Insignia On


By the time I made it to the floor, he’d opened the door and invited them in. I only saw Ray, but surely one of them was in his pocket.

They were in the kitchen where Conrad had served drinks. He didn’t explain the little temper tantrum, but Ray didn’t ask.

Lives in sylph households could get a little crazy, he must have just assumed there was a story behind the reaction and left it at that.

I got lifted to the table and offered a siplet of Coke.

“So,” Ray asked, “how’d the remotes work?”

“Very well!” I assured him.

“Nothing broke,” Conrad said.

“That’s great,” Ray said. “I was going to take them back to the hotel for a little maintenance check before tomorrow.”

“Yeah, sure,” Conrad said. Then he looked down at me. “I, uh, have to clean one before you get it back.”

Ray looked from him to me and back. That’s about the time I noticed that my shirt was on inside-out. Oops.

“Oh,” Ray said in a quiet voice. “Um…”

“I TOLD you!” his pocket scolded. “NEITHER phone working, that’s a DO NOT DISTURB sign!”

“Yes, I’m sorry, she was right,” Ray nodded.

“Who’s she?” I asked. “It doesn’t sound like Pet or Annie.”

“Well, that’s a story,” Ray said. He looked around the room. “Where are the others?”

“Pocatello, by now,” Conrad said. “A friend is sylph-sitting.”

“Okay,” Ray nodded. He reached into his pocket and lowered a sylph to the table. I saw that it was a woman, and figured it must be Pet’s mom. I remembered the name after a moment: Buttercup.

Strange, I’d always sort of imagined Buttercup as looking like Pet. At least, I thought, she would be blonde like her daughter. This woman was a redhead.

She stepped forward and waved a little wave. “Hi.”

“Hi, Buttercup!” I said, stepping forward. “Welcome to Boise!”

When I was a few inches away, I stopped. I stared. This wasn’t Buttercup. I knew this sylph, it was Denise…

Denise.

Ray’s wife.

A woman who’d been human the last time we’d met.

Conrad had already identified her when I paused. “No one’s sylphed in the last 15 years,” he said slowly.

“Yeah,” Ray said. “We don’t understand what happened, what the significance is, so we’re kind of worried about the reaction if this gets out.”

“You can just say it’s a secret,” Denise told him. “We can trust these two.”

“We’re HERE because we trust these two,” he explained. “I just figure they deserve the whole story.”

“He just likes to justify himself,” Denise told us.

“Oh, we have NO idea what that’s like,” Conrad said. I turned around to stare up at him.

“And who are WE talking about?” I asked.

“I’m sure I don’t know,” he shrugged. He pointedly turned to Denise. “Okay, then, hi, DENISE, welcome to Boise.”

“Thank you, Conrad,” she said with a little bow.

I shook my head and stepped over to her, taking her into a hug. “You must be SO scared!” I said.

“I was,” she said calmly. “I went through the whole schedule of reactions. Confusion, fear, hunger, fear, depression, anger, and fear. Now I’m more… Resigned, I guess. It’s hard to be too scared of the way Pet’s lived her entire life.”

“Well, anything we can do,” I said, patting her back. I stepped back. “So, this is the secret Pet couldn’t share.”

“Yes, and it tore her UP!” Denise said. “Especially after that offer for prayers!”

“We’ll call her and say that we understand, and forgive her,” I said. Conrad put the phone down beside me. He does have his uses.

“So,” Conrad said as I paged through the numbers. “Want a job?”

“I’d love a job!” Denise said.

“Our usual redheaded camerawoman is on a road trip to Pocatello…”

“OOOH!” I said. I hadn’t thought about tomorrow, down one staff member. Oh, crap we were down three! My hair! My clothes! Maybe I should run the camera and let Skippy be the host for that episode? Hide behind the scene?

“OOOH!” Denise said. “I’d love to help!” She clapped her hands and smiled at me. She looked more than willing to pitch in, she looked desperate.

Ah, well, I could do my own prep. Hopefully, no one would be overly critical when they saw the results… Especially no one who lived at this address.

“Wait,” Ray said. “Why are you asking my sylph, without asking me?”

“We’ve met Annie,” I told him. “We’ve seen you with Annie. So I assume you’re being facetious.”

“That means ‘jerk,’ I take it?” Conrad asked.

“Ignore him,” I told Denise. “We have CALLED him facetious enough, even HE can pick up the definition out of context. And guilt.”

“That’s why I guessed it meant jerk,” he explained.

