Contractor
Contractor
By Andrew S. Ball
Copyright 2014 Andrew S. Ball
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###
For my big sister, and my little sister, who
always made sure I didn’t do anything too
stupid.
###
Contents
Title Page
License Notes
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Novels by Andrew S. Ball
Chapter One
Bonaparte
There is little more frustrating to the
writer of a 25 page history paper than a
serious case of writer’s block that strikes at
page 24. Daniel Fitzgerald was in that
precise situation.
The little black bar that marked his
place in the word processor winked at him in
a cheery, ugly little taunt. He’d written for a
solid six hours, but the flow of text from his
brain and onto his keyboard had ground to a
halt. The mental exhaustion had caught up
with him. He squinted, and tapped his finger
on his desk, as if he was turning the key to a
stubborn ignition. It didn’t help.
That finger itched up to the little lock of
brown hair that hung down from his
forehead. His thoughts turned, and his finger
turned the little lock of hair across his skin,
wrapping it up, then letting it hang free. Then
wrapping it up again.
Two words slithered in from Daniel’s
window. "Good evening."
Daniel was mentally gliding over a
dizzying array of minute facts concerning the
arrangement of Napoleon’s armies at
Waterloo, so he was understandably zoned
out. The short greeting drifted over the
surface of his brain, but didn’t quite sink in.
And then it did.
He was alone. He hadn’t heard anyone
come in. He didn’t recognize the voice. He
turned his head away from the stacks of
reference books crowding his computer desk
and toward the source of the sound.
Hovering outside Daniel’s bedroom
windowsill was a person—only not quite,
because its head was that of a frog. It was
dressed in a purple and red pinstripe suit.
Round red eyes stared out from under a
wide-brimmed top hat covered with so many
colors and holographic stripes it made
Daniel’s eyes water. White-gloved hands
fingered a wooden baton.
The frog man offered a thin smile. "Your
pardon. I realize you must be busy, but I
would like to -"
Daniel sighed and turned back to his
computer. He stared at the blinking line on
his monitor. Nothing put him to sleep like
things he didn’t really want to do. The
Napoleonic Wars had seemed so interesting
at the time.
"Ahem." The frog tapped his cane on the
wall. "Might I come in?"
"Well, why the hell not?" Daniel said. "I haven’t had a lucid dream in forever." He
stretched his arms behind his head and spun
on his swivel chair. "Make yourself at
home."
He watched with mild interest as the
frog-person struggled to wedge itself through
the window. Spindly limbs that were too
long for its tiny torso made the process a bit
awkward. Once inside, it stood straight.
"May I sit?"
"Be my guest."
The frog swept its hat from its perch
over those red eyes and sat on the edge of
Daniel’s bed. "Thank you. Mr. Daniel
Thomas Fitzgerald, if I’m not mistaken?
Sometimes I muddle the pronunciation of
your names."
"You got it right this time. What are you
supposed to be?"
The frog looked miffed. "My full name
is Xikanthus Vol'mund Dovian
pom’Nafalstra, but you may call me Xik."
"Xik," Daniel said. "Welcome to my
dreams. What can I do for you?"
"I can see you’re the down-to-earth sort.
That is one of the more common
assumptions, but I can assure you this is not a
dream. You’ve been chosen for a purpose of
vital import."
"Awesome. Let’s hear it."
"…I’ve shielded the room so your
reaction didn’t alert your household, but I
suppose that was unnecessary. I understand
we look like one of your more common
amphibians?"
"Yeah, a frog," Daniel agreed.
"And yet you are…" Xik made a vague
gesture. "…nonplussed. I admit I expected a
measure of panic. Surprise, at least."
"I guess fantasy stories had to be
grounded in something," Daniel said. "Here
you are. Or maybe I’ve played too many
video games and I’m desensitized to the idea
of circus freaks popping in through my
bedroom window."
"I admit I’m abnormal by your
standards, but freak is too strong a term."
"Just calling it like I see it. Why the hell
are you wearing that?"
"…I expected a why-are-you-here, to be
honest."
"You’ve got quite a few expectations."
Daniel smirked. "You sneak into bedroom
windows often?"
"Ah…relatively speaking."
