..."

Panther called out over his shoulder, "Yes, captain."

The captain's eye's narrowed, "See that they get some donuts."

***

The stars moved past the Aurora at a steady clip, the captain maneuvering the big vessel as he conducted the meeting.

"We could say they escaped," Don offered politely.

"They are criminals," replied Gil for the thirty second time. "We can't just release them back into the wild like rehabilitated wolves."

"Do you watch the nature channel?" asked Chester suddenly. "I love the programs with the otters; they look like they would be so soft..."

"The nature channel is not the point," interrupted Stanwich, "though I'm more partial to the chinchillas. For my money you can't find a softer animal and as far as cute goes, what's not to like? They seem to be half rabbit, half koala. What's cuter than a half rabbit, half koala? Maybe a half rabbit, half duck, if you stuck with the duck's body and the rabbit's fur, but mind you, I still think it would be a distant second."

"I don't think a duck has a cuter body than a rabbit," countered Nicole.

"Nicole," hissed Julie between clenched teeth.

Nicole blinked rapidly, "Oh, sorry."

"Please, focus," begged Gil. "We are harboring fugitives and the government is sending ships to arrest us. We need to figure out how to get back on the right side of law and order."

"The problem is that getting back on the right side of law and order will place us right back where we began," stated Stanwich. "The cruise line won't negotiate with us, so your wonderful idea is up in smoke and we'll lose the ship if I can't make the payments so even if we eventually get some of the reward money, which I doubt, we'll starve to death before we can collect it."

"Perhaps we could go into the otter business," stated Chester, the light of reason snuffed from his eyes.

"Pie in the sky," replied Stanwich with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"We have another alternative," stated Julie quietly. All turned to look at her. "The pirates said they had a character witness. If they are someone we could trust, maybe we could, in good conscience, accept their offer and release them."

"Who could they possibly produce that we could trust?" asked Gil, suddenly glad that he had not started his exercise regime today as he was sure any additional strain would kill him.

"We won't know until we ask them," stated Julie. "At least it's worth asking about."

"I'm with Julie," stated Stanwich. "It can't hurt to ask and maybe the person is a celebrity. If we could get an autograph, we could sell it and make some money so as not to starve to death."

"Now you're talking sense," stated Don.

"You wouldn't know talking sense if talking sense came up and bit you on the bottom," snapped Gil.

Julie burst out laughing, "Another joke, Gil. You are just full of surprises!"

***

Galbard stood in the center of the detention cell, a square, all white room about ten feet by ten feet. Two cots protruded from the walls and a sink and toilet sat poised for business in the corner. Why would a garbage skip need detention cells, he wondered, were they afraid that someone was stealing the garbage? Garbage must be a lot more exciting then he had imagined.

"What do you think they are talking about?"

"I have no idea," replied Tardy in a bored voice, "and wipe off your chest; you have donut crumbs on it."

Galbard swiped at the crumbs, "Darned oil makes them stick."

"What do you think?" asked Tardy.

"It was a good donut," replied Galbard.

"Not the donut," replied Tardy, "what do you think they are talking about?"

"Oh, that. Well, they are in a bind; they don't know whether to believe us and the government doesn't believe them. If they give us up, they probably get nothing and if they release us, they get something, but if they get caught, well then they lose everything. It is a pretty complicated situation. If I were in their shoes, I'd take our money and run and hope no one caught me."

"That one fellow is a problem, the civic duty fellow with the "it is every citizen's duty" nonsense," waved Tardy. "I don't mind noble mindedness, I think it is a positive thing, but I have to admit that it is a bother when it can get you killed."

"Now that isn't particularly noble minded..."

Tardy reflected a moment, "I've never claimed to be noble minded myself..."

"What do you think of the women?" asked Galbard suddenly.

"You have to be kidding," laughed Tardy. "These people are sitting out there like some old west lynch mob and you are thinking of the women?"

Galbard strode over to one of the cots protruding from the wall and sat down. "I need something to occupy my time. I saw you looking at the younger one."

"I looked at everyone," replied Tardy.

"Don't get defensive," smiled Galbard, suddenly sing-songing, "Tardy's got a girlfriend, Tardy's got a girlfriend..."

"Quit it," snapped Tardy. Regaining his composure he continued, "We need to focus on the problem at hand. I am sure that is what they are doing."

***

"First off it makes no sense, it can't be done, the logistics of the thing...." Stanwich sputtered, unable to come up with the necessary words. "A lion's head would not even fit on a rabbit's body, the necks are incompatible!"

"You would have to taper the neck line," interrupted Panther.

"The weight of the head would be greater than the body!" stated Stanwich, "It would fall over, it would never be able to support itself! And besides not being cuddly in any way, shape or form, there is no way you can taper a neck like that! A lion has a massive neck; a rabbit has no neck at all! They're like bulldogs or Italians..."

"Please," begged Julie, "can we focus on the problem at hand? What are we going to do?"

"Fine," snipped Gil, sure that his tubing had run the course of its useful life, "fine, we'll ask them who their reference is, but I'm telling you, it will not be anyone you can trust. We will end up right where we are now."

"Panther," called out Captain Stanwich, "could you bring our guests back in, we need to speak with them."

"I'll get them," replied Panther, full of dignity, "but any man who can't imagine how to taper a lion's head to a rabbit's body should not be making command decisions."

The group fell silent as they waited for their guest to return.

"Perhaps Nicky shouldn't be here," said Julie suddenly. "We don't want her over exposed to pirates."

Stanwich eyed his daughter suspiciously, "No, I think she is covered up decently. I mean, if she wants to put on a sweater..."

The door opened and in strode Galbard and Tardy, Panther stalking behind them, mazer at the ready.

"How was your donut?" called out Stanwich.

"Yummy," replied Galbard, cursing himself for his choice of words immediately after he said it.

Gil stated, "We do not want to seem like hard people, so we are going to allow you to produce your character witness."

Tardy tugged on Galbard's arm, "I don't like this..."

"Nonsense," replied Galbard, "we have nothing to fear and neither does he."

Stepping towards the control panel, he motioned to Stanwich, "Do you want me to place the call or just give you the communication coordinates to reach him?"

Sliding back his chair, with a sweep of his arm Stanwich gave Galbard full access to the ship's controls, "It's all yours."

"No!" yelled everyone on the bridge.

"Perhaps it would be best if you put in the communication coordinates," said Gil through clenched teeth.

Stanwich shrugged and slid his chair back to the console, "Very well, but I'm telling you now, I'm the only one getting paid today because so far, I'm the only one working."

Galbard ran off a string of coordinates which Stanwich entered into the computer. A moment passed and then a voice was heard, "Benny's Pizza."

Everyone stared at Galbard.

"That is secret pirate code," he stated reasonably. "Well, they very well couldn't answer "Pirate Headquarters" could they?" The group nodded at the justice in what he said. "I'd like to speak to Benny."

"Benny isn't in," replied the voice.

"I want my pizza with anchovies," replied Galbard.

"Do you want a beverage?" asked the voice.

"Yes, a frosty one!" emphasized Galbard.

"This is secret pirate language?" asked Stanwich, clearly disappointed. "You couldn't come up with anything better than this?"

"I'm hungry," called out Don, "are we really getting pizza?"

"Apparently not," replied Julie, "but I can't say for sure."

"Benny does not have a frosty beverage," replied the voice deliberately, "but he will sell you an egg roll that he found in the freezer."

"It is probably old and freezer burned," enunciated Galbard, "I should like free napkins."

"Free napkins?" snapped the voice on the other end. "Please hold."

"Most places give you free napkins," mused Panther, "you wouldn't think it would rattle them so."

"It is part of the secret pirate code," explained Gil, "they aren't really talking about napkins."

"I'm still hungry," stated Don quietly.

A rough, grating voice boomed out of the speakers, "This is Benny, what is your situation."

"We have been captured," replied Galbard. "The Constellation is currently being held captive in the bay of a garbage ship and the crew asked for references."

A jagged sigh came over the intercom. "You couldn't negotiate with them?"

"No," replied Galbard, eyeing Gil unkindly, "they would not negotiate. We had no alternative."

"Very well," replied the voice. "To the captain of the vessel that has the Constellation captive, please turn on your viewing screen."

Stanwich snapped a switch and the screen blinked to life. The whole bridge gasped; seated before them was a short, stocky man with a large nose and dark penetrating eyes who looked to be about 60 years of age. Upon his bald head he sported a bright scarlet beanie and he wore a bright scarlet sash about his waist. On his ample chest sat an ornate pectoral cross.

"I am Cardinal Benito Rugatelli," stated the man, "Papal Prefect of Pirates."

"So you don't make pizza?" asked Don slowly.

"I don't make anything," replied the Cardinal, "I've got a housekeeper, she cooks like a dream, been with me for years."

"You know these people?" asked Julie incredulously.

"It is a bit hard to explain," stated the Cardinal, "but I'm sort of their caretaker."

"You take care of pirates?" asked Gil.

The Cardinal smiled, "I know, I know, it's kind of like having a bad dog; sure, he drives the neighbors crazy, but he's still your dog."

"Thank you, your Eminence," smiled Galbard proudly.

"What?" Gil was sure that his tubing was giving way and that vital body fluids were currently pooling in regions they should not be.

"Hold on, hold on," stammer Julie. "How do we know you are a Cardinal? You could just be dressed up like one, I mean, you certainly do not sound like a Cardinal, you sound like a hoodlum, no disrespect intended if you are a Cardinal."

"I was born and raised in Brooklyn, New York," frowned the Cardinal apologetically, "we all sound like hoodlums. The gravelly voice is a gift from my father. I thought he sounded like this because he smoked like a chimney till the day he died, God rest his soul, but turns out it's hereditary. I wanted to sing opera; I end up sounding like a car backfiring every time I open my mouth. What are you gonna do?"

"How can we check to see if you really are a Cardinal?" asked Gil.

"Simple," smiled the Cardinal, "call the Vatican. Ask for me, they'll connect you to the library..."

"The library?" asked Stanwich.

The Cardinal rolled his eyes, "Yes, the library. See, his Holiness figures, who goes to the library? You need to be a scholar, most people can't get in, everything is too fragile to touch, so only scholars get permission to use the facilities and scholars don't want to talk to the Cardinal in charge, they want to talk to other scholars who know what they're talking about."

"So you're not a librarian?" asked Nicky.

"What do I know from libraries?" laughed the Cardinal. "They got mad at me cause I re-filed everything my first week there. I figure in the Vatican Library you need to file under three letters, A for ancient, P for pope and S for saint. Maybe you include an O for other, but pretty much everything they've got falls under those three categories. Well some of the other Cardinals took exception, so when this assignment came up, the Holy Father thought I might be the man for it, so he sends me here, but in secret. In the meantime, I've got a secretary at the Vatican who diverts all my calls to people who actually know about library issues, I'm always in conference or working on a priceless manuscript. I make the occasional appearance, I cut ribbons to open new wings to the place, I give speeches and I come back here. No one knows. If you call the Vatican Library and ask for me, you'll get the secretary, she'll tell you I can't be talked too. Tell her Machiavelli sent you, she'll patch you through, you'll see. God bless."

With that, the connection ended.

"I think I'm losing my mind," stated Gil.

"Can I have your new pants if you go crazy?" asked Chester.

***

A pretty young woman with an Italian accent smiled down at them from the screen, her bright brown eyes sympathetic, her demeanor professional. "I'm a sorry, signore, but da Cardinal, he is examine a priceless manuscript today. Very old, very valuable, he no can be disturbed."

"Machiavelli sent me," stated Stanwich sheepishly, feeling a bit ridiculous. He thought secret pirate language would be intricate and ornate, this was just plain silly.

"Scusa?" asked the girl, her expression suddenly intent.

"I said, Machiavelli sent me," replied Stanwich with a little more enthusiasm. Was this going to work? Suddenly secret pirate language wasn't completely silly, it was empowering, like voting in an election or wearing the right sized bra.

"Hold please," the woman stated with a frown and the screen went blank. A moment later the screen came to life again, Cardinal Benito taking center stage once more.

"And we're back," he laughed.

"None of this makes any sense," stated Julie. "How can the Church be mixed up with pirates?"

"You'd be surprised," stated the Cardinal, "but the only way to really answer your question is for you to come to Zooks. Captain Galbard, how far are you from Zooks?"

Galbard hesitated and then peeked over Captain Stanwich's shoulder to look at the control panel. "I'd say we could be there in about an hour, maybe an hour and a half."

"Look," said the Cardinal, addressing the group, "I know this whole thing seems crazy, but why don't you come here and we can talk. It really is the only way to clear all this up."

Captain Stanwich looked at Gil and Julie, "Sounds reasonable."

"I don't know what reasonable sounds like anymore," responded Gil, certain that the springiness he felt in his feet was from pooling bodily fluids.

"Very well," stated Julie, "let us go to Zooks, wherever that is, and get this whole mess cleared up."

Chapter 5

The landing field at Zooks was beautiful to look at from the air, a massive open field of green with a few buildings scattered at a great distance surrounding it. The Aurora touched down gently on a concrete pad in the middle of the field, offering a spectacular view of farmland as far as the eye could see. Houses and silos, dirt roads and fields alternating crops and critters stretched out into the hills some miles distant. A horse drawn carriage could be seen moving slowly towards the great ship and if they were not mistaken, the man sitting in the back seemed to be wearing a scarlet beanie.

"For our protection, I cannot release your ship or your crew until we get this straightened out," stated Stanwich to Galbard.

"Of course, I understand. Mr. Tardy and I still consider ourselves your prisoners and will act accordingly."

"Julie, Gil, Nicky and I will go and meet the Cardinal," continued Stanwich after some thought. "Panther, you and Mad Matt return them to the hold. Don, you and Chester wait here."

"Ay, captain," replied Panther. "Let's go, you two, we'll soon have this all straightened out."

The four men moved quietly towards the door leading to the hallway leading to the hold. Tardy gave Nichole a smile as he passed her and was pleased to see her smile back. Once in the hall, Galbard gave him a knowing glance to which Tardy responded with a playful slap on the head.

The air was crisp and clean and smelled vaguely of manure as they exited the ship. Gil marveled at how far the sky ran in every direction. Somehow, living in the city, you got the impression that the sky was only a block long and as wide as the street, but here, it was blue with wispy clouds and went on forever.

It was not until they had departed the ship that Gil pondered the idea of being armed. After all, they had no idea who these people really were, what if they kidnapped them?

"Do you think we should have brought along some weapons?" he asked nervously as the carriage holding the Cardinal drew nearer.

"It might have been a wise thing to do," considered Stanwich, "but it's too late now, unless we make a mad dash for the ship. But if we do that, they may think we're up to something and open fire."

"I didn't even think of it," confessed Julie. "Still, we have their people under lock and key, our people could always negotiate for our release."

"If they need to negotiate, I hope Panther takes over the negotiations on our end," confessed Stanwich. "If they get hold of Don, he'd exchange us and the ship for a sandwich. He's a good man mind you, but has no sense of what things cost..."

"Oh, God," said Nicole suddenly.

"What's the matter?" asked Julie.

"What if they negotiate with Chester?" she asked, a look of terror in her eyes.

"In that case, you can forget the sandwich," mused the Captain.

The carriage drew up besides them, a large black carriage with bright yellow wheels and no top. It was large and comfortable looking and looked brand new from the showroom if the showroom was from sometime in the 1830's. The interior was a bright red velvet and there was room for 8 people. The man driving the carriage looked odd; it was hard to tell his age exactly, but Gil would have guessed him to be about 60 years old. He was wearing a large brimmed straw hat with a low crown and had a full beard that flowed down to his chest, but no mustache. His clothing was plain and he wore suspenders. As the carriage drew to a stop, the Cardinal rose and, pushing the door open, jumping down to the ground. He was taller in person, solidly built and he moved like a man half his age.

"Welcome," he called out as he crossed to them, his hand extended in friendship. "It's very nice to finally meet you in person."

Captain Stanwich took his hand and pumped it energetically. "So you're the librarian? I am Captain Jerod Stanwich of the good ship Aurora. These are my partners, Julie and Gil Johnson."

The Cardinal laughed as Julie took his hand next and eyed the large ring on his hand, "See? So, do you believe I'm a Cardinal finally?"

"I'm not sure," she replied.

"Fair enough," he smiled. "And who is this, your daughter?"

"No, she's my daughter!" interrupted Stanwich with pride. "This is Nicole, Nicole, this is Cardinal Benny."

"Dad, you don't call a Cardinal, Benny," whispered Nicole.

"It's the man's name," explained the Captain patiently. "She's a bright young lady, but sometimes she doesn't pay attention."

"It's very nice to meet all of you. Look, why don't we go over to my residence and sit and talk. I'm sure we can straighten all of this out." With a gesture, the Cardinal led them to his carriage and once they were all settled, he called out, "Jacob, to the rectory if you please."

The man gave a click of his tongue and flicked the reigns and they were off.

"Where are we?" asked Gil. "I mean, what is this place? I've never heard of Zooks."

"Of course you haven't," replied the Cardinal, "we don't advertise it. As far as anyone knows, this planet is virtually uninhabited. They believe that there are a few scientists up here taking rock samples and that's about it. The Vatican claimed the planet about 30 years ago and the government has no interest in it, so it is the perfect place for the set up we have."

"I don't understand," said Julie, still unsure if the man was a thief or not, "why does the Vatican need a planet to hide pirates?"

"It's a long story, so I might as well start it now," stated the Cardinal. "About 30 years ago, a crisis arose which the government wouldn't address. There was a famine in Africa..."

"I thought the government had done away with famines in Africa," state Gil.

"No," replied the cardinal, "they just did away with reporting them. They never really solved the whole "starving people" aspect of the problem. Anyway, there was a famine in Africa and people were dying and we had to do something about it. It is, after all, our line of work. Anyway, it was then that a group of scientist came to us, undercover, you might say, and told us about this planet. It is a great place, plenty of water, sunshine, good soil, the works. His Holiness decides he's going to ask the government to let us, at our own expense mind you, send the starving people here; we'll send them to start a new life, one with all the modern conveniences, like food. Before we can do that, however, another problem arose."

"And what was that?" asked Stanwich.

"Well, the government enacted the Teletubby Act of 08."

"What is that?" asked Nicole.

"It's a law the people in Congress passed. In short, according to the Teletubby Act people who reject modern appliances are detrimental to the welfare of society in general. Anyway, this put certain people in a bad position. Some people don't use modern appliances, like my friend Jacob up there; he won't even use a zipper!"

"Are you talking dirty?" asked the Captain, unsure if he should laugh or not.

"I'm a Cardinal," replied Benny pointedly, "I only talk dirty to other Cardinals. Anyway, the Vatican gets another call. Now the Amish want us to help them out because they reject modern appliances and the government is forcing them to own telephones and refrigerators and electric blankets. Also, our negotiations to send the starving people here aren't going too well, the government won't even consider it because to do so, they would have to admit that there was a problem, so we decided to hold a synod."

"What's a synod?" asked Nicole.

"It's a meeting for men in beanies," explained her father patiently.

"Not a flattering description, but accurate," admitted the Cardinal. "Anyway, we get together and decide we have to do something. The government wants to send the Amish for reeducation, which they don't want and they want the African people to starve, which they don't want, so we came up with our own plan."

"And what was that?" asked Gil.

"We transplanted the Amish here. We had no power plants here or high tech equipment, but the Amish can live just about anywhere with almost nothing, so they were the perfect settlers. Then we took the starving people in Africa and substituted them for the Amish and sent them through the government reeducation system in their place. They were happy to relocate and play along at being educated in the use of modern appliances and then they were given jobs, so everything worked out for them too. The Amish were happy because they have their farms and community in tact and they can worship how they want and the African people were happy because they got to eat."

"But didn't the government officials become suspicious," asked Gil, " I mean, the people from Africa, were they not all people of a different pigmentation but equal value and worth?"

The Cardinal looked at him blankly. "What?"

"He means black," interrupted Stanwich, proud that he was in the know for once. "Weren't the African people black? The Amish, on the other hand, have a tendency to be on the whiter side of things. Take your friend Jacob here, well he's the whitest man I've ever seen, accept for an albino fellow I knew in the third grade..."

"Oh, I see what you mean," laughed the Cardinal, shifting slightly closer for emphasis. "You forget these people were government officials. Government officials never look up from their paper work, no one questioned the fact that all the "Amish" were black, or wearing African head dress or spoke with accents entirely different than what they should have been. Of course, the African people had to take on Amish names, at least for the government paperwork. They integrated their real names of course, I mean they ended up with things like Jacob Aldobo Abuto Reisman, but no one said anything about it. Our worry was that there was a discrepancy, see we had three million Africans and a million and a half Amish, but we were able to explain it to the officials by saying that the Amish multiply quickly because of their lack of electricity. Without electricity they have no distractions, like television or radio or trying to get their Christmas lights to light, except half the strand is blinking and the other half won't light at all and... well they have no distractions."

Gil looked down at his feet. He thought back to his training, it was a rule, "Never establish eye contact". Had he ever been fooled into thinking that a person was Amish who hadn't been? What about that time that midget had come in and he fired him from that basketball team? Was it really a little person league or was there more to that situation? Had his career been a farce? His tubing creaked.

"I'm still confused," stated Julie. "Where do the pirates come in?"

The Cardinal sat back, "Well," he drawled, "the government doesn't really know about this place. You see, we could sneak the African people over to Amish country easy enough, but we couldn't just book passage in space freighters to transport the Amish here. It would arouse suspicion if a culture that rejects electricity suddenly gets the urge to take up interplanetary travel. Also, we would have had to give a reason for them coming here, it's not like it's a vacation resort, so what we did is we hired some unlicensed contractors to bring them here."

"The pirates," stated Nicole.

"Your Dad is right; you are a smart young lady."

The carriage slowed as it moved through a set of stone gates. Behind the gates, a large lawn was being mowed by about a dozen very fat sheep. Behind the sheep stood a few grand, old trees and beyond the trees, a sturdy looking, two story, flagstone house. The carriage drew up to the small front porch and stopped.

Jacob slowly stepped down from his perch and opening the carriage door, he offered his hand to the ladies as they stepped down.

"It's a lovely house," stated Julie.

"Later, I'll take you to see the gardens in back," replied the Cardinal, "the Amish do an amazing job with them. I've got roses as big as your head; I'm telling you these people could make a stone pillar grow wheat. Their whole bodies are green, never mind just their thumbs!"

The door to the house swung slowly inwards and a short, stout woman stood glaring at the group as they slowly advanced towards her led by the Cardinal. She was about 75 years of age but looked older and wore her gray hair swept up in a bun and her mouth swept down in a scowl.

"Theresa, these people are joining us for lunch today. The office was supposed to call you to let you know."

"I made lunch, it's getting cold," snapped the woman.

"This is Theresa, she is the cook here at St. Christopher's," stated the Cardinal, apparently anxious to get the introductions over with.

"I don't see why they had to come here," stated Theresa grouchily, "they have a cafeteria at the diocesan offices don't they?"

"It was not appropriate to take our guest to a cafeteria," stated the Cardinal wearily, giving the group an apologetic smile.

"Work here for 40 years," crabbed Theresa to no one in particular, the Cardinal and his guests entering the house in her wake, "no one shows any respect. "Oh, the Cardinal will be by in an hour with 20 people, could you make them lunch?" as if I have nothing to do. Cook and clean for them, they're all just a big bunch of babies, that's all. They can't work the iron, they can't work the stove."

Suddenly wheeling on the group she blurted out, "Do you know what Father Steve did this morning?"

The group froze, unsure what to say, but Theresa just kept going, hands on her hips, frown growing deeper. "Do I have any handkerchiefs, Theresa," she asked, imitating what they assumed must be Father Steve's voice, "I can't find my handkerchiefs." Does he look in his draw? Does he look where they have been for the last 50 years, every day, every week for the last 50 years, does he look?"

"Father Steve is getting older," stated the Cardinal gently, ushering his guests into the house, "he sometimes forgets."

"Am I getting younger?" snapped Theresa. "What do you think, 60 years hasn't happened to me? Aah!" With a wave of her gnarled hand, the angry woman disappeared through a large, dark wooden door.

"Perhaps we should go to a restaurant," offered Stanwich. "I usually do not make predictions, but I'm pretty sure she is going to spit in our food."

"Nonsense," laughed the Cardinal, "she's just miserable. Don't let it upset you. I've known her for 30 years, the woman has never been happy."

"Why do you keep her?" asked Nicole. "It can't be easy on everyone if she is always unhappy."

The Cardinal shrugged. "First off, she's a good cook. Second off, she needs the job; she's a widow, her husband died young. She tells everyone he died in a factory explosion; personally I think he blew himself up to get away from her. Finally, my residence serves not only as a home for retired priests like Father Steve, but as the seminary as well. In her, those thinking of the priesthood have a sterling example of why, for some of us, it is best not to marry."

After negotiating a long hallway filled with pictures of little girls dressed in plaid jumpers and little boys dressed in dark pants, white shirts and ties standing along side Sisters in long habits with stern expressions, they entered the dinning room. The room was beautifully paneled in dark wood, a crucifix on one wall, a picture of the Pope on the other. In the center of the room sat a magnificently carved wooden table, big enough to seat 20, with ornately carved wooden chairs. The carpet was a dull red. The whole place smelled of incense and spaghetti sauce.

The Cardinal gestured them towards the table and once they were seated, conversation languished a moment. It was then that Julie noticed her husband's silence. Was he obsessing about his heart again? This was no time to start obsessing.

"I think you should say something," she prompted softly.

With a start, Gil stated, "I am a little confused, how could the Vatican claim this planet?"

The Cardinal smiled mischievously. "Like I said before, a group of scientist came to us about this planet; they feared the government would exploit the natural resources here and ruin the place. We came up with a plan."

"Once the scientist told the government that they had found this planet, the Vatican produced an ancient document that stated that the planet was claimed by a little known king back in the second century as a gift to his wife. The deed to the place was given to the Vatican 150 years later when his great-great-great grandson converted to the faith and so the planet rightfully belonged to us. After examining the document, the government conceded ownership. We gave the scientist's free reign to conduct experiments and they say nothing about the four million people we have living here."

"Four million?" asked Nicole. "I thought you said there were one and a half million Amish."

"There are," stated the Cardinal, "but we also have pirates, scientists, other outcasts, it isn't easy to run a planet you know. Farmers are wonderful, but you need other people."

"What king gave the planet to his wife?" asked Julie.

"Well," hesitated the Cardinal, "we might have stretched the truth on that one just a little bit."

"I knew it," stated the Captain triumphantly, "he gave it to his mistress instead, didn't he? Those old time kings always had a mistress!"

"Well, not exactly," replied the Cardinal, "you see, we submitted a letter from the proper time period and it was a letter from a king, but it just wasn't concerning this planet."

"I don't understand," stated Julie, "if that isn't what the letter was about, how did you fool the government scholars?"

"You see, the government scholars were also the Vatican scholars," replied the Cardinal. "The only scholars who could interpret a document that old were people who worked in the Vatican or with the Vatican because we're usually the only people interested in stuff that old. Basically, our scholars confirmed our document and the government was none the wiser."

"But what did the document actually say?" asked Nicole.

"As near as we can tell, the king sent it to his cousin as a joke. It appears to be the world's oldest limerick," stated the Cardinal. "It goes something like this;

There once was a girl named Padoo-WA,

who had a mouth like a Sue-WA,

no one cared what she said,

cause she was all hell in bed,

and became a very popular Who-WA."

The group sat, mouths agape, as Theresa burst through the door, wheeling a cart laden with steaming plates and dishes.

"So it is a poem about the Wa family?" asked Stanwich.

"No, Daddy," replied Nicole, as Theresa plopped a plate full of beef onto the table, "I'll explain it later..."

"So the government never figured out that you took the Amish away or that the African people moved instead of starved to death or that the planet you claim as your own is the result of a dirty limerick," recapped Gil.

"I made eggplant," stated Theresa, to no one in particular, shoving a huge silver platter onto the middle of the table. "Every time I eat eggplant, I get a rash all up and down my legs. I get itchy just handling it, but everyone likes my eggplant, so I made it."

"We appreciate that, Theresa," stated the Cardinal.

"I once got a boil, it was disgusting," continued Theresa, placing the last of the plates from the cart onto the table. "It wasn't from eggplant; it was from too much grease. I like to use grease to fry food, not the liquid kind; I like to melt my own..."

"Thank you, Theresa," interrupted the Cardinal, "we'll call you when we need you."

"Oh," snapped Theresa, "fine. I'll just sit inside and wait for your majesty's call." Adjusting the plates on the table with an angry shove, she grabbed the cart and slammed it through the door leading to the kitchen with enough power to loosen the hinges.

"If he offers dessert, don't take any," whispered the Captain to Nicole, "I'm telling you, she's going to spit in our food."

"I suppose we should get down to business," stated the Cardinal as everyone began eating. "What did Galbard offer you for his release?"

"Two million golds," stated the Captain firmly.

"Excuse me," interrupted Gil, "but you still have not explained your relationship to the pirates. I understand that you had to use them to get the Amish here, fine, but how do you explain your continued association with them?"

Cardinal Benny shrugged, "We need things. You have to understand that we are trying to sustain millions of people here and we do not have access to normal shipments of anything. We have to have regular shipments and the pirates are the only people we can ask to transport things for us who can guarantee that our secrets will remain safe. If they were ever captured and told the government what they were doing, they wouldn't be believed and we have made it in their best interests not to tell. They now have a safe haven, a union, benefits, even vacation time..."

"That's ridiculous," laughed Julie. "How could you unionize pirates? Do they go on strike?"

"They could," replied the Cardinal, "and if they did, we would be in a fine mess. You see, we need certain technology, building materials, but most important, planetary defense machinery. We need to know who is approaching and what their intentions are, it isn't easy hiding millions of people, even on an entire planet."

"They steal machinery for you?" Nicole asked. "I don't mean to be disrespectful, but if they are stealing machinery for you, where would they get two million golds to pay us off with?"

"You're asking a lot here," stated the Cardinal, leaning back in his chair and taking in the group thoughtfully. "You have to understand that if I tell you everything, you'll be involved, there will be no turning back. Right now if you leave and repeat what I've told you, people will just think you're crazy, but you're asking about nuts and bolts, day to day operations stuff. I can't let that info go without some assurances on your part. Unfortunately, the only true assurance I could accept is for you to stay here and join us."

Julie and Gil exchanged nervous glances. They had not come here to change their whole lives and this definitely sounded like such a proposition.

"What if we can't give you that assurance?"

"I just gave you the background of what happened to make this planet a necessity," stated Cardinal Benny seriously, "but if we go further, you're going to have to join us. Up till this point, I could trust you to go back to your lives and forget all about this like it never happened, but the more I tell you, the less I can be certain that you will just go back and forget about us. In good conscience and to protect the people I am bound to protect, I would have to ask you to stay. This isn't all about the pirates, they're part of it, but I have other people to think of here. I mean, I don't want you to be prisoners or anything like that, but if I go further, each of you would have to become one of us."

The group remained silent for a moment.

"Maybe we should just release them," stated Gil quietly, "and get out of here before we get in too deep."

"I disagree!" snapped the Captain suddenly.

"Dad, what do you mean?" asked Nicole.

The Captain stared at her, a strange, visionary light in his eyes, "Why should we go back? Go back to what? Even if we take their money, the authorities are going to want answers about what happened. We won't be able to spend the money; they'll be watching our every move! And if we don't take the money what are our prospects? The cruise line won't listen to our idea, we've been fired from our jobs and without another idea we can't pay off the ship! We're back to starving again or mooching off of Gil and Julie until they're starving too!"

Looking at Nicole with a paternal tenderness, he continued, "I want the best for you and being the daughter of an unemployed garbage captain won't do! I'll talk it over with the men, but none of them have anything to go back to either, we could make a new life here. Oh yes, it would be dangerous and a catch as catch can type of existence, but we wouldn't starve! We'd make our own way! We could have dental coverage!"

Nicole looked at her father doubtfully, "You're assuming a lot, Dad. They may not let you be a pirate; you might not be able to get into the union..."

"This is crazy," interrupted Gil. "We can't become pirates! We are respectable people..."

"I hate to interrupt, but I've been called "respectable" myself," stated the Cardinal. "Being a pirate has nothing to do with respectability; many of the people on that ship you captured found themselves with their backs to the wall just like the captain here. The whole planet is filled with people who, through no fault of their own, had little choice but to come here. We're kinda like the Island of Misfit Toys without the sappy music. We were all respectable people, admittedly to varying degrees, but a lot of us were just minding their own business when the powers that be made us expendable. Life, my friends, is funny. One day you're sitting pretty, the next day, you're unemployed and the government is giving you pamphlets on how not to starve."

Gil looked down guiltily, were some of his former clients here on Zooks?

Turning to Stanwich, the Cardinal continued, "As to being allowed to join the union, you have the two main ingredients, a ship and the desire. The rest is just paperwork, some training, blood tests and a background check."

"You do background checks for pirates?" asked Julie.

The Cardinal looked at her haughtily, "We provide dental and vision coverage."

Gil was sure everyone could hear his tubing gasping to remain intact as he took the floor, "This is insane. Captain, you can't make your daughter an outlaw because it is easier than facing what awaits us with the authorities. As for Julie and I, we only have the week off, after that, I have to get back to my desk. It may not be a wonderful job, but it is what I do and I can't just stop doing it to become a pirate!"

"We could always use accountants here," interrupted the Cardinal, "there's a real shortage of them."

"For the last time, I am not an accountant! I am an associate redundancy creator!" snapped Gil. Exasperated, he turned to Julie, "Why does everyone think I'm an accountant?"

"Perhaps you smell like pencils," mused Stanwich. "Mind you, I've never noticed that scent on you, but accountants always smell like pencils. Whenever I sharpen a pencil, I think, did I pay my taxes last year?"

The door to the kitchen sudden slammed into the room followed by a cart veering off in every direction, heavily burdened with cakes and pies, being pushed by the angry Theresa.

"I've got to get to the hairdressers before she closes so I'm bringing in your dessert now. I can't wait all day for you to ring. I don't care it's an important meeting," rambled Theresa, totally ignoring the group as the cart's loopy front wheel caused it to skip about the room like a lap dog greeting company, "I have things to do and I can't spend all day off schedule because you have some people over. Help yourselves to dessert when you're done and leave the dishes on the table. No one takes them to the sink, big bunch of babies, they're afraid the sink will bite them if they bring their dishes to it. Never work for the Church, that's what I tell everyone, they appreciate nothing! 'Oh, thank you so much Theresa for taking care of that, we're sorry, we can't give you a raise, the Church has no money,' but they have money for pirates to take vacations! That, they have money for! I've been begging for a new cart or at least for them to fix the wheel on this old one, do they do it? No! There's never any money, but for the piiirates..."

