Milky Way Marmalade

by Mike DiCerto

  Oafelia remained silent aboard the craft, privately impressed by the courage of the younger and prettier Revenant. She would wait for the perfect moment to act.

  * * * *

  Violet floated in the spherical cage that had sprung from the loins of Peebo. The elaborate little electronic doodle of Greppledick Quark used its rear jets to travel along the ceiling of the hall leading to the Traitor Disposal Room. The chamber was designed to launch into the death-grip of space any onboard traitor, closet musician, blasphemer, harmonic sympathizer or anyone caught whistling, humming or tapping any appendage in a way that might be considered even remotely rhythmic. Violet had been deemed worthy of walking the cosmic plank simply because she'd become an annoyance. It was the simplicity of O.D.O.R's refined and honed bureaucracy that allowed such quick and efficient exercises in justice.

  Violet pried and pulled on the bars of Peebo's cage as it entered the chamber. The voice command speaker buzzed.

  "Peebo! Peebo! It's your master. Return to the Deck of Ruby Gilding. Immediately!"

  So, as good robots do, the little flying android carried out his programmed tasks in sequence. Peebo released the cage from its body and exited the chamber to return to its master. Violet let out a yelp as an arm sprang from the wall and grabbed the bars of her confinement. The walls slid open as an energy field protected her from cosmic exposure.

  "You have been generously granted a chance for reprieve. Kneel and vow a life of non-lyrical existence, and you may be released,” the voice offered.

  Violet laughed.

  "Was that a laugh of gratitude or was that a laugh of rebellion?” the computer asked, unable to distinguish.

  "How's this for a clarification?” Violet cleared her throat and began to sing, loud and proud, “Happy Birthday to me! Happy birthday to me! Happy birthday, dear Violet! Happy birthday to me!"

  "I am pleased to announce that you have violated every law of O.D.O.R. I am further pleased to inform you that you may write your epitaph with the florid script of irony, as you will die on the date of your birth,” proclaimed the computer.

  The energy fields vanished, and Violet and the ball-shaped cage were sucked out into space.

  * * * *

  Peebo entered Greppledick's private living chambers on the Deck of Ruby Gilding and came to an obedient halt before his resurrected maker.

  "Where is the woman?” the old man asked, looking past the small robot. Peebo seemed to shrug.

  Caffrey approached with reproach. “Don't shrug, you metallic retard. Answer the question!"

  "He can't. I didn't have time to give him speech capabilities. He communicates via dips and shimmies."

  Caffrey was developing an irate attack. “So, where is she?"

  "Peebo?"

  The little round robot dipped and shook and rose up then down. Greppledick tweaked his Adam's apple and stared at the ceiling.

  "What?” Caffrey's stomach was flipping.

  "He followed the order. He dropped her off at the Traitor Disposal Chamber."

  "And?"

  "She was disposed of."

  Before Caffrey could register an appropriate facial expression, a siren shrieked wildly, followed by a shuddering crash. The escape pod from The Moby Dick exploded into the room.

  "Get in, my Jack-O-Love!” Angie's voice boomed from the pod's PA system.

  Caffrey scrambled in, dragging Greppledick behind him. The port slid shut, and Angie maneuvered the pod away.

  * * * *

  "Angie, you little devil!” Caffrey grinned, with a kiss to the air.

  Angie gave him a rapid update. “Spydersloth turned the conference room into a massacre! I think the Five Heads are all dead!"

  "Is Yin still an epaulet?” Caffrey asked, ignoring the confused reaction of Greppledick.

  "No, but I don't know what happened to him."

  Caffrey grabbed the controls. “I have a plan. It'll sound a little peculiar, but it should work. We're going to soup up this baby with a small Moebius Strip."

  Angie demurred. “But that will invert space. You'll be turned inside out!"

  "It will also invert time. And we need time inverted. We need to open a temporal tunnel to take us back just prior to the destruction of The Moby Dick."

  "But it will invert space,” Angie repeated with utter disgust.

  "A small and very temporary price to pay for being heroes, Angie, my girl!"

