Remote Control
(D)

        Rachael smiled in spite of herself.  On the oversized screen a hot
pink vegetable hybrid, wearing three pairs of sunglasses in a vertical row
along its celery-like stalk, was pounding out a screaming riff on a
multi-stringed instrument.  The crowd in the foreground was going
absolutely nuts.  That, at least, was a familiar site.  She found herself
strangely comforted by it.
        It seemed like days now since she had been left here in this tiny
cubicle with only a couch and a wall-sized television screen as company.
They hadn't even left her her camera.  She wasn't sure if they had taken it
from her or she had lost it on the ship.  She hoped, for Flux's sake, that
it was the latter.
        At first she had done the human thing; ranting, fuming, pacing like
a caged animal and screaming for release until her voice had grown hoarse.
Her second impulse had been to find a chink in the fortress wall.  She had
searched every corner and probed every panel.  The couch she found to be
firmly attached to the wall.  The screen opposite, she found to be a wall
itself.  Swell, she couldn't even occupy herself by rearranging the
furniture.
        The search over, she had flopped down angrily onto the couch to
think of anything she might have missed.  The television screen flickered
hypnotically at her and her frown deepened.  Hard to think with the damn
thing blaring like that.  She had been mortified to learn that the screen
had no volume control and worse, no off switch.  A small rectangular
mechanism she had found velcroed to the arm of the couch during her search
had given her access to a variety of channels, but that was the extent of
her control.  She was truly a prisoner and this, she had decided, was to be
her torture.
        "They" were going to bombard her with sitcoms until she broke down
and talked.  She had resolved to remain silent no matter what.  Let them
turn her brain into oatmeal, they still wouldn't get her to spill her guts.

        It had bothered her somewhat that there wasn't a single thing she
could think of that would be of any use to her captors.  She wasn't even
sure just who "they" might be.  Still, she was no squealer.  And besides,
the logic went, so long as they thought she knew something, she would
remain valuable.  That would buy her some time until Albion could rescue
her.  She just had to stay patient.  He was her hero, right?  He had gotten
her into this mess, he wouldn't leave her here, alone, to face this
insidious torture.
        She would wait and maybe cry a little.  That always helped.
        'Albion,' she thought, 'you got me into this...  Please, please,
please, get me out...'

*                                       *
*

        Hours passed, but the screen continued to flicker, making the time
appear to pass quickly.  The vegetables continued to jam and Rachael's mind
tired to wander.  Where was Albion?  She tried to conjure an image of him,
but it seemed to blur and make her head start to pound.  It was probably
all this tele-vegetating.  She had never been a big fan of tube pablum.
Still, there was nothing better to do.  She would wait some more and brave
it out.

*                                       *
*

        Doubts.  So many doubts.  She had waited and in waiting, had grown
doubtful.  Would Albion come?  Would anyone come?  Did anybody even know
where she was?
        Come to think on it, did she really have anything to worry about?
        Was this really a prison?  And wasn't it silly to think of a
television screen as a form of torture?  Wouldn't it be more logical to
think that she had been put here to wait for something?
        What exactly it was that she was waiting for she wasn't sure, but
the television definitely made sense.  After all, if they were trying to
turn her into a tv idiot, wouldn't they have provided her with at least one
channel she could understand?  She thought of all the couch potatoes she
knew back home.  Would they stay rooted so devoutly in videotic rapture if
they didn't understand a single word that was being said on the screen?  Of
course not.  What a silly idea...
        It was entertainment, pure and simple.  To help her pass the
time...  While she waited for something to happen.  Something...
significant...

*                                       *
*

        Two pale orange creatures lay entwined in each others tentacles,
burbling and chirping to one another while a sound like hungry kittens
swelled in the background.  Rachael was repulsed.  Nothing new, really.
She had never much cared for soap operas.  Unfortunately, she had the same
sickness 98% of the human population had.  She called it 'mental
pause.'-the phenomenon which dictated that every time one of the
slush-filled dramas flickered into view, the poor wretch watching was
utterly ensnared in its spell while the brain took a vacation.
        College psychology suggested subliminals.  Made sense.  Why else
would otherwise intelligent human beings subject themselves to such drivel?
And not just 'human' beings either, it seemed.  Even space squids had
their vices, though just what those might be was eluding her at the moment.
        Hunger gnawed at her stomach and a feeling much like boredom began
to settle in.  She was getting restless.  Her eyes averted from the screen
for the first time in what had to be hours, she began casting about for
diversions.  How long had she been here anyway?  Wasn't she supposed to be
waiting for something?  Yeah, something like food...
        Her eyes fell on a tray set just inside the door.  Somebody had
brought her a tray and she hadn't even noticed.  And judging by the smell,
it was just what she had been wishing for.  How convenient.  She retrieved
the tray and in doing so absently noted that the door was completely
smooth.  No slot for the tray.  Interesting...  It meant something...  but
so did the food...
        At first glance, the tray held nothing recognizable.  A second look
told her that her first had been wrong.  She did recognize one lump of
brownish cottage cheese-like substance.  She had seen it on a commercial
earlier in the day.  She couldn't pronounce the name, but she remembered
that the tiny elf-like being who had been eating it had seemed thoroughly
enchanted by it.
        She took a bite.  Pasty.  Needed salt, but overall not too bad.
Settling back onto the couch, she began tasting the other lumps of sickly
colored glop.  Her eyes came again to rest on the magic screen.  A giant
mottled squid was waving its tentacles and burbling angrily at another,
smaller member of its species.  The smaller creature clutched an even
tinier version of itself to its... chest? ... and gurgled quietly.
        "Bitch!"  Rachael muttered around a mouthful of pea green sludge.
These programs were all the same.  Every 'soap' she had ever watched had at
least one bitchy matriarch to make the lives of all the younger characters
a total hell.  She sniffled and dabbed at her eyes with her napkin.
        Her hunger assuaged, she placed the tray onto the floor and settled
back to watch the drama unfold.

