phil jones2 (2 page)

Phil's humour was such that he had decided to also attach a key chain version of the Eiffel tower onto it. He realised nobody outside of Voyager fans would get such clever symbolism, then again if they didn't watch Star Trek they weren't worth talking to, were they?

Happily grasping the key chain he ponderously made it to his feet and awkwardly tip-toed around the heaps of clothing and containers that had decided to steal his floor space. He briefly remembered having a carpet when he first moved into the flat, he couldn't remember the colour though. If carpets were people this one would have suffocated to death a long time ago. Assuming it hadn't been bludgeoned to death by Phil's fat ass first.

He made it to the door without any further incident and fumbled with the latch, triumphantly opening it and greeting Mr. Ronald Crawley the postman with his customary Vulcan salute.

Or at least it would have been if that damn glove hadn't covered his fingers.

'I am here to investigate the disturbance reported in this block of flats last night,' the postman said.

Phil smiled. 'I'm glad you're finally here, now where's my package?' He looked around for the familiar cardboard box but there was no sign.

The man stared at the pink glove in awe. 'So you have it! At last, my search is finally at an end!'

Phil Jones stared at the man staring at his glove, then stared at the glove, then stared back at the man staring at his glove. He wasn't sure what was going on here.

'You mean... You're not the postman?'

The stranger raised an eyebrow. 'No, I'm just here to remove the glove. You sir, are an idiot.'

'I already tried, the damn thing is stuck!' Phil exclaimed in jowly frustration, holding out his hand and welcoming any effort to remove it. 'It took me eighteen attempts to kill the wolves in the orchard because of this thing!'

If the stranger was sympathetic towards Phil's clear plight he did not display it, instead he tugged at the extended glove without any success.

'Most interesting... We might have to take you to our offices to get this removed.'

Phil panicked, if he had to leave his flat he'd miss out on the delivery of his graphics card. Then there'd be the long journey all the way down to the post office to acquire it, that was a fate he wanted to avoid at all costs.

'Can't it wait until tomorrow? I have an important..'

'Date?'

Phil looked at the man and reluctantly decided not to lie to him. 'Well, no.'

The man peered past his shoulder into the room, clearly the air was leaking out the doorway. 'You're going to sit there and play on your computer all night, aren't you?'

Phil puffed himself up like a very flabby blowfish. 'I'll have you know that my guild would be lost without me, this is serious business. What's with the shades and the suit anyway? Next thing I know you'll be calling me Mr. Anderson.'

The man pulled a gun out of his suit pocket and stared directly down the sights at Phil. 'How serious would you like to make this, Mr. Anderson?'

Say what you will about Phil Jones, his survival instincts were unparalleled. He fell over backward to the sound of crunching cardboard and tin. 'Don't shoot, don't shoot!' he wailed, waving the pink glove at the man frantically. 'Just get this thing off me as soon as you can, I'll go anywhere!'

The man looked at Jones' other hand, lowering his gun. 'Is that the Eiffel Tower on your key chain?'

Phil nodded. 'Do you get the joke? The Delta Flyer was built by Paris and the Eiffel Tower is also in Paris.'

The man did not laugh.

'If you''ll come with me sir, a shuttle is waiting on the roof of this apartment block.'

Phil scrambled back to his feet and pocketed his keys and wallet, he had no need for a phone and his body was fairly well insulated from the world without a jacket.

The man took the flight of stairs gracefully and at a brisk pace, Phil floundered behind him, ruing every step and wondering why they couldn't have just used the elevator.

'Mr. Jones if your pace continues to slacken I shall forcibly remove your hand and leave you here.'

He redoubled his efforts then, the tone of the man's voice painfully reminding him of gym class all those years ago.

They reached the roof of the apartment without any further incident, Phil's legs finally buckled as he saw the shuttle's insignia.

'SC Antares,' he mumbled to himself, trying and failing to find his feet. 'That's not possible, it's only a glove.'

