The Voyages of the Penelope and the Yydryl

* ~ * Back on Ship * ~ *

‘You two girls ever going to get that thing finished?’ Pip smirked from where he leaned against the control panel munching on a piece of bread idling time watching Jeni and Moriah put the finishing touches to the newest of Moriah’s projects, the Deson Transporter.

‘Just shut your big fat pie hole Pip.’ Moriah snarled. She despised the boy and didn’t hesitate to make her feelings clear.

‘Moriah,‘ Jeni warned, then turning to Pip, ‘Don’t you have something to do? Somewhere to go?‘ She smiled sweetly. The only movement Pip made was to raise his middle finger in her direction quickly covering the movement with the piece of bread.

‘Coward’ Jeni thought turning herself turning back to Moriah.

‘Sweetie, we’re never going to get anywhere near finished if you keep on fighting with him. Just ignore the idiot.’ Jeni whispered holding the last panel in place to the upright coffin shaped box.

It was the word ‘ignore’ more than ’idiot’ that pushed the wrong buttons in Pip. The bread forgotten his fists balled at his sides his face reddened.

Neither Jeni nor Moriah felt the deadly change in the air.

‘Doesn’t matter, we’re almost through.’ Moriah mumbled around the tip of her tongue protruding from the corner of her mouth. ‘And if Deson’s plans work like all the other ones? All our problems are solved.’ Moriah stepped back to examine the transporter, checked the instructions and wondered if she’d done right by starting small. Her reasoning were sound, ‘start small’ then if and when it worked properly they’d make a second and larger transporter. Large enough to hold a few beings at a time. Goods and machines. Maybe even vehicles and...

‘You’re dreaming again.’ Jeni smiled watching Moriah’s eyes go vague. She admired her little sister’s drive and would have gone far to help her succeed - especially when most of the time whatever Moriah put her mind to worked. After finding a treasure trove of plans and diaries belonging to Deson, the Ship’s Late Armor and Inventor it was all Jeni could do to get Moriah to eat and sleep. When she wasn’t? She was working on another one of Deson’s plans. The Ship to ground transporter was her greatest project to date. Jeni hoped for all their sakes the thing worked.

‘Now if I can just set the holding bands in place that should be it!’ Moriah squeaked with the joy of near accomplishment. ‘Jeni, get inside and put your shoulder to the door. When I say let go - release the bands and I‘ll wrench them tight.’ Scooting to the side Moriah waited for Jeni to take her place inside the softly glowing machine.

‘Well, what are you waiting for!’ Moriah squeaked again smiling her dazzling smile her blue eyes dancing.

Jeni climbed into the coffin like silver box her eyes narrowing with worry. She didn’t like tight places much less ones she has to squeeze into.

‘Don’t be paranoid silly, we’re not even hooked up yet.’ Moriah went back to adjusting the shining silver bands fitting them into the remade grooves.

From behind the transporter Pip connected the fat gray cable to the energy source waiting and watching at the control panel for the lights to flicker then glow to life. Moriah had already programmed the coordinated for the planet below ready for their first test subject - a working droid waiting patiently in the corner.

‘Ok Jeni I’m going to close the door just a bit and when I say...’

Ship’s shuddered, her lights dimmed, the air stilled, time held still.


A blinding light and shock of energy exploding from the machine slammed Moriah into the far wall meters away. The transporter with the door slightly ajar pulsed and grew, the light intensified, showering a rainbow of colors, imploded back to white then all was silent. The stink of burning metal, wires and air filled the room.

Moriah groaned weakly from the corner then groaned no more.

The transporter, what was left of it - was empty.

Pip? Pip was gone.

* ~ * Dreams Come True? * ~ *

Silo breathed easier, her mind soared...searching.

Tibbs, unchained from time and space reached out to find her once again.

‘You can hear me Silo. Pay attention to ol’Tibbs.’ The warm voice reached her there in the dark.

Tibbs mumbled a spell under his breath. Silo focused.

‘Tibbs?’ She asked the dark.

‘That’s right. It’s your old friend Tibbs Silo-girl.’ Tibbs chuckled. ’You’re healing. Mag’s potions are wondrous and potent but it’s come time you wake now. There’s a lot in store for you old thing.‘ He waited before continuing. ‘Argus and Flint are waiting, worried. You stick with them. You hear me?’

Tibbs mumbled another spell.

‘Yes. I hear you.’ Silo stirred leaving Tibbs to wait patiently for her to gather her thoughts. He didn’t have to be a wizard to know what they were.

‘Tibbs, we...we’ve done this before...In a dream.‘ It wasn’t a question.

‘Yes, that we did.‘ The old wizard agreed simply.

‘And...Argus and Flint...they‘re just dreams. Aren't‘ they?’ Silo rotated in the fur blanket like a moth struggling to escape it’s cocoon.

‘Ahh that Flint. He’s a good lad.’ Tibbs chuckled knowing he hadn't solved her confused but clarity would come as soon as she opened her eyes, and it wasn’t up to him to answer the girl’s questions. Not anymore and surely not when cradled by Allena.

‘Where‘s...am I?’ Silo lisped. In her mind Silo saw Tibbs smile, learn forward to kiss her brow his eyes kind, ‘...and where’s Carpet...’ His name caused a painful ache under her breast. Tibbs looked quickly away. Even now in the ethereal the girl might see more than was good for her.

