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

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

"Confusion is mightier than the sword."
                                                       - Abbie Hoffman

     Jordann the Immensely Fat was fuming.  "WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU LOST
THE MAPS?" he screamed at the viewscreen.
     "M-M-My lord, the star maps were on board when we docked at Home
Planet.  I'm sure..."
     "I'M SURE, Lieutenant, no, make that CORPORAL Stemplebladder, that
you are about to see a side of me that people rarely see!  I mean, I'm
usually a nice guy, but you wouldn't like me when I'm angry!"
     "But there must be..."  Stemplebladder tried again.
     "THERE MUST BE no excuses!" Jordann thundered.  "The maps were in
your care!  You are responsible for their loss.  Search for them again! 
How do you expect us to plot a course for Oorlon without the star maps?"
     "Yes, my lord.  You won't regret this, my lord.  Thank you, my
lord," blubbered Stemplebladder.
     "One more thing, Stemplebladder!"
     "Yes, my lord?" gulped Stemplebladder.
     "GODD DAY!" roared Jordann.
     "Yes, my lord."  The screen went blank as an expression of complete
and utter puzzlement struggled against a look of dumbfounded amazement
for control of Stemplebladder's face.
     Jordann was pleased.  It was the first time he had tried out his
new policy of wishing his soldiers a good day.  He had read somewhere
that it was good for morale.
     An expression of utter pleasure and contentment failed to overtake
Jordann's face.  The star maps were missing.  There was no way to plot a
course for Oorlon without them.  Jordann fumed some more and grabbed a
pickle from his barrel.  He picked up the latest issue of his favorite
magazine, Pickle Digest, and thumbed through it absently, soon tiring of
this.
     "Bhujm!"
     Bhujm appeared by his side.
     "Good day," said Jordann, managing what (for him) would pass for a
smile, and sticking a finger in his ear for no apparent reason.
     "Good day, m'lord?" asked Bhujm, puzzled.
     "Yeah.  Isn't it, though?" Jordann stuck two of the fingers of his
other hand into his mouth.  The fingers just happened to be holding a
pickle.
     "Do you know about the maps, m'lord?"
     "Yeah," said Jordann.  "Do you have any ideas about that, Bhujm?"
     "Only that Condra is slightly upset with the way you are handling
this entire operation, m'lord."
     Jordann sighed.  Condra's being slightly upset could cause him to
become slightly decimated.  He just hoped that he'd find a way to pass
the blame off onto Stemplebladder instead of having to face Condra's
wrath himself.
     "Anything else?" he asked.
     "No, m'lord."
     "Dismissed," said Jordann as he kicked a passing servant in the
face.

                                 * * *

     Zeek wandered into Jordann's throne room, sat in a corner and
started playing with a deck of cards that he produced from his pocket. 
Jordann ignored him; he had other things on his mind.
     "Gruell!" Jordann gruelled.  Gruell appeared on the monitor.
     "Good day," said Jordann.  Gruell burped.  "The scanners are in
place, I presume?" asked Jordann.  He reached out and grabbed a servant
by the hair and pulled.
     "YEEEEEAAAAARRGH!" screamed the servant in pleasure.
     "Yes, jelly bottom.  Everything is now operational and everyone is
ready.  So when will we leave for Oorlon?"
     "As soon as we find the star maps," said Jordann.  "Have I wished
you a good day yet?"
     "Yes."
     "Oh.  That's all I have to say, then."  He turned off the screen
and pulled on the servant's hair.
     "YEEEEEAAAAARRGH!"
     "OoooOOOooooOOO!  The cards are flying by themselves!"  A card
slapped Jordann rudely and he glanced over to where Zeek was sitting,
then faked a double-take.  Zeek had gathered up the cards and was
flinging them around the room.  "OOOOoooOooooOOOooo!"
     "AAAAHHH!  The cards are flying by themselves!" Jordann screamed,
and pretended to pass out.  The rest of the deck of cards landed on his
face.
     FLAP.
     "Works every time," said Zeek, with a sense of fulfillment.  As he
left, he made sure to boooo all the servants, who acted suitably
terrified, if a little confused.  Anything that would frighten Jordann,
they reasoned, was terrifying indeed.
     Jordann opened his eyes and pulled hard.  His hand was still
wrapped around the servant's hair.
     "YEEEEEAAAAARRGH!"

                                 * * *

     Jordann's viewscreen beeped ten minutes later, interrupting his
reading session.  He had become deeply engrossed in an article entitled
"The Pickle As An Instrument Of Torture."  This had better be good, he
thought, as he activated the viewscreen.
     Stemplebladder's smile filled the screen.
     "Good news, my lord," he beamed.
     "You found the maps?" Jordann asked, beginning to wax his toenails
with toenail wax.
     "No, but what we did find was just as good."
     "Which was?"
     "A scrap of paper with Oorlon's coordinates written on it."
     This threw Jordann, which meant that it was a pretty strong concept
if it could throw something that heavy.  "Where would we get a scrap of
paper with Oorlon's coordinates written on it?"  As Jordann asked the
question, he realized that Condra probably had something to do with the
disappearance of the star maps.
     "Beats me," admitted Stemplebladder.  "But there's something else
you should know.  We've picked up a fuel trace from the Glorkwinkle."
     "How do you know that it's the Glorkwinkle?" demanded Jordann,
emphasizing the question by kicking a servant (and as a consequence,
dulling the shine on his toenails).  He scowled.
     "Because that ship and this ship, uh, er, we don't."  he finished,
his smile fading.
     His image was interrupted by Gruell's.  "Can it, wimpweed.  You
don't know what you're talking about."  Corporal Stemplebladder's image
faded entirely.
     "Good day!" called Jordann to the fading Corporal.  "Yes, Gruell,
what do you have to add?" he asked his engineer, as he experimented with
eating seven pickles at a time.
     CRUNCH.
     "Well, wax-breath, our new scanners can identify the residue.  Our
old ones wouldn't have even detected it.  The residue is unique to nerds
and was present during the battle in larger quantities.  It's the same
kind we're picking up now."
     "And where does it lead?" asked Jordann.
     "If the coordinates on this scrap of paper are correct, the fuel
trail leads to Oorlon.  It may be that we can pay Condra's price and
wreak our revenge in one easy step.  May I suggest, your hugeness, that
this might be an ideal time to test the Afterburner?"
     "Yes, yes," said Jordann eagerly.
     "Hi, Zeek," said Gruell as he disappeared from the viewscreen.
     A look of shocked surprise crossed Zeek's face.  His expression
went blank, and he fainted.
     Jordann smiled, satisfied.  He would take Condra to Oorlon, then it
would be on to the nerds.  Who, it would seem, were also on their way to
Oorlon.  He could not imagine their motives.
     "We have them now," he whispered, to no one in particular.
     "Yes, we sure do," responded no one in particular.
     The artificial gravity flickered for a moment as the Afterburner
cut in and space curved gracefully around them.  Jordann leaned back,
contented.  Soon he would have his revenge.