"That will be all, Theresa," replied the Cardinal tersely. "We are having a discussion now that has nothing to do with your hairdresser, your cart or your time table. I'll bring the dishes to the sink when we're done, thank you."

Theresa mustered her dignity and with a haughty air gave the cart one last kick and then retreated into the kitchen, the door swinging squeakily behind her.

"One way or the other, if you want to know more," sighed the Cardinal, "I'm going to need some guarantees..."

***

The statuesque, green eyed brunette wrapped her arms around her lover's waist and stared into his eyes. Passion smoldered with each word she spoke, "I've never had a better lover than you, Raphael, never. No one has ever made me feel the way you do, not Alex or Herbert or Jake or Walter, not Phil or Rex or David or Sal or Eddie or his brother John or Thomas or William or Fred or Jim or Aldo or Francis or Ernie or Sly or Victor or Max or Lewis or Paul or Harry..."

Raphael looked down sheepishly, "But what about your husbands?"

The brunette laughed harshly, "What about them? None of them were capable of making a woman feel the way you do, of loving a woman the way only you can. Not Vincent or Franco or Ned, not Eric or Sonny or Jose or Alfred or Matthew or Charles or Vespian or Johan or Jerod, none of them!"

Raphael's dark eyes burned with quiet intensity, "You didn't say Rico!"

The brunette's eyes darted away quickly and then back to his, searching, "Yes, I did, I said Rico after..."

"You didn't say Rico!" he shouted, grabbing his pants off the bed as he stormed out of the room.

Yeoman Xiang, staring at the television set, stretched herself out further on the couch and slowly looked over at Captain Galbard sprawled out in his easy chair nearby. "She was married to Rico?"

"Everyone on this show has been married to Rico at one time or another," replied Galbard quietly. "I didn't know she'd been married to Vespian."

"That was when she was a teenager; she had been kidnapped by the Zulu princess and sold to the man who owned the car dealership...."

"Is she the one who had the baby?"

"She lost it when she slipped into the coma after Vespian found out he wasn't the father and she fell down the stairs, remember?" The look on his face showed her clearly that he did not recall. "Remember, she said Vespian pushed her down the stairs and he didn't? They argued at the top of the stairs and when he turned to walk away, Raphael stepped out and pushed her down the stairs..."

"Why did Raphael push her down the stairs?" asked Galbard, "I don't remember that..."

"Raphael pushed her down the stairs to show how much he loved her," replied Xiang in exasperation.

"OHHHHH," replied Galbard, his memory supplying the needed information finally, "I remember now. That was when Gillian had the triplets."

"Riiight," smiled Xiang, "just before they blew up Jim with the car bomb to keep him from telling everyone about Melissa's infidelity."

Galbard's forehead scrunched down to his eyebrows, "Which one is Melissa?"

"The cross eyed blonde that lives next to Sebastian," cooed Xiang.

"I thought that was Melanie," replied Galbard.

"No, Melanie is her twin sister, the militant lesbian pianist, they're both Chloe's daughter. She was convicted of poisoning Juan Haldido last season, remember? They needed to get her off the show because she went prime time, she's now the star of that show where she plays the mother of 19 children, "Too Tired to Care"..."

A knock at the door ended the conversation.

"Come in," called out Galbard.

Tardy entered, shielding his eyes. "Are you two dressed?"

Xiang and Galbard exchanged a glance, "Unfortunately."

Tardy removed his hand from his eyes with a disapproving frown. "I never know what part of the human anatomy I'll learn about when I come in here." His frown deepened as he looked at the television set. "Please don't tell me that you're watching soap operas at a time like this!"

Galbard rose and stretched, "Why not, Skip? I'm sure the ship will be repaired soon and I'm certain the Big Man will talk them out of handing us over to the authorities. The end is in sight!"

Tardy shook his head knowingly, "The ship is a mess. We've finally been able to do a check of the outer hull and do you know what we've found? We're not space worthy anymore. How we didn't explode is a miracle. The Constellation needs massive retooling."

"What?" Galbard looked stricken. "How can that be? The engines have always been suspect but the hull..."

"You can't let a ship receive a hundred and eighty seven direct hits and think that nothing is going to happen to it," replied Tardy. "It's either a massive repair job or go out and get a new ship. Repairs to the hull alone will take at least 8 months, depending upon what we find under the damaged areas and you can forget about the engines, we need completely new ones..."

"We can't wait 8 months to fly again," moaned Galbard, falling back into his chair, hands on his head. "And don't even think about getting a smaller ship. I won't go back to those smaller ships, Skip; you can't go back to commanding a crew of 20 when you've had a crew of 300 at your beck and call. No sir, the other captains will laugh at me! Besides, it took years to get this crew into shape..." Xiang interrupted by clearing her throat and pouting prettily. "Oh, no, you were always in shape and most accommodating, no complaints there!" Xiang smiled and went back to viewing the television. "What are we going to do, Tardy? What can we do?"

Tardy shrugged, "We could steal another ship, but there are some inherent problems in that idea."

"I think it is a wonderful idea!" snapped Galbard.

"We need to steal a ship this size," Tardy continued, "which means we have to get to somewhere where there IS a ship this size, which we can't do because our ship can't fly."

"Oh," replied Galbard.

"Also, if you are going to take over a ship this size, you might find yourself fighting a crew this size, which would make things more than difficult if we couldn't take a crew this size with us."

"The captain could fight ten men at a time," smiled Xiang.

"Fine," replied Tardy smoothly, "I'll just keep the other 290 occupied with a slide show or something until he can take on the next group of ten."

"I'm going to have to think about this," decided Galbard. "We need to talk it over with the Big Man and get some ideas on the subject."

"That would probably be best," stated Tardy.

"Very well," replied Galbard, "is there anything else?"

"Nothing I would burden you with at this time," replied Tardy. " So, if you'll excuse me..." Tardy let himself out.

Galbard looked at Xiang thoughtfully, "What did he mean he learns about another part of the human anatomy every time he comes in here?"

Xiang's smile became less sweet, "Come here, I'll show you."

Chapter 6

The gardens at the Cardinal's residence were enormous and filled with beautifully manicured shrubs and flowers of enormous variety and size.

Julie and Gil walked some distance ahead of the Cardinal, Nicky and the Captain. They needed to discuss the Cardinal's offer privately, exchanging the frank and important information that couples do whenever they make a major, life changing decision.

Behind them, Stanwich spoke with the Cardinal in an intense, serious tone.

"You have to understand, your Eminence, that it was a revelation to me. I would never have thought it possible, I was shocked!"

The Cardinal nodded sagely as he listened, "You must accept the fact, my son, that others do not always see what you see, that God grants us eyes, but what we see with them is not always what He shows us."

"But you can understand my being upset," replied Stanwich, his voice filled with emotion. "A lion's head just doesn't fit on a rabbit's body."

"It does not make the man a bad man," countered the Cardinal, "he just sees things differently than you do."

"What do you think they are talking about?" interrupted Nicole, anxiously watching Gil and Julie as they took a seat on a bench in the middle of the garden.

"They are talking about life," ventured the Cardinal. "I'm afraid this place of ours has thrown quite a curve into their way of thinking. They are people of principles and faith and their beliefs have been challenged. There is nothing more difficult to overcome than your preconceived knowledge."

"I hope they stay," stated Nicole. "For us, the choice is pretty easy, what is the point of going back? All that we have is starvation and payments to miss, but Gil and Julie have a nice little apartment and he has a regular job... it can't be easy for them."

"They should flip a coin," stated the Captain suddenly. "It's what your mother and I used to do. 'Jerod', she'd say, 'We need to make a decision!' and I'd go and get the coin and that was that."

The Cardinal looked at the Captain and then smiled at Nicole, "Thankfully, these things usually skip a generation. Are you hoping to have children someday?"

Nicole blushed and nodded demurely.

"I'll pray for them," replied the Cardinal. "Boy, will I pray for them..."

***

"This is crazy," stated Gil quietly. "We can't even really be considering this can we? I'll get a pension in 35 more years, we already have dental..."

Julie grabbed his hands in her own and looked at him, unsure of what to say. "I have only one problem," she began, "I won't be able to forget this place. I can't run back home and act like this never happened. This place exists Gil, and if this place exists, than everything that we believe about how the world works is thrown into question. I know that the government makes excuses, I know that they exaggerate, I know that they make things up, I'm even sure that they out and out lie at times, but I've never considered myself ignorant, I read Ladies Home Journal, but this, I never expect things to be like this..."

"I can't believe that the Church of all people is asking us to release pirates! I can't believe that they aren't insisting we take them right to the authorities..."

"I took the Cosmo quiz a few weeks back and I scored an 87, I mean, I'm not living with my head in the sand..."

"How could they say that they ended starvation and then not do it? I mean it is not like you could be mistaken about it? Talk about an easy to fill out form, "Are you currently eating, check yes or no"! It was not something they should have lied about..."

"I watch "Jeopardy"; I always get final "Jeopardy", unless it is a geographical question. Still, that hardly means you're not paying attention to the world, does it? Who cares who boarders Uzbekistan to the northeast anyway, I mean, we are all supposed to be neighbors now, aren't we? One big happy global village, I thought that was what the whole point of it was..."

"How could you not miss a million and a half Amish? How does that little fact get passed you? Worse yet, how can you not notice three million African black people, yes, I said black people, suddenly turning up at your door and not figure out that they aren't the one and a half million Amish white people you were trying to integrate? We have a word for that in my department and it's sloppy, just plain sloppy..."

"I do the crossword. Okay, I cheat sometimes, but everyone cheats on the crossword once in a while. Who knows a seven letter word of Greek origin that is the root for both the word "dog" and the phrase "A place of many chickens"? It's not like you can just pull that out of your hat..."

The two grew quiet, lost in their own thoughts. Finally, they looked at each other for a moment with tender regard.

"I don't know what to believe anymore," stated Gil quietly. "Has my whole existence been a farce? I mean, are people making fun of me right in front of me and I've never noticed?"

Julie squeezed his hands, "Gil, you and I aren't a farce. I love you and you love me and that's all that matters. Maybe we aren't as knowledgeable as we thought we were, but it doesn't mean that we've wasted our lives. We can learn the truth and live with it."

Gil gave a searching glance around the garden, "But if we learn the truth, we have to stay here, there is no unlearning it. We are making an enormous decision, Julie. It means leaving my job, giving up everything. Do we want to do that just to learn the truth? We just got the cooking channel..."

"The truth is more important than cable programming, Gil, it's even more important than new shoes at discount prices." He looked at her quizzically, "They just opened a Paymuchless Shoe store in the mall." Her eyes teared up, but she spoke bravely, "I never went to it, but I'm willing to give it up to learn the truth."

"What about our furniture?" asked Gil. "If we have to live here, I mean I want our bed and our things..."

"My mother's china," gasped Julie, "I can't give up my mother's china, Gil. It was a wedding present!"

Gil looked longingly out at the Cardinal, the Captain and Nicole, walking at a distance in the garden, "How I wish I could just give it all up like they did. I know they don't have much, but how quickly they just let it all go to learn the truth."

***

"I don't think you can put a rabbit's head on a cheese wheel," countered the Cardinal. "It's one thing to mix animals, but when you start mixing animals and dairy products, you've left the world of the cute and entered into the world of the weird."

"I'm talking a living cheese," countered the Captain, "one with working parts."

"Dad, how can a cheese have working parts," asked Nicole, "it's a cheese."

"I saw a cartoon once..."

"Hold on, now. Now you're talking animation," interrupted the Cardinal, "which for the sake of our discussion, I do not think is fair, all bets are off. Are these "real" imaginary animals we're talking about or "fake" imaginary animals? There has to be some sort of boundaries here."

"What do you think they're talking about?" interrupted Nicole, looking out into the garden at Gil and Julie. "Do you think they'll stay? I hope they stay."

The Cardinal looked out over the garden towards them, "It can't be easy for them. They have a life to go back to, they have people and possessions. It isn't easy to give up everything for the truth."

"It would be so much better here if they did," replied Nicole quietly. "Julie is wonderful and Gil is so smart." Turning to the Cardinal she continued, "You should speak to them; they would be such an asset to you and to everyone."

"If they stayed and opened a sandwich shop, this would be the best planet ever," stated the Captain with conviction.

"I'll see what I can do," countered the Cardinal, absolutely sure that thanks to Galbard and his crew, he was currently hosting an escaped group from the looney bin. "I'll do what I can, but a person has to want to know the truth, you can't force it on them."

"There's hope they will be open to the truth," stated the Captain, a visionary gleam in his eye. "After all, I don't think either one has ever worked for the public school system."

***

"Very well," stated Gill, swallowing hard. "We'll stay and learn the truth, but only if we can go back for our furniture."

Julie nodded. It was a big decision and she should not be expected to give up her gravy boat along with her perception of the world. "If they will agree to let us go back and pack up a few things, well, then I want to know it all."

Gil glanced back and saw the Cardinal making his way towards them. "I'll let him know our terms," stated Gil. "Are you sure, my love?"

Julie smiled, "What are we losing really? Our parents are gone and we are all the family that we have. You were never really happy at your job and this is a beautiful place. We could get another little apartment, we never needed much."

"How am I going to support us?" asked Gil suddenly. "I can't farm and I just can't see myself as a pirate..."

"Perhaps you could be a pirate in some sort of executive capacity," countered Julie hopefully. "I mean, someone has to count the money and I do not think that there is anyone in the group we've met so far who could get up to twenty without removing their shoes and socks and counting on their toes. You've always been good with figures..."

"A pirate accountant?" mused Gil. "All of my life people have thought I was an accountant and now you think that I should become one."

"Yes, but you'd be a "pirate" accountant. You have to admit it sounds much more exciting than a regular accountant. It is not like you would be locked in an office all day. You would have to go down to the ship and count the loot and try to figure out what everything was worth. Really, Gil, I doubt just anyone could do it."

"So," interrupted the Cardinal, drawing closer and taking a seat on the bench next to them, "are you staying with us, or are you gonna take the money and run?"

Gil and Julie exchanged a nervous glance. "We have some conditions," replied Julie, nudging Gil to take the lead.

"We have things that we'd like to go back for," stated Gil quietly. "We had a life before any of this started and while, to some, that life might have not meant much, it holds memories of wonderful times for us."

"I have my mother's china to think about," stated Julie. "Surely we don't have to give up my mother's china to know the truth."

"Another thing we want to know is what will we do here? How will we survive?" asked Gil. "I promised to take care of my Julie when we wed. You can't expect people to just give up everything."

The Cardinal laughed, "Yeah, I can. You see, giving up everything to find out the truth is sort of what I tell people they need to do. Once again, it's my line of work, but tell you what; we'll try to get back your china and stuff. I can't make a guarantee because I am not going to risk people for things, that definitely isn't how we operate, but if the opportunity presents itself, we will take it." Gil and Julie sat, saying nothing, trying to remain non committal. The Cardinal continued, "Also, I can't say how you'll fit in to the scheme of things around here. I mean, you may work for me in the Chancellery or you may decide to work in something else. The Captain over there, he told me about your plan to save his hide and I can tell you're a pretty brainy guy, so I wouldn't worry too much. Besides, no one starves here, we don't allow it. It was the reason we started this whole place to begin with. You won't get rich, but you'll never starve and eventually, you will find your place here. For the time being, if you'd like, you could live in the cottage on the edge of the garden. It's not too far from where you're sitting, the Amish built it for an older couple who passed away a few years ago, but it's still in good shape, nothing fancy, but well built and clean, nice. We'll have to upgrade the plumbing and get you some electricity, that'll take a couple of days, but I think you'd like it."

Gil felt his tubing relax, they would not starve and he would find a way to support them. He was not sure he would want to work for the Church, he kept hearing Theresa's warning ringing in his ears, but he would find a way to support them and with Julie by his side, anything was possible. And what was he really giving up anyway? He never really liked his job, it just provided for them and gave them security and a future and...maybe he was being hasty. Maybe he was giving up too much and for what?

What if the Cardinal had told him all there was to tell and there was nothing more? Why couldn't they trust Julie and him to be quiet about this place? They could return to their normal lives, they didn't have to give up everything.

"I don't know," he suddenly blurted out. "I don't know if I can do this!"

Julie grabbed his hands, "It is alright, Gil. We will be okay."

"We're giving up everything!" He felt his tubing strain again. 'You must be mad, Gil, you must be mad...'

"You're giving up nothing at all," stated the Cardinal, "but you'll never know that until you give up everything."

Gil considered it a moment, "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

"Perhaps," replied the Cardinal with a smile, "but if you believe it, it's brilliant."

"I believe it," stated Julie, with quiet conviction. "Gil does too. He's just worried about me, I know he is, but we'll be fine. We'll get our furniture and we'll be fine."

"Well, Gil?" asked the Cardinal.

Gil looked to Julie, "Are you sure?"

Julie nodded.

"Very well, tell us everything."

***

Nicole and the Captain entered the ship and were greeted by the rest of the crew.

"What happened?" asked Panther.

"We will release them," stated the Captain.

"Two million golds!!!" cried Mad Matt. The other members of the crew began to laugh and yell as well.

"No," stated the Captain, "we aren't getting the golds."

The men grew quiet, first looking shocked, then disappointed, but saying nothing.

"They've asked us to stay."

The Captain's statement took a moment to sink in.

"Stay here?" asked Panther. "I don't get it."

"Why would they want us to stay here?" asked Mad Matt.

Stanwich's smile perplexed them, "Boys, all our lives we've hauled garbage and we did a good job. Now we're being asked to do something even more important. It could be dangerous work with long hours. We could have many adventures, triumphs and tragedies. Do you understand what I'm asking you?"

"They want us to become cabdrivers?" asked Mad Matt.

"No," stated Panther scornfully, "how could we be cabdrivers, we don't even have accents!"

"They want us to become pirates!" announced Stanwich.

The men stood, eyes widening.

"Pirates?" gasped Mad Matt. "That would make us famous!"

"We'd make great pirates," shouted Panther. "Listen to my arrrrrrrr! I've practiced it since I was little, but I never thought I'd get paid to use it!"

"You practiced saying R since you were little?" asked Nicole.

Everyone looked at Panther, who shrunk a little under their gazes, "Like you people don't practice things when you're alone."

The other men shrank to the same size.

"Never mind," stated Nicole. "Dad can't make this decision for you, each of you need to think this one out for yourselves. If you want to know the whole truth and become pirates, join us. If not, the Cardinal will see that you get back home, no questions asked."

"I can't become a pirate," stated Chester. "I have a reputation to consider."

"No you don't, Chester," stated Stanwich. "Besides the people in this room, no one else really knows that you even exist. You have no family except us; you have no friends except us. Amongst whom do you have a reputation?"

Chester thought it over. "Will we have to kill people? I don't want to hurt anyone and besides, stealing is wrong."

"Technically, we won't be stealing," stated the Captain, "we will be transporting and providing for our fellow Zooksians. Also, we'll make a point of not hurting anyone, unless we have to, at which point we will, but we won't."

"Sounds pretty well thought out," mused Mad Matt. "I've considered all the options and I'm in. I have nothing to go back to, so why not. As far as hurting people, I could live with it; actually, I'd probably prefer it. Oh heck, I'd enjoy it, let's be honest about it, I'd love it! Besides, we're a well oiled machine and you don't mess with a winning combination like we've got!"

"Good point," Panther stated. "Okay I'm in too, as long as they've got some black people on this planet. Some day I'm gonna want to settle down and I can't do that Amish look."

"We'll find out about the black people," replied Stanwich. "If they don't have any perhaps we could import some of the starving African people who act Amish but really aren't. I hope you like skinny women..."

Nicole rolled her eyes.

"I'm in too," stated Don. "Panther is right and so is Mad Matt, not about the hurting people thing, though I'm sure no one is surprised by the fact that he said that, but about us being a team."

"Wait a minute," Chester said suddenly. "What about Gil and Julie? They are our partners; we have to have their input into this decision, don't we?"

The Captain grimaced, "We're not sure. The Cardinal is trying to talk them into becoming pirates too, but they're having a harder time with it than we did."

"Gil would be good to have around," Mad Matt stated, "he's smart. And Julie's smart and makes good sandwiches."

"We need smart people around here, Captain," stated Panther. "Perhaps if they decide not to stay, we could kidnap them along with some black people. Pirates kidnap people you know..."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," the Captain countered, "we're not in the union yet."

Chester's eyes grew wide, "A union? How do you join the union? Will there be a test? I don't do well on tests. I once took the postal exam."

"Did you fail?" asked Nicole.

"No," replied Chester, "I passed. They made me a postal inspector. It was the worst seventeen years of my life. All the noise from the machines and complaints from the customers and the shootings, shootings, shootings..."

"Then why did you stay?" asked Mad Matt.

"I passed the test," replied Chester. "If you pass the test, you have to stay, don't you?"

"It seems the polite thing to do," agreed Stanwich. "As far as I know, we have to have references, I'm not sure about tests, but if we put our heads together, we can pass any test!"

"Makes sense," said Panther. "Besides, they have dental."

"Who is going to refer us?" asked Mad Matt.

"How about those people in the hold," suggested Panther. "We captured them without firing a shot, that has to prove something!"

"Good point," agreed Stanwich. "We'll invite them out for a meeting. We'll tell them we'll let them go if they refer us to become pirates!"

"Dad, you can't do that, that's coercion," stated Nicole.

The others looked at Stanwich questioningly. "I don't know what it means either, we'll look it up at another time, right now we need to speak to the people in the hold. Panther, go get the mazer, Mad Matt, go get the donuts."

***

"So the government lied about ending the Arab-Israeli conflict."

"Technically, no," replied the Cardinal, "It did end; they just weren't the ones responsible for ending it."

"The Church ended it?" asked Gil.

"There were a lot of people involved. I personally had nothing to do with the negotiations, but some of my friends were involved and later on, as the Pope's "man in space" I worked out a lot of the details. You see, the biggest problem in the whole thing was space, you had two groups that couldn't stand each other living on top of each other, what they needed was space. Now there are two planets not too far from here that are just as nice as Zooks. If you read the bible, the whole Old Testament is about "The Land". If only they could get to the Promised Land, all would be okay. So we sat down and offered both sides a land deal, if they would agree to leave the area and stop fighting, we'd give them each a planet, to do with what they wish. There were other specifications too, it wasn't that easy, but eventually, we came up with a system that works for everyone and everyone is happy."

"So there are an entire planet of Jewish people and an entire planet of Muslims?" questioned Julie.

"Right. Each person has the right to return to their respective area on earth ever three years for a vacation and to visit their holy places. Otherwise, they stay on their planets and stay away from each other."

"Is the government aware of any of this?" asked Gil.

"No," responded the Cardinal, "they think that their planetary togetherness plan, "Let's be Pals", is the reason for the general quiet."

"So if the people who originally lived there aren't there," asked Julie, "who lives there?"

"Well, neither side wanted the Christians to come in; they didn't think it was fair, so we negotiated to move a different group in. They take care of the holy sites and keep the area up and it works out well because they're a neutral group acceptable to both sides."

"Who?" asked Gil.

"The Tibetans," the Cardinal responded.

"So the Tibetans now live in the Holy Land?" asked Julie.

"The Chinese just wouldn't budge on the whole "Free Tibet" thing, so we moved the Tibetans to the Holy Land. They love it, the mountains there are like foothills to them and their so good with pack animals..."

"So all of the Muslims went to where? What planet?" asked Julie.

"We had a really nice planet that we purchased from the phone company..."

"The phone company owned a planet?" interrupted Gil.

"Yeah, one of their satellites accidentally landed there and when they sent a crew to pick it up, they realized it was a beautiful place. Having worked for the phone company prior to my calling, I can attest to the fact that they have no use for a beautiful place, so they sold it to us, gave us a good deal too, we even got free long distance, so it worked out nice. Anyway, we sold the place to a Muslim conglomerate and now everyone is happy."

"What is the name of it?" asked Julie.

"Well the militants wanted to call it Jupiter Jihad and the more moderate members wanted to call it Mecca Moon, but they ended up with Allah's Acres."

"Allah's Acres?" asked Gil.

"It translates something like that, it's what the pilots call it."

"And what about the Jewish planet?" asked Julie.

"Great bagels," stated the Cardinal, "and if you're ever there, go to the comedy clubs, there are none better. I'm telling you, it's a great place if you need a laugh or if you catch a cold and need some really good chicken soup. I highly recommend it."

"No, what is the name of it?"

"Well the Orthodox wanted to call it something in Hebrew that translated to Holy Israel and the Conservatives wanted to call it something in Yiddish that translated to David's Kingdom, but they finally compromised on something they felt was truly representative of all of the different sects of Judaism."

"What?"

"Boca."

"Boca?" asked Gil. "They named the planet Boca?"

"They felt Miami was too pretentious," replied the Cardinal.

For Gil and Julie it was a lot to absorb.

"Perhaps we could move on to some moral issues," stated Gil. "I mean, how can the Church allow pirates to steal from people?"

"The Knights of Columbus," replied the Cardinal.

"Huh?"

"The Knights of Columbus," repeated the Cardinal reasonably, "they're one of the largest insurance carriers in the world. Ever since they got into property insurance we've been on good grounds morally."

"I'm sorry," interrupted Julie, "I don't follow."

The Cardinal sighed, Stanwich had been much easier to tell the truth too, there was little need to repeat anything or explain anything. Actually, after he told him that he would be allowed to join the union, he doubted anything else had even gotten through. He continued, "What I'm about to tell you goes no further than this room."

"It's a garden," Julie reminded him.

"Fine, no further than us three then," answered the Cardinal. "We take out insurance through the Knights of Columbus on the ships that we send the pirates to attack, the pirates don't know that, but we do it because stealing is wrong. When the pirates steal the ships cargo, the insurance pays off the companies and we pay back the Knights through higher premiums. It's a bit convoluted I'll admit, but being morally right isn't always easy."

"So you have the pirates steal from you," stated Julie.

"Right. You see, we keep the pirates as pirates because, let's face it, they're not going to go to night school to become brain surgeons, and they don't hurt anyone because it's all our people who know not to get in their way and to let them have anything they want. They don't realize that they are glorified delivery people, they stay away from the general populace which makes the general populace happy and no one loses anything because it's all insured."

"What about the Knights of Columbus, I mean don't they suspect anything?" asked Gil.

"Well, we had to let some of their people in on the secret, but their all good Catholics so they're just happy to help out."

"Wait a minute though," interrupted Julie, "what about the pirates? Shouldn't you be trying to convert them or something? It isn't right just to let them go on thinking they're doing wrong and getting away with it."

"You have to understand that we've had to take the gradual approach with most of the pirates," smiled the Cardinal. "If you, who are educated, "normal" people have a hard time accepting the truth, then think of our friends who are less educated and far from normal. We educate their children, we talk to the pirates, teach them table manners and in some instances, ever so often, some of them get the point. There are exceptions, of course. You guys met Mr. Tardy, the first mate on the Constellation, right?"

They nodded.

"He knows the whole deal, which is good, because he helps keep that crew on the straight and narrow."

"What about Captain Galbard?" asked Julie.

"He's special," replied the Cardinal. "Nice man, but special. Trust me, he isn't ready yet, but I honestly think with Tardy's influence and our working with him and if we can keep his mind off of Yeoman Xiang for a few minutes, he should be ready for the truth in 40 or 50 years."

Julie looked to Gil, "We must be mad."

"Believe me; I was thinking the same thing."

***

Once again the cafeteria aboard the Aurora was set to host another important meeting. Galbard and Tardy, in their full pirate regalia despite Tardy's protests, sat across from Captain Stanwich and Nicky, with Panther standing at the end of the long table, mazer in hand.

It was to the Stanwich's credit that he realized that he should have some sensible person with him to negotiate with the pirates, but since Gil and Julie were still in the garden with Cardinal Benny, the only sensible person to be had was Nicole. He had thought that perhaps he should not ask her to join them, vaguely remembering Julie saying something about limiting her exposure to pirates, but then Mad Matt had asked what kind of donuts he wanted on the table and the thought escaped his mind. By the time it returned, Captain Galbard was sitting across from him eyeing his second donut.

"So you want to become pirates now," stated Tardy, praying Galbard would not use the word "yummy" again.

"It seems to be the best solution to things," replied Stanwich. "If we join you, you don't go to jail and we don't have to explain things to the authorities."

"Being a pirate is a vocation," stated Galbard sagely, "like being a minister or a spokesperson on an infomercial. It isn't something just anyone can do."

"We're willing to take classes," replied Stanwich, "or run an obstacle course, whatever it takes."

"What about your daughter?" asked Tardy, giving Nicole the briefest of smiles. "Would she become a pirate also?"

"Certainly not," snapped the Captain. "What type of father do you think I am? No, I want better for her. She would be covered under my medical though, wouldn't she?"

"Not if she's over twenty one," replied Galbard, "unless, of course, she's a student."

"Don't worry about my medical, Dad," said Nicole quietly. "You have to think about you and the crew."

"That's very thoughtful of you," said Tardy.

Nicole blushed slightly as Stanwich continued, "My daughter would not be a pirate, however she's the one who keeps the books, so I would expect her to do the same for us here as well."

"Well, if she is your bookkeeper, she'd get her own benefits," stated Galbard, "but she'd be part of a different union. You see, you would be local 180, the U.P.T. and H, while she would be part of local 222, the B.A.B. and P. We play softball against them every year at the annual union picnic."

"What does U.P.T. and H stand for?" asked Stanwich.

"United Pirates, Thieves and Hairdressers," replied Tardy.

"And the B.A.B. and P?" asked Nicole.

"Bookkeepers, Accountants, Bankers and Pretzel Makers," replied Galbard.

"I must warn you," stated Tardy to Nicole, "we usually win the softball game, though most of the book keepers are a lot older and less fit than you are."

"You'd better watch out, I play a pretty mean center field," smiled Nicole.

"I play center field too," stated Tardy, perhaps a little too quickly.

"I play first base, but I hate it," intruded Galbard. "You have to pay attention to every play, it is exhausting."

"I don't play softball," stated Panther. They all turned to look at him. "What, I'm black so I should be into sports? What's next, I should like basketball?"

"You do like basketball," stated Stanwich.

"Not the point," replied Panther.

"Perhaps we should get back to the whole "becoming pirates" idea," stated Nicole tactfully.

"Yes, I think your daughter is right," stated Tardy. "I do not see any reason why you couldn't join us."

"It makes no sense for them to join us," stated Galbard sadly. "We have no ship, you see. The Constellation has fought its last fight, at least for a while. We could help you get into the union, but we couldn't allow you to be our apprentices, which you would have to be for a minimum of 1 year to get your union cards. We will have to find someone else for you to apprentice with. Do you think Caucasian Tim would be willing, Tardy?"

"Caucasian Tim?" asked Panther. "How white do you have to be to be called Caucasian Tim?"

"No," replied Tardy, "it's not a white issue in that sense. His name is Tim White, so his crew nicknamed him Caucasian Tim. It happens a lot with pirates, you get a stupid nickname and it sticks."

"You mean like Skip?" asked Stanwich.

Tardy raised an eyebrow, "Skip is my real name. I don't have a nickname."

"You mean Skip isn't a nickname?" asked Galbard. "You're parents actually named you Skip?"

"It was my grandfather's name," stated Tardy.

"Your great grandparents must not have liked children," muttered Galbard.

"I don't know if this Caucasian Tim is the man we'd want to work with," stated Stanwich, with a glance at Panther.

"Perhaps we could come to some other arrangement," offered Nicole.

"That would be wonderful," stated Tardy.

"Down boy," mumbled Galbard, "she didn't state the idea yet."

Tardy blushed dark red as Nicole continued, "What if some of you worked with Dad and the crew on the Aurora? You could train them on board our ship. Would that be okay with the union?"

"I don't see why not," replied Galbard. "We might even find a new ship. We could capture it like you did us! The Constellation will be flying again before you know it!"

"That was a wonderful idea," Tardy stated to Nicole.

Smiling sweetly she replied, "Why, thank you."

"Wait a minute," interrupted Stanwich, "before I can say anything definite, I have to get my partners okay on all of this."

"Your partners?" asked Galbard.

"Gil and Julie are our partners," stated Stanwich. "We need to run this by them before we agree to anything."

"Very well," stated Galbard. "Go and ask Gil and Julie. In the meantime, pass me that glazed donut."

Chapter 7

The recent actions of the pirates, their robbing, plundering and general carousing, had not gone unnoticed at the highest levels of the Interplanetary Government. In fact, from the highest levels to the lowest, the bureaucracy was a stir regarding the latest pirate atrocities.

In this highly charged atmosphere, a special meeting was convened at the Ministry of Defense and it included the Joint Chiefs, the Assistants to the Joint Chiefs, the Advisory Experts to the Joint Chiefs, the Data Clerks to the Joint Chiefs, the Lunchroom Attendants to the Joint Chiefs and His Excellency, the President.

It was decided at the highest levels that for security reasons, the meeting would be held at the top secret Doritos Memorial Bunker and Chip Hut, a high security complex located miles below the Defense Ministry's main building. After descending via the Zesty Zing elevator, one entered an enormous open room, capable of seating thousands. The walls were adorned with enormous screens, below which computers belched out important information about all sorts of things from all over the globe.

Standing at the center of it all stood the world's largest conference table sporting a "Personalized Nacho Plate" every four feet. The massive room contained not only its own battalion of interplanetary troops, but also boasted of having over 40,000 cup holders. On the walls above the massive screens, portraits of former Interplanetary Presidents looked down solemnly, interspaced with posters advertising various corn chips.

His Excellency, the President himself, sat grim faced at one end of the conference table, unsure if corporate sponsorship of a secret bunker had been the right move. Like all decisions, he had done what he had thought would be popular and when the cost had became known to the general public, they had enthusiastically supported his decision, but still, he was uneasy about the whole thing. Why did it bother him so? Perhaps it was because he was still under the delusion that the public actually believed the government's assertion that corporate sponsorship meant that they would have to pay less of the bill then if they had just built it themselves.

Glancing up at the portraits and posters hung above him on the walls, the President mused about his place in history. One day his portrait would be up there, right next to the tasty new corn and mint tortia festival pack poster. The weight of such an honor humbled a man somehow. What would the people who followed him say about him? There were ninety-odd posters of presidents up there and there might be three presidents about whom anyone ever spoke. Would he be number four or just another portrait of a dead guy?

