Lawrence Watt-Evans - Out of This World

“Your pardon, sir, but what do you say?” Raven replied.

“Nobody thinks the spaceship is real,” Pel said. “Whoever found it thinks it’s a hoax, right?”

“Indeed,” Valadrakul answered, “you may have the truth of it; our reports cannot tell us everything, but ‘tis hinted your constables think the crewmen mad. Certes, they do not accept them as envoys.”

Raven turned to the wizard. “You’d said naught of that to me,” he said, clearly irritated. “I had thought the captors mad, not the prisoners!”

“My apologies,” Valadrakul said, bowing his head. “There was much to tell, and in my haste…” He turned up a palm.

“I’d like to see these guys,” Pel said.

“Guys?” Donald said, looking up.

“A gnomish word,” Valadrakul told him. “From a trickster of days agone, one Guiler by name, called Guy o’ the Mews, who was famed for harassing the little folk.”

This bizarre false etymology caught Pel’s attention for a moment, distracting him.

Just then Nancy stepped in with a tray, carrying five foaming beer mugs. “I didn’t think cans would go over well,” she said to Pel.

The entire conversation seemed to be going in half a dozen directions at once, and Pel was becoming thoroughly confused. Reversing his earlier decision, he sat down on the edge of the stereo cabinet. “Fine,” he told Nancy.

She smiled, not very confidently, and handed Raven a mug. He thanked her, as Pel wondered where she had found five beer mugs, since he only remembered owning four. Taking another look, he realized that the fifth was actually a small vase that they never used. It was about the right size and shape, though it lacked a handle.

She handed the vase to Stoddard, who nodded his head in polite acknowledgement.

Valadrakul and Donald accepted their mugs gratefully, and Pel himself took the last. He held it without drinking while the others sampled the brew.

He could tell they weren’t impressed, but that wasn’t anything he cared about just now.

“Let me see if I have this straight,” he said. “The Galactic Empire sent a ship, with ten men aboard, to make contact with our government-in Washington, I guess?”

He glanced at Valadrakul, who made a sort of one-handed shrug while sipping beer with the other.

“They found out the hard way that some of the machinery doesn’t work here, and the ship crashed, somewhere north of here, but still in Montgomery County. Right so far?”

Raven nodded.

“Then the county police came and arrested them all for trespassing,” Pel continued, “and hauled them away somewhere-the county jail in Rockville, probably.”

Valadrakul nodded this time.

“And they’re still there, and the cops think they’re crazy, they don’t believe any of this stuff about spaceships and galactic empires.”

No one objected to any of that.

“All right,” Pel said, “I’ve got all that-so what are you people doing here?”

Raven put down his beer-what little was left of it. Pel noticed that Nancy was collecting an empty vase from Stoddard. “More?” she asked.

He nodded, and she slipped away to the kitchen.

“The Empire,” Raven explained, “has given up their men as lost-aye, and the lady, as well, for the ship had a woman aboard. The man who has charge of the matter has decided against any attempt at rescue, or any further expedition hither. Thus, these ten are abandoned, at the mercy of their captors. ‘Tis a coward’s decision, say I, but ‘tis made, nonetheless.”

Pel nodded.

“The thought came to us,” Raven continued, “that perhaps we might find a use for these abandoned men, ourselves. They might tell us much about the Galactic Empire. We might find a worthy ransom, should we offer to send them home. Failing all else, we could at the least find ourselves with nine more brave men in our fight against the creatures of Shadow.”

“And a woman,” Pel added.

Raven ignored the interruption; his speech rolled on as if Pel hadn’t said a word. “We know naught of your world, however, and finding and freeing these Imperials could be a fearsome task. Our portal opens in your cellars and is not so very easily moved, nor can its point of arrival be precisely determined in advance; further, you seemed a good man and kindly disposed toward me. Thus, we came hither to seek your counsel.”

Nancy reappeared with the vase refilled.

“You want me to tell you how to get these people out of jail?” Pel said. He saw smiles and nods starting, and asked, “How would I know?”

The smiles vanished and the nods never came. Raven and Valadrakul exchanged an unhappy glance. “We had thought,” Raven said, “that you might perchance know something of this prison-its strengths and weaknesses, perhaps, whether a warder might be bribed, somewhat of that nature.”

“You want me to help you get these guys out of jail?” Pel asked again.

Nancy looked up from the tray. “Have you talked to their lawyer?” she asked.

Raven and Valadrakul stared at her, startled.

“What’s a lawyer?” Raven asked.

* * * *

“Maybe I should talk to them,” Amy said, uncertainly, as she toyed nervously with a ballpoint pen.

Susan looked up from the forms she was reading. “Why?” she asked.

“Well, I don’t want to be vindictive or anything,” Amy explained, “I just want everybody to get their stuff out of my yard and leave me alone.”

“And pay for your hedge and your tree and all the other damage,” Susan pointed out.

“Yeah,” Amy admitted. “That, too.”

The desk sergeant shook his head. “I don’t think those guys are gonna pay for anything, lady,” he said. “They didn’t have a cent between them, they haven’t called anyone about getting bailed out, nothing.”

Amy stared. “They still haven’t?” she asked.

“Nope. Not one of them. They’re all sticking to their story about this Galactic Empire, and most of ‘em won’t give us anything but name, rank, and serial number.”

Amy looked at Susan, who shrugged.

Amy frowned. “If they’re real,” she said, “then they can’t pay for anything, can they?”

Susan answered, “Who knows? If they’re for real, then it’s all beyond me. If they’re not real, though, and they’re carrying it this far…”

“If they’re not real, then screw ‘em,” Amy said, grabbing the pen. “They’re carrying it much too far, and as far as I’m concerned they can rot here. Where do I sign?”

The desk sergeant pointed.

* * * *

Prossie heard someone calling her name, or at any rate something intended for her; she sat up and listened.

To her ears the cell was silent, save for the distant hissing of the highway that passed near the jail. It was her mind that had been touched.

“Carrie?” she said, whispering to make sure her thoughts were in words. “Is that you?”

Her ears still heard nothing, but the words reached her. “Yes, it’s me, Prossie,” the telepathic voice replied. “How are you doing?”

“Better,” Prossie replied. “Much better. That woman filed formal charges against us this morning, so they sent an attorney for us, whether we wanted one or not, and he explained some things-oh, Carrie, I wish I’d asked for an attorney sooner!”

Carrie’s response was a wordless questioning.

“They aren’t going to keep us here,” Prossie said. “They can’t keep us. They have all these complicated rules they follow, and guarantees of rights-it’s really incredible, if it’s all true. We should be free in a few days, I think.”

After a moment of mental silence, Carrie asked, “Then what?”

“I don’t know,” Prossie admitted. “But I’m sure we’ll manage somehow. We can work, or live off the land, and find some way to get back to the warp eventually, I’m certain of it. It’s just a hundred yards above where the ship crashed-that can’t be all that inaccessible.”