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

CHAPTER NINE

"With all its wonders, science has found no medicine that cures
stupidity."
                                                   - Leonard L. Levinson

     Melvin said that the correct procedure for a conference was for the
Captain to meet with his officers in the conference room.  Since all his
officers were missing at that moment, we would have to fill in, but
everything else would have to be done according to standard procedure.
     All of us met around the oval table, except for Rhye, who was
nowhere to be found.  Melvin expressed his sincerest desire that she was
not cleaning anything up.
     "Well, the first order of business is to find out more about this
Jordann character," began Melvin.
     "He's the same commander who attacked our ship earlier today," Zot
commented.  "Other than that, I'm afraid I don't know much about him."
     Melvin nodded.  "Anyone else know anything?"
     Snort sneezed.  "I'be heard of hib.  He's supposedly goig to take
over the galaxy."
     "Now we're getting somewhere," said Melvin.  "So we're up against
one of those evil guys who wants control of the galaxy.  What else?"
     Donald cleared his throat.  "I served in his fleet for a while," he
said.  We all stared at him.  "Don't look at me like that," he said
uncomfortably.  "It seemed like a dangerous place."
     We all relaxed.  It had only been a suicidal tactic.  Eternals
never lied when it came to their Purpose.
     "Well?" asked Melvin excitedly.  "Is he dangerous?"
     Donald shrugged.  "Beats me.  I never met him.  I was assigned to
garbage disposal.  There was a lot of it, too.  Garbage, I mean."
     Melvin looked disappointed.  "Doesn't anyone here know anything
about Jordann besides that he wants to take over the galaxy, that he
attacked Zot's ship, and that he makes a lot of garbage?"
     I had an idea.  "I have an idea," I said.  "Why don't you ask
FILBERT?"
     Melvin just stared at me.  "Why didn't I think of that?"
     "Because," Zot pointed out, "you're a nerd."
     "Oh.  Of course...  FILBERT!" called Melvin.  A four-sided screen,
arranged so that everyone on the table could see the display, rose out
of the conference table.  It lit up with a psychedelic color display,
and a voice said, "What?"
     "How much data do you have available on Jordann the Immensely Fat?"
     "Over thirty thousand megabytes," responded FILBERT.
     Melvin's eyes widened.  "That much?"
     "It's a biiiiiig subject," said FILBERT defensively.
     "Well," I said.  "Let's hear it."
     "Are you crazy?" asked Melvin.  "At normal speech speed, it would
take over ten years to hear all of it!  Condense it, please."
     FILBERT sounded disappointed.  "Are you sure?  There's a lot to be
said for the unabridged version.  It's more aesthetically pleasing, for
one thing.  And--"
     "Just condense it, okay?" Melvin ordered, irritated.
     "Oh, all right.  Activating Reader's Digest Condensation program
now.  'Jordann was born.  He lives.  He will die, probably.'"
     Melvin was getting frustrated.  "A little less condensation,
please?"
     FILBERT clicked a few times, then began speaking in a voice not
unlike that of Rod Serling.
     "Jordann the Immensely Fat was born on Hsirrt II thirty-seven years
ago."  A picture of a large, humanoid being flashed onto the viewscreen.
 Or rather, part of a picture flashed onto the viewscreen, since the
viewscreen wasn't big enough to display the entire hugeness of Jordann.
     "For the first sixteen years of his life, he was constantly
insulted and suffered innumerable injustices for his large size.  The
ultimate insult came when he was turned down by the Hsirrtian army for
that same reason.  He decided to retaliate.
     "He stole a spaceship from the army.  Then, for fifteen years, he
terrorized the galaxy, raiding innocent merchant ships; in other words,
piracy.  Recently, however, he has become bored with that and decided to
conquer the galaxy.
     "Jordann has several associates now who are helping him accomplish
his goal.  This is Bhujm, a rat-man from Cella."  Bhujm appeared on the
screen.  "Rat-men are not notoriously trustworthy, but Jordann has found
an exception; Bhujm is his second in command.  The source of his power
is an advanced teleportation/communication device in the shape of a
banana."
     "Gruell is Jordann's engineer."  The screen now showed Gruell. 
"He's the result of a bioengineering accident, and is a mixture of
hundreds of different lifeforms.  His hands fell off early in life, so
he had them replaced with electronic substitutes.  A side effect of this
is that he can now store a charge of electricity and release it all at
once through his fingers in a deadly bolt.  He's ugly, all right, but
brilliant.
     The image of a man almost as big as Chester filled the screen. 
"This is Jordann's nephew, Sai-Ko.  As you can see, he is covered with
weapons.  Destruction is his specialty.  He shoots first and never asks
questions.  The good news is that he kills everything that moves, and
that would include any member of Jordann's crew.
     "Beware of these people; there are also about fifty Death Troopers
on board Jordann's flagship.  And some servants as well."  The screen
went dark.
     There was silence for a while, as we absorbed what FILBERT had
said.  This Jordann fellow certainly sounded like a mean dude.
     "Oh, well, this has been very informative," yawned Melvin, "but I'm
tired and I think we should all get some sleep.  I can give everyone
quarters, OK?"
     I suddenly noticed that after all the action, I was indeed very
tired.  Sleep sounded like a great idea.  The rest of Melvin's "crew"
looked as if they could use a good rest too (excepting Zordoff and
Donald, of course, who never slept).
     I slept like a corporate executive.

