Dreams
Dropbear was a dreamer. Not a dreamer of petty dreams such as dreams of wealth acquisition and being really nasty to people. But a dreamer of castles, and Princes and dragons and those are the best dreams of all.
But Dropbear can also be crazy and evil and shy and jealous and do horrible things. In other words he is a bit like pretty much everyone.
This tale is unusual because I can tell you the ending: Dropbear tried to repent of these evil ways. He wanted to stop being an evil, dreaming anti-hero. He wanted to do some good. But why did Dropbear want to be selfless and good? That needs some explanation.
The Freedom Force Pub
Dropbear was a Commander of the Freedom Force. He had fought missions and done his best, although his best was not always good enough. He loved his country and his mates, and he liked his new found adorableness. But he wanted more.
He wanted to be a ruthless irascible pirate like Pontius, or a conniving and handsome Spymaster like Gerakken, or a super-organised and respected Supreme Leader like Ray the Wanderer, or the President of the CariElf Fanclub like MM77, or a loveable and wise wombat like Wild Wombat. But he was none of those things, and never would be.
In other words, Dropbear was feeling a bit down and a bit jealous, and maybe a bit unloved. To stifle a sob he took a swig of a rather nice Kiwi pinot and looked around the bar. His current mates were here: a small group, loyal and true. The nightly chess game had ended with Bakka beating Ajm37 again.
Dropbear knew that he and Hurls would drink each other under the table before this night was through: he had found a good Shiraz, which Hurls would appreciate. But Dropbear also had another agenda for this night: he wanted to unburden his soul. And who else to do that with, than one’s mates?
As well, he had an ending to make: and a new beginning too.
Earlier
Dropbear’s Private Hell
Dropbear dropped the message crystal in disbelief. The moving image winked out. Yet, he picked the message crystal up again, and this time, replayed it, time and again. Afterwards, he had some thinking to do. With a heavy heart, he entered his battleaxe, the CariElf, and took her into space.
An Evil Pirate
Dropbear was evil and loved nothing better than to bribe and wheel and deal.
He measured the pirate with his eyes. The pirate could be suborned: Dropbear could see that in an instant. The question was at what cost? And with how much effort?
The gold, reflected in the pirate’s eyes, was a sparkle that held no lustre. But the pirate could not see that. “Arr. Gold. Bright and yellow, hard and cold. Heavy to get and light to hold.” The pirate squinted at Dropbear. “What must ah do, evil one, for the prize ya offer me?” Dropbear gazed back, with a forlorn look: “The price is high. But not so high that one such as you would not pay the price. Betrayal, spying, murder and mayhem. And…especially information. A bargain at any price!”
The pirate nodded. “Oh yes, a small price to pay for gold in the hand”. The pirate spat in his other hand and offered it to the bear. “Let’s shake adorable little bear”.
Dr Quinn’s Consulting Rooms
Dr Quinn was misunderstood. Long had she practiced and with quite good results. True, she had often misdiagnosed Pontius, but he made her nervous. She could not diagnose under pressure.
She cackled wildly. “Ah raven what shall we do? Our small collection of animals has dwindled to naught. How shall we continue our experiments, eh?” She whacked the dissection table with her scalpel. Dr Quinn’s raven fluttered and squawked. Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore!”
“Why Raven, do you admonish me?” She laughed gaily. “Animals of the woods we need, or better yet, talking animals! Yes, large talking animals. Or dare I dream…a man. MUHAHAHAHA”. She laughed a little insanely and drew the scalpel across her palm, with tenderness and a little madly.
The raven looked at the red, red blood in the flickering candlelight.
CariElf’s Temple
He walked down the boulevard, the memories almost overpowering. The fights, the tragedies, the characters, the Pres! The Temple shone with such a light as he approached: a light of clarity and goodness.
How did I leave the path of goodness so quickly, wondered Dropbear. How easily evilness beckons and then sucks one dry. He had fought his monsters and lost and could never return to the fold of the Viscountess. Or perhaps he could. No man can truly know the course of time, he thought.
