Secondhand UFO Dealers, a character study that isn’t funny enough and goes on too long (sorry)

“She takes to the eye, doesn’t she?” Mesculous insinuated himself into the visiting being’s line of sight, allowing a flecklet of slime to sink lovingly down the curvature of his conventionally de-boned chin. He was an orthodox member of his species, a Revulse.

“She certainly does. May I try the horn?”

“Certainly. Quelplax, grey gentleman would like to explore the ‘orn.”

“The horn? Oh, yes, certainly, sir.” BLAAAARRRRRR!

“Ouch, trumpets from the sky.”

“Of course sound doesn’t work in a vacuum of outer space but it should give any surface dwellers fair warning when you void the sewage tanks.” Quelplax then broke out his interesting collection of eyes, which appealed for approval.

“Beautiful tone, mellow, more mellow than anything”, Mesculous added in a voice that practically lounged on its own sofa. “That will make everyone look up in admiration to you.”

The customer pressed again. “Oh. I think it’s broken. When I try it again, um, nothing happens.”

“Ah. I’ve got a temporary quantum reverberation flex in there. It’s not really wired for excessive use”, Quelplax improvised desperately as it came away in the suction cup that passed for his hand.

“Yes, yes, one of the old-type of exhaustible sound/consciousness modulators. Runs on the helical friction principle”, oozed Mesculous with the confidence of one who changed his patter to match the category of customer.

“Friction? I thought these interstellar ships were meant to be totally frictionless?”

Mesculous was never phased by these non-fluidic life forms. “Too complicated to explain. I mean either you know, or you don’t. D’you see?” He retained his moistness, unmissably reflecting an adjacent showcase of dink-fronds. These exquisite moulds laced the air with a natural soporific which made carbon-based beings increasingly open to suggestion the longer they stayed in the podule, but Mesculous assumed he wouldn’t need any help with this mechanically negligible customer.

“Is she fast?”

“Is she fast? Timed around the Pleiades cluster at 112.73 astronomical units per diurnal cycle. Yours truly at the holowheel.” The reassuring, consolidating effect of Quelplax’s lies was improving. Mesculous nodded to him as of one professional to another.

“Which planet’s diurnal cycle. I mean, Proxima Centauri B is tidal locked so the diurnal cycle could be, I mean, forever. Couldn’t it?”

“And I flew her from the gravity well of Barnard’s Star to Llanfairpwllgwyngyll, Anglesey in under 2 dozen Wendelian birth cycles. That’s an average of over 7 light years per.”

“Oh, but that’s impossible! I met one wanker who said he did the Kessel Run in…”

“Not with the four-warp chamber Singularitymobile, twin OHC”, Quelplax infused.

“What does the OHC stand for?”

Mesculous slid in effortlessly. “Oxygen, hydrogen and… what does the C stand for, Quelplax?”

“Cattle, Mr M.”

“Cattle? That’s cows, isn’t it. What’s biological life doing in the engine?”

“All life in the Universe is interconnected, which you already know, as an educated species. In a consciousness relay supplemented with element 115, you have to top it up with some consciousness every once in a while. It doesn’t have to be skin-on, just the brain and central nervous system will do.”

“Oh, I see, or I don’t really. Doesn’t element 115 vanish instantly?”

“Look at the sleek sweep and shimmer of the outer shell”, Quelplax intertwined with his leader. “Only the best nanocoatings. It’s a fully probe ready vehicle.”

The customer stooped down easily on spongey hip hinges to peer underneath. “There’s a rupture! I’m not buying that.”

“Dear oh dear” eased Mesculous. “That’s not a rupture. That’s by far the latest thing, an underfloor coupling and recharging port compatible with the cutting edge energy exchangers at the Barnard Star Interplanetary Marina.”

“I see. Well, I suppose that place is pretty swish, so they would know what they were doing.”

Quelplax leapt back in, tail flap visible only for a second. “Only the most cutting edge saucers have a big slice out like that. It empowers the residual coolants through reentry.”

“Got it but are you sure it isn’t chop and shut?”

“Chop and shut? Sir is most amusing. It’s a vent, a symbolic nod to…”, Mesculous stumbled.

“Lifestyle, Mr M.”, Quelplax conjoined with the coup de grace.

“Yes, lifestyle. That’s what it’s all about, surely?”

Quelplax wasn’t done. “The pioneers of hemispherical plasma chambers, those wonderful, wonderful silica-based lifeforms to which we owe so much. Name me one manufacturer what brought it out previous.”

“Oh, well, I don’t really know. What year is she?”

Mesculous scoffed as pleasantly as only a secondhand UFO dealer can. “With this sort of saucer, age is of no account. Between you and me, she’s a little late for my taste. If I didn’t know the ship, I’d have my doubts.”

“How about spare parts?”

“Ha ha ha. Spares? You never need them, my gelatinous friend. With these metamaterials, they grow back even better.” Mesculous leaned toward the background fronds and tickled them.

