The Kruton Interface

CHAPTER 11

The Lord High Judge of Tortfeasors’ Court of the Supreme Judiciary of Kruton crouched in his chambers. Today he had spun a web and was waiting for unsuspecting prey to flit into his lair.

His communication device burbled.

“Chief Operative Shlurff of Intelligence to see you, Your Lordship.”

The Lord High Judge cackled, then said, “Have the chief operative come in.”

The door to His Lordship’s chambers retracted, and in rolled a huge ball of fur and claws and talons and tentacles. (Really, the sight would have been horrific beyond endurance to even the most phlegmatic human being.)

The awful thing that was the chief operative rolled into the web and was immediately ensnared. The arms and tentacles and other appendages flailed wildly.

“What’s this? Help me, help me! I’ll sue, I’ll sue!”

“Oh, you’re no fun today,” the Lord High Judge jeered. “Very well.”

The web collapsed, freeing the chief operative.

The Lord High Judge came out of hiding and flexed his fifteen hairy legs.

“Shall we revert to something innocuous?” the chief operative suggested.

“As you wish,” the Judge assented.

Both beings flowed and transformed. The end result was two creatures that resembled jellyfish with tufts of green hair on top.

“You sent for me?” the chief operative asked.

“Yes. I want a complete report of our covert operation.”

“Which one?”

“The one concerning the humans.”

“There are several.”

“The one targeting the Interface.”

“Oh, yes. That operation is proceeding apace. It will come to fruition shortly.”

“Good. Have you had reports from our agents in the field?”

“We have only one agent involved in that particular operation, and there has been no recent report. The agent is not exactly in a position to file daily updates.”

“One wishes for a little more information.”

“The more information you have, the less your deniability factor.”

“True. But this operation has the potential to yield such a great return that I grow impatient awaiting its outcome.”

“As I indicated, the wait won’t be long.”

“Good, good. Can you give me a definite time frame?”

“You might hear something within one diurnal period.”

“Excellent! You’re right, of course, in limiting what you tell me to what I need to know. I am satisfied.”

“And I’m glad to have pleased you, thus far.”

“Yes, there is a beneficial outcome yet to weigh in the balance. But I am optimistic. You have done well, Shlurff.”

The chief operative quivered with delight.

His Lordship’s communication device blurted.

“Yes?”

“Your take-out order has arrived, Your Lordship.”

“Very good, start shoveling it in. Uh, Chief Operative, would you care to have luncheon with me? I am dining in today.”

The chief operative almost melted. “I would be honored beyond reason!”

The door to the chamber dilated, and in rushed a flood of putrescent matter, the like of which would gag any coprophage in the known universe. The semiliquid mass was mostly purple, with swirls of yellow and green. It stank horribly.

Very soon, both the Lord High Judge and his guest were inundated to their topmost parts.

“Hope you don’t mind trendy food,” the Lord High Judge said. “They say it’s healthier.”

“I love nouvelle cuisine,” the chief operative enthused.

“Well, dig in.”

Both creatures grew a paddle-like excrescence and began to burrow into the floodtide of egregious muck. Very quickly, they disappeared beneath the surface.