by H C Turk
The walls of this narrower chamber suggested shelving, holding unfamiliar elements. Parno saw no helical dataglyphs, no projected info displays, no expanded holovids. He continued, stopping at that voice.
“Kathlynn, you’re speaking alien. It sounds sexy, so you had better quit.”
The alien on the other end paused.
“Is this better?” Kathlynn soon asked.
“Yes! That’s English. Go ahead.”
“Here’s what to do, Parno. Lean, in the sitting sense, downward against the jointed projection resembling a logolyzer, making certain you exert no pressure with your scrotum.”
“Kathlynn, I heard every English word you spoke, and they were alien.”
“Please, Parno, can’t you comply?”
“Wait,” he said.
He turned to the standing function retainers. One was leaning downward against a flexible projection resembling…nothing an Earth anthropologist had ever seen before. Parno would be certain, however, not to allow his scrotum to exert any pressure against that technol appendage.
Returning to “his” workstation, Parno reached, pulled, settled, and felt a pressure that seemed an extension of his spine.
“Affirmed,” he said. “Achieved.”
“Yes! I sense it here.”
“Kathlynn, are we having sex yet?”
“Parno, please—we’re almost through. All you have to do is….”
Pull the grab-fab skein while twisting the static overture housing, feeling for vibrations that shake the wrist, not the fingers, listening for a darker shade of unsaturated blue along the length of mystiphysical juncture crutch toward….
Had he been reclining in a medical infirmary, major surgery would have been transpiring. Parno felt throbs in his internal organs, heard colors in his fingertips, and saw clicking numerals accounting for unknown results. He awaited signifiers of success from his favorite alien. It came as a burp. The vessel’s inner surfaces all shifted lightly, accompanied by a tiny thump.
“Was that it, Kathlynn?”
“Yes!” she chirped. “I think. I’m running out to see if the airlock door is open.”
Only in his mind did he hear her footsteps. Seconds later, he heard her voice throughout his mind and heart and spirit. The voice that returned expressed Earth-norm terror.
“Parno!” she said, her breath a gasp, an inhalation of fear that took Parno’s breathing, “that suit, our suit with the, with the ghost, it is running, it is running right toward—”
Emotion connected the Earthers. Kathlynn’s fear was so compelling a communiqué as to mandate Parno’s actions. He ran as the voice ended, drawn by separation, not silence.
Chapter 12
Cleanse The Universe
She would not leave the process margin. She would not look over her shoulder. Reasonably, she should remain at the creativity cusp in order to direct Parno’s actions. The sooner they opened the airlock, the sooner they could leave. Regardless, Kathlynn did not want to look over her shoulder and see a dead void with flailing limbs reaching for her throat. She did not want to turn only to see that Parno was not present.
Perhaps, in the normal world, she would not have missed him so deeply. In this alien realm, however, Parno’s departure had taken her finest friend.
Releasing the proceed-leads for the act initiator, Kathlynn felt confidence in their success. Data returns from the guidance cell informed her of a creative response from Parno. These data, however, were implications to Kathlynn, not authoritative. After all, she was only an Earther.
“I’m running out to see if the airlock door is open,” Kathlynn said brightly, then turned to step past the humanoid forms on the floor.
She did not consider herself childish to wish them a happy ending to their lives. As Parno’s ancestors might say, may the spirits of righteousness accept your return to the earth.
Kathlynn ran outside only to find abject failure. The vast airlock door remained closed. Noting a movement with peripheral vision, she turned to Parno with no ready explanation for their failure. She turned to Parno, who again wore an Earth ground suit. Through the clear bubble, Kathlynn saw that Parno’s skin now had the color of space.
She had been correct all along. She should never have turned from the creativity cusp. Now she had to face moving, manifested hell.
The ghost ran awkwardly in the suit, but moved without stumbling. The imprecision in its stretching limbs did not suggest incompetence to Kathlynn, but dedication. The suit’s bearer was not human, after all, but a demon.
