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

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

"I wasn't as afraid of being killed in battle as much as I was of being
bored."
                                                       - Lenny Bruce

     Xorn checked the coordinates on his teleporter console, glanced at
his pistol's charge-rating, and stepped into the cubicle.  The countdown
timer buzzed and Xorn vanished.
     He had to go; he was Melvin's friend.  And he had to help the crew
of Melvin's ship, just because they had the misfortune to be the crew of
Melvin's ship.  He felt sorry for them.

                                 * * *

     Gruell stiffened in horror as the water drenched him, trickling
down his uniform to the floor.  He shrieked in pain as his body
short-circuited, sending thousands of volts of electricity to parts of
his anatomy that were never meant to conduct it.
     The bucket hit him, reflex triggering one brief, powerful burst of
energy.  The electricity flowed through his drenched body.  As the final
power surge was spent, he exploded, sending a shower of foul substances
throughout the room.
     Rhye pressed herself into a corner for shelter as a brilliant flash
of light marked the demise of the doomed engineer.  Then she peeked out
and shrieked in dismay.  Gruell's remains were splattered everywhere. 
All of her work had been ruined.  She slid to the floor, buried her face
in her hands and began to sob.

                                 * * *

     Chester paused in mid-stride as he heard an odd sound off to his
right.  It was, in fact, machine-gun fire mixed with giggling, but
Chester couldn't remember those sounds well enough to identify them.
     He stopped before the door from which the sounds seemed to emerge. 
Puzzled, he put out a huge hand and pushed on the door.
     The door did not budge.
     Growling, Chester attacked the door and flung it inward.  He didn't
notice the small sticker that said "PULL".
     There was a thud as the door hit something, followed by a heavier
whump as the something hit the floor.  The machine-gun racket ceased
immediately.  A word cut through the silence.  "Sellftof!"
     Chester peeked in the doorway.  Donald sat on the floor, slapping
away at a very large, heavily-armed alien, trying to wake him up.  Then
he noticed Chester and gave him a meaningful glare.  "You oaf!  This
could have been it!"
     "Uh...  It what?"
     "Death, you oxymoron!"
     "Oh," said Chester, looking down at the alien.  Sai-Ko didn't look
much like Death to him, but then he couldn't remember what Death looked
like anyway.  "Hey, what's an oxymoron?" he asked, immediately
forgetting the body on the floor.
     "You are, that's what!" stormed Donald, still trying to revive
Sai-Ko, and not meeting with any success.  Sai-Ko wasn't breathing very
well.  Donald immediately began mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
     "Uh...  Where's Melvin?" Chester asked.
     Donald finally gave up.  He turned on Chester.  "This could have
been my ticket out of this life and you ruined it!"
     Chester studied the floor.  "I'm sorry," he whined.
     Then Chester's question penetrated Donald's haze of fury.  Where
was Melvin?  Or anyone else?  Had Jordann captured the ship?  Were all
Jordann's soldiers armed like this?  Realizing that he was wasting his
time with Sai-Ko, he let go of the alien's head.  It thudded to the
deck.
     Donald stood up and went out into the corridor, in search of more
soldiers.  Chester, not having much else to do, followed.

                                 * * *

     I materialized on the observatory deck.  Sparks sparked at my feet.
 Rockets rocketed over my head.  I dropped to the floor in sheer panic. 
Although it wasn't a whole lot safer than standing up, it would be a
more comfortable position in which to die.
     To my left, a discarded potato chip metamorphosed into a Bengal
tiger and sprang over my trembling body.  I thanked my prone state.
     As the tiger landed on the ground it suddenly became a potato chip
once more.  I looked at it in amazement, then cautiously picked it up
and inspected it.  It looked perfectly normal, and I was hungry, so I
ate it.  It made an unusual roaring sound as I swallowed it... or was it
just my stomach growling?
     Beams of colored light flashed above me.  An explosion marked where
they impacted.
     I looked around.
     To my right stood the sorceress from Jordann's ship, enshrouded by
mist.  Behind her was the viewport, along with the complicated computer
controls that operated the screens and lenses of the observatory deck. 
Zordoff stood to my left, looking as if he had taken a beating.
     Since I was lying on the floor, the fierce battle was over my head.
 Both of the magicians were deep in concentration.  They hadn't noticed
me yet, but that didn't mean that I couldn't be killed as a side-effect
of the battle.  And if the sorceress should happen to notice me...
     As I watched, Zordoff launched an intense barrage of what looked
like luminescent crystal pencils at the sorceress.  She immediately
formed a magical shield in front of her, deflecting Zordoff's missiles
easily.  The missiles impacted on the deck uncomfortably close to my
head.  A flare of light surrounded Condra's hand, then zoomed off in
Zordoff's direction.  He barely deflected the attack.
     I had to help Zordoff.  But how?
     I looked around for the banana-gadget but it was nowhere to be
found.  I must have lost it during teleportation.
     Of course.  My magic.  I had used it once; I could use it again.  I
hoped.
     I rolled out of the battle, being careful to avoid the lightning
bolts that sizzled beside me.  Then I stood up, pulled the Orb from my
pocket, held it high, and concentrated hard.  It glowed softly at first,
then more steadily.  I felt the power coursing through me.
     The two magicians were so intent on the battle that they didn't
even notice my actions.  I concentrated on the sorceress.  Gathering all
my energy, I released a fantastic (if I do say so myself) beam of power
at her.
     At the last instant, she saw it coming.  She formed a shield, but
the beam had already broken through.  Condra collapsed, screaming, into
a pile of ashes.
     Her mist refracted the beam, spreading it through the room.  In
panic, I leaped backward, but the beam had no effect on me.  I was the
Chosen One, and my own magic could not harm me.
     I remembered Zordoff and cast a quick counterspell to protect him
from the backlash of the my magic blast.  He was thrown across the room
by the afterblast, but otherwise suffered no harm.
     I looked around the room.  The last of the sorceress's mist was
slowly dissipating; the ventilation system blew her ashes around feebly.
 Several of the viewscreens were broken, and the control system below it
smoked and sparked.  The door had been blown out into the corridor by
the shock wave.  Black soot covered the walls.
     Zordoff rose slowly to his feet.  He stared at me impassively,
wondering what exactly what he should do with me.  He raised his staff;
power coursed through it.  I braced myself, wondering if Zordoff meant
to launch an attack on me.  I didn't know then about the magician's code
of honor, which prohibited magicians from interfering with a duel.  And
I had done just that.
     He looked at me for a long, tension-filled moment.  Then he saluted
me with the staff.  Perhaps he felt that since I knew nothing of the
code of honor, I could not be held responsible for my actions.  Maybe he
was grateful I had saved his hide.
     Or maybe he just didn't want to mess with the Chosen One.
     I smiled back at him and returned his salute.  He moved to the
sorceress's ashes and began the ancient ritual of derogation.  I picked
up the dance quickly, and joined in energetically, and we continued the
curse until the ashes had been blown away.

