Nick Neercassel and the Benign Empire

Where No TPE Has Gone Before

Unconsciousness is a hoot. I was out for three days but it felt like no more than an hour. There was no real reason for me to be unconscious for three days. It wasn't like I was seriously injured. Heck, I wasn't injured at all. The plane/drone, after all, had missed me. Got a little prairie dirt on my pants, but besides that, I was as good as new. Except for being incredibly tired. Wonder why I had been so tired?

Hi, I'm Nick Neercassel, Theological Private Eye (TPE), i.e., I'm in the employ of the Shogun of Sirius and Sundry Stars. The pay is at the bottom of the barrel, the hours are close to infinite, but I'll stack up our retirement village with the one Bill Gates is planning.

Sleeping for three days will work up an appetite. My octogenarian host, Claude, had anticipated that and had a buffet fit for a king laid out on a picnic table in what appeared to be the main room. Since we were underground, I couldn't look out the windows to see if it was day or night. While we were eating Claude introduced me to two other LAers: Dala, who was dressed like she was on safari, and a Professor Zukuni, who immediately forgot my name as soon as I informed him of it.

Between mouthfuls, I asked Claude, "What is LA?"

Claude looking amused, replied, "It would probably be easier to you tell what LA isn't instead of what it is."

"Well, I prefer the what it is, not the what it isn't."

"For starters, LA is the Benign Empire."

"What does that mean."

"It means we never attack first."

"How about retaliation?"

"We do retaliate but never in a way the enemy expects."

"So you do have enemies?"

"Oh, yes, many; and some of them are not of this world. In fact, you'll be visiting one soon."

I guess I should have been surprised at that remark but somehow I wasn't. My suspicions were confirmed when after the meal we walked over to a very large room with a very high ceiling. In the middle of the room was (how do I describe this?)what looked like a short stubby pencil coated in tin. It  looked just big enough to hold three people.

Oh, oh.

"Now, Claude, you're not about to tell me what I think you're about to tell me."

"Afraid so, Nick. We need you, Dala, and the Prof to mount a rescue mission."

"Don't you mean a suicide mission?"

"The Lunar Albatross may look a little shaky but it's a sturdy, reliable spacecraft."

Spacecraft? This was going to be even more dangerous than I thought.

"Where are we going?"

"There's a small satellite in juxtaposition with the Dark Side of the Moon. It can never be seen from Earth and because of some highly technical devices cannot be detected either."

"What is our mission?"

"To rescue and reclaim Sir Alexander Thomson from Rene' the Relentless."

THE END