The ghost had burned her brain out, Kathlynn felt, for heat like lightning filled her senses. She would react, but not correctly, she knew. Kathlynn knew that she could not outrun the resurrected creature. Transfixed by fear, she could barely breathe. She stared for too many seconds, though aware that she had to flee. Stiff movements across the floor told of broken limbs to come. Hard strides forced from an alien combination of dead suit and dead bearer implied the initiative of evil. Though the ghost was a genius to have achieved a new body, Kathlynn would have to outthink it. She began with panic.
Running to the creativity cusp, she did not notice the dead figures at her feet. As she spoke to Parno, Kathlynn did notice that her voice was no more graceful than that demon’s moves, no less suggestive of doom.
“Parno, that suit, our suit with the, with the ghost, it is running, it is running right toward—”
She stepped away, unable to accept a position that placed the ghost at her back. She had, however, accepted the position of being trapped in a small chamber as death’s demon approached.
The people at her feet had failed in life. Being less comfortably dead, the ghost had failed immortally. But Kathlynn was certain the ghost had not killed its own peers. The ghost existed as an agitated anima, murdered so heinously it could not accept rest. Murdered in an alien manner.
On this world, visitors, invaders, and indigenes were all alien to one another.
This boat had no portholes. Were Kathlynn more authoritative as a vessel inhabitant, she could have created, with the cusp, a window in the wall. Then she would have seen the creature before it stepped beside her, as it did the next moment.
The silence seemed so horrible. Paces away, at the compartment’s entry, stood an Earth ground suit facing her. Facing her with no face. No head. Never before had Kathlynn been so near the smoke ghost. Now she grasped the horror held by that form. Kathlynn saw no head, no face, no figure, no visage but her own. The ghost was a time machine of immediacy, displaying her own death, her upcoming death, arriving in one ghost-norm moment on the clock of demise. She saw perfectly, and felt blinded. The suit held her own remains, not in the form of blissful rest achieved after passing from life, but black ashes burned with the heat of horror, the soot of her spirit.
The sound was so horrible. A small sound of despair came to her, a whine or moan that seemed utterly foreign, though it emanated from her throat.
She wondered if the ghost would step on its kin as it reached to strike her dead not with flames, but with fear. Kathlynn could not see, having stepped backward against the nearest function retainer. It wrapped around her, taking her senses in exchange for a blissful visage that seemed death.
* * *
His metamodern exercise regimen had failed him. Running a mere fifty paces should not have caused fatigue, but Parno panted deeply and his joints felt rigid. His eyesight remained excellent, however, for he did not see the ghost. Running across the translation arena’s floor, he saw no smoke shape, no perverted Earth suit, and no Kathlynn. What if she were in the compartment, but not alone?
Ignorance struck in the form of terror as the worthless Earther rushed into the process margin, stopping abruptly at the sight of dark, dead forms on the floor. Since these were the same alien suits seen before, Parno looked across to the wall, seeing Kathlynn. She had wrapped on a function retainer. Since this compartment held no niches for concealment, Parno was certain that the Earthers were alone.
He stared for a moment, satisfied to feel his breathing return to normal. Parno noticed that Kathlynn’s eyebrows and lashes were not the same color, but different shades of deepest brown. He almost raised his hand to touch the supremely fine hair on her cheek, nearly invisible. He wanted to embrace her. Here was an alien idea. Though virtually together, neither person would feel the other’s body. Kathlynn would sense whatever knowledge the alien system provided her, and Parno would feel the rigid skin of the function retainer. They would only share separation.
He stepped away, looking around inside, then exited, examining the greater translation arena, finding only those void ends, no approaching ghost. Knowledge then penetrated Parno. He understood that Kathlynn had never remained in an alien function retainer so long.
He rushed into the process margin. Thinking of nothing but Kathlynn’s release, he allowed a suit to wrap around his form. After a moment of feeling removed—removed from that room, the vessel, Kathlynn’s presence, even his own thoughts—Parno found himself standing beside Kathlynn. Both of their alien function retainers again were upright against the wall. Though somewhat bent, Kathlynn did not seem damaged, only distracted.
