The Voyages of the Penelope and the Yydryl

Jenovah watched from above and saw that it was good.
The line above was actually used in the official story from the Cul's history books,
Petron's Mother used it first.

There were three Flayer-Guards in the Arsenal Room and when Nenothtu shot two
of them at the moment he kicked the door open, Boy In A Dress dived in beside him
and let his hair do the rest. This third clone Flayer watched wide-eyed and strangling at
the tall Vandal in the wide-rimmed hat reaching for the Mini-Gun.

The Culs... those who realised that they would have to help themselves -if they wanted
liberty, shuffled into the room with the low-ceiling and grabbed at Burn Bars and other
weapons that the Light Flayers had acquired over the years.

"It's been said before... but that is definitely you" BIAD hissed as his tresses released
the swollen-headed Guard, Neno showed a lop-sided grin that looked haunted and placed
the gun's strap over his shoulder.

Tibbs scanned the Arsenal for any different technologies and the small spectacled man
smiled also as he spotted the Scanner, the smile faded as he saw his friend with the
multi-barreled weapon. "That should be destroyed at the earliest opportunity" Tibbs
scolded the taller man, yet the 'colder-than-a-gravedigger's-belt-buckle' smile from
Nenothtu made Tibbs pull his robes closer and focus on the handset.

They left the weapon's room and set off up the winding steps of the corridor, the blue
lighting from the walls made the scene seem surreal.

"What's ahead?" Neno whispered over his shoulder and it was Kell who answered quietly.
"Our King is in the room to the left and across the way, two Flayers reside with a scientist
known as..." her small voice was cut-off as Tibbs interjected a word that seemed coated with
venom. "Caspak" came the word and Boy In A Dress, Nenothtu and Jepp -all looked at the
Vithian beside them, features like gathering storm clouds lay on the old man's face.

Neno checked the cylindrical metal-jacket that fitted snugly in the bottom of the Mini-Gun's
stock, the many barrels took on the wall's blue hue as he slipped quietly up the stone stairs
and he was pleasantly pleased that the few Culs behind him were keeping their footfalls
quiet.
.............................................................
The scientist glanced at the two lazy-looking Flayer-Guards and wondered why The Dark Lord
would even consider asking him to create more clones, when the current ones seemed to be
interested in nothing more -than avoiding their tasks.
'Mine is not to ask' Caspak thought to himself sarcastically and turned to continue the
extraction from the twelve-year old Cul girl.

Jamma's long blonde hair was soaked in sweat as she watched the tentacles writhe around
the white-coated being's mouth, she wished her Father was here, he would unlock the clasps
that held her arms and legs, he would make the bad-man go away.
Yet, it was the tall man... the outremer U-man that changed the day.

The noise was deafening and the room stank of gunsmoke, but through the blue smoke -it
was the tall man that answered Jamma's wish.

The nasty scientist didn't die under the hail of bullets and as Petron's Mother clicked the
manacles open, she saw a dwarf-like being enter the room and close on the cowering Flayer
called Caspak.
She ran to the arms of her Father and being lifted up, she buried her head in his welcoming
shoulder-length hair.

Tibbs leaned close to the prone figure of Caspak and glanced towards Neno and BIAD to see
if they were listening, the Vithian's two friends were busying themselves searching the
bullet-ridden Guards.

"You have disgraced the art of science, Caspak and now... to redeem yourself, you will
reveal the information to close the Ophi-Rip" he hissed. The Flayer-Doctor looked with
fearful oily-eyes at the bearded man and muttered "I... I dare not, The Dark One will cast
me into the darkness"

It was a strong hand that swept the white-gowned creature into the air and Caspak stared
into the fierce-looking face of the one they call the Neo.

"Listen to me little-man... I AM the darkness, spill the beans and save yer'self from me
shavin' those things off yer' face" said Nenothtu, Caspak saw hours of horror awaiting in
those fuming eyes.

Caspak 'spilled the beans' and after being placed in the rack-like contraption that Jamma
had endured, gagged and placed asleep with the butt of Neno's pistol, our odd band of
invaders moved on towards the dying King's room.

Nenothtu nudged the ajar door of the King's bedroom open with the Mini-Gun and
without revealing any emotion on his stone-like features, he eyed the young Y'Lrang
and his sister tending to their Father.

Y'Quorra waited at the foot of the bed and the GunMan guessed she had told the old
man of her secret love, the low-lit room hid the face of the King, but Neno could smell
the despair around the place

Without speaking, he stepped back and let the Culs shuffle in to give their respects.
"I'm gonna move a-little along and see what we're up against" said Neno softly to Tibbs
and nodded to Boy In A Dress to indicate company, the Man/girl stepped off along the
rising corridor.

"You be careful..." the Vithian said fatherly and touched the barrels of Neno's newly-
acquired gun, the act of respect to a warrior "... and remember, watch out for Ophis,
they are Masters of stealth" he finished.

The tall Vandal moved out with BIAD at point, the packed corridor behind them murmered
as they went.

The Light Flayers came a-calling around ten of Earth's minutes later and 'Neno's wrath did
smite mightily'

Again, a sentence used from the Cul's historical data, Tibbs actually read it four hundred
years later on a copper scroll in The Bildern Museum on Altaire IV.

In truth, Caspak awoke from his pistol-forced unconciousness and using his long-taloned
foot, knocked over a chemical vial, the pungent smell set-off a silent alarm in the Main
Guard Room and after consulting a hidden camera in the King's room, the Flayers rushed
down the corridor to corral the escaped-Culs back into their prison cell.

The Light Flayer clones blundered into Nenothtu and Boy In A Dress in their haste to clean
up the mess and that's when the above quote became true.

BIAD's hair threw the Guard's around and seemed to enjoy dashing the face-tentacled
beings against the smooth-blue walls, the Mini-Gun became hot with dispensing Neno's
wrath and yet, on-and-on, and on-and-on, the grinning tall man in the Cowboy attire strode
and the food of the hermaphrodite's brother became many and piled.

Then it was quiet again... and Neno dropped the exhausted weapon onto the tiled-floor
of the Throne-Room Foyer. The loud sound of metal-on-stone blocked out BIAD's panting
as he tossed the last of the Flayers face-first to join the smoking Mini-Gun.

"So... he who lavishes mayhem at the foot of my seat is finally here..." came a rumbling
voice from behind the Throne Room door "... the time is nigh" it chortled and Nenothtu turned
to face the high entrance way and his destiny.

~*~ Home ~*~

Silo clenched the arms of her flight seat prepared for a rough landing and for the first time she didn’t envy BIADS long lacquered nails as her own dug deep into the fabric of the chair. She’d ordered them in fast. The Regalian took her at her word.

Chumley navigated the Sprint through the Yydryl’s tight re-entry alley flying fast and true. Red and blue pilot lights trailed long swirling tracks along the moss green tunnel allowing them deeper and deeper into the subterranean of the living Ship. A bright green hologram path shot ahead of the little craft dead center up the middle of the channel guiding their way. The Sprint held steady. The last thing Silo saw before she scrunched her eyes closed was the sides of the passageway opening wide as the Sprint exploded into the massive flight bay.

‘Stop!‘ Silo howled. Chumley laughed and let out his breath in putrid Whoosh! as the Sprint settled gently onto the deck of the Yydryl. It wasn’t until Silo felt the craft being towed forward to the repair docks did she open her eyes.

Hoots and whistles from the flight deck droids echoed back and forth along the cavernous bay. Silo hid a smile. Chumley’s face suffused with pride made him almost handsome. For Chumley. Until be started waving back to the droids both tentacles flapping, wiggling his massive eyebrows, his fat gray tongue lolling out the corner of his mouth like a happy slug. Silo gave him a sharp slap to the back of his head. Chumley refused to look chagrined but stopped waving and tucked in his tongue.

‘We‘ll talk about the definition of ’fast’ later.’ Silo growled throwing off her flight yoke, ’Right now you get this rig serviced and ready to go back ASAP. Then go get yourself a drink at the bar.‘ Silo shot him a wink before she went to check on the others.

Dag was already out of her own jump seat bending over Adam unbuckling his safety harness. Her ash-white hair, shorter now, still fell over her forehead hiding her face.

‘Well we made it...’ Silo sighed scowling at Muckles over Dag’s back. Muckles scowled right back and lifted her poncho. Silo said noting but pointedly tapped the long curved blade strapped to her thigh. Muckles dropped her poncho. Message received.

’Come on Dag. Time to get Adam to the Recovery Bay just give Carpet a chance to reintegrate with the Yydryl before you get there. Should be as easy as leaving him to lay in the hall outside the sick room while you get a healing bed ready.’ Silo hinted gently.

Dag raised her eyes to Silo and nodded her wide confident grin a reflection of her relief. Pulling the girl to her feet Silo clasped her friend close in a quick hug. Dag returned the embrace.