"Can I get you a drink? Water? Pond
scum?"
Xik made a face. "Clever." He inspected
the room for a moment. His big red frog eyes
traveled across Daniel’s plain door, stuck
with three movies posters; his gaze lingered
on his bookshelf. There was a stack of old
comic books there, collecting dust, and a
row of video game cases. Finally, he looked
back to Daniel’s face. "I’m fine, but thank
you."
"So, what’s this vital purpose I’ve been
chosen for? Need your gutters cleaned?"
"More like Earth needs its gutters
cleaned." Xik stood again, which Daniel
found odd, considering he’d asked to sit only
thirty seconds ago. His long legs put his head
close to the ceiling. "Daniel F
itzgerald. Your
world is under assault by a vicious race of
creatures known as the Vorid. Throughout the
multiverse, they feed upon the souls of
sentient life, and as such, are diametrically
and irrevocably opposed to any living,
breathing intelligence."
"Funny. I haven’t seen that on the news
lately."
"Magic assists them in remaining
clandestine, but rest assured, these creatures
are very active, and very intent on devouring
humanity." Xik leaned forward. "I am from
another universe that wages open war against
the Vorid. The multiverse, unfortunately, is a
very big place, and our resources are
pressed holding the Vorid where they are.
Our solution to this problem is to empower
other peoples to fight for themselves, thereby
opening multiple fronts against our common
enemy. You have been selected to receive a
means of fighting them on behalf of your
entire race."
Daniel gave a mock-solemn nod. "And
what does that entail, exactly, my amphibious
friend?"
"I am a contract manager, a point of
contact between Humans, and Klide, my own
species. Contract is an approximate term—
our languages aren’t neat equivalents." The
way Xik said the words made Daniel feel as
though he’d said them many times before. "Its
essence is an enchantment which unlocks the
magical power residing within sentient
creatures. Your science has not advanced
enough to do this for you, and so we’ve taken
the initiative ourselves. Agree to the
contract, and you will gain the power to
protect your home, and people." Xik clasped
his hands. "In time, you will be quite
something among your own kind. Your
abilities are yours to do with as you wish—
aside from an obligation to fight the Vorid
whenever you encounter them. This is a war,
after all."
"…let me get this straight. You’re going
to give me magic to fight back against
interdimensional aliens that are attacking
Earth and harvesting our souls for food?"
"More or less," Xik said.
Daniel probed his temples with his
fingertips. "You’ve got to be kidding me."
"I am entirely serious," Xik said. "The power you will obtain is enormous. The
magic you know from your fantasies, your
legends, is at times exaggerated or
incorrectly portrayed, but its might is
formidable. You can become a force for
good, or for whatever cause suits your fancy
—right this very instant. We aren’t
concerned with Earth’s politics and have no
desire to interfere in your society. The only
stipulation we have is that you fight the
Vorid. You will become a warrior for your
people." Xik extended his gloved hand. "Mr.
Fitzgerald. Will you accept this burden? Will
you make the contract and fight for those who
cannot fight for themselves?"
"No."
Xik blinked. "…what?"
"Nope. No thanks. Nein."
"But…humanity is under duress as we
speak. Millions are dead already! And the
magic," Xik added, "once it grows, you’ll be very powerful. You’ll be able to achieve
anything you want."
"Already got plans. I’m going to college,
and then to law school. I don’t want to be a
superhero." Daniel brushed his hair back
around his ears. "Haven’t you read a book
lately? Adventure isn’t all it’s cracked up to
be."
"That’s not the point."
"Even if someone else takes over the
world, he’ll still need a justice department."
"But your friends, your family! They
could be next! The Vorid -"
"Are someone else’s problem." Daniel
folded his arms. "I could get killed in a car
crash tomorrow. A meteorite could destroy
my house. I could get mugged and beaten to
death. Or, I guess could get eaten by Vorid.
Life’s fragile like that."
Xik paused. "And that’s it?"
"That’s it."
Xik took a breath and started again.
"You just really don’t care? You have an
incredible chance to end needless suffering
and become something amazing!"
"I don’t need magic for that." Daniel
sighed. "Sorry, but you knocked on the wrong
door. You can take my winning lottery ticket
to someone else. Promise I don’t mind."