‘Silo, you’ve found your way back to Allena once again. It’s herself that will answer your questions now.’

'Thank you Tibbs.' Silo's thoughts grew thin slipping back into sleep.

Feeling like a coward Tibbs mumbled another spell and disappeared within a shower of stars.

* ~ * Violet * ~ *

Flint heart hammered hard against his chest listening to the girl mumble in her sleep while squirming to break free from the blankets. He wished Argus had returned already, but he and ‘Violet’ were still alone.

Hesitantly he touched her forehead. She wasn’t hot. She wasn’t sick anymore.

Smiling to himself Flint ducked out from under the hide covering he’d tied to the branches of the flame red tree and looked until he found a leaf bigger than the rest. Plucking the leaf and cupping it in his hand the boy searched for dew catching the drops one by one. Soon his makeshift cup was filled to the brim.

‘Here, drink this.’ Flint held the leaf to the bleary eyed girl awake but not quite aware.]

‘No...more...drug.’ She mumbled turning her face away.

‘Noo, no Violet, it’s just water. Promise.’ Flint whispered. ‘Violet’ drank.

Quickly returning to collect more droplets Flint used the precious fluid to soak a corner of his tunic using it to wipe her eyes and face.

‘Thank you Flint.’ The girl sighed between still parched lips.

Flint dropped the leaf, jumped back and for a moment froze in an open mouth stare. Then he started yelling.


‘But Sir, you don’t understand!’ Flint hissed under his breath and all but stomped his feet. ‘She knew my name!’

Argus chuckled. The boy was white as death and trembling. He’d taken quite a scare.

‘Flint. She’s been sleeping the sleep of the drugged. She can hear us. It isn’t such a mystery lad.’ Argus held his voice low. He wanted the girl to come to but on her own time, he’d not disturb her into waking.

Unwilling to give up the sense of ‘more’ surrounding Violet’s calling him by name Flint scowled and went back to making a fire with the wood Argus brought back to camp.

‘Keep that fire high while I go get the rest of the wood.’ Argus sighed, ’I dropped half a load a wood when I come a runnin.’ Argus didn’t want to leave the pair again but they had to have enough fuel for the night. It wasn’t so much the cold but fire would keep the vines away.

‘While I’m gone you give her all the water she wants but none of this.’ Reaching between his tunic and skin Argus produced a flask and took a long draw of whiskey tossing the flask to the boy.

‘I don’t drink whiskey Argus.’ Flint caught the flask and screwed up his face. The stuff stunk.

‘I know. You think I would have given it to you if you had?’ With a wink Argus melted back into the woods in search of the fallen hardwood.

..~Deliberation And Fortitude~..

So the ghost that quietly smiles in the Library shadows is Regret, Lord Percival
Told-You-So Regret. And here I sit with an empty crib, a faint-mark on the Library
floor where the love of my life was slain and the distant screams of her secret lover
caressing the dark walls of a place I knew as my sanctum.

I straddle universes and ride eternity like a snorting stallion, I command everything
around me to fall at my knee and yet, the smug-spectre awaits and taps his foot with
a patience that rivals my own existence.

Death sighs and touches the grey-clothed bed of Pandora's infant, the Library holds
so many names, so many true names of those who pass through the sky-high doors
where Charon awaits, but to The Grim Reaper... it is empty.
Apart from Field Marshall William-No-Mates Regret IV.



The two humans that assisted in the discovery of the deceitful pact of James
Craddock and Pandora are now through the Looking Glass and making their way
back to their existence. There's a love there -Death mused and immediately
felt Regret's smile widen.
'Something you never had' the slumped-shouldered Malach HaMavet heard from
the gloom.

Somewhere through the doors, the cheating human with the pencilled-moustache
is sobbing and calling on all his bargaining powers to convince Death's brother not
to take him... there.



The FerryMan of the Tarot, the Carrier of Souls or the Right-Hand of Inevitably...
titles that theorists place on him to make their own life seem more stable and
more 'adjusted'
Some say to name your fear is to own it, isn't that what they say?

He would not be coerced, convinced, tricked or beguiled, the oarsman cannot
be bought, enchanted or begged. Charon takes you to Otherside and that's it.



The Roman poet Virgil wrote:
There Chairon stands, who rules the dreary coast -
A sordid god: down from his hairy chin
A length of beard descends, uncombed, unclean;
His eyes, like hollow furnaces on fire;
A girdle, foul with grease, binds his obscene attire.



The Reaper knew those words by heart, he and the stone-faced Riverman
had discussed them often. Charon bore no beard, but at least the poet wrote
his name correctly.
Take that Mr. Smug-Regret.

So what of his kin? What of the collection of woe and sackcloth that stares
blankly at the dark-stain where Pandora had lay? Death sighed again and somewhere
faraway, a flock of birds fell from the sky like black tears.
He was lost... just like Charon's passengers.

There is such a thing as magic and there are such things as miracles, but in the
Beginning it was decided by Jenovah that such tools should only be used in the
reality of mortals.
Hocus-pocus and Abracadabra lay beyond Death's boney-grasp, the 'life' of Pandora
was not something to be brought back by the wave of a hand or the pull of a
silken handkerchief.

