Dirk. I'm Illyria of the planet Tsuris and I have taken over the body of this lizard in order to help Bill here.”
Captain Dirk looked at Bill. “Any truth in what this repulsive alien is saying? And have we met before?”
“I've met the Counter-Dirk,” Bill said. “He looks just like you.”
“That is really rotten news. We came here to stop the despicable creature known only as the Alien Historian. But no sooner do we get here than we run into a mirror reversal. It traps us here, and, since matter cannot be destroyed and energy is merely information, it produced the Counter-Gumption and the Counter-Dirk back in our own space and time. I must get back to stop them.”
“But what about the Romans?” Bill asked. “What are you doing here?”
“Trying to sort out the fate of a thoroughly unpleasant man named Julius Caesar,” Dirk said. “I am very much in a dilemma as to his fate. The Alien Historian is trying to save Caesar in order to change the history of the Earth to our great disadvantage. We can't permit that. On the other hand, if I stop the Alien Historian, I would be an accomplice to Caesar's death at the hands of Brutus. You can see what a moral dilemma it presents to me.”
“You mean you're thinking of letting the Alien Historian stop Brutus from killing Caesar?” Bill knew his Roman history from watching a lot of really bad films about the Romans which had been really popular for a while.
“Well, it is quite a moral problem, as even one with a forehead as low as yours can probably see,” Dirk said. “What would you do in my place?”
“Bump off the Alien Historian,” Bill said simply. “Then I'd go back to my own time and kick that Counter-Dirk right up the arse.”
“That's what Splock said.”
“He was right.”
“But Splock doesn't understand human emotion!” Dirk said.
“It works the same with or without emotion,” Bill said. “Your job is to get the Earth back into its rightful time track.”
“You're right, you're right,” Dirk muttered. “I've been under a considerable strain lately. They said I'm all washed up, but they're wrong. I can still cut it. You know what I mean?”
“Sure I do,” Bill said. “What has to be done?”
“We have to grab Brutus before he can kill Caesar.”
“When is all this supposed to take place?”
Captain Dirk glanced at his watch. The Romans stared. They had never seen a watch before.
“We have about two hours,” Dirk said. “At that point, according to Splock's calculations, that's how much time the Alien Historian will need to realize we've made an end run around him, and reset his machine to send him back to before we arrived here. That would give him time to thwart us.”
“But then you could go back to a time before he came!” Bill said.
“Theoretically, yes,” Dirk said. “Actually, we ran our batteries down considerably just getting here. You have no idea how difficult it is to get a trickle charge in 45 BC. No, Bill, whatever is to be done, it has to be done now.”
“Then let's do it!” Bill cried.
“Me too,” Illyria the Chinger said, pouting, which is pretty hard for a lizard to do, feeling very much out of it since they had overlooked her. Literally.
“You'll help?” Dirk asked.
“Of course!”
“You are an experienced trooper, I believe, and therefore trained for hand-to-hand combat?”
“Well, yeah, I suppose so,” Bill said, remembering all the battles he had been in, the ones that he could not avoid of course. “I have had the odd experience on the field of battle.”
“Great. And you can command men?”
“Now wait a minute,” Bill said, “I'm no officer. I was one once. I had a field promotion. Then I had a field demotion. I think I have had enough of that old officer bowb.”
“Not as an officer. I mean on the squad or platoon level.”
“Yeah, sure. Lots of that. I was even a DI. But anyway, so what? You're an officer. That's what captain means, doesn't it? So you ought to
Captain Dirk looked at Bill. “Any truth in what this repulsive alien is saying? And have we met before?”
“I've met the Counter-Dirk,” Bill said. “He looks just like you.”
“That is really rotten news. We came here to stop the despicable creature known only as the Alien Historian. But no sooner do we get here than we run into a mirror reversal. It traps us here, and, since matter cannot be destroyed and energy is merely information, it produced the Counter-Gumption and the Counter-Dirk back in our own space and time. I must get back to stop them.”
“But what about the Romans?” Bill asked. “What are you doing here?”
“Trying to sort out the fate of a thoroughly unpleasant man named Julius Caesar,” Dirk said. “I am very much in a dilemma as to his fate. The Alien Historian is trying to save Caesar in order to change the history of the Earth to our great disadvantage. We can't permit that. On the other hand, if I stop the Alien Historian, I would be an accomplice to Caesar's death at the hands of Brutus. You can see what a moral dilemma it presents to me.”
“You mean you're thinking of letting the Alien Historian stop Brutus from killing Caesar?” Bill knew his Roman history from watching a lot of really bad films about the Romans which had been really popular for a while.
“Well, it is quite a moral problem, as even one with a forehead as low as yours can probably see,” Dirk said. “What would you do in my place?”
“Bump off the Alien Historian,” Bill said simply. “Then I'd go back to my own time and kick that Counter-Dirk right up the arse.”
“That's what Splock said.”
“He was right.”
“But Splock doesn't understand human emotion!” Dirk said.
“It works the same with or without emotion,” Bill said. “Your job is to get the Earth back into its rightful time track.”
“You're right, you're right,” Dirk muttered. “I've been under a considerable strain lately. They said I'm all washed up, but they're wrong. I can still cut it. You know what I mean?”
“Sure I do,” Bill said. “What has to be done?”
“We have to grab Brutus before he can kill Caesar.”
“When is all this supposed to take place?”
Captain Dirk glanced at his watch. The Romans stared. They had never seen a watch before.
“We have about two hours,” Dirk said. “At that point, according to Splock's calculations, that's how much time the Alien Historian will need to realize we've made an end run around him, and reset his machine to send him back to before we arrived here. That would give him time to thwart us.”
“But then you could go back to a time before he came!” Bill said.
“Theoretically, yes,” Dirk said. “Actually, we ran our batteries down considerably just getting here. You have no idea how difficult it is to get a trickle charge in 45 BC. No, Bill, whatever is to be done, it has to be done now.”
“Then let's do it!” Bill cried.
“Me too,” Illyria the Chinger said, pouting, which is pretty hard for a lizard to do, feeling very much out of it since they had overlooked her. Literally.
“You'll help?” Dirk asked.
“Of course!”
“You are an experienced trooper, I believe, and therefore trained for hand-to-hand combat?”
“Well, yeah, I suppose so,” Bill said, remembering all the battles he had been in, the ones that he could not avoid of course. “I have had the odd experience on the field of battle.”
“Great. And you can command men?”
“Now wait a minute,” Bill said, “I'm no officer. I was one once. I had a field promotion. Then I had a field demotion. I think I have had enough of that old officer bowb.”
“Not as an officer. I mean on the squad or platoon level.”
“Yeah, sure. Lots of that. I was even a DI. But anyway, so what? You're an officer. That's what captain means, doesn't it? So you ought to
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