The Red Tape War Part 7

"We'll just send a Wavier of Jurisdiction form to Komornos and a copy to Galactic Central, and as soon as both are signed and returned, we'll have you out of there in no time."

"How long will this actually take?" asked Pierce warily.

"Six weeks, Standard Time. Two months at the outside. Cheer up, Pierce-help is on the way!" The connection was broken.

"Great!" spat Marshmallow.

"Sounds familiar," commented the alien Pierce, not without a note of sympathy.

"They'll be back in six weeks," said Pierce with more confidence than he felt. "I see no reason for continuing this hostility. After all, we have so much in common. We speak English, we have the same name, we come fromsimilar backgrounds, I'm a human being and your people are basically humanoid . . ."

"Hold it right there, fella," said the general. "The way I see it, we're the humans and you guys are the humanoids. Now try not to bother me while I figure out what to do with you and that creature with the extra pair of lungs."

"Are you insulting me, you ugly little polywog?" demanded Marshmallow. "Because if you are, I'll see to it that Daddy takes a horsewhip to you!"

"Will you indeed?" responded the general, suddenly interested.

"You bet your ugly little red scales he will! He's probably got half the fleet out looking for me!"

"Your father's a big shot in this galaxy?" asked the general.

"The biggest!" she stated smugly.

"Excellent!" proclaimed the general. "Then we don't have to seek out your armadas at all. All we have to do is sit on you-figuratively, of course," he added with some distaste, "and they'll come to us." He smiled. "A most fortuitous meeting indeed."

"May I point out that we're not sitting on anything at present," interposed Pierce mildly, "but are traveling to G.o.d knows what computer nuptial bed at more than two hundred times the speed of light?"

"My s.h.i.+p!" said Marshmallow suddenly. "What happened to my s.h.i.+p?"

"It's quite a few light-years behind us," said the general. "My more immediate concern is what is to become of my s.h.i.+p?"

"What do you mean?" asked Pierce. "We're attached to it."

"True, but it's not wise to transfer s.h.i.+ps in hyper-s.p.a.ce or at light speeds," replied the alien Pierce. "I could be stuck in this minuscule vessel for weeks, or even months. Order will break down. In fact, if I'm not back aboard my own dreadnought in the next couple of hours I could be considered A. W. O. L."

"I'm sure they'll understand," said Pierce.

"It's not their business to understand," said the general harshly. "It's their business to court- martial me. After all, we carry a full legal staff and three judges aboard s.h.i.+p. It would be unethical of me not to stand trial."

"But what if they found you guilty?" asked Pierce.

"It's almost certain that they will. Rule 3004, you know. But as general, I have a right to review all cases involving military personal, and in extreme cases I can commute sentences."

"Well, that takes care of that," said Pierce.

"Oh, it's not as easy as you'd believe," continued the general. "For one thing, I can't review the case without triplicate copies of a written transcript."

"And you don't carry any stenographers in a combat s.h.i.+p, eh?"

"On the contrary, we carry a full complement of twelve stenographers . . . but it would take weeks, possibly even months, to determine which one had seniority." "And he'd type it?"

"Hardly," scoffed the general. "But he'd offer a list of recommendations, which would then have to go to Personnel. They'd narrow the list down to three, I'd have to choose one, and then it would go back to Non-Commissioned Officers' Local 397 for counterapproval."

"I see," said Pierce, who was experiencing a strong sense of deja vu.

"Then, of course," continued the general, "every-thing would depend on what time of day- s.h.i.+p's time-the trial was held. After all, a general's trial requires a certain amount of pomp and circ.u.mstance."

"What does one have to do with the other?" asked Pierce.

"Well, you don't suppose that I'm in command of our attack force twenty-four hours a day, do you?"

"You're not?" asked Pierce, surprised.

"Of course not!" replied the general contemptuously. "We're in s.p.a.ce now, where there is no night or day. We're on duty around the cosmic clock."

"I don't understand."

"You don't really think I could stride manfully* at the helm, giving orders all day and all night, day in and day out, do you? Of course you don't! How would I ever eat, or find it possible to answer calls of nature? In point of fact, I'm only the general from noon to 8:00 P.m., s.h.i.+p's time."

*Actually, the word was lizardfully, but let it pa.s.s.

"You have three commanding generals?" said Pierce incredulously.

"We not only have three generals, but three staffs and three attack forces. Anything else would just cause confusion."

"I see," said Pierce, who didn't really.

"However, this is all academic," continued the alien. "Actually, I don't have a thing to worry about for another four hours."

"What happens then?"

"I go off duty," responded the general. "But until then, no member of my crew can board your s.h.i.+p without written permission from me-and of course, stuck here with you distasteful humanoids as I am, I can't very well give them written permission, can I?"

"It all works out very neatly then, doesn't it?" said Pierce with a wry smile.

"Most bureaucratic structures do, once you get the hang of them," replied the general smugly.

"And of course the odds are one in three that I'll be in command when this creature's father makes a futile attempt to rescue her."

"We'll see just how futile he is when he gets here, Plug Ugly," said Marshmallow nastily.

