by Mike DiCerto
"Ahhh ... folks. What, pray tell, is that?"
A spiraling tube of blue energy wound its way from a singularity in space toward The Moby Dick at an alarming rate of speed.
"I'm afraid we won't be able to outrun it!” Angie warned, her voice colored with urgency.
"Some sort of wormhole, I suppose,” suggested Caffrey.
Poe 33 enlarged on the issue. “A wormhole of the usual sort requires energy exceeding Planck levels. The Moby Dick is picking up only a mild static. No more than would be produced by rubbing a foot on a shag carpet."
Caffrey gave the android a curious glance as he tried to guess where in the endless light-years of adventuring the android would have come across shag carpeting.
Yin wanted more information. “What is this, if not some sort of black hole?"
"It is a mylaxic eel,” Poe 33 explained.
"Never heard of them,” Yin admitted.
"Me, neither,” confessed Caffrey. “Angie-girl, you find anything in your zoological files on mylaxic eels?"
"Just a moment, my sweet leather volume. Yes. Found. ‘Mylaxic eel: An extremely rare member of the species Electrophorus electricus gigantus, found only in comet-rich regions of the Plethorian Sector. Its unique digestive system links two distinct points in time and space, illustrating in astronomical grandeur the philosophy of never defecating where one resides.’”
"I could have told you that,” Poe 33 mumbled, a little put out at being sidelined.
"So, I assume we'll be shat out to some unknown region of time and space?” postulated Caffrey.
Yin snickered his reply. “Sounds as such. Not a bad trait. Imagine, Quarky, taking me out for a poop on Fourth Street and having some poor guy in Renaissance Italy having to clean it up?” He snickered a little more.
"Any clue where this bloody worm's arse-hole is?” Caffrey asked.
Poe 33 rejoined the discussion. “No. But mylaxic eel metabolism is very efficient. We will be expelled in moments."
The energy rings of the eel grew yellow, then orange and then deep red as The Moby Dick moved through the colorful digestive tract. The rumbling increased, and the windows fogged. Finally, with a cosmic fart, the ship was ejected from the crimson-ringed tube and back into space.
"Out of the arse and into the loo,” Caffrey remarked as something caught his attention.
"We're back in the time period of your birth, my temporally twisted teekie-bird."
"And it would appear we are not alone,” added Poe 33, more pragmatically.
Alone was, indeed, far from being their situation. A fleet of a dozen or so small, insect-like craft surrounded The Moby Dick, the pack darting and circling like gnats.
"Fly Craft,” Yin announced with great disgust. “The fighter of choice for O.D.O.R. Piloted by genetically produced bio-machine hybrids. Grown within the craft themselves, like cocoons, for the sole foul purpose of serving Nefarious."
Floating in the background like a green billiard ball was a medium-sized world shrouded in a quiltwork of white and azure clouds.
"Find out what planet that is, Angie,” ordered Caffrey.
A voice sparked onto the ship's communications system.
"Please disengage any weapons systems, shields and/or other protective devices. You are surrounded and will be the guests of His Him. Please remind yourselves this is a great honor. Follow the convoy of security craft to the surface of Planet Opulent Lawns. You will be met by His Him's personal staff, who will escort you and your crew to his private residence."
"Guess that answers that question,” murmured Caffrey. He took the controls and carefully followed the buzzing spacecraft to the surface of Planet Opulent Lawns.
CHAPTER SEVEN
WAR PIGS
Politicians hide themselves away.
They only started the War.
Why should they go out to fight.
They leave that role to the poor.
Black Sabbath
Caffrey learned, with a little help from Angie and the G.S., that Planet Opulent Lawns was the private resort of galactic sector syndicate head and weapons magnate Quagmo Dagmo, the older brother of Quigmo Digmo. Opulent Lawns, originally called Planet Boomboom, began as a planned residential world for retired military types. It was purchased by Quagmo, who sent every retiree packing with a toothbrush, change of clothing and a swift kick in the behind. The planet was bulldozed, covered in fresh soil and seeded. It would become the largest private golf course in the Milky Way.
