The Curse of the Dog-Faced Mummy

conclusion

by Danielle L. Parker

Table of Contents
Part 1 appears
in this issue.

The Gargantuan, who had been waiting for his captain to precede him up the gangway into the shuttle, clicked his claws indecisively. At last he sidled through the hatch, pressing his baglike body against the door. “It occurs to me, Captain,” he warbled nervously, “that each of our shares represents a sizable sum of monies...”

“At least 1.6 million Earth Monetary Units each,” said the captain, stepping cautiously on board. “That’s a lot of EMUs. How much do twelve bodacious females cost, Ugly?”

The First Mate, ejecting the shuttle, giggled. “1.6 million EMUs should buy a lot more than twelve,” he replied. “Why, we should both be set for life, sir. I assume Earth females are not particularly expensive... After all, not even eyestalks, sir.”

“You’d be surprised,” said Captain Blunt, staring thoughtfully out the porthole beside him. “The last three I supported lightened my pockets considerably.” He paused. “Did you mean to set us down by the east entrance, Ooglia? I thought the south tunnel was wider.”

“I’m afraid not,” the First Mate demurred. “This is the best route, sir. I’ve checked them all out. No need for concern.”

“Well, well,” said Captain Blunt. “I suppose I might as well see all the tunnels at least once. Such charming wall murals, especially the dining scenes. In view of your greater familiarity with this route, Mr. Ooglia... lead on!”

The honor appeared to slightly unnerve the First Mate, but after more nervous clacking of his claws, he decided it seemed to take his captain’s pleasant smile at face value. Rotating one eyestalk at an awkward angle to keep his companion in view, Ooglia led the way into the tunnel.

The steep trip progressed in near silence until the massive portals came into view. Here Captain Blunt paused thoughtfully. “Excuse me,” he said. “Perhaps your reverse view is distracting you...but did your tunnel have the same laser crossfire booby trap that mine did in that section ahead of us?”

The Gargantuan stopped in his multiple tracks with a whistle of embarrassment. “Well, no,” he replied. “Actually, there’s a hidden floor panel which opens upon an acid pool. I was about to warn you, sir.”

“I quite understand,” said Captain Blunt, carefully probing as he advanced. Sure enough, on his third step the square he tested vanished, and a throat-burning mist wafted from below. He detoured around it carefully. “It’s not every day 1.6 million EMUs hang in the balance. That’s a lot of bird. Lead on, Mr. Ooglia.”

Observing the tall Gargantuan veer slightly left and bend as he passed beyond the portals, Captain Blunt’s keen eyes narrowed. Crouching slightly as he too veered, he waved the crowbar he held in one hand in that center space... and fell precipitously flat. A dull clunk, a sonic whistle through the air that stirred the hair on the back of his head, and he glanced up just in time to see the bolt embed itself in the stone pillar opposite as though it had been butter.

“The crossbow,” the First Mate muttered in anguish. “I should have mentioned it!”

“I’m sure it just slipped your mind,” said the captain, rising to his feet and brushing off his leather jerkin with equanimity. “But perhaps you haven’t thought this through carefully enough, my friend. That valuable coffin weighs tons. I am quite sure it will take both of us to load it into the cargo bay. Savvy?”

The First Mate seemed to be thinking this through very seriously. At last he smiled, showing the 108 serrated teeth. “I quite understand,” he said. “I admit, you’ve relieved my mind. We’ve shipped together for three years, Captain, but I’ve noticed you can be a hard and ruthless man at times. I was a little worried for my personal safety. You’ve set my mind at ease.”

“Has it only been three years, Ooglia?” said Captain Blunt. “Odd, it seems I’ve known your kind forever.” He paused. “Ah... the honorable deceased at last.”

The small chamber had already been denuded of its other contents, but Blunt had to admit, what remained was enough to nearly strike him dumb too. His blue eyes glittering in the karat glare, he revised his estimate of EMUs upwards. The canine cousin presumed occupying that solid gold rectangle must have been longer than the speechless Gargantuan at his side, and the upper surface of it was chest height to his own considerable centimeters. The object could well be priceless.