But the answer lay with Jenovah, the Omnipotent One. The whole of creation
sat confidently in his lap, he held every single existence as his own children.
Nobody and nothing walked alone for Jenovah was there... every step of the way.
What a waste -Death murmured to himself.

Like shuffling witches broomsticks jousting in a cupboard for who would carry their
owner next, the Reaper's bones clicked and collided as he stood to his true height.
Jenovah was to receive a visit.

And you, Arch-Bishop Ignatius Corn-cob-up-the-ass Regret can wait here Death
didn't say -but thought and left the Library.

..~Down By The Sea~..

On any planet of choice or any place where universes rub shoulders, there's
a path that leads to heaven. As with anything in this odd arena we call 'reality'
there's an alternative waiting in a little nook or shaded hollow, a trail that takes
one to Death's territory.
So watch yer' step.

If you peruse back-editions of local newspapers around the Yosemite area,
the reader will discover short paragraphs of folk disappearing and strange events
occurring around the time of disappearances.

There's other areas on Earth that seem to swallow-up humans and animals,
I could list them here, but would it help? Watch for a place where grass rarely
grows tall or construction of buildings never happens... that maybe one of the paths.
Tread carefully there.

Rainfall is a dead-give away to those who know what to look for, it's the harbinger
of those who use those pathways.

The shadow that dropped like an oil-slick across the warm rain-damp sand of the
dunes seemed darker than the hurried-ones of the visitors that enjoyed the broad-flat
shores around Cape Cod, the penumbra seemed to make a slight crackling sound as
The Grim Reaper began the path to Heaven.

"It's always good to see you Abaddon..." Michael said softly and caused the tall
figure of Death to falter in his stride. "...It's been awhile" the tall blonde-haired
Archangel added and drew in a deep breath of salty air.



The grey heavy clouds were moving off into the Atlantic now and sun had
returned to make the raindrops hurry beneath the fine granules.

Death glanced back to the rickety-fenced walkway that led off through the
sharp grasses and wound it's way towards a leaning shack, the road to his Library
was closed.
"I seek an audience with Jenovah" Death muttered without looking into the
deep-blue eyes of God's right-hand man, Michael had a tendency to preen
as he spoke.

Wiping a stray human hair that had floated onto his immaculate ankle-length
coat, Michael nodded his understanding and soaked in the peaceful surroundings.
"I hear that Pandora..."Michael began but a long-boned finger cut the sentence off.
"Don't mock me, Angel. I speak to the writer -not the pen" Death warned
"Tread carefully"

A small jetty appeared from the placid waters of the bay and with a slight bow,
Jenovah's agent -who is destined to lead an army against the Dark forces of
another tale, waved a neat-nailed hand of invite to the path of Heaven.
The Reaper ignored the gesture and stepped forth.



Now, something about that strange arm of land that seems to boast a bicep at
the Atlantic ocean to it's East. There are some folk-tales and legends about 'Sam Hyde'
and the two women who stumbled during a stormy night into a structure which held
a 'library' But all-in-all, the best ones are from the residue of Native Americans
that still live at Cape Cod.

The Nauset tribe used to speak of strange-looking humanoids that could be
glimpsed in the calm waters off the coast of Plymouth. When the light of the moon
hit's the surface of the bay and tributes are dropped into the shallows, it is said that
the Peldrims can be seen.

Some say sand sharks enjoy the quiet natural harbour and this accounts for the
sightings.
Some say other things.



Peldrims are the damned that await a pardon from the one they believe in.
They are the poor souls that wait for a second chance.

There are yarns regarding the mysterious 'Marsh People' who supposedly
inhabit the swampy areas around Barnstable and there's even a story named
'Jedidia And The Devil.
When universes rub shoulders, huh?

**~~~~~~~~~~ Life Skills and Coping Mechanisms ~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Wild sat near the small fire just outside her cell. She tossed some lavender and sage into it, and watched the colored smoke as it rose languidly upward, barely dancing in the sweet, fragrant breeze.

She felt Gert – the Lady of the Lake – approaching before she heard or saw her. She turned toward her elder with a look of defeat.
Gert swirled over to her, her long black hair moving as fluidly as a slow creek current, reflecting the light in prisms that enveloped her. That aura, the complete ethereal spectrum of this planet was hers alone.

“You lose heart,” said Gert. Wild just blinked at her; there was no need to respond. “You must pull yourself together, there isn’t much time.”

“Time!?” Wild repeated. “How long have we been here now?”

“A few days,” said Gert. “But not the sort of ‘days’ you were used to before. Time moves much more slowly here, and cycles back around only after long stretches of ‘planetary revolution.’ In fact, we are near your outpost, and I need you to be ready.”

“Where are the others? The Sisters?” Wild said. “Is this how you all work? You just lay it on somebody that they’re in your club, without their consent or choice, and then they obey you?”

“Correct,” said Gert with a sad smile. “But not in the way you think. The others are occupied, for the time being, elsewhere. It’s better you are unaware; your sensibilities would distract you from the tasks that lie ahead.”

“I’m not patient enough for this slow progress, and all the mystery,” said Wild. “Perhaps I’m just not cut out for this. I’m used to independent work, without supervision, and making my own way. I don’t know how to be a ‘student’ anymore.”

