Life in the Slow Lane
Part 1
Cypher Pax and Jaws laid down heavy suppressive fire at the entrance to the town garrison. Killa Koala and Wild Wombat stole vehicles from the motor pool whilst Quack and Hurley tried to persuade the townsfolk to rise up in a vicious uprising.
Cypher and Jaws retreated. The Euros were in for a long night of hit and run guerilla tactics. Soon the Euros called in reinforcements from the Starbase. Now, the Special Forces could handle 12-1 odds, but not 20-1 odds – particularly once Cypher and Jaws’ mini-guns ran out of ammo as Gerakken predicted they would.
The cornered animals were desperate. They might escape out of town in a troop truck, but one of them would have to stay behind. Cypher Pax volunteered as he still had ammo in his bandolier. The remaining Special Forces shed a tear as they sped off. They could hear Cypher Pax going down in a blaze of glory.
Part 2
In the dark, Killa bounced off the truck. His head hit a rock and….
With a groan Killa gained consciousness, slowly. He put a paw to his numb and aching head. He looked at his bloody paw in dismay, and wondered how long he had been lying by the track. The ground shook suddenly and some minutes later a wave of compressed air washed over the countryside. Then another, stranger wave washed over Killa. He felt dislocation and a wrenching in his gut. Lights played across his eyeballs, his arms tingled and it was if a thousand people were talking at once. Followed by silence.
Killa shook his head in dismay at the weird sensations. The mass drivers of Navarone had just been taken out. Killa sighed with pleasure…the mission had succeeded! Now to get home.
Part 3
After many adventures, Killa arrived back at the Special Forces planet that yet remained unnamed. He docked the CariElf and walked proudly to the Special Forces pub. Only…it was a café. He frowned. He hadn’t been gone that long. Inside was warm lighting: where the bar had been were bookshelves; classical music serenaded the room; the Forces were sitting around coffee tables quietly chatting.
“Guys, er, people. I’m back!”
Killa was warmly greeted and quickly gave a debriefing. “So after I swapped recipes with the space pirates I headed straight for here. I assume that everyone-else made it back earlier and the Euros are once again where they should be. How much did we make on the mission?”
Wild nodded. “Correct, we all made it back. However Killa, you’ve forfeited your share of the loot. Article 125.4(x) clearly provides that a participant in a mission as defined in article 99 who is not less than two weeks returning to the first point of embarkation loses ten percent of his or her share per diem each and every day thereafter until their share which would have accrued according to Part D of the articles is exhausted. Let me think, sub-articles one to twenty don’t apply to you, do they Cypher?”
Cypher looked thoughtful. “Sub-article fifteen concerns unavoidable delays. However I would suggest that even though Killa was held captive by the space pirates, once he began swapping recipes, the nature of his detention changed to that of guest and this interpretation is further supported by the koala’s subsequent release and parting bunch of flowers”.
“Indeed” said Hurley. “Guest is defined in regulation 1.03 as a ‘Person entertained at another’s house or table; person lodging at hotel; animal or vegetable parasite’. Clearly Killa became just such a parasite and hence by meeting the definition of guest in regulation 1.03, went on to satisfy the exclusion paragraph and so cannot satisfy sub-article fifteen or indeed sub-article sixteen”.
“Forgot about sub-article sixteen.”
Killa gazed at the Forces. They were all solemnly nodding. "Guys, what gives? You sound like Euros now…”
Wild looked concerned. “Killa, the Euros hate rules and regulations: they're cowboys! Anyway, you know the rules better than any of us. Why are you acting so strangely?”
Jaws took Killa’s elbow, gently. “Come on mate. It’s Friday night. Have a nice cup of tea and you’ll feel better”. He led Killa to a couch. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about my latest project: my book which I’ve called ‘Zen and the Many Uses of Herbal Infusions’. After the success of ‘Vegetarian Food for the Carnivore’ I’m quietly excited at the prospects of cracking the G.R.O.S.S. market”.
Killa eyed Jaws in amazement. “Vegetarian food…Zen…the pirates?”
“Well the Fellowship is hardly going to buy my literary works are they? They’re the biggest market and all they’ll read are gothic horror!”
Quack nodded whilst lighting his incense burner. "I've just finished your 'Origami for the Officeworker'. Been making the cutest, little humans for my desk."
Harel wandered over. “Chaps! I’m just about to go butterfly catching with Samurai Ben. We were wondering if the poetry reading is still on at 5 AM tomorrow morning”.
“Of course. Ginata is doing a reading of Harel’s opus ‘When Diplomats Whisper Then Guns Become Plows’”.
“Inspirational that. I try and read a bit of it every night to inspire me at work”.
“How is the Hairdressing Salon going?”
Samurai Ben pursd his lips. “Excellent. We still do the ten dollar clipper cut. And streaks and extensions are coming back in, if you’re interested Hurley”.
Jaws stood up. “Well I’m for bed…way past my bedtime”.
“Me too", murmured Quack, yawning. "I think I’m going to lay off the lemonade for a bit. It’s giving me indigestion”.
“Yea, I’ve found that too. Pepsi is better, although Mrs Wombat’s hot chocolate settles the tummy”.
The Forces quickly left the café and headed for bed. Killa stared in amazement and looked at his watch. It was nine o’clock. Things had changed.
Killa was thoughtful. And clearly, the changes were for the better. Finally, he felt at home. A cultured and peaceful oasis of sensible, mature beings. Pillars of Society. Who could ask for anything more?
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