by Mike DiCerto
A few meters back, Caffrey and Violet were frustrated by Greppledick's pace, which at times smelled of a conspiracy to get himself killed beneath the stampede of Blodian feet. They crossed the main road and joined Yin and Poe on the main drag leading to the landing space of The Moby Dick. Violet fired into the swarm of the smaller Gnats, scattering them in every direction. A trio rejoined from the broken swarm and shot back like darts, coming to a dead halt inches from the faces of Caffrey, Violet and Greppledick. Small, bright-yellow dish antennas scanned them head to foot. Obviously disinterested in the three humans, they took off back to rejoin the swarm.
"They want Poe and Poe alone,” said Caffrey, firing a series of shots into the throng and lessening their numbers by three.
Poe and Yin managed to make it to the landing ramp. The Gnats moved in, forming a ring around the craft. Yin jumped up and, using his front paws, pressed the button, releasing the lock and opening the portal. The pooch entered, and the android followed. Before the door could be closed, two of the buzzing mechanical Gnats flew in and quickly reemerged, carrying Poe by the shoulders.
"They've got my Poe!” shouted Greppledick.
Caffrey aimed his weapon at the robot-nappers, but Violet pushed aside his barrel, dropped to one knee and squinted a marksman's eye as Poe was lifted towards the mother ship. She seemed to be carefully calculating when to fire. Her brain went about its scheme; and finally, with a confidence that irked but impressed Caffrey, she pulled the trigger twice. Two shots. Two kills. Poe 33 dropped from the sky. There was a splash, and the vaguely disgusting sound of the surface skin of a mud pond breaking.
The Moby Dick's guns began firing wildly at the Gnats. Violet and Greppledick rushed to the fallen android; and if not for the need for expediency, they would have rolled around the ground in hysterics for a week or so.
Poor Poe was encased in mud. He'd been transformed into a five-foot-nine brown turd with glowing eyes. They lifted him from the mire, serenaded by a chorus of slurps, pops and lip-smacking noises.
"Thank you, Violet, for your assistance. I was close to becoming O.D.O.R's bitch."
They rushed back to The Moby Dick, leaving a little trail of mud behind them. In the cabin, Yin was busy hanging onto the large anti-craft guns, firing wildly. Caffrey jumped into the chair at the G.S. station.
"Dammit, Angie, where are you?” he complained as he scanned the screens. His eyes lit up. “A message—she left me a message!"
"I'd hurry, Quarky!” Yin cried out.
"What's going on out there?"
"Oh, just a few dozen more Fly Craft approaching at frightening speeds."
Caffrey played the audio note. Angie's recorded voice filled the ship's interior.
"Dear comrade Yin, my favorite studly android, Poe, Sir Greppledick and Captain and Mrs. Scum. I have done my duty by programming the ship's navigation systems with the location of the hole in the dike. You should emerge in the system of Ms. Thing's favorite planet, Desmitten. I hope she burns her cute ass on the simmering wicks she's left behind there. I may or may not meet you there. Adios."
"I knew she wouldn't let me down!” Caffrey smiled.
"Studly? Am I really studly?” Poe wondered of his reflection.
The Moby Dick lifted off the world of the Blodians as Yin helped to clear the way with a continuous barrage of fire. An alarm sounded.
"Now what?” asked Violet.
Caffrey read the warning display. “Beautiful—our hole seems to have shrunk to microscopic size."
"You mean to tell me we're stuck in this box?” Greppledick said, irritably.
"No. We'll be blown to smithereens shortly,” explained Yin.
"Violet, man the aft guns. I need to call for help.” Caffrey dove into his sleeping compartment and shut himself in the dark interior. A barrage of strange looks followed him in.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
With a Little Help from My Friends
What would you think if I sang out of tune?
Would you stand up and walk out on me?
The Beatles
Voices faded. Lights dimmed. The curtain was drawn. Slowly an image began to form on the darkened stage of Caffrey's mind. It was a cylindrical item, purplish-red, and it appeared to have the texture of meat.
The projection took on more and more realism until Caffrey felt an odd desire. It was a desire that had become foreign to him. Taboo. Nonetheless, Caffrey desperately wanted to touch the fleshy tube. He felt drool forming on his lips. A twang in his stomach. He wanted to put his mouth on it.
