After an hour (and more pictures, including several with Stan and Ollie working out with the Body Shapers), Bubba broke open the plaster mold with a hammer, and the two small cubes were trimmed and checked against their specs. Mike pronounced them adequate for the purpose, and Ollie installed them in the ship’s drive.
While they were calibrating the drive systems and making a final check of the ship before departing, the phone rang.
“Whatcha got for me, Kirby?” Bubba said when he picked it up.
“How’d you know it was me?”
“Who else but a lawyer would call at five in the morning?”
“Your Aunt Nell, maybe?”
“Naw, she’d just send the Rolls. What news, Osiris?”
“Can you get some kind of affidavit signing over patent rights? Because without that, you’re more or less up the creek as far as making any money off of whatever it is you may or may not have,” the lawyer replied.
Bubba put one hand over the mouthpiece and said “You listening, Mike?”
“Yes. Insofar as Stan and Ollie are official representatives of the parliament, they can sign anything you need. Whether or not it will hold up in your courts is questionable, assuming you made the claim that the technology was extraterrestrial. If you make no such claim, there should be no such problem. I can create the required drawings.”
Bubba turned back to the phone. “Tell you what, Kirby. Why don’t I just put you in touch with the concerned party and let the two of you work it out? I don’t want anything out of it, myself; I’m more interested in passing the whole thing along to Greenpeace.”
Bubba could hear the distance humming along the phone lines.
“If this is what you say it is, Bubba,” said Kirby thoughtfully, “it will mean an incredible change in the lives of practically everyone on the globe. Cheap power—how cheap, I wonder?”
“Hell, you’d be able to walk into a convenience store and buy a year’s worth of energy for the price of a case or three of the good stuff, Kirby.”
“Unbelievable. And you mentioned an inertialess drive?”
“Yup. The airlines would kill for it.”
“What I don’t understand is what you want out of this. If you give this to Greenpeace, you’ll very likely not get any money, unless you license it outright and collect a royalty.”
“Kirby, the only royalty I want is to know that these things will be available to everyone, everywhere. Here, there, third world, all over. I want to know that any rain forest Indian can walk into town and buy one of these for their entire tribe, and not have to worry about being ripped off. I want to know that the designs and drawings are public record, and that the design is free to be copied without restriction. What I don’t want is for someone to get hold of it and bury it so it can’t be used.”
“You don’t want much, do you? Well, I’m not sure how it can be done, but I figure that there’ll be more lawyers working for us than against us—especially if we offer it to the Have-Nots; if ever there was a case for the zealots and crusaders, this is it. Liberal lawyers will gather like moths to the flame.”
“I hope so, because the alternative is uploading the designs to the bulletin boards and spreading it through the networks.”
“We may do that, too. It’s harder to stop a fait accompli, after all.”
“I’ll have my lawyer call you, maybe you can do lunch,” Bubba said.
“I am your lawyer.”
“So give yourself a call and take yourself to lunch. I understand you’re a sucker for Szechwan.”
“Right. I just hope I can get me to pick up the check.”
They rang off.
At last, and reluctantly, the aliens were ready to leave. Kermit took a few more pictures, and Bubba checked to see if the streets were clear. The Sun had not yet quite risen, and there was enough darkness to cover their departure.
Stan and Ollie stood by the platform. Bubba held out his hand to each of them, a custom they seemed unfamiliar with; they, in turn, placed their left hands on Bubba’s chest and then touched their own foreheads. They repeated the gesture with Kermit.
“Boys,” Bubba said, “It’s been somethin’. I’ve fixed more than my share of flats, and I have to say that this one was the best.”
Stan said, “You are good friend to us, Bubba. We will come back soon for more TV and beer.”
“Yes,” Ollie added. “We must come back to see rest of ‘Green Slime.’ It reminds us of home.”
“Why don’t that surprise me? Well, gentlemen, before you take off, I want to give you something to remember us by.” He picked up a flat box from the workbench and handed it to Stan. “It’s your membership kits for SauNA. Cards, T-shirts, decoder rings, the whole nine yards. Use ’em in good health.”
“So long, boys,” Kermit said. “Our best to Bigfoot.”
The aliens entered their ship, and Bubba opened the big double garage doors. With a slight lurch (“Popped the clutch, I ’spect,” Bubba muttered) and the hiss of its powerful fans, the ship moved out the door and into the sky. Within minutes, it was out of sight.
Bubba and Kermit watched it without speaking as long as it was visible, then turned and walked slowly back to the garage. Silently, Bubba opened two Anchor Steams, and they sat at the kitchen table with the screen between them.
“Well, Mike,” Kermit said finally. “What do you think?”
“I have no choice but to assume that you’ve just asked me a rhetorical question. However, I do know what your intention was. I must admit that I’ll miss my teammates, and the process of exploration; I have no doubt, though, that within a decade, your planet will be doing its own explorations. In the meantime, I am happy to be able to do something meaningful, rather than the bureaucratic silliness I was forced to perform before.”
“Sounds good to me. Bubs,” Kermit said, standing and stretching slowly, “I think I’m going to drop this film in my safe, call in sick, and crap out. I am just slightly fried. I’ll call you later.”
“No prob, Mr. de Frog. Give my apologies to your honeydew.”
After Kermit left, Bubba locked up and put the “closed” sign on the front door. Pouring out the rest of his beer, he set some tea brewing, and sat back down at the table.
“Now, Mike, let’s think for a minute about that inertialess drive. You think it would be possible to drop one in a ’67 Shelby GT body?”
“Yes, Bubba, we could do that,” Mike replied. Then, after a short pause, he added, “But it would be wrong.”
As static burst from the screen and Bubba laughed, the Sun rose over a new day.