But not yet. The pirate had been a useful spy on the Ship of Doom. Dropbear now had verification of the claims that had been made in the message crystal. “The burden I bear is too great”, wailed Dropbear. “The knowledge that I have, I can no longer hold and stay sane. I must confess, if only to my mates”.
Dropbear took one last soulful look, and left the Skowbo swamps, forlornly.
From the shadows the Pres watched him leave: “You shall return Vice Pres” he murmured. “And she shall heal your soul. Goodbye for now adorable, little bear” he shouted into the dank, swamp air.
The CariElf swept up into the sky and departed the planet, sadly.
Jimmie and Peggy-Sue
Peggy-Sue nodded enthusiastically. “I love Star Trek, and especially Captain Janeway. The power, the command, the authority”. The inflection on the last word made the waiter wince and move quickly past the couple’s table.
Foolishly, Jimmie wasn’t listening: “Yes and science fiction…”
“Oh, Jimmie. I love SciFi, the goofy stories and…and…all…that stuff”.
Jimmie was in seventh heaven. He had finally, he had truly, found his soul mate.
The Ship of Doom: The Officers’ Mess
CypherPax was being led out again. Mrs Pax stood at the door of the Officers’ mess, waiting patiently. She clutched a rolled-up magazine. Pontius shuddered: he knew how much pain a rolled-up newspaper could do: let alone a Marie Claire!
“Ah mate”, he said, “How’s the eye?” CypherPax looked from his good eye, silently imploring. Silently he mouthed ‘save me’. Pontius shook his head somewhat sadly, the Paxes had not been married long, and Cypher still had some learning experiences to suffer.
Cypher slumped as the waiters led him towards his doom: “The festering has stopped” he muttered, just before the door closed.
Pontius shook the Pirate Times and settled down for a read. The plush armchair enveloped him. Gerakken sat down beside him, somewhat stiffly: “Pontius, where was that banging coming from…” Pontius shook his head again: “Ya don’t want to know”.
Some minutes later, Pontius gasped: “Would ya look at this Gerras!”, inclining his head towards an article that only he could see.
Gerakken looked up sharply. He had his reports to flick through and was tiring of Pontius’ constant references to popular culture. “Who’s done what to whom?” he asked, concisely.
Pontius was oblivious. “Why, huh, gee, that’s funny…” He petered out. Gerakken was wise to this strategy, but could not help himself. “What, what, WHAT?”
Pontius looked up puzzled. “Um, gosh Gerras…settle down”. Pontius read out the article, which was directed at pirates and so was short and in very simple English. They looked thoughtful. “So the mutants are in turmoil! How odd.”
Jimmie’s Wedding
Young Jimmie’s wedding was spectacular. From the badly dressed bridesmaids, to the photo session in the botanical gardens, every piece had been carefully planned and executed.
Jimmie was beaming. “Gosh Mr Pax, what can I say. It has been magical. We fit like a hand in a glove. Why, my Peggy-Sue may be much older than me, but she has been the best thing that has walked through my front door since sliced bread”. Cypher looked as if he was about to say something, but he felt a presence behind him. “Of course lad”.
Peggy-Sue showed her engagement ring to her friends, Mary-Lou and Janeese. “Yea, it’s nice. It’s unusual. It’s different” they said in unison.
Pontius was leering at the women from a safe distance. He quickly looked around for Mrs Pilot who had momentarily disappeared, before leaning towards Gerakken. “What foxy ladies they are!” Gerakken looked at Pontius quizzically, before he coughed.
Mrs Pilot came up and saw the direction of Pontius’ gaze. “Ponshie!” She studied Pontius’ face very carefully: “They are pretty things aren’t they?” Pontius looked utterly innocent: “Oh, um. Actually, I hadn’t noticed”.
Pontius had learnt that lesson early and well.
The Ship of Doom: The Spymaster’s Coterie
‘Judge a man by his questions rather than by his answers’, thought the Spymaster. ‘Hmmm. I wonder what that means?’
Gerakken looked around his coterie. Spies and weasels, undercover men, standover men, Yor droids and chambermaids. A motley collection to make him proud.
“What news, my friends?” Before they could answer, Gerakken coughed suddenly: his flu was getting much worse.
