Fur Ball

Part Four

by 
Lorie Schultz

                     It soon became apparent that finding the Trader wasn’t going to be easy.  The crowds weren’t heavy in the shopping areas, but he wasn’t in his previous spot.

            “Well, maybe we should just walk around.  He might have set up somewhere else,” Penny suggested.

            “Penny, child.  Why would he move his shop on such short notice.”

            “It’s not like that, Dr. Smith.  He was selling from a small table over in that corner there.  And he had a bunch of small things so I guess it would be easy for him to pack up quickly to find a better spot.”

            “More likely to disappear in a hurry,” Smith muttered, knowing the type only too well.  He’d grown up with them in the heart of the City and could smell their “easy some, easy go” attitude a mile away.  In fact, Smith wished he’d had a dollar for every time some store front swindler tried to sell him a “real” Rolex “cheap”.

            Judy and Penny exchanged worried glances, but decided to keep hunting.  They walked through the winding corridors bordered by gaily decorated window displays.  There were garments of every variety and size (or lack thereof), furs from a thousand different creatures, odd or rare gemstones, music and literature in a wide variety of packaging and formats, from familiar disc style to square multi‑faced, many-colored crystals.

            Smith stopped by a shop that displayed hundreds of musical instruments.  Intrigued by his interest, Judy continued to cling to his arm and allowed herself to be escorted inside.  Like a perfect gentleman, he held the door and gallantly gestured for her to enter.  As she glided past him, leaving a trace of perfume in her wake, Will and Penny took the opportunity to follow her.  The very second they had entered the establishment, Smith allowed the door to slam on West.  Eyes hurling daggers at the Doctor’s back, West angrily yanked the door open and suddenly trailed after the rest of his crew.

            After fingering many of the stringed instruments, Smith approached what looked like a display of various keyboards.  He lovingly caressed the rich light and dark wooden keys of one instrument that clearly resembled a piano.  The sales‑being came over, hopping on four limbs.  It settled back on its long, muscular tail, using the appendage as a handy seat.  It began to regale him with the characteristics of the musical device, its origin and its price, which at 4,000 cryl’nas, nearly made Judy choke.

            Oblivious to her reaction, the doctor lightly depressed some keys, getting the feel for the sound. But they were different notes from the piano which sat in his den.  Still, the sight of it made him homesick.  The sales‑being, sensing a problem, inquired about his needs.

            “We’re from Earth,” he explained glumly.  “The arrangement of notes on the keyboard is very different from what you have here.”

            “Easily remedied,” the alient responded gaily.  “Can you play a scale of the major and minor notes?”

            Smith complied, after finding the appropriate keys.  The alient then depressed a button on the side of the instrument.  A drawer, which reminded Will of a CD ROM drawer slid out, and the alient pushed at some raised buttons.  He closed the drawer with a tiny shove of two furry fingers. 

            “Go ahead,” the sales‑being coaxed, making a sweeping gesture at it.

            Hesitantly Smith sat down and quickly ran an octave with one poking finger to his amazement, the instrument now sounded like a Terran piano.  With a perfectly straight face he flexed his long fingers, cracked a few knuckles, and with a mighty flourish went into a stirring rendition of “Chop Sticks”.

            West let out a mocking guffaw and shook his head.  Pompous idiot is what he thought, but refused to say it because Judy was humoring the doctor.  Will did laugh aloud, but seemed to be playing along as well.

            As soon as Smith finished the short “song,: he ran one index finger over the length of the keys, hit a few hesitant notes and immediately launched into a flawless rendition of Chopin’s “Minute Waltz in D Flat Major”.

            The sales‑being sat awestruck as the beautiful and lively melody rolled out of the instrument.  He sensed a sale was in the making and was willing to just sit and enjoy this strange yet pleasing music.

            When it was finished, Smith stood up.  Allowing the tiniest hint of a smile to break his haughty expression, he stood up to his full height, snapped his fingers under West’s nose as if to say “So there!” and pointedly stuck out his elbow for Judy to take it again.

            The beautiful blond did so, but only after allowing a rich peal of laughter to roll through her sensuous lips.

            “But, but...” the alient sputtered as the group marched out the door as if they were foreign dignitaries whose audience was at an end.