“Of course you do, you’re simply fighting it. Patience is absolutely required, and as long as you are thinking in terms of linear time as you’ve grown to know it from birth, you’ll feel impatient.”

Wild tossed some more sage onto the flames. “I’m not a patient person, and never have been.”

“You’ll become one, and you have no choice, so you’d best begin to learn it,” said Gert. “Do you think we Sisters didn’t earn our way, just as you are now doing?”

“What about Dag? You said she’d had no idea she was in the Sisterhood until you all left the Yydryl in Cecilia, and now she’s out on her own…” she offered, in a petulant voice. “It isn’t fair.”

“Would you prefer then, that rather than be here, safely nurturing your own aura, we boil you in zombicidal boiling water? Dag made a mistake. I’m trying to prevent you repeating the same thing. I need you both.”

Wild stood up to face her mentor. “You’re not big on ‘free will’ are you?”

Gert smiled again and shook her head. “It has nothing to do with what I’m ‘big’ on – it has to do with the truth. We are here to achieve something.”

“But, what?”

“I can only tell you that you are assigned to our Sisterhood. The answers you seek lie within you alone,” Gert said. “You might as well not fight it. Believe me when I tell you that Dag is not happy and fine at the moment; but all will be well. Her journey is not yours. Now come, I want you to see the progress that the youths are making.”

She was referring to Brittle and Alaag, who had been under Ben’s tutelage since their arrival here.
“You’re finally taking me to them?” Wild said, hope relaxing her throat and her pulse.

“Yes, they have done well; Ben assures me they are ready,” said Gert, and turned and walked away. Wild followed her, once more entranced by her aura – by the ineffable brilliance of it, and wondered what color her own was. Gert answered her wordless query: “It’s yellow.”

Wild sighed. Again, Gert responded unasked: “An improvement over green, make no mistake.”

As they walked, Wild thought back to the adventure that had brought them here, and marveled at the audacity of a universe that was mostly ‘invisible’ to its human inhabitants, that was capable of stretching and changing time – of shattering any sense of ‘reality’ that its inhabitants could discern. She still didn’t really get it – being only a novice, but felt enthralled with Gert’s promises of teaching her everything she’d need to know to eventually govern her own colony.

While she enjoyed the peaceful solitude of this lovely place, she was acutely aware of missing the drama of having to fight for survival every moment. Being a natural-born leader, she would rather spend her time dreaming of when she’d finally be in charge somewhere than working on herbals as Gert had tasked.

They’d been gone so long now that she wondered if any of the rest of the strange party back on KayFour even thought of them anymore.

* ~ * Moriah * ~ *

Center of the viewing room Chumley squared Moriah's shoulders between his big palms positioning her directly in front of the hologram plinth before stepping back. He was doing his job. Moriah was not to escape. Not that she would try, but Chumley still had a job to do - as odious as it might be.

Ship flared to ‘life‘ above the plinth dwarfing both Moriah and Chumley in a gigantic blaze of color and glow. ‘Damn thing’, Ship grumbled under her breath, struggled with something they couldn't see as her presence shuddered and shrunk down to normal size seeming to hover there in spectrums of green and gold.


‘You killed Pip.’ Ship stated without preamble.

‘Not intentionally!’ Close to tears Moriah dove headfirst into her defense. Chumley took a step closer but Moriah waved him away. She’d do this on her own.

‘Intentionally or no without provocation on his part you drew our weapon and as a result Pip is dead.’ Ship replied her tone unreadable her point matter of fact.

‘And what he did intentionally to my sister? What about that!’ Moriah choked on a scream. Ship’s eyes flicked to Chumley who lay his big palm flat atop the girl’s silver white hair. One great big pat on the head to calm her inside and out. He wouldn’t mistakenly lay hands on her shoulder again. He’d felt her flinch before, she must be hurt, damaged. She should have told him.

‘Moriah.‘ Ship sighed, ‘The Yydryl has long been...separated from outside authority. Far times have passed since we were aligned with any governing group,’ Ship continued choosing her words carefully, ‘Regardless of our ‘independence‘ we can not and will not tolerate murder of an unarmed crew member. At least not without a trial.’ Ship turned back her green eyes sparking.

‘Ship. Mam.’ Moriah‘s voice broke, ‘Pip was responsible for what happened to my sister...’ Moriah’s half truth caused her heart to thud hard in her chest. It was her fault too. Hers.

‘Yes, I know the details of his actions I reviewed the log. The Yydryl is still trying to recover from the power drain.’ Ship gave the point.

‘Which is even more a reason why he needed to be punished! He almost killed you too’! Moriah impassioned and knowing her rightness threw her hands forward demanding justice.

‘Regardless, it gave you no right to kill him.’

‘Ship, please. Please...’ Moriah moaned dropping to her knees like in supplication causing Ship a feeling as uncomfortable as she had ever been. ‘Yes, I went for him. In the capacity of my job I went for him. And then, you’re right, I lost it. I raged at him. I pulled my weapon but I didn’t use it on him! He did it to himself!’ Flinging her arms wide Moriah dropped her head to her knees. Ship turned away again.

‘Get up!‘ Ship snarled, ‘I repeat, I reviewed the log and what you say is true. Pip threw himself on your blade.’ Ship’s voice leveled coldly. ‘All the same a crew member is dead by your hand. What would you have me do?’

