by Rob Hunter

"Come on in the house. We'll have to use the kitchen phone. The linoleum? Your slime trail? I hope I'm not hurting your feelings, but Bonnie's new carpet..."

"I am a princess of the blood. We are held to a higher degree of accountability. Linoleum will be fine," said the Princess Ackaetia.

"Harry Pease should be in." Simon was warming to the challenge. "He can do a telephone tree to get Troo 136 out of retirement. Careful on the welcome mat. Astroturf," cautioned Simon.

In the street a car door slammed, an engine revved. Bonnie had left a note pinned to a peach basket on the kitchen table:

I'll be at Alma's. Those damned aloha shirts of yours were one thing. I will not be a laughing stock at the checkout line of the Red and White again. Call me when you come to your senses. The pot roast is turned off. Indefinitely.

Wearing his aloha shirt outside of the house was a minor rebellion that Bonnie had never forgiven. By Simon's lights, most folks who bought them on vacation never summoned up the raw courage required to wear them in Willipaq, Maine. Simon picked up the phone. "Harry and I used to be close. We went all the way to Eagle Scout side by side."

Harry picked up on the third ring, just as the answering machine cut in. "...not home right now. Wait for the..." CLICK. "I'm here, godammit. Simon? I know it's you, I got caller ID," said Harry.

"Harry? Remember when you said I had space aliens living in my teapot?"

"That was 1982. Besides, I meant it as a compliment to your powers of imagination. Have you been nursing a grudge all these years?"

"Nonononono. I got one. A space alien, not a grudge. Her name is Princess Ackaetia Urnoous and we need your help." Simon related the morning's doings.

"So Bonnie's left you. If I was twenty years younger... Oh, what the hell, come on over. And bring the Princess." Harry hung up.

"He says yes," said Simon.

"Thank you," said the Princess Ackaetia. "This will mean a reprieve for uncounted billions. And now, how's about that beer?"

* * *

Harry Pease rose painfully. "Door's open. Come on in." He walked with two canes, his knees ravaged by arthritis, shattered by sports injuries, and at the moment between surgeries. Simon entered carrying the peach basket with the Princess Ackaetia inside. A cloud of flying insects swarmed in behind them and headed straight at Harry's head.

"Shit!" said Harry. "Holy shit. I thought it was too late in the season." He reached for the spray can of bug killer he kept at the ready near the door. The insect cloud dropped like a rock. All but for two. Spouting tiny streams of electric fire they made for a spot right between Harry's eyes. "Yikes!" Harry dropped the bug spray and swung one cane in a roundhouse right. There was a tiny "ding" and a mid-air flash of the kind courting fireflies give. "What the hell was that all about?"

"You have just faced down a direct assault by the remnants of Prince Philo Gulesi's fleet and prevailed. You must come from hardy stock," said the peach basket.

"Well, it still stings," said Harry Pease, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I don't recall you being a ventriloquist, Simon. Alright, suppose you have got a space alien in your peach basket. Lemme have a peek at her."

"You asked for it." Simon lifted the peach basket.

"A princess of the blood doesn't get out much. I amuse myself as I may," said Princess Ackaetia. An oversized garden slug peered coyly up at Harry Pease.

"She was a pin-up girl when I met her," said Simon.

"Fleeing ravishment or abduction by an unrelenting suitor," said the Princess. "You appear to have more legs than Simon. Are you certain that this is not Barsoom? One time when my kitten ran off he returned chewing a very entertaining manuscript. About your world? I have to know how it ends. You have a copy." This was a statement not a question.

"That would be Edgar Rice Burroughs' Captain John Carter series," Simon said. "Carter of Mars? I have it but it is hard to get at. Bonnie put all my paperbacks away in the attic."

"As long as you have it; that is enough. I shall grant you an indulgence."

"Kitten..." Simon breathed easier. That the Princess Ackaetia would have a kitten leveled the playing field between them, the human and the quasi-divine.

"I am trying to use terms with which you will be familiar. A lizard, actually. Rather large and ill-tempered and with a fondness for fresh meat. He ate one of my tutors. I once asked that tutor why is the kaleidoscope and was this particular kaleidoscope a threat."

"What were your late tutor's feelings on kaleidoscopes?"

"Much as his feelings on elopement and the bridal consummation. He said I must squinch my eyes together and pray hard."

Harry paled and sat down abruptly. "Ahh... I beg your pardon, Princess. You said an unrelenting suitor. Prince Philo... who?"

"Gulesi. Philo Gulesi. I have not always been inside a peach basket, you know. I remember once I showed up in the air space of a thermopane picture window," said Princess Ackaetia. "Like mist, you know, in Bayonne, New Jersey. The faithful mobbed the house. I leaked. No mist, no miraculous apparition. You have shown sufficient deference. You'll do."

"Ahh... I'll do what?" said Harry Pease.

"Stop a civil war, save the known universe. For this we will require the assistance of the original Boy Scouts who built the kaleidoscope," said the scope virgin.

Harry stared at the Princess Ackaetia. "You are a space alien? Really?"

"I may be an alien here. At home I am queen-apparent."

"OK, OK," said Harry Pease. "Enough already. I'm a believer. Simon, I figured you only needed a drink with a buddy. Because of Bonnie and all? I didn't dream I'd be meeting a bona fide princess who lives in a peach basket and looks like live bait. Simon," said Harry, "...how old are we?"

"Uh, seventy-two. So?"