            “Ah, nothing like a stroll down a crowded avenue with a beautiful woman,” he stated contentedly, making sure Don heard him.  “I suggest we find some establishment for our mid‑day meal.”

            Playing along, Judy said, “I’m open to suggestions, Doctor.”

            Before getting to the restaurant, Judy asked if she could look in one store that sold a wide selection of perfumes and cosmetics.  Some clearly weren't for humanoids, but she did a few that seemed attractive.  Mentally, she marked this store so she could return to it later, when time allowed.

            On her way out, she passed the “impulse buy” racks and selected a pair of gold hoops that were clearly designed for non‑human ears.  Nevertheless she held them up beside her own delicately shaped ear lobes and said, “Well, what do you think?”  She hid the smirk that was struggling to break free because she knew full well they looked atrocious.

            The younger children tried to suppress a giggle.  Don looked like he didn’t know what to say.  He wasn’t going to win today no matter what he did, and he knew it.

            After a moment’s appraisal, Smith purred, ”Those trashy baubles don’t hold a candle to your loveliness.  Only the rarest gems and purest gold should grace your perfect countenance.”

            Over his shoulder, Judy saw Don look as if he wanted to lose his breakfast.  Struggling to appear flattered, which wasn’t too hard even though the words were coming from Smith, she suppressed another grin.  And then she caught the Doctor’s blue eyes.  There was laughter in them.  He winks and then arched on eyebrow, beseeching her to play along.

            “Oh, Doctor ... Um, may I call you Zachary?  Tell me more,” she purred.  “It isn’t often I get to hear compliments, especially such eloquent ones.”

            Looping her arm through his, she gave his lower biceps a playful squeeze and led him out of the shop.  Will shrugged at Penny, who promptly shrugged back.  “Grown‑ups!” the boy finally muttered, with a wry toss of his head.

            “Boy, you said it!” Penny agreed as she followed the group.

            Arms crossed, West stewed in his anger for a few seconds then trudged after the disappearing back of his comrades.

            They hadn’t gone much further when Penny yelled, “That’s him!” and dashed down a side corridor where a few small shops were arranged in a cul‑de‑sac.

            The man she ran to looked startled, stood up and appeared ready to bolt until he realized it was a young girl dashing his way and not one of those blasted security officers.  True, he had a permit to be there, but they still delighted in harassing him every chance they got.  Besides, some of the things he occasionally passed along to willing customers weren’t always registered or approved items, so he needed to be careful.

            “Greetings, my young friend!” he called out when he recognized her.  “How can I be of assistance?”

            He followed up his words with a broad smile, and tucked his thumbs in his broad belt.  The he spotted the group trailing in her wake.  The smile vanished like a wisp of smoke carried away in a stiff breeze.

            Pausing to catch her breath, Penny said, “It’s the tribbles, sir.”

            “Tribbles?  I thought I only sold you ONE tribble.”

            “That’s right; you did.  But he, I mean, she — Well, it had an awful lot of babies.”

            The rest of the group joined them and stood off to one side, though clearly within earshot.  Smith stared at the man long and hard.  A funny, fuzzy feeling at the back of his skull kept whispering that this man looked very familiar.  He recognized the gravelly voice ... from somewhere.  And then there was that face and rotund form.

            The man was dressed in a bright silver tunic and pantaloons.  And Smith focused on him again, thinking ... that the man would have looked better in ... orange?  He almost snorted aloud, wondering why this corpulent, rough‑throated humanoid should make him think of the color orange.

            Well, no matter, he told himself.  “Sir, allow me to introduce myself.  I am Dr. Zachary Smith.  And I am the child’s — well, let’s just say that I’m her guardian, shall we?  And we have sought you for the purpose of ascertaining the best method for curtailing the breeding proclivities of that little creature you sold her.”

            “Breed that fast, do they?” he asked innocently.

            Don and the others were perhaps fooled, but not Smith.  He knew that shifty look.  Had put it to some good use himself on occasion, especially when he was caught with his hand “in the cookie jar”.

            “That, my good fellow, is an understatement.  We merely wish to find out if you’d like a few of them back — think of the profit you could make on their resale — in exchange for suggestions on how to curb their reproductive processes.”