A brilliant white beam, some powerful off-stage spotlight, made its way toward the object. The light beam was moving in slow motion, its end creeping closer like frozen toothpaste from a tube, until it struck the object and illuminated it in all its glory.
Caffrey smiled at the alamastre sausage—a beautiful specimen of the heart-clogging, mouth-burning, stomach-filling, tastebud-pleasing foodstuff that had filled many a sandwich in his days as a carnivore. Shredded and spread with hirooshi radish on a slab of teeth-yanking guba bread and accented to perfection with a pint of dark and potent Ainsberry stout, it was the specialty that had made Geldersnaps & Hoo's famous galaxy-wide.
The sausage spun around like a cheesy Vegas act, and a little face formed upon it.
Very good, Caffrey! You are learning! Take a ride!
Are you taking us to Desmitten?
In time. Nefarious is watching. He must be distracted.
Distracted? Can't you shut this guy up once and for all! I'm tired of this. I want Ancient Earth. I want my bed. I want to step in Yin's shit on the sidewalk outside the Crimson Court Pub!
Wonderful ambitions. And it is you who must stop Nefarious. I have no such powers.
How the heck can I destroy somebody who can devolve entire planets?
The sausage laughed, did a little dance then turned to solid gold. Transmute is what you must do. Not destroy!
The friendly little sausage launched into the air and instantly morphed into a bright yellow star with an eyeball at its center. The eye winked, then spoke. Look for me. And when you see. One step closer will you be!
What about the hole in the cosmic box? Desmitten?
The yellow, one-eyed star exploded in pitch-black light, and all went dark.
* * * *
"No way,” said Violet, dazed as she stared out the portal to the green world spinning outside. “No hairy way."
"Caffrey's mind is impressing me more every day,” commented Yin. He trotted over to the sleeping compartment, released the hatch and discovered his master still sitting cross-legged, eyes closed.
"He is mastering my Master,” whispered Poe 33 with restrained awe.
Violet nudged Caffrey gently. “Quark, wake up. We're here."
Caffrey opened his eyes partway and immediately saw Violet, Yin and Poe staring at him through the cabin doorway. He closed his eyes.
Violet shook him again. “Take a look at your handiwork."
"I'm afraid to."
"You should be,” agreed Violet with admiration. “I'm dumbfounded!"
"Where are we?"
"In orbit around Desmitten,” explained Yin.
"No frigging way!” Caffrey jumped out and rushed to the window. He gasped. “Holy mother of moly!"
A smile emerged, growing wider and wider until a mere facial expression could no longer contain his emotions. He let out a fist-in-the-air-pumping, thigh-slapping, wide-eyed bellowing cry of self-impressed approbation. Caffrey felt like he could shit roses.
"Can you believe it?” he enthused, grabbing Violet by the shoulders. “That amazing lump of cosmic marmalade was right! I did it. I used my mind! My thoughts! To get us here!"
"Somewhat frightening,” mumbled Greppledick.
"Not at all, actually,” contradicted Poe 33. “Whether it was his mind, my left foot, Yin's right paw or a Blodian candy dish. Whatever. All are part of the One. The totality of the hologram that is the Cosmos. All is accessible. All is controllable. It's just that so
me minds are more apt than others."
Caffrey pulled Violet to him and hugged her tightly, kissing her hard on the mouth; Poe 33 stepped up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Caffrey released a gasping Violet and kissed Poe on the mouth. The android spoke again.
"I am humbled by your powers, Quark Caffrey. I have no alternative but to pass the torch of responsibility to you. I was once the great Poe 33. I am now nothing. Garbage. Filth. Waste. You are far worthier to take the title ‘Portsmith’ than I, a mere metallic buffoon not worthy of the touch of your lips. Perhaps I will check myself into a buffoonery."
Poe's backing music was especially depressing.
Greppledick had heard enough from the android. “Baloney, Poe! Stop making this about you, and make it about the All! The Cosmos despises martyrs who martyr for the sake of martyrdom."
"Oh! So now you, a human, are going to teach me about my connection with the Cosmos? I, Poe 33, who went through and completed the Rendavene?"
"Poe..."
"I once understood my connection. But when the faith from others fails...” Poe threw a stern look to Greppledick. “...one can lose focus."
"If I hear one more self-pitying opus emerge from your mouth I'll take you apart, reassemble you into an electric chair and kill myself!"
