Milky Way Marmalade

by Mike DiCerto

  Angie wasn't to be outdone. “I am not attempting to justify his disgusting behavior. I am only suggesting that if the Blodians were to carve a face of a beautiful woman, they may meet with success."

  "Who could possibly love him in the first place for that love to be lost in the second place?” Yin wanted to know.

  "You and Violet are too submerged in the philosophy of O.T.H.E.R to allow yourselves the possibility to see Nefarious as anything but evil. But what, after all, is evil but the absence of love?"

  "You are naïve, my sweet girl,” Violet said with cold sincerity.

  "I would have to agree,” said the Bopple with a touch more warmth.

  "I think she may be on to something,” mumbled Greppledick through a mouthful of pudge.

  "Then again,” Caffrey chimed in, “'Layla.’ ‘Rita.’ ‘Susie Q.’ ‘Prudence.’ ‘Michelle.’ And, of course, ‘Angie.’ Song after song has pined over love. Since none of the faces has pleased Nefarious, maybe a change in sex would work?"

  The Blodian was doubtful. “We have never carved the face of a beautiful female humanoid. What does one look like?” he asked with sincere innocence.

  Angie chuckled at Violet's expense.

  "Actually, Khorus,” Caffrey said, staring at Violet, “if I had to give an example of one face to represent human female beauty, Violet's wouldn't be a bad choice."

  Violet, instantly mollified, responded with a coy smile of appreciation—and Angie sensed it.

  "I hope you choke on your pudge, Caffrey Quark!” she cried as she raced off.

  "I think your hurt her feelings,” tittered Violet smugly.

  Caffrey stared down at his pudge bowl. “I really need to have her sensitivity programming adjusted."

  "Violet?” the Blodian asked. “May we use your face as a model?"

  "I refuse to have my face offered up to Nefarius Wretch."

  "Please. We are running out of options,” pleaded Khorus.

  "I really think you should,” Yin coaxed. “To repay the Blodians for their hospitality. After all, you once passed yourself off as a Spydersloth Blaust fan for the cause."

  Violet sat for a moment or two then sighed, pushed the remains of her meal away and shrugged in surrender to the idea.

  She was taken to the facial pre-model design studios while Caffrey searched high and low for Angie to begin the process of locating the crack in the cosmic box. Poe 33, Yin and Greppledick joined the search.

  * * * *

  Little Peebo had soon discovered the large Blodians and their massive undertakings. Quickly becoming fascinated by the sculptures, the clever little android carefully studied the process then formed a bulbous mouth on his surface and joined the construction project.

  Like a gnat, the floating robot zipped around the mound, carving the facial structures with blinding speed. He worked so fast the stunned Blodian workers could only clear the hill and stare with gaping mouths as thousands of years of Blodian evolution and culture was rendered obsolete and inept. Peebo completed the ugly male humanoid face to perfection. As the typically slow emotional responses of the Blodians surfaced—they are by nature rarely bitter or jealous—a combination of cheers and groans erupted. Peebo, rather embarrassed at his impulsive and rather rude behavior, attempted a shy bow of gratitude for the adulation.

  * * * *

  "Angie?” Yin called out, sniffing the air aboard The Moby Dick for any signs of the ozone often accompanying her presence. There was no reply.

  Yin jumped up on the communications counter and stroked a few keys with his paws. Poe 33 entered, followed by Greppledick.

  "Poe, do you sense Angie on board?” Yin asked, without taking his eyes from the screen.

  "I do not. I hope she is not gone forever—but if she is, I pray it is a lesson for all the non-artificial forms aboard this craft, who would do well to memorize the adage ‘Hard of parts does not mean hard of heart.’”

  Yin was reading the text on one of the monitors.

  "This is interesting. She sent a message to Lindboola an hour and a half ago. Then logged in a systems check ten minutes later."

  "Lindboola?” asked the old man.

  "Only the best effects makeup artist ever. We met her on a Dante Squidreaper film shoot. She helped us become Serpentine for our little adventure on Regal 9."

  "Squidreaper.” Greppledick gagged on his own disgust. “Had him in my home for a New Year's party. He drank all the cheenago, urinated on my hirojenia bush and got footprints all over my ten-thousand-year-old Vixenese billiard table."

