The New Pipe – Containment Protocol-Part 38 (of 38)
Final Episode. 1600 words, 8-minute read.
Booker and Muñoz look back, and ahead. in the final episode.
The rest of the Containment Protocol saga can be found here: https://raytabler.substack.com/s/containment-protocol-serial
Part 1 (the beginning), ... Part 37 (previous episode).
The next serial, Planets 4 Sale, will start on Tuesday!
The New Pipe – Containment Protocol-Part 38 (of 38)
By Ray Tabler
“Surprise! I’m still here.”
Booker looked up at Muñoz. “After the last few days, I’m not gonna be surprised by anything, ever again. Although, I admit I lost track of you in all the excitement.”
Muñoz slid down to sit next to Booker on the concrete. They both leaned back against Fred’s armored skirting, outboard of the road wheels on the right side of the tank. Rather, what was left of the skirting and the road wheels.
Muñoz surveyed the damage. “I’m not a tanker, but that looks bad. How the hell did you keep rolling as long as you did?”
“Prayer.”
“Prayer? Didn’t realize you’re a religious man.”
“I was then. A thousand tons of Godzilla roaring after me. Shooting road wheels out like a Pez dispenser. I was praying like a son of a bitch.” Booker stared at the mangled remnants of Fred’s suspension. “We had a close encounter with a giant dino leg early on. Still don’t understand why Fred kept going as long as he did.”
Booker patted the tank affectionately.
“Don’t know about you, but I need a drink.” Muñoz pulled a fifth of whiskey from a cargo pocket, and removed the cap. He upended the bottle, took a slug, and offered the whiskey to Booker.
“Why not?” Booker accepted the bottle, and took a drink himself. He made a face, and looked at the label. “Jesus Christ! That’s the worst booze I’ve had since high school.” Then he knocked back another slug.
“Trick I learned from my dad.” Muñoz chuckled. “Only keep the worst booze in your locker, and people won’t steal it. Works too.”
“I’m not surprised.” Booker passed the bottle back. “Bad as it is, that rotgut is still better than what they poured down our throats in Bedrock.”
Muñoz nodded. “Shame about ol’ Vinzi.” He dribbled some whiskey on the concrete. “For Vinzi. He was nice old dude, and a real one.”
Muñoz took a slug, and handed the bottle back to Booker. Who did the same. They stared into space for a minute.
“You don’t think us coming for a visit is why Bunzo did what he did, do you?” Muñoz asked, quietly.
“Nah, I think he was planning it for a long time. We just provided a convenient excuse to pull the trigger. Way I see it, if we hadn’t been there all of Vinzi’s clan would be dead right now. Including Nohfa, Loonza, Zunta, and his buddies. At least we got some of them out.”
“Probably right about that. I was checking on Zunta right before I found you.”
“How’s he doing?”
“Doctors say he lost a lot of blood, but looks like he’ll pull through.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” Booker reached for the bottle.
“Nohfa was with him. They really do love each other. Good thing too.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“Nothing. Just that Ralna said she’s pregnant with your child.”
Booker sighed. “I remember. Hard to forget something like that.”
“I mean, we could forget it. I won’t spill the beans. And Pinsky could probably be persuaded to keep his mouth shut. Nobody else heard Ralna say it. And, I’m certain Pinsky had shut down the video recorder before that.”
“And what happens in nine months, when she pops out her brown brown baby?”
“Well, I doubt she’s gonna sue for child support.”
Booker stared at Muñoz. “Thanks for the offer to help. Whatever happens, I’ll deal with it.”
“You’re welcome.” Muñoz upended the bottle, and passed it to Booker. “The whole clan will probably move to Indianapolis by then. Get jobs at Kroger’s, and the Ford plant.”
Booker laughed. I have a hard time imagining Zunta, Zoop, and Lumfa working on an assembly line. Is there even a Ford plant in Indianapolis?”
“I don’t know. Seems like the type of place you’d find a Ford plant.”
For a few minutes the pair watched the crews of Wilma and Betty, and some repair personnel trying to figure out how to pry apart the two entwined tanks. They passed the bottle back and forth.
“I don’t know how much of what Ralna said can be trusted.” Booker cautioned. “Got a gut feeling he was straight about Nohfa. But, the rest of it, who knows?’
“Our buddy Ralna was probably telling the truth about walling Earth off from the other universes, though.”
“How do you figure that?”
“While I was looking for you, I ran into a guy I work with on the portal team. He says that can’t get any of the gate machinery to work anymore.”
“What, is it fried, or something?”
“No, boots up fine and passes all the diagnostics. But it doesn’t do anything. Even the test rigs.”
“Damn.”
“Yeah. Looks like inter-dimensional travel is not an option for the foreseeable future. I guess I’m out of a job.”
“How come you decided to come home, instead of slipping away for a life of carefree adventure?” Booker asked, drinking from the bottle.
