The Kruton Interface (19 page)

At the last minute, Sadowski managed to start one engine. The ship hummed with life again.

The
Repulse
veered away from the singularity and went superluminal, streaking for home.

* * *

The captain, Strangefinger, and Rusty spent the voyage playing poker in the mess.

“You know, I’ve grown to like you, Doctor,’’ Wanker said to the unconventional physicist as he dealt him a hand of five-card stud. “Besides, you’re not a bad poker player.”

“Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself”

“I’ll qualify that by saying that I prefer your cyber persona, though. That guy underneath—I dunno, can’t say as I care for him so much.”

“He can be an insufferable little turd,” the good doctor allowed. “I’ll open for a credit. Rusty?”

Rusty slapped a rubber chicken on the table.

“Tapped out, huh? What do you say, Captain, is he in for a chicken?”

“Legal tender in some parts of the galaxy,” the captain said, turning around. “My lunch popped up. You mind if I take a minute to eat, gentlemen?”

“No, go ahead. On a diet? What is that, anyway?”

The captain brought his bowl back to the table. “Lime gelatin.”

But it wasn’t lime gelatin. Lime gelatin is rarely wont to grow a disembodied human hand holding a suspiciously legal-looking paper.

“Oh, hell,” the captain said, throwing down his spoon.

The hand grew a body, and in no time, there was Chicolini standing on the table. He jumped down and served the paper on Captain Wanker.

Wanker accepted it, yawning. “Another subpoena, my Kruton friend?’’

“Hey, I joost-a got started. When I get through with you guys, you not gonna know what’s-a hit you.”

“Do you play poker?”

“Whaddayou think, I’m-a joost get off-a da boat?” The Kruton sat down. “Jacks or better, sky’s da limit?”

“We’re not playing Go Fish, here,” Strangefinger said through his fat cigar.

“Hey, that’s-a my kinda game. Who’s-a deal?”

“My deal,” Captain Wanker said, gathering in the cards. “You know, Dr. Strangefinger, I think you’ll go a long way in your chosen field. And I wish you’d start right now.”

“Listen, I won’t skipper any starships if you don’t crack any more stale jokes,” Dr. Strangefinger said.

“It’s a deal.”

“Speaking of which, shut up and do so.”

CHAPTER 18

The Lord High Judge of Tortfeasors’ Court of the Supreme Judiciary of Kruton brooded in his chambers. Today he was a woeful heap of half-conceived, misshapen tissue, of no particular shape or form. He was a mess.

The mess leaned toward the communicator. “Send Shlurff in,” it commanded.

The door got out of the way to admit a quivering mound of ooze.

“Is that you, Schlurff?”

“Y-yes, sir. Your Lordship, sir. “

“Shut up and splash down.”

Shlurff splashed and became immobile.

“I’ll make this short. You are responsible for my impending forced resignation from the bench. As a result of your incredible bungling, the accident happened on the Kruton side of the Interface!”

“But, Your Lordship, they annihilated one of our battle cruisers!”

“We’ll have to eat it. The incident happened in Kruton territory. There were injuries to the plaintiff! Our ship ran into theirs, there’s nothing we can do but acknowledge that. We have no case for a countersuit!”

“Ulp,” Shlurff said.

“Kruton will have to settle out of court. For billions and billions!”

Schlurff collapsed to a pool of abject slime. “What can I say, my lord? I’m sorry.”

“Oh, you don’t know how sorry you’re going to be. My personal lawsuit against you is now in preparation.”

“Oh, no!”

“Yes. It’s being handled by one of the top billable-hour firms on the planet.”

Shlurff could only moan.

“I’ll countersue,” Shlurff said weakly.

“Hah! I welcome it! They’ll throw it out of court and I’ll recover legal costs from you.”

“Oh, sir, if there were only some way… ”

The Lord High Judge began a bodily reformation, his fetid bulk mounting to the ceiling and rotating about. Two immense bulbous hemispheres of flesh formed, their surfaces studded with horrid boils chancres, carbuncles, and assorted other maculae. Most of these exuded fluids of various colors and varying consistency.

“Make obeisance! Attend to every one of those beauties.”

Shlurff choked and gagged. “No!”

“I might go easy on you. I might settle for something reasonable. An admission of culpability, a nominal fine.”

“You would settle for that?”

“Perhaps! If I like your style. Re-form and attend me!”

“Yuck!” Summoning all his inner strength, Shlurff reshaped his body into a rounded, pillowy thing, its only organ a gigantic, soft-lipped mouth. The mouth rose and began to do its work.

The Lord High Judge sighed. “Feels nice. I might go easy on you at that, if you consent to do this on a daily basis, for a year, say.”

The mouth stopped its sucking long enough to say, “We can talk.”

Shlurff had to admit he was not really having a bad time of it. In fact, the task was becoming enjoyable.

The Lord High Judge felt an internal pressure. His present configuration was prone to excess digestive gas. He made adjustments, and vented it. A noxious effluvium pervaded the room.

“Hey, are you trying to make me sick?”

“Sorry,” the Lord High Judge said.

CHAPTER 19

Alpha Centauri A was setting, throwing pink and purple splotches against the sky at the edge of the tarmac. A band was playing a lively tune, banners were flying, and Captain Wanker’s spirits soared.

That long-delayed promotion to admiral was not yet an actuality, but things were looking very promising indeed.

Wanker drew himself up to attention as Admiral Dickover approached. Behind him, in a ragged line, stood the ranking officers of the U.S.S.
Repulse.
Bursting with pride, they all wore uncontainable grins.

Dickover stopped in front of Wanker. Wanker threw up his best salute, which Dickover returned. The admiral handed over a rolled-up piece of mylar. Wanker accepted and unfurled it. It was a unit citation banner, meant to be flown on the quarterdeck. It read: FOR MERITORIOUS SERVICE.

Dickover’s hand was extended. “Congratulations, Dave.”

It was the first time Dickover had used his first name. As Wanker was still of inferior rank, custom forbade reciprocation, but Wanker said warmly,

“Thanks, Admiral. Appreciate it. Uh, about our next assignment… ?”

Dickover looked slightly pained. “Yes, yes. You want exploration?”

“Yes, sir. I want to get out there, to the frontier, sir. It’s in the blood, sir. You know?”

“Yes, of course. In the blood. Uh, but exploration calls for a crack crew, Dave. You see—”

Wanker raised his eyebrows innocently. “Sir?”

Dickover realized he was outmaneuvered. “I’ll take it up personally with the Deputy Chief of Operations.”

“Thank you, sir!”

“Again, my congratulations. To all of you. You really stuck it to the Krutons.”

“Beat them at their own game, sir.”

“Yes.” Dickover didn’t seem to have his heart in it. “Well, carry on.”

More saluting, and then Dickover about-faced and retreated.

Wanker turned and said, “Ship’s company, dismissed!”

Dr. O’Gandhi, a serene smile on his face, keeled over and died.

After the doctor was successfully revived. Wanker took Mr. Rhodes aside.

“Walk with me.”

“Be delighted to, sir,”

The tarmac seemed to stretch to infinity. A shuttle streaked overhead, heading out into limitless space, the first stars of which were now appearing in this alien sky, far, far from Earth.

An evening mist rose, and the captain and his first officer strolled through it. Runway fights ran in tandem lines out to a distant vanishing point.

“You know, Rhodes, this could be the start of a beautiful friendship.”

“Could be, Captain Wanker. Could be.”

“Vahn-ker.”

“Sorry.”

“Never mind.”