**Through Time And Space with Olliver Owlhoot**
Milli Watts, Ed.
Greetings, fair reader. I am Milli Watts, and I have the privilege and burden of presenting the exploits and experiences of Olliver Owlhoot, traveller and debonair troubleshooter.
These stories are presented as they were relayed to me by Olliver. I have, perhaps, taken a few liberties of changing names, dates, and/or places to protect privacy, but otherwise they are true adventures.
Sit back, sip a beverage of your choice, and enjoy.
Number 1
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On a visit to the Cooperative Collective of Celestials (C^3) in 2932, Olliver Owlhoot was hired to solve a problem which was seriously disturbing the harmony of the spheres.
The delegation from Psalterium Georgii Major were in negotiations to join the Collective. They controlled an important space lane between the Asmoti of Canidae Seven and the Sumati of Omicron Delta Minor for the export of the Washub beetle, considered a delicacy by the latter. The Sumati had threatened war with anyone who impeded their ability to consume the beetles, so it was important to negotiate the use of the space lane.
The Palterium Georgii Major society was based on the teachings of Konduku Ilin, who believed that hatchlings were better negotiators than adults. A large creche was built for the purpose of diplomacy and children from all the major species of the Collective were present. The negotiations, never to be called a play date, began on a solid footing. The Psalterium Georgii Major hatchlings interacted with each species in order, with the observing adults taking copious notes. At that point, the Collective consisted of three hundred and forty nine members and sixty three associates. While most adroit diplomats were capable of withstanding the unique challenges of a meet and greet with twice that number of participants, most younglings do not have that sort of stamina. They became bored. They became tired. And, as is the case with most younglings, they became cranky and began to fuss and whine, or the nearest equivalent in their species.
Fozaab adults have a horn which is renowned galaxy wide for its harmonious sound. The larval Fozaab, however, are not so blessed. Their immature horns make a sound which Earthlings might compare to the whine of mosquitoes, if mosquitoes were as loud as jumbo jets. Needless to say, they were disrupting the negotiations, which were crumbling and war loomed on the horizon.
Child Psychologists were at a loss. They'd tried every trick in the book--and a few which weren't--in order to quiet the larvae. At the last moment, with the negotiations about to collapse, they turned to Olliver for help. He requisitioned a space ship and earplugs for its crew. The larval Fozaab were loaded aboard and the ship blasted off and returned an hour later with the younglings blissfully asleep.
The negotiations were successfully concluded the next day, war averted, and Psalterium Georgii Major became the newest members of the Collective.
"You did it again, Olliver," congratulated Timema Estro, the Voice of the Collective. "I just don't understand how you were able to solve it so quickly."
"Oh, it was nothing, really," replied Olliver. "I simply remembered how to put a baby alien to sleep. You rocket."
Number 2
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Olliver Owlhoot is often called upon to solve cases and conundrums which confound the Police and other investigators; in such, he considers himself a Consulting Detective -- it says so on his business cards. One of his favorite cases transpired on the water world of Merdlac. The natives of Merdlac were roughly analogous to Terran fish, both in size and variety.
Olliver was approached to assist in a murder case; Mack O'Rel, the leading scholar of the northern shoals (the Terran name; the Merdlac doesn't really translate well), was found slashed to ribbons; filleted by a seashell. The local authorities thought it an open and shut case; fin prints were found on the weapon and an arrest was made. After initially protesting his innocence, the suspect clammed up.
The case was just a little too perfect; the evidence fit the crime a little too well, so Chad Roe, an investigator who had worked with Olliver in the Smelting Accident of 4235, invited him to look at the case. After perusing the evidence, Olliver agreed that something was just a little fishy about the murder.
He met with the accused, Nishin, to get his side of the story. Nishin was a little guy, ruddy faced, not much to look at. He didn't have an alibi; at least not one he was willing to admit. He'd never met Mack and other than hearing his name from time to time didn't know much about him. He did recognize the purported weapon, however, and while it was his, he had lost it a couple of months prior in a shell game at a club. Olliver believed he was innocent and set out to solve the case.
He started nosing around, seeing if there was any blood in the water. Indeed, there was. Mack had been seeing Bonita, a performer at the Blue Lagoon night club. When Olliver went to see her, she carped about Mack and had nothing good to say about him. They really hadn't been together that long and she'd gotten tired of him. She wanted to move on, but he was just too clingy, showing up at the club every night. She tried to have him banned from the club, but the Owners didn't want to provoke someone as influential as Mack.
On his way out, Olliver saw someone go into a door at the back of the club. There he found an illegal gambling hall. At every table, shells were won and lost but, as they say, the house always wins.
On a hunch, Olliver went back and asked Nishin where he'd lost the weapon. It was, as he suspected, at the Blue Lagoon. Olliver decided to do some more digging. The Blue Lagoon was owned by a Mr. Moré -- as slippery a character as Olliver had ever met. He'd taken a special interest in Bonita's career; she was his biggest stage attraction and he wanted to keep her happy. It was time to go back and press her for more information.
Bonita was looking especially sleek and chiq that day. Olliver didn't let it affect him; he was here on business. There'd be time later for pleasure. After further questioning, Bonita admitted that Moré had talked with her since the murder, saying that Mack wouldn't be bothering her any more and that she should be grateful. He hinted about ways she might show her gratitude. Bonita was a little scared of Moré; he had a temper and was known for getting what he wanted. If he couldn't get it, well, he just made sure that nobody could.
Olliver decided it was time to go back to Chad. They obtained a warrant and found evidence that Moré had planned the crime. He was prosecuted and sent to the slammer for a long time. When Nishin was released, Chad asked Olliver what made him sure of his innocence.
"I could tell, just by looking at him," replied Olliver. "He's a red herring."
Number 3
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By 3127, Lana Ŝtofo was known across the galaxy for its thread
and textile production, so it was, naturally, the logical location for
the Intergalactic Quantum String Museum.
While visiting, Olliver was disappointed to find it closed and picketed by
a strike of the security workers, the Kooperativo de Policistoj.
As he stood outside the picket trying to read their signs -- the
strike had gone on so long that they had become warped with exposure
to the elements, the museum Administrator recognized him and asked if
there was some way he could help with the negotiations. They'd
become impossible snagged and a convention of String Experts was
scheduled to convene for Tramo Kaj Ordo, an impossibility under the
circumstances. Without security, the insurance premiums would be
astronomically prohibitive and the museum was already on a shoestring
budget.
"Happy to help," Olliver replied cheerfully. "I'll soon get this untangled. It's not anything like that snarl in Phrygian Gordium."
Olliver sat down with the two parties. It seemed that the main hitch had to do with payment for services when the museum was closed.
"Oh, this is simple!" he said. He wrote an instruction on a piece of paper, folded it and asked that it be taken by courier to a dye manufacturer. The courier returned, with two small vials of blueish crystals.
The union officials reacted favorably and a pay schedule was soon reached.
"Amazing, Owlhoot," the Administrator remarked. "How did you know that was what they wanted?"
"Oh, it was simple, really, they just wanted the copper nitrate."
About the Editor
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Milli Watts spends their time diligently editing and publishing Olliver's reports of his exploits between his visits.
Contact Milli
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