by Rudy Rucker
“All right,” she said finally.
Frek felt for the knobby sucker in the darkness, and yanked it off as abruptly as he could. Renata grunted and thrashed in pain. But then it was over, and she was slipping into the suit, Frek helping her to find the arm and leg holes. She fit the turkle inside the suit with her.
“Take my blaster,” said Frek, pressing it into her hand. “But don’t shoot until we all get suits on. We’ll be sucking vacuum once we blow a hole in the side of Atmen. Call the others over here, and remind Dad not to shoot his blaster yet either.”
And then Frek focused inward, vaaring kenner. Even though they must have been thousands of kilometers from any solid matter other than their ship, this particular location proved to be kenner-rich. In just minutes, he’d pulled five baseball-sized globs from the void, and a few minutes after that he’d crafted them into kenny spacesuits for him, Dad, Wow, Woo, and even Yessica. He wasn’t making these new spacesuits look like vigs or Unipuskers, he was leaving them transparent. He wished the Unipusker spacesuits were as sturdy as the Orpolese ones—but he didn’t dare tinker with the complex design. Once he’d crafted the spacesuits he also made a flashlight flower like he’d had at home, a ten-centimeter kritter with a luminous blossom.
Meanwhile Renata called the others to them. Gibby slashed easily through the underbrush of tentacles with his knife, the dogs in his wake. And Dad simply tore his way toward them with his arms, Yessica close behind.
For now, Nefertiti, Tutankh, and Smenkh were keeping well away from them. Playing the beam of his flashlight flower amidst Atmen’s lax tentacles, Frek glimpsed the Radiolarians lurking in the tangled thickets, doing their best to wriggle out of the light. Down where Gibby had cut the main stalks of Atmen’s five tentacles he saw jelly-globs of transparent goo. Atmen was regenerating her tissues to heal her cuts.
A few desperate, trembling moments passed before Frek and his companions were all garbed in their transparent spacesuits. As before, the suits fed them air and transmitted their voices. Just as Frek was telling the others about how you could move by speaking commands to your suit, Atmen’s tentacles came back into play.
The great sea cucumber’s lashing fan tendrils were strong and unbelievably fast. But Renata and Dad were faster. They fired their blasters before the tentacles could seize them. The beams charred a hole in Atmen’s outer wall—and she ruptured.
Drawn along by the rush of air, the party flew outward into the vacuum, banging into each other, tumbling head over heels. It took Frek a minute to form the proper commands to his suit to stop his careening through space. Gibby managed too, then Dad and Renata. The dogs and Yessica went pinwheeling off into the distance.
“I’ll go for them,” said Dad, and with a few quick words to his suit he was on his way.
Renata and Gibby joined Frek, frowning back at the giant split-open sea cucumber. Nefertiti, Tutankh, and Smenkh remained enmeshed in the dangling tendrils. Firooz’s cut-up body fragments were reassembling themselves, and Atmen was still moving. There was no reason to believe she wouldn’t heal herself.
“Should I blast them some more?” wondered Renata.
“Let’s wait till the others get back,” suggested Frek. “Let Atmen have it if it looks like she’s going to fire at us. But she probably won’t. We’re worth more to her alive than dead.”
Meanwhile the others kept up a steady low chatter of conversation. Renata was studying the alien sea cucumber in the way she did when she was remembering something she wanted to draw. Right now she couldn’t get at the turkle tucked inside her suit.
Frek tore his attention away from Renata and stared off into the distance. The bright binary suns of the Unipusk system were to his left. To the right lay the tiny red-yellow disk of Jumm, with Unipusk a speck beside it. Closer by were the lively shapes of Dad, the dogs, and Yessica, making their way back. Oh, oh. A flying saucer was coming up behind them.
“Hurry, Dad,” said Frek into his spacesuit.
“I hope it’s Evawrt and Gawrnier,” put in Renata. “If it’s them, they might still help.”
But of course it wasn’t. The saucer drew even with them just as Dad, Yessica, and the dogs returned. Though all Unipuskers tended to look somewhat alike, there was something about the two figures in the saucer’s bridge window that could only be—
“Hawb and Cawmb,” said Dad, a little out of breath. “We’re fubbed.”
“The rings,” said Frek. “Can the rings help us?”
“The rings can only call each other,” said Dad. “But you, Frek, maybe you can call the Orpolese. You’re the one who’s special.”
