Balloon Boy and the Porcupine Pals: Antihooliganism by Mort Gloss

  ****

  Nabashio entered the communications center with his head held low. After stepping through the threshold, he turned to ensure the entrance was locked. Once confident nobody else could enter, he slowly walked to a metallic console and entered a passcode from memory. Immediately, the projected image of an empty room appeared on the wall opposite the console. Nabashio looked up in confusion.

  "Your Heaviness," he said, "is your presence manifest?" There was a long silence. Nabashio looked intently at the projected image of the room. "My Liege?" he ventured again.

  "I'm here," said a voice in response. "So I guess my 'presence is manifest.' Where do you get this garbage, Nabashio? You sound like an idiot."

  Nabashio's eyes shifted to the ground and he took a step back. "Your Heaviness, I was not aware the manner in which I verbalize is insufficient."

  "It's too sufficient," came the response. "But go ahead and keep 'verbalizing' like you always have. It makes me laugh."

  "Of course, my Commander. I understand you requested my attention?" asked Nabashio, wanting to get to the point. "However," he added, "I cannot visualize Your Grace."

  "Don't worry about visualizing my grace," answered the voice. "I'm eating, and I don't have projection at my table."

  Nabashio's right eyebrow rose upon hearing the explanation. Because he spent more than half his day feeding, it was necessary to have communications linked to his food station.

  The voice continued: "I want to talk to you about your disgraceful performance from earlier today." He paused for effect. "Yeah, you really screwed that one up, eh Nabashy?"

  "My Commander, I was somewhat taken aback by the technological advances present on the hooligan vessel. Indeed, I believed it to be constructed by those of the skinniest of mind, and was surprised to learn otherwise."

  "And when was it you 'learned otherwise?'" came the response. "You know nothing about these petty hooligans. They probably are skinny-minded morons; otherwise they would have your job, since they are clearly better at helming a spacecraft than you."

  "PROT IX has always satisfactorily fulfilled its mission, has in not, Your Grace?"

  "You've never had to do anything until now, and yeah, you blew that one. So, I guess my final answer is no."

  Nabashio thought he heard laughter on the other side of the transmission. Beads of sweat formed on his wide forehead; his eyes continued to study the floor. "Your Heaviness, what would you have me do to improve my performance?"

  "That's a great question, Nabashy." There was silence for a few moments. "Alright, I've got it. First, after PROT IX is repaired, you will travel to the agricultural sector and intercept the petty hooligans that made a fool out of you this morning. Reports indicate they have marooned on a third class planet of the lowest order. You should not, and I mean should not, have any problems locating and detaining them."

  "It shall be done, Your Grace."

  "Don't interrupt me. I wasn't finished. Now when you get there, don't kill these guys. We want to study the technology on this tiny barge of theirs and ask them a few questions. Just detain them on PROT IX and secure their spacecraft."

  Nabashio waited to ensure the instruction was finished, and then meekly responded. "It shall be done."

  "Yes, it shall be. But I'm not finished. Second, I want you to promote that Second Class Protector who was near the Center Seat earlier. I saw the bridge recording; she's twice the Captain you are, if not more so."

  "Do you refer to Lilia, the lowly Second Class Protector?"

  "Yeah, that's what I said: the Second Class Protector who was on the bridge. If she hadn't kept her wits, PROT IX might have been destroyed."

  "How can she be promoted, sir, when she has not attained the necessary size and training?"

  "Put her on a feeding program; give her a book to read. I don't care; just make it happen, Nabashy."

  Nabashio rubbed his hands together tightly, trying to suppress his anger. "It will be done, my Commander," he said, somewhat between clenched teeth.

  "Yes," came the response, "it will be."

  "Thank you, my Lord; I will take my leave then?" Nabashio began shuffling to the console to close down the communication link.

  "Not yet. There's one more thing." The man on the other end of the transmission again paused for effect. "During the course of this conversation, I have been extremely disappointed by your inability to efficiently and properly verbalize. I therefore command you to spend 20 percent of your off-duty time, over the course of the next 10 rotations, studying linguistic proprieties. If your performance doesn't improve by our next communication, you will...." There was another pause. ".... be rewarded accordingly."

  Nabashio again heard laughter emanating from the other side of the transmission. "The order will be observed, Your Largeness." He bit his lip, forcing himself to remain quiet.

  "Alright, Nabashy. I'm done with you. We'll send over the coordinates we recovered on the petty hooligans. Go get them; don't kill them; don't screw it up this time. The end."

  The transmission suddenly cut out, a harsh, high-pitched sound accompanying the disconnect.