by IGMS
"I am a leader that in a strange place is trying to protect my Family, keep them safe and make them strong."
Ardam understood this, but it did not change the problem.
"I am sorry for your . . . difficulty, but our seedlings are under this ground. They must be born."
There were more sounds from the crowd. The appearance on their faces was so mixed that Ardam didn't think they were all feeling the same way. Why would they?
"Ardam, we are not able to move. We used all of the resources we were given to settle here." Toumani exhaled heavily. "We have been here six months. There was no sign of habitation when we arrived."
Months? Surely he didn't mean seasons. His energy was not strong enough about the issue for the Barter to interpret the meaning. That no one was here when they arrived, he must have been referring to the rainy season.
"We were in the south, where it is warm and dry."
"Yes, the rain was vicious when we arrived," the Mayor said.
Ardam studied Toumani's face. He needed to determine the words that would sway him. "Do you not care about our children?" Only a most evil adversary would not. If these beings were evil, it would make his choice of actions much clearer. While Ardam's Family were not warriors, their allies, the Nemek Family, were. He could call upon their contract and have an army in a few days' time.
Mayor Toumani Shaw extended his hand toward someone off to his left. A small child was handed to him. She looked at Ardam and buried her face against the Mayor's shoulder. "We have our own children to worry about."
Not an evil answer. Maybe he could use the Nemek for intimidation. Maybe there were possibilities he hadn't seen yet. This was not beyond talking, but no more could be accomplished now. Since the Mayor had been honorable in his dealings, it was only reasonable that Ardam be honorable about his intent.
"You should prepare to leave. I will not allow you to stay and harm our children."
The light one with the stick stepped forward. "Look, we're here and we have the blasters to hold this land."
Ardam felt anxiety from the Mayor and while the word blasters was not entirely clear to him, he had no doubt the statement was a threat. It was obvious where the danger with the two-legs resided. But Toumani had the power. He set the child down, put his hand on the other's shoulder and pulled him back.
"Let us evaluate and discuss the situation amongst ourselves. We do not wish to harm your children but I am at a loss for a solution."
It seemed he and Mayor Toumani Shaw were not so different; but if they were equally determined, there would be conflict.
"Yes," Ardam said. "I will return in three days. Let us hope we can come to an accord." Three days would be enough to call the Nemek, enough to give Ardam some options.
The Mayor surprised him by extending his hand. It was a significant show of faith. Ardam took it and did not extend the barbs. "I hope we can be friends," Toumani said.
At that moment, Ardam did not want to summon the Nemek -- but he had to protect the seedlings. Whatever plan he came up with, he hoped he did not have to hurt these beings. As long as Toumani Shaw remained in control he knew violence would be a last resort. He did not know enough about their society to guess whether that was likely to happen.
Ardam turned and retraced his steps out of the cavernous structure, the caucus followed silently behind. There was much planning to be done.
Late in the night the moons sat low in the indigo sky. The caucus sat in a rough circle in the middle of the Family's camp. Two dozen branflee sticks surrounded them. The sticks were dipped in the insect's own jelly; the luminous bugs let off a green glow and a cacophony of clicking sounds while they gathered and ate. It not only provided light for the gathering, but a screen of privacy. No one outside the circle would hear them unless the debate turned into a shouting match, and Ardam had not yet allowed that to happen.
A skin of klem wine was passed around and each member poured their own cup. Ardam was trying to put the caucus at ease. He didn't think they were going to like his idea of taking the young ones to the next meeting with the two-legs. To have them relaxed when he introduced this would be much better.
They drank and the skin was passed around again. Raychit looked at him and from the curl of her ear and the set of her rightmost eye, it seemed his friend had figured out his plan to loosen them up. It was a knowing look, but Raychit had enough faith in him to let it pass. The third time the wine went around he noticed that Raychit poured little more than a swallow, much like he himself had been doing. His friend was not going to ruin his plan but she would not succumb to it either. If it landed to her when Ardam passed, Raychit would make a good Paramount.
