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

CHAPTER ELEVEN

"If two wrongs don't make a right, try three."
                                                       - Laurence Peter

     "Is this going to hurt?" asked Melvin fearfully, lying on the table
in the medical clinic, his face fuzzy with the splinters that had once
been Rhye's bucket.  There was usually a registered medic on duty, but
since Melvin's crew was absent, Rhye would have to do the honors.  After
all, she was partly responsible for the accident.
     For a moment, Rhye debated whether or not to lie to Melvin, but she
decided against it.  No matter what she told him, he'd find out that it
did hurt.  "Yes, it probably will," she told him.
     "Wait a minute, then," he said, and sat up.  He produced a bottle
of something foul-smelling and alcoholic, took several deep swallows
from it, and wiped it off, exhaling heavily.  "I'm ready," he said,
putting the bottle back into his pocket and lying back down.
     Rhye lifted her tweezers uncertainly and went to work.  Melvin,
gathering all his energy, screamed courageously and passed out.

                                 * * *

     I awoke to the sound of muffled screaming.  After a moment it
stopped and I decided it was probably just my imagination.  I got up,
used the sonic shower, and got dressed.  The laundry machine had
cleaned, pressed, and folded my clothes while I slept.
     I left my quarters and made my way to the bridge.  Melvin and Zot
had given me a guided tour, and I was beginning to get used to the
layout of the ship.
     When I arrived on the bridge, I found Donald and Zordoff were 
engaged in another furious Pac-Man battle.  Donald was winning, but it
was Zordoff's turn, and he proceeded to beat Donald's score.  The game
drew to a close, and when the final scores were displayed, Zordoff had
defeated Donald by ten thousand points.  Donald shrugged indifferently
and challenged me to a game.
     I accepted the challenge, and the game began.  Donald had been
practicing; his strategy had improved.  But mine was just as good.  The
game, unbelievably, ended in a tie, and the game went into a special
bonus mode.  We simultaneously controlled Pac-Men on the same board,
competing for points.
     Just then, the elevator doors slid open and Melvin stepped out,
Rhye following close behind.  Melvin's face was covered with bandages.
     "Melvin!" I cried.  "What happened to your face?"
     Melvin gave me a stare that could have split rocks.  He had been
hoping no one would notice his bandages.  "They're a fashion statement,"
he growled.  Donald took advantage of my distraction to guide his
Pac-Man toward mine, which I had guided into a corner for the moment.
     Melvin looked around, challenging us all to say something.
     Donald chuckled evilly as his Pac-Man took a bite out of mine.  His
score increased by a thousand points, and mine decreased by the same
amount.  I was watching Melvin, so I didn't notice.
     "Chester was chasing me," Melvin said coldly.  His voice rose to a
frenzied shout.  "Did everyone HEAR that?  Chester BEAT ME UP and I
couldn't even defend myself!  All I did was RUN!  All right, so I'm a
WIMP!  Who cares?!"  He started sobbing.  "Ohhh... I am so embarrassed!"
     He was also drunk again.

                                 * * *

     We finally managed to calm Melvin down by telling him that he
actually looked very good in bandages.  His mood quickly improved.  His
shouting had awakened Chester, Snort, and Zot and drawn them to the
bridge.  Melvin tried to keep away from Chester without being obvious
about it.  Chester noticed it right away and was hurt.
     "Whatcha got bandages on yer face fer?" he asked innocently.
     That did it.  Melvin exploded.  "WHY DO I HAVE BANDAGES ON MY
FACE?!" he screamed incredulously.  "Why, you low-level sub-moron, I'll,
I'll, I'll, uh --"
     Rhye stepped in quickly.  So did Donald; it looked like there could
be a fight, and he wanted to see if he could get socked a couple of
times.
     "Melvin, calm down," said Rhye firmly.  Melvin stared at her
goggle-eyed, not believing what he was hearing.  He did shut his mouth
and stand still.  Rhye then turned to Chester, who was looking more
confused and hurt by the minute.
     "Chester," Rhye said patiently, "last night Melvin had a very
unfortunate accident.  A bucket splintered into his face.  That's why
he's wearing bandages."  I noticed that she left out the part about him
chasing Melvin.  That was wise; it wasn't a good idea to get Chester
upset.  "Do you understand?"
     Chester nodded.
     "He'll probably be like this for a while," continued Rhye, still in
that patient voice, "so it might be best if you left him alone for a
while.  Got that?"
     Chester nodded.
     Now Rhye turned her attention to Melvin, who was looking ashamed of
himself.  "Now, Melvin," she said angrily, "it's not Chester's fault if
he can't remember things very well.  Just pretend it never happened. 
Stay away from him until you cool down."
     Melvin nodded.
     Then a thought suddenly occurred to him.  His face turned bright
red (it was visible even through the bandages).  "Now wait a minute!" he
said indignantly.  "Whose ship is this, anyway?  You just teleported in
here, and since I'm a nice guy I let you stay.  But do you know what the
Arcuturan penalty for trespassing is?  I don't remember it myself, but I
know it's pretty terrible.  And whatever it is, I could do it right
now!"
     Rhye nodded.
     "You're right," she said.  "I did sort of pop in unexpectedly.  Get
out of the way; Melvin and I are trying to talk."  This last remark was
directed at Donald, who still hoped for a fight.
     "And what about Chester?" Melvin demanded.
     "Yes, him too," she admitted.  "If you'd like, you can drop us off
at the next civilized world."
     "No, that won't be necessary," he said, in a much softer tone of
voice.  "You're welcome here.  I'm sorry.  I guess maybe I've had too
much to drink."
     Rhye nodded emphatically.
     "I'll try to be a little nicer," she said.  "That disaster last
night was as much my fault as Chester's."
     "All right," said Melvin.
     Donald shook his head sadly.  There would be no fight, after all.

