Jump Starting the Universe Book Bundle Page 7

  “There was really nothing we could do,” implored the commander.

  “Well yes, that sometimes is the case,” said the man, who finished, “it’s nothing that can’t be sorted in a good report.

  The commander turned to leave the room. Before he reached the door, the man behind him called out. “Commander, I know what you are worried about, so let me give you some advice,” he offered. “Put forward one of your unit members for valor in the face of unknown danger. The situation was mostly inexplicable, wasn’t it?”

  “It certainly was,” said the commander.

  “Well then, pick a good lad and put him up for commendation, who would question that?” suggested the man.

  “Thank you, sir, thank you,” replied the commander as he again turned to leave the room not quite fully understanding events of the last five minutes.

  “Think absolutely nothing of it,” said Prenetian.

  CHAPTER TEN

  TUGURRO

  A Jump Starter is an absolutely amazing invention. It’s rumored that the new Jump Starter-T is capable of translocating its user to any time period in history, forward or past. The Jump Starter Corporation has flatly refused to discuss the matter with news reporters, the public, government officials, and especially the military. Any rumor of the development of a time jumper has been quashed with absolute and complete silence. But there is an old saying, “If there isn’t a story, invent one.”

  The 'rags', people who make it their business to report every crazy story heard in the universe, didn’t back down on the rumor. While that doesn’t necessarily carry much weight with the public (a rag recently refused to withdraw his story of a Cyclomonoarisaur storming about on Brutinian 12), this time the rags may have it right. For the record, Cyclomonoarisaurs are one-eyed creatures the size of 20 transports with smallish arms, whoppingly large legs, a sizable tail for balance, and a considerable mouth full of meter- length teeth.

  Anyway, it turns out some very lucky rag was in the right place at the right time, with a very good holo-camera and telephoto lens and snapped a crisp picture of Jasim Sala, President of Jump Starter Corporation, dashing about his private grounds in an Edsel Corsair, circa 1958 from Terra Bulga.

  The question of course was how Jasim Sala got his hands on an 804-year-old transport from another planet (calculated by using the time displacement correction equation between time in earth’s universe and that of the Jump Starter’s corporate offices). The Edsel was in mint condition we might add.

  The Jump Starter Corporation has refused to discuss the matter claiming the very fine pictures of Mr. Sala and the Edsel were a complete fabrication and rumor. When the pictures were presented as evidence, Jump Starter Corp proposed they were “touched-up.” The rag suggested to his followers that corporate secrets and espionage are a beautiful thing and make great stories.

  Properly programmed a Jump Starter can transport anyone and anything to almost anywhere. The machine has pinpoint accuracy that could place a ball, back in its bearing, in a motor 12 light years away. However, if a Jump Starter is engaged without sufficient programming, all bets are off so to speak. Engaging an un-programmed Jump Starter is like purchasing a clearing house airplane ticket. While a full fair ticket will take you directly to your destination, a clearing house ticket may route you six ways to Sunday, that is, five stops, three very long layovers and an emergency landing before not reaching your intended vacation spot.

  *****************************************

  “Excuse me but exactly where are we Amelia,” said Blackie.

  “Uhmm,” came the reply, “not exactly sure.”

  Wayne turned in his seat and looked at Nita, “Let me know when you think we are no longer clueless.”

  “See, they just said push the button,” pleaded Amelia, “that’s all, just push the button.” Everyone looked at Amelia the way people look at someone who just took advice from a disembodied voice. “I think it was a Lactropodectopoi,” she said.

  Mark looked at Amelia then Wayne and proclaimed, “Hey, maybe we’re not that clueless after all, I mean we don’t take advice from just anyone. The Lactropodectopoi were all right, I thought, in a weird otherworldly kind of way.”

  Everyone seemed to agree, mostly because that was the least disturbing option, and then sat for a long time without saying another word. The silence was interrupted by Wayne who started smiling really big, and then laughed loudly.

  “What’s so funny?” said Mark.

  “Well” said Wayne as he tried to bridle the laugh, and then punched Mark, “well, the last time we were in this situation, we managed to get ourselves arrested immediately. Shall we try again?”

