Mark McGinnis - The Simpleton

The orb did not answer.

Cuddy glanced over to the stacks of paper atop the desk and tried to recall all he’d learned over the course of five days; the many hours of practice he and Bob had endured. Are we ready? Then wondered, is Bob ready?

“Bob… can you open a communication channel to the commander of the approaching Howsh fleet?”

“Yes, I can open a channel, although it will be up to them whether they want to answer the hail or not.”

“Remember, Bob, you cannot sound like a… an AI. You need to sound like an old Howsh supreme commander…”

Sub-Forgue Molth paced the circular raised dais while keeping his eyes on the elevated screen. To him, there was no clear indication the Evermore was even out there, but the four bridge crewmen assigned to tactical assured him that indeed it was.

What he was now viewing was nothing more than a miniscule scattering of spatial artifacts that didn’t look like much of anything. Molth was a nervous Howsh officer, told numerous times that he came across as trying too hard to please his superiors. Was too needy. But considering the fact that two previous first officers to Lorgue Prime Eminence Norsh had been demoted for incompetence, Molth was determined to make a far more positive, long-lasting impression.

He vigorously scratched the growth between his eyes then noticed it had started to bleed again. He casually glanced around the command center, checking to see if anyone had noticed him wiping his claws over the dark trousers of his uniform.

“Sub-Forgue Molth, there is an incoming hail coming from the Evermore , sir.”

“Who is it?”

“It is not that foul Pashier, the one called Tow. He says he is Lorgue Supreme Eminence Calph, and he is ordering us to stand down.”

“Preposterous!” Suddenly nervous, Molth raised a claw to scratch his face again, but caught himself, and lowered his arm back down. Could that even be possible? he pondered. Lorgue Supreme Eminence Calph, a Howsh legend, was reportedly lost in space some ten years earlier. Molth was fairly certain that Calph was Lorgue Prime Eminence Norsh’s mentor. A hero—numerous monuments, on their home world, had been erected in Calph’s honor. How could this possibly be?

“Very well, put him through.”

“Lorgue Supreme Eminence Calph, this is Sub-Forgue Molth… commander of this Marauder fleet. Would you please make yourself visible… disengage from stealth mode, if you would be so kind?”

Molth listened to dead air for several moments. Distant background noise sounded like papers being shuffled.

“I knew your father, Parliamentary Head Molth. Is he still alive?” Eminence Calph asked.

Sub-Forgue Molth’s heart rate increased exponentially. “Ah, no sir… he died, um, two years past.” A pregnant pause then ensued, with more crinkling of paper.

“He was a true leader, within a difficult Howsh bureaucracy. He will be missed. Now listen to me carefully, Sub-Forgue Molth. I was marooned on planet Earth for over ten years and have commandeered the Evermore. The Pashier I believe you are seeking, Captain Tow, has died. But not before he destroyed three Howsh Scout ships. I witnessed their destruction myself. Tow was one clever Pashier, I have to give him that. One more thing… there is a foul heritage pod still on board this vessel. Unfortunately, I do not have the means to destroy it myself.”

“I understand, Lorgue Supreme Eminence Calph. I will immediately make provisions for you on board the command ship. Once on board, we can destroy the Evermore —along with the pod.”

“Unfortunately, I am suffering with Paltrope . Do you know of it?”

“Yes, Eminence Calph.”

“Then tell me… has a cure been found for this foul disease? Perhaps one over the past few years?”

Molth reflexively made a bitter face. Paltrope was a highly contagious, disgusting disease that caused hundreds of oozing skin legions. He too had been tested for it recently. Luckily, his facial growth was nothing more than an out-of-control mole. What he did know was he didn’t want to get anywhere near that very contagious high commander.

“Yes, Eminence Calph. Your particular… ailment will require Califer Ionization Therapy… CIT. Unfortunately, the treatment is only available back on Rianna 5.”

“Well, then you must escort me there at once!”

“Rianna 5 is hundreds of light-years’ distance from our current coordinates, Lorgue Supreme Eminence Calph. I am truly sorry, but I have direct orders, from Lorgue Prime Eminence Norsh, to reassemble our fleets at another planet, called Primara, once my mission here has been completed.”

“Yes, yes, I’m familiar with Primara. It’s located at the far end of the quadrant… in the opposite direction of Rianna 5!”

“Again, I apologize. A quick detour to Primara first, then we should be able to accommodate you, sir,” Molth told him. “Again, it is an honor to speak with you. This… today… is an historic event!” Although Molth had little doubt he was speaking to the high commander, he still would feel more at ease if his eminence would remove the stealth mode cover on the Evermore —to personally ensure that Eminence Calph was indeed alone on the vessel.

Molth continued, “At this time, would it be possible for you to come out of stealth mode, Eminence Calph? It is protocol… as I’m sure you are—”

Eminence Calph cut him off. “Ask me that again and I’ll have you transferred to a scout ship, scraping out shit from sub-deck collectors. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, I do apologize, Lorgue Supreme Eminence Calph.”

Calph, now taking a more conciliatory tone, continued, “If you really knew what advanced Paltrope did to someone, you would understand why I do not want to be observed. Fortunately, the Evermore ’s stealth mode prohibits prying, invasive optic feeds. It allows me some privacy.”

“Yes, of course. I understand, Lorgue Supreme Eminence Calph.” Molth let it go, having zero doubt, anyway, who he was conversing with.

“Good, stand by. I will be joining your fleet within minutes, then you will have visual sighting of the Evermore. Together, we shall move toward Primara in all due haste.”

With the exception of Brian, the entire Evermore crew—Cuddy, Kyle, Jackie, and Tony—huddled into the bridge to witness the historic, impending event. Cuddy doubted anything like this had ever occurred before, where a Howsh fleet would actually escort an enemy—Pashier—spacecraft.

“And what… they’re just going to let us merge into their fleet, like we’re one of their own?” Kyle asked skeptically.

Cuddy shrugged, not completely sure what to expect either.

“There they are,” Tony said, pointing out the forward observation window. “Fuck… look at the size of those things!”

As they approached the Howsh fleet, five large warships changed their positions, reassembling into a horseshoe formation.

The orb said, “I am being directed to decrease speed and bring the Evermore into their awaiting formation cluster.”

“Guess it’s too late to back out now,” Jackie said, glancing over to Cuddy.

“Like she said, it’s too late to back out now. Go ahead and merge us in, Bob.”

“There is an incoming hail for Lorgue Supreme Eminence Calph, Captain Perkins. I have implemented a translation module so you can better understand what is being said.”

Cuddy nodded, then glanced back at his desk, at the stacks of papers, and wondered if he would need to help Bob out again, like before. “Okay ... answer it.” There was a definitive clicking sound, then Cuddy heard the same voice—it was Molth.