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

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

"I have yet to see any problem, however complicated, which, when you
looked at it the right way, did not become more complicated."
                                                       - Poul Anderson

     Rhye woke up.
     She looked around, shocked.  She didn't recognize her surroundings.
 Even more shocking was the fact that (even though the area was dimly
lit and she could barely see) the place was obviously a mess.  It could
use some cleaning.  She stood up, shakily.
     She opened a nearby door, hoping that the closet behind it would
contain a mop or a bucket, or both.  Unfortunately, it didn't contain
any cleaning utensils, but only boxes of small, biodegradable drinking
glasses.  Looking in disgust at the mess around her, she closed the door
and left the room in search of a more fully stocked closet.
     As it happened, the next closet that she came upon contained a
bucket, and the same mop that she had used earlier.  It brought a sense
of comfort to know that some things never changed.  She picked up the
cleaning utensils and filled the bucket with hot, soapy water.
     This was simple, since each sink on the Glorkwinkle was equipped
with, in addition to the standard "Hot" and "Cold" faucets, a "Soapy"
faucet, and, in some cases, a vast array of faucets which dispensed
after-shave, aloe vera skin lotion, hair tonic, underarm deodorant,
cleansing cream, cheese sauce, shoe polish, lemonade, ninety-weight gear
lube, mouthwash, chicken soup, strawberry daiquiris, steak sauce, hot
fudge, typewriter correction fluid, furniture polish, and/or styling
mousse, depending on the function of the sink.
     On the way to the room in which she had regained consciousness, she
caught a glimpse of an even messier room through a slightly open doorway
and decided to start there instead.
     There was a sign on the door, which Rhye, intent on her cleaning
task, did not notice.  It read:

                           CAPTAIN'S QUARTERS
                            (and half bath)

     Ignoring the sign, Rhye entered the room and began to mop.

                                 * * *

     On board Jordann's ship, Zeek waited vigilantly just outside the
teleporter room.  He was a little upset that he hadn't been included in
the boarding party, but, since he was invisible, he supposed that his
omission was understandable.
     Finally, the sentry that had been guarding the teleporter stepped
into the attached restroom, and Zeek rushed into the room.  He reached
for the teleporter console, his sleeve brushing accidentally against a
knob.  After setting a time-delay, he stepped into the cubicle.
     The knob was marked "TELEPORTER SABOTAGE LEVEL," and Zeek's
accidental twist had set it to 2.  The teleporter could be used only
twice more before its imminent failure.  A red light marked "SABOTAGE"
lit up.  Zeek didn't notice.
     Even if he had noticed it, he wouldn't have cared.  It would serve
Jordann right for leaving him out of the boarding party.
     The teleporter buzzed and Zeek was gone.

                                 * * *

     Jordann crashed heavily onto the toilet seat.  He reached for a
pickle and discovered that his pickle pouch had fallen into the waste
processing hole, lost forever.
     Jordann fumed.
     This was Condra's doing.  One moment, he was standing up to her. 
The next thing he knew, he was trapped in a pay toilet cubicle that was
about two sizes too small for him.  The door was stuck shut.
     He was trapped inside a pay toilet cubicle.
     On a nerd ship.
     With no pickles.
     He had not suspected that Condra could be so cruel.
     He fumed.
     Jordann didn't know why the cubicle was stuck shut, and he wouldn't
have cared if he had known.  Three weeks ago, an android, feeling the
need to use the cubicle's facilities, had deposited an antediluvian coin
into the pay slot.  The mechanism had been unable to tolerate such a
large coin, and had frozen shut, keeping the coin, too.  The android,
muttering mechanical curses, had moved on to find another place to
relieve itself.
     Jordann fumed some more.  Until, that is, he realized that he was
about to belch.  He had nothing against belching; in fact, he enjoyed
the experience often.  But even he knew the olfactory dangers of
belching in small pay toilet cubicles.
     He tried to keep the gas down, but it seemed to have a mind of its
own.  It rolled around, made strange noises in Jordann's belly, then
finally rose.  "BhhhuuUURRRRRPPP!!"  The gigantic belch shook the entire
cubicle, filling it with the revolting stench of half-digested pickles. 
The antediluvian coin rattled in the pay slot and fell through.  The
lock popped, the door swung open, and cool, fresh air rushed in.  With
one titanic belch, Jordann put to shame every pay toilet repairman in
the galaxy.
     Jordann stood up, a gleam of conquest lighting in his eyes.  He was
free.