  “Splendid idea,” mused Blackie from the back seat, “there is simply nothing like incarceration to get a trip started off right.”

  “Say again,” offered Nita.

  “Oh nothing, nothing really,” said Blackie, “I was just casting my vote for another jail sentence. If we play our cards right, maybe we can have an arrest record on every planet we visit.”

  “How many did you intend to visit” replied Nita.

  “None,” said Blackie, “none at all.”

  Wayne started the car. “Any thoughts?” he asked.

  “Go right,” said Blackie, who closed his eyes, promptly went to sleep and began to snore.

  “Sorry Nita,” said Mark who looked at Blackie slumped against the door then returned his gaze to Nita, “he snores.”

  “I gathered.”

  “That’s why we normally put him in the back by the hatch.” Wayne pulled forward to look over a slight rise.

  “What is it with these aliens and crystal highways?” he asked.

  Nita looked in the rear-view mirror, caught Wayne eyes and said, “We don’t rub the road.”

  “They, I mean, you what?” said Wayne.

  “They don’t rub the road,” said Mark, “they use hovercraft - the Nomad is a bit of an antique Wayne.”

  “Get off,” said Wayne, “this car is the pinnacle of transportation.”

  “No really,” insisted Mark, “Nita has a hover craft that is sweet. It has deep translucent candy apple red paint, with some boss landing pods, and a 49cc percussion drive that churns out 88,000 equies.” Nita looked at Mark with a look of amazement. “It probably has forced particle induction with bifurcated injectors to get that kind of power,” Nita looked amazed again. “Nita built the engine herself,” said Mark, who hadn’t told Nita he perused a car magazine in the grocery store while he was 'shopping.'

  “Really,” said Wayne, “you know anything about carburetors?”

  “Well I rewired mine,” said Nita, “but it tends to get stuck in the long mode.”

  “The what?” said Wayne?

  “You know the long mode; mine makes both short chain and long chain carbohydrates, like for sweetening or for making pastas and bread; mine gets stuck.” Everyone else laughed, except Blackie, he snored.

  “What’s funny?” asked Nita going rather red in the face.

  “I’m sorry Nita, let me explain,” said Wayne, who launched into a complete dissertation on gasoline engines, carburetors, floats, venturis, and the like. By the time he was finished Blackie was awake and they had pulled into town. “Great,” said Wayne, “no apparent ban on metal yet, and no crisp policemen. So far we’ve failed to repeat.”

  “That’s a drag,” yawned Blackie. Wayne parked the Nomad in front of what looked like a small restaurant.

  “Now what to do?” said Mark. Amelia pulled at her back pocket and produced the card Mark had returned to her.

  “I wonder if this is any good?” she said, “I’m starving.”

  “Oh, those are good everywhere,” said Nita.

  “I bet I know somewhere they are not good,” quipped Blackie, thinking of the Getaway Bar and Grill on Otis-hell highway on Earth, or anywhere on Earth for that matter.

  “How about we eat?” said Amelia.

  “Great idea,” said Mark bounding out of
the car and opening the door for Nita. Blackie got out of the car and looked at Wayne who was already standing beside the Nomad watching Mark nearly break his neck trying to open the door for Nita, before she opened it herself.

  Wayne looked at Blackie and grinned, “Oh I say, after you chap,” he intoned in a Scottish brogue.

  “Oh never,” Blackie returned in a pathetic attempt at a dignified London accent, “after you governor, after you.”

  “Oh no I insist,” Wayne returned.

  “Never sir, never,” Blackie added in a slightly better attempt.

  Mark turned red and with a pleading look faced Wayne and Blackie, “Alright, give it a rest.”

  “Give it a rest governor,” said Blackie.

  “Oh, yes, good show, a rest it shall have,” replied Wayne who pointed the way to the restaurant door. Blackie did his best curtsey and slipped by. Amelia laughed so hard she doubled over and got a stitch in her side. Blackie held open the door to the restaurant and did his best British salute as Mark, Nita, Wayne and Amelia entered.

