Jerald smiled. Both men listened eagerly as I started thinking about the first episode of Danger Service, which introduced all the silly characters and told about the planets involved. Even Hep paid attention.

Far, far away on the planet of the purple people, brave officers board ships to the Elshar worlds. Worlds of danger. But, these brave men and women of DS are born to face danger, every min, every sec. They are Danger Service!

The scene of a purple-tinted Thorde, which is really more green and brown with a few oceans, shakes, and someone yells, 'Ouch!'

We see a small, gray ship, and a young Thordes sits on the ground rubbing his head.

'Diplomat Martel! You have to save Elshar Mashai from Emperor Evilus! Quit fooling around!' Another Thordes reaches through the ship and yanks him in. In fast forward. 'Whoa!'

The ship lifts off. Sound of the engines, instead of smooth clicking, is more the rhythm of 'Tea for Two' and sounds like tap dancing. The ship rocks in time. Four voices go 'Whoaaa! Whoaaa!' They laugh hysterically.

Hep and Jerald nearly fell over laughing! The deep voice of the BBC's overdramatic narrator, coupled with the slapstick, overacted main character, the clumsy Diplomat Martel, in a greatcoat bigger than he is, even got a chuckle out of Mer Sie.

Emperor Evilus plots to capture Diplomat Martel in his laboratory. 'I will find him when he comes here to find me. Even now, he's left Thorde.' The floor is polished wood. Elshar Mashai doesn't have any trees. He passes intricately carved chairs and a polished table, all of wood that's obviously Earthan, not Elshar. That's enough to make the Thordes laugh even more. His assistant, a clumsy Elshar, spills acid on the floor. A hole forms, then a scream from below makes him spill more.

'Sorry! Don't worry, Boss. He'll grow another arm. Just a Zbbat.'

A yellow tentacle reaches through the floor to choke him.

Emperor Evilus ignores that. 'Asha, you have the formula, don't you? My latest slaver drug?'

Asha tries to answer, but the Zbbat is dragging him down the hole. Splintering wood covers Evilus, who doesn't pay any attention to that.

'Asha!!!'

The arm pops up and holds Asha by his throat so he's standing in front of Evilus. We can see the styrofoam falling away from a wire armature, and Asha is obviously holding the arm together. He's standing on a platform, and straps that hold him onto it show. 'Yes, oh Evilus. My formula will make him our mindless slave--'

'Our mindless slave! My mindless slave!'

'Oh, yes, oh evil one! YOUR mindless slave. Just like this Zbbat--'

'It works on Zbbat, too?'

'Well, I didn't have a Thordes to test it on--'

'Idiot!' The arm drags him out of sight again.

Diplomat Martel tries to get out of the way of a horse-drawn cart, and his greatcoat catches on a board at the back. His buddies have to pull him out of the mud. Red mud. Mud on Elshar Mashai is yellow. There are pine trees in the background. Houses, instead of being made of rocks fused together by radiant heat, are log cabins. Chimneys pour black smoke.

Evilus, disguised as a Gowan healer, in brown, ragged robes, runs out. 'Do you need a healer?'

Martel staggers to his feet, and his friends prop the coat to hold him up. 'I would never ask for a Gowan healer! Go away! I'm a diplomat for Danger Service!' As he says Danger Service, other deep male voices echo, and they all look around.

Of course, Evilus stumbles, and his black cloth bag flies up in the air, filling it with a cloud of dust. The DS men blink and cough.

'Ha, ha! Now you are in my power. Follow me!' Evilus sweeps his robe over his mouth and nose.

The men laugh at him. 'C'mon, Martel. Let's meet with Counselman Asha.'

Evilus looks properly crushed, in a very overacted way, and the DS men walk off.

In the meeting, the room is wood-paneled, the table is wood, the chairs are wood, and it has a checkered wood-inlaid floor. Council chambers on Elshar Mashai are obsidian, with dirt floors and stone furniture.

Councilman Asha is obviously the henchman, with pieces of styrofoam sprinkling his light blue, sparkling robe. So sparkling, it reflects enough light to make the four men blink every time he moves. When he turns, his white lab coat shows underneath it. Pockets bulge with flasks of different colors of liquid splashing everywhere. His breast pockets have powders. 'I want to talk about this treaty. My people want to trade with your people, of course we do. But do we have to give you back your slaves? We like Thordes!' He gives an evil one-eyebrow smile.

Diplomat Martel stands up, and the other three have to pull on him to keep his heavy coat from overbalancing him. 'I say, Councilman Asha, if we had Elshar Mashaian slaves, wouldn't you want them back?'

'Diplomat Martel.' Asha stands up, and liquid from one of the flasks spills on the table. The three others have their hands on it, shake the wetness off, then stagger around the room. 'If you had a slave from my world, I would let you keep him! It's expensive to feed a grown man.' As he speaks, he tries to flick some of the liquid from the table onto Martel's hand, but Martel turns just in time for a wet streak to appear on the back of the dark green coat.

'We have plenty of food.' Martel swishes the coat to face Asha, who holds another flask ready to dash in his face. Martel bumps him and the flask falls out of his hand. He ignores the loud sound of glass breaking to step close to Asha's face. 'My job is to take those slaves back to Thorde, since you obviously don't want to feed them. We eat a lot, you know.' He pats his stomach.

Asha looks his greatcoat up and down and grimaces. Compares his skinny self to Martel's body, which is athletic and big. He looks a little like Mike, one of the Thordes healers, with his blonde curls and medium purple complexion. Then, he shrugs and takes out red powder.