-----

Skippy hadn’t been exaggerating, he attends fandom conventions in a cage. But it’s not from a fear that he might escape.

The cage locks from the inside as well as the outside. No one’s going to take a tiny, talking souvenir home from the con.

The entire cast of Star Trek: Inflict regulars had shown up for FANDEMONIUM this year.

They participated in the opening ceremony and some participated in the Cosplay Dance Contest.

We had Denise inside Skippy’s cage, documenting his view of the con, and his view of the fans. We’d use a few clips to set up the episode, along with some other shots of FANDEMONIUM from a human perspective.

Almost no one showed up dressed as Skippy. But quite a few of the women dressed as Captain Nicola Smythe, with the distinctive scar, had a little Skippy figure on their shoulder.

That afternoon, the crew retired to one of the hotel’s suites.

Ray was up there with six helmets and the remotes. They’d all been painted to resemble Trek uniforms.

Glenda and Conrad stood by with sheets of stickers to apply to the chosen figures.

Skippy introduced everyone to: Penny Sherman, who played Captain Smythe; Myra Cohen who played CDR Axehead, the XO; Shady Teller, who did the voice of the CGI Weapons Officer, LTCDR Kessandra, a female Gorn that resembled a viper; Toby Lander, who played LT Carmichael, at Comms; Mary Tester, LT Eeee, a catwoman like M’Ress of the animated series; and Tex Lander (no relation) who was LT JG Schneibler, the helmsman.

“Oh, that’s so cool!” I said. “You observed military etiquette, introducing them in order of rank!”

“You’re a fan!” Sherman said with delight.

“This whole thing was her idea,” Conrad said as he stuck captain insignia on the figure Sherman had chosen.

“Right,” I said. “It’s all me. I’m the one that has the dialogue of all eight series memorized.”

Skippy had pried up the ensign sticker and put it on his jumpsuit, to fit in. “Fair’s fair, Penny,” he shouted up. “I’m a fan of Electra’s show!”

“You’re a fan of Electra,” Tex snorted.

“Not in front of her owner,” Toby told him.

“This will be so weird,” Cohen said, looking over her helmet. “We’re going to be seen at the convention, but we’ll really be seven floors away from it!”

“Why will that be weird?” Teller asked, keeping a straight face. “OH! You mean several rooms away from the CAMERA! Yes, that will be weird for some people, won’t it.” He drove his wheelchair to the nearest bed. A Paramount production assistant helped him move onto it.

-----

We started filming as the six remotes came active. Skippy introduced each one, keeping to the character’s name for simplicity.

I welcomed them and asked about their impressions of the room.

“It’s much more roomy than I remember from thirty seconds ago,” Smythe said.

“Agent could really penetrate perimeter this form,” Kessandra said, completely unlike the natural sound of the actor who voiced her.

“Okay,” Carmichael told her, “you’re a little too real, all of a sudden.”

Everyone laughed. “I’m not kidding,” he said. “Usually, Kessandra is a stool on the floor, with Shady reading her lines from behind the camera. NOW the deadliest officer in the Fleet is within arm’s reach of my throat!”

“It’s nice throat,” Kessandra hissed.

We all laughed, except for Carmichael.

Everyone filed into the cage and another PA wheeled us out on a cart. The cage had the seven actors, Denise and me.

The actors shared their impressions of the trip. Smooth over the carpet, though the sound was odd. Quite uncomfortable over the grooves of the elevator door. The death knell of the elevator beeping each floor.

Then the door opened and the sound of the convention washed over the cage.

“HOW DO YOU TURN DOWN THE EARPIECE?” Schneibler asked.

“YOU DON’T!” Skippy replied. “YOU’RE LIVING AS A SYLPH AND SYLPHS CAN’T TURN THEIR EARS DOWN!”

“That,” Axehead said, “is a design deficiency I’d have them look into!”

And that was just the ambient noise of 2000 fans conventioning: having fun seeing and being seen and buying stuff.

When the fans noticed the cage, they started cheering. We all covered our ears until we reached the table on the stage.

They had set up a soundproof booth on the table. It was a long glass box with thick sides.

Every place there would normally be an actor’s seat, there was a microphone, a fixed camera, and an action figure. A big screen at the back showed one camera’s view at a time.

They placed the cage inside, shut the door, and we took a moment.

The sudden drop in sound wasn’t complete silence, but it was livable.

We opened the cage and spread out. Everyone took a stand beside their scale replica. A speaker at the far end relayed the voice of the moderator, and the fans when they went to questions.

For the first time, Skippy was the lead character on the panel. He made the introductory remarks, explained the set-up and introduced everyone, including me.