"Mayor Toumani Shaw is to be respected in our dealings with the two-legs. With that in mind, what are your thoughts?" Ardam asked the group.
Raychit spoke first. "With all respect, we must summon the Nemek. While the Mayor has been honorable, I do not trust his cohorts, especially the pale one."
The group grunted assent.
"I have already considered this and I regretfully agree," Ardam said. "My friend, will you be the messenger that brings them here? But I must ask that you do it with my fourth heart, the one that holds my compassion. Make them understand that they will not attack unless called upon. They are truly our last choice of action."
"We will owe them whether they fight, or not," Ezcar said.
"And if they stay too long we will have to protect our spouses," Hefkot added. Ardam knew that long in the past, when the last Paramount held the post, Nemek fighters took Hefkot's first spouse. Even though she was returned, he was never the same.
Terron spoke. "They will not need to stay long. The fate of our seedlings will be decided before the little moon rises again." He huffed and a low growl rolled from his throat. His words were far calmer than his language.
"I will summon the Nemek with your fourth heart, Paramount," Raychit said to Ardam.
"And of the next meeting, what do you feel will sway the two-legs? For it does not seem that Toumani Shaw stands alone when making decisions," Ardam said.
Kaliff had been quiet all this time, two of her eyes closed in thought. "He said their resources were limited. Why do we not extend a charitable hand and give them what we can to help them on their way? We have food to spare and there are several members of my Family that would serve as willing guides to help them find a new home."
Having the second largest Family, Kaliff had always been a generous soul. In some ways, that generosity might have been what kept her from being on Ardam's left, but Kaliff never seemed to mind her post.
The caucus responded with huffs and whistles, some from surprise, some from dissent.
Ezcar spoke first. "Why should we share our bounty when they threaten our seedlings?"
Raychit ground her disapproval deep and low in her throat.
Then Hefkot said, "They are troublemakers! We should not help them."
Kaliff responded. "They did not arrive with malicious intent. Until today, they did not know we existed. Since when are we not a generous Family?"
Ardam liked the suggestion. It fit nicely with his strategy and being Paramount, he had final say. "I agree with Kaliff. We will donate a portion of our goods to help them relocate."
Once the decision was handed down, the debate was over. The mood however did not return to calm. Ardam usually liked having more agreement within the caucus, but this time he truly felt he knew what was best. He understood Toumani Shaw in a way the others could not. He had to trust his mind and his hearts.
Ardam stood. By raising himself above those in the circle he was removing his words from discussion and making them a mandate. "In three day's time, I will take our children to meet with the two-legs. The caucus will remain here."
For the first time, the branflee chatter was not enough to quell the uprising from the caucus. They were beyond words. Chuffs and chattery whistles and keening notes broke over the secluded circle. Members of the Family stopped and s
tared at them. A wave of nervous twitters ruffled through the crowd. Ardam growled a low note but the caucus paid no heed. All the Family became restless though they didn't know why. His anger stirred.
Ardam changed his pitch to a warning wail. Some quieted but still the rants continued. He stood taller and filled his torso with air. Anticipation alone dropped more Family members into silence. Then Ardam let out a rippled bellow that rumbled full force through his throat pouch, vibrating from deep in his body.
Even the branflees went silent, their lights dimmed.
He waited and let the silence stretch until it was clear that he held control. Ardam did not yell but spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. "The two-legs understand the importance of children. In three days I will call upon our children to save their unborn siblings. I do not believe I will be putting them at risk."
Raychit interrupted. Indeed, she was the only one that could at that moment. "Are you willing to pledge your life on that?"
It was the Ferrago Challenge. If Ardam didn't accept, his decision could be overturned by the caucus. If he accepted and any of the children were injured, his life would be forfeit. He focused three eyes on Raychit. Was this a play for power or was she testing Ardam's resolve? Either was within her right.
