“Ow,” commented Captain-General Tvanir of the Aroruan Occupation Legion as
she walked into a wall. This was not something she did frequently, mind
you, but at the moment her considerable wall-avoiding skills were hampered
by the blindfold she was wearing, which was preventing her from seeing the
walls before she hit them.
“Careful of the walls, there,” Garav, her captor, advised.
“I would be,” Tvanir answered, “except I can’t see them.”
“Have a seat,” Garav said. “We’re there.”
She sat, and immediately regretted it since the chair was too low for
her to stand up without using her hands, which were currently tied behind
her. Garav removed her blindfold, and Tvanir looked around. Nothing in the
room identified where they were. “So much for that,” she muttered.
“Eh?” asked a voice behind her.
“Who’s there?” Tvanir said, unable to look behind her.
“I am called Bentor,” the voice said, walking around her. “My real
name, obviously, is secret.”
“If you say so,” Boltar said uncertainly. Tvanir looked at him, and
noted that he was tied up as well.
“So,” Tvanir said, “are you the group working with Princess Elim?”
“We were,” Bentor replied, “until she betrayed us to Governor Jjana.”
Tvanir blinked. “But … he’s working with you, isn’t he?”
“Er … not that I know of,” Bentor said, sounding confused.
They paused for a few seconds, trying to deduce who was lying, or just
confused.
“Hey, Secret,” Boltar said, “did you ever notice that ‘Bentor’ and
‘Boltar’ sound really similar?”
Tvanir sighed. This was going to be a long captivity.
With a soundless burst of light, the Zakavian Third Fleet arrived at Arorua.
In its flagship, the IZS Absurd Physical Harm, Captain-General Mselt sent
a message to inform Prince Lotekh of their arrival and prepared to travel
down to the palace.
Elsewhere in the ship, the four members of the Blue Squadron who had
managed to escape Planet Gloom, argued with a minor officer over whether
they should be allowed to visit the surface. “No,” the minor officer said.
“I can’t let you leave the ship until you upgrade the food dispensers to
flagship specifications. It’s why you’re here in the first place.”
“Listen,” Roger Vasta, their leader, said, “philosophers have debated
for centuries about why we’re here—I think it’s highly unlikely
you’ve somehow stumbled across the answer.”
“That’s not what I meant!” the minor officer fumed. “Anyway, you can’t
leave until you do your job! Keep arguing and I’ll tell the
Captain-General!”
Vasta grimaced. Captain-General Mselt was unlikely to have forgotten
that they used to be his prisoners. “Dent,” he said, gesturing to the minor
officer.
“Right,” Dent said, a smile on his face. He pulled his Kilemov S13
rifle from somewhere in his borrowed uniform and blasted the minor official.
Several times.
“Er, Dent,” Alex McCurry said, “those were deathkill blasts.”
“We knows that,” Dent replied, his smile taking on a disturbing aspect.
“Will you knock that off?” Samantha Dixon said, smacking him over the
head.
“Stop it! You hurts us!” Dent cried.
“No need to get violent,” McCurry told Dixon.
“Feh,” Dixon spat.
“Anyway,” Vasta said, “we now need a way to get to the planet. I guess
we’ll have to sneak onto Mselt’s transport.”
“What!?” Dixon demanded.
“‘Sneak onto Mselt’s transport’,” Vasta repeated.
“I heard that. I’m asking if you’ve lost your mind.”
“Not at all. We’ll go in disguise.”
“Good idea!” McCurry said.
“Of course it’s a good idea!” Vasta snapped.
Captain-General Mselt, whose position has been described earlier in this
episode, relaxed as the transport touched down on the surface of Arorua.
Beside him, Prince Lotekh stared out the window, unused to a landscape that
was merely bland, as opposed to bleak and foreboding. Behind him sat four
people that Mselt swore he should remember, except that their false noses,
thick mustaches (even on the female), and black eyeglasses didn’t match
anyone he recognized. Presumably they were the Vending Machine Technicians
that Supreme Captain-Commander Kvasha had sent.
The hatch opened and Mselt and Lotekh walked out onto the landing pad,
where Governor Jjana awaited them. The four technicians hurried off into
the distance, but Mselt paid them no mind. Judging by the bill they’d left
him they’d done an impressive job.
“So, Governor Jjana,” Lotekh said in greeting. “I understand you’ve
betrayed the Empire.”
Jjana blinked. Mselt groaned and pulled Lotekh aside. “What are you
doing?” he demanded.
“Careful who you’re grabbing,” Lotekh said, pulling away. “I outrank
you.”
“I’m in charge of the mission,” Mselt retorted.
“On the contrary, I have the honorary rank of Captain-Commander,
whereas you are merely a Captain-General. Hence, I am in charge.”
