Gareth looked around the strange office where the flying taxi had deposited them. The room was large and airy, but mostly empty, except for a few racks of clothes near one gray wall and a couple of triple mirrors standing in the back corner on his right, plus a pair of blue couches in the middle.
Still, Morty seemed at home, and Xiomber as well. Both took seats on the one couch and gestured Gareth to the other.
Outside, the taxi dove out of sight and the balcony door closed, sealing them off from the cotton-candy skies of Orgoth Vortai.
“Welcome,” a disembodied, male voice filled the oversized room. “What’ll it be, Morty, Xiomber? You two finally ready to dress better?”
Gareth had to agree with the voice. Both lizardmen were wearing something rough equivalent to common dungarees in blue, with pull-over T-shirts, Xiomber’s in black and Morty’s red with the strange design on the front. Gareth felt desperately overdressed in his Field Agent uniform. The two lizardmen dressed like a couple of machinists out for a beer after work.
“Nothing so grand, Jorghen,” Morty called back. “And I sure as hell wouldn’t have you do my wardrobe. Need to make the Vanir here look less memorable. His name’s Gareth.”
Vanir? Oh, right. Not human. Short Vanir. That’s the cover story. I can do that.
“Gareth?” the man asked. “Stand up and walk to the mirrors on your right.”
Gareth did, nervous, but not too much. Socially awkward, maybe.
His image came back in triplicate from the nine-foot-tall mirrors. A light flashed in his eyes, and the image in the reflection was suddenly wearing black pants, baggy enough that they covered his boots instead of tucking in. The Sky Patrol tunic was gone, as well. In its place, a plain, white t-shirt, underneath a button-down, button-up shirt in Sky Patrol plaid colors. A jacket appeared over top of that after a moment, blue denim like the Yuudixtl pair’s pants, with bronzed buttons and a small SP button stuck through the flap of the left breast pocket.
Hey, that wasn’t bad looking.
“Why not just take him to a department store?” Jorghen’s disembodied voice came from all around a moment later.
“He gets self-conscious, shopping in the kids section, Jorghen,” Morty fired back. “You, of all people, should appreciate that.”
Jorghen had a crude laugh. Ugly. The bully at school picking on the other kids, at least until Gareth put a stop to it. But discretion was still called for here.
“You like that, Gareth?” Jorghen asked. “The fashion’s a little offbeat, but that’s what your subconscious wanted.”
Gareth turned a nervous eye to the two Yuudixtl scientists. Morty nodded. So did Xiomber.
“Yeah,” Gareth admitted.
He couldn’t remember the last time he had dressed as a civilian. It had to be before he went off to school, ten years ago. The guy in the mirror looked like a cowboy, in the good ways. Like maybe if he added a hat, he could star in Westerns. Add a seven point star and he could be the town marshal.
“Okay,” Jorghen said. “Take me about thirty minutes to kick it out. You leaving the other outfit here?”
Gareth panicked. Give up my Field Agent uniform? Never.
“Uhm, no,” he settled for, rather than unleashing a blistering stream of the sorts of profanities he had first learned from the enlisted Chief on his first command.
“Put it on my account, Jorghen,” Morty said. “And spin him up a set of formal robes, as well. Something High Street, but without all the flash of an investment banker. Low profile, as it were. We need to be able to eat at a fancy restaurant with a dress code.”
“Add about ten minutes then,” the man said. “Coming right up. Have some tea while you wait.”
Gareth thought about it, but he really needed to pee. More tea would make it worse.
Instead, he leaned close the two criminals.
“Uhm, I need to use the facilities,” he whispered.
“Through there,” Xiomber pointed.
“But…”
“Erect bipeds, Gareth,” Morty said. “Same design. Find the target at your height. Simple as that.”
Gareth blushed and nodded.
When he got up this morning, peeing in an alien toilet was not anywhere on his list of things to consider. Still, he was Sky Patrol. He could do this.
The door opened easy enough. A counter with a mirror and a sink on the left. Stalls and urinals on the right. A red light came on as he stepped close to one.
Motion sensor.
Still, he managed, even with all the extra publicity. It flushed itself as he backed up and looked around.
There were no handles on the faucet.
None.
He got lucky and it went off when he passed a hand underneath.
Huh.
That was smart.
Out in the main room, the boys were sipping more tea. Gareth passed, for now. There was enough caffeine in his system for one day. And it was close to midnight, back on Earth. He would need to sleep soon.
In fact, the couch looked comfortable. He sat down, leaned back, and closed his eyes.
“Wake up, sleepy head,” a merry voice intruded. “You need to change and put your stuff in the bag.”
Gareth climbed out of his bizarre dreams, into his bizarre reality. Hopefully this one was better.
He really didn’t want to see a tentacled cow again. Like, ever.
The outfit from the mirror was hanging on hooks next to the mirror itself. Quickly, Gareth transformed himself into an Undercover Agent working a deep mission. A cowboy, even. The boots were wrong, but hopefully none of the locals would notice.
The Field Agent uniform got folded up exactly to regulation and put away, atop a piece of fabric that appeared to be a thick, soft black silk, shot through with red and cream glitter. It was the most beautiful piece of fabric he had ever seen.
“Thank you, sir,” Secret Agent Gareth said to the room as he picked up and bag and slung the strap over his shoulder.
“Any time, Gareth,” Jorghen said. “It’s interesting, watching the machines locate the clothes you want to wear, as opposed to what society would inflict on a short Vanir.”
“Let’s go,” Morty groused. “Time’s wasting.”
Out the door and onto the balcony. Another taxi settled in and opened for them. Gareth followed the little men into the cabin and leaned back, seatbelts in place.
“Now what?” he asked sleepily.
“Now we’ve got a little bit of a jaunt,” Morty said. “Why don’t you sleep for now, and we’ll wake you up when we get there.”
“I could never…” Gareth began to say as the day caught up with him and darkness descended.