They cheered each introduction. I realized that what we should have done was put a sound meter up in front of the glass, where everyone could see just how much noise was being generated out there.

But the dull roar was still quite impressive, anyway.

We moved around, getting shots of each actor making an announcement, answering a question, telling a joke.

Then they dropped the containment field…

-----

“Holy shit,” Sherman said later, back in the room. “You go through that every time, Skippy?!”

“Worse. We didn’t do an autograph session today.”

“Man. No wonder you’re always begging for earplugs,” Toby said.

“They found me some silicon putty, that helps,” Skippy said. “But not much, as the sound shakes the table and that shakes my spine and I hear it in my ears anyway.”

“It’s the fans that got me,” Cohen said. “For three years they’ve been kids. I mean, grownups, but grownups in costumes. So, my mind sees them as kids. I’m not being dismissive, it’s just that it’s enthusiastic kids mobbing the stage or the table, you know?” Others nodded.

“Today… When they let them up on the stage for a close look? They were monsters. Giants. And that enthusiasm looked like hunger in their eyes.”

“Yeah,” Tex agreed with a shudder.

Mary reached over to place a hand near me. “I heard that guy order you to show him your tits. I’m sorry. Our fans aren’t usually that bad.”

“Mine are,” I shrugged. “They know I fly naked, and I was naked at the Registry, and my owner can make me go naked, so they expect they can demand it.”

“I kills them for you,” Shady hissed in Kessandra’s voice.

“Thanks, but you can’t kill ALL the idiot humans,” I said. “Who’d make the ice cream?”

-----

Myra Cohen had written a couple of episodes for the show and was fascinated by the remotes. She had ideas for an episode that took place entirely within one alien tree, Ensign Skippy leading a remote away team to make first contact of arboreal tinies.

“We’ll have to hire a few sylph actors,” she muttered as she typed on her pad.

“And camera crews!” Skippy said at her elbow. “We should contact Sylph Straits! They have sylph makeup and camera and costume resources and… And writers!”

She made a lot of notes, including Ray’s phone number.

When they’d made all the arrangements they could, until an actual script had actual approval, they started filtering off.

Some people had been to Boise before, others had definite ideas of what to do and where to go.

Skippy was actually authorized to visit with us for the evening! We welcomed him into the carrier. As soon as the door shut, he turned to Denise. “So, you must be Magic.”

“I guess I must be,” she shrugged. “I mean, I can’t fault your logic.”

She sat on the sofa, Skippy sat beside her. Way too close beside her. I started looking for something to hit him with.

“You know,” he oozed, “Electra is dedicated to Conrad, and vice versa, so YOU would be free to…”

“I am flattered,” she said, taking his hand off of her knee. “But there’s a giant out there that considers me his personal property.”

“He doesn’t have to know,” Skippy persisted. There was a note of desperation in his voice.

“Okay, that’s it,” I said. “Two times I’ve been on a show with you, two times you’ve pressured someone for sex. I think we need to fix this.”

He looked scared, and also hopeful. “Fix? Fix…me?”

“Fix your situation,” I said.

“How?” Denise asked.

“I’m going to tell on him.” I stepped to the window. Ray and Conrad were just finishing boxing the remotes to return to Ray and Denise’s room in their hotel.

Behind me, Skippy started to squeak in terror.

I reached out the window and grabbed the chain, ringing the bell. Both men turned their attention to the carrier.

When they identified the sylph asking for attention, Conrad stepped over while Ray went on closing the case.

“What’s up?” Conrad asked.

“Master, Skippy’s a great guy and a wonderful guest, but he really, really needs to get laid.”

“Needs?” he asked me.

“He’s hitting on Magic and me, both.”

“Ah,” he said with a nod of understanding.

“I didn’t-!” Skippy protested. Denise shushed him.

“Why are you bringing this to me?” Conrad asked. Ray wheeled the case over close and sat nearby. “Are you thinking I spend a lot of time looking for places for straight male sylphs to get laid? That I have a little little black book?”

“See?” Denise was asking Skippy. “No one’s angry!”

“Yet,” Skippy said darkly.

“We are in a building,” Ray said, “full of people who think Skippy’s the bee’s tiny knees. Many of them women. Women dressed as Inflict officers!”

“No,” Conrad said flatly. “No one will thank us for starting those rumors among the fans.” He thought for a second. “Or, really, confirming the rumors that probably already exist.”

“Do we ever, I dunno,” I asked, “arrange… Something? For guests on the show?”