"Yes." Ardam said. He didn't fear Toumani Shaw's response, but now his life depended on how the two-legs responded. He would have to consider his approach carefully.
The Family waited for more. He whistled a calming note, one of the primary tones from the Family's song. "Every one of you is my child. I will protect you."
After a long pause, Raychit sang the first note. It would be wrong for her not to honor her Paramount, regardless of whether she agreed with him. Kaliff added the second note, as was proper, and the sequence descended through the caucus. Then the rest joined in with their pitches that made up the Family song. Ardam had demanded their obedience and he was getting it. When they were all singing he added his note, the one that unified them all, and with a final pitch change, brought the song to an end.
In that silent moment, the stress of the day dissolved with the song and Ardam realized he was exhausted. He would not show it, of course. Stepping past the branflee sticks he strode out of the circle and toward the top of the ridge where he could observe the town. He settled and entrenched his toes deep in the comforting soil. No matter how tired he was he needed to appear strong. He had a promise to keep - and the Family needed to believe that he could do it.
End of Part 1
The Flittiest Catch
by Robert Lowell Russell
Artwork by M. Wayne Miller
* * *
"Black eyes," says the captain. "Like a doll's eyes, 'cause, you know," he shrugs, "they were dolls." He takes a drag from a hand-rolled cigarette, holds his breath, then lets the smoke escape from his mouth. "Had me some strange catches in these seas."
He offers the cigarette to the cameraman. "Toke? It's my own blend of Jamaican red hair and peyote." The captain grins. "Makes trans-dimensional fishing possible. We've got a galley full of snacks if you get the munchies."
He rubs his bleary eyes. "Wish I had robots. Robots are good. Robots are accustomed to repetition. Robots don't complain." The captain sighs. "But they refuse to accept the existence of . . ." He waves his hand at the view outside the wheelhouse window. "All of this."
Pink and purple clouds billow beyond the ship. Zeppelin-sized balloons attached on the port and starboard sides hold the vessel aloft. Sailors, wearing slickers, scramble over the deck, going about their tasks -- each man has a doobie hanging from their lip. An undulating rainbow looms, then crashes into the side of the boat, showering the crew with multicolored sprinkles.
A deckhand hurls a grapple attached to a rope over the side of the boat, then quickly hauls it back, popping a hooked line into winch blocks. The men wait as the line winds over the side.
As the last of the line is hauled aboard, a metal cage breaches up through the clouds and bangs against the side of the ship. Denby, the deck boss, works a crane to swing the trap over the side, and crewmen dump the catch onto a metal sorting table. Tiny, golden-winged fairies slip and slide over its surface.
"Not a bad haul," says the captain before punching an intercom. "Set it back."
Below, a crewman nods, scrambling to the trap to switch an empty bait sack for one stuffed with yellow marshmallow PEEPS®.
The captain chuckles. "Sugar gets fairies drunker than skunks. Don't even mind when we catch 'em."
On deck, the crew vacuums shimmering dust off the fairies. As they finish vacuuming, one man dumps a bin of wriggling, harvested fairies back over the side of the boat.
"Pixie dust," says the captain. "The king of all sweeteners. The more you eat, the less you weigh. It's like we're sucking gold off these critters!"
His face turns grim. "But it ain't all fun and games. The fleet loses two men a month, on average. Some fall overboard . . ." He shakes his head. "Most jump. All the psych tests in the world ain't worth barnacles." The captain points to the swirling clouds outside. "Until you're actually here, you can't know how you're going to react. People don't understand how bad every fiber of your being is begging for you to jump ship so you can go prancing about with the unicorns, elves, and whatever else is down there."
He pounds a fist on a chart covered table. "Mate of mine -- fished with him for twenty-five years -- up and jumps one day. Man goes overboard, you got maybe ten minutes, fifteen tops, to get them back before they're lost."