“Whatever,” Mselt said, giving up. “I’ll be in the ship.” He walked
back into to the transport and sat down.
Lotekh turned back to Jjana, who was looking rather concerned. “Well?”
he asked. “How do you explain your relationship with the known rebel
Princess Elim of the House Ri’Tala?”
“I was trying to get information about the rebels,” Jjana replied. “I
have no intention of betraying the Empire.”
“That’s not what Captain-General Tvanir said,” Lotekh countered. “She
said— say, where is she?”
“‘Where is she?’“
“If you do that again,” Lotekh snarled, “I will kill you.”
Jjana sighed. “I don’t know, she and Prince Boltar vanished recently.
We suspect the rebels.”
“Isn’t that convenient,” Lotekh sneered. “You associate with the rebels
and suddenly your accuser disappears.”
“I didn’t know she accused me!” Jjana protested. “And I’m not
associating with rebels. I only pretended to like Princess Elim so I could
spy on them.”
“You what?” Princess Elim yelled, storming onto the landing platform.
“But Princess,” Jjana said, sounding flustered, “you knew it was an
act.”
“You said you were trying to stop Tvanir from seducing you.”
“That’s also true. Besides, weren’t you trying to use me for
information for the rebellion?”
“Well … yes,” Elim admitted. “But it didn’t work out so well since
they all assumed I betrayed them.”
Jjana snapped his fingers. “So that’s why I couldn’t get any
information out of you.”
“A clever plot,” Lotekh said. “But you won’t confuse me with your
convoluted lies! Taste the cold steel of Lotekh!” So saying, he drew his
ceremonial sword and stabbed Jjana in the side.
“Gaah!” Jjana said, giving the traditional response to being stabbed.
He fell to his knees. “You idiot,” he said, clutching his side, “you can’t
kill anyone with that blow, but you let your blade get so rusty, it’ll …
poison me.” With that, Jjana collapsed.
“Eeek!” Elim said, giving the traditional response to seeing someone
just get stabbed ineffectually and then die from rust poisoning. “You
killed him!”
“Yes! I did!” Lotekh cried. “I’m the god! I’m the god!”
“You bastard!” Elim continued, following the insult with a punch to the
jaw. Lotekh collapsed on top of Jjana. “For the representative of a
conquering army, he was a pretty nice guy,” she said, obviously referring to
Jjana, as few people would consider Lotekh a “nice guy”. She followed this
statement by collapsing herself—not because it looked like fun (after
all, everyone else was doing it), but because she had been shot with a
sleep-o-stun ray.
The source of that ray, Captain-General Mselt, looked at the three
unconscious and/or dead bodies and sighed. Actually, the ray had come from
Mselt’s gun, but the distinction isn’t too important. “I hope she hurt
him,” he commented to no one in particular.
The Blue Squadron, meanwhile, had changed out of their Vending Machine
Technician uniforms and removed their disguises and had regrouped under a
statue of an enormous penguin to try and plan their next move.
“Why would anyone build a statue of an enormous penguin?” McCurry
wondered.
“We thinks maybe they likes penguin?” Dent suggested.
Dixon sighed. “Dent,” she said, “could you try to talk normally
again?”
“People,” Vasta said, “we’ve got to try and plan our next move. Or do
you want those accursed Zakavians to find us again?”
“Accursed Zakavians?” a new voice asked.
Dixon and McCurry managed to wrestle the gun away from Dent before he
sent their visitor on a tour of the afterlife.
“Who are you?” Vasta asked.
“I am Chancellor Desir Elahte,” the elderly Aroruan told them. “Like
you, I have no love for the Zakavians. I think we may be able to help each
other.”
“Well,” Vasta said, “that sounds—”
“Freeze!” another new voice said.
Elahte and the Blue Squadron (which would be a good name for a band, by
the way) turned and saw a small group of heavily armed Aroruans who had been
hiding behind the giant penguin.
“We,” their leader said, “are the People’s League of Arorua.”
“Aroruan People’s League,” his followers corrected.
“Whatever.”
“Right,” Vasta said. He turned to Dixon, “Give Dent his gun back.”
Dixon turned to Dent. “All right,” she said, “if I give you this, will
you promise to speak the Queen’s English?”
“We don’t have a Queen,” McCurry reminded her.
Dixon sighed. “Will you promise to speak Captain Harrison’s English?”
“Does he have to imitate that British accent?”
“She doesn’t have a British accent. She’s from New Jersey, like the
rest of us.”
“Sorry, I was thinking of George Harrison.”
“Are you through?” the leader of the rebels asked. “We’d like to take
you prisoner now.”
“Go right ahead,” Vasta told him.