"Moldy peaches to you, Father,” Poe 33 muttered as he stalked off to a quiet corner.
"Moldy peaches?” Greppledick stared after the android as he rubbed his temples.
"Caffrey,” called Yin, looking up from the G.S. station, “There's a small O.T.H.E.R contingent on Desmitten. Bayville. Next town over from Heddington. Nice piece of luck. They're a well-connected group."
"Not luck, my poochie. Synchronicity,” corrected Caffrey smugly.
Violet moaned. “I despise this place."
"Serendipity personified,” insisted Caffrey.
"Don't get too cocky, Quarky. I have friends all over this galaxy,” Yin winked.
Caffrey asserted himself. “Strap yourselves in, everyone. First stop, Geldersnaps and Hoo's! I want to smell the dank air. See the moldy walls and taste the ale! I want to tapdance in Yin's shit!"
"The human mind is a frightening device,” murmured Yin.
Caffrey jumped to the controls like a child on an amusement park ride and took The Moby Dick down through the thick clouds of Desmitten. Poe sat silently with his eyes closed. His father slept beside him, enjoying dreams of sudden and painless deaths. It would be a half-hour before they'd touch down into the C.H.E.E.S.E (County Heddington Environmental Elutriation and Spacecraft Esplanade) facility1.
Traffic was typically light for mid-afternoon. In minutes, The Moby Dick was approved for a full-day stay. Caffrey parked her in a space beneath the lovely crimson leaves of a soppy liver tree, and they strolled off toward the town center.
* * * *
Bacon Strip Road is the primary drag of Heddington. It runs east-west in the lap of the rolling hills that wander off in every direction. The street is lined with ornate but rusted and ill-kept lampposts and stone buildings with roofs of thick logs. It resembles a forgotten set of a sword-and-sorcery movie.
The people of Heddington, Crustosapians, are muscular folk covered in a thick bronze exoskeleton, giving them the appearance of wearing heavy plate mail. Their round heads are topped with thick black hair falling around their shoulders. They tend to stroll about with a casual, care-we-not confidence and deep sense of tradition. Their macabre sense of humor and strong love of friends and drink has elevated their spirits far above their sub-par standard of living.
Heddington itself was once a favorite rest stop of intergalactic pirates and questing adventurers wandering off to find the enigmatic Silver Sompom2. It had, to Caffrey's delight, changed very little since his last visit. As the party walked past the Hash for Cash Butcher Shop, the popular Slabloafs Cakery Bakery and the Wicked Wicks Candle Shoppe, he offered up a running commentary, accented with yarns that had become tangled and knotted with exaggeration and hyperbole. Nonetheless, like a master alchemist, he transformed the base elements of his youthful encounters with first barroom brawls, first jobs and first times into golden tales of danger, adventure and memorably steamy sex.
"Here she is!” Caffrey announced as he stepped up to the knotty wooden doors of the last building on the Strip and bowed, as if about to enter a house of worship. “Geldersnaps and Hoo's!"
"We can read,” Violet retorted, wiping the sign with her hand and leaving a streak in the thick dust.
Poe 33 bowed as well, although he wasn't sure why.
"You can keep the posh, transcontinental cuisine of Seryene. I'll pass on the admittedly delicious eclectic morsels from Janis 5. I'll even put off a meal from the imaginative and spice-minded kitchens of GhoboGhobo. Because a meal within these hallowed walls is more than mere nutrition, more than a chance to impress friends or that special apple of your eye. This is a trans-temporal journey for the soul. A return to simple times of warm days, cool nights and moist, lingering kisses."
"And barfing until the sun comes up,” added Violet, sadistically.
"You wax any more sentimental, Caffrey, and I'm gonna slip in it and break my hip,” warned Greppledick.
"Why don't we enter this little Xanadu and get something to eat?” prompted Yin, who reared up on his hind legs and entered his twenty-pound body into a losing duel with the hundred-pound door.
"Sound idea, my little best friend.” Caffrey gave a push, and the ancient hinges sang their tired dirge. The group proceeded in.
Violet already had her palm over her nose. “God! The place smells worse than I remember."
Yin's face was contorted. ‘I would think odors like this would be unforgettable!"
