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

CHAPTER EIGHT

"I won't go so far as to say he's insane.  I will go so far as to say I
find his behavior peculiar."
                                                       - George McGovern

     Aboard the November, one of his flagships, Jordann the Immensely
Fat sat on his couch in the huge throne room, ate pickles, and fumed. 
When he saw that the pickle barrel was almost empty, he fumed even
harder, with renewed vigor.  He smacked his lips on another pickle,
fumed a little longer, and finally reached a decision.
     "Bhujm!" he bellowed.
     To someone who did not know that Bhujm was the name of Jordann's
most trusted advisor, this would seem very odd.
     Within seconds, Bhujm appeared by Jordann's side.  In his hands he
held an incredibly advanced teleportation and communication device,
which he had obtained from the future at the famed time warp on Fiasco
IV.  It was identical to a banana except for the multicolored lights and
buttons on its side.  The device allowed him to be in constant contact
with Jordann and to be within reach whenever he was needed.
     Bhujm turned to Jordann.  "Yes, m'lord."  Bhujm, a rat-man from the
planet Cella, was about seven feet tall and covered with a thin layer of
fur.  Although he was a humanoid, he had the face of a rat, and a
ratlike tail as well.
     Cellans were not known for their loyalty, but Bhujm sensed a
kindred spirit in Jordann.
     "I want you to call Home Planet and inform them that I will be
making a visit," Jordann ordered.  "I will expect a full banquet to
receive me.  I also want to pick up my nephew Sai-Ko there.  He had
better have been well taken care of.  In addition, I want you to contact
Sorceress Condra and have her meet us there.  Understand?"
     "Yes, m'lord."  After a brief pause Bhujm added, "Will that be all,
m'lord?"
     "No.  Bring me more pickles; my barrel is almost empty."
     "Yes, m'lord."
     "Well, get about it!"
     "Yes, m'lord."  Bhujm vanished.
     Jordann looked around his throne room, which consisted of his
couches, his pickle barrel, and several viewscreens that were hooked
into the ship's computer.  He fumed.
     His day had not been going well at all.  First, he had arisen, only
to discover that it was Monday.  Then had come the unsettling escape of
the Freeship Infinity.  And finally, to top it all off, his invincible
fleet had just been vinced -- and by a nerd ship, no less.
     "Gruell!" he said, and his engineer appeared on one of the screens.
     Gruell was a short creature, a result of a biogenetic accident. 
His fur was many different colors, ranging from hot pink to black. 
Bionic fingers replaced the ones that had fallen off in his childhood,
and they were capable of storing an impressive charge of static
electricity and releasing it all in one bolt.  He also was a genius, and
that was what Jordann liked best about him.  Or perhaps it was that
insane gleam in his eyes.
     "Have you identified the nerd ship yet?" asked Jordann.  It was
very frustrating hating a nameless ship, so he had ordered a complete
registration check on it.
     "You bet, pickle-face.  It's listed as the AFS Glorkwinkle."
     Jordann was shocked.  "Oh yeah?  Well, same to you!"
     "No, your immensity.  That really is the name of the ship."
     Jordann fumed.  Now he not only knew the name of the ship, he had
another good reason to despise it.  "What is the damage to our fleet?"
     "Well, your fatness, aside from the three ships that were almost
totally disabled, we only suffered minor damage to engines three and
four and have lost our force field for the time being.  If your gracious
blubberbutt would be so kind as to let me get back to work, I should be
able to have all systems operational aboard this ship within fourteen
hours.  I've called tow ships for the others."  He knew Jordann would
rather have the November repaired instead of simply using a different
month's vessel.
     "Very well.  Carry on, Gruell."
     "Dream on, your majesty of many chins."  Gruell disappeared from
the screen, and Jordann fumed at his engineer's manner of address. 
However, it helped to remember that Gruell was a genius, and so Jordann
had to put up with a little irreverence once in a while.  Or rather, all
the time.
     Jordann's eyelids grew heavy; it had been a long day.  He tapped
into the library tapes, selected a book ("How to Conquer the Galaxy"),
and fell asleep reading it.