“Well, I just had to see the look on Mulroney’s face when he found out Pinsky had named his pet dinosaur after that stripper ex-wife of his.”
Booker sputtered up some whiskey laughing. “Oh God, has that happened yet?”
“Not yet.” Muñoz swirled the amber liquid in the bottle. “Honestly? seemed like the thing to do when the place was a pristine, new world. Unexplored. Once I knew it’s nothing more than a big holding pen for Ralna’s control groups... That took a lot of the shine off the whole idea.”
“I can understand that.”
“Yeah.” Muñoz glanced about. “Say, where is Pinsky. I don’t want Mulroney to catch up with him when I’m not there to watch.”
“Oh, he’s still trapped in the debrief session. Shaylton had me tell the whole story about six times over, as we got more and more Pentagon brass on the phone. That senator, Harshaw, was making noises like the president would be next on the line. So, I slipped out a side door when nobody was looking my way.”
“I would’ve figured facetime with POTUS would be a priority for an ambitious, young officer like you.”
“My ambition is in remission at the moment. That’s why I’m hiding out here.”
“It’s a lot to process.”
Booker scowled. “Realistically speaking, the refugees are not moving to Indianapolis, and getting jobs at the Ford plant. They’ll be lucky not to wind up in a fenced-in compound at Area 51 for the next thirty years.”
“Well, if anyone was listening to me, I have a suggestion for a win-win solution regarding the Bedrock refugees.”
“And what would that be?”
“There’s a better than average chance that we will be exploring some new worlds in about a year. Assuming Ralna was telling the truth about those equations Pinsky recorded. Those cavemen are ready-made for scouting such real estate.”
Booker blinked. “That’s a hell of an idea.”
“Like I said, win-win. Feel free to pass it on to Shaylton, and the president when you two chat.”
“Why would the president listen to me?”
“Booker, you are the man of the hour, the fair-haired boy. Even if you’re hair isn’t exactly blonde. You can do no wrong, for a while anyway.”
“Hadn’t thought about that.”
“Do yourself a favor, my friend, and wrangle yourself a promotion or two out of it. Then you’ll be in a good position to help out your friends, like the refugees, and me.”
Booker raised a suspicious eyebrow. “What do you want from me?”
“A job, of course. I need you to get me in on the interstellar exploration program with you, of course. It’s the only way I can see to keep ahead of the bulldozers now that going AWOL to Bedrock’s no longer an option.”
“What?”
Muñoz sighed. “Listen closely. Ralna is most likely a cold, calculating bastard. That’s how he struck me. But he knows human nature. Probably comes from studying us for thousands of years. Our fearless leaders are staring at a one-year clock, ticking down until the rest of the world gets the faster-than-light travel secret. So, there is going to be a crash program to build ships and plant our flag on as many planets as possible before the competition gets going. That is the new pipe.”
“The new pipe?”
“Yeah. My father worked at a big oil refinery when I was little. When the company would expand, build new sites, build new processes, he’d volunteer to work there. He called it following the new pipe. The days were longer. There were more hassles bringing the new equipment online. But the money was better, and his position more secure. He’d say to me, Seymour—”
“Seymour?”
“Yeah. That’s my first name. What’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing. You just don’t look like a Seymour.”
“Well, I am. What’s your name?’
“Leroy.”
“You’re kidding. That’s like the most stereotypical black guy first name ever.”
“I am aware of that, Seymour. I’m named after a grandfather. It’s a family name.”
“Huh. As I was saying. My dad used to say to me. Seymour, follow the new pipe. It’ll never steer you wrong.”
“And, this whole interstellar push is the new pipe?”
Muñoz pointed a finger at Booker. “Bet on it.”
Booker contemplated the events of the past few days, and his new place in the grand scheme of things. His future, or at least a future, seemed to resolve itself into focus. He raised the bottle of rotgut whiskey.
“Well then, Seymour, to the new pipe!”
END.
The rest of the Containment Protocol saga can be found here: https://raytabler.substack.com/s/containment-protocol-serial
Part 1 (the beginning), ... Part 37 (previous episode).
That’s the end of Containment Protocol. I sincerely hope you enjoyed reading the story as much as I enjoyed writing it. This Thursday, I’ll post a postmortem, of my first serial on Substack, with lessons learned. Or, at least, lessons I should’ve learned, but probably won’t. 😏
The next serial, Planets 4 Sale, will start on Tuesday! The aliens have landed, and the world is panicking. Except for McGee, who sees opportunity in every crisis.
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An appropriate ending to this crazy tale. You’ve done a great job of setting up for a new series of installments and it can go anywhere. I hope you continue with this story. I’ll continue to be your number one fan!
Thanks for a lot of laughs along the way. The story was a hoot from start to finish.
Thank you!
"That’s like the most stereotypical black guy first name ever.” "Leroy" is derived from the French term for " the king" (le roi), so it's actually not that bad a name.