*                                       *
*

        Amoebas danced a weird ballet through a viscous fluid shot through
with colors, while a consonant filled voice boomed out like a metronome
keeping time.  She wasn't sure if she was watching a PBS special on the
mating habits of some strange life form or a modern dance segment aimed at
bohemian jellyfish.  She was fascinated none-the-less.
        The thought of escape no longer crossed her mind.  She had decided
at some point that the idea was no more relevant to her situation than the
dancing/mating amoebas were to world peace.  she was detained guest,
nothing more.  After all, her host hadn't said or done anything to make her
think otherwise.  If anything, he had been more than gracious, especially
considering the way he had been treated at the reception.
        She remembered the strange confrontation in a metal cave as though
through a dense, dreamlike fog...
        Two men facing one another.  Identical except for differences of
dress and bearing.  One, tall and dignified, dressed in unrelieved black,
waiting patiently, exuding an air of understanding and calm.  The other,
slumped and disheveled, battered and bruised, supported on either side by
helpful servants.  Drunk, she thought with disgust and his blonde companion
wasn't in much better condition.
        Still, they were being welcomed with open arms.  That welcome was
answered in what to Rachael was the most repulsive way possible.  The
drunken brother had responded by spitting in his gracious sibling's face.
        Anger welled up in her at the memory.  The man was a pig!  She
would have killed him on the spot.  It was all that scum like him deserved.
She expected it.  She hoped for it.  And was astounded by the grace with
which the affronted brother responded.  A moment of tense silence had
followed the display, in which all eyes in the dome were focused on the
expressionless man in black.  But then he had smiled and ordered his
servants to show his 'guests' to their quarters.
        They had all been shown to individual waiting rooms until proper
guest facilities could be arranged.  It was a very gracious host indeed,
Rachael thought to herself, who would accept into his home an obviously
undeserving drunken brother and his equally drunken companion.  Not to
mention herself, a complete stranger.  She would be sure to express her
gratitude when next she saw him.  Let him know that not all his guests were
ingrates.  Let him know just how pleased she was to be his guest.  Let him
know that anything she could do to repay his kindness would be done without
question.  Anything.