The man hauled him to his feet and offered him a smile. 'Oh but it is possible Mr. Jones, Star Command has need of you.'

He was bundled into the back of the shuttle without much ceremony and the door was slammed shut. The clicking noise sounded like a fate being sealed, Phil didn't much care for it at all.

'How are you holding up back there, partner?' a Texan accent crackled across the intercom.

Phil did his best to look comfortable and nonchalant, grinding his way into the seat as it moulded to his hefty form. It felt like a space limo, or at least what he thought a limo might feel like had he ever been able to fit in one. Or have attended an occasion where one was required or present. Or been invited to any occasion in particular. Phil was a firm anti-socialite, he didn't see any television companies wanting to make a reality documentary of his life!

Without warning they blasted off from the planet he called home and into space at a frightening speed. He gulped out the window as the little blue point of light slowly receded. All of this for a pink glove? It made no sense.

Chapter 3

Catsuit! Burroughs! Toaster!

T
he shuttle touched down on a large metallic plate on some obscure rock, Phil had no idea where they were. His astronomy teacher had retired after he had confused Pluto with Venus for the eighteenth time that semester.

The plate they had touched down on began to spin dizzily, corkscrewing its way through layers of rock and sending Phil sprawling to the other end of the shuttle wall with a thud.

Eventually the movement ceased and the wall stopped trying to cuddle him to death, his head span crazily and he didn't dare attempt to get to his feet.

The click of the shuttle door signalled that the attempt was going to have to be made. Phil had learnt some time ago that nobody was willing to carry him about the place, he felt inconvenienced by this numerous times per day.

Heaving himself to his feet, he staggered out of the open hatch and into the blinding light of the hallway.

'Welcome to Star Command, Phil Jones. Please follow me.'

Phil's disorientation decided otherwise, he staggered to the side and bounced off the rocky wall which in turn sent him flying into a series of barrels.

The barrels had no opinion of their new trajectory and bounced along without complaint into a console on the far wall. A red light directly above it started flashing and a siren went off ominously.

Phil's escort and pilot both stared agape at the improbable scene unfolding before their eyes, a sweet female voice chimed over the intercom as if to reassure them.

'Self destruct is imminent, please depart Star Command dock immediately. Have a pleasant day.'

They both rushed forward to the terminal and sent out an emergency signal to Star Command headquarters, the siren ceased abruptly and they both let out a sigh of relief in concerto.

Picking himself out of the wreckage, Phil got up just fast enough to spot the doors of the dock slide open to reveal a serious-looking woman in a catsuit.

'What is the meaning of this?' she asked the two men standing by the console.

The pilot quickly absolved himself of blame and wilted under her harsh gaze, giving a meaningful look to the man next to him in the hopes that he'd be able to explain.

'We were transporting the glove-wearer to Star Command when his legs decided to take him elsewhere. His subsequent bumbling triggered the self-destruct mechanism.'

The woman clapped her hands together in glee. 'You mean he did this? He's here right now? Where is he?' She scanned the room and finally locked gazes with Phil.

The gloved one as he was now called had very few experiences with women that weren't pixelated or airbrushed, this was seen as normal in the circles he moved in. Though to claim that Phil Jones moved in social circles would be like suggesting that vultures were fussy eaters.

As a result of this relative inexperience he was considerably flabbergasted by the appearance of this cat-suited woman in the flesh. She was slowly advancing upon his position, he scrambled up and tried to make himself look presentable.

'So you are the glove-wearer! It's such a thrill to finally get to meet you!'

The seriousness had departed, she beamed a bright smile upon him and seemed genuinely excited at the prospect of meeting him, something Phil hadn't witnessed since a particularly large order of his had saved a local pizza firm from bankruptcy. His picture was on the wall there, some would argue that had been his finest achievement today and if he were to drop dead tomorrow it would be his only contribution to society in general.

Phil mumbled something incoherent in response to her enthusiastic greeting, completely at sea as to how to react to an attractive woman lavishing him with attention.