‘I would have you met out justice.’ Moriah dipped her head hiding the surge of hope filling her large liquid eyes.

'And what ‘justice’ would you suggest?' Ship marveled at the girl’s tenacity knowing what was coming next.

‘Banish me to the planet.’

(cont.)

* ~ * Moriah’s Plan cont. * ~ *

‘...banish me from the Yydryl until I can find my sister and bring her...home.’ Moriah’s emphasis lingered on the word home.

‘How will you accomplish this?’ Deep green eyes stared intently at Moriah from the hologram. Ship’s emotions thrummed like a plucked wire.

‘I’ll repair the transporter.’ Moriah paced thinking quickly, ‘When I get to Jeni, well, I’ve not figured out how to transport people without a sender and a receiver but I’ll use the plans I found for the Deson's PL8 and...’

‘Moriah!‘ Ship interjected, ‘Why not use a Tumbler? You yourself cleared the unit scheduled to go planet side tomorrow.‘ Ship didn’t add the Tumbler wouldn’t find Silo or Newman. Moriah and the others would find that out later.

‘I would but...I can’t,’ Moriah dropped her head knowing it was time for truth telling.

‘I can’t use a Tumbler because I don’t know exactly where Jeni is,’ The girl’s voice trembled as one lone tear rippling down her cheek, ’I don’t know if Pip changed the coordinates before he rigged the power.‘ Moriah waited for questions from Ship. When they didn’t come she persisted, ‘What I do know is when I repair the transporter it will take me to wherever Jeni is. I know it will.’ Fear but not uncertainty shadowed the girls words.

‘So in all reality you’ve no idea where your sister is or if she‘s even alive?’ Ship’s held up her arm for silence but still Moriah interrupted.

‘Mam, I know Jeni's still alive. I’d know if she wasn’t, we all would.’ Moriah referred to her siblings living aboard the Yydryl, ‘But no, I don’t know where she is. That part’s a crap shoot.’ Moriah lifted her chin challenging Ship to accept her plan.

‘A crap shoot?’ Ship’s brows dropped, ‘What do you mean ‘crap shoot‘?’

‘It’s something my father used to say.’ Moriah referred to her childhood growing up with her sisters in a casino owned and run by her only surviving parent.

‘And?’

‘It means if you’ve got luck on your side - you win.’ Moriah blinked and waited on the gamble.

Ship sighed.

(cont.)

* ~ * Moriah’s Plan cont. III * ~ *

Chumley thought of Jeni, his ‘little Jeni‘. He whispered her name crossed his thick green lips. It was all the impetus he needed to step up the plinth and salute Ship. ‘I go too!’ Chumley puffed his chest eager to be a part of a mission to find the lost girl. Jeni needed him Ship did not. Chumley squared his shoulders standing at sharp command, ready.

‘You too?‘ Ship’s translucent green head shook leaving a trail of lights in the hologram.

‘So you two are asking me to allow my Captain of Security and his Second in Command to abandon the Yydryl...?’ Ship let them hear her incredulity, ‘...while taking the chance at maybe being turned to toast in the process?‘ Ship watched Chumley closely. He paled to puce. It was just as she’d thought. Her Regalian-gone-biped obviously had not thought through his valiant offer.

Chumley looked at Moriah, Moriah back at him, their shoulders lifted briefly in unison.

‘Don't either of you see the problem here?’ Ship sounded aghast shaming Chumley with a spark of hope his rash request would be denied.

Moriah bobbed up and down in place on her toes her feet not leaving the ground. ‘Ship, I have to,‘ Her huge lavender eyes darting to Chumley she corrected herself, ‘We have to try!’ To Moriah the decision was already made. For her there was no choice.

‘Alright, I‘ll allow it,‘ Ship capitulated ignoring the squeals and high fives passed between Moriah and Chumley.

‘Thank you...’ Chumley started, Ship cut him off.

‘Before leaving you’ll both attend to Pip’s disposal but mark my word I don’t want him buried in the Center.‘ Chumley nodded knowingly. Ship wanted the body shot into space using the torpedo shafts. Chumley closed his lips tightly glad Moriah had no idea of Ship’s meaning. Instead the girl let her enthusiasm get the best of her again.

White hair and violet eyes flashed but Ship waved away Moriah's attempt to interrupt, ‘Also, you will transport Pip’s animals via the Tumbler to the surface. With the energy drain on the Center the last thing I need is to try and support his livestock. The Center has been compromised enough as it is’ Ship’s hologram began to fade.

‘Oh Ship, thank you, thank you so much!’ Moriah would have hugged Ship if the hologram would have supported it.

‘Chumley, yes, you’ll go too.’ Ship almost laughed at his dower expression, ’via the Tumbler with the livestock. I’ll not risk you with the Deson transporter, or Deson PL8 - whatever that is.’ Ship’s voice sounded sure, but sterile and emotionless.

‘Thank you.’ Chumley sounded relieved and renewed, also a little hurt. He didn’t think Ship would let him go so easily.

‘Chumley, there‘s more.‘ Ship let her vision fade - she didn’t want either of them to see her expression, or remember it later. ‘After arrival planet side if you fail to rendezvous with Moriah in three days you’ll return to the Yydryl leaving Moriah and the...others behind.’