As he speaks, he carelessly gestures holding the test tube so powder flies in Martel's face. 'Maybe you do, since you exercise a lot. Slaves don't move around that much.'

Red powder covers Martel's face, but he doesn't even blink. 'All men eat, Asha.' Slowly, he sinks backwards, but the coat holds him up. 'Surely you don't expect me to leave my brothers.'

Asha pulls out a blue powder, blows into the tube, and it covers both men. 'Of course not. Want to see them?'

'I'd like that! Koh, Asmart, Dsmart, help me up!'

The three Thordes are asleep on the floor with smiles on their faces. Martel looks up at Asha and passes out, also with a smile.

'Hah! I told him what worked on a Zbbat would work on a Thordes! All of you, get up!'

Nobody moves.

'I said, get up, slaves!' He kicks one in the right foot.

The man sits up. 'Ouch!' Before Asha can order him to get up, he faints again with a smile.

Asha looks at the camera. Whacks himself in the forehead.

Asha drags Martel, still in the heavy coat, into Evilus' dungeon. The other three are on the floor, one with both legs sticking up in the air.

There waits Evilus, rubbing his hands together. 'What took you so long? Make these men get up and do my bidding!'

'I-uh-I can't. They're in your power--'

'What good is it for them to lie there and sleep?! Make them get up and attack the Alliance! Send them to Ishah to attack the Praefate! Up, slaves! You want to kill the King of Elshar!'

One mumbles, 'The king? But he's nice. He gave me candy when I saw him last.'

Another, the one with his legs sticking up, said, 'Me, too. I had licorice. Did you, Asmart?'

'No. Cinnamon dots. I love cinnamon dots--'

Evilus chokes Asha. But Martel jumps to his feet. 'Did someone say kill the king? I'll kill him. I hate candy! Just makes you fat. It's an Earthan plot.' He patted his tummy.

Martel stumbles into the King's Palace, which is obviously cardboard, because a wall tumbles down and people eating candies at a wooden table complain about having to push it back into place.

The king wears a white bathrobe and has bare feet. 'Diplomat Martel! How good to see you!'

Martel tries to bow, and the coat holds him bent over. Then the king has to help him get back up. The moment the king touches him, Martel tackles him and falls on him. Neither man can get up.

'How good to kill you, sir!'

'Kill me? Why?' The king gives a horrified stare into Martel's face, which is way too close. His eyes cross.

'Candy is evil! It makes people fat! Look at how much weight I've gained from visiting you!'

The king looks at the camera and groans. 'Maybe you're right. All of Elshar has to go on a diet! Asha, tell Asha to proclaim it right now!'

Three men salute and run out.

The king frowns. 'I hope one of them was the right one. Okay, Diplomat Martel, if I never offer you candy again, will you let me live?'

Martel frowns. 'Of course! Do you have some feifums?'

A chorus rises of feifums, feifums, fee fi fo fums, we have feifums and so will you—you can eat feifums until you're blue!

And Martel looks at his hand. 'I'm not blue, I'm kind of purple.'

Then they change the song to read purple, they put him at the end of the table, the king at the other, and everybody eats.

Evilus and Asha sit at a table with two plates, each with a tiny round bread. Evilus grabs Asha's bread and eats it with a glare. 'It's your fault the king cut our rations!'

'Do you have to eat my food, too, sir?' Asha tries to grab Evilus' portion, but he eats that, too. Asha gets a crumb, and Evilus holds out a hand for it.

'I'm evil. It's my job! Go back to your lab and find a drug that works!'

'I already did. I sent the king a box of Earthan chocolates. Before you know it, he'll be eating candy again, and we'll be getting all the amta we can hold.'

Both of them laugh evil laughs.

And so, the peaceful planet of Elshar Mashai is safe from—uh—the peaceful planet of Thorde--

A scene of purpleized Thorde shakes. Ouch!

The same man drags Martel into the ship. 'C'mon, Martel! We didn't get the slaves! The slaves!'

'Slaves? Oh, yeah. You are my slaves. Get up!'

Laughter. 'Martel, you always kid around so much!'

The ship rocks in time to the tap-dancing engines, and wobbles up, as they laugh loudly.

Jerald frowned. "Did Martel recover from the slaver herb?"

I laughed. "Mer Sie, it's not meant to be serious! The whole thing's a joke. Martel's clumsy, when most Thordes diplomats take dance so they're extra graceful and athletic for the more exotic greetings. The way the ship moves--"

He did laugh then. "I see. I must compare all to Thordes and Elshars, ne to other species I met. In some cultures, you understand, Diplomat Martel might have to act so. Lisbaarans lean on their coats as he did there, as a matter of formal greeting and discussion."

"Lisbaarans?"

"In the fourth galaxy, Lis Quadrant, Lisbaar Hub."

I had seen bizarre greetings, but this people used the most comical form of address—just exactly like Diplomat Martel—and they looked Thordes. Actually, they're a mixture of Thordes and Xchou, that's why the reddish-purple skin. And four-fingered hands.

"A Thordes colony. I visited there in my youth, as a Diplomat-In-Aid to my father."

When I started to ask him more about it, Jerald looked up at me. "He's asleep, Claire." Then he smiled. "Got any more Danger Service?"

I laughed. "What am I, a walking library?" But, I remembered so many episodes from memory. I shared three more hours of it before Jerald got sleepy.

—Stranded, an unpublished story. Rewriting it into Claire's Stranded, part of 100 Days On Earth project. Probably the only person to ever make fun of Heden, a notorious slaver.