The thought made him less humble and more aggravated. Still, being aggravated didn't make him any happier. Perhaps his sour mood was more a reflection of his dislike of the luncheon menu than any real understanding of his place in history, or of the crisis. More than likely his aggravation stemmed from the possibility that he, once again, would have to make a decision. The President had not become President to spend his time making decisions, but it seemed that at least once a month someone screwed up and he was called upon to do so. Somehow, despite not being a particularly clever man, he knew that his being asked to make decisions showed a tragic flaw in the way things were supposed to work. His re-election campaign had been based upon his promise that he would not interfere with the running of the government and now he felt that he was betraying the sacred trust of the people by being involved in the decision making process.

Though it was the worst part of the whole job, like the trooper that he was he resigned himself to putting his best foot forward and making a decision if it became absolutely unavoidable.

"Mr. President," began General Atchison, a thin, lifelong military man wearing a uniform hosting his body weight in medals, "I am sorry that we had to call this special session of the Joint Chiefs, but something has to be done about the present crisis."

Wild applause broke out for no reason and were quickly silenced by an annoyed wave of the President's hand.

"We believe that we have discovered the way that the pirates keep avoiding capture," continued the General. "If the testimony of the crew of the Gluttonous Indulgence can be trusted, and I believe, based upon their captain's foul language, that it can be, we should be able to engage and defeat the Constellation, capture her crew and end the threat to civilized people that their existence poses."

General Jacobs stumbled to his feet at the far end of the room, a chubby man with a baby face, sneering slightly just because he always did.

"Wait a minute General, I hate to interrupt, but just because we know what they're doing and how they're doing it, doesn't mean we know what to do to stop them from doing it. My analysis shows that though we know what we know, we may not know all we need to know or even how to respond to what we know."

"It's true," agreed Atchison, "knowledge, as we know, is not necessarily a good thing. But I do believe that we have a plan, based upon not only what we know, but upon what we think we know, and that the plan, if executed properly, will spell the defeat of the pirate horde."

"What is the plan?" asked the President, not because he was interested but feeling the need to appear involved.

"Well sir, without getting too involved, we want to capture and or kill the pirates."

The President mulled it over a moment. "I like the plan, but there are some flaws in it." The room seemed to lean forward to hear more clearly the cutting insight of their leader. "A plan is only as good as the man chosen to execute it. Who, general, do you have in mind to lead this plan?"

"I can think of only one man, Mr. President; Captain Kevin J. Fitzpatrick." The room was gripped by a sudden murmur, which quickly died down. "I know what you are thinking," continued the General, "but I can think of no other man who would stand a chance of executing such a complicated and dangerous mission."

"But he's a loose cannon," snapped General Jacobs. "The man was an Admiral until we court-martialed him. He takes the laws into his own hands."

An elderly General rose and waved about his cane, his gray hair cascading out from beneath his hat like an oriental fan, "Just a minute, just a minute. Just because a man made one mistake doesn't mean that he isn't the perfect man to lead a deadly and suicidal mission!"

"General Timmons is correct," stated General Atchison. "Let us be frank about this, Captain Fitzpatrick is a patriot. No one can doubt his love of country, his willingness to sacrifice for the common good. He has killed more people than anyone else in his quest to spread peace and democracy to all people. The general points out that he is a loose cannon, and the point is well taken. But on occasion, someone has to do the dirty work, and it's usually best done by someone with a personal knowledge of dirt!"

The room erupted into applause again.

"Very well," stated the President, "I say, do what you think is best and call me with the results if they are positive. If the results are not positive, let us not forget our sacred duty to blame the opposing party!"

Everyone stood and saluted as the president rose and ran away as fast as he could to the elevator. If luck was on his side, he could still be on the golf course by 10am.

***

"Will you accept the commission, Captain," bellowed General Atchison into the screen. There was, of course, nothing wrong with the audio transmission, he was just screaming because like many older people he had no faith that modern technology could work correctly.

The back of the chair pictured on the screen did not budge, a low voice replied. "If I take the commission, gentlemen, and that is a big if, capital I capital F, I will need unlimited power and resources placed at my finger tips!"

After conferring about the table, General Jacobs responded, "You have our permission to be unreasonable in your demands."

The chair on the screen swiveled around to face the group. A man of about 30 years of age, light brown hair, well built, stern expression with manic eyes, looked back at them. "I will require a fleet of seven hundred ships; I will give you the size and specifications within the hour. I will require 2 sanitation vessels identical to the one that we are stalking and a captain who speaks ancient Greek and a smattering of Hungarian. Finally, I will require some zoo animals and a catapult."

Atchison looked to Jacobs who gave a confident nod. "Very well, Captain, you will have it all."

"Very well, gentlemen, I'll take your job and may God have mercy on those pirates, because they'll get no mercy from me! Fitzpatrick, out."

"Godspeed, captain," replied Jacobs with emotion to the darkened screen, "Godspeed."

***

Vin Masterson sat across from Captain Fitzpatrick, out of the range of the viewer, eyeing his commander nervously. He had, for a time, been of the opinion that the captain was completely mad and as he had feared, it appeared that he alone was aware of the fact. Sitting on the bridge alone also reminded him that it would be a good thing to get a helmsman up here since the ship seemed to be drifting dangerously close to a nearby planet.

"Masterson," growled Fitzpatrick, "I'll be an admiral again once we catch these thieves, mark my words."

"Seven hundred ships, sir?" asked Masterson. "Isn't that rather a lot? I mean, you obviously have decided that you will not need the element of surprise..."

"Kill, Masterson. Kill. Men have been called upon to kill men since men have been men. Now, it's our turn, our turn to find our fellow man and kill him!"

"So capture is completely out of the question?"

"Who said that?" asked Fitzpatrick. "Of course, if we capture them, we then take them out and kill them, killing them is better. Perhaps we capture them, then kill them without saying we captured them, better still. No trial, you see, no questions. In a sense, it is more fitting; they lived by the sword and they'll die by the sword."

"Before we kill them or capture them, sir, we need to have a plan."

"Find them, kill them, that's the plan, Masterson. You don't need a plan when you already have one."

Masterson tried not to sigh as he pushed the button requesting a helmsman to the bridge, "True sir, but don't you think the plan might need some more...details?"

Fitzpatrick considered it. "Details are for tile masons and scuba divers, Masterson, not ship's captains. Details are for the uninformed, the cowardly, all people who need to know what's going to happen first before they commit themselves. Well not us, Masterson, not us! We are committed and will continue to be committed until our commitment is fulfilled!"

"Yes sir. You promised a list of ships that you require to the joint chiefs within the hour, sir, perhaps we should start assembling that and then move onto...well, perhaps we should start assembling the list, sir."

Fitzpatrick smiled, "Good, Masterson, good, you put together the list, I'll be in my quarters. This is a deep game, Masterson, a deep game, I must prepare...mentally."

Masterson stood and saluted as Fitzpatrick swept out of the room. As the door swooshed closed behind him, Masterson sat down and shook his head, "Seven hundred ships to get together while he goes and drains another bottle of mental preparation."

The bridge door opened and the helmsman walked up to Masterson and saluted sharply. "Reporting, sir!"

"Lovely," replied Masterson. "Now sit down and try to avoid the planet we're about to hit. After that, head back to earth, whatever the course is and make it snappy."

***

"I thought they outlawed rock and roll because of the violence it supposedly caused," stated Julie, close to the breaking point.

"No, they found that it caused obesity," stated the Cardinal. "All those years of research and they finally concluded that it was rock music that caused obesity. Neither air guitar nor air drumming provides enough exercise for you to maintain a healthy weight. Anyway, they couldn't release the findings because it would have destroyed the weight loss industry, so they closed down rock and roll by saying it caused too much violence. Now the kids are still violent, but they aren't fat."

"I can't take anymore," moaned Gill. "The truth has given me a headache."

"It takes some getting used to, no doubt," replied the Cardinal, eyeing his watch. "Look, I gotta run anyway, I got a meeting with the Catholic Daughters at four pm, I'll meet you back here for dinner. We can continue our talk then." The Cardinal got up and looked at them sympathetically, "Look, this whole truth thing, it takes a while to get used to, don't feel bad. Your whole world's been turned upside down, spend some time in the garden and when you're ready, go into the kitchen and help yourself to some pastries. My mother always said, 'No matter what happens, a snack will make you feel better.' Till later."

They watched the Cardinal move off slowly through the garden, stopping to touch a flower or admire a tree as he made his way back towards the house.

"Who would have thought it," mused Gill.

"That rock music caused weight gain?" asked Julie.

"Well, yes, but any of it," replied Gill. "I'm just having a hard time with all of it I suppose. I can't recall being this shocked since the time I heard that ice cream cured herpes."

"Well, we've made our decision," stated Julie. "I guess all that is left to do is get our furniture and face the future."

"I suppose you're right," stated Gill. The thought allowed him to relax somewhat, his tubing easing from the strain. A strange lightness seemed to settle upon him. Suddenly Gil remembered with a sigh, "I never asked him if they have cable..."

***

Jacob had reigned up the carriage in front of the massive ship, watching Nicole, the Captain, Galbard and Tardy as they walked down the gangplank towards him.

"Morons," he thought and then corrected himself. How lucky he was to be Amish instead of one of the English. "They run about in their big ships, getting into trouble, ruining things. If they just stayed where God had planted them, they would be much better off." He shook his head at their approach, "All education and fancy dress and not a useful thought to be had."

"Hello, Jacob," called out Galbard. "It's good to see you again."

"Very nice to see you too, Captain Galbard. The Cardinal is out on a call with the Catholic Daughters, but will be meeting with you after five o'clock."

"Do you know if Gil and Julie still at the Cardinal's residence?" asked the Nicole as she climbed up onto the carriage.

"They did not accompany him to the meeting he had to go to, but I couldn't say for sure if they were still there."

Galbard took a seat with Tardy, facing Nicole and her father. "We're all set here, Jacob."

With a flick of the reigns, Jacob had them on their way.

"Tell me, Mr. Tardy," began Nicole, "why did they name this planet Zooks?"

"Oh, that's easy," interrupted Galbard, "we named it out of respect for the Amish and their God."

Jacob rolled his eyes, "Zooks is not the name of our God, God is the name of our God." He looked back at his passengers, the elders said they weren't to make fun of the English, but it sure wasn't easy. "One of the less intelligent members of the founding group of Englishers thought that Zooks was the name of our God because they always heard us talking about him and all the good that he does. Zooks owned a feed store and carriage repair shop back on the home planet. No matter how many times we tell them he isn't God, they don't listen. His name is Isaiah Zooks, he's just a pleasant man who does nice work."

"Are you sure about that, Jacob?" called out Galbard. "That isn't the way I heard it."

"I can take you to meet him if you like," responded Jacob, "he's about three miles down the road from the Cardinal's palace. He's a big man; he sits broad if you understand me. Nice as can be and he doesn't over charge."

"Well, I don't care who the place is named for," smiled Galbard, "it's just good to be home."

"It is lovely here, from the little we've seen of it," replied Nicole.

"I could take you around and show you the place," offered Tardy. "It really is a lovely planet. Fields and orchards as far as the eye can see and everyone is so pleasant."

Nicole laughed, "That would be nice, Mr. Tardy. I must admit, I thought that a pirate's planet would be louder and less refined."

Galbard chuckled, "That is the pirate reputation to be sure, but in fact, now a days we're more like business men."

"So you're even bigger thieves," mumbled Jacob to himself.

"Funny that," mused Galbard, not having heard Jacob's remark, "despite the niceties we enjoy, it's still a cut throat business."

"Still, I'm sure the rough and tumble of the garbage collecting world has been good training for your new job," stated Tardy. "That is, of course, if your partners consent."

"I hope they will," stated Nicole. "Gil seemed to be having a hard time accepting this place."

"It is a unique set up," stated Galbard, "but if you think of it, it makes perfect sense. A pirate's got to live..."

"Do you want me to take the path through the garden to see if they're still there?" asked Jacob.

"Would you mind?" asked Galbard.

"I asked because I wouldn't."

"Very well, take the path through the garden."

"If they aren't there," smiled Tardy, "we could take a walk through the garden to the house. It's a beautiful garden."

Nicole smiled back at Tardy as Stanwich raised a suspicious eyebrow. He had a sneaking feeling about this fellow, Tardy. If he didn't know better, he would think that he was trying to court his daughter. He mulled it over as the carriage slowed and entered an elaborate stone gate.

Funny, he mused, most people would have built the gate out of something else; no one really used stone anymore. People might think it was primitive, stone being associated with cavemen and such. Did cavemen build gates, he wondered? Did they ever try to build a space ship out of stone? How would they have propelled it? He turned to ask Nicole what she thought about the idea and noticed that she was smiling at something. He was glad to see her so happy. He'd ask her about the cavemen later.

***

"I hate to disagree, Captain," stated Masterson, "but I really don't think that a flamethrower would be the most effective way to attack a pirate ship."

Fitzpatrick rolled his eyes, he was surrounded by idiots. "I didn't say we would use it as the first line of attack," he moaned, "it would be used as a back up system."

"I'll request it, sir," replied Masterson, "but that would make the fifth back up system overall and it could add yet another week to our departure date. You had said time was of the essence, sir."

"Lives are at stake, man," replied Fitzpatrick, slamming his hand on the table for emphasis. "You can't measure lives in flame throwers!"

Masterson nodded solemnly, having no idea of what his boss meant. "Sir, perhaps we could send out part of the fleet now and part of the fleet afterwards, this way it would appear that we were doing something."

Fitzpatrick paused to consider it. "But how would we keep the part of the fleet safe that we have to send out early without the flame throwers."

Masterson replied, "Maybe if we sent them somewhere were we felt it unlikely that they would actually have to engage the pirates, it would look like we were doing something and at the same time our forces would be safe. Then when the other portion of the fleet had been fitted with flame throwers, we could send them to take over the positions previously occupied by the part of the fleet that was running away from the pirates."

"It would be billions of golds well spent," replied Fitzpatrick, "and it would get those fool generals off my back."

"Perhaps by this show of force, the pirates might even surrender on their own," suggested the helmsman.

"Oh, I hope not," moaned Fitzpatrick. "All of this work would be for nothing if we couldn't kill them."

"Good point, sir," replied Masterson. "Should I draw up the orders for part of the fleet to get underway?"

"Yes," replied Fitzpatrick. "Draw up the orders; I will take command of that part of the fleet. If anyone is going to face the dangers of not engaging the enemy, it should be the commanding officer."

"Well put, sir," replied Masterson. "I'll see that your flag ship is ready and your baggage packed."

***

"Well, should you have been wearing four inch stiletto heels around your quarters?" asked Galbard into the communications device.

"I thought you would be coming back and I wanted to look nice for you," pouted Xiang. "The heel went through the floor and I had to call engineering and they say that there is structural damage to this area of the ship and that I need to leave my quarters. Can I move my stuff into your quarters?"

"I'd love to have you stay with me in my quarters," lied Galbard, "but what would the crew think? I mean, they might think it is a sign of favoritism."

"And it would make cheating on her ever so difficult," mumbled Tardy.

"I think the crew thinks of us as an item already," replied Xiang, "I mean, all our Christmas gifts are addressed to both of us and every time there is a wedding we get invited on the same invitation..."

"Yes, of course, you're right," laughed Galbard, sweat appearing on his forehead. "Why not move right in, I'm just being a big silly."

Xiang gave a squeal of delight, "You mean it?"

"Yes, yes, of course. Move in today. I can't have you falling through the floor in another part of the ship, but try to keep it quiet for the time being. With everything going on, with us being still technically captured and negotiating I don't want your moving in to become a focus."

"You're right, sweetie. Okay, I'll talk to you later!"

"Later!" Galbard closed the communicator and grabbed Tardy, "Tardy, she's smothering me, what can I do?"

"Usually you would have sex with Yeoman Xiang to relieve your tension," replied Tardy, "so this is sort of a brain teaser. Perhaps you might focus on setting up a timeline for the release of the ship with Captain Stanwich or concentrate on how we are going to retrieve Gil and Julie's furniture without being caught or what we are going to do, in general, to evade capture by the massive fleet that the Interplanetary Congress has just authorizing to sail against us."

"Oh, come on, Tardy, what are you talking about?" snapped Galbard. "You want to talk minor details at a time like this? I'm talking my life here, Skip! I'll never be able to do guy stuff again if she moves in."

"Guy stuff, you mean make out with an attractive Yeoman, like say, ohhh, Yeoman Xiang, in front of the whole crew?"

"No, no, I can do that," ruffled Galbard, "I'm talking guy stuff. Strategic scratching and power burps, she's not going to let me do that!"

Tardy sat down on a bench in the middle of the garden and shook his head. He could be walking about the place with Nicole but instead he was playing relationship counselor to a man whose idea of commitment was not crawling out the bedroom window before she woke up.

"Captain, how long have we been together?"

"Eight years," snapped Galbard happily.

"Three, but it feels like eight," stated Tardy. "I understand that you might be hesitant but in the last three years you and Xiang have "explored" each other in every galaxy that the Constellation has sailed through. This is the next logical step, unless of course you do the decent thing and marry her, which having walked in on you two more often than I care to think about, I doubt will happen. Decency never seems to occur to either of you..."

"I'm talking the freedom to walk around in the nude air guitaring to illegal rock tunes and you're talking about commitment?" Galbard sat down heavily, "Tardy, I have to tell you something and I hope you don't take offense to it, but you are a very strange man. I'm not just talking the name, which of course is not your fault; look, you're a great guy, but you are a weird pirate. Pirates drink and carouse and do terrible naughty and you read books and muse about stuff and worry about the pension plan. I mean, you've got the smarts, but not the attitude!"

Tardy tried very hard not to laugh. "I know that I'm not the average pirate, but there is more to being alive than drinking, carousing and doing great naughty."

"Alright, I know no one works harder at it than you do and you even convinced me that one time to try it your way, but let's face it, strictly speaking, as a pirate, your way just doesn't work."

"Tried it my way? When did we try it my way?"

Galbard rolled his eyes, "The book, Skip. Remember, you made me read that huge book?"

Tardy's eye's narrowed in thought, "You read a book?"

"You remember, you gave me that book about that family, it was about a million pages long? It took me forever to get through and it was sooooo depressing and you know what? It didn't make me a better pirate, Skip. It didn't make me a better commander, it didn't get us a bigger haul. In fact books, as far as I'm concerned, are an absolute waste of time. You don't see people learning things from books, do you? No, you learn from doing. Did you learn how to become a pirate from a book? No, I taught you."

"You read a book?"

"Yes I did and it didn't change me a bit. You said if I read it, a whole new world would open up to me, but I got nothing out of it. A million pages and at the end of it all I could think of was, "I can't believe I wasted so much time reading this book". I read that whole story and do you know what the kicker of it was? After I read the book, I saw it on television, I couldn't believe it. I wasted all that time reading it and then there it was on television. I could have just waited for them to show it to me, but instead I spent night after night with that doorstop of a novel, reading, reading, reading..."

"I don't recall you ever reading a book..."

"It was about a black family and trees," squinted Galbard, "that's all I can remember. It was so depressing. Generation after generation getting the snot kicked out of them so that the last guy could write the book, it was horrible..."

"Roots?" asked Tardy. "You read "Roots"? When did you read "Roots"?"

"The week Xiang and I went to Club Naked and she got poison ivy on the first day?" replied Galbard. "I'd sit by the pool while she sat and scratched in the room and I read that horrible book and it didn't make me a better pirate, Skip, not one bit!"

"Okay, forget the book. We honestly do have other things to do..."

Cardinal Benny sidled up and looked at the two men with a resigned air. "Ah, my two sleeping watch dogs. How are you two?"

"Cardinal, how are you?" smiled Galbard.

"I'm doing okay. You spend an afternoon with a bunch of women who want to feed you too much and do good for the Church, you can't complain." The Cardinal sat down heavily on the bench next to Tardy. "So, Skip, tell me what is going on."

"We have problems, your Eminence," began Tardy. "The ship is in bad shape, it won't be able to fly for some time, eight months at the very least. To negotiate our release with Captain Stanwich, we had to agree to his terms which means we have to teach him and his crew how to be pirates as well as put in a word for them with the union. The delay caused by waiting for the Constellation to be repaired is going to back us up quite a bit on our pick up orders and with the winter months just around the corner, we may not be able to obtain certain items that are in short supply. The government just authorized a fleet of seven hundred ships to hunt us down and part of our release deal is that we have to go back to Earth and get Gil and Julie's furniture. All in all, things are not looking up."

"Besides that," interrupted Galbard, "Yeoman Xiang wants to move in with me."

The Cardinal considered it and then, "Maybe you should ask one of the other pirates for help. Perhaps it would be better if you contacted Caucasian Tim or Peepshow Annie or one of the other pirates to pick up the furniture."

Tardy shook his head, "If we can get him to think of something else other than Yeoman Xiang, I still believe that the captain is the best man for the job."

Turning to Galbard, the Cardinal stated quietly, "You know, you have to train the new guys; I don't think it would be a good idea for you to take your girlfriend along with you on this mission."

Galbard's face twisted in thought, "Yesssss, I see what you mean. If I was on a training mission, I really should go alone. I couldn't take Xiang along, I mean, it wouldn't be right."

"In the meantime, with the ship being repaired, she would have to move out of your quarters," added Tardy.

Galbard's face dropped into a frown, "Wait a minute, if the crew has to move out of the ship, she'll ask to stay in my condo."

"She has her own apartment, doesn't she?" asked Tardy.

"And you could say that because you have to leave, you don't want her moving in until you get back," stated the Cardinal.

"You could tell her that you want to share the experience, she'll love that," agreed Tardy. "Women aren't like us at all, they love to share!"

"I see what you're driving at," began Galbard excitedly. "Sharing the experience! Yes!! She's always talking about sharing something or other. I'll never forget, once I got her into this really weird position and we were about to..."

"Too much information," interrupted the Cardinal. "So do you think you can focus on the matter at hand?"

"Which one?" asked Galbard.

"Going to get Gil and Julie's furniture?"

"Oh, that, no problem, I just have to ask Captain Stanwich a few questions, but I think I have that solved."

Tardy and Cardinal Benny exchanged glances.

Galbard noticed the exchange and shook his head, "I can't believe you two didn't figure that one out. College boys, ha."

Chapter 8

The captain stood awkwardly next to a microphone that had been rigged up in the middle of the ships conference room. He looked to Fitzpatrick with a pained expression, "So Hitler liked gum balls, I don't see the connection."

Fitzpatrick slammed his hand in glee upon the table. The 700 captains gathered jumped at the gesture, unsure if he was laughing or angry. "Hitler liked gum balls, and these vermin will like something too!" The room erupted in a noisy grumble as he continued. "The pirates have a weakness, and I believe I have found it. We have found their gum balls gentlemen." He acknowledged a hand raised in the back of the room.

"Do we want their gumballs, sir?" asked the voice. "I mean, knowing their weakness is all well and good, but how do we exploit it?"

"Simple," replied Fitzpatrick, "simple. Johnson, lower the screen!"

A huge viewing screen descended from he ceiling of the conference room, the lights dimmed and Fitzpatrick began his presentation.

"As you can see from the chart on the screen, I have done a minute analysis of all of the pirate's raids. I wanted to know what it was that they were after, and time and time again, one item was always taken from every ship that these people have raided. One item was always at the top of the list."

The screen went dark momentarily, adding an almost unbearable suspense to Fitzpatrick's words. "The one item was not gold, not silver, not platinum, not cheese cloth. The item that defines these people, that they are addicted to is...." Suddenly the screen came back to life featuring an enormous picture of a beautiful blonde in a bikini holding a yellow bottle across which was written "NEGREAT" in brown letters.

"That is it, gentlemen," snapped Fitzpatrick. A deep silence filled the room.

"Begging the commander's pardon," said a voice in the back of the room, "but what is "it", sir? Is it the girl, or the bottle, sir?"

"The bottle," replied Fitzpatrick excitedly.

Masterson shot a glance to the man next to him and then asked hesitantly, "Sir, I've never heard of that product. What is "Negreat" exactly?"

Masterson's question bucked Fitzpatrick out of his revelry, his face dissolving in an angry scowl. "You don't know what "Negreat" is? You've never heard the commercial?" He began to sing;

"Negreat's great, that's no lie,

turns you black, without no dye,

you'll be so dark, they'll treat you second rate,

so go on out, and get some Negreat!"

He stared at the group in utter disgust, "No one has heard of it??? It's tanning lotion! Every time they attack a vessel, no matter what else they take, they take Negreat!"

"Why would people have tanning lotion on board, sir?" asked Masterson. "What sort of ships are they attacking?"

"They're attacking freighters, of course!"

"Are there tanning salons on freighters?" asked the man next to Masterson.

"Of course there are," snapped Fitzpatrick. "They're union!"

"Oh..."

"Listen to me," continued Fitzpatrick, "this Negreat is the pirate's gumball!"

"They chew it, sir?"

"No, you idiot," snapped Fitzpatrick, "it's a metaphor! It is their weakness and we will use it to do to them the same thing that was done to Hitler!"

"Begging the commander's pardon," called out a voice in the back, "I am a bit confused. I thought Hitler shot himself, sir. I do not recall how his love of gumballs led to his downfall."

"It made him vulnerable," sputtered Fitzpatrick, "it's as plain as the nose on your face! If the Allies had been smart, they would have exploited his love of gumballs, but they didn't, they just bombed Germany back to the Stone Age and then got stuck rebuilding it! We're not going to make the same mistake, I promise you that! We're going to poison their gumballs!"

"Are you suggesting that we put poison in bottles of Negreat as a way of killing the pirates?" asked Masterson.

Fitzpatrick felt the curse of his brilliance once more, no one understood him. "Noooo!!! I am saying that we will follow the Negreat trail! We will let the Negreat take us to them and when they are lotioned up and vulnerable, we will strike!"

"You are suggesting that we try to coordinate a highly technical, military attack around the pirate's tanning schedule?" asked Masterson.

"Of course," raged Fitzpatrick, "find the weakness and exploit it!"

"Don't we first have to find them as well, sir?" asked Masterson.

Fitzpatrick laughed a wicked laugh, "I know where they are, Masterson or rather, where they will be. It's as plain as the nose on your face! The day of reckoning is upon them, Masterson and I pray that God has mercy on them, because I won't!"

***

"I can't tell you how happy I am that you two are staying," stated Nicole. "I know you'll be happy here and eventually, so will Gil."

Julie smiled, glancing back at Gil sitting in the middle of the garden on a stone bench, all by himself, alone with his thoughts. "Gil needs time to adjust, we all do, he just shows it a bit more."

Gil gazed blankly at the flowers, gripping the stone bench tentatively as he tried to gather his thoughts. What had they done? What insanity had prompted them to make their decision? He took a deep breath against the rising panic and tried to remain calm. How could he take Julie to live with pirates? You couldn't trust a pirate, besides these were perhaps the worst pirates who ever lived. It was hard to have confidence in a group of outlaws who answered to a Cardinal of the Church whose goal was to protect the Amish.

Then there was the issue of furniture. Julie wanted some familiar things around her, which was a comfort, but in the end, would it not just remind them of all they had thrown away? All of their years together, building a life, a home, all gone and for what? A little cottage on the edge of a garden with no electricity, no job and a completely unknown future, it didn't make sensed.

Finally, and in no way less importantly, his entire belief system had been blown out of the water. He had spent his life convinced that the government was trying its best for all people and now he was confronted with the fact that they did not even care. No one could believe that one point five million Amish were three million Africans. Gil didn't believe it, but the truth of the matter made the situation even worse in his eyes. They didn't care! The government he had given his life to did not care about people, it just wanted problems to go away, whether they were fixed properly or not. Silence was what the government was after, not solutions. The whole idea had gone from helping people to not wanting to listen to complaints. He had spent his life listening to complaints and for what? So the government would not have to listen?

"Your life isn't broken, Gil," stated a voice behind him.

"Huh?" Gil turned to see the Cardinal take a seat next to him on the stone bench. Gil could not help but notice there was nothing tentative about it, the Cardinal plopped down on the bench like he knew the bench would hold him and the earth it sat on would hold the bench and universe around them would hold the planet. Gil, in contrast, did not think he could trust his faulty tubing to work another second, was not sure where he was, who he was and finally, still was not convinced that his birthday was not either today or tomorrow.

"You look like you are trying to decide how to fix your life," began the Cardinal amiably, "I'm just telling you, it ain't broken."

"Nothing is the same," began Gil.

"That doesn't mean your life is broken," interrupted the Cardinal, "it just means it's changed. Your parent's lives weren't broken when you were born, their lives just changed. Your life wasn't broken when you married Julie, it just changed. Our lives, Gil, change every second, we grow older, hopefully wiser, make more mistakes and perhaps realize along the way that we shouldn't be so serious. In a lot of ways, life is kinda goofy."

"Life is kinda goofy, that's supposed to make me feel better?" asked Gil. "We gave up our home, our lives and for the time being electricity for "life is kinda goofy?" You won't be angry at me, I hope, if I find that "kinda" not helpful."

The Cardinal laughed, "Hey, you're catching on. It's okay to be scared, we should be scared, life is a scary thing, until you face it. Then you find out it's like when we were kids, when you used to hold your hands up in front of a lamp and throw shadows on the wall, remember? You find out, the big scary things are a lot like those shadows, they're just hatred and anger and fear trying to look bigger and tougher than they are. The problem is when you find out that most of the so called solid things you put your trust in are shadows too. The government and politicians and businesses and sometimes even friends and family too can be shadows. The only thing that you find out isn't a shadow is something you might have figured out long ago if you had really sat down and taken an honest look at things and that's love. Sounds like a bunch of crap, doesn't it?"

"The thing is it isn't the type of love that you see in those sappy movies where the guy wins the girl and proves his love by killing everyone else in the picture, or the girl proves her love by jumping in front of a train rather than betray his secret. Or the one where the kid falls in love with an injured gerbil and meets all sorts of amusing characters on his way to Spain to release the little guy back into the wild..."

"I don't recall that one," interrupted Gil, "and I don't think gerbils are native to Spain..."

"What are you, the nature channel or something, go with me here! Now look, love isn't any of those things, love is sitting in your favorite chair at the end of a long day's work and finally getting comfortable and your wife calling out to you to help her hang curtains."

"Gerbils and now curtains?"

The Cardinal continued, "It's so much easier in a pulpit, no interruptions. Look, you don't want to get up from your easy chair when the missus calls you to hang curtains. You're a man, what do you care about curtains? The only reason you put up with them is because they keep your neighbors from seeing you walking around in your underwear. In fact, on principal, you're against changing the curtains because the dirtier they get the less the neighbors can see, but your wife wants to change them, so you get up and do it."

"So love is getting up and changing curtains when you don't want to do it?"

The Cardinal raised his hand as if he were contemplating smacking Gil, but instead continued. "Love is doing things you don't want to do for the people you love, that's what love is. You think I want to go to the Bratwurst Festival every year and spend the day trying everyone's special recipe until I'm praying for a stomach pump? No, I do not, but I do it to show my love. You're a married guy, if you can think back to a time before you were married I'll bet you as much money as you want to bet that you swore that you would never do something for your wife that you do now without even thinking about it."

"You mean, like trips to the embarrassing aisle at the pharmacy?" asked Gil quietly.

"Exactly! Half the time I bet you don't even know what you're buying, but you go out and buy it anyway, that's love!"

"So love is caring so much about someone that you'll do disgusting things for them."

"No, love is caring so much for someone that you'll do what you have to do to make their life better, even if it doesn't make your life better." The Cardinal stood, "I'm sorry, but I have to get back to the pirates before they make any plans about anything. They can't be trusted to think on their own, so even though it isn't a lot of laughs, I help them think, kinda like how you help Captain Stanwich think. You wouldn't do that unless you cared for him and his crew. Let's face it, he came to you with nothing and so far has given you even less, yet here you are..." Cardinal Benny threw his arms out and gestured around them. He gave Gil a soft pat on the shoulder and sauntered off through the garden, back towards the house.

***

"Gentlemen," cried out the Commander, his voice booming through out the hanger via another hastily rigged microphone, "we are about to become the righteous angels of destruction. We are preparing to meet the Godless enemies of the state and we will either die or triumph!" The hanger erupted in applause. "No man here should doubt for one moment that he is an instrument at this moment in history in the hands of God! Yes, God Himself, not like a subordinate or a guy who works for Him, but the one true God, and not the nonsensical God some of you people undoubtedly believe in, but the real one. Any way you slice it gentlemen, we are God's avenging angels!"

"And we are led by the Looney of God," murmured Masterson beneath his breath.

"The taking of human life is never easy," continued Fitzpatrick, "so that is why we must be blood thirsty and ruthless. Killing is not fun, gentlemen, unless it is done for righteousness sake, and then, it is a pleasure!"

"Frighteningly bad theology aside, sir," interrupted Masterson as the applause slowed, "perhaps you should move on to giving general orders to the fleet."

"Yes, of course," replied Fitzpatrick, placing his hand over the microphone which had the odd effect of actually amplifying his voice. "Gentlemen, we are about to begin a hugely complex and dangerous mission. We are only three hundred and fifty ships strong against a cunning and far flung enemy who just so happens to have less ships and people than we do. Also, if I am correct, and I have no doubt that I am, we will be able to locate them all at one place, so far flung might not be the best description, but it is relevant in a figurative sense. That said our fleet will journey in three groupings, Attack Force A, Attack Force B and Attack Force Three. I will command Attack Force A, Attack Force B will be under the direct command of my sub commander, Sub Commander Masterson. Sub Commander Masterson will not be allowed to make any decisions without first consulting me, so in essence, Attack Force B will also be under my command. Now Attack Force Three will be under the command of Sub Commander Bartlet..."

"Sir," interrupted Masterson, "sir, Commander Bartlet is in the hospital, remember? He went in for an "operation", sir?"

"Operation?" asked Fitzpatrick. "I thought he caught something from that woman who isn't his "wife"."

Masterson rolled his eyes, "No, sir, he went in for an operation, so he will not be available to command Attack Force Three."

Fitzpatrick considered this a moment, "Very well, I will assume command of Attack Force Three. Now that I am in command of Attack Force Three, I just want to say that we will be moving as three completely separate entities, which means everyone in each group will receive his or her orders from me directly. Also, we will all stay together or in very close proximity to each other as this will be safer for everyone concerned and if we split up, it might get very confusing and slow things down quite a bit."

"Where are we going, sir?" cried out a voice from the back of the room.

"Good question, very good question," replied Fitzpatrick, "but I think it best that no one other than I and the commanders of the three Attack Forces know the answer to that question right now."