Dr Quinn and Gerakken
Gerakken could barely lift his weak head. The Elven flu had taken hold of him, firmly.
“Dr Quinn, do you have aspirin?” Dr Quinn looked at Gerakken disconcertingly. “Ah, neurophen then…?” Dr Quinn began to take her blouse off, button by button, all the time licking her lips. In, out, in, out: darted her long, sharp, red tongue.
Gerakken blanched with fear. “Dr Quinn, I am a happily married man, what of your morals?” Dr Quinn shrugged: “Once I had morals. Once I was young”. The last button was undone.
Gerakken squirmed and thrashed. “But what of your ethics as a doctor? What of your doctor’s registration?” The blouse came off: “Once I had ethics. Once I was registered”.
The too-handsome Spymaster began to sob. He knew he should have taken Pontius’ advice and seen Dr Spock instead.
Peggy-Sue
Peggy-Sue sobbed. “There, there” said Mary-Lou with a hidden grin.
Peggy-Sue could not be consoled: “Mary-Lou, it has all changed. Since we married, Jimmie has changed.” This revelation shocked even Mary-Lou.
“If I’d known that the flowers and the nights out every night were going to stop, I’d never have got married!”
Finally
The Freedom Force Pub
Dropbear began his tale slowly, as if he lacked courage to continue.
“Mates, the story I tell you is pitiful, but it is not your pity I seek. This night I shall unburden my soul: and in truth I seek your understanding. I have not been lucky in love and long have I wished for the joy of marriage. The pleasure of sharing hobbies; discussing science fiction books; playing computer games together; all of those things that married couples do”.
The gathered mates nodded solemnly: they too wished to see every single, happy man married.
“Now I am evil, you know that. But I am a little crazy too. Once I lived on Skowbo, and held a position of some repute in the Viscountess’ employ”. The gathered group stirred, for Dropbear rarely spoke of those halcyon days.
“Ah, the adulation, the poetry, the chocolate….and Gerakken. Always Veteran Gerakken”. Dropbear’s chill voice became icy. He stifled a sob. “That handsome, common pirate tormented me. Why, do you know he won every award for his prose? Every one! I quoted Wordsworth for sheep’s sake! Do you think they knew. Or cared?”
Several minutes later Dropbear pulled himself together with some effort. Wombie looked tormented at the strain that showed on Dropbear’s face, the tears matting his fur. He felt Dropbear’s pulse, but let him continue.
“Now a pretty enough lass once visited the Temple. Oh, she was a game one. What a horn bag”. He chuckled. “The times we had...the laughter, the drinking, the late nights cavorting…”
The gathered mates looked both repelled and fascinated.
“But it didn’t last, why, it never does, does it? She left and never returned. I never heard from her again. That is, until this week! The shock! Her message told me all that had happened those many years ago….I have verified what she said of course”
Dropbear straightened and looked ahead without emotion. “This is why I tell you I am leaving the Freedom Force, to join the Pirates”. The group gaped, numb.
“Yea, it is something I must do, to make amends. I was not there when she needed me. She has since married and does not want me now. But our son…”
“You have a son?” asked Wombie quietly.
Dropbear looked down, he could not meet Wombie’s sad, knowing eyes.
“Yes, Peggy-Sue had our son. He was born in the dark recesses of a cargo freighter. The freighter was raided soon after by pirates and our kid was kidnapped. She traced the ship, which did the deed: The Ship of Doom! This is now my destiny! To become a pirate and find my son: to give him the father he never had!”
The gathered mates began crying and hugging as one.
There had been an ending, but a good beginning as well, at least that was how Dropbear felt.
Postscript
Wombie packed his bags thoughtfully. Mates stick together he thought. Hurls came in, and the rest, carrying their bags. “There is one other thing that I didn’t understand last night, Wild Wombat” said Hurley with a frown. “What is Dropbear’s special power?”
Wombie grinned. “Haven’t ya worked it out yet? Why, it’s glamour. When he looks forlorn, ya have to adore him. What a nifty power to have!”
The soon-to-be pirates nodded, thoughtfully. Of course.
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