A Stitch in Time (3/55)
Chapter 3
"Where is he?!" the Grand Councilwoman roared, storming into the command center of the Galactic Federation fleet.
A fearful-looking technician swiveled around in his chair. "He's still in hyperspace."
"Where will he exit?"
"Calculating now," began an even-more tiny creature, furiously working the buttons on her console. "Quadrant seventeen... section zero-zero-five... area fifty-one. A planet called... Ee-arth."
It sounded familiar enough, but the Grand Councilwoman couldn't be certain. "I want an expert on this planet in here now!" She pointed to a large swath of blue covering most of the planet. "What is that?"
"Water," replied a third technician. "Most of the planet is covered in it."
"He won't survive in water. His molecular density is too great," she smirked. But of course the little icon representing the stolen red police cruiser-why did it have to be the red one?-wasn't heading for the water, it was aimed right for the central part of one of the northern continents. "No..."
Sure enough, the little blip stopped, beeping softly atop the brilliant green that represented that planet's doomed landmass. "Of course. How much time do we have?"
"We have projected his landing at three hours, forty-two minutes," replied the tiny pink tech.
That, thankfully, was more than enough time to get a proper facial, which would do wonders to improve her mood. "Oh, we have to gas the planet," the Grand Councilwoman sighed.
A high-pitched, scratchy voice that reminded her of her elderly great-aunt called out, "Hold it! Hold everything!"
Annoyed, the Grand Councilwoman turned around to confront a one-eyed representative of the Diplomacy, Understanding, and Mediation Bureau. The D.U.M.B. agent was carrying a brightly-colored object and several parchment scrolls.
"Earth is a protected wildlife preserve," he declared smugly. "Yeah. We've been using it to rebuild the mosquito population which, need I remind you, is an endangered species!"
Well, now the Grand Councilwoman remembered that planet. "Am I to assume you are the expert?"
"Oh, I don't know about 'expert'..." he chuckled, earning himself a "get on with it" glare from the UGF's leader. "Agent Pleakley at your service."
"Can we not simply destroy the surrounding area?" she suggested. Explosions were a great stress-reliever, and she had plenty of stress to relieve.
"No! Crazyhead? The mosquito's food of choice-primitive humanoid life forms-have colonies all over that planet."
"Are they intelligent?"
"No, but they're very delicate. In fact, every time an asteroid strikes their planet, they have to begin life all over." The brightly-colored object he carried was then raised to his eye, and he began excitedly clicking the button on the top, yammering about the device's purpose.
The Grand Councilwoman sighed. She meant the mosquito population, not the primitive humanoids. "What if our military forces just landed there?"
"Well, that'd be a bad idea!" he protested. "These are extremely simple creatures, Miss. Landing there would create mass mayhem and planet-wide panic!"
Resisting the urge to grind her teeth, she snapped back, "A quiet capture would require an understanding of Six-Two-Six that we do not possess! Who, then, Mr. Pleakley, would you send for his extraction?"
"Does he have a brother?" Pleakley hedged nervously.
Previous
Next