*                                       *
*

        (Pst.  Rachael.)
        She furrowed her brow and tried to concentrate on the screen.  It
seemed to be some sort of sport she was watching now, in which giant hairy
bipeds were flinging handball-sized squirming yellow slugs at a central
wall and measuring their success by the size of the spot the slug made when
it impacted.  One of the bipeds, a female judging by the two vertical rows
of breasts swinging heavily from her chest, was an obvious threat to the
champion.  the latter was pacing back and forth, making grunting noises in
her direction.  Chauvinist, Rachael thought.  The female had caused quite a
splash with her last throw.  The crowd was tense with expectation.
        (Pssst.  Hey, Rachael.  Anybody home?)
        She waved the distraction away.
        (C'mon, snap out of it woman!  I could get into a whole shitload of
trouble if I'm detected here.  Work with me...)
        "Hush!  I'm watching this!"
        The champion powerhoused his slug to the wall and the stadium fell
silent.  It was going to be close.  Judges hurried out to measure the slimy
mess.  A quick series of hand signals and the crowd went wild.  A new
champion was to be crowned.
        (Awright, lissen sister!  I've been bustin' my fuzzy behind all day
looking for you.  Not that I thought it was really necessary, but that
clown you came with insisted.  And I'll tell you something, if I didn't
need HIM to help me rescue Max, I wouldn't've done that much!)
        "Go away."
        (Go away.  Great.  I'll just go tell your boyfriend that you're
more interested in watching splatball then being rescued.)
        "Who are you?"  she asked irritably, blinking in the glow from the
screen.  "Where are you?"
        (I'm here stupid!)
        She turned, located the source of her irritation, screamed and flew
from the couch in a headlong dive.
        "Rats!  I hate rats!" she screamed, peering over the arm of the
couch at the small figure perched on the opposite arm.
        (I told you before, I am NOT a RAT! I AM A ROBEN!)
        "I hate Robens, then!"
        (Fine.  Suit yourself.  Albion will just have to...)
        "...Albion...?"
        The Roben cocked its head.  (Yeah, Albion.  You know, tall...
blond... memorable...  He's the one who brought you to this little block
party, remember?)
        "Albion?"  she whispered.
        (Made a big impression, huh?  Look lady, you've gotta snap out of
it.  I've risked my whiskers, not to mention my life, to find you...)
        "...Albion..."
        (Enough with the Albion already!  Are you going to work with me or
not?  And can't you turn that damned thing down?  It's giving me a
headache!)
        She blinked and raised her head over the arm of the couch.  "I tried."
        The Roben sighed.  (Great.  Just great.  It's a good thing you've
got looks, baby, 'cause you sure ain't much in the brain department.)
        "Thank you," she mumbled, her eyes riveted to the flickering
screen.  The Roben winced and held tiny claws over its ears.
        (Look, it's getting hard for me to concentrate.  I'd love to stay
and chat, but the idea of being trapped in here with such a brilliant
conversationalist kinda makes my fur crawl.  I'll just leave the message
Albion gave me and...
        Hello?  Is anybody home?  Have you heard a thing I've been saying?)
        She nodded numbly.
        (Good.  We're working on a plan to get us all out of here.  He says
not to worry...)
        "Who?"
        (Who do you... ALBION!!!)
        "Oh.  Right.  That's wonderful."  She slid back onto the couch,
entranced by a sea of stars and the spectacle of space ships engaged in
what looked like a demolition derby.
        (Yeah,) the Roben said sarcastically.  (Wonderful.  Nice to see
you're taking this all so well...)
        She never even noticed when the Roben left, or that he hadn't
bothered to use the door to do so.

*                                       *
*

        Rachael gasped.  She had been delighted when she'd found a
pseudo-news channel in which the primary language was English.  So much so
that her attention had been totally absorbed by it for hours, despite the
fact that every news story broadcast depicted the universe as a place of
utter tranquility and peace.  Not much by way of news, but nice.
        Then something entire unexpected had happened.  All at once, in the
middle of yet another barrage of commercials, her questions were answered.
        "Hello," the cultured voice said.  "Do you know me?"  She did!  She
recognized the immaculate black clad figure; the dark hair groomed into
soft waves, the peculiar, but attractive, cut to the beard and those eyes!
Blue as the sky and just as deep.  Of course she recognized him!  He was
all she thought about anymore, when she did think.  Which she wasn't doing
now, so absorbed by his voice that all brain waves were on hold.
        "I go by many titles.  As Chief of Intelligence, I am the eyes and
ears of his majesty, the Emperor.  As Secretary of War, I am his majesty's
iron fist.  And as Prelate of his church, I administer to the souls in his
service."  His mouth twisted into a smile which never quite reached his
eyes.  "On some less evolved planetary systems, I am even worshipped as a
god.
        "Yet, many people still do not recognize me... until it's too late.
That's why I carry the Nobility Express Travel Card.  It gets me into
places no ordinary mortal would ever dream of invading."  He lifted a
silver diskette up to be viewed.  "The Nobility Express Travel Card.  Don't
leave your planet without it."
        Across the bottom of the screen a name was printed electronically:
L*O*R*D  V*I*P*E*R  O*P*H*I*D*I*A*N.  Then the screen went blank and a
doe-eyed blond anchor man began spouting happy news once again.
        Rachael's mind coughed fitfully to life and she sighed.  "A
Lord..."  So deep in her reverie was she that she never even noticed when
the door slid open to admit two young women in silver collars and not much
else, carrying bundles of cloth and a tray of bottles and jars.  She smiled
warmly at them when they began to undress her and anoint her with perfumes
and oils, giggled when they dressed her again in a gown of opalescent pink
and paid little attention when the youngest of the two whispered a
spiritless prepared salutation.
        "The Lord Ophidian has granted you an audience.  He wishes you to
witness with him the execution of two criminals of the Empire.  He assures
you that it will be an event to remember."
        Rachael smiled dreamily and turned to watch as terraformers leveled
mud huts and an ancient temple to make room for a new shopping complex on
Terrilian Three.  The camera rolled back to take in the billboard in the
foreground which read: Another Quality Construction To Make Your Lives A
Little Bit Easier, Courtesy Of Ophidian Enterprises.