  * * * *

  Yin's jaw was locked tight on an ankle. He wasn't quite sure whose ankle, but he bit down just the same as the orgy of the battle continued. It was hard to tell who'd been killed in the ensuing barrage of blasts, but there were still quite a few fists, legs, teeth and tails fighting it out amidst the lifeless bodies.

  Yin released the gnawed foot joint from his jaw as he glimpsed daylight from the corner of his eye. The light was coming through a door. Although it was locked, a panel had been blasted away in the skirmish.

  "Run for it, Yin!” cried the little Rykonese Puffy, trapped under the weighted mountain of Quigmo Digmo's left buttock. “Your mission is of greater importance than this silly mêlée!"

  "Thank you, Gordak! You are a true hero. It has been an honor being your left-hand epaulet!” Yin said with a bow.

  The two had become fast friends during their awkward stay atop Ba Ba Banaki's shoulders, and they'd shared numerous whispered conversations, exchanging war stories in addition to their respective desires and ambitions.

  "I only wish my demise was less demoralizing than being crushed by one of the largest tushies in the galaxy,” the little canine bemoaned.

  "That will not happen, friend!” Yin dived, mouth agape, and let his fangs pierce the innumerable fleshy folds of Quigmo's butt.

  The Belkibon, dazed but far from dead, reacted with a hula-dancer shimmy, relieving the pressure on the body of Gordak and enabling him to turn his upper body freely.

  "That was an action taken only by a true friend. To put your mouth intentionally on this foul creature's buttocks is bravery above and beyond the call of duty!"

  "Another bite or two should free you. Good luck, Gordak, son of Markayas!"

  "And may luck comfort you like a bowl of kibbles near a warm stove, Yin, son of Yorn!"

  Yin crouched down as a half-dozen energy bolts flashed across the conference room. He managed to manipulate his way through a gauntlet of boots, clashing blades and falling bodies, bounding through the air and out the empty frame of the locked door.

  * * * *

  The escape pod continued its run through the metal halls, Caffrey following Angie's directions as she recalled the layout from her memory.

  "Uh-oh!” she cried. “They weren't here a moment ago!"

  The end of the corridor was blocked by a row of Spydersloth's robot guards, heavily armed with tremendous Gluxhower 11 plasma pulse rifles. They began firing. Caffrey dodged and darted around the brilliant bars of illuminated plum-colored pulses, making their way at ridiculous speeds. Peebo, who'd been tailing the pod obediently, raced around and took the lead, morphing into an umbrella of silvery-gray metal. The substance seemed to materialize from thin air and formed a spiky shield the width of the passage.

  "It still amazes me,” Greppledick said of his own impromptu creation. “Hydro-carbonic sculpting. And he's used it to protect his maker!"

  "You are an amazing creator of androids, Greppledick,” Angie complimented.

  "I am that. There are none greater!” He bowed, unable to hide his pleasure.

  The shield plowed through the guards, scattering them like armored bowling pins.

  "Make the next three rights,” Angie instructed.

  * * * *

  Yin heard the noise. It was a buzz, ever increasing in volume, approaching from the bow of the Crystal Guise. The drone was beginning to drown out the multiple alarms screaming around the ship. Yin ducked behind a ventilation unit and twisted his ears like radar dishes. Whatever was approaching, it would arrive in seconds.

  Footsteps w
ere added to the mix—multiple pairs of heavy boots—and with them advanced a sense of panic, of horror, of life and death. Yin held his breath and tried to slow his pounding heart. The invading clamor was joined by sudden screams. High-pitched cries like those of children running from a bumblebee. Yin peered out and around, gazing down the seemingly infinite-length corridor. He had to smile.

  Three heavily armored guards rushed forward, screaming and waving their arms in fright. Behind them was the source of the intolerable buzzing, the escape pod from The Moby Dick, peeking out intermittently from behind Peebo's odd shield. Yin jumped out and stood on his hind legs in the center of the hall, pumping his front paws in a victorious and mocking manner, laughing with delight as the guards rushed by.

  "Caffrey!” Yin yelled, waving his paws. But the pod didn't slow down. It barreled closer.

