Terry Bisson - The Fifth Element

Korben opened the shower. Leeloo was standing under the spray, shivering violently.

“I’m sorry,” said Korben. “I forgot the hot water doesn’t work too well in this old racktower.” He dragged a blanket out of a corner and wrapped her in it.

She snuggled into his arms, still shivering violently.

Korben’s rubbing slowed, passing gradually over the line that divides a friendly rub from an intimate caress.

“It’s funny,” he said. “I’ve met you twice today, and you’ve ended up in my arms both times.” Leeloo smiled and snuggled even closer. “Vallo massa. Chacha hamas.”

“Uh… you’re welcome,” said Korben. Nervously, he pulled away.

“Coffee! That’s what you need,” he said. He hit the control pad on the microwave.

Such eyes! They made him nervous. “A nice hot cup of coffee. With honey.”

He had sworn off women for good. Hadn’t he? So why was his heart pounding?

“With honey!” Korben said agitatedly. “You’ll see, honey’s great!”

But where was the damn honey? Korben opened drawer after drawer, rummaging through six months of unsorted bachelor debris.

“A hot cup of coffee… with honey…”

Leeloo seemed to want to help. Still wrapped in the army blanket, she followed him around the tiny apartment, opening and shutting drawers.

“Huh knee!” she said.

“I’ve got this great honey somewhere,” Korben babbled nervously. “You know about honey? There used to be these little animals with antennae who made it…”

Leeloo found a picture in one of the drawers. She took it out and held it up.

It was Major Korben Dallas, War Hero. Accepting a medal for Valor Above and Beyond.

“…and there were these other animals that ate it,” Korben went on. “Some were called bees and some were called bears.”

Leeloo looked from the War Hero to the nervous, fumbling man who was babbling to her about bears and bees…

And she smiled.

“I forget which ate it and which made it,” said Korben. “But… here it is!”

He held up an old-fashioned screw-top jar. He unscrewed the top.

“Taste this.”

Leeloo stuck her lovely finger into the pot of honey; then stuck the same finger into her lovely mouth.

Korben was mesmerized.

“It… melts in your mouth, uh, doesn’t it?”

Leeloo nodded. She sucked her finger sensually; then dipped all four slender fingertips into the jar, and sucked them clean… one by one by one by…

Korben was lost.

Gone.

Helpless.

He was so enthralled by the sight of Leeloo that he didn’t even hear the muffled knocking from inside the wall.

Until it became a steady thud.

Thump.

Thump!

THUMP!

THUMP!!!

“Do you hear that?” Korben asked.

Leeloo nodded, still licking her fingertips.

“Cor knee lee us,” she said.

“Oh, God!”

Korben pushed the button on the wall, and the bed popped open.

Father Cornelius was tangled in the dirty laundry, upside down.

“I’m really sorry,” Korben said. “Let me help you!”

“We don’t need your help,” said Cornelius, untangling himself up with all the dignity he could muster.

Bleep! went the microwave.

“Coffee’s ready,” said Korben. He crossed to the counter and poured a cup for himself and one for Leeloo.

“I’m warning you,” he said. “Coffee’s not my specialty.”

He turned to offer her her cup—and saw that she had removed her wet clothing. She was wringing them into the sink.

She had set aside the army blanket.

She was nude.

Shockingly, fetchingly, adorably, magnificently, wonderfully and totally nude.

Perfectly nude.

Embarrassed, Korben turned away, back toward the coffeepot.

“Maybe I should, uh, keep it hot,” he muttered. “I like it… hot.”

Behind him, Cornelius was studying a heavy, dusty military trophy—an award Korben had gotten during a forgotten war and now used as a paperweight.

Cornelius hefted it, then raised it over his head—and brought it down on the back of Korben’s head.

A short, sharp shock.

Leeloo looked at Cornelius angrily. “Vano da, mechtaba? Soun domo kala chon hammas!”

“I know,” said Cornelius. “I’m not proud of myself. But we don’t have the luxury of choice.”

Meanwhile, the police SWAT team was taking the bagged nasty neighbor out the entrance to a waiting cruiser, when they, too, felt a short, sharp shock.

Pop!

Pop!

Pop!

Three tranq shots from silenced weapons, and the cops folded up like newspaper in the rain.

Three Mangalore warriors, experienced shapeshifters, picked up the body bag even as their features were shifting back to their natural, hideous form. The strain of looking human had taken its toll, and all three warriors were exhausted.

They hauled the body into the back of a hovering van, where Aknot, still alive but seriously injured from the warehouse blast, was waiting impatiently.

“Korben Dallas,” the Mangalore hit team leader said, indicating the squirming bag. “We got him!”

“Perfect,” groaned Aknot. “Take command, Akanit. Go to Fhloston and get the stones. If Zorg really wants them, he’ll have to negotiate.”

He closed his narrow eyes.

“Revenge is at hand!”

Korben struggled to his feet.

He looked around the apartment, which had only just recently been graced with the beautiful image and presence of Leeloo.

And that grim priest.

Both gone.

“Jesus!” said Korben. He put a hand to the back of his head. It was sticky with blood.

The plot thickened.

BRRRRIIIINNNNG!

Korben picked up the phone with one hand, while he kept the other on the back of his head.

“Yeah?”

“Have you pulled yourself together yet!?!”

“Not yet, Ma.”

He hung up.

Korben’s head was killing him. He needed ice.

He pressed the wall button and the conveyer groaned, replacing the shower with the walk-in freezer.

He opened the door and faced the frozen stares of General Munro and Major Iceborg.

Whoops! Forgot.

“I’ll accept the mission,” Korben said, grabbing a few cubes and closing the door.

Manhattan Intergalactic Airport was almost full.

Of trash, not travelers.

A strike was in progress, and the sanitation workers had let the garbage pile up almost to the ceiling of the lobby.

Narrow paths bulldozed through the debris led to the check-in counters and terminal gates.

Striking workers marched and chanted. Some were human, some were ‘bots or ‘droids; others were alien or altered. They all carried picket signs.

The police, meanwhile, were massing to move in. The air was thick with tension, like the electricity before a summer storm.

The novice, David, was watching when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Yaahhh!” he cried, jumping back.

He turned and saw Father Cornelius and the lovely Leeloo, still dripping wet—but fully dressed.

“Did you get them?” asked Cornelius, never a man to beat around the bush.

David nodded. He handed the priest two passports.

“Excellent,” said Cornelius, opening them and studying the forgery work.

He handed one to Leeloo. “Leeloo Dallas.”

She smiled delightedly and took it.

“And Korben David Dallas. Perfect!” Father Cornelius handed the second passport back to David.

Leeloo’s smile faded. “Akta dedero ansila deno poerfect?”

Father Cornelius shook his head. “Leeloo, I can’t pretend to be your husband. I’m old. David’s in great shape. He’s young, he’s strong. He’ll protect you.”

David seemed to swell up with each syllable of praise. He held out a hand toward Leeloo, who took it somewhat reluctantly.