Judson Scott - "Friday the 13th"

The Phoenix

FRIDAY THE 13th

byRichard Kaplan

Bennu woke up not in the best of spirits. True, he did manage a thin smile when he noticed the date. He was well aware of the seriousness with which some Earth people took the calendrical combination of the day of the week and the day of the month, but no Adult is superstitious, and Friday the 13th was one problem he didn't have to deal with!

Good thing, too. He just wasn't himself this last week - why, yesterday, he'd been carefully obeying the traffic signals before starting to cross a street and been nearly struck by a car. The driver had had his mind on something far removed from operating a motor vehicle, so Bennu didn't even have a telepathic warning - just the blaring of a horn as the car flashed by him. He'd responded most Immaturely by replying with a very rude finger signal!

Had he ever read a dictionary of American slang, he would have used the term "burned out" to describe himself, but his problem was obvious to him. Nothing he did ever went right.

Why, he'd had to break out of jail because a murderer tried to, as the expression seemed to be, "frame" him - interesting image - for the crime and his medallion had been taken away, been caught in a deliberately set fire, been shot at so many times he was worried about somebody getting lucky, had any number of fights with Yago, one nearly fatal - Premminger, of all people, had saved his life that time! ...

To say nothing of things that started out well enough but went bad. He'd gotten a job with a vet, saving a cow and her calf in the process, and had the PLANET try to kill him! Whatever pleasure he might have gotten from an encounter with mind-altering substances was spoiled by Yago. He had had one single purely pleasurable adventure - a most unusual sexual experience - and THAT, for obvious reasons, was never going to be repeated.

Finally, just the previous Friday, he'd been minding his own business looking for Mira and found himself caught in the middle of a gunfight - with automatic weapons, no less! He'd managed to not be shot at that time, only to barely escape being blown up.

Bennu, though he had no interest in watching them, knew what a "soap opera" was. He had even less interest in being the unwitting "star" of one, and he was really beginning to wonder about his life!

Being Mature doesn't mean that one is "all work and no play", so Eldebranis enjoyed their fun as much as any race. Bennu had been getting far too much "work" - and aggravation - and far too little "play". There was a combination psychic/New Age fair a reasonable bus-ride away, and he decided to go.

It should be fun, he could judge the strength of Earth's Sensitives, perhaps an Earth Healer could help him, and he should be left undisturbed. His mind ought to be inconspicuous to Yago amidst all the others, and it was about the last place to find Premminger!

Bennu stood outside the fair entrance gauging the general level of psychic activity. For a supposed gathering of the Talented, it was disappointingly low. Oh, well, nothing to do but to try. He paid his admission and began visiting booths. It went surprisingly fast. Far too many were manned by people with little or no Talent and could be skipped. That was worse than it sounded - those with genuine Talent should have been aware of them, and if they weren't - or didn't care - Earth was in worse shape than Bennu wanted to believe. Others, such as seances and Ouija boards, were too likely to attract Yago if they worked!

Sure, there were a fair number of booth holders with genuine Talents, although few of them had much idea of the strength of them. How could a whole planet full of humans be so out of touch with their inner selves? Perhaps that explained much.

Of course, not everybody was inept. He tried a palm reader principally because the man had a surprising amount of Talent, though he was curious about what sort of a reading he, as an alien, would get.

Reader: "How odd. The whole center of your life line is chained. I'd say you'd been in a coma for much of your life, but you look too young - and in much too good a shape physically - for that to be true. And the lines to your fingers - the planets - are weird!" (Bennu could understand that one. His solar system was not, by any means, a perfect match for Earth's!) "And this birthmark - a tiny circle with rays - surely is a star."

The reader grabbed Bennu's other hand. "Why, it's on both hands! That's no birthmark!"

Bennu: "I've been called a Child of the Sun."

Reader: "No doubt, but which one? An honest reading would be that you are an alien who has spent most of the journey here in hibernation."

Bennu smiled. "Something like that. You have much more Talent than you think. Develop it - this planet needs people like you!" He walked away, leaving the reader doubting his sanity - but starting to believe in his Abilities.

Channellers using crystals were, by far, the most likely to have both Talent and to have developed it. Though he found none who could help him, he did find a "Stella Light" whose Sensitivity was strong enough for them to have a telepathic conversation. She, at least, understood much about him and his Healing talent - and the Power in his medallion - and he genuinely enjoyed the relaxing "conversation."

It was a hot, humid day, and Bennu was getting ready to give up. A tarot reader would be his last stop, so he found one with a reasonable amount of Talent. They went through the Rituals of Reading, such as shuffling and tapping the deck, and the reader dealt the cards.

The reading was accurate, though vague: "You search for something hidden. A great Evil pursues you. I see a woman in your life - not a lover or a relative. She is very important to you." OK, as far as it went. But then: "An enemy approaches. I see captivity."

Bennu burst out laughing. "I have such an enemy, but he would never seek me here!"

Laugh at your own risk, Bennu.

