Above His Station (20 page)
‘It’s fine, boys…really,’ she said, dispersing the crowd with her fins. ‘They’re lovely, but they can get a bit overprotective at times.’
‘So I see,’ I said.
‘Astrid said you might be dropping by,’ Taisho said, swimming over to the near-side of the pond.
I plonked myself down onto the cold stone surround so that we might converse more easily, and the rat hopped down from my shoulder and sat by my side.
‘Astrid said that you do legal work for the SLETVDTC occasionally,’ I said, by way of an introduction. ‘So do you think you would be able to give us a few tips on what to expect at the forthcoming hearing?’
‘I can do my best,’ said Taisho. ‘But I’ve got to be honest…it’s one hell of a task you’ve set for yourselves. Couldn’t you have picked an easier fight? And you want to know what an Advocate’s role is, right?’
‘Yes, please,’ I confirmed.
‘And you want me to coach
that?
’ she bobbed her head towards you-know-who.
‘Indeed, we do,’ I confirmed.
‘And this needs to be done within 2 days or something equally impossible?’
‘Indeed, it does,’ I confirmed.
‘And what about you, rat? Do you think you can handle this?’
‘Abso-fucking-lutely,’ the rat confirmed (in its own unique way).
‘Then you’re a fool!’ Taisho slapped her tail against the pond’s surface, splashing the rodent with cold water. ‘If you think you can just waltz into this with a chip on your shoulder and just expect things to go your way, you can forget it. And if you think this is going to be just like you see in the movies, then you’re deluding yourself. And if you think that somehow you’re going to get lucky and just wing it, think again. You might think crawling about in who knows what sort of crap you find in the places that you frequent is a tough life, but believe me…once you’ve seen how needlessly bureaucratic the intergalactic legal system is, you’ll think whatever hardships you might have suffered in your miserable little existence thus far were a day out at the beach.’
‘Cheery little thing,’ said the rat, ‘aren’t you?’
‘I’m trying to be
realistic!
’ snapped Taisho. ‘You’re going to need to get with the program pretty quick or the Asclepians are going to be peeling your guts off the soles of their shoes!’
‘Snakes don’t actually wear shoes,’ said the rat (not helping matters, as per usual).
‘We’re very grateful for any advice you can offer us,’ I said, hoping to make up some ground with Taisho. ‘So what do we have to do?’
‘
You
, human? You have to do nothing but pray that your Advocate listens to every single word that I teach him,’ replied the fish. ‘It’s him that’s going to be doing all the work. Best you just give us a little space though, hmm?’
‘Oh,’ I said, feeling like a fifth wheel all of a sudden. ‘I see. Well, of course, I’ll just go and take a seat over there then, shall I? Out of your hair…so to speak.’
‘If you would,’ said Taisho.
‘Hey, don’t sweat it, Gramps. I’ll be fine,’ boasted the rat.
‘I’m sure
you
will,’ I said, making my way up the steps to the gazebo. ‘It’s me that’ll probably get a dose of piles if I sit on this damp bench for too long.’
I took my position and observed. I couldn’t really hear much of what the fish was saying, but whatever the topic of conversation, it caused the rat’s face to draw paler with every passing moment. Still, like I’d said when I’d chosen it to be my Advocate, my instincts told me that I was doing the right thing. I only hoped that the creature would keep its trap shut and listen for once. I sighed my lungs empty and felt around inside my satchel for one of my novels. It didn’t really matter which one, but I prayed that it was going to be ‘
Bear Island
’ because I was already halfway through that and I’d stopped at a really good bit – but my luck ran true to form and instead I pulled out my Cussler. I was disappointed because I’d read that one so many times that I could recite the first chapter practically word for word. Even so, I opened the dog-eared book up and started again, reading the ever-so-familiar words.
*
It had been dark for many hours when I felt a prod on my nose and woke up in a daze to see the rat sat upon my chest.
‘Oh!’ I exclaimed with a start. ‘Are you finished already?’
‘Already?’ laughed the rat. ‘Dude, it’s been almost 6
hours
.’
‘Really?’ I gasped. ‘Well, I never! And you got it all done?’