He glanced at his companion, whose popping eyestalks were riveted by that pure yellow glow, and fingered the stun rod at his belt thoughtfully. No, it really was too heavy for one man-even one as brawny as he. With a sigh, he reached up and sharply flicked one of those hypnotized eyestalks with his thumb.

The First Mate jumped and gave a shriek of pain. “Captain!” he howled, clutching his stinging sensory organ tenderly.

“Take the head end, Ugly,” Captain Blunt commanded briskly. “Get those sleds in line. Together now... push the end over... unnngh!... hold on, it’s slipping again!”

Long minutes of cursing, panting, and perspiring later, the massive object rested safely on the two yoked sleds. Ooglia, reeking of vinegary Gargantuan sweat, clutched the handle of his sled with four sets of trembling claws. “For a being with only four clawless limbs,” he gasped, “You’re almost as strong as a Gargantuan, Captain!”

“Thank you, Ugly,” said Blunt, flexing his weary arms as he spoke. His bursting biceps had split his sleeves. “For a repulsive purple bag, you’re almost as handsome as some humans yourself. Shall we wend our way homeward?”

The return journey was almost smooth. It was true that the lead sled slipped out of Ooglia’s dampened claws a time or two, but Captain Blunt was nimble, and he avoided having his feet crushed... And the shuttle door, closing prematurely, only managed to mouth his shirttail. Ooglia was aghast.

“Never mind,” said Blunt, worrying his shirt free of the door’s powerful jaws. “3.2, I mean 1.6, million EMUs will buy a lot of shirts. Carry on, Mr. Ooglia.”

They had scarcely blasted skywards when Andy Locke’s agitated voice bleated out of the com. “Captain Blunt,” the little engineer cried, “Ship’s scans show two Delosian attack vessels UnFolding just outside orbit!”

“Plot a standby course for Earth,” Captain Blunt commanded harshly. “Try to get it down to three Folds or less. We’ll be docked in one and a half minutes.”

“Computer estimates four minutes to weapons range, sir,” the engineer replied. That clattering sound could be his teeth or his fingernails. “Aye, sir. Plotting course now.”

“No mistakes now, Ugly,” said Blunt, watching the First Mate hunch urgently over his controls. “Guide us in smoothly.”

A buzzing whine like a maddened fly burst loudly out of the com. Blunt, reading the translation scrolling below, grinned at his companion.

“Well, well,” he said. “Fly-eyes has a good memory. That’s a fair description of you, Ugly. Are you sure you only made us one hundred and eighty percent profit on that deal? It seems to have a personal grudge.”

The vinegary odor of Gargantuan sweat had become more pronounced. “Those ships have fifty megaton warheads,” he moaned. “We’ll be pulp, Captain, if we can’t get out of here.”

Captain Blunt was still reading the scrolling translation with narrowed eyes. “I don’t think so,” he replied almost absently. The shuttle docked smoothly; Ooglia, for all his agitation, was still an excellent pilot. Captain Blunt sighed. He really was going to miss the avaricious squid. “They seem to have sentenced you already, Ooglia.” He shook his head disapprovingly. “The punishment seems a little severe... Something about yielding your bodily fluids in repayment of your crass commercial theft...”

Andy Locke’s flat voice cut through the captain’s musings and Ooglia’s frantic docking efforts. “Captain,” he said with deadly calm, “I really wish you hadn’t spaced my spare parts. I’m getting a warning light on the board. I don’t think we’re going to be able to Fold out of here.”

Captain Blunt drew his stun rod as he rose to his feet. “One problem at a time, Andy,” he replied. And he winced as the rod discharged its staccato lance of energy at that broad purple back.