It had all started, most unpeacefully enough, last Friday. Premminger, despite also almost being blown up, was so determined to continue pursuing Bennu that the BATF agents he was with reported him to his superior as being definitely obsessed and probably unstable. Premminger's superiors took the report seriously.

So, when Premminger phoned in, he was told to report in promptly on Monday. Naturally, he obeyed orders. The following conversation took place.

Supervisor: "Justin, we've had disturbing reports on your recent conduct from reliable observers. Did you really try to go back to Redman's Flat after Bennu while the place was still blowing up?"

Premminger: "I thought it was safe - obviously I was wrong - and I was just trying to do my job."

Supervisor: "We feel you're trying a little too hard. Justin, give it a rest. Take a week off - with pay - and go someplace - any place - away from Indian sites. Give me your gun and take these." He handed Premminger a box of powerful tranquilizers.

Premminger (paling): "Sir, I'm fine. Maybe a little overeager -"

Supervisor: "Justin, we're not replacing you. You leave Bennu alone for a week and we'll leave him alone. It's not like he's a terrorist or a spy, you know."

Premminger (bitterly): "Just an alien, or so I've been told."

Supervisor: "Justin, do as you're told and the Agency doctors assure me you'll be ready to go Bennu-hunting by next Monday."

Premminger wound up in sunny California. He had to admit that his supervisor might have been right - even about the pills, and Premminger normally reguarded tranquilizers as a sign of weakness. By the end of the week, he was feeling much better! No nightmares - not even from Yago - no worries, no cares - NO WONDER! The Agency doctor didn't like him any more than most people did, and had subconsciously written a prescription for a dosage several times what he intended. Premminger was in a tranquilized state of bliss.

He was aware that it was Friday the 13th, but he was no more superstitious than Bennu, and simply went about the day's activities. It was indeed hot and humid, and he felt the desire for a beer. He never abused alcohol, of course, but there was no reason to be a teetotaler, and he was on vacation - an ordered one, no less.

He found a local tavern, stepped up to the bar, and ordered a cold one. The combination of tranquilizers and alcohol can be dangerous, but he was too stoned to remember that. One of the safer possible effects is a near-instant "drunkenness," and Premminger was blitzed. He began telling the bartender his life story while he worked on his second. The bartender took an instant dislike to him and began telling him where to go - either "get lost" or to a local psychic fair to find help for himself.

So Premminger did. He found himself standing in front of a tarot card reader's booth just as the reader finished. He gave a blurry-visioned stare at the reader's client. Bennu??

Premminger: "Hey, Bennu, look who's here. Gotcha!"

Bennu stared in disbelief, first at Premminger, then at the card reader.

Premminger reached for his gun. Naturally, he couldn't find it - it was nearly a full continent away. "Now where is my gun?" Pat, pat, pat. "Gun, gun, gun, where are you?"

Premminger: "Bennu, I'm sorry, but I seem to have misplaced my gun. Will you let me capture you anyway?"

Bennu stared in amazement at his adversary, who was obviously - and unbelievably - under the influence of drugs. He pretended to give it some thought. "Nnnnno!"

Premminger: "Spoilsport! Heck with it, let's go have a beer."

Bennu gave the matter consideration. He'd never tried beer yet, but it was supposed to taste very good when one was hot and thirsty. One certainly couldn't hurt him, and after all, he was on vacation. And Premminger certainly wasn't a threat. "Yeah, sure, why not?"

Soon they found themselves facing each other across a booth in a local bar. They each bought one and settled in. Bennu had to agree with the reports - beer did taste good! He decided to play the "drunk game" - that is, use his telepathy to "read" the intoxicated state of Premminger. All he had to do to instantly sober up was to cut the link, and there were no "hangovers" to worry about, either.

Premminger got maudlin and began complaining to Bennu about all the troubles he'd had since he'd taken the assignment. "It all started when I just missed getting you because you'd broken out of jail. Then I nearly got run off the road by a truck!"

Bennu: "I was in that truck!"

Premminger: "Let's see - some hick in a dump of a farm town - Smithville, I think - threatened me with a shotgun."

Bennu: "Smithburg. You think you had troubles. After saving a cow and her calf I almost got killed by a tornado! UGH!"

Premminger: "The next one, I think, was at a hippie get-together. Next thing I remember, it was several hours later and I was decked out in full flower child garb. Had the darndest time convincing people I was a government agent. What did they do to me?"

Bennu: "They said they gave you a large dose of mind-altering drugs."

Premminger: "Oh. Anyway, there was that whatever - the time I let you go. What on Earth possessed me?"

Bennu: "Yago"

Premminger: "So you said. No, I meant 'to let you go.'"

Bennu: "Some shred of humanity?"

Premminger: "Some shred of human weakness, you mean. Then there was that witch doctor. Can you imagine - he said he put a curse on me? Why do people act the way they do? You, they help escape -"

"That's nice to know" Bennu interrupted.

Premminger: "- Me they do all of these awful things to."

Bennu: "I help people, so they're grateful and try to help me. You threaten and bully people and act like a nasty, arrogant son-of-a-dog -"

Premminger corrected him. "It works sometimes. And it's too much effort to go around being a Boy Scout." (Bennu got the blurry impression of the members of a youth group, who went around helping little old ladies cross the street - Bennu could appreciate THAT! - and bandaging hurt animals.) "I like the way I am."

