Captain Smith and The Numbers Game
by Chris Dabnor
“Ah, Captain Smith, do come in, do come in. Please, take a seat.”
“Thank you sir.”
“Medal?” The Flight Commander waved a box in front of Smith.
“Thank you sir.” Smith picked out a silver medal, with a bright blue ribbon. “This should complement my dress uniform quite nicely, don’t you think?”
”Yes, very nicely. Will you be paying cash, or…”
“Charge it to my account please sir.”
“Of course, of course.” He pressed a button on his desk. “Miss Jenkins, do be a dear and charge Captain Smith’s account for a Blue Star of Valour will you? Thank you. Now, Smith, down to business.” The Flight Commander linked his fingers across his stomach.
“Yes sir.”
“Well, that was another jolly good performance today. 5 was it?”
“Yes sir, 5 of the blighters. Most tenacious they were. Almost as if they didn’t want to be shot.”
”Quite. 183 all told, isn’t it?”
“187 actually sir. There was the thing in Spain.”
“Oh yes,” the Flight Commander laughed, “I always forget the thing in Spain. Anyway, 183, 187, all very impressive. But there is one thing…”
“What’s that sir?”
“The numbers boys. They’re not happy. Not happy at all.”
”Oh? Why?”
The Flight Commander stood and walked over to a flipchart, on which was a tactical map of Italy. He flipped the map over, revealing a graph.
“It’s this, you see. Sales of your merchandise are falling.”
”Falling sir? Any idea why?”
“Well, we British have a tendency to support the underdog, and, what with you being all but indestructible, people are getting a little bored. The whole rags to riches story was all well and good, working class boy comes good and all that, but now you’re on the television all the time, with supermodels, at fancy nightclubs, or driving expensive things. You’re seen as one of the cultural elite, and the working class stiffs who make up your target market simply can’t identify.”
“Really sir?”
“Yes, look at this.” He pointed to the graph. “T-shirt sales down 25%”. He flipped over to the next page. “Action figures down 7%. Fortunately, children still tend to support heroes.”
Smith blushed.
“Oh, you are a hero, no denying that. 187…” His voice trailed off slightly. “Anyway.” He flipped to the next page. “Memorial plates, down 38%- it seems people are running out of room.” He laughed nervously.
“So, sir, what’s to be done?”
“Well, we have a new line of merchandise.” He picked up a T-shirt from the desk. It had a picture of Smith, behind him was his famous Crusader plane, with it’s distinct lightning bolt motif, and behind that, the Union Jack fluttered. Below the image was the slogan “Come Home Safely Captain Smith.”
“I… I don’t understand sir.”
“Well, the boys in marketing think that if you were to fall behind enemy lines, the public would rally behind you again. Merchandise sales rocket and everyone’s happy.”
“But I’m needed in the war effort.”
“That’s OK, it’s all been taken care of.”
“What do you mean sir?”
“We’ve spoken to the enemy, and they’re quite happy to sort things out their end.”
“Sort things out their end? But they’re the enemy.”
“Well, yes, but war is expensive business, and we all have expenses to pay.”
“You’re paying the enemy to shoot me down?”
“Yes, but don’t worry, they’ll make sure you can bail out OK, and they’ve arranged for supplies and a medical team to be sent to your location, in exchange for a bigger cut of the profits from your merchandise.”
“A bigger cut? You mean they already have a cut?”
“Yes, of course. It’s been a most lucrative arrangement thus far. You don’t think you’ve stayed alive thus far through skill alone do you?”
“Well, sir, actually, I did.”
“Don’t be naïve. Remember when you were dueling with the Thunder Duke and he pulled away when he had you in his sights?”
“Yes, of course sir. He had a weapons system malfunction”
“Weapons malfunction? He was flying a Kestrel MKII. When was the last time you heard of one of those malfunction?”
“Never, sir.”
”Exactly. He was ordered to return to base. Anyway, when you go up next, he and his squadron will be up against you.”
“What if I win?”
“If you do, I’m sure we can get sales that way, I suppose, but, you see, we’ve got all that business covered.”
“What do you mean sir?”
“Don’t worry about that old thing, you just go up and put up a good fight.”
“What if I refuse?”
”Now now, don’t be such a spoilsport. We’re sure you’ll pull through it, and when you return, it’ll be to a heroes welcome. Tell you what, I’ll even throw in a free medal or two. Now, go and get some rest, you’ve a big day ahead of you.”
“But..”
“Come come, when have I ever let you down?”
“Never sir.”
“See, now run along, I’m a busy man.”
“Of course sir.” Smith turned and made for the door.
“Oh, and Smith?”
“Yes sir?”
“Good luck, we’re all rooting for you.”
“Er, thank you sir.” Bemused, Smith left the room.
The Flight Captain pressed the button his desk again. “Miss Jenkins? Do be a love and get the Thunder Duke on the line for me. Thank you.”