“Kathlynn?”
Lacking courage, he could not directly ask of her condition. She might explain that her condition was disastrous.
Breathing harshly through her nostrils in virtually a snort, Kathlynn straightened, eyes wide, while grasping both breasts. Lowering one hand to her vulva, she began rubbing, rubbing, looking longingly to…no one. She licked her teeth, the tip of her tongue showing.
Here was the Kathlynn of his dreams, if his dreams were alien. Parno considered shaking her shoulders, for she seemed in a trance, but decided not to disturb her. He may have been witnessing a type of recuperation required for her to return to normal after suffering a surfeit of alien education. Had he not been uncertain and anxious, Parno would have felt…romantic.
During that previous speaking an era ago, Kathlynn had been right. She wasn’t short.
Then, she settled. Her mouth closed. Her hands dropped to her sides. Kathlynn blinked, now appearing thoughtful.
“We have to…,” she said, her eyes moving side to side, Kathlynn searching for a memory before it dissipated like smoke in open air.
She turned and began stepping over bodies.
“We have to destroy that other ground suit,” she said.
Parno followed. Again, Kathlynn seemed perfectly normal, reacting without even glimpsing Parno. She seemed better than fine. To Parno, Kathlynn’s voice and movements were wonderful.
She began trotting. She ran like an athlete. No, she was not short.
They did not speak again until standing side by side on the ribbon.
He reached to rub her back. He could not help it. She only responded by looking into Parno’s eyes with a half smile. Half pleased, half dazed, half satisfied? He could not tell.
“Kathlynn, you have to tell me about the suit,” Parno said, dropping his hand. “When I was in the guidance cell, you said that you saw the ghost in our suit running somewhere. What happened?”
“I’m not certain,” she replied, brushing the hair from her ear.
Reflexively he touched his repaired ear lobe. It felt normal, though alien.
“Do you remember anything, Kathlynn?”
“Yes, I remember certain things precisely,” she said. “I saw the ghost in our suit running toward me. Parno, that was hideous, sickening,” she blurted. With a brief shake of her head, she continued in a normal tone. “I didn’t think I could avoid it, so I ran into the process margin and wrapped on a function retainer. Then I saw you standing beside me. The first thought that came to me was that we have to destroy our remaining suit before the ghost can use it as a weapon.”
“It wasn’t much of a weapon,” Parno replied. “You weren’t injured.”
“I think it’s still learning how to utilize the suit. I’m still learning how to utilize theirs. We’re both awkward in the wrong clothes.”
“How close did it come?”
Before Kathlynn could focus on Parno’s face, her lips began trembling. She stared at him as though seeking salvation.
“Parno, I looked into the eyes of death.”
Kathlynn began sobbing almost soundlessly, not responding when Parno held her in his arms, pressing her face against his shoulder, embracing her with no word. Parno’s greatest emotion was that he would avoid holding Kathlynn ever again rather than feel such sorrow from her.
They parted as the ribbon ended. Kathlynn stepped ahead, no longer appearing fearful, only fatigued. The parlor held no horror. The parlor, lobby, hell’s center. Proceeding to the greenhouse panel, they found their next disaster. They found blank lahar.
“The ghost has our other suit,” Kathlynn seethed. “Come on, Parno, let’s leave the passage hub so we can open the main airlock and leave.”
Kathlynn immediately stepped away, toward that panel depicting a mass of connected shapes.
Parno did not follow. He stood in the parlor’s center, arms spread wide, not enjoying his ignorance.
“Hello, Mizz Geniusfem, where are we standing now?” he demanded.
“Why, in the passage hub.”
“Kathlynn, how did you learn that new translation?”
She had to pause.
“I’m just smarter than you,” she smirked.
He dropped his arms, feeling purely stupid. He hung his head, not arguing.
“Parno,” Kathlynn said brightly, now smiling, “I must have learned more my last time wrapped by a function retainer. Strangely enough, I’m not sure what I know now that I didn’t know before.”