"Well, how are we going to set the coordinates of our ships if we don't know where we are going?" asked Masterson.

"A good question," replied Fitzpatrick into the microphone. "Everyone will just have to follow my ship." Fitzpatrick thought for a moment, "No, I don't like that idea. My ship should be in the rear in case of attack. I should be like the chess master, controlling the action on the field of all black squares that is space."

"Then who do we follow, sir?" asked Masterson quietly.

Fitzpatrick considered it. "No one. I will tie everyone's navigational control into my navigational control and thus direct the flight of each ship."

"Won't that be dangerous, sir? I mean, can one ship safely direct the flight of 350 other ships? Eventually you'll have seven hundred ships to fly, sir..."

"I would think if we went straight it would be no big deal," replied Fitzpatrick.

Masterson nodded sagely. If he "accidentally" stabbed himself, he could be in the hospital in time to miss lift off. Where could he find a knife?

***

"Very well," stated Captain Stanwich, "I'll release your ship."

"You might have to remove it from your bay, actually," stated Galbard, with an air of embarrassment. "Our main engines are out, as are our auxiliary engines, our back up engines, pumps, generators and emergency back ups."

"Solar power?"

"Out."

"Wind?"

"Out."

"Fossil fuel reserve back up engines?"

"We don't have any gas."

Stanwich frowned, "Good thing we captured you, you might have gotten into trouble out there."

"We appreciate being captured," stated Galbard good naturedly, "in fact; we wanted to give you a little present for capturing us and getting us back to Zooks in one piece."

Turning to Tardy, Galbard took a package wrapped in newspaper from him.

"Here, on behalf of the crew of the Constellation to our friends on the Aurora."

The captain took the package and opened it slowly. "Oh my, don't you have to pass some sort of obstacle course to get one of these?"

"No, usually you just buy them at Jacobs House of Mighty Sharp Stuff," replied Tardy.

Stanwich held up the sword, his eyes aglow with the reflection of cold, sharpened steel. "It doesn't get much better than this."

"Thank God for low expectations," smiled Tardy, giving Stanwich a friendly clap on the back, "Have you seen your daughter, Nicole, around?"

"She was walking with Julie in Cardinal Benny's garden a while back," replied Stanwich. "Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering," replied Tardy. "If you'll excuse me..."

Stanwich watched Tardy go, unsure of what he should do. Galbard placed a friendly hand on his shoulder. "Skip is a good man; I think your daughter likes him."

"That's it," snapped Stanwich. "He wants to date my daughter, doesn't he?"

"I think so," replied Galbard, unaware of having started anything. "Skip seems the type who would date. Now take me, for instance, I don't date. Pirates usually don't, but Skip, he's a dater. I bet you he asks her out for dinner and a movie or something like that, he's soooo strange."

"I don't want my daughter dating a pirate," interrupted Stanwich, "I want her to have a better life than I've had!"

Galbard frowned, not comprehending, "What better life is there than being a pirate? You're free and your own man, life is yours, no boss, no time clock! Besides, you aren't even a pirate yet, you haven't even filled out the forms!"

"It isn't stable," replied Stanwich. "What if he's captured, or killed?"

"Nothing is stable anymore," replied Galbard. "Take a look at you. Your job wasn't stable, that's why you're here."

"But that wasn't my fault..."

Galbard shook his head, "In a sense it was. Not to be critical but you chose to work for those people; you could have been a pirate a long time ago and been your own boss. Of course a lot of people come to pirating later in life, I guess a certain maturity is required, but you're only fooling yourself if you think life back on the big planet is better than it is here. Look around you, beautiful gardens, happy people, okay, you've got horse poop in the streets, but that is the Amish and you can't discuss cars with them. Overall, they're a nice group but they can be so unreasonable, but the rest of it, you can't tell me this isn't a better place than where you came from."

Stanwich wavered slightly.

"Look, let's talk Captain to Captain. You ran your business honestly, worked your fingers to the bone and what did it get you and your daughter? For all your hard work, you were three days away from starving to death. Now Tardy is on the wrong side of the law, I'll grant you that, but we all are, and besides that, he's a good guy. He invests his money, doesn't drink, owns a co-op and seldom, if ever, eats fatty foods. Your daughter could do a lot worse and he's crazy about her. I'm not saying things will work out, he's got some real annoying habits, he picks up after himself and likes his room clean and his clothes ironed, frankly I'd have to kill him if we were roommates, but if your daughter can over look his faults, perhaps you can too."

Captain Stanwich looked worried, "Doesn't like fatty foods?"

"He claims to like them but he's watching his weight."

"How could he not like fatty foods? I mean, sure, you've got deep fried fat, which is not as appetizing as it sounds, no matter who makes it, but other than that most fatty foods are wonderful. Who could say no?"

"A man with self control," stated Galbard. "I'm not one for self control myself, but most people think it a great attribute."

"Sure, I suppose, but you can self control too much. You mean if I offer him a barbequed spare rib, he might say no?"

"It is possible, but it depends if he worked out or not."

Stanwich shook his head, "Why can't women like normal men?"

Galbard smiled sagely, "Thank God for men like us that they don't!"

Chapter 9

"Do you feel secure enough to leave the bench now," asked Julie.

"Yes," replied Gil quietly, "I think that I can take certain things for granted again. I think that the planet will support me and that I am awake and that despite its problems, my heart is still beating and that I am not in a drug induced hallucinogenic state brought on by doctors trying to save my life."

"So we've had some real progress then. I just want you to know Gil that I love you and I am scared also, but everything will be alright. We will have a little home and soon, we will have some of our furniture and then we can settle down to the job of....settling down. Rome wasn't built in a day."

"No, Rome took some time, I'll grant you that," he replied, trying to sound upbeat. "Still, they weren't trying to hide the entire city from the authorities. No, no, let me stop, I'm being upbeat now. Everything is going to be fine."

***

Dinner aboard the Aurora that night was a surprisingly quiet affair, everyone eating together but lost in their own thoughts. The crew of the Aurora sat around the table, each person quietly contemplating their own affairs.

Nicole sat pensively eating a salad. She was excited and scared, a new home and a new beginning and possibly a new boy friend. Tardy had been very attentive and polite, but he was, after all, a pirate. A great looking, well spoken pirate, but a pirate none the less. Did she want to get involved with a pirate? What would their future be like? Certainly he seemed dependable, but what if he were captured, or killed? She became flush, she couldn't bear to think of him captured or killed, the strength of her reaction surprised her. Perhaps she was fonder of him than she had let herself realize. No, they had only known each other for such a short time, but he was so attractive and sweet and smart and funny...she would talk to Julie. Woman to woman, she could talk to Julie, she was so confused. Julie would know, Julie was a real friend. She would talk to Julie.

Chester sat next to Nicole, eating his sloppy Joe sandwich and mulling over recent events. He was glad that he had brought all his clothes with him on this trip because now he had everything he owned on board and wouldn't have to think of where he had to go shopping because he had left something behind. Chewing thoughtfully on his sandwich he tried to see a down side in his decision, but couldn't, which made him extremely happy. If you can't find anything bad with what you've done, chances are you have done the right thing, his mother used to say. He still had a job and still had his friends and now he would live on a planet where he wouldn't starve and they had horses. He loved horses though he had decided that he would never ride a horse; it just wasn't fair to the horse. The horse had never asked to have a fat man ride on his back and just because you could do it didn't mean that you should, so he would not ride the horses, but he wanted to make friends with them. He vowed to carry carrots with him whenever he left the ship in case he met a friendly horse on the way. He looked around the table at the others, yes, that is what he would do. He was sure that the others would never think to do it, but that was okay. He knew they depended upon him to make the nuts and bolts decisions and pick up the slack. They were all good people; it's just that they were not thinkers. It was how the team worked and he didn't mind being the go to guy.

Next to Chester, Panther ate some jerked pork and mused over their new situation. He had yet to see a black man on the premises. Cardinal Benny had stated that there were black people on this planet and it had been the thing that had clinched his decision to stay, but he still hadn't seen any. He had nothing against white people, mind you, but he need some down time from them once in a while. They had their own mind set, if you could call it that, and you need some time with your own people to get back to yourself. Were there black Amish people? He couldn't imagine that there were, what self respecting black man would purposely not have electricity? Why would you go running out to an outhouse in the middle of the night? No, that was crazy white folks stuff, living like it was the middle ages. He thought back to his school days and it suddenly struck him, there had been no black people during the middle ages either! Everyone was a Frank or a Celt or a Saxon or something, where were the black people during the middle ages? What happened to them? Were they all on vacation? Panther frowned at his food, so far to go, my brother, so far to go...

Mad Matt sat next to Panther cracking crab claws and flashing glances at the others. He knew why he was here, but he wasn't sure about the others. For him, this was a win/win situation. First off, if anyone was ever meant to be a pirate, it was him. He was the only one when the ship had been attacked who had even thought of firing back. Twice they'd been attacked, twice he'd made the sensible suggestion that they shoot back, if that wasn't pirate thinking, what was? He'd ace that pirate exam; it would be a cake walk for him. He had pirate thinking in him, had had it all his life. He decided to ask himself some questions to test himself. How much was 154 and 385? Answer, stick a saber through the teachers head and then see who is asking the questions! What was the boiling point of mercury? Impale the teacher on the thermometer and then see who is asking the questions! Final question, who was the 65th president of the confederation? Answer, I don't know, but if I stick a fork in your eye, do you think that will answer your question???? Yes, he'd ace that pirate test, no doubt!

Don sat eating his hamburger, watching Mad Matt's face contour to its inner demons. Thinking of killing someone, no doubt, Mad Matt always thought of killing someone at dinner, thought Don with a shrug. Leaning back in his chair, he chewed thoughtfully. He saw the sense in his decision to stay and that made him feel even more comfortable than he normally felt. Don would be at home anywhere, so the decision that had stymied all his friends was a no brainer for him. The question answer thing, the make lists of pros and cons, none of that affected him one way or the other. The only thing that mattered was could he live here in reasonable style. Don knew that the others turned to him to get a sense of style, it was his contribution to the team and he didn't mind taking on the challenge. Sure, there were roadblocks and some people just didn't understand how important style was, but he had brought them all a long way. Just look at Nicole, if it hadn't been for his influence, she probably wouldn't have been given a second look by that pirate fellow. No, Don understood that his contributions to the group would probably never be understood, he was more like the fertilizer that helps the beautiful flower grow, no one thanks the fertilizer, but where would you be without it? He knew the whole pirate venture would hinge on his response to it, so he was playing it cool, leading by example yet again. Don understood his worth and he cared for his friends. He knew that they were simple and that he would probably never get his due publicly, but privately, he knew he had a lot to be proud of.

Sitting next to Don, Gil didn't want to alarm anyone, but he was quite sure that his heart had stopped beating. It wasn't for a long period of time, but it had definitely skipped a beat during dinner, he could tell. On the plus side, his tubing had enjoyed a momentary rest, but the thought that his heart had actually stopped beating for a moment frightened him. Did they have life insurance on this planet? Would there be a better interest rate than on earth? Would the salesman be more interesting? Gil didn't blame the insurance salesman, it was not his fault that insurance was about as interesting as...well, insurance. Anyway, how could he tell Julie the news that his heart had stopped beating? It had been an odd sensation, suddenly, while trying to decide upon either the Ruben sandwich or a more health conscientious salad; he noticed that his heart had stopped beating. Upon realizing it, it seemed to start again, but what did it mean? What if his heart stopped, it would ruin his birthday. Julie's birthday was months away and now his birthday was either tomorrow or the next day, he couldn't remember which, and it was his bad luck to have a sputtering heart. He knew Julie depended upon him to set the mood and this birthday would set the stage for future celebrations. What would he do? What could he do?

Julie sat next to Gil consumed with one idea, curtains. Here she had a new home to decorate and she had no idea of where she would purchase curtains. It drove her to distraction, a house was not a home without curtains and she had no idea if when they went back for the furniture if they would be able to get new curtains. She was sure that her old curtains just would not work in the new house and she wanted the new place to look a bit special, sort of a sign to the neighbors that nice people had come to live here. The idea of having a Cardinal as a neighbor was certainly nice, but who were the people on the other sides? What were they used to in neighbors? She and Gil had known all of their neighbors by name, well, she knew all of their neighbor's names. In all honesty, Gil was sometime unsure of his own name, she chuckled quietly to herself. He was a good man and she loved him with all her soul, but she had to admit that he was often confused about just about everything. She didn't mind doing the socializing for them, he was always kind and ready to help out where he could, but she knew that people as a category fell under her jurisdiction. Who would be the new neighbors? She wanted to make a good first impression, curtains were a must.

Captain Stanwich ate his spaghetti, not looking up, lost in thought. His only daughter might be dating a pirate soon, how should he react? Also, he was about to become a pirate. Now he didn't want to set a double standard, that would be wrong, but he did have concerns. What if Nicole got serious with this fellow? Would they want to marry and live with him? He had the ship, which was roomy enough, but would this fellow call him Dad and want to go fishing? He hated fishing, though he liked fried fish, especially chicken. No, chicken wasn't a fish now that he thought about it, but fried chicken was about the best thing in the world, so why had he ordered spaghetti from the food processor? Spaghetti was good too, he had to admit it, but it wasn't fried. Could you fry spaghetti? He should have ordered fried fish and spaghetti, that would have been a great meal. Looking down at his plate he saw meatballs peeking out from under the spaghetti. Suddenly, life made sense; he knew that God loved him, that was all that mattered.

***

Fitzpatrick stared out of the bay window that had been installed in his private quarters and raised his glass sagely to his lips. Masterson waited patiently, the daily briefings had become somewhat unfocused, a point that he wished to address.

"Commander, our forward scouting ships have encountered no pirate activity, our intelligence people have no new leads and the area that our fleet is now occupying is uninhabited. Also, since the second half of the fleet has joined us and we are at seven hundred strong, I am sure that you are preparing to unleash one of your great plans. While it is always interesting to watch your scenarios unfolding, could you perhaps tell me what our next move might be?"

Fitzpatrick shrugged, "I am waiting Masterson, waiting for the hair in the pudding."

"Hair in the pudding, sir?"

Fitzpatrick lowered his glass dramatically, "Masterson, let me tell you a little story. Once I went to a dinner, a dinner at which I was to be assassinated."

"Assassinated?" Masterson feigned surprise, though in complete sympathy with the idea.

"Yes, there are people, who through insanity, jealousy, perhaps even chemical imbalances, find it impossible to like me. The phenomenon can not be explained by a rational mind, but I assure you, it has happened."

"Anyway, I knew that I would be assassinated that very night. I went to dinner, my senses on high alert. I watched everything, I watched everyone, but could detect nothing. At the end of the meal, I took up my cup of chocolate pudding and just before I took the first mouthful, I saw it. In the middle of the pudding, there it was a hair! I calmly lifted the spoonful to my mouth and then, at the last moment, I threw the spoon aside, launching the cup across the room. I pulled my mazer, shooting the waiter and just as I did so, the cup landed in the middle of a table across the room, exploding and killing all the people dining there."

"How does hair explode?"

"It wasn't a hair, Masterson, it was a wire leading to a bomb secreted in the pudding!"

"Good Lord, and the people at the table that you blew up, were they all part of the conspiracy?"

"It would come out later that they were just people celebrating a birthday or something, but they died for the greater good, victims of terrorism in its worse form."

"The worse form of terrorism is exploding pudding?"

"No, Masterson, the worst type of terrorism is when people attempt to kill me. The point is that I'm waiting again, waiting for another hair in the pudding. It will be something that seems small and insignificant, but when it comes but I am going to be ready. Trust me Masterson; I will kill those people at the next table, just like I did last time!"

Masterson nodded, "If you'll excuse me, Commander, I must prepare for dinner."

"Of course, of course, Masterson, you go right ahead. We will speak later."

Masterson left the room and headed down the hallway to the bridge. Entering the bridge he noticed the people there freeze momentarily and then grow quiet, watching him out of the corner of their eyes.

"Gather round people," began Masterson. "Now I don't want to alarm anyone, but we might be here a while. The Commander is waiting for his...muse to address him. In the meantime, we need to be prepared for any contingency."

"Sir," interrupted a young cadet, "is there a course of action that the Commander is leaning towards?"

Masterson put a fatherly hand on the cadet's shoulder. "My dear fellow, the Commander never leans towards a course of action that would require the use of a thought process. No, this is why we have to be prepared for any contingency, any wild thought, any bizarre, irrational action."

"You mean to say that we could be sitting out here or racing anywhere in the universe?" asked the cadet.

"Exactly," replied Masterson calmly. "Now don't become unduly alarmed, the variables aren't as opposite as you might think."

Dramatically, as if on cue, the door to the bridge slid open and the Commander stepped onto the bridge. The world froze as he moved slowly, deliberately towards his chair. "Gentlemen, I have found the hair in the pudding."

The cadet looked at Masterson and squealed, "I had pudding at lunch!"

"No, that isn't what he means..."

The personnel on the bridge began screaming and running about, they all had had pudding at lunch; pudding had been the special dessert.

"Masterson," roared the Commander, "put these people on report and call the galley. No pudding, no pudding everrrrrrr!"

***

"Well, what do you think?" asked Cardinal Benny, sitting at his desk as he looked over the test scores of Captain Stanwich and his crew.

"The captain scored very well on the technical aspects of the quiz," replied Tardy, "as did the man they call Panther. The other three are either too brilliant for tests or stark raving mad, we can't quite make up our minds."

"But you do believe that they have the capability to get the job done," replied the Cardinal, sneaking a cookie off the tray that Theresa had begrudgingly brought out for his guests.

"I like Stanwich," replied Galbard, following the Cardinal's lead in regards to the cookies. "I think he'll be fine, once he gets some experience under his belt and I think the job we have planned will be just the thing."

"So you have a plan for removing the threat caused by the massive government armada that is headed towards us?" asked the Cardinal.

"Noooo," drawled Galbard, "I've got a plan to get Gil and Julie's furniture back. To be honest, I put the armada thing on the back burner. You seemed pretty anxious to keep Gil and Julie here, so I've made that the top priority."

Tardy momentarily brought his hand to his eyes, "Of course, we have to keep our priorities straight. If I may, your Eminence, I think that perhaps we need to get their furniture immediately so that we might move on to other matters. Remember, Captain Galbard is always at his best when his back is against the wall. "

"We should build one into his shirts," replied the Cardinal. "Our intelligence indicates that Fitzpatrick is currently doing nothing, he's just got a bunch of ships floating in space moving no where, but that could change at any moment. I hate to lose you at this time, but if we're going to do it, it's probably the best time to go. With so few ships patrolling the earth, you need to get in, get the furniture, get out and get back here."

"I estimate two days for the whole operation," said Galbard cheerfully. "We've outfitted the Aurora with the necessary equipment and Panther was able to kick up their weaponry to pirate standards in a flash. The man is a treasure; if he weren't so dedicated to his friends I'd fire my engineer in a heartbeat and scoop him up."

"Two days?" The Cardinal considered it, "I'm not sure I'm loving the two days thing. The armada isn't scheduled to scan in this area, but who knows, Fitzpatrick isn't stable. With you two gone, I'll only have two ships for planetary defense should they show up, not that three ships against seven hundred is great odds, but at least we could get more people off the planet if need be."

"I don't think it will matter," replied Tardy, "if they show up when we aren't here, you'll be in trouble and if they show up when we are here, you'll still be in trouble."

"Still, we'll do our best to get back as soon as possible," replied Galbard.

"I don't know," replied the Cardinal, "even if we had everyone here, we'd only have fifty odd ships. If they find us, I think we're done for."

"Don't be ridiculous," began Galbard reasonably, "if we were done for, it would make no sense to go for the furniture. By the very act of picking up the furniture, we're insuring that the armada will be defeated."

"So you think that by doing something that appears to indicate that we have a future it guarantees that we will have a future?" asked Tardy.

Galbard rolled his eyes. "Isn't that what you two taught me? I mean Xiang wanted to move in, right? But by delaying the action we just about made it impossible to ever happen. It's the same thing!"

Tardy and the Cardinal shared a glance.

"You do realize that at some point in the future, she will try to move in again with you, don't you?" asked the Cardinal.

"Yes, of course," chuckled Galbard, "but by then there will be another crisis and we'll have more excuses. Being a pirate is all about crisis, I'm sure I'll be safe for years." Standing, he clapped his two friends on the back, "Well, compadres, let's get that furniture!"

***

Thursday was Amish market day and Julie and Nicole spent every Thursday together, gathering things for Julie and Gil's new home and for the 400 guest rooms on the Aurora. With a loan from Cardinal Benny, the two women began the enormous amount of purchasing to be done. With so much to buy, it had become necessary to recruit the crew to carry packages. The men, therefore, would spend their Thursday mornings being loaded up with a variety of goods like an old west mule train and once the two women had loaded up each man with as much as he could carry, they would be sent back to their abodes while the women, exhausted from their efforts at beautifying the world, sat down for a late lunch.

As the weeks had worn on and the purchasing seemed only to increase, each man had chosen one of the two paths that men have followed on shopping excursions with women since time immemorial. Don, Chester, Panther and Gil followed along quietly like chain gang prisoners, seldom looking up and quietly longing to be anywhere else besides the place where they found themselves. Captain Stanwich and Mad Matt, on the other hand, behaved more like bored children, constantly getting into mischief and committing the cardinal sin of touching things that the women had no intention of buying.

"Tell me, Nicole," began Julie as she handed Chester a throw rug to carry, "do you think I need doilies under my lamps?"

"The ones in the living room or the ones in the bedroom?" asked Nicole, eyeing a set of towels that might look nice in one of the guestrooms on deck twenty four.

"I'm thinking living room," replied Julie.

Nicole frowned in thought, "No, I don't think so. Those Amish tables you bought are so beautiful..."

"Look," interrupted Stanwich, "over there!"

The two women turned to see an older Amish man with a white beard holding a long stick, standing behind a fence.

"Not again," pleaded Nicole.

"It's the Pig Show!" yelled all of the men in unison.

"You went and saw the Pig Show last time, Dad," said Nicole softly, "we only have a little more shopping to do..."

"It's a different show every week," interrupted Mad Matt. "He must beat those pigs something awful, but each week they learn a completely different show."

"Remember when they jumped through the hoops?" asked Don.

"How about when he got them to slide down the board into the mud," replied Stanwich. "The man is a genius."

"Oh my God!" yelled Panther, pointing towards the fence.

The Captain's eyes almost popped out of his head, "A monkey!"

The women had no choice but to sidestep the stampede as the crew abandoned them and raced towards the fence. Gil stood quietly behind Julie, holding three shopping bags and wearing a forlorn expression.

"Oh, go ahead," she said with a wave of her hand and off he trotted after the others. "He's always thinking he's having a heart attack," she murmured to Nicole once he was out of range, "but he'll run after his friends to see the Pig Show. Then, all of a sudden, his heart is okay."

"Well, we could stop them if we wanted to," replied Nicole.

"How?"

Nicole smiled, "Just ask the old man for some bacon."

The two women laughed and moved on to the next stall.

***

"Look, he's jumping through the hoops again," pointed Don.

"Amazing," stated Stanwich, "simply amazing."

"Look at the monkey," said Chester, "he's climbing up the ladder! Look, look, he jumped off!"

The men all gasped as the monkey landed in a small wading pool.

"What an intrepid little fellow," stated Gil. The others stared at him for clarification, "The monkey. He's an intrepid monkey. Fearless, he's a fearless little fellow."

"Oh," replied Stanwich. "I thought you meant that was the name of the breed."

"I think he's a spider monkey," mused Don, "or maybe a very small chimp."

"Chimps are larger than that," replied Panther, "and chimps don't have tails."

"I thought it was gorillas that didn't have tails," replied Stanwich.

"They don't," interrupted Mad Matt. "Neither do guinea pigs."

"A guinea pig isn't a member of the ape family," replied Gil.

"Since when?" asked Mad Matt. "I saw a special once and they clearly stated that guinea pigs don't lay eggs."

Gil frowned, "That doesn't mean that they are part of the ape family."

Mad Matt waved him off, "You don't know much about animals. An animal either lays eggs or doesn't, the ones that lay eggs are all in the chicken family and the ones that don't are in the ape family."

Gil decided not to pursue it. A moment later, Julie and Nicole arrived with several bags they needed transported.

"Come on, now," state Julie, "we're supposed to meet the Cardinal, Captain Galbard and Mr. Tardy back at the ship."

The men grumbled under their burdens, but quietly filed off after the women, each casting a last, longing glance at the pigs and the monkey.

Chapter 10

Fitzpatrick stared into the viewing screen; eyes alight with an inner glow that a man gets only when a master plan finally comes together. He was sure that Napoleon felt the same way at Austerlitz, or Patton at the Battle of the Bulge, or Lucy when she finally tricked Ricky into letting her be in the show.

Captain Masterson stood beside his commanding officer, not wishing to intrude on his crowning achievement.

"Look at them, Masterson, aren't they beautiful."

"Impressive," agreed Masterson. "How did you get them to give you permission?"

"When the survival of the human race is on the line, even capitalist will open their eyes."

Masterson considered it, "Traditionally, not. Also, the survival of the race isn't really on the line..."

Fitzpatrick huffed, "I told them it would be great advertising."

Masterson smiled, "Now that makes sense."

The two massive, yellow ships floated majestically passed the view screen, a Negreat logo plastered on either side, the blonde 8 stories tall, holding a bottle of the lotion and smiling out at them in the darkness of space. Fitzpatrick gulped at their passing, his chest heavy with emotion. "We'll send them out and track them. Once they are captured, we'll follow the pirates to their lair and then, Masterson, glory!" Moving to the view screen, he placed a hand gingerly upon it and whispered, "Glory."

"Get your hand off that screen," crabbed an old Irish cleaning woman washing the bridge floor. "I didn't clean it for you to leave fingerprints on, you colossal ass."

Fitzpatrick stepped back angrily. "This is the last time I use my good offices to get you a job, Aunt Ruth." The moment broken, he turned to view the officers on the bridge, none of whom would give him eye contact. "I'm going to my quarters!"

"I should have brought another cart," moaned Jacob as the crew continued to pile packages into the wagon. "Any more packages and the axel will give way."

"Almost done," replied Gil.

Panther looked up and stopped loading packages. A vision floated before his eyes that stopped him dead in his tracks. Another black person! Not only another black person, but a female black person and a pretty one at that! She was with two white women and she turned just as Panther stood up, their eyes locking for a moment. She had the softest brown eyes he had ever seen. She smiled at him and Panther turned to Gil, "Gil, man, I'll be right back, don't leave without me."

Not waiting for Gil's reply, he moved between the carriages and made his way over to the woman, who shushed her girlfriends toward the market and stood waiting for him. Once he was in front of her, Panther had trouble thinking of anything to say.

"Well, hello," she offered.

"Yeah, hello," he agreed, sticking out his hand, which she took in her own. Her hand was so soft that he quickly released it, feeling if he did not, he might crush it.

"My name's Panther," he managed.

"Is that your given name?" she asked.

"No, my real name is Eddie, but everyone calls me Panther, cause I move like... a panther," he smiled.

"My name's Bethoosda," she replied.

"That's a lovely name," he stated.

"No it's not," she laughed. "It's a stupid name. When I was little my mother used to tell me it was Swahilli for "Precious Child" and then when she got religion she told me it was a righteous name meaning "Peaceful Flower". Finally she just admitted it was a mistake, the doctor asked her what she wanted to name me just before she passed out from giving birth and apparently she made a noise that sounded like Bethoosda, so he thought that was supposed to be my name. When she woke up, she was too embarrassed to change it, so I got stuck going through life named Bethoosda. My friend's, however, call me Anne."

Panther smiled, "Anne is a lovely name. Can I call you Anne?"

"You can call me anytime," she giggled.

"Panther," called out Gil, "We've got to get going."

Panther looked torn.

"Do you work here at the market?" she asked.

"No," he said quickly, "I'm just with some friends, you know, shopping and stuff. I don't work here."

"Well what do you do?" she asked.

"Well, uh..."

Anne laughed, "You're a pirate aren't you. I said a big strong man like that has got to be a pirate."

Panther nodded shyly.

"Honey, don't be ashamed of being a pirate," she laughed. "Being a pirate is just like being a plumber, all it means is that you have a steady income, good benefits and you lie about what time your going to show up, that's all. Bet you're shipping out, aren't you."

Panther looked crushed as he admitted, "Yeah. We have to go on a mission; I can't talk about it..."

"Cause you're a pirate," she finished. "Don't worry about it. I know the score, I dated a pirate once."

"But you're not dating him now," said Panther, slyly. "Are you dating anyone else?"

Anne became coy, "Well, that all depends on if you ask me out or not."

"Panther, I hate to be a bother, but we're going to be late for our meeting," called out Gil.

Panther gave him an annoyed glance, "I'd love to have dinner with you sometime, but I'm not exactly sure when I'll be back. Our mission shouldn't take more than a few days, a week at the most. Do you think you would remember me by then?"

Anne laughed, "I think I can keep you in mind for that long." Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a business card, "Here, I work out of my home, take my card and give me a call when you get back."

He read the card, "Anne's Animal Haven?"

"I groom people's animals and I have a kennel and stuff, but don't bring me any horses!" she laughed. "These Amish people are always trying to sneak a horse in on me, I don't do horses!"

Panther laughed, "I'm still getting used to the whole horse thing myself. I'm not used to watching where I step every hour of the day."

"Tell me about it," she replied. "I'm a woman who loves her shoes and this is no place for a person who loves shoes."

"Panther, I hate to be a bother..." started Gil.

"Go ahead," she said with a smile. "I understand, but I'll be expecting dinner as soon as you get back."

"You've got it," he laughed. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Anne."

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Eddie," she smiled at his quizzical look. "We'll see how smooth you move before I start calling you Panther."

With a blush, he ran to the carriage, checking to make sure her card was firmly in his hand. As he waved to Anne, the carriage jerked to life and they were off.

***

The men sat in the ship's lounge, contemplating the plan that Captain Galbard had laid out for the return of Gil and Julie's furniture.

"It makes sense to me," stated Captain Stanwich.

"You don't think we'll need a bigger crew?" asked Gil, his tubing creaking. He liked Galbard, but putting Julie's life, his own and the future of his furnishings into this man's hands was a big leap of faith.

"On this job, the less the better," stated Tardy. "We want to be in and out."

"So it will be your crew, Tardy and myself," stated Galbard firmly.

"And Yeoman Xiang," added Captain Stanwich.

Tardy and Galbard exchanged surprised glances.

"What do you mean, Yeoman Xiang?" asked Tardy.

"She called this morning and said that she was going and that you two had okayed it," replied Stanwich.

"Oh no she didn't," replied Galbard.

"Yes, she did," replied Stanwich, "I know it was her because when I answered the call, she said "Captain Stanwich?" and I said, "Yes," and she said, "This is Captain's Galbard's girlfriend, Yeoman Xiang. I'm just calling to tell you that I'll be coming on your mission with you," and I said, "Fine," and she said, "I'll see you later," and that was that."

"Girlfriend?" Galbard paled, "Tardy, she told him she was my girlfriend!"

"Well, if you sleep with a woman often enough and buy her presents and invite her to move into your cabin, chances are she might take that view of things."

"I think she's being a bit forward, don't you?" snapped Galbard.

Cardinal Benny rolled his eyes, "I don't think it's a good idea that Yeoman Xiang goes on the trip, Captain Galbard doesn't need the distraction."

"We could always tell her she should not come with us on this trip because it is a quick mission that is just too dangerous for her," replied Tardy.

Galbard considered it, "But then she'll pull that, "But you're taking Nicole," thing with me."

Tardy blushed as he glanced at Nicole, "Nicole is an integral part of this crew. She belongs here."

Nicole smiled sweetly, "And besides, Julie and I agreed that if we had a little extra time, there was some shopping we'd like to do."

Galbard blinked in disbelief, "Shopping? This is a military operation, my dear; they'll be no time for shopping. Did you ever heard of Genghis Khan stopping to check out a discount store after he wiped out a village? Or Blackbeard checking out the weekly circulars just prior to taking a ship? I don't want to be a meanie pants, but we can't afford for you two to get lost in a mall while we're trying to make our escape, I'm afraid that shopping can not be part of the plan."

"Meanie pants?" whispered Tardy.

"What's wrong with meanie pants?" asked Galbard.

"It's like yummy, it's hardly... piratey," replied Tardy.

"Piratey?" asked Galbard, "Is that even a word?"

"Annoying is a word," interrupted Cardinal Benny. "Now can we get back to the problem at hand?"

"Perhaps we should examine another plan," suggested Gil.

"Are you having second thoughts?" asked Julie.

"I'm not thrilled with the idea of bringing you and Nicole along. I'm sorry if that sounds sexist, but this will be exceedingly dangerous, the entire fleet is out looking for pirates in general and us in particular."

"Speaking of which, did you inform them of the change?" asked the Cardinal.

"What change," asked Gil. Gil had heard nothing about a change and he somehow knew that he would be against the change if he had been consulted.

"I'm sorry, I forgot." Galbard grimaced apologetically, "I hate to bring this up, Captain Stanwich, but I'm afraid that we have to change the name of your ship."

Stanwich looked alarmed, "Change the name of the Aurora?"

"Yes, you see, the entire fleet is looking for the Aurora," replied Galbard. "We don't want to tip our hand by showing up in a ship that they are looking for and if we sail up with the word "Aurora" emblazoned on the side of the ship, even the Planetary Forces will be able to put two and two together."

Stanwich considered it, "I understand. Of course, you're right, but what could we possibly rename the ship?"

"How about the "Homicidal Killing Machine" or the "Big Black Ship of Death"?" suggested Mad Matt.

"Good names," admitted Tardy, "but if they read that on the side of the ship, they might get suspicious."

"How about we name it after a planet, like "Comet"," suggested Don.

"Comet isn't a planet," stated Gil.

"Okay, then name it after a reindeer, like "Comet"," replied Don.

"No," replied Stanwich. "No, I think we need something dramatic and yet, ironic."

"Ironic?" asked Gil. "How can a ship name be ironic?"

"You know," replied Stanwich, "something like "The Fortunate Accident" or the "Tragic Happiness"."

"Those are horrible names," stated Julie.

"True, but they are ironic."

"I've got it!" snapped Panther. "How about, "The Intrepid Monkey"?"

They all stared at him, appalled.

"That's the dumbest name I ever heard of," stated Gil.

"Don't blame me," stated Panther, "you came up with it."

"Me???" Gil felt his tubing strain. It has been almost 10 minutes since he had been blamed for something and he had been lulled into a false sense of security.