                                 * * *

     Jordann awoke.  Pleased to find that his pickle barrel had been
refilled, he reached for a pickle.
     Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Zeek the
zombie.  Zeek had been Jordann's grandfather, when he had been living. 
In his will Zeek had insisted that he be reanimated as a ghost by a
skilled magician.  But Jordann had bribed the magician and had Zeek
turned into a zombie instead.  When Zeek found out, he was furious, but
his family calmed him by pretending they couldn't see him.  Zeek had
quickly realized that being an invisible zombie was almost as good as
being a ghost.
     When Jordann awakened, Zeek was holding a pickle in his hand and
'flying' it through the air.
     "Ooooooooooooo!" he moaned.  "This pickle is flying all by itself! 
Ooooooooooooo!"  He knew the pickle would seem to be flying, since he
was invisible.
     Jordann munched on a pickle thoughtfully.  Normally this sort of
fun wouldn't be tolerated, but Zeek was family, and besides, he could be
amusing at times.  What do you do with a mentally deranged zombie,
anyway?  Zombies were, after all, temporary, lasting only until they
decayed.  That was why Jordann had bribed the magician: ghosts were
eternal, and Jordann doubted he could put up with Zeek for that long.
     He just played along with Zeek this time.
     "BHUJM!" he burped.
     Bhujm appeared, dressed in his bedclothes.  "Yes, m'lord," he
yawned.
     "Do you see what I see?"  Jordann pointed to the zombie with his
pickle and winked at Bhujm.
     "Oooooooooooooo," Zeek wailed.
     "Yes, m'lord," he said in dismay.  He hated constantly having to
play this part.
     "What is causing that pickle to float in the air?" asked Jordann
with mock terror.
     Zeek grinned mischievously and continued more loudly.  "OOOOOOOOO!"
     Jordann and Bhujm screamed.
     "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
     Jordann and Bhujm pretended to faint.
     Zeek stopped and smiled.  He left Jordann's throne room to terrify
others.  He had always wanted to be a ghost, but being an invisible
zombie was almost as good.  His grandson was scared enough of him this
way.  He boooooo'd a few crewmembers in passing.  They just looked at
him strangely; in shock, he supposed.

                                 * * *

    Back in Jordann's throne room, he and Bhujm opened their eyes. 
"Will that be all, m'lord?"
    "No.  Did you get the message through to Home Planet?"
    "Yes, m'lord.  Your Underlord Mayor Meyor reported that they have
taken good care of your nephew.  He said that he lost only one hundred
thirty-seven servants feeding him, and two hundred twelve maids cleaning
his cage.  We are still trying to contact Condra."
    "How often?"
    "Every hour, m'lord."
    "Well, call her every half hour!  Don't you understand the
situation?  We've never been defeated before!  That nerd ship must have
had some kind of secret weapon, and I want a couple of my own when we
meet them again!"
    "Yes, m'lord."  Bhujm disappeared.
    Jordann lounged and ate a few pickles speculatively.  "Gruell, I
want a status report."
    "The status, your ever-lumpiness, is stable.  All damage has been
repaired.  Will that be all, my prestigious balloon britches?"
    "No!  Why does everyone ask me that?  There is another thing that I
want you to work on.  Our ship was outmaneuvered in that last battle
when it shouldn't have been.  And by a nerd ship!  That is the highest
disgrace, do you understand what I'm saying?"
    "Well, lardo, I do.  It seems you want me to develop something to
make us maneuver better than the nerds, right?"
    "Precisely."
    "My favorite fatface, I'll do you one better.  I've had plans drawn
up for a long time now for a special project I call the Afterburner. 
This could extend the abilities of our ship enough for us to fly rings
around their ship, backwards."
    "Why haven't you mentioned this before?" demanded Jordann.
    "I was waiting for the right time.  Seems to me that now could be
the right time."  Jordann supposed that he would have to put up with
Gruell a little longer, because he was the best.
    "Hmm... I see.  Well, this project sounds very, uh, interesting. 
When will you be able to begin?"
    "Consider it already done," said Gruell, as he faded from the
viewscreen.
    Jordann reached for another pickle.  He still fumed, but it was a
satisfied kind of fuming.
