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Issue 39 |
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PB&J (A Tale of Conquest)Marshall PayneScience Fiction
Lance Freeman was listening to his boss rant when an odd, tingling sensation began to overtake him. Lance had just made some casual comment about how his way, though not necessarily the only way, was perhaps the preferred method of behaving in a certain social situation. It wasn't even work related, dealing with a matter of protocol when meeting the in-laws for the first time. But Jerry Stevens, his soon-to-be-remarried supervisor, would hear none of it.
 The Interbalie Galoo downfolded out of jumpspace into the nine planet system with its lone, grubby little sun. Jaraveey Alatrau knew his assignment well. It had been 62 billion heartbeats since Danahar’s essence had been broadcast from the motherworld, and he should have had plenty of time to accomplish his mission by now. But with Danahar one could never tell. Jaraveey had never been overly supportive of his fourth clutch cousin thrice removed being admitted to the Expansions and Conquest Corps. Frankly, Danahar, though highly motivated at times, was rather unpredictable. Not that he couldn’t complete an assignment, but he had a tendency to let some oddball notion override the mission parameters and carry him off on some wild tangent. Yes, the assignment would be carried out, but most likely with highly unexpected results. After sheathing himself in this business known as humanity, Jaraveey bulbshipped down to the planet's surface. Sensors had given him some clue as to how his worldman had warped this planet to his own whim, but physical inspection was required of course. It was a bizarre, unbalanced place now, he'd already determined, where the entire planet's resources had been dedicated to the cultivation of wheat, grapes, and a strange legume known as the peanut. But once on the surface he was dismayed further by what he found. The beings, these human beings, would have been peculiar enough with their large fleshy bodies and rotund heads, but they all seemed obsessed with their single dietary requirement: two slices of bread slathered with grape jelly and a paste made from this legume. They seemed to be content with this restrictive fare. Though closer inspection told him that possibly everything wasn’t so perfect in "paradise." "You have to eat your PB&J," a frustrated woman was telling her young offspring. "But I don’t wanna, Mommy," he said. "I'm sick of PB&J." "Shhh," she said, glancing around the open-air cafe nervously as the other diners were beginning to stare. Over by the cafe's entrance armed guards frowned their warning. Ah, dietary enforcers, Jaraveey surmised. He continued his stroll through the streets of Macon, Georgia, the capital city of this recently conquered world, determined to discover how severely his worldman had transmogrified its culture. After eleven thousand heartbeats, he’d seen enough. "Your mission was to infiltrate and secure this planet, Danahar," Jaraveey said upon gaining admission to the World Headquarters. It hadn't been very difficult. After a couple of choice references he'd insisted an underling convey to her boss, the doors to the executive office had swung wide open. "And that's exactly what I've done," Danahar said from behind his huge mahogany desk. Of course the anatomical manifestation that he had originally seized and occupied had long since expired. These creatures were seldom good for more than twenty-three billion heartbeats, and what with the unhealthy diet they had adopted, it was amazing they lived that long. Danahar, as Jaraveey soon found out, was working on his ninth such manifestation, preferring to “jump physique” while each was still in its prime. The current one went by the appellation of Overlord Casey. "But once you secured control your assignment was to escalate their technological advancement to provide them with stardrive capabilities. With weapons capabilities. And you've done none of these things. We can't win this war against the Xarvarians on our own. Your mission was to--" "Forget my mission," Danahar said with a dismissive wave. He then went to work on what Jaraveey could readily see had become his worldman's supreme objective. From a silver tray in front of him, Danahar took two slices of white bread, then lovingly spread copious amounts of grape jelly and this thick legume paste on them before pressing them together. He offered it to Jaraveey. "You look like you’re famished after such a long journey, clutch cousin. PB&J . . . ?" Jaraveey wanted to scream. This was all going in his report.
Dragons, Knights, & Angels ISSN 1558-9803
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