"At the market," stated Panther. "You said, "oh, what an intrepid monkey," don't you remember? Well it's ironic and dramatic! Intrepid means fearless, which describes the crew and monkey is ironic because we don't have a monkey. See, it makes no sense at all!"

"The Intrepid Monkey," drawled Stanwich with a nod, "and it would only be fair that Gil name the ship the second time because we're partners and I named the ship the first time."

"I didn't suggest..." began Gil.

"Go along with it," whispered Julie.

"What?"

"Go along with it," replied Julie. "or we'll never get out of here. Besides, if we don't give the ship that name, the book's title will make no sense."

"Fine, the ship will now be known as the "Intrepid Monkey". Are there any other changes that have to be made?"

"No, that's it," replied Tardy. "I suggest we set a lift off time."

"We can be ready in two hours," stated Stanwich happily.

"Very well, the first flight of the pirate ship "Intrepid Monkey" will take place in two hours," stated the Cardinal. Pointing to Stanwich he said, "Get the name plate on the ship changed and you," he continued, pointing at Galbard, "find Yeoman Xiang and settle with her. Either she's on the mission or off, but get it settled. Now, everyone, let's get this show on the road!"

With that, the meeting broke up.

***

"I'm not entirely sure this is working, sir," stated Masterson quietly at the bi-hourly meeting.

"You have to give the trap time," stated Fitzpatrick, his eyes glued to the viewing screen.

"But sir, and excuse me if I'm wrong, isn't it highly unlikely that a pirate ship would attack our two decoys with seven hundred other ships lined up behind them, single file?" Masterson gestured towards the screen, "For all intents and purposes, if they came up behind us, they wouldn't even be able to make visual contact with the two decoys."

"So you're saying we should just let the decoys go and pray they can contact us in time when the pirates strike?" asked Fitzpatrick.

"Not exactly, sir," stated Masterson. "What I am suggesting is that we put tracking devices upon the ships. This way if they are attacked..." Masterson paused upon his superior's frown to correct himself, "when they are attacked, if the crews are unable to send out the distress signal, we can, of course, track them. In fact, sir, it would allow us to track the pirates to their home base where we can confront them..."

"And kill even more pirates!" finished Fitzpatrick with a flourish.

"Exactly, sir."

"It's so simple, so obvious, yet entirely brilliant," snapped Fitzpatrick. "I must have been somehow communicated this idea to you through telepathy or body language, Masterson. You're a good man, but this type of genius is typical of me alone."

Masterson forced a smile, "I suppose you conveyed your wishes mystically, as do all great commanders."

"You know what I say, Masterson," smiled Fitzpatrick, "if I have to tell you what to do, you are not listening to me!"

"Yes, sir, makes perfect sense."

Fitzpatrick's eyes glowed with an inner mania, "Tell me, Masterson, tell me, what am I thinking now?"

Masterson closed his eyes and simulated deep concentration, "A nap, sir. You are thinking that you want to take a nap."

"Excellent, Masterson, excellent. Now what am I thinking?"

"Perhaps a pit stop at the john on the way to bed would be a good idea?"

Fitzpatrick slapped him on the back, "You're a true disciple, Masterson, always said you were!" Putting a fatherly arm around his disciple's shoulders, Fitzpatrick led him towards the bridge's elevator. The doors opened and a young, attractive yeoman sidestepped them and proceeded onto the bridge. "Now what am I thinking, Masterson."

"That the yeoman would make a fine concubine in a harem of several hundred women," replied Masterson matter-of-factly.

"Close, Masterson, close," chuckled Fitzpatrick, "you didn't pick up on my thinking that she should be wearing a magic genie costume or that she should be capable of working a flying carpet."

"That's why you're the leader that you are, sir," smiled Masterson.

"Brilliance cannot always be understood, even by mind lock," replied Fitzpatrick over his shoulder as the elevator doors closed.

Turning to face the eager young faces that sought him out, Masterson merely gave them a sad smile, "If we're lucky, we won't come within 500 light years of any real pirates, because if we do, we'll have to follow Captain Crunch into battle and we can't hope to win."

"We'd probably have the numerical advantage," said an eager lieutenant.

"We'll be clumped together like a badly picked bouquet," replied Masterson.

"Perhaps if you spoke to someone higher up," suggested the helmsman.

"After the pudding incident, the whole crew would back you," stated the navigator.

"You're young, you don't quite understand." Masterson made his way to the commander's chair and sat down, motioning them to gather around him like the chorus in a musical when the star is ready to sing about his girl. "You see, only an idiot would put another idiot in charge of an expedition like this and that idiot would have to be a bigger idiot not to see that they were putting an idiot in charge. I could go to them and recite the pudding incident, the insane preparations, even the thought that the yeoman should be prepared to act like a genie and all of you could back me and we would be accused of being the troublemakers. No, ladies and gentlemen, we have to look for another way to protect ourselves and I think that I have it." The chorus grew closer as if preparing to sing the verse. "I want you to call a staff meeting for this afternoon with the captains of every vessel in the fleet. While the commander naps, we'll be making plans to save ourselves!"

***

Julie sat at her assigned place on the bridge, ready for lift off. Gil knew the look on her face, it was a look that said, "You must do something, Gil", but he also knew he had no idea of how to approach the situation.

Captain Stanwich had placed several more seats on the bridge to accommodate not only Julie and Gil, but Captain Galbard, Mr. Tardy and Yeoman Xiang. Gil could not help but note that Stanwich was overjoyed as they made their final preparations, this would be his chance to shine and he was going all out. Next to Galbard's chair, he had placed a table filled with donuts and he had placed Tardy's chair just behind Nicole's chair. Xiang sat between the two men, but she leaned heavily towards Galbard, which seemed to please them both, but not Julie.

As Julie had told Gil, she was not a prude, but it was her opinion that people, in the course of their daily preparation for work, should dress themselves. Of course, if they held jobs were the use of clothing was frowned upon, such as porn stars, lingerie models or congressional pages, she could make allowances like any reasonable person. The problem that she had presented to Gil, and for which he had no answer, was that he should give an address on this subject to Captain Galbard and Yeoman Xiang.

For his part, Gil easily conceded that Yeoman Xiang was not, in the truest sense, dressed. Indeed, micro bikinis seemed flamboyant in their use of material compared to what was called Yeoman Xiang's uniform, but he was hard put as to how bring up the subject and also as to how he could get the parties involved to agree to an acceptable compromise. Julie strongly felt that someone should suggest that the young lady attire herself more appropriately in mixed company and her suggestion that Gil support her in this placed Gil in the no win position that men had found themselves in for centuries.

As a married man, Gil was not allowed to look in Yeoman Xiang's direction, which he could handle, but to ask her to change her attire would mean that the crew, who were single and allowed to look in her direction, might kill him. Also, such a request might be seen as more prudish and less pirate-ish and as they were all trying to let their inner pirate out, the captain and crew could very well object to his opinion on that particular point.

Pondering his next move, Gil was sure that he heard his spleen hiccup and with lift off moments away, he feared the pressure of a changing atmosphere combined with his present stress level would place him in the hospital. Still, a trip to the hospital would not mean that Julie would change her mind on the subject and as soon as he recovered, he would undoubtedly find himself back were he had started.

"The inaugural flight of the Intrepid Monkey is about to begin," began Captain Stanwich solemnly. "Gil, as my partner, would you like to say anything on this momentous occasion?"

Julie looked at Gil expectantly as he stood and addressed the little group. "Both Julie and I are pleased to be here on this, the first flight of the Intrepid Monkey. With God's grace, long may she fly and with great, great success."

After robust applause, the group resumed their duties until the ship rocked gently and then lifted off, seeking out the blackness of space. It was just as they parted the atmosphere and had entered the darkness that signaled deep space that Gil found himself glowing with a slight inspiration.

Seated at her consol Nicole assisted her father diligently as he guided the ship deeper into the darkness. Behind her stood Tardy, a chastened hand gently touching her shoulder as they watched the stars slip by. Nudging Julie, he whispered, "I think I have an idea."

Julie followed his line of sight and shrugged, "You'll speak to Mr. Tardy about it?"

"Yes," he smiled, "he is the only sensible one, perhaps he could speak to Yeoman Xiang about her...style choices."

Julie scowled, "Do you think that is wise?"

Gil nodded excitedly, hoping to toss the problem on Tardy, "Trust me, I think this will work."

Chapter 11

In the engine room, Mad Matt looked at Panther with harsh eyes. "Her name is Bethoosda?" he asked.

"You didn't see her at the market?" asked Panther.

"I was under about fourteen dozen packages, I didn't see anyone," replied Mad Matt. "Her name is Bethoosda? What is that, Swahilli or something?"

"No, it's just a strange name," stated Panther, "but I can't get her out of my mind."

"I doubt I'll be able to either with a name like Bethoosda," replied Mad Matt.

"Forget about her name, she seemed really nice. She's the only black person I've met on the whole planet and she just seemed so, I don't know, you know?"

Mad Matt pondered it. "No, I have no idea what you mean. You like her because she's black?"

Panther rolled his eyes, "I like her because she seems really nice, she's really attractive and she seems to like me."

Mad Matt shook his head, it made no sense. "Why would she like you? Did you give her money or something?"

"No."

"Most women won't like you if you don't give them money. I had a girlfriend once but she was soooo expensive. It got to the point I just started mailing her money, it was cheaper than going out with her."

"I'm just worried that she might forget me before we get back."

"Did you laugh when she told you her name?"

"No," snapped Panther, "of course not."

"Then she won't forget you. If you didn't laugh when you heard her call herself Bethoosda, you'll stand out in her mind, that's for sure. Any normal human being would be doubled over with laughter."

"Would you stop with the Bethoosda thing? She said people call her Anne."

Mad Matt's head snapped back as if he had been slapped. "What? Anne? Now hold up, hold up, you're telling me people call her Anne?"

Panther frowned, "Yeah, Anne, why?"

"Something is wrong here," muttered Mad Matt. "You need to watch your step my friend, I think this woman is a con artist."

Panther became concerned, "What do you mean?"

"It is all very suspicious. First off, where do they get "Anne" from? There is no way that "Anne" is short for Bethoosda, so why do they call her "Anne"?"

Panther waved him off, "I don't know, maybe it's her middle name."

Mad Matt sat down and began in an authoritative tone, "Look, I've studied things like this and she has some explaining to do. If her mother was crazy enough to name her Bethoosda, there is no way that she gave her the middle name "Anne". Now if you said they called her Maggie, THAT would make sense, because her middle name is probably something like Maggooka, which anyone knows, could be shortened to Maggie, but Anne can't be an abbreviation of anything weird enough to go with Bethoosda."

"I heard of plenty of people who have weird first names who go by a normal middle name," replied Panther. "It happens all the time."

"You're ignoring the facts," replied Mad Matt. "If she were white, I would say fine, it makes sense, but she's black, so there is something fishy about it."

Panther approached angrily, "And just what the heck does that mean?"

Mad Matt gave him a pitying scowl, "As I said, I've made a study of these things. The only white people who give their children totally stupid names like Bethoosda are celebrities and they only do it to show that they are celebrities. How many white people have you heard of named Sunshine, or Flower? Only celebrity kids; celebrities only see the kids as extensions of themselves anyway, so they name the kid something crazy just to be arrogant, but they don't want to be accused of being totally arrogant, so they give the kid a regular middle name to save face. They also don't have the conviction or the guts to go through with the thing the whole way because they know eventually the kid will write a tell all book about them in which it will be revealed that they were totally crappy parents, so they try to look good to people by giving the kid a regular middle name."

"Okaay," drawled Panther, "I see what you're saying..."

"Now black people are different," continued Mad Matt. "See, when a black person gives their kid a name like Bethoosda, they are actually trying to acknowledge that the kid is a special, unique individual, they actually want the name to separate their kid from the pack, so they go all the way. Now at any moment, there might be 20 black women who heard someone, somewhere say, "Isn't Bethoosda a pretty name?" and so the next kid they have is going to be named Bethoosda, but that also means that any Tom, Dick or Harry might be named Bethoosda, so rather than take a chance, they are going to kick the craziness to the middle name as well, just in case. See, there might be twenty Bethoosda Anne's running around if the name gets popular, but there is only going to be one Bethoosda Magooka and I guarantee you, she isn't some little white celebrity's kid, she's black and proud of it."

Placing a hand on Panther's shoulder, he continued with conviction, "So when you say an attractive black woman whose name is Bethoosda tells you to call her Anne and you think it's her middle name, I know something is wrong."

Panther pondered the wisdom of this.

"Are you taking any medication?" Panther asked.

"I don't take medication," replied Mad Matt. "Sure, they prescribe it, but they're not fooling me. I know that they just want to make me part of the vicious economic-social-psychotic rejecting- hate cycle that is healthcare."

Panther nodded slowly as if in agreement as he backed away and edged towards the door. Once he was out in the corridor, he scolded himself. Hadn't he told himself at least a hundred times not to walk around a ship full of crazy white people without being armed, hadn't he???

"Oh, noooo, my brother," he murmured to himself, heading towards the armory, "you are getting a pocket mazer and you are keeping it on you at all times from now on!"

***

Caucasian Tim stood on the bridge of his ship, "The Vicious Eel" and squinted at the view screen, not quite sure what to make of what he was seeing. Round, bald and dressed in little better than rags, Tim was known as a top notch captain, but bizarre in a don't-let-him-touch-the-baby type of way. There was something inherently untrustworthy about him, though no one could state that they had ever been cheated by him or that he had ever worked for the Home Shopping Network selling jewelry.

"What do you make of it Squabby?" he asked.

Mr. Squabby, his first mate and comrade in arms stared out at their shared view of space, not sure what to think. Short, squat, with a fringe of wild black hair, Squabby was not the swiftest or ablest first mate, but he was loyal and willing, making him ideal for duty on "The Vicious Eel".

"Perhaps it's a parade," he ventured.

"A parade in space?" asked Caucasian Tim.

"Maybe it is a promotional parade," suggested Squabby. "Maybe a parade sponsored by Negreat."

"Why would you have a promotional anything in the middle of space?" asked Tim. "Who would see it? And why would it consist of only two promotional ships followed by the entire planetary fleet?"

"Sensors say that there are at least six hundred ships following those two vessels, maybe they are filled with people watching the parade. With the cost of fuel, maybe they could only afford to make the parade two ships long..."

Tim pondered it, eventually rejecting the idea. He saw that he would have to search for a logical answer in his own mind where the chances of success were about as good as finding an underwear sale at the Louvre.

"Helm, are we within range of being scanned?" asked Tim.

The helmsman checked coordinates, "No sir, not yet."

"So we can see them, but they can't see us yet?"

"That's correct," replied the helmsman.

Lowering himself into the captain's chair, Tim tried to think. "I don't get it. I smell a trap..."

"But Captain, we've got our "agreement" to think about," whispered Squabby.

Caucasian Tim grimaced, "We don't speak about the "agreement" in the open, Squabby, hold your tongue."

Squabby stepped backed with a wounded air. The only people who knew about the "agreement" were the crew of "The Vicious Eel"; it was their own little sideline, so why should they keep quiet about it on board?

The "agreement" had come to Caucasian Tim during a drinking binge; a man in a bar came up to him and made him an offer. If he could find a place for the man to set up shop, he and the crew of the Vicious Eel would be well compensated. After Caucasian Tim had arranged to transport the man and his factory to an "uninhabited" planet, the Vicious Eel had been busy supplying him as well as doing its regular runs for Cardinal Benny. No one said anything because everyone was making a nice profit on their little sideline.

It had been about eight months into their little "deal" when the man had asked if some of his colleagues could also set up shop on the planet. By then the money was pouring in and Caucasian Tim and his crew could not say "no".

The whole business had been running splendidly when the icing on the cake had come their way. The man had asked him if during his excursions, if he came across any Negreat, the man would pay him top dollar for the shipment. The fellow was a Negreat fanatic, unable to get enough of the stuff. With each raid, Caucasian Tim and his crew had stolen larger and larger quantities of Negreat and the "agreement" had become even more incredibly lucrative. With the stop off on the "uninhabited" planet right on the other side of Zooks, Caucasian Tim could maneuver his ship so that no one ever suspected a thing. Cardinal Benny, the other captains, everyone was in the dark about their lucrative little sideline.

"Can you scan the two Negreat ships?" asked Tim.

"Yes captain," replied the woman at the sensor console. "Sensors indicate they are two cargo ships filled to the brim with a cargo of Negreat Tanning Lotion."

Murmurs exploded about the bridge; here was a haul worth billions.

Caucasian Tim still didn't like the set up, "Those other ships are there for a reason. I don't know what it is, but we don't make a move until we figure it out."

"I have an idea, captain," stated the helmsman. "Maybe we could distract the other ships while we plunder the two cargo ships."

The crew murmured general agreement.

"It's not a bad plan," drawled Tim, "but what could we do to divert six hundred ships?"

"Over six hundred," corrected Squabby, "we don't have a final head count yet."

"Fine," replied Caucasian Tim, with a roll of his eyes, "over six hundred ships."

"Explosions usually do the trick," replied the helmsman. "If we could somehow blow up one of the ships in the middle, it might distract them long enough for us to get in and get the booty!"

"Too risky," replied Tim. "They might see us blow up the ship and then we'd have six hundred..."

"Over six hundred," corrected Squabby.

"Over six hundred," replied Tim, "ships coming after us. No, we need to think this through, to come up with a plan that will distract them, get us the necessary time and let us get out with minimum risk." Caucasian Tim leaned back in his chair, "Keep us out of sensor range. In the meantime, I'll think."

***

"We'll be in range soon," announced Nicole quietly. "Does everyone know what they have to do?"

"It will be simple," stated Captain Stanwich. "You, Julie, Gil, Captain Galbard, Mister Tardy and I take one of the pincer ships down to the heart of the city and hide it in the park, rent a van, pick up the furniture, return to the pincer ship, return to the ship and get out of here before anyone knows we've even visited."

"Aren't you going to return the van?" asked Don.

"We're pirates now," growled Mad Matt. "We take the van and let the late fees fall where they may!"

"The most critical time will be when we approach the planet," stated Galbard. "They will be looking for the Aurora, so remember, let Nicole do all the talking when they contact us."

"I'm not sure that the story you've given Nicole to tell is a good one," stated Gil. "I mean, I know you know more about this than I do, but it really sounds a bit far fetched."

"Trust me, Gil," smiled Galbard reassuringly, "it will work like a charm. These people hate paperwork and Nicole's story means a lot of it! We'll be through in no time at all."

A light on the console before Nicole began to flash, "We're being hailed!"

"Just remain calm," whispered Tardy. "Remember the story, you'll be great!"

A voice poured in over the speaker, "This is air and space control. We are speaking to the unidentified ship that has just entered range, please state your name and intention."

Nicole cleared her throat and replied, "This is the Intrepid Monkey. We are returning from a cruise of Orion and would like to establish a position from which to send down a landing ship."

"What is the purpose of the landing ship's visit?" asked the voice.

"We'd like to do some shopping," replied Nicole.

There was a pause, "We have no record of a ship, The Intrepid Monkey cruising from Orion."

"Well, it wasn't called the Intrepid Monkey when we went to Orion," laughed Nicole. "It was called something else."

"You purchase the ship on Orion?" asked the voice.

"We won it playing pinochle."

A silence followed, "You won the ship playing pinochle?"

"Yes," replied Nicole, "I had named diamonds trump, but I didn't have a book, I only had the ace, ten, king and queen and my partner..."

"Never mind, never mind," replied the voice. "Fine, just establish your position at the coordinates that we are sending you and report to the space office within twenty four hours to confirm your destinations once you have landed."

"Thank you," replied Nicole, switching the line off. "It worked!"

"Of course it worked," smiled Galbard.

"I still don't understand it," stated Gil.

"It's simple," stated Tardy. "If you won a ship, they would have to record who lost it, why they bet a ship, why you accepted the bet, the paperwork would take a week for them to fill out. It's a nightmare for the controllers; they hate paperwork, so whenever possible they avoid it. It's easier to put you down as some other ship and let you go shopping. We pirates always say that we won ships playing pinochle because so few people really know how to play pinochle. If you were to say that you won it playing blackjack or poker, you might get someone who wants to talk about what a great player they are, so we always say pinochle."

"That's ridiculous," replied Gil. "No one ever questions that? I can't believe it."

"Sometimes we get questioned," replied Galbard, "but not often. Too much time, they have mandatory break times, they can't mess that up to do work."

"We are wasting time," interrupted Captain Stanwich. "Let us get your furniture and get out of here."

"Good point," agreed Julie.

With that, the group began moving off the bridge.

"Mad Matt," stated Captain Stanwich, "remember, Yeoman Xiang is in command until we get back. She is the only experience pirate aboard!"

"Don't worry about it," replied Mad Matt. "I won't kill anyone until she gives the word!"

***

"Settle down, settle down," called out Masterson. "We don't know how long he'll be asleep, now quiet down."

The massive room became silent as captains and their first officers took their places and sat down. "As we know, we are currently seeking pirate ships and the pirate planet under the command of Captain Fitzpatrick. I think we are agreed that while the concept has its merits, the reality is something less than helpful. Therefore, we need to change the reality."

"What are you suggesting, sir?" asked a young officer.

Masterson eyed the young man with disinterest. "What I am suggesting is that we lose the two Negreat ships."

The group broke out into a low murmur. "Sub Commander Masterson," began the captain of the warship Boom, "I understand that Commander Fitzpatrick is, for lack of a better term, nuts, but how can we, seven hundred ships of the line, say that we lost two ships that all seven hundred of us are supposed to be watching?" A murmur of agreement rose from the group.

"A valid point," replied Masterson, "but one I think we can overcome." Masterson lowered the lights and directed their attention to the viewing screen. "As we know, the two ships both currently maintain four crew members each. Now if we said, for instance, that there was a meeting of officers on the command ship that everyone must attend, that wouldn't work because that would leave two men on board each ship and we don't want to leave anyone behind. Remember, no one gets out of this unless we all get out of it."

Clicking a concealed button, a three dimensional image of the ships appeared before the screens. "Now as you can see, these are category eight vessels, which means that they're incredibly badly made."

"I owned a category eight ship and it was junk!" agreed an officer at the back of the room enthusiastically.

"They really are crap," agreed another.

"Death traps," replied a third.

"Settle down," called out Masterson. "Now, all we have to do is have the crews start a fire on board the ships and evacuate. Once they are all off the ships, we remotely launch them into interplanetary speed and send them crashing into some far off planet somewhere." A murmur of approval rose from the group.

"But won't that just delay Commander Fitzpatrick?" asked the captain of the warship Kapow. "I mean, he'll just get another two ships and we'll all be out here again."

"You forget, it is an election year. The media is already telling people what to think. We've been here a week, I'm sure they've already started in on the old, "we support the troops, but the war is unjust" non-sense and we all know that what the media says is most important whether it is based on reality or not! So this is what I need you all to do, write home to your loved ones and tell them that all sorts of people are being killed and that this war has to end."

"But sir, no one has fired a shot."

Masterson shook his head in disgust, "What has that got to do with it? We just need a dead person."

Everyone avoided eye contact, maybe Fitzpatrick wasn't the only lunatic they were dealing with.

Masterson continued, "No, no, what I mean is that what we need is for someone who had something to do with this whole armada to die, an elderly mechanic, a maintenance guy with a bad heart..."

"You mean like Jim?" asked a voice in the back of the room.

Masterson froze. "Who is Jim?"

"Jim Andrews, he was an old man who used to clean up back at the base," continued the voice. "He died two hours before our ships departed."

"Do you know what he died of?" asked Masterson, feeling the audacity of hope rising in his chest.

"He was about five foot tall and over 300 pounds," replied the voice. "That and the fact that he drank like a fish and smoked all day. He was only 58, but he looked like he was about 80."

"Perfect," smiled Masterson. "Perfect! He's our man. I want all of you to order black armbands be worn by your crews for Jim Andrews. Next, we need a highly publicized memorial service and finally a press statement explaining that Jim died for his country. Something along the lines of "While he struggled with multiple hardships in his personal life, Jim Andrews continued to come to work, doggedly doing his job so that the fleet would be ready on time. His dedication made it possible for the war to continue and he is its first casualty. How many more must die before this cruel venture is ended..." yada, yada, yada, you get the picture. Did he have any endearing traits?"

"He was a drunk," someone called out, "and a nasty one at that."

"That could be a plus," replied Masterson. "Change nasty to hard boiled and drunk to hard drinking son of a gun and we're on to something. Was he a leader of men?"

"He couldn't find the head most of the time," called out another voice. "He got suspended for peeing on the bushes outside the hanger about twenty times..."

Masterson shook his head, "He wouldn't kowtow to the brass, he got suspended for being his own man and taking on the big wigs, what else?"

"He had no teeth and he smelled bad," called out someone else.

"He had a flawed beauty and flaunted convention; also he was an environmentalist, conserving water to save the environment."

"He used to save his beer bottles until he had about 1000 of them and then he would bring them in an old shopping cart to the recycling plant to get the four dollar deposit per bottle."

"He was thrifty, an eccentric who saved his money for...for what?"

"He used to take the money and buy more beer," called out another voice.

"He saved his money and bought his own supplies!"

"This is crazy," called out a voice. "You want to take an overweight, smelly drunk and make him a martyr?"

"Overweight smelly drunks are the manure from which springs the roses of "based on a true story" movies my friend, and don't you forget that," snapped Masterson. "We go with Jim Andrews as our martyr. Now get some people over to the Negreat ships and let's get this show on the road!"

Chapter 12

"Why did you land in the middle of a lake?" asked Gil, paddling the inflatable raft angrily. His felt his tubing creak in a most unpleasant manner.

"I saw a movie once," replied Stanwich, a manic gleam in his eye. "If you don't land in the middle of the water, monkeys come and take your ship. Then they go back into the past and blow up the future!"

"Dad, I've asked you not to watch the classic movie channel," said Nicky. Turning to the others, she continued, "Once, for two whole weeks, he tried to get a pig to herd sheep."

"How are we going to get the furniture into the ship?" asked Julie. "We can't row it out on this raft."

"Not to worry," replied the Captain. "Once we have the moving truck lakeside, I'll row back to the ship and come and pick you up."

"Won't the authorities mind having a pincer ship bobbing up and down in the middle of one of their lakes in the middle of the park?" asked Gil. He would never make it past forty with these people; they would kill him young for sure.

"Don't worry," whispered Tardy, "we contacted the Parks Department. We disguised ourselves as members of the mayor's council on the arts and told them that it was an art project for the city."

"That's ridiculous," whispered Nicky.

"Painted cows in the financial district is ridiculous," replied Galbard, "pincer ships from a garbage scow parked in the middle of a lake is a symbolic example of man's disregard for the environment."

"Won't people be drawn to it if it is considered art?" asked Gil.

Galbard waved him off, "Of course not. The only people who go to see art in the park during a cold October are those people who don't or can't afford to start their Christmas shopping early. Either that or it's some school teacher who secretly hates teaching so they pack their kids off on field trips and hope to lose a few of them!"

"Either way," intoned Tardy, "from this point on, our objective is to blend into the background. We don't want to be noticed. We want no one to see us and we want to see nobody, so no contacting old friends, no stopping to chat if you recognize someone in the crowd. Stealth and secrecy are our friends, understood?"

"Yes," replied everyone.

"Now does everyone remember the plan?"

Julie began, "We all go to the apartment and make sure the coast is clear. Nicky, Gil and I stay at the apartment and begin packing. The two captains and you will go and rent the moving van. Hopefully by the time you return, everything will be packed and we can get it all in the van and leave."

Captain Stanwich took up the narrative, "Once we have everything in the van, we'll go by an indirect route to the lake. I will row out and get the ship, pick up the van and we're off to the Intrepid Monkey."

"And once we're on the Intrepid Monkey, back to Zooks to deal with the fleet that's looking to kill us all," finished up Galbard triumphantly. "Everything is set."

"Very well," stated Tardy as the raft slid onto the shore, "let's get a move on. We don't want to spend too much time here."

***

Yeoman Xiang looked wistfully at the viewing screen and gave a sigh. Mad Matt shrugged, burped and announced, "I'm going back to engineering. I don't think Panther fully understands the danger he's in." Stopping at the door he eyed those on the bridge, "Remember, if anyone needs killing, I was first in my class."

Xiang raised an eyebrow. "Don, you have the pincer ships coordinates, in case there is any problem?"

"Yes ma,am," replied Don, "in the computer."

"And Chester, the finder locators are working for each person?" Chester nodded, saying nothing.

Xiang smiled, Chester was so shy, he never spoke in front of her. "Are you alright, Chester? You're not nervous are you?"

Chester shook his head, "No ma'am."

Xiang eased into the Captain's chair. "It's okay to be nervous. We are on a dangerous mission. Even though I've been on my share of dangerous missions, I still get nervous."

Don stood up and lumbered to the elevator, "I'm going to get something to eat, we might be here a while. I heard Julie say she has a lot of china. Do you guys want anything?"

Chester shook his head no.

"No, thank you," replied Xiang.

Don shrugged and disappeared into the elevator, wondering if there was any chance of getting the food processor to make him some spam sandwiches.

Chester checked a few things on the scanners and then turned to go. Stopping at the elevator door, he changed his mind and slowly gravitated back towards Xiang. He stood next to her quietly for a time until she looked up at him with questioning eyes. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked softly.

Xiang burst into tears.

***

"They're abandoning the ships!"

Caucasian Tim jumped at the sound of Mr. Squabby's voice. He had been deep in thought right up to the point at which he had nodded off. Blinking wildly, he stared at the view screen as the shuttles moved slowly from them. "What the...

"Sensors say they're empty, Captain," barked the navigator.

"A trap you suppose?" asked Tim.

"It has all the earmarks of one," whispered Squabby, doing his best to simulate thought.

"A fortune in Negreat for the taking and we can't be sure of their intentions," mumbled Tim. "Do the scanners show anything else?"

"They've placed the ships on remote control," replied the helmsman.

"That's it!" snapped Tim. "Can we take over control of the ships remotely?"

"Not from this range," replied the helmsman. "We'd have to get close enough to them that the armada would be able to see us." Caucasian Tim looked at him blankly, "The ships. Armada is a bunch of ships."

"Oh," replied Tim. "I thought you meant an oven, which made no sense whatsoever."

"I have a Tappan," stated the helmsman. Everyone looked at him oddly, "A Tappan oven," he explained, "I like it, but sometimes, during the holidays..."

"My grandmother had a Tappan oven," smiled Squabby, "it was a hideous avocado green."

"I bet the food tasted good though," remarked the navigator.

"No," stated Squabby, his face taking on the look of sad memory, "all my grandmothers food tasted like the inside of a sneaker."

"Can anyone tell me what they are doing over on the Negreat ships?" interrupted Tim.

"The ships engines seem to be powering up," stated the man working the sensors. "I don't know where they're sending them, but they're preparing to launch them somewhere."

"Captain," interrupted Chief Engineer Emerson, "I could calculate the ship's trajectory and possibly simulate their flight pattern."

Tim shook his head angrily. Placed his fists on his hips, he announced in as authoritative voice as he could muster, "I'm sick and tired of you speaking that stupid technical language or whatever it is you call it. The next person who speaks some foreign language will be thrown off the bridge. I am sick and tired of people coming here from foreign lands and speaking gibberish. If you can't speak the language, stay in your own country until you can or get a job that doesn't require you to speak, like a bus boy or a husband, but don't come on my bridge and start speaking your gobbly gook language..."

"Captain," interrupted Squabby, "the ships are moving!"

"I was merely saying, Captain..." began the Chief Engineer.

"Tut, tut," replied the Captain, "I have a problem here and I need to concentrate on it instead of your loopy "I got a trajectory" language."

***

Gil led the way up the familiar stairs towards their apartment. So many nights he had trudged home, his only wish to make it up the stairs and to see his Julie and now he was sneaking up those same stairs trying to be unnoticed. Funny how easy it had been to remain unnoticed when he had lived here, now he felt as if every eye was upon him. When he lived here, no one cared who he was but now...

From the landing below, he could see that their apartment door had a big X across it formed by bright yellow police tape. His tubing creaked audibly. What if the police were waiting in the apartment? He squinted harder, no; he could not see any signs of anyone being there. The door looked as if it had been closed for quite some time.

"There's no one there," he whispered. "It is closed off with some tape, but I can't see anything else."

Captain Galbard stealthily passed him on the stair and made his way to the door, examining it carefully. Turning, he pulled the tape off and motioned to them to follow.

The door next to Julie and Gil's apartment suddenly swung open, "Julie, is that you?" The voice was a harsh whine which caused all but Julie to jump. An elderly lady stuck her head into the hallway. "Julie, it is you!"

"Hello, Phyllis," replied Julie politely, making her way through the group on the stairs. "Good to see you again."

"What's going on?" asked Phyllis, blinking at the others in the hall. "You haven't been here in months and the police were here..."

"It's only been a few weeks," laughed Julie. "Gil and I went away on vacation..."

"But the police came and searched your apartment..."

"Our alarm went off while we were away," explained Julie. "The police said there was a short in the wiring and they didn't want it to keep going off so they made it look like something happened here to discourage burglars."

"How clever," frowned Phyllis. "Personally, I always thought policemen were the biggest idiots. My grandson is a policeman and the only reason they took him was that he spent most of his time at the station house anyway, so they figured he might as well work there. My poor daughter, what she went through, the boy's father, her husband, was a gambler. He would bet on anything, he even played the state lottery, he was completely depraved, God rest his soul..."

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Julie sympathetically.

"Oh, he didn't die," replied Phyllis, matter-of-factly, "I'm just practicing for when he does, and he will, you mark my words! You can't live like that without something terrible happening to you!"

"I'm sorry Phyllis, I have a lot of work to do..."

"Oh, who are all of your friends?" asked Phyllis, eyeing Nicky and the men on the stairs with suspicion.

"We're donating our furniture," chuckled Gil uncomfortably. "These men are from the retired spaceman's home and they are here to pick up our donation."

"Really," drawled Phyllis. "They have girls at the retired spaceman's home?"

"I volunteer," replied Nicky with a smile.

"How nice," replied Phyllis, giving the impression that she did not think it nice in the least. "I have some things I'd like to donate."

"Well ma'am, perhaps we could look at them after we go and get our truck," stated Tardy, nudging Galbard and Stanwich to follow him out.

"I've got a genuine plate from Macy's," replied Phyllis haughtily, "not a cheap imitation. I might donate that, and then I have a scratching post for my cat, Tippy, that she only used for a short time before we had to put her down..."

