Strange New Worlds VI, page 7
Scotty smiled. Time for a little teasing. “Och! Ya don’t wanna be startin’ this thing up, Krissy. There’s parts of the reindeer scattered all over the fake snow! You activate the power and this whole thing might just blow!”
Krissy squealed in fear and started to jump out of the sleigh seat. Arlyne panicked. “Krissy!”
But Scotty got there in time and helped her down. He was always there for his sister. Arlyne quickly walked over to the two of them. “Are the two o’ya finished now? Yer little shenanigans all done?”
The two silently nodded in unison, a little frightened of the consequences. Arlyne stared down at them for a few more seconds and then couldn’t help but break into a smile and laughter. The three Scotts all laughed and hugged. “Let’s go, then. Yer father will be wonderin’ what happened to us. Monty, take some o’ these packages, please.”
As Scotty took a bag of the brightly wrapped gifts, he felt a strange twinge in his stomach. “Ooh.”
Arlyne didn’t notice, but Krissy did. “Scotty, what’s the matter?”
Now Arlyne noticed. “Monty, are you all right?”
Scotty put down the bag of gifts and managed a nod. “I think I ate a wee bit too much at supper. It’ll pass soon enough.”
“Are you sure about that, young man?”
The three Scotts looked over at the stranger with the kind face. He was smiling warmly. Not the least bit threatening. Not tall, not short. But with the kindest blue eyes Scotty had ever seen. And he spoke with traces of an accent that was American of some kind.
“Excuse me, ma’am. My name’s David. Doctor David—”
Scotty didn’t really hear the man’s name. He was distracted by odd things happening internally. But he certainly caught that he was a doctor. Arlyne shook hands with the friendly physician. “Arlyne Scott. My children, Montgomery and Kristen.”
David smiled again. It was a very reassuring smile and the children immediately took to him. “Let’s see if we can figure this out together. So, Montgomery, what did you have for dinner tonight?”
Scotty looked up to his mother, who nodded.
He thought for a bit. “Nothin’ new, really. Meat pie, vegetables, milk—”
David looked at Arlyne. “Well, that doesn’t seem to be anything unusual, at least in Scotland.”
“And Hammer Grunt Salad!” blurted Krissy. “You had a ton of Aunt Ingrid’s Hammer Grunt Salad!”
The doctor looked a little confused. “I’m afraid I’ve never heard of that. Is it a Scottish dish?”
Arlyne was laughing. “She means Hummer og Grøntsagssalat. It’s a Danish salad with lobster and vegetables. My sister makes it every year for us.”
Scotty rubbed his stomach. “Och, every year. This is the first year I was brave enough to try it. At first, it dinna go down too well. But the more I ate, the more I kinda liked it.”
“Yecch,” Krissy countered.
“We may be on to something here.” The doctor turned to Arlyne. “Is there anything unusual in the salad? Something Montgomery may never have eaten before.”
“Not really. Carrots, beans, peas, celery, and—oh, dear.”
The other three spoke in unison. “What.”
Arlyne stroked Scotty’s hair. “I’m sorry, son. There are radishes in that salad. I know what they do to yer father. Guess you got that from him, too.”
Krissy tugged on the doctor’s long coat. “Father never has the Hammer Grunt Salad.”
Arlyne looked at David. “Sometimes Scottish and Danish cuisine just don’t go together.”
Krissy continued to offer her professional diagnosis. “And then while Ma was shopping, Scotty rode the reindeer!” She ran back to the colorful but still motionless robotic display and stopped next to a large, somewhat aqua-colored reindeer. “This one’s Comet. And Scotty rode him. Five times!”
Arlyne was a bit surprised. “I told you once, Monty.”
David smiled. “Well, I think that probably solves our little mystery. Just an unfortunate combination of radishes and reindeer. Very good, Kristen. Monty, just take it easy the rest of the night and you’ll be fine by Christmas Eve. Mrs. Scott, just some good old-fashioned bicarbonate should do the trick.”