Xik screwed his face up. "How you can
be so disgustingly apathetic is extremely
bothersome."
"Welcome to Earth. Hope you enjoy
your stay." Daniel tilted his head. "Or do you actually think I believe you?"
"You don’t believe me?"
"A mysterious alien shows up in the
middle of the night and offers me a magical
contract—and I’m supposed to just take your
hand and leap off the cliff inside of two
minutes?" Daniel raised an eyebrow.
"There’s a lot I don’t know. You’ve been
pretty vague. I don’t like the word vague
when it’s adjacent to the word obligation.
This could be a demonic ritual for all I
know. What aren’t you telling me, Xik?"
Xik let his arm fall to his side. He
narrowed his eyes. "…you’re very cold for a
human, aren’t you?"
"I don’t like handouts. They tend to
come with leashes."
They stared at each other for a long
moment.
Xik huffed, then put his hands on his
hips. "This approach has worked for every
other human I’ve encountered. Everyone
jumped at the chance."
"I’m not everyone."
"A fine point. Perhaps, if you saw it
with your own eyes, you’d think differently."
Xik waved a hand.
Blue sparks flew over Daniel like a
cloud of shimmering confetti. They settled on
his exposed skin, then vanished. Daniel
stiffened, then felt at his arms with his
fingertips. "…what the hell was that?"
"That spell will let you see through their
illusion. Nothing more."
"Right. Thanks."
Xik gathered up his puke-colored hat,
fixed it atop his head, and leaned out the
window. He glanced back over his shoulder.
"Are you sure that -"
"Positive."
"A good night to you, then." The eclectic
frog threaded its long legs back over the
windowsill, which was like watching a
multicolored toothpick jab itself through a
hole. In a flutter of white curtains, Xik was
gone.
Daniel sighed and sat back. His index
finger automatically started working at his
lock of hair. This was the weirdest dream
he’d ever had. Had he looked up something
on Wikipedia about frogs or top hats?
He rejected Xik’s offer more out of
spite for how ina
ne it all was than anything
else, but the lack of information was a real
concern, too. Daniel’s goal of law school
might be uneventful, but he’d take boredom
over eternal suffering any day. Just look what
happened to Faust.
"Hey Danny!"
Felix burst into his room. His seven-
year-old brother dangled in off the doorknob
by his hands. The door’s hinges groaned and
creaked as they bore the sudden weight.
Daniel, having stiffened in alarm, sighed
back into his chair. "You’ll break it if you
keep doing that."
"Whoa!" Felix’s hands slipped off the
knob. He collapsed to the floor, then got to
his feet while Daniel laughed. "It’s not
funny!"
"Absolutely. Not funny at all." Daniel
forced his face to be overly-serious. "No
laughing allowed."
Felix folded his arms and tried to mash
his lips into a frown, but eventually a smile
broke through anyway. "Ok, I guess it was
kinda funny." Felix brushed his pants, then
his hair. Daniel’s hair was dark brown, but
Felix’s was a much lighter mix with plenty of
gold. Brown from James. Gold from mom.
"Are you here to injure yourself for my
entertainment, or is there something you
wanted?" Daniel asked.
"Um, dinner’s ready."
"At least you would have broken your
neck for a good cause."
Daniel clicked the save button on his
computer and followed Felix down the
stairs. They clomped across the tile of their
kitchen. James, their father, busied himself
moving cooked food from the stove onto
potholders waiting on their square wooden
table.
Three sides of the table were set. The
fourth spot was empty. Plates and silverware
and napkins gave that fourth spot a wide
berth in the same way that pedestrians avoid
a ragged, smelly bum lying in the dark corner
of a subway. Something they’d rather not talk
about, not look at, and just altogether pretend
didn’t exist.
Daniel tried to ignore the way in which
everything was squeezed onto the other
three-quarters of the table. He inhaled the
scent of garlic bread that wafted out of the
kitchen. They’d had pasta and garlic bread
quite a bit lately—it was easy to make—but
that was fine with him. He would eat pasta
every day if he could.
They all sat down and scooted their
chairs into the table. There was a flurry of
clinks and slops as they doled out the sauce