‘Good luck Dag’. She whispered and let her go.

Hunching down on her heels Silo hesitated then shook Adam’s shoulder gently his skin cold and doughy under her fingers. ‘Carpet? Can you hear me?’ Adam’s vacant eyes opened, blinked, and became clearer.

‘We're home?’ Adam’s lips barely moved when Carpet spoke.

‘Yeah Carpet, we’re home. You gonna be alright?’ Brow furrowed against the lingering stench of putrid flesh Silo grimaced.

‘Better than ever...soon as I get back where I belong.’ Carpet replied with a hint of his old aplomb.

‘How about Adam?’ Not for the first time Silo wondered if they’d arrived back on the Yydryl in time.

‘Good...now...we’re...here...lass‘ Adam replied on his own. Both Silo and Dag’s eyes widened, caught and locked. Hope cut a sharp sweet path through their hearts.

‘Rest now...‘ Silo choked around the lump in her throat. Patting Adam lightly on the shoulder Silo pushed to her feet and without another word turned to go.

It was time to focus on the Yydryl.

They were home - but they weren't out of the woods yet.

Dag watched Silo go, then turned to Mucklebones, who, now that her threatener had gone, thought it prudent to try to bond with the girl. She smiled and flapped her poncho coquettishly.

"While I have reasons to, um....appreciate your contributions, Muckles, I have a task here at hand. A life or death matter. But of course you know that."

Muckles nodded. "But, I do not know this place," Muckles pouted. "I won't know where to go."

Dag sighed and gave a taunting pout herself. "Aww, what a pity! Well, I've no map in hand. I guess you'll just have to learn it. Chumley?" She turned to where her massive friend and helper had been seated, but he was gone too, having followed his beloved Silo to try to restore strength to the Yydryl. Looking to the console Dag reassured herself that the Green Man -- and Ship -- had also been evacuated.

She turned back to Muckles. "On second thought, I suggest you just stay RIGHT HERE until Silo comes back for you. Wouldn't want you getting lost. It's a big place, and you promised Silo you'd help her."

Muckles' shoulders drooped and her poncho sagged.

Dag had a fleeting surge of pity at the Crone's loneliness. They had left her beloved Tibbs behind.
Carpet's voice interrupted her compassionate interlude. "Dag, urgency is incumbent upon all of us."

Dag looked from the withered Crone to her own love. Adam's eyes had clouded over. "Adam!" she squealed. "Ad-dammmm! Stay with me!!" She leaned over him and peered into his eyes, his lovely, insightful eyes. The pupils had gone white. "No!"

Without another look at the witch who had given him this long, she hoisted him up into her arms with the strength of a mother whose child is in danger. Adam was not entirely unconscious, but unable to see. He had a flashback to another time and place, when his own mother, Helen, had single-handedly removed an enormous marble pillar under which he was being crushed during the violent pillaging of Troy.

Dag held her breath as she raced out of the Sprint through the docking bay. The airlock door whished open as they arrived. "Carpet! I've lost my orientation!! Which way to the recovery bay?"

Carpet's voice was weak now. "It lies on level two, but Dag, Adam's eyes are failing. I can't see where you are."

"Well, neither can I! All the lights are out anyway," she snapped back at him. "So now what?"

"Lay him down, Dag. Just lay us down. I can't help from here."

Without missing a beat, Dag was on her knees, and cradling Adam's skull she lowered him to the floor. She watched as his skin turned a sickening grey-yellow. "Carpet, are you doing that?".....no answer...."Carpet!!"

But it was no use.
Carpet had gone.

~*~ Going Home ~*~

Cindymar’s coughed, rubbed her eyes and sat up from the couch from where she’d been sleeping. Squatch her Maine Coon cat watched his mistress with the patience of the proverbial cat. Milli on the other hand was having none of it.

‘Took you long enough. What the hell did you drink?’ The Milli-Being living on the cat set it’s fur on end.

‘Squatch?‘ Cindy rubbed here eyes again, ‘what...happened?’ She yawned. ’Last thing I remember...’ CindyMars shot to her feet. The last thing she remembered was sharing a bottle with Ernie, her handyman from the Cabin, here on the Yydryl and wondering what to do about the screaming howling creature outside the door of the bar wanting to get in.

‘Oh Jenovah, did I drink to much and poor Ernie got killed?’ CindyMars spun a bit instep moving too quickly. “Wait just one freekin’ minute’. In all her years CindyMars never quite lost her earth lingo. ‘I’ve never had a hangover in my... What the hell did he do to me?’ CindyMars hand flew to the side of her head gingerly probing her temple. It throbbed.

‘He put you to sleep. Right before he left the bar and took care of that ‘thing’ out there. Messy business that. You might not want to look yet.’ Milli provided from the back of Squatch who was meticulously licking his fur back into place.

‘Oh my God. How could I have been so blind!’ CindyMars moaned her hand shielding her eyes in a gesture of astonishment. Trotting unsteadily behind the bar she found the empty space where her shotgun had been.

‘It’s him.’ Milli answered plainly.

‘Ernie? My handyman? HIM? That’s impossible!’ CindyMars swore again knowing exactly who Milli was referring to. Groping into the refrigeration until under the bar her hand came back up closed around a bottle of juice. Squatch jumped lightly atop the counter waiting for a treat. CindyMars was good about supplying treats in a crisis.

‘Then explain the pain in your temples.’ Milli snipped.

CindyMars pulled a face at her cat who just looked perplexed. ‘You know - if you’re right we have to get out of here...yesterday!’ Clearly unsettled she bolted some juice and returned the bottle to cold storage. This time her hand came back clutching another bottle this one filled with white liquid that passed for milk aboard the Yydryl. Pouring Squatch a puddle on the countertop CindyMars spun around to face the lineup of ornate liquored bottles setting like many colored statues before the mirrored wall on the shelf behind the bar.

‘A bit early for a hairy dog isn’t it?’ Milli censored wryly while Squatch made the puddle on the bar disappear. Having spent years at CindyMar’s cabin before the television Milli had gained a share of ‘earth lingo’ too, he just didn’t always get it right in the retelling.

‘Funny ha ha. I’m not looking for a drink. I hid an emergency teleport here...somewhere.’ Her fingers slipped nimbly under each bottle but came up missing. Eyeing a particularly elegant globe hanging from a golden thread around the neck of ’Aqua di Vive’ CindyMars gave a small hoot of joy removing the ’bauble’.

‘That thing?’ Milli blamed his present mix of curiosity and disdain on having spent too much time ridding on the back of a cat.

‘Yes, this thing.’ CindyMars dangled the globe before Squatch who bat at it with one great paw, gently. ‘It’s a... Well, it doesn’t matter what it is! It will get us where we’re going and before you ask we’re going somewhere I’ve not been in eons.’ CindyMars satisfied half of Milli’s questions while rummaging under the shelves. ‘And that someplace is someplace ‘he’ would never think of looking for us.’ She spoke in triumph her voice muffled by a heavy cloak she was struggling to pull over her head. Reaching back under the bar she brought back a faded gray plastic animal carrier letting it fall on the bar with a clatter.

‘In!’ CindyMars swung the door to the carrier open waiting for Squatch to enter and turn around before closing it again. They’d practiced this before.

‘And where’s this magical place ‘he’ll’ never find us?’ Milli wondered his voice the muffled one now coming from deep inside the carrier.

‘Home.’ CindyMars answered fastening an extra snap on the carrier.

‘The cabin?’ Milli’s disbelief was clear, if stifled. ‘Are you still drunk? That’s the first place he’ll look!

‘No Milli, not the Cabin-home,’ CindyMars chuckled finding the idea more appealing by the moment, ’Home home. Acturus Prime.’ And without even a last look around the bar she smashed the small shining ball under her fist and in a flash of fiery light they were gone.

In the hallway Dag began to panic. The resolve and hope she had felt just moments earlier were fading fast. Adam's eyes had closed now, and she bent low to feel whether breath still fed him precious life. She could barely see in the dim hallway, the only light coming from a narrow transom gap above the airlock door.

"How do I call for a droid?" she wondered in a faint whisper. "Oh, Adam, I can't remember how to call for a droid!" She placed her slender, gentle hands on each side of her lover's face, and the chill flesh gave her goosebumps herself.
"Oh, no....nonono..." she gasped. "No, my love, I'll not let you leave me again. Adam, Adam open your eyes, look into mine and read how to call a droid, please." Dag's tears overflowed, landing on Adam's eyelids which remained closed for all her willing them to open. Despairing of all hope, she moved to lift his head onto her lap, and squeezed.

"Ow!" she heard Adam gasp, and felt droplets on her face. His eyes flew open, her own tears bouncing off of his luxurious lashes back up onto her cheek. "You hurt my ear!"

With a quickly drawn breath her own eyes grew bright and she smiled. "Adam!" she gasped again, "You died! You died again!"

