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

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

"If you're looking for messages, try Western Union."
                                                  - Ernest Hemingway

     Any landmarks on the misty surface of Oorlon were hidden by the
all-encompassing fog.  In panic, I looked around and found that Melvin
and the others were hidden in the fog as well.
     I screamed.  "MELVIN! WHERE ARE YOU?"
     Melvin called back.  "Right beside you.  What are you, blind?"
     A hand touched my shoulder and I jumped.  "Aaiiigh!"
     "Settle down, it's only me," said Melvin's voice.  He, too, was
speaking loudly, because there was a wind blowing.
     Melvin's hand moved from my shoulder to my helmet.  The wind
whistled "Dust In The Wind."  Somewhere in the distance, an accoustic
guitar joined in.
     Melvin's hand reached my faceplate, and he waved it back and forth.
     I waved back at him.
     When he removed his hand, the mist was gone.  Then I suddenly
realized that there had been no mist.  My visor had simply been fogged
up and Melvin had just wiped it off.
     I saw Oorlon, and it was a waste.
     The wind was blowing hard enough to toss small objects around.  I
recognized some of them: empty beer cans, candy bar wrappers, and those
round cardboard things toilet paper is wrapped around.
     We must have missed the correct coordinates and materialized in
Oorlon's junkyard.  There were piles of garbage stacked on both sides of
us.  The smell would have overwhelmed us if we weren't wearing our
suits.
     There was no sign of the Oracle.  There didn't even seem to be room
for him to live in this wasteland.  I began to get a little depressed by
the surroundings and wished that my visor would fog up again.
     "Look at all these sharp objects lying around!"  exclaimed Donald
gleefully, starting to rummage around in one of the piles.  "I bet I can
catch tetanus!"
     Zot snatched a passing beer can out of the wind and stared at it,
deep in thought.
     Melvin and I just looked around.
     The wind finished "Dust In The Wind" and started whistling "Blowin'
In The Wind."
     Soon three figures came into view from behind a junk pile.  Two
huge burly men flanked a smaller robed one.  The burly men were about
six and a half feet tall, as strong as Chester, covered with muscle and
lacking necks.  Their eyes held not one glimmer of intelligence.
     The robed man had a bright, cheerful face.  He was very old, a fact
which I deduced mainly from his gray hair, his long white beard, and the
thousands of wrinkles on his face.  It could only be the Oracle.
     As soon as Donald caught sight of the two burly men he yelled
"Jackpot!" and ran toward them at top speed.
     Zot dropped the beer can and and turned his attention to them,
extending his hand in friendship, while Melvin and I stared at the robed
man in amazement.  We had never seen an Oracle before!
     When the Oracle reached us, he smiled and said, "Hi, I'm the Oracle
of Oorlon."  Melvin and I shivered with excitement.  An Oracle had never
spoken to us before!
     The Oracle tried to shake Zot's outstretched hand, which was
difficult because of Zot's peculiar thumb arrangement.  After a couple
of minutes he gave up, smiling.
     "How did all this trash get here?" I asked boldly.
     "I forgot to pay the trash collector's bill a couple of years ago."
 The Oracle smiled.
     "From my observations, I estimate that it was twenty-four years,
five months, twelve days, six hours, nineteen minutes and forty-five
seconds ago," corrected Zot as he winked his center eye at me. 
"Approximately," he added.
     I tried to wink back at Zot in the same way, but my brain got all
confused, since I didn't have a center eye.  I just ended up going
crosseyed.
     Donald continued running into one of the burly men.  The burly man
didn't even notice.
     Donald, when he became aware of this, began making faces at him.
     "We have a woman on board who could help you clean this mess up,"
Melvin added cheerfully.  He smiled a nerdy smile and attempted to push
his glasses up on his nose, a very difficult task when wearing a helmet.
     "Why have you sought me out?" asked the Oracle.  He smiled.