Bennu made a face. Then he took his medallion out and checked Premminger over superficially. "Osiron wasn't kidding. He did put one on you. Not a very strong one, though. Want me to remove it?"

Premminger: "Sure, why not?"

Both of them were far enough out of it to actually be having this conversation in public. But when Bennu actually Lit his medallion to lift the curse ... Justin Premminger was not at all bad-looking, and the two of them had attracted enough stares as it was. Though their relationship was obviously being misconstrued by many at the bar, realistically, who - aside from a few at the psychic fair - could have gotten it right?

Premminger: "Finally, last Friday, I got a ride up to Redman's Flat with a couple of BATF agents who were raiding a white supremacist group's weapons depot. They say you saved my life - shot the weapon out of somebody's hand. I thought you didn't have a gun."

Bennu held up his medallion. "I had no idea you were the target. Not that it would have made any difference."

Premminger: "Boy Scout! And then I almost got blown up."

Bennu: "You and me both."

Premminger: "And I was so eager to continue chasing you that the agents reported me to my superiors and I was ordered to take a week's vacation. Wound up here. No Indian sites."

Bennu: "My feelings exactly. But how did you wind up at a psychic fair, of all places?"

Premminger: "Oh, I stopped at a bar for a few beers and the bartender told me where to go - for help."

Bennu (raising his voice): "Don't look at me. You keep refusing my offers."

Premminger (also raising his): "You want to help me, let me capture you. I'm getting tired of what happens to me every time I try."

Bennu: "So stop."

Premminger: "I can't - I have a job to do!"

Bennu (quite loudly): "So do I, and, frankly, you're a big pain in the -" My, my, Bennu had been learning English! "Oops, excuse me, gotta go to the bathroom. Off to the loo, back in a few." He was rather proud of that little verse he'd just made up.

While Bennu was away, Premminger decided he wanted another beer. The bartender decided that he'd had enough and said no. Premminger pulled out his badge and said: "Who are you to refuse to serve a Federal agent?"

Bartender: "The bartender, and in this place, that outranks you. Either sit down and be quiet or leave!"

It may be difficult to understand how somebody as tranquillized as Premminger could still get nasty, but never underestimate him! Bennu, finishing up in the bathroom, noticed the change in mood and decided to quit the drunk game. Breaking the link, he re-entered the bar.

Bartender (to Bennu): "Better take your boyfriend home before I have to call the cops."

Bennu (waving a hand in dismissal): "You can keep him," walked out of the bar and into the crowd. So much for Friday the 13th! The day had ended quite pleasantly for him - though after that stunt he'd pulled with his medallion, he appreciated the trouble drugs could cause!

Meanwhile, Premminger exploded: "BOY friend? What do you think I am, queer? He's supposed to be an escaped alien from outer space. I had him recaptured, but I lost my gun and he wouldn't cooperate."

The bartender, thinking "What is it about Friday the 13th that brings out all the nuts?" called the cops.

Since Premminger kept insisting that he was a Federal agent, and seemed to have the proper credentials, after booking him, the cops DID call the Agency.

Cop: "You got a Justin Premminger working for you?"

Agent: "Why?"

Cop: "He's been arrested for drunk and disorderly and is being held for a psych exam. Something about aliens from space."

Hearing that, the agent transferred the call to the right department.

Cop: "Premminger isn't gay, is he?"

Supervisor: "Good Lord, no. WHY?"

Cop: "The bartender thinks he was having a lover's quarrel with a tall blond. Guy was wearing some sort of trick medallion that lit up. Sound like anybody you know?"

Supervisor: "Yes, although I can't imagine either of them becoming intoxicated. Maybe there is something to this Friday the 13th business, after all. Just put him in the infirmary and keep an eye on him for us - we'll pick him up. And hang onto that blond if you've got him."

Cop: "We don't - he was long gone by the time we showed up. Why?"

Supervisor: "Oh, never mind."

Bright and early Monday morning the Agency sprung Premminger, explained that his apparent intoxication was probably due to an interaction of a small amount of alcohol with the tranquillizers he'd been ordered to take, and got the charges dropped.

When he arrived back in Washington, his superior tried to question him. Premminger tried to cooperate, but he was still fairly well tranquillized. He related Friday's events as best he could remember, interrupting the narration with silly grins, giggles, and brief bouts of sleep.

Obviously, something was screwy, and the doctor was called in. He couldn't understand it either, until he picked up the nearly empty bottle of pills and noticed the dosage ...

Supervisor: "But what do we do with him?"

Doctor: "Put him in the infirmary until the drug wears off - probably towards the end of the week."

Supervisor: "And how will you know when he's OK?"

Doctor: "I've seen better personalities on gorillas with gout. When the nurses start threatening to quit, he's back to normal."

And so it came to pass. By Thursday, several of them had given an "either he goes or we do" ultimatum, and he was discharged as "fit for duty".