Her delight in seeing him smile caused the lavendar in her eyes to dance. He chuckled lowly. "I never noticed that before," he muttered.

"How can you not notice that you died!" she asked, fearing he'd gone insane.

Adam raised his hands from the carpet in the hallway and tucked her hair back. "No, silly. I never noticed the glitter. Your eyes glitter." He smiled again, and in his eyes, now restored to their intense, lustrous magnetism, she saw her own. She smiled in wonder. "They ARE glittering! How did that happen?"

Adam reached to his chest. "You triggered the splitter. Your tears, love, it triggered the Splitter."

"I had completely forgotten it was there!" she said. "Do you think? It was my tears?"

Adam sat up, his flesh now a tepid sort of room-temperature beneath her fingers. "Nono," he said. "Your LOVE. Your tears are what cleared my eyes. Now, we need to call a droid, eh? I'm not sure I have the strength to make it all the way to the recovery bay."

And simply by way of him having said so, a droid appeared. "You called for transport, Sir?" Asked a Gurney-droid. Adam and Dag looked at one another and grinned. "A double?" Adam laughed out loud. "Well, yes, as a matter of fact, I guess I -- we--did."

"Recovery bay at once, Sir. And, Miss." Dag helped Adam to his feet and lovingly raised his weak legs onto the Gurney-droid, then climbed on herself. She snuggled her head into his chest.

"You still reek to high paradise," she muttered. "But I'll just breathe through my mouth 'til we get there."
Beneath her cheek, she felt Adam chuckle just as the droid lifted its rolling gear and the hiss of the aircushion activated. Within seconds they were flying through the hallway toward the Recovery Bay.

"Come with me, little girl, on a magic carpet ride," Adam sang lowly.

--------------------

The room went up forever and even though the darkness hid the ceiling, Carpet
guessed that somewhere up there, 'things' watched with cunning eyes.
Faint shafts of light seemed to linger above the milli-being and dark-blue smoke
drifted through these barely-visible beams.

"I can't continue this..." Carpet said in a small voice "... and I'm grateful for my body
back, but shall we say I have paid my dues?"
With a flap and a curl. Carpet made his way towards where Death poured over a
huge book that lay on an ancient plinth of stone. The shards on the surface of the
black rock seemed to move like galaxies turning in the heavens.
Carpet waited for The Grim Reaper to finish his task.

Then the faint music began behind the laid-flat Carpet and rearing up, he searched
for where it came from. It was like a Music-Box, something from long-ago that a child
may enjoy in a pink-papered bedroom.

Then the organ music struck up and Carpet couldn't help but think of sea-faring
Galleons that travelled using the wind, of salty air and the creak of taut rope.
Death turned slowly and closed the book with his bony hand.

"I concur with you -little one, your task has paid for your rejuvenation and our
accord is finished. You are free to return to The Yydryl" came the grave-low rattle
from the darkness beneath the hood.

The hem of the funeral-black robes rippled and hooked as Death stepped towards
the furry body that lay rug-like near the large doors and Carpet noticed that small
sparks ignited in the gloom of Death's wake.

"Do you know what a Time-Weave is...?" Death asked lightly, though to mortal ears,
it sounded like a gut-shot coyote calling to it's mate from a dank culvet near a forgotten
highway.
"... Do you know what such a thing can do?" he said in hushered tones of grave robbers.
The Organ tune played on and the atmosphere in the room became chillier as the seven
-foot figure descended on the quivering Carpet.

"It is a puzzle to me who could conjure up this event to take place, it leaves me profundicated"
Death chuckled and again, to a Twenty-First Century U-Man, the sound would be of a
poisoned babbling outlet-pipe from Toxic-Waste plant.
Carpet remained silent, he felt the smoldering anger swirling around The Host Of The Lost
and knew it would be prudent to be quiet.

"Ah yes, Milli-beings... do you know that when you were first created, I had serious doubts
of whether you could maintain a soul?" The void in the hood showed no features and yet,
Carpet -who's imagination wasn't the best, saw tear-stained faces of love-torn women
hanging from winter-ravaged trees and fly- buzzed wounds on lifeless bodies on an early
morning battlefield, he shivered and his nap rippled like a wave.

"It's true... I watched your 'birth' with interest and the idea of you and the fair-maiden
you enjoy accompanying, being classed as immortal -always brought a smile to my lips"
Carpet rose up slightly and attempted to show an interest.

The thought of the Master of Necrosis actually having lips brought another undulation
of his body as he imagined cinnamon-smelling tombs and dusty bandages.
A sigh escaped the tall being and something high up adjusted his roosting position to
possibly listen to Death's next words.

"And so we come to my request, my little friend. I have to ask you to one final boon"
The Last Eternal Messenger leaned closer to the now-quivering Carpet and a coldness that
belonged to the deepest of oceans fell on the Milli-being.

"I will require the Hag you know as Mucklebones to return to the planet that the Neo and his
cohorts are on... nothing more than that" Death said softly and the sound made Carpet think
of a sunken ship's hull being moved by a midnight tide.
A bony hand offered a small glass flute to the terrified Carpet and wrapping his body around
the gift, the rejuvenated Carpet mumbled a thank you.

"Give her that and she'll know what to do" the gravelled voice came again and then light
punctured the Milli-being's whole world as he felt himself in a warmer-kinder place.
"Carpet reporting to The Yydryl... I'm back" he croaked and the overwhelming relief
made him sob as he gazed around Cargo Hold XXI.

The glass instrument rolled under Carpet's body and as Ship remained silent and though
this puzzled him, he vowed to rid himself of Death's wish as soon as possible.

~*~ Mother Ship ~*~

‘What’re you doin’ out there?’ Muckles stomped her feet and banged on the side of the Sprint. ’Chumleyyyyy?’ Muckles hooted but Chumley didn’t answer. Silo’d left him in charge of refurbishing the Sprint and guarding her along with Sslar who took a menacing step towards the witch. Muckles sat back down on the crew seat unwilling to take on the Xang cat. Chumley was an easier target.

‘CHUMP! What the ‘ell you doing out there?’ Muckles stomped again furious at being ignored. Chumley poked his head in the door looking pleased with himself.

‘We be ready to go back to Neno and BIAD now. Sprint’s done.’ Chumley motioned to a working droid who tethered the little rig to an energy cable.

Muckles eyes gleamed and rolled in her head. Her poncho billowed with a foul stench that puffed from underneath. Sslar backed closer to the doorway and fresh air rolling back her lips in a silent hiss of disgust.

‘More where that came from kitty kitty!’ The witch cackled in glee opening and closing her skinny legs until her knees clacked together like dry sticks.

Chumley backed away from the Sprint an odd look blending the features of his into confusion. Sslar, her tail puffed to twice it’s size, her fur bristling in a ridge up her back lowered her head to floor before leaping off the Sprint landing heavily on the flight deck floor. Muckles, free to move about the Sprint unguarded immediately filed herself into the pilot chair and started pushing buttons and flipping switches.

‘What the hell are you two doing?’ Silo cried from half way across the flight deck before breaking into a run to join them. ‘I leave you alone for one minute and...’ Silo griped at Chumley until she saw Sslar pacing along side the door of the Sprint. If Sslar had abandoned her post it must be bad.

‘What‘s she done now?’ Silo asked but Chumley didn’t answer. Waving a hand in front of Chumley’s eyes Silo frowned when he didn’t so much as blink.

‘Gas...’ One word from the Xang cat whispered through her conscience like a thought of her own.

‘Gwark!’ Silo swore running behind the Sprint for a water hose. Turning it on full Silo leaned into the pressure bouncing on her feet against the thrust of water jetting from the three inch nozzle.

‘Time for a bath you old bit-ddy!’ Silo spat an old earth swear but it came out wrong as she ground her teeth fighting the strength of the hose. Sorry to douse the little rig but unwilling to play Muckles games Silo turned the full force of the water on the witch.

A full five minutes later and not until Muckles had quite swearing, screaming, and playing dead did Silo wave Chumley to cut the water. It had taken the Regalian nearly half that time to regain his senses.

‘Here, hold the hose, keep it close and give me your gun.’’ Silo leaned out the Sprint’s opening to exchange the water nozzle for Chumley’s pistol before advancing on the dripping Muckles.

‘I’m meltinggggg, I’m melt......’ Muckles spat and choked. So startled she almost dropped the pistol Silo watched in awe as it seemed Muckles truly was melting. Eons of time fell from the witch's craggy face and within moments her poncho was the only thing that reminded Silo of the hag. Waterlogged the ‘thing’ that huddled at the foot of the pilot's chair was nothing if not stunning. Long pale limbs, ivory legs and small feet. A body that would have filled out any dress in BIADS collection and then some. Her face and hair clean and shining both fawn brown and burnished like a chestnut warned by the sun.