            The man stood up to his tallest height, which wasn’t all that impressive to begin with, and stated, “Never let it be said that Cyrano Jones won’t try to satisfy his customers.”

            He leaned in toward the grown‑ups and whispered, “To be honest, I got them off another trader only two days ago myself and I’ve got ... more than I need ... right now.  I have absolutely no idea how to keep the little critters from making babies.  As you’ve probably noticed, they eat just about anything vegetable in nature, and about the only thing I can suggest is that you stop feeding them and see if that helps.”

            “But they’ll stave!” Penny blurted out in alarm.

            “That is a possibility,” Trader Jones answered sadly.  “I haven’t tried that method on mine yet but I may have to pretty soon or I’ll have so many I won’t be able to life off.”  He ended his comments with a rasping laugh.

            “I don’t know if we should take that warning seriously or not,” West murmured to Judy, who gave him an odd look.  The thought of starving the creatures to death didn’t appeal to her one bit, and their suffering was the only thing on her mind right then.

            “Should we try separating them fire?” she asked hopefully.

            Jones shrugged one heavy shoulder.  “Couldn’t hurt.”

                Grateful for the opportunity to assume the leadership role, Don guided the group away.  When he was finally out of earshot of the trader, he stated, “Let’s head back right away and discuss this with your parents.  I suggest we try getting rid of a few more by giving them to the other visitors and try separating those we can’t pawn off.”

*****

            Amidst the hustle and bustle of the crowded walkways were seen a few beings cradling furry little animals in their limbs. When the Jupiter 2 got back to their berth they were approached by at least ten different alient children trying to give away the “most beautiful little pets.”.  They all had held twittering, chirping tribbles in an array of colors.  Evidently there hadn’t been many “takers”.

            “I can see that competition to unload our unwanted guests will be stiff,” Smith observed.

            Hastily they climbed the steps into Jupiter 2.  Tribbles, in a small group, were everywhere.  In the middle of the deck were several large supply boxes, now emptied of their contents and housing about 50 tribbles each.

            Striding up to them with a worried look on her face, Maureen asked hopefully, “well, did you learn anything useful?”

            “Not really. The trader told us to stop feeding them and to keep them separated,” Penny informed her.

            “So far we’ve tried both,” their mother answered, in an uncharacteristically frustrated tone, “and it obviously isn’t working at all.”

            As they were speaking, John came down the lift.  He carried an armload of wriggling fur.  “Darling,” he said soothingly to his youngest daughter, “I know you wanted a pet, but these things have got to go.  All of them.  Believe me, no one is sorrier than I am to break the news to you, but I want you to take them off our ship.”

            Penny looked close to tears.  “But what am I to do with them, Daddy?  The trader won’t take them back, and it looks like everyone I gave the first litter to now has too many too.  They are already giving them away...”

            “Unsuccessfully, I might add,” Smith chimed in, enjoying the fact that this was one dilemma he couldn’t be blamed for.

            “It’s all right, honey,” John consoled her gently.  “Just take these outside for the time being.  I’ve poked air holes in the boxes, and we can seal them up and put them outside until we can figure out what to do with them.”

            “Okay, Daddy.  I’ll do it.”

            Rather than go back out to the main part of the vessel for dinner, they had a light repast in their galley, and all of them, even Dr. Smith, went on a tribble hunt, trying to collect all they could.

            By bedtime the ever‑hungry tribbles they had missed came out of hiding and were beginning to clutter up the deck again.  Locking up the ship tight, John gave orders for any wandering tribbles to be tossed into a large container until morning.

            When Don got up for a midnight drink of water, he found the whole galley covered in rocking, purring patches of fur.  Judy heard his groan and came out to investigate.  She gasped at the sight of the mobile mass of hair and shuddered.  There tribbles on the consoles, covering the seats, on top of equipment, scattered in large patches on the deck, crowded around the doors to the cabins.  In short, tribbles were everywhere.

            “Oh, Don, what are we going to do with them?” she asked in horror.

                “Tomorrow?  I don’t know.  But I can tell you what I plan to do with them right now!”

*****