  The restaurant was larger than it looked from the front. Tables with nice cloth covers were neatly arranged on clean ceramic looking floors. Overhead fans stirred the air and cast a pleasant light throughout the room. They quickly made their way to a table about midway to the back wall.

  Everyone sat down and Wayne leaned over to Nita and whispered, “Say, I…I mean to say” he stammered, “I’m sorry about that alien comment I, I just...

  Nita smiled and looked Wayne directly in the eyes, “Wayne, don’t mention it please. I think I understand what you must be going through. I’ve ridden in the Nomad,” she smiled again.

  “Yeah, highly developed lot, aren’t we?” he whispered.

  Then Nita’s face shifted to a mean look and she said, “But if you offend me again, I’ll zap you into tiny little particles with my third eye.”

  Wayne’s throat constricted slightly and he wondered if Mark knew about this, “You have a third eye do you” he said weakly.

  “Oh, heavens no,” laughed Nita, “But the Bulgarti on Chrystialia do,” she continued, “and they will zap you out of sheer spite or boredom.” Mark was looking over Wayne’s shoulder toward the door, completely oblivious to what they were talking about.

  “Oh, that’s not right,” he said. “No don’t turn around.” Everyone was rigid. “There is a frog person sitting across from a winged insect thingy person at the table behind us.” They didn’t want to eavesdrop but they couldn’t help overhearing part of the conversation.

  “Yes, I do like you very much,” said the frog person, “but you must understand I’m fighting a very strong impulse to eat you.”

  “You are a spineless toad,” said the winged insect thingy person and she stood up and walked out of the restaurant.”

  “Whew,” Mark exclaimed.

  “Just what I thought,” said the waiter. They looked up to find a very tall and large leathery looking creature with an upturned ridge in the middle of his face, and a perfectly pressed towel over his arm. “I can’t say that I blame her though,” said the waiter, “he ate her mother and two of her sisters last week. Do you want to see a menu, or just have drinks?” he asked.

  “Let me,” said Nita, “Tugurro we would like to have a sprot of Jinko, with ice, and three plates of Calca to share.” “Okay, let’s see, a sprot of Jinko and three Calca, got it,” and he proceeded to the kitchen.

  “How did you know his name?” asked Mark.

  “The name tag was a dead giveaway,” replied Nita smiling.

  “What name tag?”

  “The one on his shirt.”

  “There was no name tag on the tag,” added Wayne.

  “Oh, you can’t see,” said Nita.

  “I can see perfectly fine thank you very much,” retorted Wayne.

  “No, you can’t,” said Nita, “this could make things way more complicated.”

  “What are you going on about?” said Wayne.

  “The name tag,” said Blackie, “it’s written in ink we can’t see because out eyes don’t detect that color range.”

  “How did you know that?” said Nita rather impressed.

  “It was the only logical explanation,” replied Blackie, “or you are hallucinating and we are not really here.”

  Ignoring that last bit Nita pressed on, “Not to worry, I think we can manage, I’ll be right back.” She stood and went out the front door.

  About five minutes later, just after the sprot of Jinko arrived, she returned with a medium-sized bag. “Try these on,” said Nita.

  “Wow,” said Mark, “there are rad posters on the walls.”

  “Great, they work. You are going to need these,” she added, “much of what’s written in the universe is written with Gallric Ink from Titsusitia. I think they have an inter-galactic single source contract for 400 more years.”

  Blackie looked at his pair of glasses and asked,” how do they work?”

  “Oh, they are for older people who are losing their eyesight. They concentrate light and change the spectrum to make it easier for old people to see. Or in your case, make it visible.”

  Blackie put on his pair and looked around the room. “Too bad they don’t come with a built-in translator."

  “It’s written in Quantoon,” said Nita, “very easy to learn, I can show you…. no really Mark it’s easy.”

  Mark had rolled his eyes. Learning a new language wasn’t very high on his list or things to do. He didn’t consider it to be one of his stronger skill sets.

  “Mark honestly, it’s really easy,” she said convincingly, “and the language is wonderful, almost like poetry or song.”

