Canto 10 – Planetfall
Once back at the docking port on Frieda, Ged noticed that the new space ship Goofy had asked Frieda to make was gone. His concern spiked like an EKG from a surviving victim of electrocution.
“Calm down, Ged,” soothed Ham. “Goofy is unpredictable, but he hasn’t gotten me killed yet.”
“You know what he’s doing, don’t you?”
“What?”
“He’s going after those artifacts the alien computer was talking about.”
“So?”
“Ham! Ancient devices with unfathomable powers? In the hands of a pyromaniac and lunatic? Don’t you see what comes next?”
“Well,” said Ham, looking down at his spaceship controls, “I do kinda see a disaster looming, if that’s what you mean.”
“Exactly what I mean!”
“Oi believes ye need to track yer shipmate down, what?” offered Sinbadh.
In minutes the Leaping Shadowcat was docked and the three teammates were aboard Frieda. In the main control room, they found the Nebulon Princess in a red jumpsuit, her small son sitting on the floor at her feet. She smiled beautifully at Ham as the two brothers entered the room.
“I… am… free…” she announced in halting, yet clear Galactic English.
“Ah… Good,” said Ged. “Goofy at least started the task I set him.”
“I… am… love…” added the Princess cryptically, moving directly toward Ham.
“Err… What?” stammered Ham.
“Oi thinks ye have an admirer, me bucko!” said Sinbadh helpfully.
The Princess reached up to touch one of Ham’s blond curls. “Nebulonin?” she cooed.
“Wha…? No. Human! Definitely Earther. I just have yellow hair.” Ham pinched the skin on the back of his right hand. “See, no blue!”
“Yes, blue…” she said smiling.
“Oh, what does that mean?” Ham blushed furiously.
“Your Nebulon slave girl has been set free by Trav,” supplied Frieda. “She means she is grateful. Your on-board library suggests she suffers from something called Stockholm Syndrome. She believes she is in love with you because you were her captors, but have been nice to her. She was apparently violated numerous times by those who held her hostage in the Imperium.”
“Erm, thank you, Frieda.” Ham said.
“Frieda,” said Ged, as if he had at that moment realized something, “Where did Trav Dalgoda go?”
“I supplied him with coordinates to find the Hammer on the surface of the planet. He went down there to find it.”
“I knew it!” swore Ged. “We have to beat him to the thing! Come on, guys! We go now!”
“Can we leave the Princess here?” asked Ham nervously as the Nebulon girl looked at him lovingly.
“Sinbadh? Can we trust that your corsair friends won’t come back?”
“Nah. Them buccaneers is moighty unpredictable like.”
“Everybody goes aboard the Shadowcat, then,” said Ged.
“Dang!” swore Ham as the Nebulon Princess took one hand, and her little boy took hold of the other.
And, of course, I have hoarding disorder so bad that I can’t resist starting new collections of dolls when toy-makers are putting out the new stuff at Christmas, even though the Princess has thoroughly outgrown dolls. And I am not alone in having hoarding disorder. While we were cleaning bedrooms, my daughter found a fluffy rug that would be perfect for the bathroom. But no. My wife is saving it. It has to stay folded and put away where it won’t get dirty. We have closets stuffed full of clothing and other stuff that is rarely or never used. And I do not dare throw any of it out or move it to anyplace else. I can move my stuff, not hers.
‘There are dolls everywhere in my room, so any attempt to clean starts with picking them up off the floor and putting them somewhere safer. These four are now living behind the TV. I just wish they would stay put for a while and quit leaping off shelves when they come alive after midnight every night.
Homely People
I prefer to write about, think about, and draw pictures of homely people. But don’t mistake me. I am not talking about ugly people. Our President, the giant blood sausage with a bird’s nest on top that we have put in charge of making us all feel sick to our stomachs every day, demonstrates what ugly means. Ugly is not just weird and interesting to look at, it is also repellent behavior that makes physical flaws take a back seat… no, a rumble seat in the trailer behind by comparison.
I am talking about the ordinary people back home. The ones that may be sitting by your own fireplace on a cold day trying to warm their hands after throwing snowballs outside. And, of course, that snowball that hit Maggie Doozman in the side of the face and knocked her glasses off, made you laugh for an instant, until you realized she was crying, and Kirk Longhatter didn’t even apologize for throwing so hard, so you went over and picked her glasses up for her and handed them to her, and she smiled at you through the tears. That is the kind of homely I mean.
There is a lot that is beautiful in homely people. Sure, maybe not a classically beautiful Elizabeth Taylor face or a Gregory Peck lantern jaw. Maybe not even a shapely behind or a graceful step when walking across the street. But ordinary beauty. Kindness. Humility. Determination in the face of long odds. Good-natured jokery. A touch of childish silliness. A moon face that actually shines when a smile lights it up. That is beauty that can be found in homely people.
You’ve probably figured out by now that this post is just an excuse to show off some goofy old off-kilter portraits I did. But that doesn’t change the fact. I do love homely people.
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