“If you know how to get us out, I’ll kiss you as soon as we hit the beach.”
Her smile again changing to a smirk, Kathlynn stepped smartly to Parno, placing both hands on his cheeks.
“You will dye your beard for me,” she said softly, stroking that grey streak, “or you will kiss yourself.”
Though erotic, Kathlynn had such a sweet demeanor that Parno felt his heart would melt. Upon last leaving the function retainer, Kathlynn’s romanticism had differed. Though much more erotic, the attitude had been caused by some artifice of her experience, Parno was certain. He would not mention this to Kathlynn only to embarrass the woman about to satisfy his fondest desire: kissing Kathlynn Shumard.
“I can’t, Kathlynn,” he said in a whisper.
“You can’t dye your beard for me? I would love to see it pure black, like deepest space.”
“Kathlynn, it is purest black, like deep space. I dye it grey to appear more mature.”
“You’re a phony,” she said, no longer smiling.
“I genuinely adore you,” he replied, and she kissed him.
She kissed the corner of his mouth, his lower lip, kissed him on the grey streak of his beard, and tip of his nose. Parno parted his lips and accepted her kisses, believing he had never, never felt better in his life.
Kathlynn pulled away, dropping her hands. No more kissing. But Parno retained his wonderful feeling.
“Parno, I am so happy. I cannot tell you how absolutely horrible it was to look at that ghost in the suit and see my own death. But now I know it was only a threat.”
“Only a threat, Kathlynn, are you certain?”
“Parno, I am absolutely convinced that you and I can open the large airlock and thus avoid being murdered by the ghost. Would you like to escape through the translation arena’s interchange domain now?”
“I’d rather have more kisses.”
“Oh, you are stupid,” she said, then reached to pull his beard. “No more kisses until we step foot on pink sand.”
Kathlynn returned to that panel with the conglomerate shapes. Instead of pressing both palms against
the surface, she tapped it with her toe, scarcely moving her foot. The Earthers entered the ribbon together. Parno was surprised that she did not run ahead.
“Where are we going and why?” he asked.
“There should be some environ abettors in the closet.”
“What does that mean?”
“Please, Parno,” she scowled. “A closet is a little room where one stores miscellaneous items.”
“You’re a smart ass,” he told her.
“Better a smart ass than a dumb ass,” she smirked. “Parno, the airlock will not open to inhabitants unless they are properly protected. At least one of us has to be standing by the inner door wrapped in either an abettor or a retainer.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Why, function retainers retain inhabitants while they perform a function. Environ abettors are akin to our ground suits, or vacuum suits. Function retainers are more like space armor. But I’m very sure that we can move the abettors.”
“Why have we only seen ‘inhabitants’ in their work duds and not their play suits?” Parno wondered.
“We have seen both, in a manner,” Kathlynn offered. “The difference is seen in their deaths. Those in abettors are seen as ash remains. The function suits, however, are strong enough to retain the indigenes’ flames. Had I known that before, I would not have allowed you to slip the headpiece on that function retainer in the garden.”
“The greenhouse is a garden?” Parno asked.
“I think so,” Kathlynn said uncertainly. “That’s just a verbal translation, a word. More important is that I get my facts straight. I hope I have my facts straight. Parno, I have confidence in data that come to me readily,” she added. “Other ideas come as, oh, bad memory. I hope I have my facts straight.”
As the conveyor’s wall opened and the ribbon slipped Parno and Kathlynn inside, the Earthers leaned backward, necks tilted, staring upward. They thought the chamber’s contents would collapse on them. They saw an inorganic landscape of complex shapes and modern materials, alien complases and metalettes. Mounds of curved, glistening auto-sized objects sat beside a forest of squared alien armoires with multiple squat appendages. A hill of flattened spheres bordered a seemingly random assortment of steely sticks and open tubes evidently coated with a fuzzy fabric. The hills and mountains of this closet extended thirty strange paces to the ceiling.