‘Oooohhhh don’t you say it! Don’t you DARE!‘ Muckles screamed and snarled recognizing the look of admiration on Silo’s face. Revolted Muckles shivered in anger pulling her poncho close.

‘Get moving.’ Wary of tricks and not to be distracted Silo pointed Chumley’s pistol at Muckles who’s soft clear eyes went wide in a face so untouched by time her skin was smooth as a child's.

‘You wont shoot?’ Muckles croaked, her voice all that remained of the horrid creature she’d once been.

‘Yep, at the first excuse you give me, now get up. It’s time you complete your side of the bargain.‘ Silo waved the pistol tip like a baton.

‘What part of what bargain?‘ Muckles whined and crawled up the side of the chair to her feet.

‘The part where you cure the Yydryl and I don’t kill you.’ Silo stepped in front of the beautiful U-man looking Muckles and held out her hand. ‘And before I forget. Gimme that book of yours. Until the Yydryl is cured? It’s mine.’ Silo commanded.

Muckles hesitated in turning over the tome just long enough for Silo cock the pistol and press it against her exposed kneecap.

‘It wont kill you but it sure is gonna hurt some.’ Silo didn't smile, didn‘t blink, she only held out her hand.

Muckles gave in. The next instant the old tome slipped easily into the knife pouch Silo carried at her hip. Muckles wondered a moment if Silo realized what she’d just done.

Apparently not thought the beautiful hag and hid an evil smile as she did what she was told and followed Silo to the door of the Sprint.

The Yydryl's decor felt unusual to Mucklebones as she stepped from the Sprint
and into the Landing Bay. Droids scuttled about with equipment and ignored the
thin -but clean Crone Of The Canyons.
Her time on Carbiox had accustomed the Hag to more blunt-colours, earthy dyes
and weathered paint had be the norm on the 'old-world' planet.

The walls of the Bay seemed to promise warm colours, but since Ship's internal
struggle with the Zombies, the hue was faded, as if a disease wracked the Yydryl's
organic hull.

"We need to take care, Lassie... The Dark Lord works with a fever that would rival your
Ship's... and my man is in danger" Muckles said calmy over her shoulder. Silo13 smiled
at Mucklesbones' slender neck and answered "I know, and so we need to work together"
Her offer of a truce from the bickering to the 'newly-washed' crone maked the Gray in
front falter on her way to the smooth-green door of the elevator.

"Aye..." Muckles agreed with a sigh "... that ugly tyrant fares better with divided foes"
and stepped into the small room with the lilac-haired woman.
Silo and Muckles stood quietly together as the small room made it's way to the centre
of The Yydryl, The pistol was still available but hung easily at Silo's side.

Mucklebones ignored the weapon and yet, turned to face the younger female.

"Your liberal use of yon water..." the Gray's face had lost most of it's lines and the coal
-black eyes of Muckles indicated a genuine gentleness "... has revealed me in a different
light... may I I reveal more?" Muckles' voice still held a dry-sound, but the words were full
of honesty.
Silo took a single step to one side and looked into the Witch's questioning face.

"If you make a move to escape from your duties in healing Ship, I'll burn you down where
you stand" Silo said levelly and trained the gun at Mucklebones' midrift.
"I understand" came the answer with smooth tones and Muckles sucked in a deep breath.

It was the way the hair came out of her head -that caught Silo off guard initially, the long
Hell-red strands oozed from pores on the smooth skin without any interuption and as the
length increased, a smile from the Crone did too.

Passing shoulder-length, the tresses grew like scarlet-coloured roots and Silo had to admit,
it brought a beauty to the slim features of the Witch. The fringe slowed at the high brow and
Silo had pondered if those hairs would cover the Gray's eyes -imitating Boy In A Dress.
The burnished fibres stopped just above where eyebrows should be.

"And one more thing..." Mucklebones whispered softly and closed the large lids of those
dark-pool eyes and Silo leaned slightly forward.
"There!" Muckles announced quietly and showed two bright eyes that implied an
intelligence that had been hidden for too long, the lids lifted from the cool-blue
aquamarine orbs and Silo gasped at the grace that resided there.

The two females were still looking at each other as the elevator door swished open.
"SILO!" came Carpet's voice and caused the mauve-haired girl to swivel in a 'Gunslinger
-style' stance, the Crone was surprised at the swiftness of Silo's ability in bringing the
pistol to target.

The Mili-being leapt at the Core-being and together, they held a happiness for a few
moments. Muckles waited politely during the reunion.
"How... in Gwark's-name did you get here?" Silo asked as the cloth-like friend furled and
unfurled around her feet, Carpet seemed to glow with joy.

"I don't know... er, I just 'popped' in here!" he said as he saw the tall red-headed
alien beside Silo and stilled his actions, Carpet realised his task that Death had 'asked'
him -could be accomplished very soon.

"Hello... Mucklebo... Mucklebones, is that you?" he stuttered at the transformed Gray
standing in the far-too large poncho and Silo grinned at Carpet's surprise.
"Hello Carpet... do you have something you wish to give me?" the crone asked lightly and
crouched down to the smaller being.

Carpet thought that the passing of the glass flute would be more-secretive and confusion
made his coat turn from a purple contentedness to dull blue, "er... yes, it is from Death"
he said and was glad that the truth was out.

Silo's eyes narrowed for a few seconds as Carpet produced the object from his flat rippling
body and she gasped a little at the beauty of it.
"Yes... I know. The Crystal Flute... the instrument to close the Big Rip" Mucklebones said
softly and plucked the gift from Carpet's nap.
Silo showed a puzzled look at the slender see-through flute in the Witch's smooth-skinned
hand.

"If music be the food of the Gods, heh?" Muckles chided and glanced at the once-Tavern girl.

The Gurney-droid slowed with brake-slamming force as it approached the Recovery Bay doors. Lowering the wheels and releasing the airbrake at once, the noise issued resembled the explosion of a 20th Century U-Man mylar balloon.

Adam inhaled deeply and held in the breath, and Dag lifted her head from his chest and looked at him quizically and with more than a little concern. Understandably, she was a bit jumpy.

"Ah, no, did you smell youself?" she asked. "Awful, isn't it? Revolting."

Adam just grinned at her, his lips clamped shut. Dag reached for that mouth she adored so. "Adam? Does that mean your nostrils are functioning again?" He wagged his head no.

"Adam, you have to breathe! Are your lungs seized up? Collapsed?" She tried to insert a slender white fingertip into his mouth, but his lips didn't budge. Now she was rattled. "Adam!! We're here! We're here, hang on, just one more moment or so. Droid! What the -- I order you to get to those doors NOW!"

The Gurney-droid then began to limp like a wheel had broken and the gear began to grind and squeak. "Great," thought Dag, "we called a clunker." Impatient and now surging with bio-adrenaline, without thinking she slammed her hand down on Adam's chest in furious emphasis of her demand. "NOW, Droid!"

And Adam could hold it in no longer. He coughed, and a completely unexpected aroma filled the air.
"Ewww, what is THAT now?" badgered Dag. She couldn't believe that they were so close -- SO CLOSE!! -- and now it was all coming apart again. The Gurney-droid, Adam, the atmosph --

She launched herself off of the Gurney and spun to leap for the doors but Adam's hand grabbed her wrist. She whirled back to look at him, fleetingly thankful she had cut her hair into bangs so it didn't cover her face. "What!" She gasped.

The answer came out in the pitch of a U-Man toddler. "You just look so cute."

Dag's eyebrows twisted and nearly collided above her small nose. "What's wrong with your VOICE now?"

Adam then started to laugh. And in the same childlike tone said, "It's been such a long time since I smelled helium" -- and now his voice began to deepen again, which brought the corners of her purple lips down in frustrated disapproval and worry -- "and it's laced with nitrous oxide!" He chuckled.

This exertion having taken all of his strength, he let his eyes close and his grip on her relaxed to a soft caress, his thumb gently stroking the inside of her wrist. Still he smiled. "Dag," he said, his voice now normal. "It's only a temporary paralysis of the vocal chords, and a dose of synthetic joy. Nitrous oxide, you know."

Though Dag visibly relaxed, she was far from amused. "Oh, so NOW I'm getting to see the smart-alec side of you. What wonderful timing." She rolled her lovely eyes at him (for the first of what would prove to be many, many times throughout the eons....)

Adam huffed out the classic expiration of a U-Man when his woman has failed to react as expected (or hoped). "Whatever," he said. "Can't you lighten up a bit?"

Dag's eyes narrowed. "Yes, I can, after you no longer smell like a caDAVER!" She grabbed the corner of the Gurney closest to the Recovery Bay doors and yanked, hard (the only version of slamming a door available), and Adam could tell she was less than enchanted. Though she couldn't see him as she stalked down the passage, towing him and the limping Gurney, he rolled his own eyes. It had been a while since he'd had a relationship with a female. In a strange way, he'd really missed it.

