The surveillance missions to the last four planets on the expedition’s itinerary had been unqualified successes. Their reconnaissance of the star systems had expanded the inventory of available resources—mineral and biological—in the arm of the spiral galaxy that formed the Quartile Hegemony. The cloaked sensor probes they’d placed in orbit had returned accurate details of the extractable ores, and the surveillance teams had blended into the societies and produced inventories of available labor and methods for subjugation.
The surveillance teams received commendations, but not Qual. Commander Queen had failed to acknowledge Qual’s contribution and didn’t even thank him in the post-mission debrief as they departed the previous star system.
Qual had suffered ridicule and scorn constantly on this expedition. His role as the pop-culture anthropologist and costume designer was just as critical to the mission as the on-site surveillance teams were. The surveillance teams should respect his work and appreciate how his effort allows them to blend in—their relentless comments dismissing his work as frivolous and trivial grated.
This new world presented a unique opportunity to take his revenge. Per standard protocols, Qual had spent the transit time from their last surveillance stop reviewing popular entertainment from the next target planet on the itinerary. He’d watched hours of something called “movies” or “films” designed for large audiences, presented as life-size images on large viewscreens. As they’d gotten closer to the planet, he’d picked up something called videos targeted for individual use on tiny screens of personal communication devices. Across all these formats, and for at least one hundred of the planet’s years, one dress style was regularly depicted in some percentage of the material.
As Qual had found with other planets, clothing and fashion changed over time for the most part. But for their current mission, Qual was surprised to find multiple examples of a consistent pattern of dress and behavior for some segment of the population in every period he reviewed. Qual could use these videos to convince the surveillance teams to accept their costumes without suspicion. And he could select specific records for his behavior and speech dialects training program, and no one would be the wiser. I’ll show them how vital my work is when they don’t have the right costume, Qual thought.
Qual would share his plot with Quant.
Quant was the economics and resource tabulator and the only one on the ship who Qual thought of as a friend. Quant measured and recorded the availability and abundance of the various natural resources. He worked in his lab and ignored the surveillance teams. Qual would visit Quant to share his frustration, and Quant would listen.
###
“Quant, I’m sick and tired of the constant scorn and ridicule I’ve suffered on this expedition,” said Qual when he visited Quant during the next rest period.
Quant welcomed Qual in his quarters and opened the cupboard to prepare drinks. “Qual, you’re too sensitive. Just ignore them.”
“I can’t. They’re constantly reminding me that the real action is down on the planet’s surface.”
“Well, it kind of is, isn’t it?” Quant handed Qual his favorite fermented juice drink and returned to the chair at his workstation.
Taking a sip, Qual nodded in thanks. Qual began pacing the tiny cubicle that served as Quant’s lab and living quarters. “I know, but do they have to rub it in. It’s not my fault I’m not large enough to pass as a local. Didn’t I graduate from the academy, just like them? Didn’t I earn a berth on this expedition?”
“That’s what I’m saying. Just do the best you can and ignore them.”
Qual stopped in the middle of the room and downed the rest of his drink. “I shouldn’t have to. I’ll show them how important I am, and then they’ll stop.”
Quant’s eyes narrowed as he watched his visitor. “What are you going to do?”
“No details. I don’t want to get you mixed up in this. But don’t worry, I’ll show them.”
“Qual, you could get in trouble if you mess with these guys. You could compromise the mission. What if somebody gets hurt? Or worse—discovered?” Quant got up from his workstation and stood in front of Qual, shifting from side to side and kneading his hands.
“What are they going to do to me? Fire me? I’m the only costume designer on board, and we’re fifty light-years from the nearest station with five more planets to survey.”
“The Commander could kick you out of the Service when we get back.”
“So what? Nobody here would care.”
Quant stepped a little closer and put a light hand on Qual’s arm. “I would care. You’re the only friend I have on this ship.”
Qual looked Quant in the eyes, glistening with held-back tears. Qual hadn’t known Quant felt that way, hadn’t realized Quant thought of him as a friend, rather than just someone to talk to. “OK. OK. I’ll keep it light and airy. I won’t put anyone in danger, and the worst will be they’ll need to return to the ship for new clothing. But I have to do something.”
“I wish you wouldn’t—but please be careful.”
###
The Lieutenant’s boots hammered the hardwood flooring of their rented house as he rushed in. “Commander, we’re getting frantic reports from the field teams.”
“Frantic? What kinda bull pucky is that? What’s their problem?”
“Ma’am, it’s different on the two coasts.”
The Commander switched on her comms and contacted the New York team. With one hand resting on the grip of her firearm, her booted toe tapped a perturbed staccato on the wood floor. “What’s your problem, Major Quell?”
“Ma’am, we stick out like sore thumbs. People are staring at us. We are not blending in.”
“How’s that? You’re costumed the same as all the teams. Qual did his usual thorough job on the costumes and the training. It’s the standard, cultural-norm dress. You saw the training vids. Is your team following the behavior protocols?”
“Yes, Commander. I’m telling you—it’s the clothes. Nobody’s dressed this way. And nobody’s wearing these broad-brimmed hats. They’re all wearing colorful shirts and tight pants. Some even have colored hair. Qual screwed up.”
“Just hold tight. Let me check with the team on the West Coast.”
The Commander changed channels and contacted the team in Los Angeles. “Major Quest, what’s your situation?”
“Ma’am, we are not blending in. We flickered in on a wide concrete plaza in front of a large theater. There seems to be a sizeable crowd and many different costumed individuals taking pictures with everyone. And there’s this one paunchy guy in a white suit covered in jewels with a bunch of colorful scarves that everyone seems to want a picture with.”
“Well, just stay out of their way. Follow the protocols, Major.”
“We can’t. There seems to be some sort of religious ceremony going on. All the locals are down on their knees, reverently placing their hands in indentations on the ground. And the locals keep coming up to us and wanting to take our picture. Something about John Wayne and Gary Cooper—they must be heroes for the local population. What do you want us to do?”
“OK. Use your flicker and get back to the ship. Make sure nobody sees you. The East Coast team is having a similar problem. I’ll recall them as well and meet you on the ship.”
The Commander needed to find out what was going on with the other teams. Majors Quest and Quell were outstanding team leaders. Why they were having problems now was a mystery. And, she was disappointed that Quell was trying to blame Ensign Qual.
She and the Lieutenant and their team had blended in perfectly and even drawn a few nods of approval and greetings of acceptance. She made a mental note that Qual had done such an outstanding job on her costuming and training, he deserved a commendation. Not only did she blend in, but she was also having some fun with this role.
Now it was time to return to the ship. “Lieutenant Quorum, git on the horn and call Major Quell’s team. Tell him to head ‘em up and move ‘em out—back to the ranch. Then head on there yerself. I’ll meet you on the ship. Lock her up on yer way out.”
The Commander hiked her gun belt a little higher on her hips, gave her six-shooter a spin on her finger, just like Qual had shown her, dropped the long-barreled revolver back in its holster, lowered the brim of her hat over her eyes, and sauntered towards the door—her spurs ringing a jangled counterpoint to the clomp of her boot heels.
“What about the local team?” asked Lieutenant Quorum.
The Commander turned back before hitting the flicker button. “Leave ‘em where they are. Maybe our cowpokes here can salvage something from this cattle drive. After all, if we’re lookin’ for resources, we need to be lookin’ where the action is—right down here in the heart of Texas.”
END