"I never knew you had a cat," said Julie.

"Oh, Tippy's been dead for twenty three years my dear, but I couldn't bare to part with her things until now. Oh, I also have a copies of every Ladies Home Journal for the last thirty seven years..."

"We'd be delighted to take all of them," smiled Tardy, "but we have to go and get the truck now. We'll be back in about a half hour."

"I have a hair appointment at 5pm," replied Phyllis.

"Well, it's just 9:30 now," replied Captain Stanwich, "so we should be able to take the items before that..."

"And I might go shopping at some point. I need eggs..."

"Perhaps we could schedule an appointment for a more convenient time," smiled Galbard as the other two began to back down the stairs.

"I'll get your number from Julie," stated Phyllis, as Gil, Julie and Nicole slipped into the apartment.

"Wonderful, we'll be in touch," replied Galbard, sprinting down the stairs.

Phyllis looked about the empty hall and gave a sigh, everyone was in such a hurry now a days. Was she really ready to give up Tippy's scratching post? She considered donating her husband's tools instead. He only broke everything anyway...

***

"Why wasn't I summoned?" demanded Fitzpatrick.

"There wasn't time, sir," replied Masterson in a monotone, "the crisis was upon us and..."

"Look!" screeched Fitzpatrick. "Helmsman, who is that?"

The helmsman jumped and quickly began viewing his sensors. Fitzpatrick had been screaming for the last ten minutes and he had no idea that he would address him. "Uhm, seems to be an unidentified ship closing on the two Negreat vessels, commander."

"Pirates!" bellowed Fitzpatrick. "It has to be! Are all of our ships accounted for?"

"Most of them, sir," replied Masterson. "It's a lot of ships to count. It's hard to be accurate..."

They watched as the two Negreat ships slipped away, disappearing into space, the unidentified vessel right behind them. "Prepare to follow them!" screamed Fitzpatrick.

"Prepare to follow them," stated Masterson quietly to the helmsman, "it's what Jim Andrews would have wanted us to do."

Fitzpatrick spun to look at his second in command, "Jim Andrews? Who the devil is Jim Andrews?"

Masterson eyed him coldly, "Our first war casualty, sir. Jim Andrews."

Fitzpatrick turned towards the navigator, "Lock us into a course and get us out of here. If we've had a casualty, the press will shut this whole thing down in a matter of days."

"A war with casualties," murmured Masterson, "it won't be popular, sir. It won't be pretty."

"You don't have to tell me, Masterson," replied Fitzpatrick. "We have one of two choices here. End this thing early and get out with our reputations, or slaughter a ridiculous amount of people and point to our kill ratio as justification, either way; we won't know how to play it until we track down those pirates."

"I've already sent a telegram to Jim Andrew's people, sir," stated Masterson. "Extolling his virtues, speaking of his contribution to the cause..."

"How did he die?" asked Fitzpatrick, obviously moved.

"He was a drunk, sir," replied the helmsman before anyone could stop him.

Fitzpatrick stepped forwards and slapped the helmsman in the head, "Don't you dare insult our beloved dead, soldier. I don't care if he had an unnatural interest in midgets, the man died for the cause and don't you forget it!"

"Sorry, sir," replied the helmsman.

"A hard drinking, hard working son of a gun," murmured Masterson reverently.

Fitzpatrick's eye's lit with an inner fire, "Are you seeing what I'm seeing, Masterson?"

"If you're seeing a "based on a true story" movie, sir, I would say, yes," smiled Masterson.

Fitzpatrick glowed, "Who do you think they'll get to play me, Masterson?"

Masterson gave a sweet, slight smile, "I'm not sure, sir. Let's call central casting and see who would be appropriate..."

***

"I think that's the last of it," stated Tardy as his eyes scanned the living room.

Julie gave a small sigh and walked towards the bedroom. Gil gave Tardy a nod and followed her. Standing in the middle of what had been their bedroom, she looked small and fragile.

Gil put his arms around her, "Don't worry dear, it will all be alright. It is always a bit frightening to start something new, but we'll be fine. We took the big first step, now the rest of it is the small details."

Julie gave him a sad smile, "It's a big chunk of our lives, Gil. We spent a big chunk of our lives here. Every day you would leave for work and every night you would come home and we'd watch television and talk and read and...live."

Gil kissed her softly, "I know you will miss our routine, darling, but we'll have a new routine and you like our little house."

Julie wiped away a tear, "It is a pretty little cottage..."

"You made it a pretty little cottage; you made it a home, our home..."

"I can't wait to get back there," stated Julie, the excitement growing in her voice. "Wait until I get our furniture and things in place, it will be a glorious home..."

"And we have the garden and the yard. Won't it be nice to invite our friends over for a barbeque?" smiled Gil.

Julie's eyes lit up, "Gil, we have friends!"

Gil looked at her, not understanding, "We always had..."

"No we didn't. Let's be honest, Gil, the people we called friends were never really our friends. The people you knew from work and the girls I knew from helping out at the church, they were nice people, but now, we've got real friends. Can you imagine Ted from accounting help us to move? Real friends help you steal back your belongings from the authorities when you become an outlaw."

"I never thought of it that way," replied Gil. "I suppose none of your bingo pals would have lifted a finger to help us pack had they known what we were up to..."

"Not one," replied Julie. "No, they would have been very judgmental, I'm sure, but the two captains, and Mr. Tardy and Nicole and the crew, all they wanted to do was help us. That's what real friends do; they're there when you need help."

"You're right," replied Gil, "and they don't judge you for stealing your things back from the authorities. I could just imagine pompous Ted from accounting, "You know, Gil, this is illegal,"... idiot! You don't hear Captain Stanwich saying that do you?"

"No," smiled Julie, "he's too busy wondering what to call an animal with a lions head and a bunny's body."

"It's a perfectly respectable pastime," countered Gil. "He's not hurting anybody..."

"Except perhaps the bunny," replied Julie. "That's a lot of head to carry around on such a little neck."

"You have to reconfigure the neck," replied Gil as he led her gently out of the room, "you just can't mash them together..."

***

Sergeant Wilson drew his deeply lined, red face closer to the security console that he was monitoring and stared at the blinking light. "Polizzi," he called over the wireless, "Officer Polizzi, do you read me?"

"Officer Polizzi here," crackled the response.

"I'm showing activity in Apartment 4K in building 51."

There was a moment of silence, followed by a quiet, "Well, that's nice."

"No it's not nice, Polizzi," replied the sergeant. "We've sealed that apartment; the people who used to live in it are now outlaws. Someone or something has broken in, so go and check it out."

"I would love to, sergeant, but my shift will be ending soon," came the reply.

Wilson jerked upright in his chair as if he'd been slapped, "What do you mean your shift is ending soon? You've got 6 more hours to go!"

A resigned sigh came back over the wireless, "Look, sarge, figure it out. Say I go over there and say I find something or someone there. First I have to find out why they're there and then I have to check out their story. Does it fit? Are they telling the truth? That's going to take at least an hour. Then I might have to arrest them. What if there is more than one person? Then I have to call for back up, which will take at least another half hour to an hour because you know how fast everyone moves when an arrest has to be made. Back up comes and we arrest them, then we have to wait for the wagon to pick us all up and deliver us to central booking, which means an hour wait for the wagon because this is their busy season. Another hour to get down to central and an hour to process whoever it is, more if there are more than one of them, that's six hours and I haven't even gotten to the writing of the report. Now I can go over there for you, sarge, but do you want to have to pay me overtime and have the commissioner breathing down your neck or do you want to send someone else?"

Wilson considered it, "Johnson just came on shift..."

"Then Johnson is your man," replied Polizzi. "Look, I'm going to lunch, so please don't call for an hour or so."

"Of course," replied Wilson. "Sorry to have bothered you."

"No bother," replied Polizzi, "feel free to call anytime, Sarge, I'm here to help."

"You're a good man, Polizzi," replied the sergeant, "I won't forget your kindness."

"For you, Sarge, anything."

Wilson smiled, Polizzi was a stand up guy. Switching frequencies he barked, "Johnson, stop your lollygagging and get over to apartment 4K in building 51, we have a break in!"

Chapter 13

"Gil?" Julie stepped out of the truck cabin and came to the back of the truck where Gil, Mr. Tardy and the two captains stood, rolling down the back door. "I don't remember if we took the blankets out of the crawl space."

Gil frowned, "I'm not sure, I'll go check."

"I'll go," said Nicky, stepping down from the front of the truck.

"I'll go with you," said Julie. Gil knew she wanted one last chance to see the old place before they left.

"Please hurry," said Tardy.

"Don't worry, it won't take a minute," replied Julie as she and Nicole disappeared into the building.

"It's a good thing we got the extended cab truck," stated Captain Stanwich. "We'd have never fit all of us in a regular one."

"Well, we'll be out of here in a minute and headed back to Zooks in an hour," stated Galbard.

"You realize once we get there that we have an invasion force to worry about," said Tardy.

Galbard replied with a wave of his hand, "Not to worry. As long as they're not carrying flamethrowers, my plan is foolproof."

Gil wasn't sure if it was his tubing, but he thought he heard something. It took a moment, but he realized his tubing was actually creaking intuitively in reaction to having heard something, even before his ears had made sense of what he had heard.

"A police siren."

"It probably isn't for us," replied Galbard.

"What are the odds," smiled Stanwich.

Peering over their shoulders, Tardy's expression became hard, "Get in the truck, everyone, in the truck!"

The men scrambled into the truck, Tardy and Stanwich in the back seat, Gil and Galbard in the front.

"Oh crap," said Galbard between clenched teeth, "he's stopping here."

"We could take him," murmured Tardy.

"He might have backup on the way," Galbard replied. "Let's sit tight, no need to panic. He hasn't given any indication that he's here because of us, he hasn't even looked at the truck."

The police officer scanned the street and then made his way into the door of the apartment building. "Move over here and start the truck," murmured Galbard to Gil. "I'm going in."

"No," replied Gil, "I'll go in, that's Julie in there."

"No," interrupted Tardy, "I'll go in, that's Nicole in there."

"No," stated Captain Stanwich, "I'll go in, Nicole is my daughter."

"No," repeated Gil, "I'll go in, Julie is my wife!"

"No," replied Galbard, "I'll go in, Julie is my wife."

They all stopped.

"Okay," replied Galbard, "Julie isn't my wife, but I was feeling left out, okay, I admit it. Do you think it is easy being the Romeo of the group? Juggling women, endless, casual sex, the lies, the deceit? Let me tell you, an orgy covers many a broken heart..."

"Oh shut up," replied Gil, "Look!"

The men watched as policemen began flooding the area. "Start the truck and let's get out of here," hissed Tardy.

"We can't leave them," snapped Gil.

"We can't help them if we get arrested too," replied Galbard.

Gil felt his heart breaking as Julie and Nicole were hustled out of the building surrounded by policemen. Captain Galbard started the truck and slowly pulled away from the curb. Captain Stanwich looked sadly out the side window, for the first time in weeks, he couldn't think of what a lion's head would have looked like on a bunny's body if he had been paid to do so.

***

"We're being followed, Captain," the helmsmen reported.

"What makes you think so?" asked Caucasian Tim, distracted as he watched his chief engineer trying to get a lock on the Negreat ships.

"It's a little hard to miss six hundred plus ships following you," replied the helmsman.

"Seven hundred," corrected Squabby. "There are seven hundred of them, the computer finished the count."

"I've got the remote codes, Captain," snapped the chief engineer. "Where do you want the Negreat ships to go?"

Tim considered it, "Send them towards home. If we play this thing right, we'll be long gone before the fireworks begin."

***

Mad Matt paced the bridge of the Intrepid Monkey with the keen feeling that something was going wrong. It had been hours since the landing party had checked in and their silence was unnatural. He checked the pincer ship's location and it continued to read normal, though why they had landed it on a lake was completely beyond him. Captain Stanwich had said something about monkeys and Mad Matt had checked his secret pirate language dictionary until he was blue in the face and hadn't come up with any intelligent translation. Apparently, monkey meant monkey in secret pirate language, so God only knew what Stanwich was talking about. Still, the Captain was the Captain, and Matt respected him, though he had given up all hope of ever understanding him.

"I don't like it, Panther," he said, for the forty third time. "There is something wrong going on down there. I say we break out the weapons and go and kill someone."

"Who?" asked Panther casually, "who are we going to kill? You can't just go out and start shooting people..." he hesitated. "Alright, you could go out and start shooting people, but normal people couldn't and it wouldn't help us find them. We need to sit tight and wait to hear something."

"I knew they shouldn't have brought the women with them," hissed Matt. "Women shouldn't be pirates."

"That's sexist," replied Panther.

"No it isn't," answered Mad Matt, "there are lots of things women shouldn't be, pirates is just one of them."

"Now you're just showing your ignorance," replied Panther. "Name something else, go ahead."

"Male prostitute," replied Mad Matt, "or a school bus driver..."

"Where do you get the idea that women shouldn't be school bus drivers?" snapped Panther. "My mother drove a school bus..."

"And you don't see the harm of a woman named Bethusda being called Anne," replied Matt. "Mama dropped the ball on that one, didn't she and you know why? Because she was off carting other women's kids to school, that's why."

Panther touched the mazer in his pocket. "Have you seen where Chester went?"

Mad Matt smiled; obviously he had won the argument if Panther changed the subject. "Actually, no. I haven't seen him since we were on the bridge together earlier."

"We have to be ready when they get back," complained Panther. "I'm going to have to talk to Yeoman Xiang, he can't just cut out cause the Captain isn't here."

"I haven't seen her either," replied Matt. "I only saw Don on the bridge."

"Wonderful," replied Panther. "They left Don alone on the bridge? You can't leave Don alone on the bridge; the man is liable to do anything."

"I've always felt he was a loose cannon," agreed Mad Matt, "nice dresser though..."

***

"We'll only have about a half an hour head start," stated the engineer, "maybe less."

"Alright," replied Caucasian Tim, "then send the Negreat ships towards home. We'll have to negotiate quickly and get out of there before the armada shows up."

"If we just rush in and rush out, won't they get suspicious?" asked Squabby, as he stood absentmindedly rubbing his belly.

"No," replied Tim, "we'll explain that there are patrols in the area and that we have to get out of there in order to avoid them. They'll be anxious to get the Negreat and get us out of there. No one wants to be detected."

"But the fleet will find them," stated Squabby.

"Maybe, but they won't find us. After a score this size, we won't need to do the "Negreat thing" anymore. We'll have the money, the fleet will have them and we'll get away free as a bird." Tim smiled, a less then tantalizing sight, "It's what pirates do, mate. So engineer, put those Negreat ships on course and let's get this show on the road!"

***

Tardy, the two Captains and Gil had followed the police to Central Booking and had taken up a position directly across the street in a small, worn diner. Tardy and the two Captains spoke in hushed tones while Gil sat in the corner of their booth, shaking with fear, illness and blind rage.

He had lost Julie and if he had lost Julie, he had lost everything. Who cared how loudly his tubing creaked, it might as well give way, without Julie, it didn't matter if he lived or died. His thoughts rollercoastered from incoherent despair to rage, he would kill everyone to get Julie out, it didn't matter if he made it, he had to free Julie!

"Okay, so they were arrested, let's look on the positive side," began Captain Galbard. "We got all the furniture on the pincer ship and we're ready to go."

"And we were able to give that Junior High School class a tour of the ship and we're going to be on that web program, "Educators of the Month"," added Stanwich. "I'd say that's not too bad for a man who never went to high school!"

"Julie and Nicole are in prison," stated Tardy quietly, working hard not to strangle either captain. "We need to get them back."

Galbard replied, "You're looking at this as a glass half empty thing..."

Gil suddenly erupted, "Half empty? Without Julie, there is no glass, half full or half empty! We have to get her back and we have to get her back now!"

Tardy grabbed his arm, scanning the diner packed with police officers on break, "Quiet down, Gil, we can't afford the attention right now..."

"Fine," he hissed through clenched teeth. "They have Julie and I don't care what it takes, we're getting Julie back. I don't care what happens to me or what happens to anyone else. If I have to take out every person in that building, Julie is getting out!"

The three men looked at him in amazement. "Accountants kill numbers, Gil, not people," stated Stanwich.

"I'm not an accountant," replied Gil in a strangled whisper, "I'm a pirate!"

"I have to say, at the moment, you're acting very much like a pirate and I applaud that, I do," stated Galbard, "but we can't go off and kill people without a plan. If we did that we'd be no better than animals."

"Or Mad Matt," concurred Stanwich. "Now Gil, I want the girls back just as much as you do. After all, I'm very fond of Julie and Nicole is my daughter, so I'm very fond of her too, but we can't just go off without a plan, even I know that much. We need something concrete, something well thought out, something fool proof."

"Or we could just kill everyone," replied Gil in an unnerving monotone, a slight tick developing in his left eye.

"I haven't seen him this obsessed since he had peas in his pants," replied Stanwich.

Tardy closed his eyes and counted to ten before stating quietly, "We need to know when they will be transferred from the court. They will be charged and then transferred to the women's prison to await trial, that is our opening. Once we know when, we can put together a rescue plan."

Gil's eyes glowered in a cold stare. "I warn each and every one of you, if they've hurt my Julie in any way, I will rip off their heads and stuff them down their quivering, bleeding necks!"

Galbard nodded his understanding slowly, whispering under his breath to Stanwich, "I liked it better when he was an accountant." Smiling at Gil, he spoke, "Look, Gil, I'm a bit ashamed to admit it, but I've been in that building a few times myself, juvenile pranks, adolescent thrills, things of that nature. I know the procedures and I know from where and when they will be taking Julie and Nicole out. We'll get them back, don't worry. In the meantime, we'd better order something to avoid suspicion."

Stanwich glanced down at the menu, how could Galbard think of food at a time like this, even as a means of covering their activities. The man was as cool and calculating as a cucumber. Do cucumbers calculate? Ohhh, meatloaf!

***

Bruno Matagliano von Spritzer Deutche, white hair spiked in every direction, gently hugged himself, enjoying the feeling of his black turtleneck against his pale white skin. Pouting pink painted lips, he spoke in a strange accent, "Ve need da dark modews. How am I to pot my clotheses on ze pale skinny whinny modews, no, no, no, no, thiz I can not do. Skinny yez, the skinny modews, evevyone acspacts de skinny modews, no fat modews, no, no, bat zey must be dark!"

"I've got so much Negreat on board these ships that they'll leave dark marks on coal," replied Caucasian Tim. "You'll have the darkest models of any designer on the planet."

"Not da planeat, no, no, no, I don't wan ze planeat, I wan ze univoice, yes, yes," replied Bruno, strutting to the side of his office and giving them a view of a gait that was a cross between a ballerina and an orangutan.

"Fine, the universe," replied Tim, sneaking a peek at his watch. "Come now, haven't we always treated each other well? When I brought you here, didn't I protect you? No one knows you're here, your plant, your people, I got them here and no one is the wiser. Every time I come here, we hide ourselves from the planetary scanners; no one knows you are here, not the Cardinal, no one..."

"De cow peopwes don't know," snapped Bruno, "who couldn't not fool da cow peopwes?"

"Not cow peoples," corrected Tim, "the Amish. The Amish don't know you're here because I hid you and your plant from them, not such an easy thing. They aren't stupid you know, they grow potatoes in the ground, I have no idea how they do it, but they do."

"Ya speaking boat patatos and I need vewy dak modews," sneered Bruno, tired of the all of the decisions he had to make being a genius.

"Do you want the shipment or not?" Tim asked finally. "I don't have a lot of time and the Revlon people are ready to shmooze me on this..."

"No, no, no, not the Revwon people," screeched Bruno. "Chi Chi, get me Chi Chi!"

Instantly a small Asian man in kaki shorts, white polo shirt and gold slippers appeared. "You called, Genius?"

"Dey said the word, Chi Chi, dey said the word!" screeched Bruno.

Chi Chi hugged Bruno gently, looking reproachfully at Tim, "You can't say the "word", it upsets the Genius. The "word" stole his idea for nail mascara, it upsets him terribly."

"I had no idea..." began Tim, feeling awkward.

"See," said Chi Chi gently, "it's apologizing. See? Isn't it all better now?"

"Where is Geeana," asked Bruno, wiping his eyes with a black lace handkerchief.

"Geeana," cried out Chi Chi, "Geeana darling. Hurry, hurry, the Genius needs his muse!"

Geeana appeared from behind a curtain. Her long brown hair held streaks of gold throughout and her face was that of an angel. Draped in a bronze colored cloth, she had the body of an undernourished twelve year old boy. She saw Bruno and broke into a multimillion dollar smile.

"I'm here, Genius, I'm here," she called out eagerly.

"They've brwaut more Negweat," replied Bruno. "I wand you dark, vewy dark, almost black dark."

"Yes, Genius," she replied happily. "I'll get the bath ready. I'll pour in the Negreat and sit in it for a day or two." His smile made her world complete and she daintly tripped off to fill her bath with Negreat and to regurgitate the lunch she hadn't eaten.

"So you'll take the whole shipment?" asked Tim.

"I'w pay you in gowd," replied Bruno. "Chi Chi, get me some gowd. Watts and watts of gowd."

"Yes Chi Chi," smiled Tim, "watts and watts of GOWD!"

Chapter 14

"What planet is this?" asked Fitzpatrick.

Masterson looked at the chart, "I don't know, it has no name."

"There's nothing on the chart?" Fitzpatrick shifted in his seat. "Doesn't that seem a little odd to you?"

"There are millions of stars that are unnamed," commented Masterson, "but if it will get us out of here any sooner, seems odd to me."

"What about you, helmsman?" asked Fitzpatrick.

"Odd, very odd," replied the helmsman.

"I don't understand it, Masterson," stated Fitzpatrick with a deliberately dramatic stroll towards the viewing screen. "Why take the Negreat to a planet that doesn't have a name?"

"A secret hiding planet for pirates, perhaps," said Masterson.

"Or a buyer for the shipment," replied Fitzpatrick, eyes squinted in simulated thought. "If this isn't the pirate planet, we could miss a great opportunity. If this is the pirate planet, we could score a great victory."

"Obviously, sir, this requires an executive decision," replied Masterson.

"I need facts, Masterson!" Fitzpatrick brought his hand down forcefully on the console.

"I disagree, sir," replied Masterson. "You don't want history saying that you waited around to make a decision based on a lot of facts, do you? No, sir, you want to take action without thinking, you want to go with your gut, it's what all the greats do, sir."

"It's what Jim Andrews would have done," stated Fitzpatrick, absentmindedly stroking his black armband.

"Right after he peed on himself," mumbled the helmsman quietly.

"You're right, Masterson, you're right," stated Fitzpatrick. "I want a map of that planet, up on screen. I will position our ships and then, may God have mercy on them, because by George, they'll get none from me!"

***

"Do you think they'll come for us," whispered Nicole. She was sitting next to Julie in the small holding cell they shared trying desperately to hide the fact that she was terrified.

"I hope not," replied Julie, trying to be reasonable. She had been married to Gil for so long and yet she had no idea of what he might do in this type of situation. Assistant Redundancy Managers seldom were called upon to bust their wives out of jail and she had no idea what procedure Gil would follow, it was not the sort of thing they had ever discussed. Oddly, she was completely sure that he would try something because she had no doubt that he loved her and for some reason, that made her capable of acting reasonably.

"Listen to me," she said to Nicole, wrapping a motherly arm around the younger woman, "Gil loves me and Mr. Tardy loves you and your father loves you and Captain Galbard is a dear, strange man. They're going to come for us and they're going to get us out of this, how, I don't know, but I know that they will."

"You're right," gulped Nicole, "you're right, Julie. I hope they don't try anything here, it's too well guarded and there aren't enough of them."

"You're right," replied Julie. "They will have to make their move someplace where the odds are a lot better."

"Where would that be?" asked Nicole.

"I'm not sure," stated Julie, "but it means we have to be ready to react in an instant. If I know Gil, they will have a detailed plan and we're going to have to move quickly to keep to some sort of elaborate time schedule. Gil's a planner, he'll have everything set up to run like clock work, so we have to be ready to just react. Whatever they tell us to do the next time we see them, just do it, just react and we'll be okay, you watch and see."

***

"So is the salt shaker the door or is the pepper shaker the door," asked Captain Stanwich.

"Neither," stated Tardy, "the salt shaker is the truck; the pepper shaker is the get away car!"

"So where is the door?" asked Galbard.

"The french fry, the french fry," snapped Gil. "The french fry is the door, the napkin is the garage, the water glass is the prison bus and the fork is... wait a minute, where's the fork?"

The waitress sauntered up, "It was dirty, honey, I got you a clean one. Do you four want anything else?"

"I would love some more toast," replied Stanwich, "and a cup of tea, please."

"That's you twelfth order of toast," stated the waitress, "you sure like toast."

"Food of the gods," replied Galbard in his most charming tone. "Perhaps you would know what time you get off work?"

The waitress smiled, "I might."

"Well then," smiled Galbard, "perhaps that toast will come with a phone number on it."

The waitress grimaced, "On the toast?"

"I won't eat that part," stated Stanwich.

The waitress retreated, puzzled.

"What are you doing?" asked Tardy.

"We've been here for four hours," replied Galbard, "and all we've ordered is toast and tea. There had better be another reason we're here or someone is going to get suspicious."

Stanwich smiled broadly, "You've a quick mind, Captain."

"Why thank you, Captain."

Tardy wanted to strangle both of them, but decided that killing Nicole's father might put a damper on their romance.

"Once we're out of the garage," stated Gil, ignoring the entire exchange, "you pull the truck in front of the exit and then jump in the car with us."

"No matter how many times we go through this, Gil, I still don't think it's going to work," replied Galbard softly. "We need to get another man, we're stretched too thin."

"We can't risk having another pincer ship come down, it might tip off the authorities," replied Gil. "Besides, if they stick to their schedule, there won't be enough time to get someone here before they move the girls. This is our one opportunity."

"Gil is right," stated Tardy, "it's too risky to contact the crew."

"There is no one else we can trust," agreed Gil, "we have to rely upon ourselves."

"Remember, we need to be inconspicuous, remember," stressed Tardy, "we need to blend in. We don't want anyone to see us, identify us or remember us."

"Here's your tea and toast," stated the waitress as she sauntered up to the table. "I put my number on this piece of paper; I just thought it would be easier."

"Why, thank you," replied Galbard, "I think I'll give this number a call in say, an hour?"

"I don't get off for another three hours," replied the waitress.

"I like it," smiled Galbard, "go ahead, play coy."

***

Cardinal Benny did not look pleased, "They didn't check in?"

"We've had no word from them," stated Panther. With a deep breath, he continued, "It also appears that we've lost Chester and Yeoman Xiang. We can't find them anywhere."

"We know they didn't leave the ship," stated Mad Matt. "We've checked all the sensors and the pincer ship bay, everything is where it should be and nothing is missing, except for them."

Cardinal Benny frowned, "I was hoping you'd be headed back by now. We've gotten a report that the armada is headed our way. If what we've been told is true, they'll be here shortly."

"Listen," started Mad Matt, "I've been thinking about that. What if we snuck up behind them as they approached the planet, you've got a few ships there, we could squeeze them, smash them like a cookie between a hammer and an anvil!"

"It would be suicide," replied the Cardinal softly. "We have two ships here, the Albatross and the Zippy," he rolled his eyes. "With the Constellation, we've got three ships all together. The Constellation, however, is being held together by cardboard, it can't fly and couldn't take out a ninety year old, bedridden woman in a fair fight. The Zippy was named by its crew which leads me to believe that we shouldn't put too much stock in their ability. The Albatross was named because it doesn't exactly maneuver too well, which it might have to do to avoid the cannon fire of seven hundred ships and, oh yeah, there are seven hundred ships in the armada."

"I like the odds," replied Mad Matt.

"Yeah, nothing like a suicide mission to make the day complete," stated Panther. "Look, what do you think we should do?"

"Nothing," replied the Cardinal. "Sit tight. I have some contacts. Let me see what I can find out about the landing part and in the meantime, do nothing. Just sit tight, I'll get back to you in an hour or so."

"We could kill a lot of people in an hour," replied Mad Matt.

"I'm aware of that," replied the Cardinal, "just sit tight. In the meantime, see if you can't find Chester and Xiang, if they didn't leave the ship, they have to be on it somewhere."

"We'll keep looking," replied Panther.

"Only one of you keep looking," replied the Cardinal. "Don't leave Don alone on the bridge again. Why not send Matt and Don to search and you, Panther, you stay on the bridge, in case they call and need your help."

"Very well," replied Mad Matt. "I'll do it, but if we have to kill them, Don isn't going to be much help."

"Why would you have to kill Chester and Yeoman Xiang?" asked the Cardinal.

"Could be spies," replied Mad Matt. "You don't know where we'll find them or what they'll be doing."

"Don't kill anyone until I give the go ahead," replied the Cardinal. "No one, got it?"

Mad Matt shook his head, "I should have gone to hairdressing school for all the good it is learning to be a pirate..."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you," replied the Cardinal, "but you just can't go around killing people, even if you are a pirate."

"We'll check in every hour," stated Panther. "If you don't hear from us, send back up."

"You want the Albatross or the Zippy to ride to your rescue?" asked the Cardinal.

Panther considered it, "Okay, if you don't hear from us, just assume we're all dead."

Chapter 15

"We have enough fire power to crack the planet," stated Masterson. "If we all fire at one time, we could break it into tiny, little pieces."

"Sensors detect settlements down there, sir," stated a yeoman. "Nothing too advanced, just a few buildings each, but there are several of them. We estimate a group of between a 500,000 and a million living on the planet."

"A million pirates," mused Fitzpatrick. "How could there be so many, Masterson?"

"Pirates breed, sir," replied Masterson. "They also might kidnap people, hold them for ransom..."

"Perhaps they adopt children," stated a young ensign.

"Don't be a complete moron, son," stated Fitzpatrick, "why would a pirate adopt a child? What do you think they are, movie stars looking for good press because their last movie stunk?"

The room erupted in nervous laughter.

"Alright, alright, settle down," smiled Fitzpatrick, mistaking their reaction for a show of affection for the "old man". If he only knew how they hated him, he'd never sleep with his eyes closed.

"Sir," interrupted Masterson, "perhaps we could just destroy the planet, declare victory and go home heroes. I mean, we've been out here for months..."

"Two weeks, sir," interrupted the ensign.

"At what point will you realize that you are a moron?" snapped Fitzpatrick. He jumped up in a sudden fury, "I want this man arrested and flogged for being stupid!"

Two guards rushed forward and grabbed the ensign, dragging him from the room.

"Does anyone else have something stupid to say?" bellowed Fitzpatrick.

The room remained tense, quiet.

"It seems we've removed the last stupid person without the rank necessary to make a formal complaint, sir," stated Masterson. "Perhaps we could just elaborate on your plan and get ready for battle."

Fitzpatrick nodded sagely and faced the group, "I have spent countless hours creating an elaborate plan that is simple in execution and mercifully swift in the long drawn out way in which the battle should play out. Without overwhelming you with important details, I will ask you only to obey your portion of the plan as I have downloaded it into your ships computers. Do nothing other than follow the instructions I have forwarded and victory is assured!"

"You downloaded the attack plan into everyone's ship computer?" asked Masterson.

"Yes," replied Fitzpatrick.

"When did you do that, sir?" asked Masterson.

"Prior to leaving, of course," smiled Fitzpatrick. "Just choose scenario B and all will be well."

The group assembled looked about them, unsure of what they should do. "Just go," stated Fitzpatrick. "Just follow scenario B and all will be well."

"Perhaps," began Masterson quietly, "since everyone is here anyway, we should take a look at the plan and maybe rehearse it a bit before actually doing it..."

"Just go to your ships and follow the plan!" snapped Fitzpatrick. "I have no need of rehearsals! All we need is obedience!"

"If I might, sir," replied Masterson, "you remember the attack on Chestershire..." Fitzpatrick blinked rapidly, unable to make the connection. "The 40,000 troops we lost sir..." Fitzpatrick grimaced in thought, no light of recognition to be seen. "The little "misunderstanding" in the directions, sir..."

Fitzpatrick bristled in recognition, "A totally different set of circumstances, Masterson. I can't help it if idiots don't know that you don't shoot at your own people!"

Masterson leaned in suavely, "Look at the group around you, sir. Do you really think that they can understand your brilliance at first glance?"

Fitzpatrick looked from Masterson to the group. Yes, yes, what Masterson said had the ring of truth to it. Had he not trained the same knuckleheads that now stood before him, eager to follow him and completely unable to follow the brilliance of his discourse, even in a classroom setting, where the following of brilliant discourse was the whole point of being there? He looked into the dull eyes, the slack mouths with tongues visible between parted lips, Masterson was right. These weren't soldiers, they were apes dressed up for someone's amusement. How could he be expected to win a war with a blood thirsty adversary with these sons and daughters of plant-life!

"You're right, Masterson," he replied quietly, "undoubtedly they will mess it up. Take a look at them, they would be wearing their shoes on their heads if I hadn't taught them where their feet were and what to do with them. My God, man, I can't trust my plan to these rock formations, this group of edible underwear in snazzy uniforms! Instruct them? How can I lead a group like this, we'll be slaughtered! Flog them, Masterson, flog them all!"

The entire group stepped back together, unsure of where this was going but not liking their general understanding of the road map.

"Perhaps, sir, there is a better way," offered Masterson.

Fitzpatrick spat in disgust. "How Masterson? Look, look at that one," he said, pointing to a captain with an exceedingly low hung forehead, "he should be in a tree, evolution passed him by entirely, entirely!"

"Let us review the plan, sir," stated Masterson. "Between the two of us, we can get them each to understand their separate part. You'll see, sir, you've always been a natural teacher."

"That's true," remarked Fitzpatrick, "I explained nuclear fission to my mother on her deathbed. She was in a coma, but I'm sure she understood..."

"With your leadership, sir, we can do this," snapped Masterson, eyeing the frighten group. With a nod of his head, he began to pump his fist in the air and chanting, urging them to follow his example, "Fitzpatrick, Fitzpatrick, Fitzpatrick!"

Even the slowest witted in the group caught onto the idea by the third "Fitzpatrick" and soon the whole room was chanting the commander's name. Like a tree falling over and crushing the man who had cut it down, the chant stopped the commander's thoughts where they germinated.

"Alright then," snapped Masterson, "let's get to work!"

***

Mad Matt moved silently down the corridor, the throbbing hum of the ship reminding him that he probably should get his water pik rewired. It wasn't that he minded the electrical shocks he got while cleaning his teeth, but the last time he had given his teeth the once over, the lights had dimmed all over the ship as if someone had taken a seat in an electric chair. Yes it was time; he made a mental note to rewire that baby.