Meanwhile, Dag mouthed without making a sound, "Men. Stupid pranks. And this piece of dung droid. I'll break it myself later." (In the future, both she and Adam would be very glad they had only one set of eyes each, as their respective tempers and masked responses would not have made for happily-ever-after, had they been seen by an unnoticed auxiliary pair.)

By the time she reached the airlock doors, though, she was smiling, and so was Adam. A sensation of hope and well-being swelled within both of their hearts. They were bonding on the next, of many, levels that lovers reach. She muttered, barely audibly, "If it's so much fun, maybe you should give up doctoring and become a Gurney-droid repai--"

Just then, the doors whooshed open, and the mood quickly changed. She would have to finish that suggestion later.

The huge doors that were always closed when Death had his so-called guests in
his company seemed to bulge slightly and if one looked closely, dark vein-like tendrils
slipped across it's surface.

"You've been busy lately... I can understand your lateness" the tall robed figure said
as he continued to focus on the large book.

Death knew the answer to who had implemented the Time-Weave resided in the ancient
pages before him, the calling of Kharon would not be distraction -but possible assistance.
The doors creaked open and the room's gloom fled as illumination from high flickering
flames brought light and heat to the barren place.

"You called and I answered" said the shrouded figure with the long staff, a mummified hand
held the pole away from Kharon's body out of habit. "The enigma still bothers you?" the tall
Boatman asked and stepped into Death's Library.

Kharon's attire was similar to Death's long ragged robes that told of hopelessness and loss,
the hood held a shadow-covered face of a thin-faced being that any of The FerryMan's
passengers would shudder and weep -when looking at him.

Kharon's eyes were his only attribute, they glowed with a dull lustre of strange stones in
intense heat and as he neared the Keeper-Of-The Damned, those eyes watched Death's
finger moving along the page.

"If the Time-Weave has occurred, then whoever called on it must be held accountable"
Kharon reminded and standing beside Death, his matched-height would make
whatever poor soul that dared to visit at the time, think of them as brothers.

"And you believe that I don not know that?" Death spat and turned the shadow-infested
hood to look at his partner, he hated being told the obvious.
"Forgive me brother, I mean that whoever cast this Weave could well be a danger to us
somewhere in the future" the FerryMan said softly and leaned to assist in scouring the
Book Of The Wretched.

A silence invaded the Library as both beings sought their quarry, the doors had closed again
and a grave-soil coldness had accompanied the quietness. Another page turned and then
another... the room waited like a Grey Owl waits for the solace of night.

Then the atmosphere changed and the gloom of the high shadows sneaked lower, although
the descending darkness seemed tinged with ared hue as Kharon and Death stared at the
scribed name that told of the treachery.

"So... our true enemy shows their face" Death whispered from the underneath of the hood
and turned to the Captain Of The Last voyage, "Who would have thought it?" he finished.
Kharon said nothing and also turned, but to return back to his task of ferrying souls to...

"A plan, Brother.... you need a plan..." Kharon tossed over his hunched shoulder, the staff
made a dull coffin-knocking thud everytime it touched the ground.
"... A wise one would seek counsel with Pandora, for this ascertainment needs delicate
handling" the gaunt figure finished and waited for Death's Doors to open.

The flames roared their eternal fury as again, light rolled in to conquer the darkness and
Kharon stepped back into oblivion. "Remember Death... we still know not of what we are
truly dealing with yet" came the FerryMan's faint advice and Death nodded to nobody in
agreement.

"Who would have thought it" Death hissed and tapped the shapely-scrawl of the name
CindyMarrs.

Both Adam and Dag had expected the Recovery Bay to be unoccupied. Neither had even considered that it might not be the safest place to go. Silo had directed them, and A.T.S. Silo was Ship's first mate. There was nothing to be debated or discussed or speculated or questioned. Any spaceship's A.T.S. was considered above reproach or gainsay.

And Dag KNEW Silo, knew her well. There was just too much history between them from back at LAB. They trusted one another implicitly, and had shown that trust well-deserved.

But enough excusing their faith in her leadership, despite the crisis – crisES – in which they both now floundered together, both were blindsided by what met them in the Bay.

Bits of long, scraggly fur, and sherds of enormous rodent's teeth swirled through the air in leisurely waltzes like autumn leaves on an Indian Summer's day. And the walls and equipment – everything from privacy curtains to light globes, gurneys to tentacles was spattered with a deep purple, viscous substance that dripped like molasses on the morning of that same Indian Summer's day. The air smelled of gunpowder and mold.

"Any suggestions as to what happened in there, Adam?" Dag asked quietly. She had not yet pulled the Gurney and him through the doors, and sensing no one and nothing had passed through, the doors whished shut again.
Dag's and Adam's gazes locked tight. After a pause in which Dag's eyebrows raised pleadingly, Adam said, "Trouble?" Dag sighed. "But it appears to have come and gone, and you have to get me in there, there are no alternatives. We'll just have to try to work with what we've got."

Dag looked at the Chief Medical Officer and wanted to protest, but he was still in charge of his own condition, and his word was the last. She touched the doors and they whished open again.

And there stood President Bransom

Smiling her hideous smile, sporting new implanted teeth that glowed a sickly apple-green, she stepped out into the hallway. "You are both under arrest for treason, and condemned to execution," she said. "Guards!"

Her shapeless hulk blocked from view what was going on inside, but Dag and Adam heard footfalls in various weights and materials. Some boots, some tap shoes, some flip-flops, some clacking high heels and a few clopetty-clop clogs.
Adam spoke first. "Well, President, I see you have hunted us down in your usual skillful manner and with much success. Please allow us to surrender, and deliver ourselves unto your award-winning guard unit."

Branson at first looked at him with suspicion, worrying her bottom lip teeth-consciously. Her crusty, oozing eyelids narrowed and as she considered this suggestion her sausage fingers drew little circles in the air – a sure sign of her stress. It was something Adam had noticed about her in his first days as Doctor; having been trained to identify all such tics and unconscious movements, he knew he almost had her.

"And I admire your choice of mumu today. Well done, you, Madam President. An all-round job very well done."
If she had looked directly into his eyes, well….but she had not, and in any case, Adam wasn't certain his own skills were healed enough to have allowed him to read her intentions. But he could not think of anything else to say.

For several long moments, then, time seemed to stop, and no one moved. Behind Branson someone coughed. Someone else hawked up a gob of something unspeakable and spit. The effluvium hit the floor with a smack and bounced up onto Bransom's ankle and she whipped around to assail the offending "guard."

As she spun, their line of vision was momentarily open and Dag and Adam saw her recruits. Zombies. Dozens of them. But he-who-had-spit was no zombie, and was the object of Bransom's ire: Ernie.

"Shoot him!" she bellowed at the others who stood behind him. "He has contaminated my surface, and he is standing too close. Shoot him! Get him OUT of my bubble!" And she whirled round with her wobbly arm-flesh swinging and bobbing with the motion."

No one moved. "I said SHOOT HIM!" she bellered. One of the Zombies raised its arm-stump. "No ammo, Mam," it clacked through ragged jaws.

Then she shouted, "Gimme that gun!" and lunged for Ernie, who jumped back, bringing her out of the doorway, and as she did so Dag dove to the floor and grabbed her hem. Bransom toppled onto Ernie, and the shotgun clattered across the littered bespattered floor of the Recovery Bay.

Dag slid past the downed presidential lard just as one of the zombies leaned down, and she flipped herself up to her full height, whirled around and kicked its rib cage with enough force to break it into pieces, and then grabbed the shotgun and whirled toward Bransom.

"Let him through the doorway," Dag said. She looked at Ernie, who stood with utter confusion pasted on his face. "Get him and that bed into this chamber at once, or I will blow your head off, and THEN hers. Understood?"

For a time that seemed interminable, they all simply looked at one another. Dag pulled back the action on the shotgun (again, after first releasing it and hoping for the best, for effect). Ernie nodded and started to move toward the Gurney-droid.

A warbling voice interrupted: "The whispers in the morning…."

Violins began plucking harmonically from behind the scenes. "…of lovers sleeeepin' tight"

Everyone's eyes (if they existed) looked about curiously. "…are rolling by like thunder now…." A couple of the zombies exchanged intimate glances, and dashed into one another's arms to begin swaying as Bransom continued "…as I look in your eyes….." Ernie reached down to help Bransom up…Dag and Adam locked gazes….her's accusing, his 'whateverish'.

Adam interrupted. "STOP THAT!!! What ARE you doing, President, Madam?"

Bransom rolled over onto her back and lifted her arms above her head…."I hold onto your bodyyyy….and feel each move you make….you voice is warm nd ten—"
"STOP," Adam commanded.
The room grew silent. Adam got up from his bed and strode into the Bay on his own legs. But the violins resumed.

