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Ray would have backed away if he could, but that's the thing about beds. Can't really back away when you're lying down. His fingers (holy cow, what did they do to my hands?) tightened on the edge of the infirmary sheet instead, instinct suggesting that maybe if he pulled it up over his head the man with the gun would go away-
"I don't know any agent Rho," he squeaked, and then cleared his throat, because if he was going to be blown into his constituent particles he wanted to at least take it like a man. "The only Men in Black agent I know is designated K. My name's Ray Stantz."
Beat. Two. Three.
"You have got to be shitting me," said the Man in Black.
"No sir. Tempting though that particular excretory function may be at the moment."
The man scowled, but at least he put up his De-Atomizer, which constituted a reason to relax in Ray's book. "Where'd you even find that name?"
"Under a rock in Mineola? On the extremely massive bills Con Edison sends me at the Firehouse every month? It's my name, all right?"
The other man's lips thinned just a touch."At this point I could probably go into a standard lecture about the dagners inherent in identity theft, particularly when the identity in question belongs to someone officially dead-"
"What?" Ray sat up straight at that.
The Man in Black ignored him. "-but somehow this doesn't smell like a standard case. I think you have some explaining to do, Mr. Stantz."
"That's Doctor Stantz," Ray returned, "and I'll be happy to. But I'm gonna need something to write with and something to write on, first." When people with guns bigger than both your arms put together demanded explanations, in Ray's admittedly very limited and highly derivative book, you wanted to be as accurate as humanly possible. English wasn't gonna cut it. The only thing he could count on to be on his side right now was the mathematics of dimensional physics, whether this guy understood it or not.
The other man nodded and touched something on the wall just out of Ray's visual range. A moment later, a wormlike creature a little taller than Ray's knee came trotting in; it waved to the man with the gun and cried, "Hi, Rho!" at Ray in a high, nasal voice.
The other man snorted. "It's not him, Sleeb," he said.
"Looks just like 'im, P."
"Well, it's not. Get us a pad and a pencil. Pronto."
"You got it, P." And the creature dashed off, snickering to itself in some unknown language.
"That was interesting," Ray said, still watching the door. "One of your co-workers, I take it?"
"Something like that, yeah," said P. "You didn't look too surprised. Seen one of those before?"
"No, but back home I work with ghosts for a living. Once you get used to the restless dead-"
"Gotcher paper right here, P," announced the newly returned Sleeb. "Anything else? I gotta-" The rest of his sentence dissolved into what sounded to Ray oddly like caffeine-fueled incomprehensibility. P shook his head. "Hokeydoke," Sleeb said, and scampered off.
P handed the pencil and paper to Ray. "Ghosts, huh?" he said, the edge of his lip curling just fractionally.
Ray nodded. "Aliens, huh?" he replied. The skepticism was only natural. He'd deal with it later. He had, indeed, some 'splainin' to do.
"Point. Now, what's this I'm supposed to be looking at?"
"How's your dimensional physics?" Ray asked.
"Got a B in the continuing ed class last December. Why?"
"Okay, that's gonna make this next part a whole lot simpler..."
An hour and a half later, Ray had used up five sheets of paper and three pencil erasers, and Sleeb the Worm had taken to standing on his shoulder to get a look at the diagrams and equations Ray was still laying out. P was just shaking his head slowly, attention shifting from one paper to the next. "Sir," he said as he picked up the paper with Ray's postulations about the Shandor Building's aerial D-portal, "this is well beyond anything any Terran civilian ought to know..."
"Please don't say you're gonna have to flashything me. My girlfriend wouldn't go for that at all."
"She's the Gallifreyan, right?" said P without looking up from the forms.
"Yeah. Romanadvoratrelundar."
"Doesn't pay to piss off the Gallifreyans," said Sleeb.
"No, it does not," P agreed. "Okay, much as I hate to admit it, it looks like you're clean. But I think we're gonna have to run you by the big guy anyway."
"That's fine," Ray said. "I can live with that, as long as 'run you by' doesn't translate into 'feed you to' or something similar."
P snorted; Sleeb laughed. "Not by a long shot," P said. "Zedd's human. He's gonna want to hear from both of us. I've got a world of trouble waiting for me when he finds out I mistook you for Rho, and you, well..." He gestured at the papers. "He might want you to stay a while."
"I might have to," Ray said. "At least until I figure out how to get back to Milliways on my own."