  "Quarky! Angie!” the Bopple screamed, not sure if his attempt at hitchhiking would finally bring the craft to a stop or flatten him like road kill. The latter came close to reality. The escape pod, its occupants apparently unaware of Yin's presence, zoomed down the hall. Yin flattened, his head buried protectively beneath his front paws.

  "I thought I caught a glimpse of tiny, waving arms. Possibly paws?” Caffrey said with a growing concern.

  "Yin?” Angie queried.

  "I'm going back,” declared Caffrey, making a wickedly sharp one-eighty.

  "Peebo!” Greppledick spoke into the intercom microphone, “Backtrack and scan for any small, furry critters. Report back at once."

  Peebo backtracked. A gaping mouth formed on the smart ball's surface, opening like a starving bazinga fish.

  Using what was left of his strength, Yin scrambled off, his toe nails making tippity-tip sounds on the cold metal floor. His ears flapped behind, and a string of poochie drool was sent on the wind of his frantic escape. Peebo's jaws closed in, the android's mysterious propulsion system not prone to the exhaustion currently being experienced by Yin's biological frame. Each step Yin took suggested more determinedly that the world was tilting uphill. Gravity seemed to multiply, and his weight grew exponentially. The Bopple collapsed, the last fragments of energy in his little body expended like a compulsive gambler's luck.

  "May the cause of O.T.H.E.R fare greater than the evil of O.D.O.R. Viva la música,” Yin gasped, struggling out his own testament.

  Peebo swooped down like a featherless bird of prey and, in one neat bite, gobbled Yin like a grape then darted back toward the pod. The mute android bobbed up and down like a buoy on rough seas, communicating its urgent message.

  "He wants in!” Greppledick translated.

  Caffrey opened the entry panel, and Peebo quickly entered. His mouth opened and Yin fell out, hitting the floor with a thud. Caffrey's face spoke volumes, a veritable encyclopedia of emotions, yet he could only speak one word:

  "Yin!"

  He scooped his little dog into his arms and cradled him like a doll, kissing his forehead tenderly.

  "You still with us, old boy?” he whispered.

  The Bopple moaned and whimpered.

  "Poor darling,” Angie soothed.

  "He's exhausted,” Caffrey diagnosed, placing him gently on a cushioned seat.

  "He'll be fine, I'm sure,” Greppledick concluded, petting Yin's forehead.

  "Thank you, Peebo.” Caffrey gave the android an appreciative nod.

  The android did a small dance. He had shrunk in size, the mouth extension having collapsed back into his spherical shape. He exited the pod and continued his defensive duties.

  "One more to go. We'll snatch Poe then put my Moebius plan to work."

  "But you'll be inverted,” Angie moaned.

  "We're here to save my friends and the galaxy, not worry about appearances,” Caffrey rejoined, with a newfound purpose.

  "I am very proud of you. My reluctant hero has found a cause!"

  "I'd rather be dead than live music-free!"

  "I'd rather be dead. Period,” grumbled the old man.

  "Hang on tight, Uncle. You'll get your wish if my plan fails."

  Greppledick clasped his hands around the back of his head and closed his eyes for a catnap.

  "Let's hope you're right,” he yawned.

  "Caffrey? This may seem a silly question, but did you set the self-destruct mechanism to engage in ten minutes?” inquired Angie with a nervous laugh.

  "Don't be silly, girl!"

  "Well, I hate to be a party pooper, but it's set. This pod is going to explode into confetti in nine minutes and forty-five seconds."

  "Well? Disengage it!"

  "I tried. I can't. It looks like another intelligence has put a lock on it."

  Caffrey's eyes widened. Both he and Angie came to the same verbal conclusion at the same instant.

  "That bitch!"

  A nasty, spiteful chuckle sounded as the pod raced down the labyrinth of halls.

  * * * *

  The Green Metallic Lair of the Subservient Eggs was rarely used. The rectangular chapel, adorned with plush verdant carpeting, shimmering olive titanium walls and emerald torches dispersing their flickering light-pools, had been built for special guests. In the social structure of O.D.O.R, being worshiped in your own private chapel was to its upper crust what having a private jet was to the same class on twentieth-century Earth.