Quagmo, who ordained himself the ambiguous His Him, was lauded by planetary leaders, revolutionaries, corporate raiders, psychotic despots and crusading religious fanatics for his exhaustive catalogue of devices for the complete and perfect separation of living beings from their bodies. These were not devices for self-protection, the lovers of skeet shooting or exotic meat collecting. These were weapons of mass destruction with an emphasis on efficiency and entertainment. Should you need to prove a point to an unruly population and have a chuckle to boot, there were a slew of wondrous and amusing ways to flex your muscle and still show the people you really were not the stick-in-the-mud they accused you of being1.
A large structure marred the seamless expanse of green: His Him's mansion. Made from highly polished bricks of pure melvilite, it sparkled like a small star under the bright warm glow of the sun, Umba. Surrounding the home were numerous supplementary buildings, landing strips, hangars and storage warehouses.
The Moby Dick followed a pair of security craft as the rest of the convoy split up and went about their business. As they landed, a chartreuse limousine rolled alongside Caffrey's craft. A tall, lanky individual emerged. Humanoid, with bright yellow skin, the man was dressed in a powder-blue leisure suit and leather hip boots inlaid with a strange swirling pattern. At his sides hovered two short, squat soldiers adorned in sapphire shortie-pant jumpsuits and matching two-horsepower propeller beanies, giving them the appearance of fat man-children. They were armed with large, brightly colored plastic weapons that had translucent bulbs positioned along their lengths.
"Yin, be a simple dog until the plan changes. Angie, I need you to be our stealthy escort. The proverbial fly on the wall. Poe, it's you and me, baby."
The tall man called out to The Moby Dick. “You may exit your craft.” His voice emerged from his body as if from an implanted megaphone. “Please exit with smiles and loose shoulders and be prepared to reply to our greetings with wit and charm."
"Hear that, Poe? Wit and charm,” Caffrey said coyly, pushing the button to open the entry. The Moby Dick's port slid open, and he stepped out, taken aback a bit by the cold blast of air that stung his face. He looked to the tall man and his boyish entourage and nodded.
"Welcome to Opulent Lawns,” the tall man boomed with a smile. “I am Shleshinger 9. I will escort you via foot to His Him's private dining chamber."
"May I ask why we've been detoured against our will? I was simply transporting this meteorological robot to Blooth along with his canine assistant,” Caffrey asked with a forced smile.
"No! No! No! That's not proper protocol at all!” the man complained as his yellow skin turned orange from the blood rushing beneath it. “Wit! We must have wit! No objections. No questions. Simple wit to thank us for the privilege we are granting you so graciously."
"Wit,” echoed the soldier to his left.
"Wit,” agreed the one to his right.
Caffrey looked at Poe 33 and raised an eyebrow. The Portsmith stepped forward.
"Quite a lawn, Mr. Shleshinger 9. I would hate to be the one who has to mow it."
Shleshinger 9 burst into a short guffaw that was swallowed almost as suddenly as it emerged from his mouth.
"Quite droll. But a sincere attempt, and it is appreciated."
Caffrey patted Poe 33 on the shoulder and smiled approvingly.
"Please, now. If you would? Follow me,” Shleshinger 9 continued, turning on a dime.
They passed through a small side doorway into the first large
hangar, and Caffrey found himself facing a corridor of seemingly infinite length. The polished stone walls, illuminated by pretty brass gas lamps, ran to a vanishing point.
"His Him's chamber is exactly two miles down this corridor. He prefers his guests to arrive hearts a-pounding and with a soft shimmer of perspiration alighting their rosy faces. So, if you would, keep up with my giddy gait."
The trio followed as instructed, and the collective sound of their feet echoed about them like teasing ghosts. The whine of Poe 33's servos created a rhythmic mantra Caffrey and Yin each used to set their own pace.
* * * *
After twenty-five minutes a large stained glass door appeared at the end of the corridor. As they grew closer to the beautiful port, Caffrey recognized the Belkibonian-style artwork.
"Standard Belkibonian subtle design,” he whispered.
"Ap-ap-ap! No speaking! Sixty more steps, and we will all come to a halt."
The group took the final steps, and the two soldiers floated around in perfect unison to face them. Caffrey, Poe 33 and Yin halted their march.