                                 * * *

     To show her good intentions, Rhye fixed a hearty breakfast for all
the beings capable of eating.  Of course, this only involved pressing a
few buttons on the food synthesizer, but it's the thought that counts.
     The ship's huge mess hall looked strangely empty with only seven
people eating there.  Since Zordoff couldn't eat, he stayed on the
bridge.
     As Melvin, Rhye, Donald, Snort, Chester, Zot, and I chowed down,
the breakfast conversation turned to Jordann the Immensely Fat.  I
almost lost my appetite when the subject came up, but my stomach would
not be put off so easily.
     "So what are we goig to do about hib?" Snort asked, sniffling.
     "Hope he doesn't bother us again," replied Melvin through his
bandages.
     "No," put in Donald.  "We've disgraced him.  He'll come looking for
us.  We've got to be ready."
     "Ready?" I asked.  "How can we be any more ready?"  We'd already
defeated Jordann once, thanks to Zordoff's navigational skills.
     Donald replied, "I served under this guy, remember?  He'll figure
out whatever went wrong and fix it.  He'll have no weaknesses next time.
 He'll be even tougher."
     "How would you know?" Melvin asked.  "You were only on garbage
patrol."
     "Yeah," responded Donald, "but he never had any weak garbage!"
     "We must have surprised hib," said Snort.  "He probably wasd't
expectig ad Arcturad ship to fight back the way we did.  There's doe way
we cad surprise hib dow."
     "Okay," said Melvin, swallowing.  "So we can't ignore him.  But we
can run.  The galaxy is a big place."
     "I am not crazy about hiding for the rest of my life," remarked
Donald.  That was an understandable sentiment for an Eternal.
     "We could ditch this ship, and get another one.  He'd never find
out who we are," Melvin argued.
     "If he can't find us, he might destroy the entire Arcturan star
system in revenge," said Donald.  "He did that to Graggular when some
Graggularian pirates wouldn't pay tribute."
     That remark literally hit home for Melvin.  "All right," he finally
admitted, a resigned look on his face.  "We have to fight him.  How can
we beat him again?"
     "Uhhh..." said Chester.
     We all stared at him.
     "Uhhh..." said Chester.  He hoped he could verbalize his idea
before it slipped from his mind.  "Uhh, there's this planet...
Oorlon..."
     "Of course!" cried Rhye, with sudden realization.  She knew what he
was trying to say.  It was such a good idea that she wished she had
thought of it herself.
     We all stared at her.
     "Oorlon," she explained.  "The Oracle of Oorlon is the wisest man
alive, the most powerful magician in the galaxy, and the keeper of the
Orb.  He'll be able to help us."
     "Great," said Melvin.
     I stared at Melvin.  "Melvin, do you realize what we just did?"
     "No.  What?"
     "We just had a conference."
     "So?" he asked.
     "We aren't in the conference room!" I reminded him.
     Melvin grew pale.  "Oh, no!"
     "Don't worry, Melvin," put in Rhye, "we won't tell anyone."
     Melvin was visibly relieved. "Thanks."