Arlyne smiled that smile and extended her hand. “Thank you, Doctor. Would you care to join my husband and me for some holiday spirits?”
Scotty moaned at the thought of eating or drinking anything else.
The doctor smiled back. “Oh, no thank you, Mrs. Scott. Gotta round up my son and head back to Georgia.”
Krissy walked right up to David. “Is that yer wife?”
The doctor chuckled. “No, Kristen, Georgia is where I live. Over in America. Now, where’d I put my son?”
At that moment, a thin, lanky boy came running through the reindeer, almost knocking Scotty over, despite the fact he was at least a head shorter.
“Oops! Sorry! Here I am, sir!”
The doctor gently herded his son closer so he wouldn’t damage anyone else. Scotty looked over at his sister, who was mesmerized by this clumsy kid.
“Son, this is the Scott family. Mrs. Scott . . .”
The boy nodded politely and offered his hand. “How do you do, ma’am?”
“And Kristen, who’s about the same age as you are.”
Again, the lad offered his hand, but Krissy was too transfixed to respond physically. She just kept smiling and sighed, “Hi.”
Scotty shot a look to heaven. He’d never seen his sister acting so stupidly. “What’s the matter with ya, girl? Ya look like my stomach feels!”
David chuckled. “And this is Monty.”
The lad smiled and nodded. Scotty noticed the boy had his father’s striking blue eyes. “Hiya, Monty. Nice to meet ya. I’m Leonard.”
The two boys shook hands, and despite the fact that this kid just about mowed him down a minute earlier, Scotty felt himself also liking this five-year-old stranger. “You, too.”
Leonard looked a little longer at Scotty. “Say, you don’t look too good. You know, my father is a—”
“Bum radish.”
From the look on Leonard’s face, Scotty could see he needed to repeat himself. “I had a bum radish or two fer dinner. Nothin’ serious.”
“Well, I’m sure glad about that.”
Krissy finally managed to speak. Well, blurt, actually. “And then he rode Comet. Five times!”
Leonard grinned at Scotty. The grin was something reminiscent of the Cheshire Cat in Alice in Wonderland. Mischievous, but probably harmless. “Gee, I’m amazed you can still stand after that.”
“Nice call, son.” David looked at Arlyne. “I’ve always said that Leonard would make an excellent doctor.”
Arlyne bent down and spoke to Leonard. “Are ya goin’ to be a doctor, like yer father?”
Leonard shook his head. “No ma’am. I’d like to be something else. Like a bricklayer or a mechanic or a psychiatrist—or maybe even a moon shuttle conductor.”
Arlyne laughed. “My goodness! You’re very ambitious, aren’t ya?”
“I’m afraid it changes from week to week.” David put his arm around his son’s shoulder. “Let’s get going, son. Your mom’s waiting back home. And if we’re late for Christmas, we’ll never hear the end of it.”
Leonard nodded. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Scott.”
“And you, too. Have a very merry Christmas, Leonard.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Scott. See you, Kristen.”
The girl just giggled and nodded. Scotty shook his head.
“And Monty, I hope you feel better.”
Leonard extended his hand again, and Scotty warmly shook it. “Uh, thanks. And a merry Christmas to ya both. And thank you, Doctor.”
David nodded and he and Leonard disappeared into the holiday crowd. Arlyne noticed her children watching them leave. “They seem like a very nice family.”
Scotty nodded and spoke aloud to himself. “Aye.”
“Well, let’s grab the bags and go. Krissy, help yer brother a bit, please.”
At that moment, the power to the sleigh ride returned. The holiday music resumed, strings of colored lights came back to life, Santa started moving and the reindeer started lumbering up and down as if they were pulling the sleigh through the air. Scotty looked at the sight.
“He’d go a fair amount faster if he’d use dilithium.”
Arlyne shook her head. “Let’s go, now.”
The Scotts began to head for home. Scotty continued.