The saucer heeled over and a door swung open in its bottom. Meanwhile, Mother Atmen’s torn side sealed itself up like a slow zipper. She moved toward them, waving three branching lavender tentacles.
Frek reached down into himself and found a clear memory of Bumby and Ulla when last he’d seen them. A big friendly cuttlefish with W-shaped pupils in his eyes, accompanied by a dimpled purplish ball. They’d been crying out in anguish as the branecasters tormented them. And before that? They’d been in a form perhaps closer to their true selves, Ulla a crimson hoop covered by green veins of Bumby. Right at the end, when Frek had made them collapse toward Unipusk, Bumby had repeatedly called out a phrase in the Orpolese tongue.
The sounds were clear in Frek’s memory. He began saying the phrase over and over, at the same time mentally projecting the message toward the Orpolese—wherever they might be.
“Alilallah tekelili eheu uborka Orpoly.”
Nothing. The Unipuskers and the Radiolarians drew closer.
Frek thought now of the sensation of the upward yunch, and he found a way to put some of that feeling into the phrase.
“Alilallah tekelili eheu uborka Orpoly.”
The words seemed to spin and fly up into the beyond. Did Frek feel the beginnings of an answer?
A flash of pink light flew past. An appendage on the base of the Unipusker saucer was firing at the Radiolarian ship. Atmen twitched out of its way, then swung one of her tentacles and launched a glowing green ball toward the saucer. A hole appeared in its hull where the blaster-cannon had been. The saucer quickly patched itself, using its feelers to fasten a plate of kenner into place. But it seemed to have no replacement for the missing cannon. Atmen quickly launched another ball, and the saucer began backing off, but not fast enough to avoid getting a second hole in it, this one larger than before. Once again it was able to seal the hole over, though not as quickly as before. Atmen reached for the Earthlings.
“Alilallah tekelili eheu uborka Orpoly,” repeated Frek, yunching the words as hard as he could.
Again he felt an answer, more clearly than before. Something was approaching. Yes. The Orpolese were coming.
Before Atmen could seize them, someone appeared from the hatch in the base of the Unipusker saucer. It was Hawb, swathed in a floppy transparent spacesuit and carrying a glowing white cube.
“A bomb!” wailed Renata. “I’ll never get home!”
“No,” said Dad. “I saw the Unipuskers do this once before at the spaceport when they’d been fighting with the alien cockroaches. The white cube is like a peace flag. Hawb wants to make a deal with Atmen.”
“Over here,” shouted Yessica to Hawb, meanwhile putting her hand on Frek’s shoulder. “I’ve got the boy right here!”
Everyone ignored her. Hawb jetted his way over to Atmen, and the two of them began to gesture and talk. The Earthling’s spacesuits weren’t picking up whatever it was the Unipusker and the Radiolarian were saying to each other.
“They’re gonna divvy us up like a creel of fish,” said Gibby hopelessly. “Make a deal.”
“Alilallah tekelili eheu uborka Orpoly,” chanted Frek one more time.
The Orpolese arrived.
At first Frek thought it was just his eyes, or maybe some mist on the inside of his transparent spacesuit—but, no, there was definitely a gauzy cloud gathering all around them. The shape thic
kened, drew together, and then, with a slight shuddering of space, the Orpolese were there, a pair of them, another “husband and wife,” the wife a thick gold donut overgrown with the silver vines that were her husband. Their meshed flesh was spinning around on itself like the smoke in a smoke-ring.
This pair of Orpolese seemed yet more powerful than Ulla and Bumby, and the other aliens knew it. The Radiolarian ship drew in its tentacles and started jetting away. The Unipusker saucer sealed up its hatch and did the same. Floating alone by himself, Hawb was frantically waving the white cube.
A snake of silver lifted up from the twisted Orpolese donut and shot three quick blasts. Hawb, the Unipusk saucer, and the Radiolarian sea cucumber scattered like leaves before the wind, wrapping themselves in mirrorlike force fields lest they be vaporized.
With their rivals dispersed, the Orpolese were quick to tractor-beam the Earthlings into the safe center of the gold and silver vortex ring. Seven copper arrows of tweet spiraled in toward the party—slender elongated pyramids that moved with the alertness of birds. Yessica struggled and cried out. The arrows breezed through their heads.