‘Taisho’s only taught me the basics so far,’ the rat said. ‘I’ve got to come back tomorrow to hear a general overview on the intergalactic legal system, which she reckons might take us the most of the day because it’s such a head-fuck. She’s going to send some case studies up to the room, and I’ve got to hit the books once we’ve had dinner.’
During my forty-winks, my whole body had seized up and I had pins and needles in my buttocks. I should never have sat on that bench for so long (I’d pay for it in the morning, that was for sure). I pushed myself up to my feet (after a first, second and finally third attempt) and offered my arm to the rat. It declined though, preferring to walk to give it a chance to clear its head. I asked what I had missed during my slumber, and it replied that it was perhaps best illustrated by the training montage from
Rocky
. I questioned this and it said that it was only an analogy; the underdog’s struggle against adversity, the unruly pupil who’s cocky to begin with until he turns a corner and starts to take things seriously and then finally he becomes the Champ. I admitted to the rat’s disgust that I was only vaguely familiar with the film (although picturing the rat as an unruly pupil came easily to me). I hoped that this was a turning point, for as Astrid had said quite rightly, an entire world was relying on it. It certainly seemed to me to be a completely different rodent; a lot more contemplative and far less jokey. In fact, I don’t think I heard one single caustic comment for the duration of our stroll through the gardens back towards the main building. I was a tad worried about it, if I’m honest. It didn’t seem to be itself at all and I wondered if it was coming down with something. I rather missed my little friend’s quirky sense of humour and constant chatter, as well as its ability to say highly inappropriate things at awkwardly inappropriate times. Quite unselfishly, I didn’t bring this up, as I was thankful that the rat was taking its responsibility seriously, as well as thankful that the burden wasn’t on my shoulders for a change. But even so, I couldn’t resist trying to cheer the little chap up.
‘You’re being very coy,’ I said, with a smirk on my face. ‘You’ve obviously been hanging around with Taisho for too long.’
‘Not funny.’
‘It’s just a surprise, that’s all,’ I said. ‘I expected you to carp on about it.’
‘Not funny.’
‘I wonder where Taisho parks her car,’ I said.
‘
So
not funny.’
‘I was only trying to lift your spirits,’ I said. ‘And you fell for it hook, line and sinker.’
‘Tenuous. And still not funny.’
‘Well, if you recall, I did say there was something fishy going on,’ I said.
‘Do we have to do this right now? Seriously?’ asked the rat, losing its cool. ‘I’ve been talked at constantly for the past six hours. My head hurts, I’m exhausted, and I’m fucking starving. I just want to get something to eat and get to bed. Is that okay with you, Gramps?’
‘Of course it is,’ I said. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to bait you.’
The rat scowled at me. ‘I’m not even going to give you the satisfaction.’
*
To keep Astrid company we had dinner back at the apartment. I wasn’t all that keen on giving the cafeteria another try anyway. I think I would rather have starved. Astrid said that she’d kept herself busy all day, yet she was awfully cagey about what she had discovered about her father’s business on Puck. She said that it was still early days, but she was certain the Prime Ambassador would slip up eventually. I wasn’t so sure that he would do anything of the sort. My intense dislike of politicians even eclipsed my intense dislike of lawyers, and throwing a cunning alien snake into that concoction only made me even more nervous. Things, I assumed, could not have been worse.
There isn’t much in the way of interesting events for the following day, apart from the fact that I spoke to Serge downstairs who helped me out with telling the time. I was used to my schedules and I was thrown off balance to say the least. Apparently, due to its cosmic alignment or what-have-you, the days on Puck vary from 17 to 19 hours in length, depending on the position of the other planets’ arrangement in relation to the Sun at that time. Of course, my trusty
Timex
was oblivious to that fact and so Serge found a digital timepiece in the Lost Property box behind Reception that automatically synchronised itself with any galactic time zone, adding a sly “
If they haven’t been back to collect it after a month, they can’t miss it very much, can they?
” to which I replied that I supposed not. But having a wristwatch only made my boredom more acute.
The rat was in the garden, still swotting up on the intergalactic legal system with Taisho, and Astrid had spent much of the night snooping around in the Prime Ambassador’s suite so she’d taken herself off to bed – which left yours truly with time on his hands and nothing to fill it with. So I sat on the end of my bed and decided to flick through some of the TV channels. It was similar to what we get on Earth in the way of mid-morning television; the only difference being that the languages spoken were alien – as were the presenters, guests and audience members.