  Poe 33 stared dead ahead with a blank expression hinting at repressed ecstasy. But the orange-and-blue android was experiencing a battle deep within the circuits and programming of his conscience. This powerful feeling, this inflation of his ego, had drowned the original purpose of his existence—to serve his Master. Although he was sitting solidly, he was floating above the throne, riding the waves of self-important joy. His loyalty to the L'Orange was calling, a faint voice like a drowning fisherman beyond the horizon; but the din of his pronounced greatness was in turn muffling those calls.

  "I sense some familiarity with you, my child,” Poe said to the supplicant who had stepped before him. “Your countenance and the life energy sparkling within your eyes rings a knell of recognition."

  "It's me, you dimwitted metallic conglomeration of pomposity,” Greppledick scowled. “Dethrone your shiny ass and follow me."

  Poe 33 laughed, deep and haughtily. “I am in a position to have you beheaded. Please, pay your respects and leave. There are hundreds awaiting my presence."

  Without further ado, Greppledick popped Poe 33's left eye out with his index finger and turned the android off with a flick of a secret switch deep in his head. The spark of Poe 33 went dark as if suddenly frozen. Greppledick, with something of a struggle, picked his android child up fireman's style and exited through the astonished crowd. Mumbling disparagingly about the world of the living, he pushed his way through the onslaught, ducking around a corner and into an escape stairwell.

  * * * *

  It had become quite apparent as Caffrey and Co. raced around the Crystal Guise that every exit port had been sealed tight to prevent the escape of the music-loving rebels in their run-amok pod. Angie, unable to stop the self-destruct countdown, had managed to convince the on-board computers that Caffrey, feeling shameful for his recent antics, had decided to commit himself to the Room of Traitor Disposal as a form of penance to Spydersloth.

  The onboard computer system's naïve and bureaucratic programming was simply not prepared for such situations and had just updated Caffrey's status as the newly ordained Vicar of Negated Music Registry. This position had certain perks. The most cherished of these perks, especially by true zealots of the O.D.O.R cause, was the right of self-incrimination. By virtue of Caffrey's appointment into the upper echelons of Spydersloth's organization, he could deem himself a traitor to the cause and sentence himself to death. It was a rather simple way of doing away with the inconvenience of a trial, and in Caffrey's case, it provided the only remaining safe passage to outer space, where his plan could be put into effect.

  Only six minutes of countdown to self-destruct remained.

  "Here's my little
sleeping Messiah,” Greppledick joked as he reentered the pod. “Any luck with your master plan?"

  Caffrey was in an understandable bustle. “Almost, Unc. Angie! To the Traitor Disposal Room. Pronto!"

  "Si, si, el capitán!"

  The clock ticked away as Angie guided the pod to the Room of Traitor Disposal while Caffrey put the finishing touches on his electronic makeover. It had taken a bit of imagination, but he'd managed to run the small Moebius Strip Generator through the escape pod's propulsion system. The trick was jury-rigging an adapter to properly connect the power supply of the craft with the battery compartment of the toy. With a little finagling, he managed the problem by looting a part from his S-77.

  Within seconds of the pod's entry into the disposal station, the computer's voice intoned an alternative to death for Caffrey. “You have been generously granted a chance for reprieve. Kneel and vow a life of non-lyrical existence and you may be released."

  "I come here on my own accord. I have found myself unworthy to serve the Great Spydersloth Blaust and wish to end my existence,” Caffrey declared.

  "Do you speak for the Human, the Bopple and the two Revenants as well?” questioned the Voice.

  "Yes,” insisted Greppledick.

  "I do,” confirmed Angie.

  "The Bopple is asleep,” explained Caffrey, “but he has personally assured me that his wish is to die a cowardly traitor."

  "I am pleased to announce that your request for self-incrimination has been granted. You are free to die."

  "Thank you. Thank you very much!” replied Caffrey, Greppledick and Angie in harmonic unison—which was one last unconscious act of defiance.

  "I will now deactivate all onboard life support systems and eject your craft."

  Caffrey hadn't thought of that.