If Frek hadn’t experienced this before, he might not have noticed the touch of the tweet, but this time he could sense when the linguistic kenner glutted itself with his info. Mission accomplished, the tweets darted back out to merge with the shining donut.
“Hey, Bub, howdy, how do you do, I can tell by your vibe you’re Earthling goo,” erupted a voice in Frek’s suit. “Call me Whaler. I’m the silver veins amidst the gold of my partner, Tusky. I’m a spawn of poor old Ulla/Bumby.” Like Bumby, Whaler projected a very human sound. “You made my mommy and daddy go bye-bye.” Whaler put on a childish lisp. “Tuthky thaw it in the tweet.”
“Why didn’t you come save us before we fell into the Planck brane?” countered Frek. “Bumby was calling for you.”
“That happened too fast,” said Whaler in a more normal tone. “We weren’t expecting it. So we didn’t get an accurate location fix. Also, we were busy eating loofy. But ever since then, I’ve been half listening for another tekelili call. I didn’t expect it to come from a human.”
“I’m sorry about your parents,” said Frek, hoping the powerful Orpolese weren’t angry. “The branecasters said they’d release Ulla and Bumby for ten trillion tons of gold—that’s supposed to be, like, a gold asteroid ten kilometers across? I already agreed to an Orpolese production contract with the branecasters. I’m your talent. You’re supposed to protect me. Can you take my friends and me away from here before those other aliens come back? I’ll be glad to deliver the gold to bail out your parents. I still have to ask those branecasters for the elixir to heal Earth’s biome, you know.”
“Let’s trudge your road of happy destiny, yes,” said Whaler. “And, mainly, get our family’s deal in play. But first you need some better spacesuits. Orpolese quality, guaranteed solid right up to the pluperfect Planck temperature where spacetime melts like a Dali watch. Not those cheap-jack Unipusker rags you’re sporting. We’ll chew the further fat at chime five. Yunch, Tusky.”
And so the yunch got underway. As before, their progress was signaled by a series of clear, musical tones.
Chime one. The braided wreath of Tusky/Whaler flattened into a band with silver veins embossed upon gold. The top edge grew up and the bottom edge grew down, forming a glowing spherical shell. When the last tiny holes at the poles had sealed over, there came a thud of air filling the chamber, followed by a sizzling sound. The Earthlings’ floppy Unipusker spacesuits dissolved away.
Chime two. A flock of curved crystal tweets swept out from the glowing walls and garbed the seven in Orpolese spacesuits, solid as armor. These suits definitely had the feel of being crafted for extreme conditions. Frek wondered in passing how high the Planck temperature was. Did the Orpolese live on some hellish planet like Mercury or Venus?
Holes reopened in the ship’s north and south poles. The air hissed away. Tusky returned to her twisted gold donut configuration, with Whaler a flexing tracery of silver within her flesh.
Chime three. Frek felt a hollowness in his guts as he and the others began to grow. Soon their bodies were vast overlapping clouds, ringed in by the Orpolese rescuers. The gas giant Jumm and its moon Unipusk were as tiny marbles at their feet.
Chime four. They powered into the superexponential phase of the yunch. The stars streamed past like specks of luminous plankton. A hungry keening sounded from every particle of Frek’s frame.
Chime five. They coasted to a stop, their heads tenuously protruding from the Milky Way’s great disk. As before, Frek thought of a pond. The Tusky/Whaler donut encircled them like an old-fashioned inner-tube.
“Who’s going to Orpoly?” asked Whaler. “And who for Earth? First thought, best thought. Hurry before any clam-heads or five-leggers show up. Safe to bet they’ll send reinforcements after us soon.”
“I’m coming,” said Frek. “And Yessica’s not. The others can do what they like.”
“I’m with Frek,” said Dad.
“Me too,” said Gibby. “We’re gonna get that elixir from them snooty branecasters, whatever it takes. Maybe Frek’ll craft us some old-style Nguyen War singularity guns before we go back in there.”
“I’ve seen enough,” said Renata. “I don’t want to die out here. I want to go to Earth.”
“No, Renata,” insisted Yessica. “We have to push on with the others. It has to be me who meets with the branecasters.”
“Oh, sure,” said Renata sarcastically. And nobody else said anything.
After a long, awkward pause, Yessica continued. “All right then, I’ll take you back to Sick Hindu if you insist. It’s my duty to see that my daughter gets home safely.”
