STARSHIP OF FOOLS - (C) 1986 Jerry Kindall and Rex Crossley

CHAPTER THREE

"The most incomprehensible thing about the universe is that it is
incomprehensible."
                                                       - Albert Einstein

     I was awestruck as Melvin led me through the corridors of the
starship.  There were advanced technological gadgets on all the walls. 
I pointed to one that resembled a hand dryer (the kind you find in
restrooms in restaurants) and asked Melvin what it was.
     "A hand dryer," he responded.
     I was much more alert now that my stomach was full.  And the
cucumbers did seem to be helping my nose some.
     "Why do the lights turn on as we walk along?" I asked Melvin. 
"When I first came to, I was in the dark."
     He looked thoughtful.  "Hmm...  that's odd.  The starship's
olfactory sensors determine the presence of life forms in certain areas,
and activate lights and open doors and that sort of thing."
     "Olfactory?"
     "Smell," agreed Melvin.  "I guess you don't smell like a nerd to
the ship's computer."
     "The ship's computer?" I asked, interested.  "Does it talk?"
     "Oh yes," said Melvin.  "Sometimes too much.  Its name, by the way,
is FILBERT."
     "That's a strange name," I remarked.
     "It's an acronym," explained Melvin.  "Fearless Integrated Literal
Beer-Enjoying Remote Terminal.  Anyway, you don't smell like a nerd to
it, so it ignores you."
     I understood then.  I didn't smell like Melvin.  Thank God.
     "I'd adjust it for you," Melvin continued, "but I'm afraid I don't
know how."
     "You mean," I countered, staring at him levelly, "whenever I want
to go somewhere, I'll have to take a flashlight?"
     "Oh no, we don't have any flashlights.  We don't need them."
     "Then how do you propose I get around on this ship?" I asked.  "I
can't go anyplace if I can't see where I'm going."
     Melvin's brow furrowed in concentration.  "I guess I'll have to go
along with you wherever you go."
     "Even to the restroom?"
     Melvin flushed.  "I'll think of something."
     "You'd better."
     We trudged along in silence.  "So, anyway," I said, "what's the
name of this ship?"
     "The Arcturan Federation Starship Glorkwinkle," he told me.
     "What does Glorkwinkle mean?"
      "I'm not sure, exactly," he responded.  "I think it's some sort of
an interplanetary greeting.  It means 'peace' or 'goodwill' or something
like that."
     "Oh," I said, disappointed.  "Where are we headed, anyway?"
     "The bridge," said Melvin decisively, walking along briskly.  I
followed, not really having much choice.
     We came to a door, which opened for us.  I followed Melvin into an
elevator.  After a few seconds of brisk upward movement, the doors slid
open once again.
     We stepped onto the bridge.
     I gaped at the bridge of the starship, a huge, vaulted hemisphere.
The front part of the hemisphere was totally transparent: the viewport,
Melvin told me.  Near the center of the bridge sat a comfortable-looking
chair, (the command chair), which provided a vantage point for observing
the control stations.  The control stations were arranged in a neat
semicircle before the central chair, with chairs of their own.  One
large console was labeled "FILBERT" in futuristic letters.  There were
also two cabinets that I couldn't identify, one on the left and one on
the right of the command chair.  And there were two stereo speakers
hanging from the ceiling.
     "Howdy, folks," said FILBERT.  Its voice sounded almost totally
human, except for a slight metallic overtone.  "Guess this must be Matt,
huh, Melvin?"
     "Yes, FILBERT," Melvin answered.
     The top of FILBERT exploded with an array of sensors and pickups. 
A hum sounded and I realized that I was being scanned.  This was
exciting!  I had certainly never been scanned before.  Just as suddenly,
all the instruments disappeared back into FILBERT and the hum stopped.
     "Gee, Melvin, I guess you were right.  He really is an Earthling."
     I bristled, which was hard considering that I don't have any
bristles.  "Of course I am."
     "I had a lot of problems locking onto your lifeform reading when I
teleported you up," Melvin told me.  "It was hard enough finding you,
but then I saw that you were being attacked by two of the more primitive
natives, and it became even harder to teleport you up without getting
them, too."
     "What are you talking about, Melvin?" chided FILBERT.  "I'm the one
who had problems locking onto his lifeform reading.  You had nothing to
do with it."