"---der.." Bransom crooned. "A love that I could... not forsake….."cuz I'm your ladyyyyyy—"

"SHUT YOUR BLOODY CAKE-HOLE, GREENTEETH!" Adam roared.

"SHUT YOUR BLOODY CAKE-HOLE, GREENTEETH!" Adam roared.

That shout broke the spell into a million tiny pieces of stunned silence. Ernie recoiled from Bransom as if from a viper - which she more or less was, but in human skin - and turned back towards the shotgun wielding lassie, raising his arms to shoulder level in apparent submission.

Ernie squinted his left eye and bugged out the right one, looking momentarily from Dag to Adam as Bransom and the zombie mini-horde behind her looked on with bated breath, watching the scene which had suddenly changed and become mesmerizingly entertaining.

Well, it really doesn't take much to entertain zombies, which are pretty much pre-mesmerized.

"Lemme get this straight, Missy. You want ME to put an obvious zombie into that there contraption that is pre-filled with road kill? Have you lost yer mind, then?"

Dag didn't utter a word, merely nodding her head and keeping the shotgun muzzle unwaveringly trained on his head.

Trying to buy time, Ernie said "That nod didn't help much, Missy. Are you sayin' that's what you really want me to do, or are you sayin' ye've lost yer ever-lovin' mind? Or is it both, as is most likely? By the by, I could think a lot better without havin' to stare down the maw of that there cannon..." As he spoke, Ernie was gradually edging closer to Dag, but kept his arms raised to shoulder height in submission to the shotgun.

"Put - him - in - the - chamber" Dag hissed through clenched teeth.

Ernie, edging still closer, clenched his own teeth and hissed right back "Git that cannon offa muh head, then."

"Not a chance, and you're wasting time you don't have to waste." Dag hissed right back, without even blinking.

Ernie, judging that he had edged within striking distance using his wall-eyes, suddenly spun counterclockwise, striking the muzzle end of the shotgun with his upraised forearm, flipped the forearm down as soon as the muzzle cleared him and grabbed the shotgun with both hands, spinning it from her grip and continuing the spin unchecked, shot the nearest zombie in Bransom's zombie mini-horde.

"I never liked them things" Ernie commented "and you want me to put one to bed an' tuck 'im in?"

Dag, stunned at the turn of events, stuttered but quickly recovered. "B... but... Adamsnotazombie!" she whooshed out, all in one breath. Composing herself, an idea struck her. Ernie didn't like zombies - but who does? No matter. She could work with that, "He's not a zombie right now - he's sick, and he's dying, but he'll be a zombie soon if YOU DON'T GET HIM INTO THAT CHAMBER! That will be on YOUR head, mister!"

Ernie looked dubious. "Sure looks and smells like a zombie to me." he commented.

In a thin, papery whisper, Adam chimed in. "I'm not a zombie. Zombies are dead, but still Have an appetite, you know. You'll notice I'm not biting at your head. I'm not able to eat any brains, nor do I have any such desire" he said. Catching on to Dag's plan, he added "...yet".

That made Ernie's mind up for him. Slinging the shotgun over his shoulder upside down, he held his breath and transferred Adam into the rejuvenation chamber. "You might want to clear out the roadkill afore ye start fixin' zombies in that contraption" he mumbled.

"He's NOT a zombie!" Dag exclaimed, then asked "What's 'roadkill'?" Ernie's answer was interrupted by Bransom commenting "That arrogant hillbilly reminds me of that spineless nenothtu leech!" she spat out. "Kill him, NOW!" she ordered the zombies.

The zombies seemed reluctant as Ernie snapped his head around at the name 'nenothtu'. "Who did you say?"

Dag's eyes widened slightly as she was peeling bits of the former Deez from the inside of the rejuvenation chamber. "You've heard of him then? Were you in the UEF military?"

"Naw" Ernie replied. "I knowed a scrawny-assed kid a long time ago and a long ways away that was called that just afore he left Vandalia. Got the name from wiping out an entire Clan called the Taggarts in a revenge sweep - we both had differnt names back then, afore that li'l episode. Then he skyed right outta there an' no one ever heard from him agin. He was a mean little bastard right there at the end. I figgered he got hisself killed somewheres bitin' off more'n he could chew. Didn't know he was still around. Good on him!"

If Dag didn't know better, she could have sworn she saw Ernie's chest swell with pride.

Bransom spoke up at that point with venom. "yes, he's a Vandal, the filthy creatures! Since you seem to be one too, you can BOTH rot in hell! he'll be joining you shortly, as soon as I can find him!"

"I reckon not" Ernie replied. "Genocide of a whole race is an ugly thing, even if that race is Vandals. Yer days of pissin' an' moanin' and annoyin' folks are done. You've done annoyed the wrong one." He said evenly. Snapping up the shotgun, Ernie twitched it's trigger,and parts of Bransom's head suddenly decorated the bulkhead behind her as her corpulent corpse collapsed to the floor like a marionette with it's strings cut. The zombies, all eight or so of them, suddenly started milling around, moaning, and searching for fresh brains, as zombies are wont to do when no longer under the control of an evil mistress.

The brain-splattered wall drew their immediate attention, an easier meal than having to gnaw through the skulls of the living, and they gathered 'round, ignoring the people in the room. Ernie took the opportunity to make short work of them.

He only had to reload the shotgun's magazine tube once.

Dag, wide eyed at the carnage, but especially shocked at the fact that Bransom was no longer, said to Ernie's back as he lit one of Cim's Cuban stogies while surveying his handiwork "You've done it now! They'll NEVER let you live after you've killed President Bransom!"

Ernie turned, a bemused look on his face. "President Bransom, you say? I always wondered who killed her dumb ass off. Historians never found out who it was, an' the history books all log it in as one of the mysteries of the universe. How 'bout that? There's speculation in the future that it was a cabal within her own intelligence service, an' here it was just little old me! Don't worry 'bout it. The UEF never really was after the Earth got all blowed up. Bransom was a poser with a reign of terror they still scare kids with at bedtime. She ain't really nothin'. Wasn't really nothin' " he corrected himself.

"History books?" Dag queried.

"Yeah, I ain't from around here." was Ernie's cryptic reply. "I reckon I ought to get these husks ready fer burnin' " he said, and went to work at that task.

~*~ Chumley goes Hunting ~*~

‘Carpet, you here?’ Chumley hooted softly through flabby lips and waited for a response. A ripple of movement, change of color, something to signify his friend was back aboard the hallways of the Yydryl and all was well.

‘Carpet?’ The Regalian called again his voice soft and high for such a huge being. Maybe it was the size of his stomach displacing his lungs into barely functioning organs or maybe he just couldn’t get enough breath past the choking lump of motion caught in his throat.

‘Awww, you were da good lil’ fella. I sorry we don’t get back in time for ya.’ Chumley slumped to the floor and ran his tentacle tips through the gnarly nap of rug that felt so lifeless and just lay there. Chumley’s eyes squeezed shut, he let his head rest back on the door to the Armory. He didn’t want to think of Carpet forever stuck in Adam.

‘We had dem good times you an me.’ Chumley hiccupped and gave a small laugh, ‘I ‘member when you made dem fart noises under Bransom!’ Chumley recalled Carpet’s incessant teasing of the Federation President and her reaction. ‘We all laugh so hard! Every time she take a dem step Carpet says ‘Frrrt, frrrrt fffffrrrrrrrrrrt’!’ Chumley squeezed his eyes shut tighter and laughed a little louder.

‘An dat time I pour wine all over you an you gets so mad but you gets all drunk and den you starts to sing an you tell me to call you Mat!’ Chumley laughed even louder this time his tentacles going to his belly to hold himself in.

‘And den!,‘ The Regalian could barely breath, ‘When dat cat a CindyMar’s use my lil’buddy for butt rug an goes scootin’ his ol’ one-eye all over you pullin’ hiself around with dem front paws’! Ahhhhhh ha ha ha haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa ha ha!’ Chumley's laugh full blown and hearty echoed up and down the corridors of the Yydryl.

‘So that‘s how you were going to remember me is it? A rump cleaner for Ms. Mars cat?’ A voice called from under Chumley. A voice he knew. It was weak, but there.

‘Carpet!’ Chumley froze in mid roll. ‘Is dat you lil’buddy?’ Chumley gently poked the floor. The floor poked back.

‘CARPET!’ Chumley lay spread flat doing his best to gather up the fibers that clutched and rolled him in Carpet’s best hug. Carpet indulged to the count of three, laughed, and changed his fibers into a floor spiked with nails. Sharp nails. Chumley yelped, sprang (as only a one ton Regalian can do) to his feet and howled again.

‘Ohhhh Carpet! New trick dat! Where you get dat one?’ Chumley stood on one foot an obese ballerina testing the rug with his opposite toe. Difficult to do with Regalian feet.