“You’re not hearing me, Mom,” said Renata. “I am not going back to a stupid hollow rock full of gollywog know-it-alls. I’ve had enough of that kac. I’m going to Earth.”
“You can stay at my house,” put in Frek, wanting to offer her something. “In Middleville. The Toonsmithy is just down the river. You know my mother’s name, right? Lora Huggins. She’d be glad to see you. And you can tell her what I’m doing. She’ll be worrying about me. You’ll have fun with my sisters, Renata. You can teach Ida and Geneva to draw.” Saying the names made Frek wish he was going home, too. He’d already been through so much—must he really travel on to Orpoly and the Planck brane?
“It’ll be okay with your mother if I just show up?” asked Renata. Her sweet, husky voice was all around Frek. It was pleasant to have their bodies overlap. “She won’t make a fuss?” continued Renata. “I can’t imagine a calm mother.”
“She’ll be glad,” said Frek warmly. “She’ll love you.”
“And once you settle in, go visit my burrow in the Grulloo Woods,” put in Gibby. “Or send a talking dog. Salla needs to know I’m off helping Frek save the world and not moolked-out in a Stun City gutter.”
“Tell Lora hi from me, too, Renata,” said Dad. “Tell her I’m sorry.”
“Traitors,” snapped Yessica. “All of you. If you go to Earth, Renata, I’m going there, too. We’re a team, we two. We’ll get a place of our own.”
“Whatever.”
“So that’s decided,” interrupted Whaler impatiently. “How about the pooches?”
“Woo like Renata,” said Woo. “Woo miss Earth.”
“Wow stay with Frek,” said Wow.
“So let’s split,” said Whaler. “Here’s how.”
Chime six. The braided donut grew and jiggled, its fields herding the overlaid figures of the Earthlings. The donut elongated, changing its hole from a circle to an oval, stretching one side toward the galactic center, and the other side farther toward the rim. Unseen Orpolese energies separated the passengers into two groups: Frek, Dad, Gibby, and Wow closer to the galactic core; Renata, Yessica, and Woo closer to Earth.
The moment came when Frek felt his body losing its last bit of overlap with Renata. “Good-bye, Renata,” he called. “I’m so glad we me
t. I’ll see you again soon.”
“Good-bye, Frek,” she sang. “I’ll wait with Lora.”
“No you won’t,” put in Yessica.
“Shut up for once. Can you still hear me, Frek? You might as well know that you’re the nicest boy I’ve ever met.”
“Me you too,” said Frek awkwardly. And then they were out of contact. For a moment Frek felt lost, sad, and perhaps a bit doomed.
Chime seven. The elastic tubing of the stretched donut hole bulged inward, pinching in between the two groups of passengers. The sides touched, and now the donut was a figure eight. Whaler’s voice sounded an ecstatic cry within Frek’s suit. A pattern of bumps shivered across the surface of the double donut, like ripples in water, like heavy rain pounding the sea. And then the great loops broke apart. Whaler moaned and sighed, and silent Tusky sent out a single, chrome, musical-note-shaped tweet. The Orpolese had reproduced.
“We’re still Whaler and Tusky,” said Whaler in a dreamy tone. “Our new clones yonder will find their own dear names in a second or few. Name-picking is the first zigzag of self. Aha, it’s happened. They’re Tagine and Vlan, the she and he. Isn’t this great, Tusky? Tagine and Vlan, I never would have thought of those. And, see, now they’re picking their colors. Orange and—hmm—black. Only a few seconds into their own various and particular lives, and they’re branching into unknowable otherhood. Torn off from Mom and Dad, yes, careening down time’s thundering dream. Farewell, beamish girl and boy, bon voyage, dear Tagine and Vlan! May we graze eddies together soon!” He lowered his voice a bit. “And I do think the colors work quite well, don’t you, Mother Tusky? I like how crisp Vlan’s black lines look against Tagine’s orange gleam.”
Whaler and Tusky continued moving toward the glowing hump at the galactic core, while the fresh-spawned Tagine and Vlan drifted the opposite way. Frek strained to pick out Renata’s features amidst the gauzy mass at the Tagine’s center. But by now the other Orpolese were too far.
The hill at the Milky Way’s center looked close enough to climb—a private snow-sparkling sledding-hill. Frek saw no sign of Unipuskers or Radiolarians.