He stepped to the shuttle com, cutting through the continuous angry buzzing with his own unctuous baritone. “Delosian vessel Gnath to... whatever. The perpetuator of the vile crime you describe will be discharged into space immediately. I suggest you tractor him in at once, if you value his bodily fluids. Mr. Ooglia belongs to a sturdy species, but he can’t survive hard vacuum long. Our sincere regrets for his criminal deeds, which we are shocked to learn of from you.”

The maddened whine fell temporarily silent. Captain Blunt carried out his tasks briskly, then returned to the shuttle. Wiping his dampened brow, he watched his screens intently.

The tumbling purple figure suddenly jerked, then headed purposefully toward the opening bay doors of that sinister ship. Captain Blunt, nervously tapping his fingers, saw his former First Mate vanish into its maw. A tall compound-eyed creature in a shiny suit could be glimpsed for an instant... Then the bays closed. Long, tense minutes of waiting ensued; Captain Blunt tapped his fingers in a staccato rhythm.

At last, the two ships turned in eerie tandem. For several seconds they drove out of the planet’s gravity well; then, a distorted whorl of disturbed space replaced their images. They had Folded.

Climbing to the bridge on slightly quivering limbs, Blunt found his chief engineer sunk gray-faced in his chair. The upholstery was flecked with small white hairs; he had clearly denuded his good luck charm in his agitation. “Bad luck, sir,” Andy whimpered. “We’ve lost our First Mate, and we might not be able to get out of here. Never pays to rob the dead!”

Captain Blunt sat down heavily. “Stuff your dead animal in it, Andy,” he said. “Looks like our exchanger has melted. I wonder how long it will take us to find that floating spare...” His hard face grew grim as he surveyed his view screens. “Start examining space debris, Mr. Locke. We need to find a certain used exchanger.”

It was two months before a certain battered, patched, dented vessel limped out of Folded space into Earth orbit. Blunt, his tanned face thinned by weeks of low rations, rubbed his stubbled chin wearily as he squinted at his boards.

“Permission granted to disembark at 17:00 GMT,” he read aloud in triumph. “Dinner’s on me, Mr. Locke. How about dual steak and lobsters at Morton’s tonight?”

The wizened engineer’s pale eyes watered with emotion. “Think they’ll let us in, sir?” he murmured tearfully. “What with our low water supplies, I’m not sure I can get clean by then... I hate to mention it, sir, but you stink too. I think we’d better check into a room first.”

“The Ritz,” smiled Captain Blunt. “2.4 million future EMUs each says they’ll overlook our aromas. Pack your kit, Locke.”

Even Captain Blunt, seated some hours later before the remains of a magnificent repast, had to admit that life could have its up moments. His stomach was finally assuaged, and the brandy in his glass was providing a pleasant buzz. His tall muscular figure was already attracting the coy attention of the brunette at the neighboring table, and the soft night air blew the bubbling sounds of a sax. “All that rot about bad luck,” he said contemptuously to his companion, who was still unashamedly gnawing the last bits of meat on his nearly clean T-bone. “As if any dead dog-faced mummy could...”

Andy Locke looked up from his bone. Captain Blunt, struck dumb by the sudden wild terror in his engineer’s face, followed the direction of his frenzied stare. Across the room, he could see a small elderly woman marching toward them. Just behind her were two large blue-clad gentlemen with conspicuous weaponry hung around their portly middles.

“That’s him,” she howled, pointing an accusing finger as she reached their table. “My shiftless ex-husband. I’ve been waiting forty-three years for this moment, Andrew Locke! You owe me 111,621.47 EMUs in back child support for Pamela, Patrick, Jazzy, and Peter... If you still remember their names! Arrest him, officers!”

Captain Blunt, shaking his head, watched the small figure of his former engineer disappear rapidly out of sight. The two policemen were on both sides, and Andy Locke’s feet were not touching the ground. He frowned thoughtfully as he lifted his brandy. “4.8 million EMUs,” he said meditatively. “But first... I need to get rid of a certain dog-faced curse. I wonder, who might want a red-eyed mummy...?”