She laughed as if he had cracked the wittiest joke she had heard all week and proceeded to hook her arm around him, forcibly dragging him toward the two men and the open bay doors.

In spite of his shock he made a valiant effort at staying on his feet this time, his wounded pride refusing to allow him to make an even bigger fool of himself in front of a real life woman.

'What is your name, glove-wearer?' she asked him as they crossed the landing platform.

'Phil Jones, mam,' he finally managed to splutter out.

She winked at him playfully. 'Such a gentleman too! No wonder the glove chose you!'

Up until this point Phil could be forgiven for feeling that being 'chosen' by the glove wasn't like winning the lottery. He was starting to come around to the idea though if it meant that pretty women hung off his arm and gazed at him adoringly.

'And what are your names, gentlemen?' this siren in lycra asked, her voice completely serious and business-like once more.

'RJ mam,' the Texan drawled, sweeping his hat off his head and revealing a slight bald spot, not that Phil was in any position to comment.

The suited man looked at her for a moment without deference, as if deciding whether supply his name or not. 'You may call me Smith. Agent Smith.'

'Welcome to Star Command, gentlemen. If you'd like to pass through I will take it from here.'

RJ happily entered the building as if it were a second home, Smith remained unmoved at their side.

'Mr. Jones is my responsibility, I refuse to hand him over to any Star Command official.'

Phil felt the grip on his arm tighten slightly at this newly perceived threat. 'Have you any objections to my accompanying Mr. Jones into Star Command? I can call my superiors should you feel there is a problem.'

Agent Smith offered her a thin smile and beckoned them both to continue on into the main building. 'By all means, lead on. I'll be keeping an eye on Mr. Jones though, we don't want any misappropriation.'

The woman made a small 'hmmph' sound and proceeded at a brisk pace through the large doors, Phil struggling to keep up with her as she towed him forward with surprising vigour.

Whatever this glove was, it seemed to offer him some form of importance to all these people. He sincerely doubted they'd be interested in him otherwise. He just hoped they could get this thing off so he could go back to playing on his computer like none of this had happened. He wondered to himself whether the graphics card had arrived yet and if the postman would report a missing person when Phil wasn't there to receive it.

They passed into a large concourse now with a variety of banners depicting a large rocket ship blasting off from what looked like Earth. Phil came to the realisation that he still didn't know this woman's name and was following her blindly onward, he doubted Agent Smith was really there to see that he was treated well, he only wanted the glove. He felt very vulnerable after thinking that, like a jelly that had been taken out of its customary place in the fridge and sat quivering in fright at its new surroundings.

The woman waved her hand over a small pole jutting out of the ground and the door opened in response, they were led down a series of bright corridors and eventually down what looked to be a large space elevator. She stopped at a door and waved her hand over a panel to the right of it. A clear chiming sound was made but the door refused to open.

'You'll have to excuse the Grand Admiral,' she said to Phil, completely ignoring Agent Smith, 'he's a very preoccupied man at the best of times.'

Phil looked at the woman for a moment, wondering whether he should pose the obvious question. He decided that if this attention was going to continue he'd be better off knowing. 'What's your name?'

She gave a girlish titter, hiding her mouth behind one hand. Phil spotted Agent Smith rolling his eyes.

'My name is Annika, it's a pleasure to meet you, Phil Jones of Earth.'

The warmth that Phil felt in his cheeks increased by a magnitude, it had been a pleasure to meet him. When was the last time anyone genuinely enjoyed his company outside of utilising his prowess online?

The door made another chiming noise and slid open, clearly offering them entry into the Grand Admiral's quarters. Phil briefly noticed that RJ had elected to stay outside rather than deal with the Admiral.

The greying balloon of a man sat behind a polished desk with a holographic terminal floating in mid air. He made an elaborate show of touching the desk and the series of important looking instructions were sucked into the furniture.

'At last, you come bearing the glove-wearer. A most welcome sight indeed!'

Annika and Agent Smith both rapped off smart salutes, Phil attempted the same and nearly knocked himself out in the process.