Chumley and Moriah sobered.

‘Three days Chumley.’ Ship pronounced and was gone.

‘Yes Mam.’ Chumley acknowledged the dead air space where Ship had spun out of hologram in a shower of stars.

Unseen yet monitoring their actions Ship witnessed the pair exchange a hug almost wishing she could have shared in that one last physical tradition. Ship also wished she hadn’t just leveled a death sentence on the girl and a fate worse than death - banishment to a hostile planet - on her beloved Chumley. But what was done, was done, he just didn’t know it yet.

Ship’s regret didn’t last long. There was too much to do. She had to find a way to rid the Yydryl of the other bipeds, and soon. Once they were gone? Ship would be gone too.

* ~ * Ready to Go * ~ *

‘All does cowboy movies?’ Chumley gasped his pale green lips gapping and spread wide, his chin dripping a shower of sweat, ‘Dey done know nutin’! Dey lied, dey all lied!’ Chumley threw himself sideways his arms flapping trying to herd the last of the pigs onto the Tumbler where the huge transport vehicle parked strategically blocking the opening of a natural corral created by pair of high steppe ledges near Pip’s little cabin inside the Center.

‘Horses and pigs don’t get along Chum, it’s something prehistoric’. Moriah laughed handing Chumley a water bottle filled with electrolytes and lemon. She didn’t watch while he gulped the liquid. You can put the biped into the Regalian but you can’t take the Regalian out of the biped she thought hearing, but not seeing him slurp the drink.

‘Does movies? Dey makes dis animal herding ‘ting look so easy. It aint easy.‘ Chumley grumbled not listening to Moriah until he finally barked, ‘and why you...not tell me dis horse piggy before!’ But just as quickly Chumley dropped his grumping to give a whoop and holler redolent of Wayne when the last pig tripped up the ramp squealing as it went. That it went so on it’s own didn’t matter to the Regalian one whit.

Moriah didn’t bother to remind him she had told him about the Equine/Swine aversion she just ’whooped’ along with her friend. Not for the lack of trying Chumley had finally accomplished the almost impossible. He should have loaded the animals separately but at the moment it just didn’t matter.

‘You got more a dat electro stuff?’ Chumley wiped his brow handing Moriah the empty bottle looking for another.

‘You’ve got all you can drink aboard the Tumbler.‘ Moriah smiled pushing Chumley towards the Tumbler’s door. ‘Time to get going...Sir.’ Moriah almost called him ’hun’ and giggled,’ You don’t want to keep those animals waiting.’ Moriah wanted him gone. Now. She wanted to get back to Pip’s scant funeral then back to repairing the transporter. She still had a lot of work to do.

‘You sures you wants ta do da Pip thing by yerself?’ Chumley sobered looking deep into the girls brilliant lavender eyes.

‘Yep. You already got him loaded in the torpedo shaft, all that’s left to do is hit the blast button.’ Moriah chuckled. She didn’t mean to be disrespectful but dead was dead. And Jeni was gone...

‘Ok girlie. You blast that varmint to hell den go git yer sister,’ Chumley had yet to drop his cowboy twang, ‘I be waiting fer ya.‘ Chumley pat her on the head and joined her in a ‘high five’ before dipping his head and whispering in her ear. ‘I wait fer you two not jest three days.’ Chumley husked again, ’I wait tree years if I has ta so you git going now and then jest wait fer yer Chumley.‘ Her big green friend’s eyes scanned the surroundings looking for something Moriah couldn’t see before he chugged up the transporters ramp and was gone.

Moriah waited a moment watching the huge Tumbler rise from the valley floor maneuvering away from natural corral. It was a beautiful thing to see, the huge vehicle turning silently on a dime not ruffling a blade a grass beneath.

She didn’t wait for the Tumbler to exit the Center. The Tumbler left the Yydryl alone and unnoticed. Moriah was back in Deson’s laboratory her head buried under the transporter replacing the last of the burnt wires.

Ship? Ship didn’t care.

* ~ * Where am I? * ~ *

Cold. Cold in her body. Her blood sluggish and thick. Cold in her head, icicles boring through her brain. Cold seeping straight through into her soul, claiming her, sapping life.

Jeni moaned and swallowing the sound. Instinct told her to be silent. It was dark, so dark! Yet even in the dark she knew she wasn’t on the Yydryl anymore. And that meant danger.

Vague memories of moments ago flashed behind her eyes making her stomach heave, bile leaking from the corner of her mouth. Memories of being caught half in and out of the transporter - Moriah’s smile so bright and sure - ‘everything would be alright’ she promised in cheerful babble while she worked.

Then, the deafening shriek and stink as her world was torn apart, her body disintegrating cell by cell followed by a blinding light that made Jeni scream. Loud and long.

Another memory split her head in two.

Pip, a weasel sly smile scaring his face his top lip slightly curled. After seeing that smile, in slow motion and even before he threw the switch Jeni knew what would happen next. Pip had connected the power to the transporter, the unfinished, untested and uncontrolled transporter. From there is was all pain and smoke. Pain and smoke.

The taste of canker in her mouth brought Jeni back to the present then the gong of bells, bells ringing not inside but outside her head clanging through the mist bathing her cheeks the sound round and full but far away. Jeni was hearing the echoes, not the original toll.