"Okay! We are halted. You are about to enter His Him's exalted chambers. There will be no frowns, moans, groans, wrinkled noses and or eyebrows. There will be no speaking unless spoken to and then only quick and witty responses allowed. You will keep all limbs loose and limber and, in the case of the small canine, loose and with only a slightly wagging tail. You will not, in the course of answering questions posed to you, ever use or infer the following words: evil, death, crown, kill, monarch, candlestick, assassin, obese, nasty, flatulence, clogged, door mat, door nail, egg yolk, chain mail, divot, bogey, vanity—either the noun or the adjective form. Feces, urine, pigeon, yellow, anvil, clothespin, undies, panties, brassiere, jockstrap, nipples, mandlebrot, chaos, fish paste, tapioca, water spout and any word beginning with the letters x, q or zed."
"You get that, Poe?” Caffrey whispered.
"Why, of course! Would you like me to repeat the list?” Poe 33 asked, forgetting to whisper.
"Ap-ap-ap!"
Caffrey exhaled hard with impatience and was blasted by a stern look from Shleshinger 9.
"And there will be no exhaling of breath to illustrate boredom and or frustration! Time will be a commodity of which you are in vulgar excess. Time will be of no more pressing concern than the air you breathe."
Shleshinger 9 nodded, and the soldiers stepped forward, grabbed a respective knob each and slid the doors open. Shleshinger 9's voice rang out:
"Presenting the textbook example of toned, youthful exuberance; the enigmatic ruler of charm, wit and wondrous ways—His Him!"
Shleshinger 9 bowed and stepped out of the way. Caffrey and his friends entered.
The room was much smaller than Caffrey had imagined it would be. Not the grand ballroom he was visualizing as he marched down the corridor, the room was perhaps three times larger than his own living room back on East Fourth Street. It was charming, beautifully lit by the soft, warm light of Umba shining through the lemon-yellow glass windows. An elaborate but tasteful table of raspberry-colored hinkawood, a fine example of Belkibon craftsmanship, sat before them.
Standing at the far end of the table was a man no more than five-foot-two in height. He was dressed in a cranberry-colored cashmere cardigan, tan corduroy slacks and held a Meerschaum pipe in his hand. From the pipe wafted a seamless chain of smoke rings. His figure was slim and his snow-white hair was neatly trimmed.
His Him nodded with a smile and the soldiers closed the doors, leaving the trio—and Angie—alone with the man.
"Sit. Sit. Please. Make yourself comfy,” His Him suggested gracefully.
Caffrey was too confused to respond. He looked quickly at Poe, who was heading for a chair. When Yin sat on his haunches, Caffrey decided that he, too, should accept the offer. He sat his exhausted lower body on one of the cushy typical Belkibon chairs with obese female bodies forming the back and legs and caught his breath. His Him nodded approvingly.
"I can see by the sweat on your brow my assistant took you down the long route."
"Not a problem, sir,” Caffrey replied, with a smile and loose shoulders. “I needed to walk off the Amberdesian noodles I made an absolute pig of myself with at lunch."
Caffrey privately panicked for a moment as he rethought each word he had just spoken. However, the smile that formed on His Him's face relaxed his stiffening shoulders.
"You could have simply entered right here,” he explained, walking over to the door, opening it and revealing a sunny rear court, “I imagine he discussed all sorts of silly rules as well?"
Caffrey and Poe 33 nodded. Yin whimpered pathetically.
"He's mad. Simply mad. Don't pay any attention to him,” His Him advised, closing the door and walking back to the table.
"I suppose you are wondering why my Bogie fetched you and brought you from the Sol System thirteen hundred years ago to the Umba System today?"
"Bogie?” Caffrey asked.
The old man's eyebrows wrinkled ever so slightly.
"My eelie-poo. My pride and joy. Raised him from a tiny little fry. He's very sweet. I said ‘fetch,’ and here you are!"
"If I may, sir? Why were we honored by your invitation?” Caffrey was good at faking conformity, a survival skill he'd mastered on his many adventures around various star systems where silly rules abounded.
"Quite simply, you are very special, Eagle 5."
"Sorry? My name is actually Caffrey Qu—” Caffrey stopped himself as he felt the letter Q form in his mouth.