“How?”

“You don’t need to worry your… is this your head? Good to know I was speaking to the correct appendage. The truth remains, it’s all quantum, elusive. The pilot doesn’t need to know how the magic works, just to recline and enjoy the ride.” Mesculous was pleased with his part in this little dance.

“Is the company still in existence?”

“The entire lifeform went out of business because they were too good. You’d never find this kind of quality in a species that survived the galactic depression. Not to mention all that supernova unpleasantness.”

“Supernova? I don’t like the sound of that.”

“Only the best of their ships could outrun it — and here we are. When the manufacturer is wiped out, it’s a recognition of quality. You have the epitome of their astrospace investment parked right before your disbelieving eyes. We are so, so lucky.”

“Yes, I suppose we could be. I was toying with the idea of buying a new Tic-Tac or maybe even one of those flashy triangular things.”

“A Triganaught? Flashy, yes, too many lamps. Can’t get them into this spiral arm, my friend because of the uh, geometry regulations. You need to go all the way out to Ringworld and how are you going to do that without a saucer? Let me advise you sympathetically, as a real, meaningful friend. The Tic-Tac’s a good motor, if you have Tic-Tac mechanics around, but is it worth the hard currency you have to lay out? No! How do you keep it clean with all those… corners? Now, with the dear old Saucermobile, she may lose a few inches in sheer getaway, but open her up on the great Ort Cloud and you have that lovely, soothing, groaning roar that will… how can I call it? That swish of vacuum, that beautiful gentle shriek of the early type high-point bevel transmission.”

Quelplax had by now fully inflated his vocal bag and spoke again. “What my colleague is saying is, when you drive her, you know she’s there. I mean, take that virtual gearbox. You get the coarse rasp or perfection as you change down, then the familiar deep-throated straining grind as you bank away from the ranch and through the cloud cover.”

“What ranch? Are you telling me again it runs on cattle?”

“Just the soft parts, now and then, and some of the sticky red stuff for lubricant. And another real wonder, the 30G brake has been adjusted really hard…”

“Not hard, Quelplax, solid”, Mesculous corrected.

“You’re right, Mr M. A really solid flyer, in or out of any atmosphere. No contrails.”

“How does she perform in landings?”

“You don’t want to bother with that, sir. You just find some way-out place with hardly anyone around and simply slide down the light-shute.”

“Slide?”

“The locals love to watch a bit of that. Drop out of the hole in the bottom. Elegant, sir, an elegant means of travel reminiscent of a bygone age. Arrested momentum. Not completely arrested, ha ha, or you’d be stuck. More… cautioned momentum.” Quelplax appeared satisfied again.

“I see. And when I see native lifeforms, what do I do?”

“Press the button here so the pictures on their phones go really, really fuzzy. That’s my advice — and be weird, sir. They like a bit of that. Draw them some pictograms and in no time at all they’ll be worshipping you, putting up funny pyramids and inventing the meme.”

“Why on Speggleglassum would they do that?”

“Who knows, sir. Indigenous cultures are a mystery to me. Really… kind of alien.”

“What are you asking for her?”

“Dirt cheap, a bloomin’ sacrifice, sir.”

“Can’t be repeated”, Mesculous added.

“Property of a timelord.”

“Which timelord was that?”

“Ah, which timelord the gentleman asks. Quelplax will have a note of that somewhere.”

“Fawzigadore-bdore-bdore, nephew of the sundiver. He won’t be back for it.”

“Erm, what are you asking for her?”

“We had new quark drives fitted to compensate for all the affectionate little…” Mesculous noticed the customer feeling around the hull and reached to steer whatever limb that was away.

“Bumps? It has an inconsistent surface.”

Quelplax resumed. “Yes, but it took an act of genius to cram it all in, sir. The mechanisms in this craft are too modern, too flashy to fit the foundational physical understanding of crevices, so they had to…”

“Force them?”

“Sir, true craftspeople in the spacecraft industry wouldn’t be able to hold their heads up if they cut corners by beaming stuff about all the time. It isn’t done. It’s insulting. Think of their sensibilities. Look at the stuff that’s gone into that, that sheer starstressed metal. That’s art, if you ask me.”

“Star-tempered, Quelplax. Polished, honed and fully knocked-in, like any object value. It’s like a temple statue, it’s face polished by the buts of thousands of worshippers, all rubbing it for luck. They are gone but she is still here, so maybe the luck really becomes apparent when you are inside, eh? The oneness of the whole can be considered to be more important than the indivisible congress of parts? Am I wrong?”

“No. Yes, but what are you asking for her?”

“We’re just getting down to that. Actually, we’re selling this particular flying saucer at a loss.” Mesculous exuded a stern expression and regarded the shop floor as if bested.

Quelplax appeared equally affected. “We spent 750 Altarian dollars on her, you see, and that was when an Altarian dollar was worth something.”