  "Without Angie, how are we going to find the crack in the box?"

  "Where is our fearless leader?” asked Yin, peering around the deck.

  "He's with Violet and the Blodian artisan."

  There was a tap at the portal and Yin pushed the “Open” button. Peebo floated outside. A dozen or so Blodians surrounded the craft. Some were laughing. Others weren't. Greppledick stepped to the entryway and gazed out at the herd. He noticed some were carrying sticks, pipes and heavy tools.

  "What sort of trouble did you get into, my little puppy?” He asked, with some concern.

  Peebo dipped and dived, bounced and shimmied with the nervousness of a child caught picking golden apples from a neighboring dragon's orchard. A babble of groans and protests erupted from the insulted Blodians, followed by a chorus of laughter and complaints aimed at the angered workers by the smaller group, who thought the entire event rather funny.

  Greppledick stepped out and peered across the field.

  "Peebo! What have you done?” His eyes widened. “I'll be a monkey's dead uncle..."

  Yin took a look, his head swiveling slowly as he took in the vista. “Incredible,” he murmured, breathlessly.

  The whining of servos announced the Portsmith's turn to be impressed.

  "He'll probably get away with it. Brat,” mumbled Poe 33 as he turned and retreated back into the ship.

  * * * *

  Violet sat on a stone pedestal as a Blodian artisan worked the dirt in its large mouth. Using its lips in the same way a dessert chef uses a pastry bag, the Blodian crafted a small, life-size model of Violet's face atop a flat stone surface. Caffrey sat beside her, studying her real face with great interest.

  "Stop staring at me,” muttered Violet, trying not to move her mouth.

  "That's easier said than done. I'm enjoying the view. We've been so busy I've had little time to devote to my unabashed attraction to you."

  "You once despised me,” reminded Violet.

  "Only because you were such a good actor and I believed your soul was ordered on the rocks. And I will never, with a capital N, forgive you for misplacing my friends. But those purple eyes and your perfectly formed..."

  "Caffrey..."

  "...cheekbones have rendered me a drooling idiot."

  Violet's face flushed slightly. She simpered and looked at the Blodian. “Amazing what he can do with his mouth,” she commented, ignoring the obviously suggestive way Caffrey cleared his throat.

  It was impressive. The Blodian's ability to control not only the amount of material ejected from its mouth but the shape, texture, color and surface design, was a tribute to the wonders of diversity. The model was close to completion, and the rather slender—at least compared to most of the fellow members of his species—artist was studying the final details of Violet's face.

  "I find your eyes quite interesting. I have never seen any, on any creature or being, of such purpleness,” the Blodian confessed with a soft smile.

  "Thank you. My mother's eyes were just as purple. You do wonderful work. I admire your ability. My mom used to dabble in pottery making."

  "This is the mum of the piss-off-and-buy-your-own-card-on-Mothers-Day variety?” teased Caffrey, not realizing the minefield he was negotiating.

  Dual purple beacons flared. “How many mothers do you suppose I have?” snapped Violet.

  Caffrey could feel a deadly heat threatening to scorch his scalp. His dark locks were saved
by the sudden entrance of Peebo.

  If it was possible for a small, spherical robot to be out of breath, Peebo certainly displayed all the signs of being so. He vibrated up and down like a panting dog and beads of moisture shimmered on his flushed surface.

  "Peebo?” Violet queried the android.

  "What's the matter, boy?” asked Caffrey.

  Peebo continued his spastic movements, and Caffrey shrugged. “I can never figure out what the thing's trying to say."

  A rumbling sound grew, like a passing marathon. Peebo jumped and exited as quickly as he'd entered. Caffrey's curiosity led him to the front door, and guffaws spewed from his lungs.

  Outside, Peebo, Yin, Poe 33 and Greppledick were being pursued across the wide landscape by a dozen very annoyed Blodians. A group of non-perturbed Builders, who had found Peebo's antics quite funny, followed behind, catcalling and laughing.

  "Maybe we should get Khorus,” suggested Caffrey.