     Melvin shrugged and seemed to be at a loss for words.
     "This sure is a big place," I said finally, to break the silence. 
"Shouldn't there be someone else here?"  What Melvin said next made me
more than a little nervous.
     "Yes," he admitted, "there should be."  He strode over to the
command chair and sat down in it.  It slowly rose two feet so that he
could see over the vacant control stations.  "In fact, I'm sort of
worried about that.  We were at Alpha Beta Gamma Delta Epsilon Pi Omega
Four, and when I teleported up early from a conference they were gone." 
He swiveled the chair to face me.  There should be about eighty
crewmembers on board --"
     "How many ARE there on board?"
     "Counting you and me?" he asked.
     "Yes."
     He slumped a bit.  "Two."
     "TWO?!" I exclaimed, incredulous.
     "Well, three, if you count FILBERT."
     I stared at him in disbelief.  Somehow, the nerd had managed to
misplace the entire crew of his starship!
     He noticed me staring at him.  "Well, what was I supposed to do?"
he asked indignantly.  "I couldn't find the regulation book, so I didn't
know what I should do in that situation, so I just proceeded to the next
part of the assignment, which was a scout mission on Earth."
     "But don't you need a navigator and stuff like that?"
     "Oh, no.  It's all pre-programmed into FILBERT."
     "Actually," interrupted FILBERT, "it's not anymore.  While you were
down on Earth, a freak ion storm erased my navigation circuits."
     Melvin's eyes grew wide and I became very nervous.  He slid down a
little in the command chair.  "But I already put the ship on automatic
pilot and locked the course!"
     "What does that mean?"
     "The ion storm freaked out FILBERT's memory.  The course that our
navigator had programmed in has been erased.  Our course has been
randomized.  There's no way to know where we're going."
     FILBERT piped up, "I know where we're going.  We're going to Efi
Laat Alpha."
     "Oh, well," said Melvin, his face brightening momentarily, "once we
get there, we can probably find someone to program a new course for us."
     "Not really," responded FILBERT.  "We're not on course for a
planetary orbit.  We're on a collision course for the star."
     Melvin slumped further down in his chair.  I thought that he was
going to fall out.
     "Do something!" I screamed as I realized that crashing into a star
meant bad news.  "We're going to die!"
     Now Melvin did fall out of the command chair.  "I can't."
     "Why not?" I demanded.
     "We're locked on course.  That means we can't reprogram the course
until we reach our destination, unless I enter my Captain's priority
deactivation code into the navigation console."
     "Well, do it!" I screamed.  "We're going to die!"
     "I can't."
     "Why not?"
     "I forgot my Captain's priority deactivation code."
     There was silence on the bridge for a moment.  Then FILBERT
activated his music synthesizer and played "Taps."
     "Can't you do anything?" I demanded of FILBERT.
     "Well, I could reprogram the course myself," FILBERT began, and my
spirits rose, "...if Melvin entered the deactivation code."
     My spirits fell back down.  "So what are we going to do?" I asked.
     "Beats me," responded Melvin, shrugging.  "Die, I guess."
     "But we've got to do something!" I cried.  "We can't just sit here
waiting for our deaths!"  I suddenly had an idea.  "Can't we teleport
back to Earth?"
     Melvin's eyes lit up.  "Can we, FILBERT?"
     "Sorry, guys; we're out of range."
     I was really panicking now.  "Do something!"
     Melvin glared at me.  He was probably getting tired of hearing me
say that.  "Like what?"
     I had no suggestions.
     I was saved from my embarrassment by an alarm that chose that
instant to begin sounding.  I collected my wits, even though I seemed to
be dropping them faster than I could pick them up.  "What's that?" I
gasped.
     "Intruder alert," Melvin told me, struggling to his feet.  He
looked around alertly.
     "What does that mean?"
     "It means that we should be alert," he explained, still looking
around alertly, "because there are intruders on board."
     I frowned.  "How did they get here?"
     "They teleported," said Melvin, still alert.
     "So where are they?"
     Melvin studied the scanner and drew a deep breath.  "There," he
said wearily, pointing back toward the elevator, right behind us.
     I looked, and my knees, for the first time ever, acted without
direct orders from my stomach.  They crumpled beneath my unconscious
body.  I passed out.
