Ascending - James Alan Gardner [159]
Festina stared at him. “You’re scary.”
“Babe, you don’t know the half of it.” Inside the alien’s throat, one of his crimson eyes winked.
“And you couldn’t have arranged for that to happen five minutes earlier?”
“Sorry,” the Pollisand said. “Lesser species have to fight their own battles.”
Festina grimaced. “Now that the battle’s over, how about arranging for this old decrepit ship to have a breakdown in its master command module? A short circuit that screws up security protocols and makes it possible for us to issue commands without worrying about passwords or voice identification…”
The lights in the room flickered. A raspy voice spoke from the ceiling in my own tongue. “Reporting a major malfunction in security module 13953,” the voice said. “Awaiting your orders, Captain.”
I looked toward Festina expecting her to answer; but then I remembered she did not speak Shaddill and therefore could not understand what the raspy voice said. “Are you speaking to me?” I asked the ceiling. “You believe I am the captain?”
“Affirmative. Awaiting orders.”
“Uhh…do not repair the security malfunction. I shall give further orders soon.”
Festina looked quickly back and forth between the Pollisand and me. “Was that what I think it was?”
“I am now in command of this vessel,” I announced. “It seems I am excellently well-suited for a career in the navy: I have gone from communications officer to Explorer to captain in just a few hours.”
“Don’t stop yet,” Festina muttered. “If we get out of here and bring down the Admiralty, you may end up head of the new High Council.”
“If I do,” I told her, “I will not forget the little people who helped me along the way.” I gave her arm a reassuring pat, but Festina did not look reassured at all.
I Become A True Explorer
Released from their bondage, Uclod and Lajoolie had fallen into one another’s arms…which is to say, Lajoolie was hugging her husband so fiercely his orange skin had darkened several shades. He did not object in the least.
Meanwhile, Sergeant Aarhus sloshed damply toward us, his navy boots going squish-squish-squish. “So,” he said, “did we win?”
“The Shaddill no longer exist,” the Pollisand answered. “Not as Shaddill anyway.”
“In which case,” I said, “it is time for you to honor our agreement.”
“What agreement?” Festina asked.
“I will explain later,” I told her. “It is time for Mr. Pollisand to cure my brain…and if you say the remedy is to turn myself into purple goo, I shall punch you in a manner you will find most painful.”
“Yeah, well…” The Pollisand looked down at his forefeet and shuffled in the dirt. “Suppose I told you the remedy was to turn a bit of yourself into purple goo.”
“Then I should still punch you very hard.”
“Oh come on, darlin’,” he said, “it’s the cleanest solution to your problem. Sure, I could toss you onto an operating table and rewire your whole brain…but that’d leave you a completely different person. Certainly not the warm and generous bundle of joy we’ve all come to love.”
I narrowed my eyes at him and balled up my fist in a meaningful way.
“On the other hand,” he said quickly, “if we just dab some honey on your skin, a tiny patch of you will go transcendent—uplifting just enough of your consciousness to get you past the Tiredness.”
“Uplifting her consciousness?” Festina asked. “Sounds like bullshit to me.”
The Pollisand growled at her. “Give me a break, Ramos. If you want, I can give a ten-hour lecture on how it’ll release certain hormones to overcome certain other hormones that tend to suppress yet another group of hormones, and blah blah blah. But the long and the short is if she accepts a teeny-tiny-eensy-weensy transformation, it’ll be enough to offset the physiological processes that are gradually deadening her brain. And,” he added, winking at me, “it’ll kick in a long-overdue maturation process that the Shaddill artificially repressed. My little girl,” sniffle, “will start growing up.”
Festina glared at him. “Are you sure this isn’t just a prank for your own amusement? Are