"I am well aware of your name. I don't like it. Therefore, you will be known as Eagle 5 from now on. Likewise, the android will be 6 Iron and the Bopple, Par 3."
Caffrey exchanged quick, nervous looks with Yin and Poe.
"'Relax and fear not my mind2,'” quoted His Him. “I have a wonderful meal prepared for you, Eagle 5. Yespinese triple caps with mamoop butter and a side of perfectly crisped olivyspa rings. All balanced to perfection with a bottle of Grapzilania ‘43 imported from the renowned vineyards of Jespoon."
A slot opened on the tabletop, and the steaming meal rose up upon a golden plate. Caffrey drooled as the essence of the exotic mushrooms wafted to his nostrils.
"My compliments, sir. These are magnificent examples of triple caps."
"And for the little furry one—a bowl of freshly-slaughtered sumpumpas with a delicate sauce of errymerry,” Quagmo explained as the bowl appeared before Yin, rising up from the floor.
Yin's ears rose and his tail wagged a bit too energetically as he began scarfing down the nugget-sized marsupial meat. Caffrey cleared his throat, and Yin controlled his enthusiastic tail.
"As for myself and the android, we will enjoy your enjoyment. I only eat once per week. I find the body of the average Belkibon to be beyond vulgar."
"If I may, sir,” Caffrey said, looking up from his plate, “I envy your trim and tone self. I would never have guessed you to be Belkibon."
"Don't overdo it, my sweet kiss-ass,” Angie whispered softly into his ear.
"Thank you, Eagle 5. Finish your meal, and we will discuss the truth behind my invitation."
Caffrey and Yin each savored their meal as His Him sat in his rocker and closed his eyes for an apparent nap. Poe 33 turned his head and stared at the sleeping Belkibon for a moment. Suddenly, green light beamed from the android's eyes to scan the old Belkibon's motionless body. Caffrey shot a glare of utter disbelief at him.
"Poe, are you nuts?"
"Sir. There is no electrical energy emanating from his brain. Nor is his heart beating. Nor are his lungs engaged in the act of taking breath."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"It would appear he is dead,” Poe 33 deduced.
"Oh, my goodness,” Angie gasped.
He can't be dead? Can he? Yin wondered.
Caffrey was about to get up and take a closer look when His Him opened his eyes and smiled at the group.
"So. Enjoying your meal?"
&n
bsp; Caffrey almost gagged but covered nicely.
"Yes. Yes. Wonderful meal. Very thoughtful of you."
"You're not very witty, are you?” the old man observed, his smile dissolving in the solvent of disappointment.
"This meal has rendered the wit centers of my brain bloodless, as all my bodily fluids have rushed to take part in the wondrous orgy in my contented belly,” Caffrey managed to spout.
The Belkibon erupted in terrific guffaws that seemed implausible for the size of the petite man.
"Yes, Eagle 5, you are quite a card. My ace in the void of the universe."
His Him stood and snapped his fingers. The plates, food, wine and bowls all vanished whence they came. He turned to the wall opposite the entryway and snapped his fingers twice. A panel opened to reveal a large aquarium. Only one creature swam about in the sparkling water. It was a pink, spongy-looking organism that had a head similar to that of a hairless bat and a body like a plucked and scrubbed hen.
"This is a corgishma. Not any corgishma. She is the only example of a One corgishma,” His Him effused, drooling.
"I'm sorry? A One?” Caffrey asked with some hesitation.
"Yes! Yes! A One corgishma! A specimen of a species that can trace its direct line to the first of its species."
"I believe he is referring to—” Poe 33 began.
His Him's voice changed, became authoritative, “I will explain it! The Ones, even countless generations later, contain the collective wisdom of their species blueprinted into their essence. This corgishma has within it the knowledge and experiences of every corgishma that has ever or will ever live. It is the direct descendent of the original reflection projected into reality from the L'Orange."
He stroked the glass, and the creature scurried to the rear corner of its home. His Him turned a curious eye to Caffrey.
"I have a veritable ark of these special creatures, insects, plants—even a large collection of gemstones. I even have a One blue-finned talking mymy whom I have trained to say ‘cork, beans and flambé.’”
"Certainly three of my favorite words,” Caffrey agreed.