  Well, that might not be so bad, Mark thought, I could write songs in Quantoon. “Maybe I’ll give it a go once we’ve eaten and figure out where we are.”

  Tugurro returned with three plates of Calca. Everyone began to eat and drink and it wasn’t long before they all felt refreshed. Blackie thought the Calca was delicious. But he was afraid to ask what it was for risk of spoiling a nice lunch. It was a case of ignorance is bliss or don’t ask for conscience sake, take your pick. Tugurro returned to ask if anyone wanted dessert.

  Amelia leaned over to Nita, “Do you think we spent much, I’m worried about the card balance?”

  “No, not much at all,” said Nita, “and I have my card in my pocket if we need extra.”

  Blackie looked at the dessert menu intently as if to discern the difference between one desert that he had never heard of, and another, that he had never heard of, not to mention the fact it was in Quantoon.

  “I’m afraid this is no use to me at all,” remarked Blackie as he ditched the menu on the table.

  “If you’d like, I can order a few things” offered Nita.

  Mark was still looking at the dessert menu with a perplexed look on his face, “That sounds like a brilliant idea.” Nita ordered three desserts for the five of them to share.

  Tugurro spun around and headed to the kitchen. “He’s pretty light on his feet,” commented Wayne, “for a, I mean, a…what is he exactly?”

  “Cerotodairhin,” replied Nita. He is a Cerotodairhin; probably young. Fully grown Cero’s are about 2.5 meters tall. They are delightful beings, very patient, which is why they’re among the best waiters in the universe. But don’t make them angry. They have a long fuse but when it’s spent, they are rather frightening. I heard a story once about a Jeperia who walked out on a bill and drove away. The Cerotodairhin waiter tracked him for 32 quilongs before he found him and confiscated payment and, according to the rumors, convinced the Jeperian to never stiff a Cerotodairhin again.

  “Thirty quilong transport chase – that must have been exciting,” said Wayne.

  “The Cerotodairhin was on foot,” replied Nita.

  Turrugo appeared out of nowhere next to Wayne, (who jumped like he had seen a ghost) and placed three dishes and five spoons in the middle of the table. “Uhmm, this is great,” said Blackie, “don’t tell me what i
t’s made of.” Wayne was finishing his dessert and having a quiet conversation with Amelia about the need to formulate a plan or schedule or something.

  “Did you say you’ve worked out a plan?” said Mark swallowing.

  “Not exactly, more of an emergency response than anything else,” said Wayne.

  “How so?”

  “As long as we don’t get separated, and we have the Jump Starter, we can pop out if there is trouble” said Wayne. He continued, “I’d prefer to jump while sitting in the Nomad, but if things were really bad, we could abandon it.”

  Mark looked mutinous, “No way, Wayne there is no way I’m going to pop off to some uncharted part of the universe and leave all the band equipment behind.”

  Nita looked sympathetically at Mark, “Most of the universe has been charted Mark, we know what is out there.”

  “Au contraire,” said Mark getting his ire up, “you know what’s out there. Me and this lot, well except Amelia, are clueless.” “And” he added, “I’m a bit uncomfortable with the whole idea.”

  “Mark, how about this,” offered Wayne, “how about if we get in a jam and we’re not near enough to the Nomad for it to make the jump with us (Wayne wondered momentarily how close they had to be) everyone has to agree to jump.”

  Blackie had been quietly watching the exchange between Mark and Wayne, “I think that’s fair, he said.

  “So do I,” said Mark, and looking at Amelia said, “Are you going to eat the rest of that,” while pointing at the remains of her dessert. She smiled and pushed the plate toward Mark. “A lad has to keep his strength up,” said Mark.

  “For what?” said Nita? Mark turned a brilliant shade of something between 620-740 nm on the electromagnetic spectrum. He looked up from the table and there stood Tugurro with the bill.

  “Oh, use this,” said Amelia.

  “We don’t take those,” said Tugurro.

  “Well, how about this one?” said Nita.

  “No, said Tugurro, “we don’t take cards.” Both Amelia and Nita looked struck.