                                 * * *

     Bhujm looked around the deserted bridge, then looked down at his
"banana," just in time to see it disappear from his hands.  He let out a
startled "Oops."
     Moving to the communication console, he absently wondered exactly
where the others were.  The teleporter would not allow them to end up in
a life-threatening environment such as a vacuum, so he knew that they
hadn't been immediately destroyed.  That gave him some comfort.
     Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a red light glowing brightly. 
He moved toward it, curious.  What he saw made him hot with anger.  The
digital indicator showed ship's power level at almost seventy percent.
     The nerds' supposed disability was just as Gruell had suspected: a
trick to get them to transport aboard.  Well, he'd just have a squadron
of soldiers sent over and see how the nerds liked that.  Turning to the
navigation console, he re-activated all the main power systems and
opened a communications channel to Jordann's ship.
     "This is Bhujm," said Bhujm.
     "Go ahead, Underlord, over," crackled a voice in return.
     He reported concisely.  "It was a trick.  The nerd ship was not
disabled.  They register almost seventy percent power.  There has been a
teleporter accident.  Location of personnel unknown.  Send over a squad
of soldiers; we will be needing a search party."
     "Begging His Underlord's pardon," came the reply, "but someone has
sabotaged the teleport system.  We can only transport one more person
before it is completely disabled.  Over."
     "Sabotage!" exclaimed Bhujm.  "How did this happen?  There is to be
a guard on the teleporter at all times!"
     Crackled the reply, "The assigned sentry had to relieve himself and
neglected to arrange coverage.  He has been executed.  Over."
     "Very good.  You acted properly.  You say that you can teleport
only one more person?"
     "Yes, Underlord, over."
     "Then send over Sai-Ko," instructed Bhujm, after a moment's
thought.  "Locate an alien life-form and lock onto its coordinates.  But
keep him away from us!"
     "Yes, sir, over!"
     "Bhujm out."  He smiled.  It wasn't as good as a squadron, but some
nerd would have his hands full soon.

                                 * * *

     Donald was feeling depressed.  He was doing pretty good there for a
minute, ready to face his death at the hands of his enemy, but then he
wasn't heading toward the enemy anymore, he was heading toward a wall. 
The fact that he had run into it hard was small comfort.
     A soft humming noise filled the small room.  Donald's spirits rose,
almost taking Donald with them before he managed to get a firm grip on a
nearby chair and pull himself back to the deck.  Someone was teleporting
into the room.  He turned toward the cold blue glow.
     As the alien being materialized, a thrill swept through Donald. 
Never before had he seen so many weapons!  It had to be one of Jordann's
soldiers.  If this guy couldn't kill him, nobody could!
     The enemy spotted Donald and brought one of his weapons to bear. 
Laser fire sliced the air, and Donald was thrown backward, screaming
happily.  He landed in a heap, and Sai-Ko turned to go, intending to
search out more interesting prey.
     Donald saw him turn and, even as the laser wounds healed, stood up.
 No way was he going to let this man get away while he was still alive! 
He stuck out his tongue and gave the arms-bearing man a Bronx cheer.
     Slowly Sai-Ko turned, confused.  Instinct took over: nothing must
survive.  Nothing must survive.  He repeated it over and over to
himself, his personal mantra of destruction.  Pulling out his flame
thrower, he took aim once more.

                                 * * *

     Snort arrived, exhausted, at the elevator and punched frantically
at the call button.  He had to get back to the bridge to see if he could
help somehow.  Or get Donald back for his nasty revenge.
     Snort thought, suddenly, that if there were a spy on board, it
might be Donald himself.  After all, by his own admission, he had served
in Jordann's fleet for a while, and claimed to have firsthand knowledge
of Jordann's garbage.  Yes, if anyone were dirty, it was likely to be
Donald.
     The elevator was descending slowly.  The power shutdown, Snort
realized; the elevator was on emergency backup power.  Picking up his
bagpipes, he began playing a traditional dance song of his home planet
to pass the time.
     A visitor to Snort's home planet, many years ago, had noticed an
the song's hypnotic effect on rodents.  Since there were no rodents on
Snort's home planet, this effect had previously gone unnoticed for
centuries.  The clever traveler, using the alias "Pied Piper," had
successfully rid several Earth towns of rat infestations, making a quick
buck in the process.
     If Snort had paid more attention in history class, he might have
known this, and might have then realized why the elevator was running so
sluggishly as the gerbils strained to hear his song better.  Tiring of
waiting for the elevator, he turned to the nearby stairwell instead.
     As Snort began trudging up the stairs, still playing his bagpipes,
the lights brightened around him as Bhujm re-activated the power supply.
 Snort, engrossed in his music, didn't realize that the elevator had
become operational with the restoration of power, and so continued up
the stairs.
     On the bridge, as Snort came closer and closer, Bhujm's sensitive
ears perked up as the first strains of an incredibly beautiful song
reached him.