The captain holds a hand to the camera, splaying his fingers. "My mate was gone five months before he found his way back to reality -- most don't come back at all -- and in that time, the fairies had taken thirty years from him. Thirty years!"
He shakes his head. "Cops found him wandering in a hardware store in Boise, buck naked. No one could hardly recognize him. He had a body of a teenager and a teenaged erection to go with it. Said he needed a hammer and nails to build a house for some wood nymph he'd met in Never Land."
The captain looks away. "Creeped me out when I saw his smile. I mean, the man had a wife, another wife, five kids, a mortgage, responsibilities. All that, just torn away."
He is quiet for several seconds, then straightens in his chair and points out the window. "Looks like they're going to prank the greenhorn. Should be good."
On deck, a young sailor holds a pixie to his ear.
"Probably told him a fairy will whisper his future if he listens close," says the captain, leaning forward in his chair.
Below, the young man shrieks and claps a hand to his head, his ear bleeding profusely.
The captain guffaws. "Those little bastards have some sharp teeth," he says, slapping his knee. "Heard on one boat, they got a greenhorn to stick a fairy down his --"
Suddenly, he leaps from his seat and jams a thumb on the intercom. "Man overboard! Man overboard! Denby jumped!"
The captain shoves past the cameraman to rumble down the wheelhouse stairs. "Damned if I'm losin' anyone today!" he shouts.
The cameraman follows, stumbling his way down the stairs. Below, the captain is bolting out of a hatch as the camera pans the scene. Moments later, the captains runs back in. "They got him, by God! Bring him in!" he calls over his shoulder before sweeping the remnants of breakfast from a galley table.
Deckhands carry Denby through the hatch -- a deflated weather balloon reading emergency flotation is still attached to his back.
"Soooo sparkly," the deck boss babbles. "I saw fields of puppies. Mommy, can I have a puppy?"
With practiced haste, a sailor unbolts a kit from the wall. Inside is a can of beer, a screwdriver, and a DVD. He punches the screwdriver into the can, and the captain takes the beer and holds it to Denby's mouth, then pops the top. Another crewman slips the DVD into a player, and the screen flickers to life.
Denby sputters on the beer.
"That's it, son," says the captain, "Drink."
"Magically delicious," says Denby, beer drippin
g down his chin. He stares at the TV. "So pretty."
On the screen, a bikini-clad woman straps a helmet to her head and climbs aboard a monster truck. She revs the engine, and with a Dukes of Hazard scream, drives through a minigolf course, leaving crushed plastic clowns and windmills behind. The scene shifts to more bikini-clad woman playing volleyball.
"So pretty," repeats the deck boss. His eyes widen. "So . . . frickin' hot!"
Evident relief washes over the captain's face, and the crew high-five each other.
"We got him back," says the captain to the camera. "He's going to be OK."
After several minutes of hugs and tears, the crew helps Denby to his bunk and the captain makes his way back to the wheelhouse. His hands shake as he grips the ship's wheel.
"They tell you there will be days like this on these seas," he says. "What they don't tell you is how many."
On deck, the sailors are already back to their tasks. A flock of flying monkeys now circles above them, flinging poo.
"But this is the job," says the captain. "Shit happens."
Always Here
by Ken Liu
Artwork by Emily Tolson
* * *
I was seven when Anna first spoke to me.
"What's that?" a voice asked. It sounded like a girl.
I was alone in my room, building a model rocket. I looked around.
"Who's there?"
I checked the radio on the shelf and the CD player on my desk. Both were off. I pulled open the curtains to look for Dad, who liked playing pranks. The yard was empty in the summer twilight.
"What's that?"
The voice didn't come from anywhere. She was talking from inside my head.
"Who are you?"
"Call me Anna. What's that?"
I went back to my desk. "It's a rocket," I said. I had just finished painting the body red but hadn't attached the white fins yet.
"You're going to fly a bigger one someday?"