"We shall demolish him," said the general with absolute certainty, "and then I will rule supreme in this sector of the galaxy."

"I wouldn't count on that," said a low voice.

All eyes turned to the speaker. It was the other alien, and he had drawn his sword.

"What in the name of pluperfect h.e.l.l is going on here?" demanded the general.

"It's your d.a.m.ned fault that we're in the wrong galaxy in the first place," replied the other alien, brandis.h.i.+ng his sword in his right hand. "I see no reason why you should take all the credit when we destroy the armada of this creature's father. When that happy moment occurs, I shall be in command."

"Colonel Mulvahill, this is mutiny!" bellowed the alien Pierce.

"True," agreed Mulvahill. "It also happens to be the only way to advance in this lizard's army.

Now, General, prepare to die!" "Pierce!" cried the general. "Do something!"

"Who, me?" asked Pierce weakly.

"Of course you!" snapped the general. "You don't think he'll leave any witnesses, do you?"

"Keep out of this, alien," hissed the sword-wielder. "It doesn't pay to mess with Sean Mulvahill!"

"Sean Mulvahill?" repeated Marshmallow. "An Irish lizard?"

"I'm unarmed!" cried the general.

"Of course," said Mulvahill logically. "After all, ifthis mutiny is to have any real chance of success, it makes a lot more sense to do it when you're unarmed."

"Help me!" cried the general. "We Pierces must stick together!"

"He'll kill me if I try to help you," Pierce explained patiently.

"He'll kill you anyway!" shot back the general. "Help me and I promise to set you free!"

"How about you?" Pierce asked Mulvahill. "Where do you stand?"

"I'll have to think about it," replied the Irish lizard, advancing meaningfully toward the general.

"Will you release the girl, too?" Pierce asked the general.

"Yes!"

"Then I guess I'll have to help you." Pierce paused. "What do I do now?"

"Get on the other side of him," said the general. "He can't point that sword at both of us at once."

Pierce did as he was instructed.

"Okay," grated the general. "Now, when I give the word, you go for his sword arm and I'll hit his legs."

"Just a minute," protested Pierce. "You go for his sword arm and I'll go for his legs."

"It was my idea!" snapped the general. "You go for the sword arm."

"You may have said it first," replied Pierce, "but I was thinking of it first. In fact, I was just about to say it, but I thought I'd be polite and let you speak first." He stared at the general. "You go for his sword arm."

"You're closer to it," responded the general.

"But he's facing me now," said Pierce. "You do it while his back is turned."

"A telling point," said Marshmallow from the side lines. "General, you really do have the advantage, what with his back being turned and all."

The general seemed to consider this for a moment.

"Sean, old friend," he said at last, "would you honor a dying man's last request and face this way for just a moment or two?"

Mulvahill obliged him, nicking his chin with the point of his sword.

"I said face, not stab, you numbskull!" shrieked the general. "G.o.ddammit, Mulvahill, you never could follow a simple order!"

Pierce, with a sigh of defeat, decided that he dreaded further conversation even more than physical annihilation, and hurled himself onto the alien. The lizard staggered but didn't fall, and Pierce suddenly found himself clinging desperately to Mulvahill's sword arm just below the elbow.

"Come on, General!" he bellowed. "Give me a hand!"

The general stepped back and applauded.

"Son of a b.i.t.c.h!" muttered Marshmallow, drawing her pistol. "It's getting to the point that if'n a girl wants her virtue protected, she's gotta do it herself."

With that she fired off three quick shots. The first one buried itself in Mulvahill's heart; the second and third hit the first one.

"You mean you could have done that anytime you wanted?" said Pierce, crawling out from under the dead alien's body.

She nodded. "Nothing to it. Just point and squeeze."

"That's the most barbaric weapon I've ever seen," said the general. "May I borrow it?"

"Just what kinda fool do you take me for?" demanded Marshmallow, turning slightly and pointing the weapon at the alien Pierce. "I've been standing here listening to you brag about how you're gonna conquer the universe and defeat my father, which are pretty much one and the samething. What makes you think I'd hand my gun over to you?"

"Well, yes, to be sure," said the general hastily. "But, after all, conquering the universe is destiny. This is just curiosity. May I?"

He extended a hand and took a tentative step in her direction. She pulled the trigger and the alien hit the deck until the bullet had stopped ricocheting.

"Keep your distance!" she warned him.

"Pierce, I put it to you," said the general. "Was that a civil thing to do to a guest?"

"Guest?" repeated Pierce dryly. "I thought you were a conqueror."

"First one, then the other," replied the general, getting shakily to his feet. "Right now I'm a guest."

"Are you guys gonna get together and figure out how to get control of the s.h.i.+p back?"

demanded Marshmallow. "Or am I gonna have to start slinging lead around again?"

"Do all your females have tempers like that?" asked the general, not without a touch of admiration. "What a formidable soldier she'd make if only she could accept discipline." He shrugged. "Ah, well, wait'll she's laid ten thousand eggs or so; it tends to calm them down."

"That's disgusting!" snapped Marshmallow.