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Mission Improbable

On caterpillar tracks, the mechanical alien trundled to the ocean’s edge, where a sluggish liquid flopped onto the sand, withdrew and flopped again, under a deep violet sky. The alien inserted a tube beneath the ripples. Suction commenced, accompanied by a low vibration. As the extracted liquid gurgled and slurped, the mechanical alien transmitted a message to central command: Operation progressing satisfactorily. Unnoticed, in the glimmering darkness beyond the shoreline, a wave appeared. Unnoticed, the wave approached slowly, silently, stealthily. Unnoticed, it loomed like a predatory beast. With a dreadful, dull splash, the wave fell. When it withdrew, the sand was bare. Central command’s communications went unanswered. It never heard from the mechanical alien again.

NWOK · Sci-fi
Not enough ratings
9 Chs

Chapter 8 – The Bug 2

"No it doesn't." Carrie leapt to her feet, her fists clenched at her sides. "It doesn't say anything like that. It's a lonely hearts ad, and you've no business—"

"But how did you correctly find and identify this interview room?"

"I didn't know it was an interview room. I wasn't even looking for an interview room. I needed to...I thought it was the—"

"And you bear the wounds of previous encounters in this line of duty."

"No, I don't, I...what?" Carrie glanced down at her body, and back at the creature. A hundred bug eyes were swivelled in the direction of her lower leg. She turned her foot to see what the bug was looking at. Toodles' scratch marks ran down her calf to her ankle. "That was my cat!"

"Cat. A cat is another Earth animal. Am I correct? So you were not engaged in resolving a conflict between species, you were fighting with this animal—"

"No, I wasn't fighting with her. She's my pet."

"Pet. A pet is an animal that lives with a human. So you were fighting with your pet...Why are you living with an animal that attacks you?"

"I told you, I wasn't fighting with her. You've got it completely wrong. Oh..." Carrie grabbed her head in both hands and slumped down to the floor.

The creature made its clicking noise. "I believe you are expressing signs of agitation. Have I done something incorrect or inappropriate? Please do not tell my superiors. This is the third duty I have been assigned to. If I fail in the proper execution of my tasks in this position I will be terminated." The thing retracted its internal jaws as its head returned to a horizontal position, and drooped.

"But..." Carrie sighed and rolled her eyes. "Oh, all right. Let's get it over with." This dream was becoming weirder and weirder. She wondered if the wine she had drunk had been off. "Let's do the interview, then."

The razor jaws popped out again, and Carrie sat upright, but the creature began talking about boring, political stuff and places and warring factions she had never heard of. She relaxed and lay on her side. Resting her elbow on the floor and her head in her hand, she soon zoned out. Occasionally, the bug would ask a question and she would answer yes or no, as the mood took her.

"Are you familiar with the cultural customs of the Inner Sect of Mantrikees?"

"Yes." Carrie yawned.

"Would you mind undertaking missions that may expose you to threats to your personal safety?"

"No."

As the interview continued the ache in her bladder grew and she tried again to figure out a way to wake up. Her arm began to twinge, and she adjusted her position. She could now see behind the giant bug's shining bronze carapace. There was something there. It was a handbag, sitting in the middle of the floor. A gorgeous designer handbag. She sat up.

"No. Transgalactic Intercultural Community Crisis Liaison Officers must stand out in conflict zones to avoid..."

But Carrie wasn't listening. She strode over to the jumpsuits and hastily pulled two or three out to hold up against herself. Her bladder nagged. She found a uniform that was about her size. It was a bit small but she was on a diet so she should be thin enough to fit into it within a couple of weeks.

She shook her head. What was she thinking? This was a dream, for goodness sake. "Now, where's the way out?"

"But..." said the bug.

"Or," said Carrie, drawing her brows into what she hoped was a stern frown, "should I speak to someone about how you began the interview by frightening the life out of me?"

Behind the huge insect, a circle of swirling green mist appeared. Carrie pushed the orange jumpsuit in with the weird devices, put the bag on her shoulder and went towards the mist. The bag felt solid and heavy, as though it were real. "Thank you very much." The coiling mist began to lift her hair.

"What do I have to do in this job?"

"As a neutral, independent, disinterested member of an alien race, it will be your duty to mediate between disaffected populations to solve political and territorial disputes—"

"Like a space detective? Great."

"No, not remotely like a space—"

"Okay, bye, thanks," Carrie called as the mist took her.