surfaces. See note under Europa for a list of alien residency,” the voice added with a trill at the end as though it were proud of its recitation.
“Explain Galactic histhtory, last thousand yearth or so,” Anubis directed.
“Galactic Trade Company,” the staff stated in a rich contralto voice, “Seat of commerce for the Milky Way galaxy over the last 76 thousand years. Originally began as a trade venture throughout the Centauri system by Rex Fitterdorf—a Jerz from the planet Jeropul, distant cousin to Rasha the Terrifying,” the voice paused and then continued, “Current CEO Cle-zea ab Dul has no criminal background or record of governmental graft. Last test for illicit substances was Tuesday—passed.”
It seemed odd to Bilderbus that the company tested their CEO for illegal substances on a regular basis, but being a Jester himself and used to doling out illegal drugs to appease the masses, he nevertheless pressed on.
“Very well,” he began.
To his surprise, the Chief of OWSF now leaned in and whispered in an undertone, “Mr. President, I think these are the guys you Jesters sell slaves to. You know, the off-world project?”
“Ah!” Bilderbus had been briefed on this. The Court of Jesters, by the interference of certain citizen protection groups, had recently been deprived of the authority to detain and torture the population. Feeling thwarted, they had instead resorted to secretly selling Earth’s denizens off-world.
“Well, if we’re already engaged in commerce with you, why are you here?” He asked peevishly. It had been a nice nap, after all.
“Due to recent unfortunate thircumstances, our clandestine arrangement is no longer possible,” Anubis said smoothly, “The cat is out of the bag, you might thay. I am here to negotiate termth for your inclusion as a company client.” He gave another polite bow.
Now the Chief of OWSF spoke to the alien visitor, “Does this have anything to do with the “space-napping” of that kid in Switzerland this morning?”
“I’m afraid so,” Anubis said in an air of extreme disappointment. He sighed and waved a hand idly in the air, “A slaver ship trying to exit your atmosphere ran thmack into Space Patrol. Unfortunate timing. Now, of course, in order to avoid unnecessary fees and any awkward questions, the CEO has directed me to pretend that Captain Nask was acting of his own accord. He will be spaced, and you and I have the unpleasant business of enacting a cover-up. Very inconvenient.” He shook his head in displeasure.
“But I can assure you, Mr. President,” Anubis gave another polite bow, “The CEO is most thertainly looking forward to meeting your chosen ambassador. Now, shall we discussth who that will be?”
“Oh! Yes, of course,” Mr. Bilderbus wrung his hands, wishing for the first time he still had one or two of those advisors he had so eagerly fired. It would be convenient to have someone on hand to blame for any poor choices, if nothing else.
“GTC polithies demand a certain level of character and sense of discretion in a planetary ambassador, I’m thure you underthtand,” Anubis said smoothly.
“Oh yes, yes.” He nodded, still thinking.
“And by law, no ambassador may be elected who has passed the age of puberty,” Anubis added with a flick of his paw as though this were to be expected.
“Wait, what?” Bilderbus stuttered, flabbergasted.
“Why, it is the law,” Anubis widened his round canine eyes in great surprise at the Earth President’s reaction, “How else are we to determine the correct latitude of opinion and opennessth of mind that is so apparent in the young?” he asked philosophically.
“You want someone you can manipulate easily,” Bilderbus muttered under his breath, seeing through this dirty political ploy.
“It is the most logical tholution,” Anubis argued, “Children are more likely to pick up the nuances of galactic interrelations quickly—a fact that could sthave you time and quadrillions of credit,” he nodded sagely at his own sanguine hint.
“Credit, do you say?” Bilderbus’s eyes shown greedily for a moment. How much money could he possibly gain from this venture? Surely there was treasure out there in space, and opportunities for commerce unlike any here on Earth.
“Yesth,” Anubis nodded. If he noticed Bilderbus’s drooling reaction he pretended not to, “But come—we thould choose an Earth delegate.” He stood and gestured for Bilderbus to proceed him toward the door. The OWSF, still surrounding him with weapons trained on the alien man, shifted around to point away from the Earth President while still keeping Anubis within their sights.
“Oh, stand down,” Bilderbus said belatedly.
Nodding to Anubis, he led the way to the Situation Room down the hall, wondering at the same time how he was going to find a child he could control.
Captain Lissa Phelps
Mr. Piff stood on the bridge of the Forty-Five. He watched from fifteen paces as her new Captain, Lissa Phelps of Earth, stood at the helm listening intently to the ‘bot explain the basics of spatial navigation. Lollipop shuffled from one foot to the other, bored yet refusing to leave the Earthling’s side. Interesting, Mr. Piff thought. Friss, being telepathic, were known to be scrupulously picky. That this one was so obviously attached to the Earthling was a point in the girl’s direction. More proof of his speculations toward Man.
Lissa peered down at the brass bot and shook her hair from her face, looking as though she wished she could settle the new information into place along with the locks of her brown hair.
“So essentially, it’s like sailing through narrow straights between spatial bodies, where the tides are determined by different gravitational pulls, and you use basic geometry plotted against a compass rose to determine where you are?” she looked at the ‘bot for confirmation.
“In so many words, yes,” the little butler said.
Stephanie, a few feet off, laughed and shook her head ruefully, “You’re the geek around here, Lissa! If anyone can fly this thing, it’ll be you.”
Mr. Piff had done all the paperwork necessary to turn over ownership of the Forty-Five Dancing Girls to Lissa, who had changed the name to simply Forty-Five, and was making short work of understanding the mathematics involved in piloting. These Earthlings are smart, Arthur Piff thought, and he was glad to have found an opportunity to deny GTC their capture and enslavement.
With a satisfied nod, Lissa now turned her attention to the Mursi siblings. Shika stood proudly against the rail, alien armor now covering much of her, the white chalk paint on her limbs slightly smeared from her adventures. She looked back into Lissa’s green eyes and gave a small smile. Her brother stood beside her, one hand draped casually on his sister’s shoulders in a protective air.
“Did you understand any of that?” Lissa asked them.
“I understand that you are now owner of this ship,” Ash spoke with a heavy Ethiopian accent, his white teeth flashing in a smile as he imagined the young girl before him flying through space, “But these words of space travel I do not understand.”
He squatted down, placing his spear on the cool planks of the deck and gesturing for Lissa to be seated. She marveled at the differences