In all the years they had worked together, Mad Matt had never actually been to Chester's room. Seeing how Chester dressed and having a keen ability to measure people, Mad Matt figured the less he knew from personal experience the better. Not that Chester was a bad guy, he was there, in the trenches everyday, but it was just that he considered Chester a bit nuts. Not in a dangerous way, which was actually his entire objection. If you were going to have a few screws loose, you should be edgy, not quiet and dependable. Quiet and dependable missed the whole point of being a bit out there and if you weren't going to do the thing right, well there was no point in doing it at all. You didn't see Mad Matt wasting his time being loosed screwed and quiet, though he was dependable in his own fashion. His work was always done, which was really only so that he could get into other things that weren't considered appropriate but that he found essential, which, when you came down to it, was the whole point of having a few screws loose. In the end, Mad Matt looked on Chester as a nice guy, but a bit of an amateur in the loose screw department; crazy, yes, but with a bit of refinement, which in the end just missed the whole point entirely.

In the middle of this mental dialogue, a moan caught Matt's ear. It was low and guttural and it was coming from what should be Chester's room, or the room just next door to it. Snapping his communicator off the clip that held it to his belt, he whispered urgently, "Panther! Panther, are you there?"

Panther's reply betrayed no emotion, "I'm here." He was used to all of Mad Matt's calls sounding urgent.

"Panther, I think something is going on down here," continued Matt, walking slowly towards the doorway. "I'm hearing moaning coming from Chester's room."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm pretty sure," replied Matt, easing himself up the wall next to the door. "If it isn't in Chester's room, it's the room next door."

"I'm on my way," snapped Panther.

"Sorry buddy," replied Mad Matt, pulling his Mazer out of its holster. "I can't wait, I'm going in."

"Don't go in without back up," yelled Panther, breaking into a run and heading towards the elevator.

"No time to lose," whispered Mad Matt, and he clicked his communicator off. Slowly, silently, he forced the door's auto lock, sliding the door open just wide enough to squeeze his body into the room. He crouched low, gun drawn, and slithered forward into the darkened room.

There was a dull light at the center of the room, partially blocked by a large figure facing away from him. A low, windy moan echoed in the room and there seemed to be a slight mist rising from the floor. Mad Matt's eyes were becoming more accustomed to the darkness, things were taking on more definite shapes and meanings as he crept forward. It was then that he saw it, saw it clearly. It was huge, hideous, pulsating in the greenish light.

A look of horror contorted Mad Matt's features as he flung a protective forearm across his eyes, the hideous image burned forever into his mind. "Oh God," he screamed, crumpling to the floor, gun dropping heavily to the floor, "Oh God!"

***

"We have a problem," murmured Tardy, examining the plan for the thirty fourth time.

Gil's eyes grew concerned. Unlike the others, Tardy was a reasonable man. "What, what problem?"

"No weapons," replied Tardy quietly. "We have nothing to take the guards out with. See here," he asked, pointing to a toast crust that represented a guard, "Captain Stanwich is sneaking up on this fellow and eliminating him, but in order to get into the building, you can't have a weapon on you. Two guards would be no problem even three with the element of surprise would be okay, but what if there are four? We need weapons and we can't take any with us."

Gil considered it. "Do they have detectors at every entrance?"

"Every one," confirmed Galbard. ""The only thing they don't register is organic material. Unfortunately, the only thing we could get past the sensors is a club or something made of wood, but in order for it to be effective, it would have to be large and if it were large, it would be noticeable."

"Is that what organic means?" asked Stanwich. "I always thought that was a musical term."

"No," replied Galbard authoritatively, "it means "made of wood". Did you ever eat tofu? Did you ever wonder why it has no taste? It's because it is made of tree bark. That's why termites don't have tongues, it would make no sense. What are they going to taste, tofu?"

The two men laughed cleverly.

"Getting back to the guards," sighed Tardy, restraining Gil with an outstretched hand. "perhaps a chemical weapon would work."

"Like a knock out gas or a blinding agent," murmured Gil.

"Those are usually stored in metal containers," pointed out Galbard. "Even if we could find them, we might not be able to smuggle them in."

"Look!" whispered Stanwich, intently pointing to a poster haphazardly stuck to the wooden fence surrounding a building under construction across the street.

The others squinted, "Diphtheria's latest album is the High Stinkenest Bomb?" read Galbard.

"Not that one, the one next to it!" stated Stanwich.

"Feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel Church?" asked Tardy.

"It's today! That's it!" laughed Stanwich. "Unless I miss my guess, we've just found our weapons!"

***

The planetary control room for Zooks was an unimposing looking building at the end of the Cathedral's property overlooking the garden. It was staffed by the planets defense team, Captain Alfonse Napolitano and two other Swiss Guards from the Vatican. The building housed two large rooms on the first floor, one holding the planetary mazer arsenal and the other the Planetary Defensive Shield Control Center. A large central console and two enormous monitoring screens dominated the room.

Captain Alfonse manipulated the control panel, frowning with each subsequent image that appeared. Beside him stood Cardinal Benny, concern growing on his face with each passing image.

"How far off are they?"

Captain Alfonse shrugged, "They're within striking distance, they could be here in ten minutes if they wanted to be."

"How many are we looking at?" asked the Cardinal hopefully.

"All seven hundred," replied Alfonse quietly. He squinted at a button on the control panel that had started blinking, "They're running a scan, but it's not pointed at us..."

"How long can the shield last if we activate it?"

Alfonse laughed, "Against seven hundred ships? They'll punch through it in half a day, a day at the outside."

"We need a diversion, something to get them away from us," groaned the Cardinal. "I thought the Intrepid Monkey would be back by now..."

"One ship wouldn't create much of a distraction," stated Alfonse.

"You underestimate Galbard," replied Cardinal Benny, "I've seen the man do some amazing things in the heat of battle. When there's a fight, the man is a miracle worker..."

"And when there isn't..." Alfonse let his meaning sink in.

"If only we could get word to them that there was a battle about to begin," replied the Cardinal after a time.

Alfonse shook his head, "Your Eminence, this won't be a battle, this will be a massacre."

***

"Come on, buddy, come on..."

Mad Matt heard the murmured words, felt the moist rim of a cup being brought to his lips.

"Try to drink this..."

Instinctively he took a little water, his eyes fluttering open, confusion dominating his brain. Cradling his head, Panther looked down at him, dark brown eyes filled with concern.

"Try to stay still;" said Panther soothingly, "you had a nasty shock."

"Is he okay?" asked a concerned female voice, its source out of range of Matt's vision.

"He's just coming to," replied Panther softly.

"It was horrible," began Mad Matt, slowly remembering the vision burned into his brain, the picture of the horror he had seen.

"Take it easy, buddy, take it easy..."

Chester and Xiang appeared behind Panther, each wrapped in a white terrycloth robe, eyes filled with concern.

"How are you?" asked Chester quietly.

"How am I?' snapped Mad Matt.

"Easy buddy, easy..." said Panther.

Matt sat up, anger replacing confusion, "How am I? I came in here thinking you were being attacked, or held captive, or even worse!"

"I'm sorry..."

"Sorry?!"

Panther rose and helped Matt up to a chair, "Now tell me, what the heck happened?"

Matt was seething, "I came in here expecting a fight. It was dark, I mean really dark, all except for this light in the middle of the room and this thing, blocking the light. Well, I hear moaning and the thing is moving and pulsating like and I start to sneak up on it and then, and then..." Matt gulped, a stricken look on his face.

"We were making love by the fireplace," continued Yeoman Xiang, "and he interrupted."

"It was horrible," continued Matt. "He's the hairiest mound of fat I've ever seen!"

"Watch it," snapped Xiang, "you're talking about my future husband."

"Husband?" Panther jumped. "You and Chester?"

"It happened kind of sudden," stated Chester softly behind a shy smile.

"We were on the bridge and Chester knew that my soul was in torment," said Xiang breathlessly. "He knew in his heart that I was seeking love in all of the wrong places. He stopped, he listened, we laughed and then..."

"Do you know what he looks like from behind with his clothes off?" shouted Mad Matt. "I'll never lose that image; it's seared into my memory!"

"He's magnificent," stated Xiang.

"What the hell are you looking at lady?" cried Mad Matt, "He's got hair coming out of everywhere!" He looked pleadingly at Panther for understanding, "Panther, it looks like he's wearing a fur coat, it's like a cross between a bear and a wooly mammoth. His ass looks like the back of Chewbacca's head!" He stuttered in frustration at his inability to describe the horror, "It's, it's, it's like he's a short, fat Sasquatch!"

"I have Mediterranean blood in me," said Chester shyly, "we tend to be a bit hairier..."

"A bit hairier?" Mad Matt's eyes began blinking rapidly, "Are you crazy? You are furrier with the robe off than you are with the robe on!"

"He has a beautiful body," began Xiang. "So uninhibited, so natural...and surprisingly flexible..."

"Enough," snapped Panther, fearing his stomach could go no further. "I don't know what sort of weirdness took place in this room and I pray to God that after a hot shower and some disinfectant, I can put this whole episode behind me, but until then, I suggest we don't mention it."

"I'm praying God kills me, right now!" grumbled Mad Matt. "Give me a stroke, Lord, a heart attack, anything! I'd rather be brain dead than have to live with the memory of what I saw."

"I was hoping you'd be in the wedding party," said Chester quietly to Matt.

Matt's eyes blinked about three hundred times in the next ten seconds before he stalked out of the room with a shuddering groan.

Panther took a deep breath, "Look, we'd better get back to the bridge. The landing party hasn't returned and Cardinal Benny seemed worried, but told us to sit tight. We've wasted a lot of time looking for you two and we had to leave Don alone on the bridge, which is never a good idea."

"We'll be up in there in 2 minutes," replied Xiang. "I just need to get dressed."

"Me too," replied Chester.

"From what I hear, you especially," replied Panther to Chester with a weary shake of his head. Crossing to the door, he made his way out into the hallway.

Chapter 16

Vincent Gigantiello was a short, squat man of seventy, with thick, curly grey hair and a pair of rimless glasses who walked with a limp. Vinny was a person most people aimed to avoid. No one could accuse him of being cruel or rude, but Vinny was a championship complainer. If life had ever annoyed a person, it was Vinny.

Of course, Vinny had not had an easy life, but in some instances he had compounded his own problems, such as smoking and drinking in his youth the result of which was his current need to take pills and not eat anything he enjoyed.

His other problem, of course, was that he had married his childhood sweetheart, Rosa. Rosa was always to be found in church and she always volunteered Vinny for things he did not want to do. Besides that, Rosa for all her praying was known as the biggest pain in the ass on the block. She was the lady who kept your ball if it landed in her yard, the woman who knocked on your parent's door to tell on you if you did something bad, the one who complained to the priest that he didn't know his religion and to the police officer that he didn't know the law. Rosa could drive a saint nuts and Vinny had no intention of being a saint. He had been a truck driver when he had worked and he had liked it, primarily because he so seldom had to talk to other people, whom he considered as a group to be complete idiots, but now that he was retired he was a professional complainer and he saw no need to change.

This is how things stood as Vinny eyed the four men standing before him with quiet distain, subtly rolling a metal pipe in his hand. He kept the pipe just under the front counter of the vendor's cart he was working in case someone got out of line. The pipe felt cool to the touch and ready to go to work, its sole purpose to deal with those "problem" moments that occasionally happened at street fairs.

Once again, Rosa had volunteered him to work the zeppoli cart at the church fair, a fact that came as a huge shock to Vinny despite her having volunteered him for the same duty for the past thirty-seven years. Every year Vinny swore to her that he had had enough and would never work the fair again and every year she came home from some committee meeting to tell him she had signed him up for another ten day shift as king of the zeppolis. Then for three days the neighbors got no sleep because the two would screamed at each other for twelve hours a day about working the cart again.

The working of the zeppoli cart had become a spring ritual in the neighborhood, something you could set your clock by, a rite of passage for the warm weather and a great way for the younger generation to learn awful words in their own backyard.

In truth working the cart was not so horrible, it accounted for all of Vinny's autumn exercise and besides, the zeppoli's took no true cooking skill to create. A small ball of dough thrown into a deep fryer until it turns a golden brown and rises to the top and then scooped out that was then covered in a mountain of confectionary sugar. Vinny's joy came in handing it to some unsuspecting individual who would then bite it and burns their lips off.

It wasn't the making of the zeppoli's that bother Vinny, it was the fact that she never asked him if he wanted to do it or not. Not once in a hundred and forty years of marriage did she ever consult him!

Those arguments, however, were a pleasant memory and at the moment, all Vinny was thinking about was that these four morons standing in front of him might be trying to be disrespectful to him. Vinny was flabby where he had once been thin, was scrawny where he had once been muscular, was achy where he had once had no pain, but if these guys thought they could disrespect him, they would find out that he could still kick the crap out of any moron stupid enough to go head to head with him, despite two heart attacks, four stents and a bum knee.

"Let me get this right," drawled Vinny, his grip firming up on the pipe, "you want I should sell you a dozen two day old zeppolis."

Captain Stanwich, completely unaware of the danger, smiled happily up at Vinny in the cart, "Yes, please."

"Why don't you get outta here," began Vinny between clenched teeth, "before I smack you in the head!"

Stanwich looked at him blankly and turned to Gil for an explanation of this sudden outburst. Gil, who had become noticeably more twitchy without Julie around stepped up to deal with the problem. "It's for a joke," he explained.

Vinny waivered, "A joke?"

Gil managed a smile, "We want to buy a dozen zepollis from today and a dozen old ones. We're going to meet our Italian friend, uh..." Gil's mind went blank as it searched for a good Italian name.

"Sven," blurted out Stanwich.

"Yeah, Sven," stated Gil, grinding his teeth. "He's always eating our zeppolis, that crazy Sven, and he eats them all and we don't have anymore because of him eating them. So, uh, anyway, we're going to tell him how good the zeppolis are and then offer him one, but when he goes to get one, we'll give him the old ones instead."

"Good old Sven," laughed Tardy. "He's always eating our zepollis, that's for sure."

Vinny's eyes narrowed. "He'll break every tooth in his head biting into a day old zeppoli. They turn to iron after a couple of hours, never mind a day..."

"Only two words for that," replied Tardy, trying to remain upbeat. "Fun knee!"

Vinny weighed Tardy's argument in the balance, "You've got a point. I hate people who mooch, if he breaks a tooth, good for him!"

Stanwich smiled as Vinny reached under the counter and produced a greasy bag, "I've got these left over from yesterday, they're like rocks."

"We've got about 20 minutes left," said Galbard with a quick glance at his watch. "We need to get ready..."

"Hey, I just thought of something," interrupted Vinny, his mind highly tuned to the idea of revenge having been married to Rosa for so long. "Instead of the old zeppolis, hows about I get a nail and put it in the dough and fry it up, so it's all nicey nice and then when this mooch bites into it, bam, broken tooth!"

Gil responded, "Great idea, but if he breaks his tooth that way, he might sue the Church."

"For what?" snapped Vinny.

"Well, for something being in the food that shouldn't be there," replied Gil. "See, if we give him the old ones, well who can say when we bought them, he can't prove anything, but if we give him one with a nail in it, he would know it was in there when it was cooked..."

"This guy would sue the Church?" ranted Vinny. "Oh, no, he's going down. Here, I'm giving you two dozen of the old ones on the house, I didn't care before, but now, this guy needs to suffer!"

***

Nicole followed Julie down the long, dark corridor in the basement of the booking station. Handcuffed and now wearing light blue prison jumpsuits, they moved slowly passed people in the crowded, dingy hallway. Both women looked intently at the faces around them. Nicky knew in her heart that her father would come for her and Gil would come for Julie, but she hoped they would not attempt a rescue here; this place was too crowded and too well guarded.

She wondered if Skip would attempt to rescue her. She did not want to get her hopes up, after all, they had been dating for such a short time, but it would be so romantic if he came swinging in and plucked her from the middle of all of these guards. Of course, he could get himself killed attempting it, which would be kind of romantic but would definitely ruin any chance of taking the relationship to the next level.

Julie walked with her head held high, eyes keenly surveying her surroundings. She had been a secretary before she was married and then a housewife and now a captured pirate and she saw no reason to apologize for the choices she had made. She would not be arrogant about it, certainly, but she would not deny being a pirate if they asked her and she would never deny being married to one.

She knew in her heart that somewhere, somehow, Gil would get her out of this, but she also hoped that he would do it in a slightly un-Gil like fashion. She could see Gil hiring a lawyer and trying to negotiate her release, which might be sensible and even successful, (after all, she had no criminal record and had only gotten two parking tickets in her entire life) but somehow it made one feel less pirate-like and, to her surprise, she had come to like the idea of being a pirate.

Life had taken on a new urgency in the last few weeks and somehow even if they snuck away from community service and a fine it would seem less so.

She also sensed the need in Nicole for the romance of a rescue. She knew Nicole would make someone a fine wife and would be sensible and steady all her life, just as she herself had been, but a woman needs at least one romantic adventure to look back upon, a little sparkle to remember in the twilight of life.

The guard ordered them to halt outside a large, heavy wooden door surrounded by large, chewed up benches. He motioned for the other guard with them to go inside the court room while they sat on the benches waiting for the guard to return.

"City jail," he mumbled.

"You mean we don't get to even see the judge?" asked Nicole.

"Nope," replied the guard. "You'll spend a few days in City Jail and then they'll see you. Right now, you're a guest of the state."

"That's ridiculous," began Julie, "I'm a former tax payer..."

"Tell it to the judge, lady," said the other guard. "in a day or two."

Nicole and Julie exchanged a look; it was pointless to argue with them.

"You can have a seat here ladies," smiled one guard, "the bus leaves in about ten minutes."

***

Cardinal Benny stared at the little group clustered on the screen, his face stern. "We have about five minutes before the federation armada deploys to attack this planet, your ship, a quarter of our working fleet, is about eight hours away and all I'm hearing is that you can't even begin your return journey home because Yeoman Xiang was attacked by a sasquatch!"

"I didn't say a sasquatch, I said from behind..."

"I don't care," interrupted Cardinal Benny, "we need you back here now!"

"They haven't contacted us yet," replied Panther. "We can't just leave them."

"Then do something to find them," replied Cardinal Benny. "My people haven't come up with anything yet and I might not be here to help you in a little while. We've got about half a day of shield against all the fire power they have out there. Call me as soon as you've got something!" With that Cardinal Benny cut off the transmission.

Captain Alfonse sat before his console, his face displaying an odd expression. "I have no idea what they're doing," he said to the Cardinal. "It doesn't make any sense."

"You forget that Fitzpatrick is their commander," stated the Cardinal. "Sense, I'm sure, has nothing to do with it."

"Should I put up the shield?" asked Captain Alfonse.

Cardinal Benny shook his head, "No, not yet. Let's see what they're going to do."

***

Gil cradled the bag of elderly zepollis, checking his watch as the four men worked their way through the crowd. "We've got ten minutes," he reported, "we have got to hurry."

"We'll make it," replied Tardy, "nothing will stop us."

Suddenly a voice rang out from behind them.

"Mr. Johnson?"

The four men froze. Gil turned slowly and stared at his former secretary, Miss Alshunt. It had been weeks since he had even thought of her and now here she was, standing before him, dark eyes wide with curiosity, ugly as ever.

A wide range of emotions flooded through Gil, reminders of his life before becoming a pirate, of his secure and boring little office, of his crappy cup of morning coffee, of his going home to Julie every night and finding her safe and secure and happy, of all that had transpired and of where she was now.

"Miss Alshunt," he stammered, "how good to see you."

Miss Alshunt continued to stare at him like some sort of rare and exotic creature. Her eyes grew darker and slightly menacing. "What are you doing here?" she finally managed. "We'd been told that you had become a... a..."

"I am," replied Gil. "As a matter of fact, the four of us are on our way to breaking my wife out of jail." Gil was stunned at his own revelation, but old habits were hard to break and he had never lied to Miss Alshunt before, except on the occasions when he told her she looked nice in a dress or he liked her shoes. That was Julie's influence, her kind way of trying to hide the fact that Miss Alshunt had been born to play the wicked witch in every production of the Wizard of Oz that her theater group would ever produce, sans makeup.

"Julie's in jail? Your Julie?" Miss Alshunt looked amazed. She could not have been more surprised if everyone had all suddenly lost their minds and elected a black president.

"Yes," said Gil urgently. "She was captured when we returned to reclaim our furniture..."

"You became an outlaw and came back for your furniture?" asked Miss Alshunt. "That's completely insane! Don't you know that the police are looking for you everywhere?!"

Her eyes widened, "How exciting! How daring! Oh, Mr. Johnson, I've missed you! I always suspected you had a swashbuckling side to you and now you're living on the edge and living out your dream and I, well I'm still here." Instinctively, Gil took her hand as she continued in a pained voice, "Your replacement is a horrible person. Remember, Mr. Henderson? He's rude and unkind and, and..."

"And what?" asked Gil.

"Well, it's not for me to say, Mr. Johnson," said Miss Alshunt with difficulty, "but he is the ugliest man I have ever laid eyes on. I can't stand to look at him. The way he drinks his coffee in the morning..."

"Miss Alshunt, it's been nice to see you," Gil said apologetically, "but they'll be moving Julie soon and we only have one chance..."

"And we're short handed," added Captain Stanwich.

"I could help you!" snapped Miss Alshunt. "Tell me what needs to be done."

"What?"

"Haven't I always been a good assistant, Mr. Johnson?" pleaded Miss Alshunt. "Haven't I always followed orders? I have no one here, nothing to hold me back, please let me go with you. I could help you, I'm sure of it."

Captain Galbard nudged Gil, "Gil, times a wasting. Either tell her she can come or feed her one of those zeppolis and put us all out of our misery."

"Take me with you, Mr. Johnson," begged Miss Alshunt. "I want to be an outlaw, I can't spend the rest of my life bringing that beast coffee every morning. I'm physically fit, I'm intelligent, I could be a great thief, after all I've worked for the government for years..."

"She'd scare the enemy, I can tell you that," stated Galbard.

"It's a hard life, Miss Alshunt," replied Gil. "It isn't all adventure, it's frightening at times. Like now, when I might not see my Julie again..."

"That sounds a lot like life, Mr. Johnson. Let me help you get Julie and then let's go," said Miss Alshunt. "My furniture is crappy, we don't have to go back for it, and from the look of your friends here, the dress code is very loose so I can pick up whatever I need on the way..."

"We could use another hand, Gil," interrupted Tardy. "We need a driver still. Can you drive a truck?"

"Of course I can," stated Miss Alshunt. "I used to have my own moving business before the government shut me down and made me a secretary. Glamour Girl Moving and Storage, ah those were the days!"

"But can we trust her, Gil?" asked Tardy.

Gil smiled, "Without a doubt. I know I always have. Welcome aboard Miss Alshunt, but please let's hurry, we'll fill you in on the way!"

Miss Alshunt let out a squeal of delight. "Let's go!"

Taking two steps she suddenly stopped. "One thing, I want to be called Gertrude," she stated with dignity. "Gertrude is my first name, Mr. Johnson. I want to be known as Gertrude the Pirate!"

"Then you had best call me Gil," he smiled. "Hurry now, I'll introduce you to the team and explain the plan on the way!"

***

"Is the gold secured?" asked Caucasian Tim, staring at the viewing screen, eyes widening at the expanding spectacle before him.

"It's all packed away," replied Squabby. Silence reigned on the bridge, the entire crew nervously eyeing the viewing screen.

"What do you think they'll do?" asked Squabby.

"They'll send down landing parties and arrest everyone they see," replied Tim. "It's not our problem..."

"We can't just leave them, can we?" asked the engineer.

"We're pirates, not politicians," snapped Tim, "we're not searching for votes. We work for money, not for friendship."

"No one could escape that," muttered the navigator, "they are surrounded by seven hundred ships. None of them will get out and all of them will spend the rest of their lives in jail..."

"As will we if you don't punch in some coordinates and get us out of here," snapped Tim. No one moved. "Come on now, being a pirate is more than just being friends with people, there is betrayal and stealing and pillaging. When I found a way to get around the planetary sensors at Zooks and land the ship in an area where they couldn't find us, none of you complained. As long as you were getting your cut, everyone was happy."

"We'll be losing a safe place," replied Squabby quietly. "I never thought about it till now..."

"Thinking is not your job," Tim reminded him, "and it would make a poor hobby for you. Take us to the Delta quadrant, there are no government ships there. We'll wait till the heat is off; in the meantime, we can divide up the gold."

The mention of the gold brought spirits notably higher. "Setting coordinates," replied the navigator.

"Then let us get out of here," replied Tim irritably, "while they're looking the other way."

***

"The women have been arrested," state Don quietly.

"What?" snapped the others.

"The women have been arrested," he replied, shifting his bulk to look at them from his chair. "I've been monitoring the police bans for the last half hour and Julie and Nicole were arrested for trespassing and suspicion of piracy."

"Were you able to find out where they are?" asked Yeoman Xiang.

"No," replied Don, "but I'm thinking the police precinct near where Julie and Gil used to live. Julie and Nicole's electronic finders aren't working, but all of the men's sensors are and they seem to be near the police precinct. Still, there isn't much we can do; reports say that they're being transported to central city jail in about 5 minutes."

Xiang smiled, "Captain Galbard will get them out. In a moment that requires action, there is no one better." With a slightly shy smile, she looked at Chester, "That's no reflection on you my angel, he can't compare to you in all of the important ways that make me feel like a treasured and loved woman, but I would be wrong not to have confidence in his ability as a commander."

Chester smiled, "Don't you worry, my little snookums, snookums, I understand and I love your honesty. I'm not threatened by it."

She looked at the rest of them with confidence, "Then let's get this ship ready to run, they'll be moving pretty fast by the time they get back and I wouldn't be surprised if we'll have some hot work to do."

"Finally," snapped Mad Matt, "a possible chance to kill someone!"

"Battle stations," nodded Xiang. "Everyone to battle stations!"

***

It had been the work of a hot second, but Tardy and Galbard had subdued the large truck driver and his helper and had given Miss Alshunt, aka, Gertrude the Pirate, the keys. "You have to get this rig to the side entrance in about two minutes and you're facing the wrong way," snapped Tardy.

"Don't worry, Mr. Tardy," smiled Miss Alshunt, a frightening revelation of teeth and intent, "I can flip this baby on a dime. I'll take out the whole building if you want!"

"You're a scary woman in more ways than one," stated Galbard. "Good luck."

The two men made as inconspicuous a dash around the corner of the building and to the entrance as they could muster, hoping to be in position for part two of the plan.

Meanwhile, in the dark and dingy basement passages near where prisoners were loaded onto the transports that would take them to city central jail, Gil and Captain Stanwich stood casually working their way through the security check points.

An overweight and underpaid city employee eyed the paper sacks stained with grease hanging from Gil's and Captain Stanwich's hands. "What's that?"

"Our lunch," replied Stanwich.

"Do you have any metal, explosives or electronic devices on you?" asked the guard for the four hundredth time that day.

"No," replied Gil firmly, extending the bag and placing it in a bin to be sent through a scanner, "just lunch."

The guard watched as the bag slid through the scanner and made its way to the rollers on the other side. "Step through please," he intoned.

Gil stepped through and picked up the bag. Just as he turned he saw two large guards and between them, Julie and Nicole! Gil stood motionless for but a moment, Stanwich was not through the detector yet and the girls were being ushered down a corridor, being led further away from them! He was not going to lose his Julie now, not again, not ever!

Something in Gil snapped, but it wasn't his tubing, it was a mental thing, an emotional thing. It was at this point that one could say, without fear of contradiction, that Gil Johnson lost his mind and found his sanity.

Later, the large, overfed and underpaid city employee would recount that before all hell broke loose, there was a sound, a most unusual sound. You could not put your finger on it, it was not a normal sound, but if he had to say what the noise was made by, he would have sworn that it had something to do with tubing, tubing being expanded. Yes, that was it; it was the sound of tubing suddenly becoming strong. He would tell his children and grandchildren that on that day, he was sure that was the sound he had heard just before the crazy man who had the greasy lunch bag screamed and flung himself at the two guards walking down the hallway. It was right after the scream that his recollection became foggy, because at that moment, after assessing the situation, Captain Stanwich had brought the greasy bag of day old zepolis down with a resounding thud on the guard's head, knocking him out cold.

***

Julie would remember a different sound. She had never heard Gil scream or really even raise his voice before that day, but somehow, instinctively she knew that the sound she was hearing was Gil's version of a war cry. Instinct took over and she grabbed Nicole's hand, pulling her down out of harms way just as the guard to their right slumped forward and went crashing to the ground.

Looking up she saw Gil, surrounded in her memory by a shining light, bringing his bag of zepolis to bare on the second guard. The man had no time to react, no time to do anything but topple heavily to the ground. She looked up in wonder, gazing up at this man whom she loved, his hair wild, his eyes crazed, a warrior holding a greasy bag of vengeance.

Grabbing her hand, Gil jerked her to her feet and kissed her, a short, hard, romantic kiss. "I've missed you so much," he said and then bellowing, "Let's get the hell out of here!"

Captain Stanwich had made his way through the detector and was already helping Nicole to her feet. "Mr. Tardy apologizes for not being here," he explained, "he's upstairs with Captain Galbard creating a distraction. You have my permission to date him if he doesn't get killed."

Nicole hugged her father, "Oh, thank you Daddy."

And then the alarms went off.

***

The main concourse on the first floor was a single massive room with steps sweeping up to the second floor on either side. The ceiling was arched upwards; three stories tall and every sound echoed against a beautiful old marble floor and brightly polished marble walls. Just beneath the stairs on the left stood a small newsstand, really just an opening in the marble with a small counter. People milled about, conferring with attorney's, meeting colleagues and speaking loudly in the general din. Captain Galbard leaned roguishly against a column that supported the stairway on one side of the main foyer while Mr. Tardy had maneuvered his way over to the newsstand across the way. Galbard kept a casual eye on the clock opposite the main doors until it struck ten minutes after the hour.

"Showtime!" he roared into the marble lined hall, the word still echoing amongst the pillars seemingly long after he had ripped off his shirt and punched out two guards and a few attorney's standing nearby.

Pandemonium reigned as Mr. Tardy casually tripped two guards running towards the sound of the fighting just before grabbing the newsstand gate and bring it crashing down on several patrons. Leaping to the side electrical panel he quickly shut them off, leaving the entire foyer in a musky darkness.

Galbard was by this time in the center of a massive melee involving guards, prisoners, lawyers, passer-bys, and tourists. The order of the day for all of the employees seemed to be to take advantage of the chaos and get revenge on the people who annoyed them on a day to day basis. Galbard would later relate that he had seen more guards punching guards than he had seen anyone else attacking them. Still, he kept up his end of the bargain for quite some time before glancing at the clock in the middle of the hall and then launching himself on to a table top.

"Tardy, let's go, they should have the girls!" he shouted over the din in the general direction that he had last seen his second in command.

Tardy did not respond immediately, having found a rather athletic guard who seemed determined to uphold both the law and his end of the fight. Still, after a heated contest, Tardy found himself punching his way towards the front doors with Captain Galbard in his sights. It was then that the alarms went off and he noticed for the first time the large, steel doors beginning to roll down over the entrance. A quick glance at the Captain showed that he, too, had seen the new danger and was making a mad sprint towards the opening.

Both men dove at the same moment and slid just beneath the cascade of steel and partially down the stairs of the main entrance as the metal gates came crashing down behind them. They rose quickly, bruised but safe.

"Do you think they have those doors down in the prisoners loading area?" asked Tardy.

"We've got to get Gil, Stanwich and the girls out of there," replied Galbard, breaking into a wild sprint down the rest of the stairs and around the side of the building.

***

Don sat back from the communications panel with a perplexed look on his face.

"You won't believe this, but they're reporting that a riot is taking place at the city court house," he said.

"That's got to be them," smiled Xiang, "it's the escape, I'd bet my life on it." Pushing a button on the Captain's chair she called out, "They've started the escape so make sure that we're set to go on a moments notice."

The communication device crackled slightly as Panther replied, "The engines are ready, the mazers are loaded and set and we are all ready to go as soon as they are within range."

Mad Matt's voice came over the speaker next, "I'm in the main gun battery ready to kill anything within a three click distance."

Chester's voice came over the speaker, shyly stating, "I'm standing by ready to secure the pincer once they're aboard. Once everything quiets down, I'll draw you a bath and we can talk all about it."

Xiang's eyes shined with joyful tears, "I can't wait huggy, wuggy bear."

Deep in the bowels of the main gun battery a voice could be heard, echoing throughout the quiet ship, "Oh, for crap's sake..."

Chapter 17

Guards poured out into the streets like worker bees in search of errant nectar. Tardy and Galbard had a large head start, however, and came racing full speed about the side of the building just in time to see the large metal garage door slam down with a horrible finality. Both men looked urgently around, but there was no sign of the girls, of Stanwich or of Gil.

"They must be trapped," snapped Galbard.

"How the heck are we going to get them out?" asked Tardy. "You'd need a tank to get through those doors!"

***

Gil, Stanwich and the girls had made a mad dash for the end of the corridor, following the direction that the guards had been taking Nicole and Julie. They used their zeppoli bags like machetes in a jungle, slashing their way through the guards responding to the alert. It was with daylight in sight that they had seen the first movement of the mechanism of their demise, a large steel door rushing downwards to cut off their escape. In addition to that terrifying specter an entire gaggle of guards suddenly swarmed out of two rooms, one on either side of the door, forming a wall of meat between the pirates and freedom.

With a click similar to the sudden and unpleasant sound Bambi's mother heard just before the hunter pulled the trigger and sent millions of kids into therapy with abandonment issues, the door finished its descent, trapping our heroes in an unpleasant predicament.

"Well, what have we here?" asked one female guard, manlier than any of the other guards by far. "So, you think you can break prisoners out of the central courthouse? Well not on my watch!"

The others grunted their assent, happy to provide a chorus to their spokesperson rather than going out to search for additional and potentially more threatening looking foes. The foursome slowly backed away down the corridor from which they had come, frantically looking for a means of escape but more guards appeared, cutting off every avenue of retreat.

***

Captain Stanwich has a slightly different outlook on life and those who love him know that any situation appears different seen through his eyes. Still, if one were to describe him fairly, the last thing one would say about him is that he is a pushy individual. It was for that reason that the other three, Nicole, Julie and Gil, were taken completely by surprise when he suddenly launched his body at them and pinned them all to the wall. Pinning people, even loved ones, or perhaps especially loved ones, to a wall was not a very Captain Stanwich type of thing to do, but suddenly, and apparently without reason, that is precisely what he did.

