12.
 As the Inspector screamed on and on, Mars’s gaze roved toward the fireplace. There, standing shyly to one side, was the Assistant Inspector. He seemed to Mars a truly hapless and gullible man. He was a little guy with thick glasses and baggy clothing. His black shoes and white socks had Nerd written all over them. He had probably never combed his bushy, dirty-looking brown hair in his life.
Pretty soon the Inspector genuflected on the rug, pounding it continuously with his fist; spittle flew as he made his point.
Mars continued to stare at the Assistant Inspector (a one-tooter). At the moment, Cerberus chewed on the Assistant Inspector’s trouser leg, and the Assistant Inspector tried to pull his leg away without making the dog angrier or attracting embarrassing attention to himself.
As the Inspector jumped up and ran around the room, tearing down tapestries and smashing irreplaceable ancient Mediterranean vases, he continuing to scream about the rules and the regulations and the instructions and the policies and the guidance books and the laws... Mars’ head began to loll. He was already deep in trouble, and had nothing to lose. He couldn’t take much more of this. Jaw jutting as befitted an ex-CLF officer, he rose and sidled toward the fireplace. On the way, he took a beer bottle from a cooler and tore the bottle-top off with his teeth.
The Inspector, meanwhile, was on all fours by now. He screamed and foamed at the mouth as he chewed on the edge of a carpet.
Mars put one huge hand on the back of the Assistant Inspector’s neck. Cerberus looked up from the trouser leg and growled. Mars growled back, and Cerberus slunk away with his tail between his legs.
“Hello,” said the Assistant Inspector in a frightened little voice. He tried to wriggle away, but Mars put his thumb on the little fellow’s wind pipe and his fingers around his neck. Mars swilled down the whole beer in one swallow, set the bottle aside, and belched in the Assistant Inspector’s face. As the Assistant Inspector grew weak and rolled his eyes up, preparing to faint from the onslaught of Mars’ sudsy breath, Mars said: “What’s your name, boy?”
The Assistant Inspector moved his mouth. His eyes were terrified and no sound came from his lips.
Mars tightened his grip and shook. “I can’t hear you, boy.”
The Assistant Inspector stammered out his name.
“A-hah!” Mars said. “Well, I think you and I and the rest of my companions can do business. We admire a guy like you.” He pointed to the Inspector, who now lay on his back, pounding his chest with his fists and kicking his legs while shouting profanities. “How much longer can you put up with that?”
“N-not much longer, sir,” stammered the Assistant Inspector.
“Well I have an idea,” Mars said. The plot was already thickening in his mind as he began to tell it to his pliable victim. It had to succeed! They must win! Their reign of pleasure would go on forever!
And thus it was that Mars said to the Assistant Inspector, whose eyes lit up: “How would you like to become captain of this entire space ship, Lucifer?”
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Copyright © 2018 by Jean-Thomas Cullen, Clocktower Books. All Rights Reserved.
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