“Oh!” he looked surprised. “We have made reservations at a place that does Passion Cakes…”

“In Idaho?” Denise asked at the exact same moment Ray asked, “In Boise?”

“Meridian,” Conrad said, his expression distracted. After a long, silent moment, I figured out what he was thinking about.

“Ray can watch us,” I said. “Your, uh, your two sylphs will be fine with Ray at his hotel.”

“I just don’t want to order Passion Cake for one,” Conrad muttered. “It’s creepy.”

He gave a start, we all started, when the suite door opened and Mary Tester came in.

“My dinner date canceled on me,” she said. “Can I hang out with you guys?”

Conrad stood up slowly. “Sure. One way or another,” he promised. “Ray, here, is going to take sylphs back to his room and pig out on room service desserts.”

“OOooh!” Mary smiled.

“I… Don’t take this wrong, but I wanted to get Skippy laid, so I was going to order a Passion Cake at a place I know.”

“Um…” Mary hesitated.

“You’re welcome to choose,” Ray said. “My hotel has a four-star restaurant.”

She looked at Conrad. He whipped out his phone. “I think the Pink Palace can’t be more than… Oh! Look at that. It’s a three-star!”

“Can I get dinner before the Cake?” she asked.

-----

Ray was the perfect host. He ordered the desserts before he even started looking at the available movies.

We sampled from ice cream and pie (there was no discussion, but no one wanted to try the cake just then) while we watched James Bond. Denise told Ray the ‘usual rules’ applied.

“He only gets to point out THREE scientific impossibilities for the entire movie,” she confided.

“That’s enough,” I nodded.

“And he always holds at least one in reserve for the climax, so usually we only get two!”

In the end, we only got one. Bond got a clue from Q’s analysis of a recorded conversation. Ray started to explain why it wouldn’t work.

I turned out to know more about microphones and voices than Ray did. He shut up after that. Denise kissed me on the cheek. “Annie’s going to LOVE this story!”

“I didn’t just start the Sylph Uprising, did I?” She shrugged.

The movie ended before Conrad and his guests showed up. They came in to sit down and relax while I gathered my things. Or, thing, really. I had a sweater… Somewhere.

“How’d dinner go?” Ray asked.

Denise ran across the bed to kick his wrist. “HOW? WAS? DINNER?” she edited. “We all know the purpose of the meal, but we don’t have to CONCENTRATE on mission objective completion status! ‘Kay?”

“Dinner was perfect,” Mary said. “It was nice to get far enough away from the convention that nobody recognized me.”

“Oh, right!” Ray said. “You’re pretty heavily made up on the show.”

“I have a wig for my entire face,” she laughed. “Plus, Conrad advised me not to order the seafood.”

“Is it bad there?” Denise asked Conrad.

“It’s Idaho,” Conrad shrugged. “Seafood’s kind of hit-or-miss around here. But the trout…”

“The trout was perfect!” Mary sighed.

“Not to be mission status oriented,” I said with a smile, “but where’s Skippy?”

Conrad fished around in his pocket and eased a very limp little man onto the bedspread between Denise and me.

Skippy lay flat, totally vitiated, smiling up at us. “Your master sprung for TWINS!” he giggled.

Conrad picked up the carrier and opened its door. “Well, let’s get people home for the night.” He placed it beside me.

Denise took me into a goodbye embrace. “Thanks for the help,” I said.

“Thanks for the JOB!” she said.

Then we each grabbed Skippy under an armpit and dragged him into the carrier. We didn’t exactly ‘dump’ him on the sofa, but we didn’t pamper him, either.

He didn’t care, he was going to be smiling like that for the next year.

Once we got home, we found a message from Delli, Cher and Magic. They were fine, the crisis was averted, the wedding was a big success, and they’d be home once Lisa was sober enough to drive, plus four or five hours.

When the message finished I turned to Conrad. “They called the condo? Is your phone STILL turned off?”

“Of course not!” he said, taking the phone out of his pocket. There was a distinct click as he turned it back on. “What would the point be of carrying around a phone that was turned off?”

“I can’t imagine one,” I said. “How many missed calls?”

“Only one,” he said. “And, uh, twelve texts.” He thumbed through them. “They assume we’re having a huge amount of sex.”

“Are they?” I replied. “Well, WE aren’t. You licked your passion twins clean, but I-“

“I didn’t lick anyone clean,” he protested. Then he reached over to touch my leg, caressing my thigh. “Yet.”



-----
Index

153. You’ll See On (N)

155. Sailing On