"What the..." began Gil, but before he could finish there was the sound of an explosion and dust and debris were flying all about them, covering them all in a thick, grey, concrete powder.

It took a moment for the dazed little group to realize that Captain Stanwich had heard what the rest of them had missed. That beneath the sinister agreement of the guards and the very manly taunts of their leader, there had been a noise. It was not the noise of the door, or of the alarm or of the running feet that had come to block off their escape, but the noise of a large engine being revved.

It had been Captain Stanwich's opinion that after the revving there had been the sound of gears being shifted and of a truck in full flight headed in their direction. Seeing as the only place a truck could park itself was on the spot where they all stood, it quickly became his opinion that getting as close to the wall as humanly possible was the most logical step, thus his launching of himself upon his companions.

As luck would have it, the Captain had heard correctly and before the smoke and dust had settled, one could easily make out the very prominent feature of a large truck that had slammed through the steel door and smashed it and the entire guard group, to pieces. From the truck's shattered cabin, a frightening vision descended, half woman, half truck parts and all pirate.

"Death to the oppressors!!!" screamed Gertrude the Pirate, staggering out of the cabin and collapsing upon the heap that had been the manly female guard.

"Miss Alshunt?" gaped Julie.

"No time to explain," shouted Gil, grabbing her and Nicole by the hands and bolting towards the door.

Stanwich righted himself, ran to Gertrude, scooped her up and deposited her over his shoulder, following Gil and the girls through the opening created by the truck. They had taken only a few steps towards freedom when they were joined by Captain Galbard and Mr. Tardy.

"Fancy meeting you here," smiled Galbard.

Tardy grabbed Nicole and kissed her. "Dad said we could date if you don't get killed," she said happily.

"I hope I don't get killed then," he smiled; blissfully unaware of how stupid he sounded.

"Transportation," shouted Galbard as he headed towards the street.

A quick glance back at the flood of guards pouring out of the building sealed the argument and the group ran in hot pursuit of Galbard, searching for a likely vehicle to commandeer. Fortune smiled on the little band as an old fashioned double-decker city tour bus loomed into view.

"Stop," yelled Galbard, "stop!!!"

The bus eased itself to a halt and the doors swung open to reveal a thin, nervous looking man perched behind what was arguably the world's largest steering wheel. "Do you have an all day pass?" he asked as the group bolted on board. "You need the all day pass to get on at this stop, otherwise you need to meet the bus at one of its pre-arranged destinations. Hey, don't push to get on board, calm yourselves and I need to see your passes..."

Galbard threw a quick glance back at the growing herd of security guards closing in on them and decided to throw the bus driver in the same direction. With an agility that confessed to the sins of a misspent youth, Galbard had the bus rolling down the street and onto the freeway before anyone could gain a seat.

"Have you driven a bus before?" asked Tardy.

"Do you think this is my first prison break?" asked Galbard, neatly cutting off an elderly driver and sending them into the guardrail. "I've driven busses out of prisons all over the world! Okay, okay, maybe not all over the world, but it is one of my specialties."

Captain Galbard proved as good as his word by maneuvering the bus through afternoon traffic and getting the dirty and disheveled crew back to the pincer ship on the lake in record time.

"Prepare to lift off," ordered Captain Stanwich briskly as he keyed in the ship's launch codes.

"Covers locked and secured," reported Captain Galbard. "Let's get back to the Intrepid Monkey!"

The communications station crackled to life as the ship's power began to make itself felt against the pull of gravity.

"Pincer one, this is the Intrepid Monkey," called out Yeoman Xiang. "What is your status?"

"We're coming in hot," replied Galbard, "we need to get on our way as soon as we have docked."

Xiang voice held in its depths a knowing smile, "We thought so, Pincer One. The landing dock is open and ready for your arrival; we are at battle stations and await your arrival. Course is set. Is everyone there alright?"

Galbard spun quickly in his chair and faced Gil with a smile, "Well Gil, is everyone all right?"

The question struck Gil. For the first time he realized the enormity of all that had happened. He looked about him, Galbard sitting before him, all confidence and daring do, Tardy, with his arm around Nicole, a young, handsome, hopeful couple on the brink of happiness, Captain Stanwich, eyes filled with a peacefully insane inner light, following a force that no one could see or understand but that they all, somehow, had learned to trust, Miss Alshunt, covered in powdered concrete, an ice bag on her head, looking more lovely than such an unattractive woman had a right to look. Finally, he looked at Julie, his beautiful, faithful Julie, disheveled in appearance but calm of demeanor, happily clasped in his arms, a strange, radiant smile on her face and in her eyes. He was holding her a great deal tighter than he normally did and he didn't care. He had surprised others no doubt, but strangely, after a lifetime of being average and mediocre, his sudden courage and action had not surprised himself. It had been love, all love. He knew the depth of his love for Julie, knew it had a power beyond him and his means. It had frightened him at times over the past day, but it had also given him a tremendous sense of strength and even calm in his worst hours. He held her even tighter and called out to Xiang happily, "We're all fine. Everyone here is very good."

As the little group smiled happily at their newly re-acquired lost sheep, Miss Alshunt quietly leaned forward and threw up.

***

"We should launch in about four minutes," Xiang reported to the large screen.

Cardinal Benny's face wore a scowled of concern, "We might not be here when you get back. Monitor the fleet's channels as best as you can and if Galbard comes up with something, fine, but I think we're goners here."

"Don't give up hope," replied Xiang. "Perhaps His Holiness could do something."

Cardinal Benny shook his head, "He can't be involved, we have too many other planets and too many other people we need to protect. I'm burning my credentials as we speak. In two more minutes Cardinal Benito will cease to be and I'll be Frankie Zambelli, tile worker. When danger comes, it is our duty to sacrifice our interests to a greater truth. Be careful and may God be with you." With that the screen went blank.

"We can't let them down," stated Don. "We need to do something."

"They're surrounded by seven hundred ships and we're eight hours away," replied Xiang. "I don't think even Captain Galbard could come up with a winning plan on this one."

"He's not working alone now," countered Don. "He's got Captain Stanwich and Mr. Tardy and let's not forget Gil. He's pretty brainy, too. A bit of an odd ball, I'll admit, but pretty smart..."

Panther was thrown out of the elevator by the ghost of Pringles the dog. Righting himself while swearing an oath under his breath, he announced, "I've got the engines ready, I thought I had better get up here in case you need help."

"They aren't being pursued yet," stated Xiang. "Still, we had better get out of here the minute they dock. I just spoke to Cardinal Benny, they're surrounded and he doesn't hold out much hope."

Panther shook his head, "I'll never get to take Anne out. I finally find someone who seems decent and what happens, an invading armada. Man, happens every time!"

A small, red light began to beep incessantly on the navigator's control panel. Xiang crossed over to it quickly and examined the data. "They're coming in hot. I'm sure there will be several ships launched from the planet's surface shortly. Bring us to full alert and let's hope that we don't see too much action."

"Speaking of too much action," said Panther tactfully, "now that you are engaged to Chester, isn't Captain Galbard going to kill him?"

Xiang stumbled back against the console, the thought having never occurred to her.

"I don't know," she stammered.

"Look," replied Panther, "Chester may be a bit odd, but he's one of us and we look out for each other. Okay, maybe not Mad Matt, but Don and I are concerned. Galbard is a trained killing machine, Chester cries if a bug dies while he is watching the nature channel. When they meet, I don't think it is going to be an even match."

"Captain Galbard is also a Captain," stated Don. "If the Captain wants your woman, you have to give her to him."

Panther grimaced, "No, you don't. Who told you that?"

"Mad Matt," responded Don. "He said it was the duty of the crew to see that the captain's needs are satisfied and that it is in our contracts."

Panther returned his attention to Xiang, "Look, I don't know what is in their contracts, I know it's not in mine, because I keep a look out for things like that in anything I sign, but either way, we're pirates now and you can't enforce that contract. Also, technically, Galbard is your Captain, not Chester's..."

"Right," interrupted Don, "so now Captain Stanwich can have you, too."

"I've never heard of that clause in any contract," replied Xiang. "Perhaps it was done in Mad Matt's contract for obvious reasons. It only makes sense that they should seek to hinder contact between him and other humans, but not Chester. No, I'm sorry gentlemen, I will speak to Captain Galbard and I will speak to him of the love I have for Chester and I will trust in love!"

Standing quietly, Panther nodded, "That is a noble and loving sentiment, but I think perhaps it would be best if we spoke to him first and explain that while we respect him, we can't let him kill Chester. Let's face it, if Galbard and Chester go at it, Galbard is going to leave of Chester is a stain."

Xiang crossed to him, tears in her eyes, "Will you help my Chester?"

"From what I've seen, I don't think God Himself could help your Chester, regardless if Galbard gets hold of him or not, but I'll do my best."

Another light flashed brightly on the navigator's console.

"They've docked," snapped Xiang. Looking at the view screen, she took control of the Intrepid Monkey, "and they are being followed. Chester, angel, seal the outside lock on the pincer dock and let's get out of here!"

The speaker crackled to life, "Done my wittle wubby."

Xiang looked to Panther, "He must be saved."

Panther nodded, even though he was thinking that Galbard might be doing them all a service.

***

Fitzpatrick stood on the bridge, the very model of competent command. His plan was working beautifully, the planet was surrounded, his batteries in position, his force at the ready. Sensors had picked up a single, concentrated area of occupation on the planet's surface. Adjusting his Jim Andrews Memorial tee shirt, the one everyone was wearing now instead of their regular uniforms, he called out to the communications desk. "Hail the pirate horde!"

Everyone on the bridge immediately snapped into a salute and cried out, "Hail the pirate horde!"

Masterson cleared his throat, "No, no. I think he means open up a hailing frequency to the pirate commanders."

"That's exactly what I mean," snapped Fitzpatrick. "What is wrong with you people? Why would I want you to hail our enemy? I'm surrounded by idiots again, Masterson!"

"Patriotic idiots, sir," responded Masterson, "fools for glory! Morons for peace."

"True, true," countered Fitzpatrick. "Everyone of them worth ten pirates, that's for certain!"

"Without a doubt, sir," replied Masterson. "Now, about that hailing frequency..."

Turning to the communications officer, they waited a moment for a signal, which she eventually gave. "This is Commander Fitzpatrick of the United Planetary Forces. We have your planet surrounded. I am ordering your complete, total and unconditional immediate surrender!"

Silence ruled the bridge for a few moments and then a voice crackled to life over the speakers, a voice of rebellion and defiance.

"Naw, naw, whad is dis immediate surwander? Whad is dat? Naw, naw, I am creating, creating art, creating life, creating fashionses, there is naw surwander fof fashionses, der is surwander tooo fashionses! You surwander, dats what I say, you surwander!"

The bridge froze at the chilling reply.

"What the hell was that?" asked Fitzpatrick.

"Secret pirate language, no doubt," stated Masterson. "I think he is summoning other ships in the area to attack us!"

Both men looked to the sensor charts, but there did not seem to be anything other than their own seven hundred ships in the area.

"If he is summoning other ships, our force will be caught between their ships and their planet," reasoned Fitzpatrick. "We'll be fighting on two fronts, which militarily speaking is a no-no."

"We have to act fast," stated Masterson.

"We're government people, Masterson," corrected Fitzpatrick. "We have no experience in acting in a timely fashion, never mind quickly."

"True, sir, true," agreed Masterson, "but you are a rebel, sir, a man of action, a man who thinks last and acts first. Whenever we have reached a crisis, have you ever delayed, sir? Have you ever stopped to think? No, sir, you've reacted, reacted like all the great ones, sir. Like Napoleon, or Patton, or Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid..."

"Didn't they run out of the relative safety of a building and into an army that shot them?" asked Fitzpatrick.

"Glory comes at a price, sir," replied Masterson. "The question always remains, are you willing to pay the price?"

Fitzpatrick considered it. "Communications, put me through to all of the ships of the line."

The communications officer manipulated a number of switches and buttons, "Awaiting your orders, commander."

Fitzpatrick stood forward, "To all vessels under my command, this is Commander Fitzpatrick! Open fire!"

***

Don shook his head, "They gave the order to fire. It won't be long now."

"I thought they would just invade," stated Tardy in a whisper, "I never thought they would try to destroy the planet."

"How long can they last?" asked Nicole.

"I never heard the order to raise the shield," stated Don. "They never even defended themselves."

"They sacrificed themselves for us," stated Stanwich solemnly.

The crew sat around the long table in the cafeteria in silence for a long time before they began discussing their options. The government ships that had followed them from earth had been unable to jump into hyperspace quickly enough to follow them and were a forgotten memory as the enormity of their situation descended upon them. Well, most of them.

Suddenly, Gil felt an elbow in his ribs. He found himself looking at Don, who drew closer and whispered, "Who's the babe?"

Gil glanced around, coming to the only logical conclusion, "My wife."

"No, no," whispered Don, "the one sitting next to her."

"Miss Alshunt?" Gil's face twisted into a grimace. "A babe???"

"I'm not offended," stated Miss Alshunt, misreading Gil's reaction. "I expected a looser type of morality amongst pirates."

"Blind and insane pirates maybe," scoffed Mad Matt.

"Seven hundred to one," stated Gil softly, returning to the general thought. "Seven hundred to one. What could we possibly have done to an armada that size?"

"The best we could have hoped for would have been to distract them in some way," replied Tardy. "It might have given some of them a chance to get away, but..."

"But what do we do now?" asked Nicole. "We have no home port. We have no where to go. There is no Zooks to go back too, there is nothing left."

"Our friends are gone," said Julie softly. "What are we going to do?"

"I never got to take Anne out," said Panther. "I never had a chance to get to know her."

"I knew I should have gotten the buffet at that Amish all-you-can-eat place," stated Mad Matt. "No, I had to go for the salad, watch your weight. Watch your weight my butt, next time I'm doing the buffet, the future is a fickle mistress..."

"Okay people, okay," said Galbard happily. "Settle down. Don't you know it is always darkest before the dawn? We can fix this we just need a little science, a little luck and a little daring."

The others instantly perked up. Captain Galbard sounded so breezy, so confident, so self assured that they were willing to hope against reason and to forget that thinking was not normally his strong suit. "All we have to do is go back in time," he stated reasonably. "We take the Intrepid Monkey and drive to within two clicks of the sun, then, we use the tremendous gravitational pull to launch us back through time and space, back through time to two days ago before the armada arrived, while still retaining Gil and Julie's furniture. We off load the furniture, then we go out, confront the fleet, lead them away from the planet on a wild goose chase and then return safely to resume our pirate activities. Simple."

The others stood in momentary awe of the scenario until Mr. Tardy softly cleared his throat. "Okay, as nice as that sounds, there are some holes in the plan. First off, if we get within two clicks of the sun, the gravitational pull will sweep us into the center of the sun and we will all die. Secondly, if we went back in time, it would be to a time before we had the furniture and everything would revert back to how it was at that time, so we would have to go back to earth and relive the two days we lived without much change, or we would alter the course of human history and possibly bring on an even greater disaster than the loss of Zooks. Finally, despite all the theories, no one has ever successfully accomplished time travel and looking about me, I have to think that we would be crazy to reason that this is the group that is going to accomplish it first."

The others looked back to Galbard for a counter argument. "Skip, you are way too negative. You find fault in everything. Nicole, I would watch that in him because it could eventually affect your relationship."

"Any other ideas," asked Gil.

"I have one," stated Stanwich. "We can't save Zooks, I think that is a foregone conclusion, but there are other planets we can call home. How about Allah's Acres or Boca? They're still hiding and in need of supplies and protection. Without the other pirates, they're going to need all the help we can give them. We've suffered a set back, no doubt, but Cardinal Benny and the Amish didn't die in vain. They died in part not to sell out all of the other peoples and us. No, the ties that bind run beyond death for us, we still belong to a band of brothers and even if our strong hold is over run, there are still people we need to care for and help. I say we do what we can for our friends when we can do it, but in the meantime, we help those in need."

Julie nodded, "Captain Stanwich is right. A statement that sounds ridiculous even to my own ears, I admit, but he is right. We are needed more now than ever. This ship and its mission has to be to help others, Cardinal Benny helped us to become part of a coalition based upon love and respect for other people and he would want us to honor that commitment. Besides, Zooks isn't just a place where we lived, it's an idea. Our home is where ever we are, together. This whole experience has made me realize that; as long as I have Gil by my side, I have my home, as long as I have the rest of you beside me, I have my family and as long as I can help others, I have my purpose."

"I don't see the point in living without killing at least some of them," stated Mad Matt. "It's not just for me now, it's to honor those whom we've lost."

"So what do we do?" asked Gil. "Where do we go?"

"I think we should go back to where Zooks was," said Nicole. "I think we should go back and see if there is anything we can do. I know it is doubtful, but there might have been survivors. If not, then let's head out to one of the other planets. Perhaps we can get directions by calling the Vatican Library..."

"Of course!" snapped Tardy. "Why didn't I think of that? They would be able to tell us what we should do!"

The others murmured their ascent.

"To the bridge," cried Galbard. "Time to find out where we stand!"

***

The rubble from the planet floated passed the viewing screens as Fitzpatrick looked out upon the darkness of space philosophically. "They were alive, so we had to kill them," he stated. "They refused to surrender, so we did our duty!"

"We should have the president on the line shortly," stated Masterson. "It seems as if our mission has been a tremendous success. We set out to kill everyone we met and we've done it. I see a promotion for you, sir, Lord only knows how far you will rise. Congress, the Senate, perhaps even the Presidency itself! I believe, sir, that you will be asked to wield enormous power in the future, perhaps," he stated reverently, "you might even get your own talk show."

"I've killed well," agreed Fitzpatrick, "but no matter where my bravery takes me, no matter how far I rise or powerful I become, I want people to associate two words with me, to think of them as my motto; class and sophistication. We should help the little people, Masterson; we should use our power for good. If I were to get my own talk show and I'm not saying I would do a talk show unless I have creative control and choice of producer, I want to help people. I want to make a difference in the lives of ordinary people, I want to stand up as the voice of the unnamed masses and say, "Yes, you are the baby's father", can you understand that Masterson?"

"Purity such as yours, sir, is rarely seen, never mind so lucratively rewarded. I believe the president is on the line, Commander..."

Chapter 18

The communications console on the Intrepid Monkey crackled to life, "Intrepid Monkey, this is Zooks, Intrepid Monkey, this is Zooks, do you read us?"

The small group froze, staring at the console.

"Do you think it's a trap?" asked Tardy.

"What do our sensors say?" asked Galbard, rising to check them himself. "There is no one around, if it is a trap, they would only be able to get a general idea of our position. I say we answer it."

Captain Stanwich leaned towards the console, "This is the Intrepid Monkey, come in Zooks."

A voice like the backfiring of a car replied, "Where are you guys?"

Excited glances were exchanged as Stanwich replied, "Cardinal Benny, is that you?"

"Put on your view screen and find out," replied the voice. Immediately Stanwich clicked on the screen and the familiar, big nosed face stared back at them sternly. "Thanks for nothing, we had a hot time here a little while ago and where was our one ship? Is everyone there alright?"

"We thought they blew you up?" replied Stanwich. "We heard them give the order to fire!"

"And they did fire," replied the Cardinal, "they blew up our moon. I have no idea why they would blow it up or what they found there, but it isn't there anymore. We listened to the communications between them and apparently someone or something was on the surface, but they aren't there anymore, in fact, there's nothing there anymore. Poof, gone! Then all seven hundred ships just took off."

The crew let out a cheer. "We were so worried about you," called out Julie.

"You were worried?" replied the Cardinal, "I was Frankie Zambelli, tile man, for about eight minutes. I used to install tile as a kid, you know what hard work that is? You think I wanted to go back to that now? You gotta be crazy!"

"We're just so happy you're alive," said Nicole, hugging Tardy tightly to her.

"Yeah, I'm pretty thrilled about that myself. Did you guys successfully complete your mission?"

"The furniture is all on board," replied Galbard, "and we successfully gave the security forces the slip."

"Well, whatever you do, don't bring them back here," replied Cardinal Benny. "Get home as soon as you can, we've got a lot to discuss." With that, the screen went blank.

***

Later that day, Galbard sat on the sofa in his quarters, a quizzical look on his face. "I risked my life to get Gil and Julie's furniture and Xiang had an affair with...Chewbacca?"

"No, no, no," replied Mad Matt, "his ass looks like the back of Chewbacca's head..."

"I think you are missing the point," interrupted Panther. "Yeoman Xiang and Chester are in love and they're getting married. I know, I know, in the scheme of things, it's so incredibly wrong it makes one question the meaning of life, but it seems to be the truth of the matter. The thing is, we don't want you to hurt or kill Chester, or Xiang for that matter. This thing just kind of happened, he never meant to hurt you, he's a good guy. We're hoping you'll be a big man and give him a pass on this..."

Galbard considered their plea, "Gentlemen, could you send in Mr. Tardy, I would like to speak with him about this."

The two nodded and exited, hopeful that a heart to heart with his best friend would allow Captain Galbard the support he needed not to kill Chester.

Tardy entered tentatively, "How are you, Captain?"

Galbard looked up at him to make sure they were alone before he allowed the sense of relief to wash over his features. "Did you hear? She dumped me! She's going to hook some other poor idiot! She's not moving into my place!" Jumping up, he did a happy dance. "Tardy, I dodged the bullet. God took that strange little man and turned him into my angel of mercy! In one day, a glorious raid, a triumphant return and no more "housemate"!!! Who does God like better than me, Tardy? No one!!"

Tardy nodded astutely, "Still, you can't seem too happy. It will work against you. Just tell the poor fellow that you concede the prize and wish him the best of luck."

"Good thinking," replied Galbard. "I'll try my best to seem sad, but I'm so happy. I'm back in the game, Tardy. Mind you, I will miss her, she's a sweet gal and no one knows more about the soaps and she's like an acrobat..."

"You're doing what's best for both of you, Captain. She gets a steady, reliable, strange and apparently hairy husband and you get your freedom and the opportunity to scratch whatever you want, when ever you want."

"True, true and true," replied Galbard. "Why don't you send them in and let me congratulate the happy couple."

***

A week later Cardinal Benny looked solemnly at the face that filled his view screen, the face of an elderly man dressed all in white, a large pectoral cross hanging from his chest.

Solemnly, the man in white spoke, "I understand almost everything, but the idea of a lion's head on a rabbit's body; I don't think that the Church can condone that..."

"I don't think we need an official ruling on that one, your Holiness," replied the Cardinal. "I think they probably wouldn't understand it even if you explained it to them."

The Pope shrugged, happy to have dodged the bullet on that one. His thoughts returned to the planetary force that had attacked so near to Zooks. "As I was saying Benito, apparently, as far as we can discern, they believed you and your pirates were on that moon. They found something there, some sort of settlement..."

"I assure you, your Holiness, there was no one there that we knew of," replied the Cardinal. "Whoever was up there, they didn't have our permission to be there and after speaking to our scientists, I'm satisfied that they have no idea that anyone was up there either."

The Pope nodded sagely, "Still, it was an extremely close call. You have to rein them in for the time being, Benito, it will come to no good if you are found. If my sources are correct, we are going to need every ship available for this new crisis we will be facing, we can't afford to lose any of them. It will be upon us shortly."

"The new crisis?" asked the Cardinal. "Who needs to leave the planet now?"

The Pope leaned in closer to the screen, his voice taking on a more confidential tone, "Have you ever heard of a little group called, the Swiss?"

Cardinal Benny's eyes narrowed, "The Swiss? Why would the Swiss have to leave? They haven't fought a war in over a thousand years, they make chocolate, cheese and cuckoo clocks, they don't bother anyone..."

The Pope leaned back with a shrug, "Non-violent behavior always makes the government suspicious. You can't go walking about peacefully and expect there not to be ramifications. We've found a little planet with beautiful mountains, clear streams, good skiing and plenty of forests. Keep your people on planet for the next six months, by then they will be forgotten and once they are, we can start the Swiss relocation project. I'm thinking of calling it Operation Heidi..."

Cardinal Benny moaned, mumbling "Only four more years to retirement..."

***

Two weeks later, Mad Matt looked from Panther to Anne and back again. "What is your full name?" he asked.

Anne looked for confirmation to Panther before replying, "My name is Bethusda Anne Natanka Richardson."

Mad Matt shook his head. "He didn't tell me that," he replied and then looking at Panther he nodded, "she's fine."

Panther laughed, "I know she is."

Anne swatted him playfully.

"No idiot, she's fine, she's not a spy. You didn't tell me she had two middle names, it makes sense now," replied Matt.

"How does it make sense?" asked Panther.

"Bethusda Anne Natanka Richardson," stated Matt in a bored voice. "Her mother was an R and B singer, her father delivered packages for a courier service."

Anne stared at him in amazement, "How did you know that?"

Panther looked at her in shock, "He's right?"

"Yes," she stated. "How did you know what my mother did and who my father was?"

Matt rolled his eyes, "It's so obvious, please. You've got an older brother and two younger sisters. After your mother retired from singing she opened up a catering business. Your father hates golf, you have an uncle who is cross eyed and you always wanted a dog but your father wouldn't let you get one because he would have gotten stuck walking it."

Anne's eyes grew large, "How did you know about the dog? And my father hating golf? And my brothers and sisters? How did you know about my cross eyed Uncle Peanut?"

Mad Matt looked at the two of them, "It's as plain as the nose on your face. You just have to know how to read people..."

***

A month later, the enormous banner stood stiffly against the wind on the tarmac, the dignitaries squirming against the brutal, midday sun. The President sat on a slightly raised dais, his Jim Andrews Memorial Arm Band cutting off the circulation to his left arm.

The huge ship descended slowly, the band playing a crisp military march. Slowly, the ship touched down mere feet from the dais, greeted by a thunderous round of applause.

It was several more minutes before Commander Fitzpatrick emerged alone to face the rousing response of the crowds. Waving to people in the crowd he did not know, he made his way along the line of dignitaries, finally achieving the dais and shaking hands with the President.

The speeches that followed lauded the Commander's prowess and the dedication of the fleet. Together the two men unveiled a Jim Andrews Memorial Statue, a bronze of a tall, muscular man, an Interplanetary flag in one hand, a bottle of whiskey in the other with the words "Death to Pirates" inscribed on the bottom. Many thought, after viewing the made for TV movie about his life, that the statue looked more like Jim Andrews than Jim Andrews ever had, thanks to the actor who portrayed him having sat as the model for the statue.

Only one small fly seemed to have made its way into the ointment and that was the general lack of media attention. The larger outlets had sent representatives, but the big story this week was the death of fashion icon, Bruno Matagliano von Spritzer Deutche and his muse, Geeana in a plane crash over Bolivia. Apparently the duo had been linked romantically and the famously homosexual designer had finally consented to be a bride when, on their way to wed, their plane developed engine trouble and crashed into the rocky seashore, in or by the ocean. Or it might have been a cliff. Or a mountain. Reports were conflicting and there was even a Bruno-was-assassinated-by-the-government rumor, but it was all hear-say. The only thing for certain was that the memorial service, being held the same day as the fleet's return, was very fashionable and attended by people far better looking and wearing substantially less clothing than the ones who were on the dais.

It would be two more years before the President was re-elected by a landslide against a valiant effort by Commander Fitzpatrick to unseat him. Despite the disappointing loss, the Commander was able to console himself with the fact that he had served his planet well and that his talk show was listed at number three in the Knowitall Ratings, right behind the CBS Evening News Replay with Walter Cronkite and "Bebe and Friends".

***

Six weeks later, on the day before Gil's birthday, three adventurers stood in the doorway of the enormous, old barn, one of over 30 barns and silos that were used to store supplies on Zooks.

"Now that the Cardinal has placed me in charge of the warehousing of all of the pirate plunder, I'm going to need a dependable secretary," stated Gil. Julie, Gertrude and he wandered about the massive structure, eyeing the huge quantities of supplies that stood neatly stacked through out the building. "It isn't a glamorous job, but it comes with a nice salary and vacation time, sick leave, medical and a retirement package. Also, there is housing not far from here..."

"Will there be any need to go on missions again?" asked Gertrude, unconsciously rubbing the spot where she had sported the bump on her head.

"Not if you don't want to," replied Julie. "Still, after seeing you in action, both Captain Galbard and Captain Stanwich said they would be happy for you to join their crews."

Gertrude considered it. "I thank you for the chance, Mr. Johnson..." she hesitated at his reproachful glance, "Gil. I mean, Gil. The thing is I've spent the last twenty years getting bosses crappy coffee and pushing paper work and I want to go out and experience life a little. Mind you, I know the bump on the head was a warning, but I'm still determined to add a bit more to the story of "Gertrude the Pirate" before I give up on adventure."

"Gertrude," smiled Gil, "I certainly can understand. When the time comes, if the time ever comes, your job will always be waiting for you. Till then, I'll just have to manage without you, but if Julie will help me out, I think we'll be alright."

"Who do you think you'll sign on with?" asked Julie.

Miss Alshunt gave her a slight smile, "Well, I'm not quite sure, but I'm leaning towards the Intrepid Monkey. Captain Galbard doesn't have a ship yet and he's got a huge crew already. Besides, you know that fellow Don?"

"Yes, we know Don..." replied Gil.

"Well," she stated, "he sort of let it be known that he would like to have me aboard on their next mission, if you catch my drift. Not a bad incentive if you ask me."

Julie smiled at her, "No. That isn't a bad incentive at all."

"He was very flattering," replied Gertrude. "He even asked me to the pictures this weekend. Mind you, I don't agree with dating co-workers, but we are all adults and pirates, so I have consented to bend the rules this time." She gave them an abrupt laugh, "It seems that's all I've been doing lately and I like it!"

Julie draped an arm around Gil's waist and gave him a slight squeeze. Since her rescue they constantly held each other, as if to make sure that they were never so far apart that one or the other would ever need rescuing again. "Sometimes the best way to test a rule is to bend it a bit," she laughed. "I guess getting you crappy coffee will be my job, at least for a little while."

"As long as I know that you're here and I don't have to break you out of prison, I don't care what the coffee tastes like!" He hugged her tighter and listened to his tubing. No strain what so ever, he was sure he would last for years!

***

Six months later, Captain Stanwich sat on the balcony of Mr. Tardy's second story apartment admiring the view. The plate of spaghetti that Nicole had just placed in front of him caught his attention and he smiled up at his daughter.

"I forgot the grated cheese," stated Nicole as she examined the table. "I'll be right back."

With a smile, she disappeared back into the apartment.

Leaning over to Captain Stanwich, Tardy stated softly, "I'd like, with your permission, to marry your daughter."

The suggestion took the Captain completely by surprise. Yes, they had been dating for the last six months or so and he had overcome his suspicions of Tardy, but he somehow had not thought it would lead to this. Just about every night, the two of them would get together for dinner and Nicole would come home and tell him about how wonderful Skip was and then she'd kiss him good night and go to bed. He had been lulled into a false sense of security, had grown comfortable with the arrangement and now, Tardy was asking his permission to change everything.

"Have you asked her?" Stanwich stammered, not sure what to say.

"No, sir," replied Tardy. "Out of respect for you, I wanted to ask your permission first and then I'll ask Nicole, hopefully with your blessing."

Captain Stanwich stared quietly at his food. Nicole was his life, all he had in the world, besides, of course, the ship and the crew. Like all fathers, he wanted what was best for her. True, this fellow seemed so nice and she seemed so happy with him, but still... Stanwich had hoped for something a bit more stable for his little girl, something a little less worrisome than being the wife of a pirate. Still, he had never seen her so happy. On the ride over, even he had noticed how anxious she was to arrive, to see her "boyfriend". Dinner had been Tardy's idea, but as soon as they had arrived, she had shushed him out onto the balcony with her father and had taken over everything. She was here so much that she knew where everything was, it was like she lived here anyway, but she had always come home before, had always stopped in and kissed him good night, had always checked on him as much as he had checked on her. Now what would happen?

Still, he looked at Tardy with his hopeful expression and he remembered her smile when they had gotten here...who was he to stand in the way of her happiness? He felt guilty. He knew he was being selfish, that it was time that she leave him even though that was a hard thing to consider. He loved his daughter and he knew she loved him, which was all well and good, but besides all of that, he really just liked having her around.

In the beginning, it will be lonely, he cautioned himself. He would have to do something to combat the loneliness that would most certainly overtake him. Perhaps he could get a pet, something soft, like a rabbit, or a little puppy or a turtle. Not that turtles were soft, though of course parts of them were, but they were, in his experience, very affectionate creatures. Well, not affectionate like a puppy, it wasn't that they licked your face and danced about and were happy to see you no matter when you came in, no, turtles were more dignified. He could understand why cartoonists always seemed to draw turtles with bow ties, it suited their inherent dignity. A rabbit in a bow tie, now that was just being sarcastic, because everyone knew a rabbit would sooner or later just cause trouble, but a turtle, now there was a dignified creature...

Nicole stepped back out on the terrace and looked at the two of them. In an instant she knew that something had happened but she was unsure of what it could be. Tardy seemed to be looking anxiously at her father who seemed lost in some sort of deep thought.

Quietly she slid back into her chair, placing the grated cheese on the table near her father.

"Are you alright, Dad?" asked Nicole.

Stanwich looked to her, then to Tardy, and then down at the little bowl his daughter had deposited at his elbow. Grated cheese, he mused, it was like icing for spaghetti and meatballs! From the cheese, his eyes wandered over the hill that was his spaghetti and it was then that he noticed it, just below a ridge of spaghetti and sauce, a meatball peeking out at him. He smiled, he knew what this was! This was God telling him, life changes, like the first time you put grated cheese on your spaghetti and meatballs. Could an addition make something wonderful even more so? He had hesitated then, but he had loved grated cheese and now, looking at the two young people who stared at him awaiting his decision, he knew he would love the grated cheese all over again. God was reminding him, have no fears, there will always be spaghetti and meatballs with icing when you least expect them.

"Everything is fine, Nicky," he stated, his smile growing wider. Turning his attention to Mr. Tardy, he winked, "Isn't it, son?"

###

I would like to thank you for reading "Flight of the Intrepid Monkey". I hope that you have enjoyed this novel, If you did, I encourage you to check out my other works at www.smashwords.com/books/search?query=mac+Zazski . I also I invite you to let me know what you thought of this book by contacting me at **:maczazski@hotmail.com**. Thanks again for choosing "Flight of the Intrepid Monkey"; I look forward to hearing from you!