‘I got a whole new bag a tricks Chum.‘ Carpet laughed a little stronger this time.

‘I glad you back. I don’t like you livin’ in Adam.’

‘Me either buddy.’ Carpet relaxed but still stood at attention. ‘Now Chum, tell me if you can operate Deson’s monitor?’ Carpet’s ‘all business’ tone changed the mood. It didn’t take long for Chumley to catch up.

‘I do anything Deson do. Not better - but I can do.’ Sobering Chumley waved his tentacle before the Armory door and stepped in.

‘I hope you’re right Chum. I think we got trouble.’

~*~ Cont. ~*~

~*~ Goo ~*~

‘Zoom in on the Recovery Bay, there was a lot of commotion coming from inside.’ Carpet waited impatiently at the door to the Armory. The Recovery Bay and the Armory - the two places Carpet needed to go the most just happened to be two of the few places he couldn‘t go on Ship.

Chumley mumbled instructions to himself under his breath while manipulating the controls on Deson’s work bench connected to a complex monitoring system that kept the Armor in visual touch with all places in Ship Proper at all times.

‘Ohhhhhh...’ Chumley’s eyes went wide.

‘What? Tell me what you‘re seeing!‘ From the floor in the corridor Carpet couldn’t see the monitor.

‘Dead U-Mans wakin‘ ‘round. I see some dat look like da old crew...’ Chumley stopped when Carpet shouted.

‘DEAD? Walking around?‘ Carpet’s fibers stood on end.

‘I see Adam. Ya know he don’t look so good Carpet.’ Chumley’s face fell in concern.

‘Forget Adam and Dag, tell me about the dead U-Mans!’

‘Ohhhh! Der’s a U-Man with a gun! He not dead. He take shotgun from Dag. He good!’ Chumley cooed his eyes all for the U-Man who’d just disarmed Dag.

‘A U-Man? Who?’ Carpet seethed with frustration his knap flattening like angry eyes.

‘He da man who gave CindyMars dat cat. The one who scoot his...’

‘STOP with the CAT! Who is he?’

‘He a friend of Ms. Mars.‘ Chumley's tentacles flew to his mouth. ‘Oh Carpet! Dat friend a Ms. Mars with dat gun? He just shoot President Bransom. She dead all over da place in dere...’ Chumley turned pea green with nausea.

‘President BRANSOM?’ Carpet bellowed incredulous. ‘That gig’s in there too?’ Carpet threw up his fibers in frustration.

‘Yeah, she all over da walls.‘ Chumley gagged. ‘Dat U-Man shoot Bransom right in da ‘ed.’ Chumley turned even paler. ‘Ohhhhh Carpet! Dose dead U-Mans! Dey eating Bransom off da wall, off da floor. Eatin‘ her goo. Dey...lick it!’ Chumley hunched over Deson's garbage disposal unit and dry heaved.

Carpet swore. ‘Chumley - go and get a ‘Harry’! Pack it with some big guns, ammo...and a flame thrower.’ The only ’dead’ U-Mans Carpet knew who walked around and ate ‘goo’? Were zombies. ’Meet me at the Recovery Bay! Now Go - go go go!’

Chumley didn’t ask questions, he acted. ‘Harrys’ were his favorite vehicles on Shipt. Deson designed hover crafts that traveled just as easily though Ship’s corridors as they did over the rough terrain in Ship’s Center. The best part? They were fast. Real fast. The guns and flame throwers? All icing on Chumley's cake.

Mucklebones felt the glamour that she had placed on herself itching to come back,
for far-too long, she had hidden as an ancient Gray and wondered if her true-self hadn't
been lost along the way.

The feel of her long red hair on her shoulders brought the occasional shiver as if Tibbs
was touching her again. 'He knew' she thought... he always knew.

"Through this door lies the Yydryl's Centre... and I hope you can heal her" Silo said from
behind the Witch-that-was and placed a hand on a small touch-pad next to the entrance.
"The Lady is in pain... ah' can feel it" Muckles responded and stepped into the room that
held Ship's Centre.

The light that emanated from the membrane-like walls flickered with a feverish pace, pinks
turned to purples and then courses of grey slipped across the smooth skin-surfaces.
The space seemed to go on forever and Silo thought that the swirling, changing hues would
be similar to being trapped inside a thundercloud.

Then the deep sounds of knocking shook through the room and once, a large thump of -what
sounded like a struggling heartbeat vibrated the very air around them.
"Take care girl... she's got poison in 'er system" Muckles warned.

The huge cracked orb that rotated slowly in the centre of the vast space made the Crone
sneer to herself as she realised this was the heart of the foul-infestation.
The scab-brown ball creaked in it's turning.

"Please... let me walk alone?" the flame-haired alien asked and looked straight at Silo,
her eyes showed a genuine concern for her task. Silo nodded and stepped back to satnd
near the doorway.

The bag of bones appeared from beneath the dull-green poncho again and Mucklebones
rummaged in the small sack for a few moments before stepping closer to the ruined ball.

Then the Rune-Casting began.
Four pentagons were scrawled on the feature-less floor around the turning sphere and Silo
saw that the Witch Of The Winds used a small piece of burnt wood... willow -she guessed.
Then figures were written on each point of the first shape, the child-like scrawl reminded the
lilac-haired girl of cave-drawings she had read about -painted from Earth's long-dead past.

"Shuva Ret" hissed Muckles as she finished one diagram and then went to the next pentagon.
Silo stretched he neck to see what the drawing showed and frowned at the poor rendering
of bipeds copulating.

The next set of shapes showed Dragons and flying beasts with hooked claws and gaping
mouths, the thin Gray waved a hand over these and commented "Ghosts... just Ghosts"
With knees clicking, she rose again and began her artistry once more.

More carbon marks danced across the smooth surface as she scratched the wood along, apes
with idiot grins and Giants with their arms in the air -told of a meeting, a moment that may
have changed the U-man's history, Silo guessed the tall stick-figures were Culs.

Muckles looked at her most-recent work for a few moments before moving on and Silo
couldn't help herself, so asked "something wrong?"
The Hades-hair flicked back to reveal the beautiful aqua eyes -as Muckles came out of
wool-gathering, "we've missed something... Aye, we missed it" she said softly and Silo
noticed the 'old-twang' coming back into the Crone's tone.

The next five-sided shape held wars and death, Muckles spat twice at each drawing and
began the final geometry.

Perhaps it would be pudent not to describe what she scratched onto the floor at this point,
Silo saw and was shocked by the vileness of the display. Muckles could be heard sobbing
softly as she brought the drawings forth and all the time, the colours in the room seemed
to run faster and faster.

Finally, the Witch stood erect and wiping tears from her face, she stepped over to where her
guide had waited patiently.
"Lassie, there's something I have to do... something that may cause you offense, so I ask
you to turn away... please" the Gray said in a kindly manner, Silo showed a puzzled
expression and looked away towards the strange markings.

"What... what is it you have to do?" she said huskily.

(Continued)

Mucklebones tilted her head in a way that reminded Silo of Boy In A Dress and whispered
"I have to defile certain signs... ah' have to insult the demons that wrack the very soul of yon
Yydryl" the words smacked of determination and anger.

Silo sucked in a deep breath and without a word, she turned her back on the skinny Witch in
the green poncho. "Thank you" was all she heard -except for the bare-feet of Muckles
walking back to the Rune markings.

She was urinating -Silo guessed and as the coughing and wretching began, the lavender-
haired Self Integrating Life Organism realised Muckles was also vomiting onto her drawings.
"Come on out yer' bastards!" a voice croaked from behind Silo and a sudden need to turn
around beckoned with haste, nibbling her bottom lip, she gave in.

Muckles was naked and lay under the rotating sphere, her hips bucked and her long fingers
clentched as she cursed and hissed.

"Take me, leave this dull thing and have yer' way wiv' old Muckles" she screamed and thrust
her body up with an alarming speed. Silo's mouth dropped open at the sight in front of her,
the pelvic movements became more pronounced and Mucklebones had also began sliding
her right hand across her sagging breasts.

"COME ON YER' BUGGERS... OR ARE YER' SCARED?!" the Witch screamed with laughter
and then, the globe stopped turning. The dark-rainbow colours bleached away and the room's
temperature seemed to drop suddenly.

Silo hit the door-release and fled from the Centre, there were shapes appearing... shapes
that hunkered near Muckles, shapes that were hunched and mishapen, figures that showed a
musk-smelly ardour.
She fled.

What happened behind that door we will never know, Silo could hear the poor creature
inside screaming with pain and at other times singing songs. It was the grunting that made
Silo shiver has she waited outside the Centre... that grunting was male, that grunting was
definitely male -she thought and felt her mouth dry with nervousness.