     "We, uh..." started Melvin.  Then he changed his mind and asked
something different.  "...say, why are we wearing spacesuits while you
guys aren't?"
     "We have grown accustomed to the atmosphere.  Others who have come
to visit us were nauseated to death.  It was quite sickening."  He
smiled.  "I hope that I have answered your questions well enough.  I'm a
bit rusty; people don't come around as often as they used to, you know."
 He smiled again.
     "Uh..." began Melvin again.  "That wasn't exactly what we came here
for..."
     "Oh?" the Oracle smiled.
     "No, we, uh came for help.  Jordann the Immensely Fat is trying to
take over the galaxy, and he's after us.  We need your help."
     "Oh," said the Oracle.  "That sounds more serious."
     Melvin smiled feebly in agreement.
     The Oracle smiled again.  "I must touch your hands first."
     Donald's suit was battered from running into the bodyguards. He
walked over to the Oracle and held out his hands.  "Is this gonna hurt?"
he asked.
     "That depends," the Oracle smiled.
     He took off Donald's glove and touched his palm.  Donald screamed
in ecstasy.  He had just enough time to notice the wonderful intensity
of the pain before he fell to the ground.
     "Well," said the smiling Oracle, "he is not the Chosen One.  Who
will be next?"   He smiled more broadly.
     Melvin and Zot took a step backwards.  "Not me!"  They took another
step backwards, and then another, and then tripped and fell into a trash
pile.
     I turned to follow them.
     "Ah, ah, ah, young man, you are next," smiled the Oracle.
     I started to run.
     Suddenly I ran into a brick wall.  It turned out to be one of the
Oracle's bodyguards.  I smiled at him and tried to go around him, but he
didn't smile back.  I was brought before the Oracle.
     "You must understand," he smiled.  "I have to test everyone.  There
is only one Chosen One, and it could be you!"  He removed my glove.
     "You do understand, don't you?"  he smiled.  He touched my hand.
     Nothing happened.  There was no pain.
     The Oracle's smile faded.  He fell to his knees.  "I don't believe
it," he whispered.  "After all these years you have come.  I..."  He
smiled abrubtly.  "The Orb.  You are its rightful owner.  I will get
it."  He stretched out his palm and a small opaque globe materialized in
it.  He offered the globe to me.
     I took it.  It was about the size, shape and color of a golf ball. 
A little on the heavy side, but still light in weight.  Not knowing what
to do with it, I put it in my pocket.
     "Uh..." I began.  I wanted to ask the Oracle what he meant when he
said I was the Chosen One, and what the golf ball was for.
     I didn't get the chance.  The Oracle turned to Melvin, and seeing
the predicament he was in, gestured to his guards.  They came and helped
Melvin and Zot out of the junk heap.
     "Now, as for your problem," he smiled at Melvin, "I will provide
the coordinates of Jordann's home planet.  You will be able to defeat
him with the Chosen One's power."  He turned away.  "As for me, my task
is finished."
     Melvin, looking puzzled, helped Donald to his feet.  He wasn't
exactly sure what the Oracle was talking about, but if the Oracle said
we could defeat Jordann, that was good enough for him.
     The Oracle suddenly turned and handed us a slip of paper with some
numbers written on it.  "These are the coordinates," he said.
     "Well, we should probably be getting back," said Melvin.  "Where's
your teleporter?"
     "You're standing on it," smiled the Oracle.
     Obviously it was hidden beneath the trash.  Donald moved away some
of the garbage, hoping that it was contaminated with deadly bacteria,
while Melvin located the controls and set them for transport to the
Glorkwinkle.  Then Zot bumped Melvin out of the way and readjusted them
correctly.
     "Thank you for everything," Melvin said.  Then he frowned, unsure
what the Oracle had done for us.
     "No, no; I should thank you," beamed the Oracle, confusing Melvin
even more.
     We stepped on the teleporter and teleported back to the ship. 
Zordoff set a course for Jordann's Home Planet, and we streaked off
toward destiny.

                                 * * *

     Five minutes later, Jordann's battleship arrived at Oorlon.