Sleeb laughed again, chattering something to P, who ignored him. "We'll see about that. Get your stuff together and get dressed- we're gonna go see Zedd."
"I don't know any agent Rho," he squeaked, and then cleared his throat, because if he was going to be blown into his constituent particles he wanted to at least take it like a man. "The only Men in Black agent I know is designated K. My name's Ray Stantz."
Beat. Two. Three.
"You have got to be shitting me," said the Man in Black.
"No sir. Tempting though that particular excretory function may be at the moment."
The man scowled, but at least he put up his De-Atomizer, which constituted a reason to relax in Ray's book. "Where'd you even find that name?"
"Under a rock in Mineola? On the extremely massive bills Con Edison sends me at the Firehouse every month? It's my name, all right?"
The other man's lips thinned just a touch."At this point I could probably go into a standard lecture about the dagners inherent in identity theft, particularly when the identity in question belongs to someone officially dead-"
"What?" Ray sat up straight at that.
The Man in Black ignored him. "-but somehow this doesn't smell like a standard case. I think you have some explaining to do, Mr. Stantz."
"That's Doctor Stantz," Ray returned, "and I'll be happy to. But I'm gonna need something to write with and something to write on, first." When people with guns bigger than both your arms put together demanded explanations, in Ray's admittedly very limited and highly derivative book, you wanted to be as accurate as humanly possible. English wasn't gonna cut it. The only thing he could count on to be on his side right now was the mathematics of dimensional physics, whether this guy understood it or not.
The other man nodded and touched something on the wall just out of Ray's visual range. A moment later, a wormlike creature a little taller than Ray's knee came trotting in; it waved to the man with the gun and cried, "Hi, Rho!" at Ray in a high, nasal voice.
The other man snorted. "It's not him, Sleeb," he said.
"Looks just like 'im, P."
"Well, it's not. Get us a pad and a pencil. Pronto."
"You got it, P." And the creature dashed off, snickering to itself in some unknown language.
"That was interesting," Ray said, still watching the door. "One of your co-workers, I take it?"
"Something like that, yeah," said P. "You didn't look too surprised. Seen one of those before?"
"No, but back home I work with ghosts for a living. Once you get used to the restless dead-"
"Gotcher paper right here, P," announced the newly returned Sleeb. "Anything else? I gotta-" The rest of his sentence dissolved into what sounded to Ray oddly like caffeine-fueled incomprehensibility. P shook his head. "Hokeydoke," Sleeb said, and scampered off.
P handed the pencil and paper to Ray. "Ghosts, huh?" he said, the edge of his lip curling just fractionally.
Ray nodded. "Aliens, huh?" he replied. The skepticism was only natural. He'd deal with it later. He had, indeed, some 'splainin' to do.
"Point. Now, what's this I'm supposed to be looking at?"
"How's your dimensional physics?" Ray asked.
"Got a B in the continuing ed class last December. Why?"
"Okay, that's gonna make this next part a whole lot simpler..."
An hour and a half later, Ray had used up five sheets of paper and three pencil erasers, and Sleeb the Worm had taken to standing on his shoulder to get a look at the diagrams and equations Ray was still laying out. P was just shaking his head slowly, attention shifting from one paper to the next. "Sir," he said as he picked up the paper with Ray's postulations about the Shandor Building's aerial D-portal, "this is well beyond anything any Terran civilian ought to know..."
"Please don't say you're gonna have to flashything me. My girlfriend wouldn't go for that at all."
"She's the Gallifreyan, right?" said P without looking up from the forms.
"Yeah. Romanadvoratrelundar."
"Doesn't pay to piss off the Gallifreyans," said Sleeb.
"No, it does not," P agreed. "Okay, much as I hate to admit it, it looks like you're clean. But I think we're gonna have to run you by the big guy anyway."
"That's fine," Ray said. "I can live with that, as long as 'run you by' doesn't translate into 'feed you to' or something similar."
P snorted; Sleeb laughed. "Not by a long shot," P said. "Zedd's human. He's gonna want to hear from both of us. I've got a world of trouble waiting for me when he finds out I mistook you for Rho, and you, well..." He gestured at the papers. "He might want you to stay a while."
"I might have to," Ray said. "At least until I figure out how to get back to Milliways on my own."
Sleeb laughed again, chattering something to P, who ignored him. "We'll see about that. Get your stuff together and get dressed- we're gonna go see Zedd."