Then the door slipped open and Silo -with knife drawn, stepped back and readied herself.
"Your Ship will be... how do you say? ...back on-line in a moment" Muckles said primly and
collapsed into Silo's arms, the weight felt like a bag of Autumn leaves as Silo placed an arm
under her knees and behind the Witch's back and carried her from the doorway.
The sound of it closing was welcoming.

"The Yydryl is now back online" Welcome back Silo13" Ship reported and it seemed like a
steady thrumming could be felt under Silo's feet. "Thank Jenovah!" shouted Silo with her
head tilted upwards.

A weak hand squeezed a sign that all would be well from Muckles and Silo looked down at
the exhausted Witch in her arms. "... And thank Mucklebones too" Silo whispered with a
smile at the now -snoring Crone.

Ernie and Dag stood staring at each other and Adam hobbled over to the chamber himself. He picked a piece of Bransom's ... something... out of his hair (which came with it), and like a little girl who found a bug there flung it across the room.

"Ewww!" he screeched. Dag and Ernie turned slowly toward him, both mouths agape. To Ernie, Adam said, "Look, um, Mister...whoever-you-are, thanks for your help, but I really need to get some treatment going here, or I'm ....."

Ernie held up one palm toward Adam's face. "Jess one sec there, big fella." He scowled and scratched his ear as he chewed the inside of his cheek for a second, looking Adam up and down. Then he turned to Dag.

"So," he said to her in a low voice, keeping his eye on Adam and not moving his lips any more than necessary, "You sayin' you ain't wantin' this one on that there pile with them others? Cuz, I kin doer, missy. Ain't no trouble 'tall." He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "He don't seem so much a prize to me, little lady."

Dag's gaze shot back to Ernie. "No! No, no. Really, I know he SEEMS like a -- whatever those vile things are -- but, no, his circumstances, his injuries...it's not the same."

Ernie tucked his lips sideways and lowered his eyelids. "Right." He winked at her, waiting for a signal that she was rusing. "Cuz, I gots plenty a ammo here." He patted his pocket. "And he sure ain't goin' nowers."

"No, really!" Dag said.

Ernie surveyed the chamber Adam was approaching. "Well that whooziewhatsit don't look to ME like much help." Ernie had been dealing with homeowners long enough to know when a woman was masquerading as fine when actually in peril. "You sure, there, Missy? Look, I gots a screwdriver and wrench, but I ain't thinkin' thems gonna be fixin that contraption." He paused. "An' it's shore as shootin' broke."

The Yydryl suddenly began to vibrate, and the floor beneath all of them rocked gently. The lights glowed brighter, and Ship's voice joined the conference. "Adam, get in the chamber, please, you needn't disrobe," said Ship.

Adam, who had been struggling with his shoes and socks, huffed a sigh of relief. He picked up one of his fingers from the floor and held it to the stump forlornly.

"We'll have that fixed in no time, Doctor. Please lie down," said Ship. "Dag. I'll see to the clean up but don't be concerned, I've already decontaminated and sterilized the area and all inanimate tissues remaining in the room. Adam should be fine, but he must begin immediately."

The chamber began to make a whirring noise, and the lights beneath it came on and changed from a dull burgundy to a red-orange shade. Ship continued, "Doctor, the settings are precise for your particular aura and needs."

Dag sighed and her shoulders visibly relaxed. "There," she said to Ernie. "See? Ship will take it from here."

But Ernie was looking around him, for the source of these reassuring announcements. His brows could not have been more contracted than they were, and he was waving the shotgun at the walls and floor trying to pinpoint where it was coming from.

Dag chuckled, and Ernie looked at her irritably. "What?" he said. "Look, lady, I ain't been here afore, but I shore as ... turd..wadn't just dumped outta no turnip truck, neether." He looked at Adam. "And your hero, here? He don't look so ready to fix what ails ya, neether. Sonagod I shoulda told Ms Mars to ...."

Just then the doors whooshed open to show a Harry hovering outside. Chumley's grin was so big it made his tentacles touch, crossing his eyes.

~*~ Debts ~*~

‘Where’re you taking me?’ Muckle’s voice had softened with exhaustion all malice and scorn vanished. ‘To my quarters’ Silo answer evenly looking down into Muckles face tucked just under her chin against her chest, her once lipid blue eyes gone dull. Silo wasn’t sure if the faint lifting at the corners of Muckles mouth was real or imagined.

It was nigh impossible for Silo to relate this Muckles the one laying quiet and docile in her arms to the gig-flashing hell-raising witch she’d first met but beautiful and gentled or no the being she carried though the halls of Ship still made her feel oily, reminding her what took place behind the doors of the Center something Silo didn't want to think about ever again. She prayed time would vanish the scenes of devil-play from her memory, blot the grunts and screams, wipe away the sickeningly sweet musky tasting stench and...smells. Silo bit her lip wanting to cry. She wanted to drop Muckles and abandon her right there in the corridor, the very thing she must not do.

‘Yes, I’m taking you to my apartments.’ Silo reiterated gritting her teeth. Silo'd made the decision the moment Muckles fainted landing in her arms outside the Center. There’d been no question then, no second thoughts. She’d install Muckles in her own quarters caring for her there. The ‘witch’ deserved everything and more they could do for her, she’d healed Ship at the expense of her own life after all and if helping her in return meant opening Silo’s own rooms, bed and her hygienic station to the crone, so be it. She owed Muckles a quelling debt - one she was already finding hard to repay.

‘I need...my...tome.’ Muckles voice caught in pain falling to a bare whisper. ‘Give...it...back...’ Her eyelids fluttered closed again, her mouth hung half open in another faint.

‘We’re almost there, just one minute.’ Silo said struggling the last few steps. Light as Muckles was Silo’s arms had begun to ache under the creatures weight. It was no little relief when Silo finally lay Muckles down.

‘...Cold...’ Muckles shivered on the center of the bed that dwarfed the frail creature. Silo quickly covered her with a thick white bio-blanket watching until her shivering stilled then stopped.

‘You should be fine now, I‘ve called for some food and even some new clothes.’ The day that poncho went into the garbage inferno would be a good one. ‘If you need anything at all just ask. I’m going to go check on Adam and Dag. See how Carpet‘s doing. Soooo, if there‘s anything I can get you...’ Silo stopped babbling to cover the quiet. Muckles had gone too still. The air settled with dread around Silo’s shoulders.

‘Muckles?‘ Silo called and when she didn’t reply, didn’t move, didn’t seem to be breathing the hair rose on the back of Silo’s neck. Hesitating she reached out her fingers but didn’t touch more than the soft corner of the blanket all but hiding the witch from view. ‘Hey...you alright?‘ Silo withdrew her hand. She couldn’t make herself touch Muckles and backed rapidly from the bed almost colliding with a working droid.

‘Silo! Watch out!‘ A cry rose from behind, Silo spun in place her hand falling to her knife the blade flashing dully.

‘Skinny’ one of Silo’s favorite bio-droids slid neatly sideways nearly dropping a tray covered with dishes of food, water, wine and neatly folded clothes. ‘I’m sorry Mam but your alert system is out.’ Skinny’s eyes pleaded for understanding.

‘What?’ Silo blinked and shook her head slowly, heavily, confused. The droids arrival had broken the spell of alarm.

‘The buzzer to your door Mam. I’ve been ringing it now for a good quarter hour.’ Skinny replied as he went about arranging the foodstuff on a table next to the bed.

‘Thank you Skinny.‘ Silo rubbed her temples with fingers and thumb her hand cupped over her eyes. ‘Would you mind staying here and keeping and eye on my...friend a while? I‘ve got something...to do. Silo finished lamely. Skinny simply nod and smiled. ‘And give her this when she wakes up please.’ Silo pulled Muckles tome from her knife pouch handing it to the droid who settled into a chair by the bed that held the preternaturally still creature curled in the middle like an egg in the center of a puffy white nest.

‘Will do Mam. Anything else?‘ Skinny’s pale bio-vinyl face crumpled in what passed for concern. Silo didn’t seem to be herself.

‘No, thank you Skinny, really, I’m just...a little tired.‘ She’d been tempted to take a drought of wine but eying the bed and the lump in the middle made her gorge rise.

‘We’re all so pleased Ship is....better. It’s a good thing...isn‘t it Silo...’ Skinny’s normally pleasant smile sat crookedly a bloody slash across his face, his thumb rubbing small circles over Muckles tome kept time with the rise and fall of one of his dark brows from where he sat patiently at the foot of her bed.

‘Yes, yes it is.’ Silo looked on in terror. She had to get out of there. ‘If you need me I should be at the Recovery Bay.‘ She cried and fled.

Silo ran through her door turning back once more to Skinny who‘s features had returned to normal, if they had ever changed, his thumb stilled, if it had ever been in motion. The droid waved once before the door to her quarters shut away the sight of him sitting there in her room, waiting.

Shaking off the thrill of dread Silo trotted down the corridor feeling better with each step she left Muckles behind her knife still clutched firmly in her hand.