Dark, so dark.

Jeni tilted her head slowly from side to side, testing. The pain was sharp but dulled as she rotated her neck and then her shoulders. Shifting her weight back on her elbows she pulled herself up wondering why it was called pulled when she had to push to get herself up. She wanted to laugh but swallowed the sound as she had her moan.

It was still too dark to see, but the bells tolled calling her on. At least wherever she was there was someone else here too she told herself feeling a small ray of hope, and peace. There had to be someone there ringing the bells. Someone who would help.

Hitching herself upright Jeni found she couldn’t lift her head higher than her shoulders but it was enough to allow her to shamble forward. Slowly. She couldn’t see the path beneath her feet, bare feet she realized with surprise when something unseen bit into the soft flesh between her toe.

Raising stiff cold hands to her chest Jeni felt for Ship’s uniform feeling only skin pricking with cold, stuck with bits of grass and dirt frozen there. She had no shirt, no pants, no...nothing. She was naked.

Afraid of what came next Jeni pushed her hands in front of her face.

The dark didn’t change. The dark remained the same.

Jeni was blind.

* ~ * Newman Lost and Found * ~ *

‘Tell my brother...’ He begged, breath coming in quick stabbing pants exhaling the bittersweet stench of imminent death.

...Blackness...

‘Tell my son...’ Barely audible, his last breath a puffing ‘please’ finally gave out in a long agonizing sigh.

...Blackness...

* ~ * * ~ *

Wetness blanketed him stinking cold and red, the copper taste flooding his mouth when he tried to breath. Gushes of vomit expelling the stuff from his stomach, gut wrenching coughs expelling the same from his lungs.

‘Newman...’ A soft voice crept up through the ground beneath him, warming him. ‘It’s time to wake Newman. It’s over. The giant’s gone. Your safe now.’ The words crooned on and on never once repeating but the intent was always the same.

‘Newman...’ Lilting sweetness turned insistent, fingers of thought searched his mind, what lay behind his eyes but leaving the awful memories unexplored. Even she couldn’t go there.

‘You were hurt. I’ve done what I can to heal you. Now it‘s up to you. Get up Newman. Get up.‘ She tried again, ‘Carpet you must wake and rise. You must find Silo!’ The last word bathed him in pain so achingly sweet his heart lurched, swelling, giving one feeble beat, then another stronger, then another stronger still. Newman sucked in a breath, a drowned man reaching first air breaking free from the loneliest sea. He took a wanting breath just to say her name.

‘Si..lo..’ A horrific mewling spit from between cracked lips split anew to leak more red ooze from the corners.

‘Ahhh, so that’s the magic?’ She chuckled to herself exiting the Milli-Being’s mind. Probing was acceptable, in some cases. Overdoing it was not, in any circumstances.

‘Newman. Listen well. I’ve given you all my strength, now I must rest.‘ Her words slowed but held steady. ‘Get up, get up Newman. Go to teh rendezvous spot. There are friends there waiting for you.’

The gore soaked Milli-Being-turned-Biped didn’t stir. Wondering a moment if his wounds were more severe than she’d first believed her roots trembled under the deep hill, little animals and bugs scuttled from her trunk. But no, she thought, his sickness was one of the heart. He’d seen too much. Felt too much. Lost too much. Endured beyond what should have been unendurable. She’d mourn for him but that would come later. Now she must make him gain his feet, move, live.

To the backs of his shoulders and knees finger like vine sprouting fiery red leaves didn’t just touch him, or stroke him, they poked him. Hard.

‘Newman, you must rise. I can’t help you any more’. Her vines a bright contrasts of green against the blood covering Newman wrapped under his armpits and knees, the only spots free from carnage. Slowly surely they tugged him to his knees first pulling his chest upright and back, then his knees up and forward rocking him too and fro. As soon as he rested on his shins, head bent forward over his chest hanging out over his knees the vines slipped away with a rustle of disgust.

Newman blinked, tried to anyway, his eyelashes were stuck dried blood having bonded the lashes together. Too weak to raise his hands and wipe the muck free he made to lay back down. The voice refused him.


‘Tip your head. Back. I will help.’ Newman did what she asked, if slowly.

The Tree of Life, Allena swayed her branches forward the leaves cupping morning dew. Drop by drop from leaf to leaf the runnels ran together forming rivulets then a stream then a shower of water she guided over Newman's face and eyes.

Clear clean water ran red down his battered body. And the water was sweet. Newman opened his mouth, drank and drank more. His eyes opened slowly. Newman blinked, blinked again looking for his savior. There was no one there but a...tree.

Licking the last of the water from his broken cracked lips Newman tried to speak and could not.

‘Save your voice. I am Allena.’ The tree whispered through his mind before giving herself a last brisk shake showering Newman with droplets fine as mist.

‘Allena...’ Newman repeated her name in his thoughts where memories lurked. He remembered the name, and more, or so he thought but he didn‘t care. All he cared about was Silo. Her name became a silent keening cry broke from behind a ragged fence of shattered teeth.

‘Be still Newman, be calmed!‘ Allena trembled again at his pain, ‘If she’s still alive you will find her but first you must go to the rendezvous point.’ Allena answered silently the words staccato pips tripping through his brain.