“And think of the food he’d save if he dinna have to feed the reindeer. He could cover the whole solar system in half the time. Maybe put some warp nacelles on either side of the sleigh. Now that would definitely speed things up. Mother, I’m gettin’ a little hungry again. Ya think we have any more of Aunt Ingrid’s salad left? Now, as for the antigravity problem Santa might have in space . . .”
Scotty’s voice faded into the sound of the crowd and the music. But he kept talking.
All the way home.
A Piece of the Pie
G. Wood
To: James T. Kirk
Captain
U.S.S. Enterprise
We have received a communication from Sigma Iotia II. It was received on a minor channel and not sent with the proper closing protocols. The clerk brought it to my attention, and even after reading your old report on the planet, I still don’t know what to make of it. I realize the Iotians had imitated gangsters, but these new things verge on unbelievable.
I’m sure I don’t have to advise you on Starfleet policy in this situation.
Please advise us if you need assistance in this matter.
* * *
From: Mendez
Commodore
Starbase 11, Attachment Included
Personal Addendum: Jim, the brass are split between thinking of this as a scandal and thinking it’s funny. I recommend you dispose of the matter quickly.
M.
* * *
Attachment Details:
To: James T. Kirk
Captain
U.S.S. Enterprise
From: Bela Oxmyx
President—Iotian Union
Kirk, old chum! Guess who this is.
It’s your old pal, Bela. Bet you never thought you’d hear from me again.
We’re on the same side now. I went legit and my percentage has never been higher. What a racket this is!
Wish I could take credit for it, but this is all because of you. You sent the Federation advisors who suggested that it would be to our advantage to move toward a different form of government. They gave us a bundle of choices. Jojo Krako’s people wanted communism, but my people held out for democracy. We voted, and democracy won with sixty percent of the vote.
In our first elections, I beat Krako by a small margin (and I didn’t even have to use fake votes from the graveyard squad).
My second and third terms were landslides. I found the perfect platform. “Ladies and gents! Pay your taxes on time, and my government will do nothing to get in your way!”
Krako couldn’t compete with that. All he could do was tell the people the things he would do. They didn’t want us to do much of anything, so I won big.
Governing was a breeze, especially since you Feds lowered your piece of the action to ten percent. My Revenue Service got a twenty-five share and the local mobs . . .er, city councils got five. The people kept the other sixty slices.
I fixed some roads, built some hospitals and orphanages, and kept the water and heat cheap.
It worked well. I didn’t even have to put the bag on anybody.
However, I can’t run for a fourth term. Krako’s crowing about that, let me tell you. I came up with an idea, though.
If you were to move here (I had you made an honorary citizen), then you could make a run at the presidency next year. You wouldn’t even have to know the issues, because after you get my endorsement, my people will know you’re okay. It’ll be a wipeout.
Best of all, that snake, Krako, won’t see it coming.
Jimmy, you wouldn’t believe the progress we’ve made here. Once we got the hang of this democracy, it was a piece of cake.
Also, since we’ve got television, it’s really changed things. Now, we have to look good all the time. I don’t have a problem, but you oughta see Krako’s hairpiece.
Kirk, you remember Tepo? He realized he couldn’t compete in politics, so he got out and now he’s got his own TV show, newspaper column on horse racing, and a book called Greatest Mob Hits. I’m featured in three chapters alone.
Speaking of books, I have five publishers just itching to get their hands on my life story. My sales will blow Tepo’s off the map.
Life is good here in our new capital, Oxmyx City. I named a couple buildings and a bridge after you. Zabo, Krako’s former lieutenant, decided to play ball with me and now our money is called Zabos, after our head honcho at the Treasury Department. Even my top guy, Kalo, has something named after him—a racetrack.
Poor Krako only has a waste treatment plant named after him.
Well, that’s what happens when you lose the election.
Hope I haven’t bored you with talk of old times, but now to the point.