  * * * *

  The Great Chamber of Peace and Pudge Production also served as the Chamber Hall of Justice for the Blodians. It was buzzing with annoyance and excitement. Blodians had a proud history of fairly administered justice and a tolerance for allowing all sides equal voice and representation. They had no written laws, as their philosophy was one of judging the moment. They placed great importance on the influence of “the season of the inquiry,” as they referred to the mitigating circumstances and spirit of the accused's offense.

  Since the honor and integrity of all involved was never in doubt, this method of justice proved extremely effective for the Blodians. They were, however, a raucous species when riled; and the courtroom, despite its intrinsic honor, was anything but subdued.

  Khorus stood upon his podium and scanned the faces of the gathered. He was donning his red-and-yellow-striped Tusk Covers of Fair Dispensement and the blue-powdered Mane of the Magistrate. It was traditional in the ways of Blodian judicial practice to allow an Official Moment of Mayhem, wherein everyone present was allowed to vent and verbally rage until they were too exhausted to interrupt the legal process once it began. Yin, Caffrey, Violet and Greppledick watched in awe as the group of angered Blodians shouted across the room at the laughing, less-offended folk.

  Poor little Peebo floated inside the confines of the open-air Station of the Accused, like a hockey player sent to the penalty box.

  "We are in deep doo-doo,” Caffrey announced, folding his arms in disgust. “Couldn't you keep a leash on that beach ball?"

  Greppledick glared at him. “Are you forgetting he saved your life?"

  "And now we may be sentenced to build mud piles or whatever it is the Blodians sentence their criminals to."

  Violet leaned across Greppledick and shook her head at Caffrey. “We aren't on trial. Peebo is."

  "Relax,” advised Yin, with calm assurance. “The Blodians are a fair folk."

  The Horn of Silence sounded. Its deep wave of sound drifted like fog across the room, and a reverent silence was left in its wake.

  Khorus opened the proceedings. “I announce, with great embarrassment, the trial of the android Peebo, brought to this assembly on the charge of Rude Artistic Interjection.” The words oozed from his mouth like semi-melted toffee. “Is there anything you can offer, Master Peebo, that might change the minds of those in the Seats of Accusation?"

  "Interesting approach,” Caffrey whispered.

  Peebo jiggled and wiggled.

  "Is there someone present who can act as interpreter to the accused?"

  Greppledick clambered stiffly to his feet. “I can, your Honorableness."

  "Then proceed."

  "He says he meant no harm. He was simply excited by his newfound ability. But, if I may suggest, please feel free to sentence me to death in his place. I will protest not.” Greppledick bowed melodramatically, ignoring the dirty looks thrown his way by his friends.

  "Impossible!” declared Khorus, turning back to Peebo in disbelief. “The Blodian's craft is a sacred art! It is not something that can be rushed or automated!"

  Peebo wiggled and jiggled some more. Khorus looked to Greppledick.

  "He says it was fun."

  "Fun?” spouted Khorus indignantly. “Fun to mock the ancient ways of his hosts?"

  Greppledick attempted to elaborate on Peebo's sensibilities. “You must understand, Your Honor, Peebo is a mere child. It was all a game to him."

  "If I may, sir?” Caffrey stood up. Greppledick resumed his seat.

  "Will you be speaking for the accused?” asked Khorus.

  "I'm speaking for the situation at hand. Nefarious's grip on your world will inexorably grow tighter. Your only hope for freedom is to quickly construct the face that pleases him. Your freedom can be expedited if you will allow, in this extreme case, little Peebo to knock out a few dozen samples."

  The chamber erupted into howls of indignation, and the horn was sounded again, returning the silence to the room.

  Khorus threw a stern glare at Caffrey. “We have never, ever knocked out a work before. Nor will we, sir!"

  "And I am not asking that you do. I am suggesting that Peebo does it. Nefarious is not worthy of your hallowed work. Toss him a contentious bone disguised as deep respect, and you can all have the last laugh at his expense."

  Khorus smiled nervously, unsure of how to proceed.

  "...And as a gesture of our thanks for your hospitality, we will give you Peebo as our gift,” Caffrey bowed.

  Greppledick jumped to his feet again, eyeing Caffrey viciously. “Are you mad? I will not allow this!"

  "Uncle...” Caffrey tried to hush the old man. “...we have no choice. We either give them Peebo or risk him being found guilty. He will then suffer whatever consequences they hand out."