“Right, how long have you had it in your showroom?”

“Quelplax, you’re giving the grey gentleman the wrong impression. It came through a wormhole, forward temporal displacement, if you want the technical term, so that’s an added bonus for you of five hundred thousand light years off what you read on the clock. An old saucer at a new price. We can’t say fairer than that, can we?” Parts of Mesculous sensed the need to hang on just a little longer.

“Oh, but that means…”

“Not necessarily.”

“We like our classic ships going to good homes, unabandonable like Sagittarian glowdogs. So we’re prepared to sell at the ridiculous figure of… 725 adjusted Altarian currency units.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly.”

“715 then.”

“I mean that’s less than you paid.”

“Ah, you’re weakening, you’ve fallen in love with her, like we did at the start, remember Quelplax?

“Remember? Oh ho ho ho”, Quelplax answered, unsure if that call and return was up to spec.

“Well…”

“Well?”

“Is it resistant to lasers?”

“Who needs it to be resistant to lasers? You out-run them. Light speed — you’ll laugh at it. Okay, 695 and that’s rock bottom.”

“Which it looks like this saucer might have already hit.” The customer stood on his rights, then felt a tingle and stumbled off them.

“Super compression chamber, sir”, Quelplax advised, taking advantage of the pause. “Helps you adjust to the gravities of all those far flung worlds of adventure.”

“Still, what do I know about spaceships? I’ve just emerged from the meltwater. All right. I’ll take her.”

“Done! Start the plasma-squanderer up for the gent, Quelplax.”

“Absolutely”, Quelplax creamed and indicated a point on the sales contract. “Take the financial safeguards off the transaction app, if you wouldn’t mind, sir. They just confuse the algorithm.”

“Today’s date?”

“Porroswail, in the high season at the moment so you could write Bagquit Klum. It means the same thing.”

“Hmm? Oh, yes. I forgot this base conformed to the conceptual calendar in this star system instead of digital.”

“Ah, metric base 10 is old hat, for underdeveloped civilisations and here only the legal system. There we are. My stylus, I think.”

“Thank you very much.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Well, she’s all yours.”

“What about the star log?”

“Ah… We’ll forward the data brick to you when we locate it. Here’s the manual notebook. Hop in.”

“Oh, thank you, but It’s blank. Is this the right one?”

“Now, there is one important point to remember. Don’t hang on to the joystick after you’ve changed down from Faster Than Light to kinetic. She is liable to kick back in enjoyment. Don’t worry about your exhaust zapping out some argon, or the fumes freezing instantly in the vacuum of space and coating the window. It’s quite normal and nothing to worry about. This is the transmedium feature, so you can fly into any liquid to wash that feldercarb away”, mused Quelplax, nodding once more to Mesculous. Soon, he would be the master.

“And when you apply the foot brake, sir, it is advisable to apply the handbrake as well or the arrested momentum doesn’t equalise predictably in these high performance models.” Mesculous clearly knew his stuff.

Quelplax had more to offer. “Stopping will make you feel a bit… stringy. Some of our customers like it and return, year after year, enquiring about that feature because, when it comes down to hydrozenon tacks, who likes tranquillity? You don’t know you’re operating the thing. It’s like all those childish orbs running about backward planets on autopilot.”

“Return? Hang on. Why would they need to buy another one every year?”

“To gift a saucer their jealous friends, sir. You’ll soon see it sir. They go green. Except for the ones who are green already. They do it to let more owners experience how smashing a model like this can be.”

“Are these saucers famous for being smashing then?”

“Oh, yes sir. Have you heard of a blue-green water planet near the star Sol and a little place in the middle of nowhere called Roswell?”

“No. I’ve never visited that quadrant. Should I have? Blue-green water doesn’t sound very appealing.”

“Good, good, excellent — and the flooring works on the melding pivot principle. It’s liable to give you a scare as it bungs upward on landing, when you’re not used to it, so try not to land unless you have to. One customer said she went to a nowhere place called Rendlesham to pick up mushrooms and thought she’d landed on a log. When she got out to check the damage, suddenly there were all these horrendous primates waving flashlights around for no reason at all. Such a pity when you’ve come so far.”

“Well, thank you both very much indeed. I’d been told your species were… I think the phrase was cheeky blighters. I’m glad it’s not true.”

“Loveable, we prefer to think. Bon voyage, little wobbly man! Remember, pass pulsars on your left and keep a weather eye out for comets. If you ever get short of star fuel, signal for a Oumuamua to come around. They’re quite regular.”

“See you again lads!”

“You might, sir. It’s a big galaxy. Follow the trail of customers beating their way to our hangar door. No, we’ll say to them, no, the gentleman has already purchased it. Make him an offer, but you’d better pay double, triple even. Unique it was! The only one of its kind still flying in the Milky Way. Goodbye!”

“Run before he comes back, Quelplax.”

“You read my mind, Mr M. Who needs telepsychic helmets?”