The Iotian Gratitude Committee would like to formally thank you for all your help with our current boom. In addition, we have authorized a grant of four hundred and fifty thousand Zabos to you for past and future assistance. (We can’t give you a percentage cut, Kirk. It ain’t legal no more, but these grants are. I’m told all governments do them.)
You can spend it however you want, but a nice thank-you card to the committee would be a good idea. Keeps it aboveboard.
Also, we hope to benefit from any future help you might give us with your Fed friends.
Gotta send this off, now. I have a meeting with Vice President Kalo in ten minutes.
Get back to us about the presidency and the money, Kirk. If you want to pick it up in person, I’ll have a nice reception committee waiting for you.
BELA
P.S. Kalo wants to know if you could send him the instructions to that fizzbin game. You were teaching it to him just before you clobbered him. He says the game looked pretty hard, and he wants to give it another try. If the game is good, maybe we could put it out on the open market. You know, sell special fizzbin cards and everything.
Remember, always keep your eye out for a way to make another sawbuck or two.
B.
* * *
To: IOTIAN GRATITUDE COMITTEE
From: James T. Kirk
U.S.S. Enterprise
I regret I am unable to receive the money personally, but I wish to thank the Gratitude Committee and would like the money turned over to various charities as per the Fed-Oxmyx Accord of several years ago.
Thank you once again.
James T. Kirk
* * *
To: Bela Oxmyx
President, Sigma Iotia II
From: Kirk
Enterprise
Bela, old buddy!
I was just telling Spock-o the other day that people never keep in touch. I was beginning to think you had wound up in cement overshoes gabbin’ with the fish.
Glad to hear of your successes. Send me a copy of your book, if you get the chance. Don’t forget to sign it.
I can’t help you on your presidential problem. Sorry. My Fed bosses have tied my hands. They don’t want us involved in things like that. Besides, I got business of my own right now.
Occurs to me you only got two choices. You could promote one of your boys and have him run as “capable and experienced,” or you grab someone outside of your mob. You could bill them as “fresh blood.”
My gang’s history books say both ways can work.
Good luck. See ya in the obits.
Jimmy
* * *
Eleven months later . . .
To: James T. Kirk
U.S.S. Enterprise
From: Bela Oxmyx
President
Kirk, you’re a miracle worker! It was a landslide and all because of you.
I took your palaver and used it. My boys couldn’t be trusted or weren’t smart enough. That left outside help.
I came across that sharp kid that helped you. His moniker was Tony Lubocq, but we call him Tony the Talker.
Anyways, Talker and I hit it off. I knew I had found my pigeon. He won bigger than I did. He even palmed off some of Krako’s diehards.
What really sold the people was not even my endorsement. It was his slogan. “I am a crook, but after I get my piece of the pie, I’ll see you get yours.”
The saps ate it up, but he’s actually serious. Iotia’s in good hands.
Krako took it hard. His backers are up in arms and I have heard chatter that somebody’s bound to put the bag on him before too much longer.
Me, I’m getting out while I’m still the bigshot. I never thought much about retirement. Folks like me usually get filled full of lead. Still, I got a tidy nest egg and a villa down south. It should be fun for a while.
If you’re in the neighborhood five weeks from today, stop in. It’s Talker’s inauguration and I think he’d like to see you. Me, too. There’s half a dozen receptions going on and we’ll even throw one for you, if you let us know you’re coming.
Bela Oxmyx
Gentleman of Leisure
P.S. Kalo still wants those fizzbin rules. His retirement fund is kinda low and he wants to add to it. Make sure he cuts you in on the dough. He’s already sold the idea. Tell him you won’t settle for less than fifty-fifty. You’ll get it.
B.
[SECOND PRIZE]
The Soft Room
Geoffrey Thorne
. . .and then he was sane again.
In itself sanity was generally not a cause for celebration. Most, quite rightly, took it for granted. In his own case, however, it felt like a miracle to be thinking again in straight lines. The sensation he’d experienced as the transition had actually occurred had been quite like what he supposed a light switch might feel when flipped.