He tried to form a thanks, and could not. Again Allena knew.

‘No Newman, do not thank me. I didn’t save your life. Quiet did.’ Her branches drooped remembering the beautiful brave warrior and his sacrifice.

’Newman, rise, do as he wished. Tell his brother. Tell his Son.’ Allena thought over her next words carefully, ’And when you find Silo tell her about the Neno. It’s time Newman. You know it‘s time...’ Finished now Allena grew quiet as the morning wind wafting through her branches stirring a leaf here, a leaf there.

Lifting his eyes to glittering red bows spreading above him Newman offered his promise under dappled sun dimpling through her leaves making him squint, warming patches of his shivering skin.

Allena’s branches swayed aside in a benediction then held there affording Newman the full strength of the pale morning sun. Fueled by the indigent warmth, Newman rose.

Avalon Inc.


When Enrico Fermi commented 'where is everybody?' the quote was referring
to the idea that with the universe being so big and supposedly filled with suns
and planets, surely civilisations would be interacting with each other to such
a point as resources would never be a problem.

Prada May -the large green globe in the Centari system, would agree with the
Italian Physicist, there seems to be nobody delivering the goods.
To be more precise, the planet was running out of vital minerals and ores and
the question wasn't where are the saviours from the skies, but what are we
going to do now?

Avalon Inc. came up with a solution that would be commented on in later-journals
as 'an act of brilliance' and 'Industry once again, manning the walls of care' when
in reality, the answer was obtained in a less-noble fashion.

Prada May prized itself on having a healthy global outlook, poverty was a vague
memory and crime was merely an annoying fly that occasionally buzzed onto the
population's perspective.
The lush foliage of the planet obviously helped and thanks to wiser-heads, it was
realised that this organic benefit shouldn't be trifled with, any progress would
have to weigh the serious repercussions of destroying the vast jungles and forests.

So as the residents of this well-behaved world moved along and built their empires,
a cautious eye was kept on it's surroundings and one could say that other races could
better themselves by taking a page out of Prada May's book.

Then they ran out of Berrin. The huge deposits just dried-up and due to Prada May
boasted mile-high structures built with the flexible material, there was quite a panic
when Berrin-mining companies suddenly announced lay-offs and mass-redundancy.

Avalon Inc. stepped up to the plate and assured the populace that all would be well
and two weeks later, Carbonim went bye-bye... no more fuel to burn.
The odd-thing about Prada May is that the scientists were at a loss to explain how the
fossilized- carbon could run out. I mean with all those trees about, it seemed ludicrous
that the stuff that we know as 'coal' could suddenly be no more.
It just didn't make sense.
So with 'squeaky-bum time' waiting in the wings, to stop the thoughts of mass panic
and the crumbling of moral standards it was Avalon Inc. that revealed it's newest
discovery.
The Glass Veil.

In reality, Avalon Inc. had just acquired Paradigm Aerospace Industries and the small
company had just finished designing a new craft that could cross the one hundred
and eighty-thousand miles to a nearby moon.
The executives at Avalon believed that the dark-crusty orb could be exploited for it's
sleeping minerals and it was this spaceship, that was to be shown to the relieved
people of Prada May.

As luck would have it, a chap with a large garage and his eye on making a fortune
was tinkering around with a home-made machine that could send oral messages
by using a vacuum wrapped in a plasma-ball.
Apparently, certain electrons draw similar electrons and so, a dispatcher and
receiver could -in theory, could be created and be used to have these unique balls
of crackling nothingness flying from one place to another in an instant.
Personally, I'd have invented the telephone, but heh... what do I know?

Jacob Merlin had stumbled across something that he originally called a 'Gravity Punch'
during his time in the garage and when the grey mist that poured from the sparking
machine cleared to show a scene that the bald-headed Merlin had never seen before,
he reckoned a vacation-making opportunity had arisen.
He contacted Avalon Inc. that very-same day.

Avalon Inc. 'acquired' this discovery two months after Jacob Merlin was found dead in
his bathroom. People should really take care where they leave bars of soap.

The Gravity Punch -which was re-christened 'The Glass Veil' was a force that caused
a tear in time and space and through the fizzing aperture another reality could be
accessed.
It was the same type of artificial Worm-Hole that the Vithians had been using for...
well, a long time.

For Prada May, this discovery came as a saviour and the big-green planet's future
was assured. Praise be to Avalon and onward with raiding other world's of their
underground deposits!

All of this was twenty centuries ago and today, the huge pyramid structures
that rumbled in their subterranean endeavours worked automatically, Prada May
had long-gone in an internal war.The planet that they had held so dear now lay
barren and uninhabitable, so much for focus.



The single employee, who's job status was called a 'Merlin' (now there's corporate
guilt!)... watched from the small window at the base of the pyramid as the
humanoid wearing the wide-rimmed hat stepped out of the mist.
The clipboard that hung from a hook beside the window swayed in unison with
the intruder's gait, the old man in round spectacles that would rival Tibbs' pushed
out his bottom-lip and blew air onto his face, this one looked mean.



If this wasn't enough for one day, the sight of the slim-craft touching down made
the Merlin gulp and reach to re-set his tie, it looked like it was gonna be a busy day.