  Greppledick turned to Khorus. “What, may I ask, is the punishment for being found guilty of Rude Artistic Interjection?"

  Khorus sat back in his chair. “Quite often,” he described, “we will send the convicted on a tour, all expenses paid, naturally, of the Avenue of the Ancients, where the great works of the Very Old and Often Forgotten Elders are studied and brought to the forefront of the accused's memory. There are, of course, sweetie breaks and rather nice and comfortable toilet facilities."

  "That doesn't sound so bad,” mused Greppledick.

  A sudden distant buzzing followed by hurried footsteps disrupted the proceedings. A voice screeched out into the hall, “The Flies are here! The Flies are here!"

  A series of explosions rattled and rocked the world around them.

  "Flies?” Greppledick was confused.

  "It's O.D.O.R!” yelled Caffrey as chaos swept across the room.

  "Take to the Holes!” bawled Khorus. “To the Holes!"

  The rumbling of hundreds of Blodian boots backgrounded the energy blasts, explosions and the whining buzz of the O.D.O.R craft. Stark shadows of the invader ships crossed the hall, casting gloom down through the skylight.

  "They've tracked down Poe! We have to get out of here!” cried Yin.

  "Once again, I have failed my friends,” moaned Poe 33.

  "Never mind that!” yelled Violet, drawing her weapon from. Caffrey, trying to ignore the dominatrix undertones of the holster's straps, secured provocatively from her waist and down around her uppermost thigh, took out his Willy and surveyed the situation.

  "To The Moby Dick!"

  Khorus, about to exit through a rear doorway, turned to the group and called out, “We will commence with the trial tomorrow. Unless your offer to leave the robot with us is still on the table?"

  "We'll leave Peebo!” Caffrey agreed, fumbling at the settings on his weapon.

  "I will not abandon him!” Greppledick shouted.

  Poe shot Peebo a glare that reeked of sibling rivalry. “Dad always loved you best."

  Peebo shimmied innocently. Caffrey grabbed his uncle by the loose folds of his robe and took him aside. “You built an emotional midget. If you stay here with Peebo, Poe won't be able to piss in a pot, never mind e
scort and protect the wisest crap in the universe."

  "What are you saying? I have to remain alive until we find the L'Orange?"

  "Poe needs his daddy. You two have to work through this angst that's emerged in his programming."

  Greppledick took a deep breath and exhaled hard. “One day, when you croak, you'll realize how mean you were to me."

  A crash of glass and metal exploded overhead and the deadly shards rained down. Three of the Fly Craft rode in on ear-piercing buzzing.

  "Then again, we may all be minutes away from your wondrous afterlife!” Caffrey noted.

  "To The Moby Dick!” Yin yipped, taking off.

  Caffrey pushed Poe 33 along; Greppledick turned quickly to Peebo. “Peebo, my pup, Daddy is leaving you here with the Blodians. Your older brother needs me. You behave and help the nice folk build their little faces."

  Peebo nuzzled up to Greppledick's shoulder and took off, following Khorus out the back door.

  "Oh, the pangs of parenthood,” the old man moaned.

  Violet fired a volley of red lightning at the O.D.O.R drones, momentarily stopping them in their tracks. Caffrey followed with a half-dozen electric-yellow strings that slammed across the targets, leaving scorch marks and a little black smoke.

  Violet frowned as she watched the attacking Fly ships. “You're only muffing up the paint job! Quark, turn your weapon off pansy-mode!"

  He switched the setting to Bon Voyage mode and fired a purple string, striking the leading craft and sending it off to some roll-of-the-dice location in a swirl of energy.

  Yin had already led Poe 33 out the front door. Violet covered Greppledick's exit with another blast from her pistol as Caffrey ducked a beam of purple energy that nearly parted his hair. Yin and Poe were running at top speed, weaving through and around the legs of the panic-stricken Blodians, who were racing for their underground bunkers. Poe 33 was pushing Yin's little cardiovascular system to numbers off the dial.

  In the sky, a large O.D.O.R craft hung as if on a hook, swaying silently as the little Bopple and the android passed below. A pair of large bomb-bay doors opened and dozens of small, pilotless Gnat Craft were released like fry from a live-bearing sasukki fish.