Sometimes back home I would leave the TV switched on after breakfast and inadvertently end up catching that programme when they have so-called ‘
ordinary
’ people washing their dirty linen in public. You know the type. Usually the bloke’s cheated on his girlfriend, or their relationship is abusive and sometimes violent too, but still she stays with him thinking she can change him. Sometimes they force people to take DNA tests to prove or (more rarely) disprove they are the rightful father of a child. I always imagined how that child felt should it look back one day and see its parents arguing over whether it was their problem or not. These people are not what I would have classed as ‘
ordinary
’ back in my day, but I suppose those are the times we’re living in nowadays. The public change generally, but none more so than the general public.
Although I couldn’t decipher the aliens’ language, I’m fairly confident that I got the gist of the story. The presenter, the guests and the whole audience were much like red-and-green-striped penguins (and I like penguins) so I was naturally enthralled. Even the fact that they were wearing clothes and makeup couldn’t force me to change the channel. If anything it heightened my enjoyment, and it wasn’t as if I had any other more pressing business to attend to. I gathered that the male alien penguin had been unfaithful with someone known to the female alien penguin, and I gathered too that it was her best friend (or possibly a younger sister, I was undecided). I hooted like an owl when sure enough, they brought out the harlot from backstage. A vicious flipper-fight ensued between the two females until the presenter alien penguin was forced to get a couple of burly security alien penguins to separate them.
Afterwards I could fully understand how this sort of thing could be classified as entertainment and I made a discreet mental note to catch the repeated showing later that afternoon. The first thought that sprang to my mind was that ITV were missing a trick.
*
With the rat not showing its face for lunch, I had no choice but to brave the cafeteria on my own. Wisely, I opted for the soup of the day (a taste not dissimilar to French onion but with the consistency of toothpaste) and a bread roll.
*
After lunch I kept myself busy by going for a walk around the SLETVDTC grounds, making sure that I kept well away from the sunken garden so I didn’t put the rat off its studies. The lawns were immaculate, cut with those nice stripes you usually see on bowling greens. I liked the way the gravel path sounded under my feet, one of the few places on Puck where I actually felt as if I was making physical contact with terra firma, as opposed to floating a few inches above it. The pain in my thigh had eased considerably by this time, and I was able to walk freely until I came upon a sight that made me stop abruptly and perform a quick double-take.
Molly and I had always been fans of crazy golf. We used to play it at the holiday camp in Camber Sands that we used to frequent when the children were young. What I like about crazy golf is that it takes a fair degree of skill, yet you’re not bogged down by all the technicalities of which club to use or what direction the wind is coming from. The only thing you have to worry about is timing your strike so that the ball goes through the rotating blades of the windmill, or hitting it hard enough for it to go up the helter-skelter and then back down again, through the big shoe and into the hole.
To my ever expanding surprise there was a chap playing it all by himself, and I found that due to my boredom my barriers of friendship had lowered to the extent where I went over and introduced myself. His name was Nixt-Plar Sandersanderson (former Colonel in the Ursa-Vex Defence Corps, now retired) and he was charming - an alien, of course, but charming with it. I asked if I could perhaps join him for a round or 2 and he told me that he normally played on his own as it gave him a chance to think, but this wasn’t by choice and he would love a game as long as we didn’t take it too seriously. That suited my needs perfectly and so I dived in with gusto.
We played 10 rounds, of which Nixt-Plar won 6 and I won 4 – so although it wasn’t a victory from my side, I didn’t really mind. It got me out of the apartment and gave me a chance to chat to someone who wasn’t a talking rat or a talking snake or a talking fish.
*
It was getting dark by the time I returned to the main building and I consulted my wristwatch. It was only 15:40hrs! How was I going to waste the rest of my afternoon until dinner? The repeat of the alien penguins show wasn’t until 16.45hrs, so I went down to Reception and asked Serge if there was a games room or something so I could play some checkers, or maybe even a frame or two of billiards if they had a decent table. But he told me they used to have one but it got turned into a first aid room, so I trudged back up the apartment, mildly crestfallen.