Caffrey marched ahead, joyfully filling his lungs with the stale atmosphere as if the essence of baking bread permeated the air. Actually, if one had the olfactory prowess to filter through the pungent bouquet of body odor, smoke, ancient ale and urine, the fragrances of food wafting in from the kitchen were, in fact, present. There were no signs of artificial lighting; and sunlight, dimmed by the struggle through the filthy windows, cast a strange glow on the stone walls, thick wood columns and vaulted ceiling. Miscellaneous pieces of rusted armor, battle-worn swords and the skull of a dragon-like creature served as decoration.
The place was modestly busy—primarily the early lunch crowd from the local mines plus the handful of regulars who had come to be looked upon as appliances rather than patrons. An old but robust female Heddingtonite blocked any further passage for the party.
"You be here for fooding, or you be here for drinking?” she demanded in an accent that seemed from the Down-under region of Earth.
"We be here for bothing! Table for four.” Caffrey smiled.
Yin yipped.
"...and a half,” Caffrey corrected. He tapped the woman's shoulder. “Don't you remember me?"
"No,” she spat, never looking up as she led them toward a rear table.
"Sure you do, Trillaka, it's me—Caffrey."
The woman stopped abruptly. “Caffrey?” she repeated as if she should remember. “Quark?” She turned, and her gnarled frown softened to a warm smile. “Caffrey Quark, so it is! You soft-bellied butcher of virginal mothers!"
Trillaka threw her arms around his chest and sent the total volume of his lungs rushing out his nostrils and mouth with a surprised Oof!
After a few failed attempts Caffrey managed to refill his lungs. “Nice to see you, too. The place hasn't changed a bit."
"The day Yitso and Rigmond renovate this bottom-hole of a splatdragon is the day my own bottom fits on a single stool."
"You look terrific, Trillaka."
They took their seats around the cracked and splintered table. Trillaka nodded warmly to each but let her gaze linger, oscillating between Violet and Poe 33.
"I'm as colorblind as a zetchibird, but would I be assuming too much to guess that you have purple eyes?"
"That's right,” Violet admitted, trying to not le
t her suspicions mar her smile.
Trillaka studied the blue-and-orange android. “Are you a Bopple, mock man3?"
"Me? Nay, kind lady. I am named Poe 33."
"I'm the Bopple,” popped out Yin, his ears at attention. “And this is Greppledick Quark. May I ask what the significance of my species is to you?"
Trillaka smiled, cleared her throat and spat on the ground with the gusto of a Belkibon. “A Vookie4 was asking about a nice-on-the-sight human with purple eyes who might be stopping by with a Bopple. Said I ain't never known what a Bopple was. He left something for you, took a gander at the zebadoos then went on his way."
"Zebadoos?” Greppledick asked.
"A flying breed of babadoos. Two sets of buttocks."
"What did he leave?” asked Violet.
The heavyset Heddington woman gave Violet a suspicious looking-over then reached into her front pocket and retrieved a small iron rod. She handed it to Violet without a word, took the drink orders and headed off.
"What is that?” Poe 33 asked.
"A note. We'll read it later. I'll need your help, Poe.” Violet placed the rod on the tabletop then smiled softly. “I'd love to see the zebadoos when we've eaten."
Trillaka quickly returned, balancing a round-a-roop on the tip of her left middle claw. She spun the heavy porkerwood disk and slid drinks one by one rudely across the table. Ainsberry ale for Caffrey and Violet, Heddington spicewater for Yin—as potent as his little metabolism could handle—and a triple indigotz, a very potent gin made from black third-eye berries, for Greppledick, who was secretly planning to OD on the powerful liqueur. Caffrey led the toast to success, and a second round was downed before the food arrived.
Caffrey resisted the temptation to order an alamastre sandwich, but enjoyed the essence wafting from the plates of both Greppledick and Violet. Instead, he scarfed down a delightful shredded lamberoot sandwich, which is a vegetarian alternative with a surprisingly similar texture and taste to that of real alamastre, with hirooshi radish on guba bread. Yin enjoyed a bowl of jebonji chili and assailed his lunch-mates with a number of ooey, gooey, rich and chewy doggie farts as a result.
Violet's stomach was filled after just half of the tremendous sandwich. She was anxious to pay a visit to her favorite animals; and Poe 33, having nothing better to do, joined her and Yin to share the experience.