                                 * * *

     Melvin decided to take a shower before retiring for the night.  He
emerged from the sonic shower, wrapped in a bathrobe, and was heading
for his cabin when he was intercepted by Chester.
     "INTRUDER!" Chester bellowed, like an enraged elephant.
     "Not again!" cried Melvin, gathering his robe securely around him. 
This, he thought, was turning into a very bad habit for Chester.
     Melvin ran, but unfortunately he was watching Chester and not
watching where he was going.  He ran smack into a wall and yelped in
pain.  "Yeeeeeooooow!"
     The collision did not favorably alter his appearance.  His bathrobe
was suddenly rearranged, exposing his gaudy red-and-white polka-dotted
underwear.  He slumped to the floor and sat there greeting the rising
bump on his head while Chester rumbled closer.
     "INTRUDER!" he bellowed again.
     Melvin collected his senses, almost dropping one but managing to
grab it before it hit the floor.  He leaped to his feet.  Then he
rounded the corner, Chester in hot pursuit.
     His feet did flip-flops over his head as he slid down the soapy
corridor.
     This was not the normal conditon of the Glorkwinkle's corridors,
and Melvin was taken completely by surprise.  He screamed in rage as he
saw Rhye busily mopping the floor.
     Melvin slid right into the bucket of soapy water, which, by a
strange and totally meaningless conincidence, was painted red, the same
color as his bathrobe, and the same color as the dots on his underwear. 
(It was Melvin's favorite color.)  The wooden bucket ended up on his
head.
     Now Melvin heard Chester's roar but couldn't see him, which was
just as well.  "INTRUDERRR!"  Then Chester smacked into Melvin with
enough force to convert the sturdy bucket into splinters which lodged
themselves in Melvin's face.
     Anger made him ignore the raging pain of the splinters, and he
looked into Chester's eyes, smiled, and gathered his anger for one
focused shout.
     "RHYE, I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU NEVER EVER TO CLEAN IN HERE!"
     This took Chester completely by surprise, since his name was
Chester, not Rhye.  And he wasn't cleaning.  It bothered him that Melvin
as yelling at him for something he hadn't done, and was using the wrong
name, at that.  He stared at Melvin.
     Melvin stared back at Chester's puzzled frown.  "Chester, go to
your room!"
     Chester looked even more puzzled.  He didn't have a room, at least
not one he could remember.
     "All that I wanted to do was take a shower!" screamed Melvin, his
bathrobe flapping open and shut as he waved his arms wildly.  "Can't a
guy take a shower on his own ship without being chased by a giant into a
soapy disaster area that SHOULDN'T HAVE BEEN HERE IN THE FIRST PLACE?!"
     "Melvin..." Rhye began.  The sight of Melvin's face (which looked
fuzzy because of all the splinters) was making her sick.
     "I don't want to hear it!!"
     "...I'm sorry..." Rhye finished.  She had a dazed look on her face,
 as if emerging from a dream.
     "SORRY?!" Melvin exclaimed incredulously as he stood up, slipped,
and abruptly sat back down again.  "Chester, help me!"
     "Sure," said Chester, giving Melvin a swat on the back that sent
him sliding down the corridor.
     "Gee, that looks like fun," remarked Chester.  He launched himself
headfirst into the suds.  Far down the corridor, he collided with
Melvin.
     "AAAAAAAAGGHHHH!!!" Melvin screamed in wrath.
     Rhye winced.  Then, shrugging in resignation, she put down her mop
and moved to help him.
