“I can hardly wait.”
“You seek to end the threat of the Cleinoids?”
“I believe duh is the best response I can come up with.”
“Then do so by destroying the power that is the Cleinoids.”
“Isn't that what we're doing ever so ineffectively?”
“No. Listen. You are fighting the Cleinoids individually. Instead eradicate the source of their power. What, I ask you, Jon Ryan, is an immortal god without power called?”
“I give up. What do you call one of those?”
“Dead.”
“That would be convenient. What's the source of their power, you know, so we might destroy it?”
“Must I lead you by the nose?”
“Sure.”
“What power sustains and imbues the Clein-oids? Clein, my simple friend. Destroy the Clein and you destroy the Clein-oids.”
“Where and what is the Clein?”
“Ah ah, spoiler alert. I've told you more than I should.” He raised a finger. “Find the Clein and destroy it, and you will end the threat you face.”
Then Vorioc literally disappeared.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
I was sitting in the ship's mess staring at a room temperature mug of coffee when Sapale and Mirraya walked in. Great. Two women with long faces looking at yours truly. A finger down my throat and a soap suds enema would have been preferable in my book. They slid in across from me.
“We think we need to talk,” said Sapale tenderly with all the love in her heart.
“You two? Cool, I'll just get out of earshot and you gals have at it.” I stood.
“He always acts like this,” stated a frustrated Sapale.
“We know,” Mirri responded, resting her hand on the back of Sapale's. “Supportive listening and long fuses. Remember, we agreed?”
Sapale looked to the heavens for strength. “I know. He just did it so quick this time.”
“Supportive listening,” I said to my wife. “Remember?”
“Can I kill him and then we do the intervention?” pleaded my forever love.
“No. Not unless,” Mirraya glared directly at me, “he does it one more time.”
“Do y'all need me to sit back down?” I asked as naively as I could. I even pointed to my chair. That's how helpful I was laboring to be.
“Yes, Uncle. Please.”
I sat with a grunt.
“May I get us all some coffee?” asked Mirri graciously. For the record she detested coffee. Talk about laboring to be helpful.
“Sure. Probably be here a while,” I grumbled.
“Not if you're dead, my love,” responded Sapale. “It will all be over in a flash if you press your luck any harder or farther.” She smiled so ingenuously.
I lowered my head in resignation.
“We've noticed you've been in an extended funk of late, Uncle. We were hoping you’d pull out of the nosedive so we let it be. But it's been a week since our escape from Bellicity and you still sulk.”
“And do not even think of asking which it is, a funk or sulk,” warned my mate, who knew me way too well.
I shrugged as if I didn't understand the language she was speaking.
“What's the matter, Uncle?”
I shrugged again, this time more moodily.
“Come on, you can do it,” invited Sapale. “I know you're the little engine who can.”
“What happened to supportive listening?” I asked.
“I believe it does not preclude taunting a reluctant child to participate,” she replied with a fake grin. Boy did I hitch my wagon to a spirited filly.
“Uncle, please. We're all in this together. We all want to know the problem.”
“To be fully forthcoming, Toño said he should just place you in sleep mode and attach you to the Als. He felt it was a much more merciful approach from our standpoint,” observed my spouse.
Mirri set a hand on Sapale again. “But we said we would discuss the matter and that you would be cooperative.”
“Based on what past actions or documented inclinations on my part?” I inquired.
Sapale's hands balled up. Yes! Got her.
“Uncle Jon, behave.”
Yeah, I shrugged yet again. I did shrugging really well, I had to say.
The two of them tried a desperate gambit. They sat silently and waited for me to open my heart. They knew I'd see the gauntlet thrown down. They knew I loved being difficult. But, they were the two women in my life and they cared deeply about me. I knew that too. Plus, worst of all, they were correct. I was in a dark place, had been all week.
“I'm getting a little discouraged,” I admitted quietly.
“There, I told you he could,” said Mirraya proudly.
“You win. I'll clean the ship for the next week.”
“Some supportive intervention,” I complained.
“What is it that discourages you, Uncle?”
I hemmed and hawed a bit. “I'm beginning to think we can't defeat the Cleinoids.”
“Here or back home?” asked Sapale.
“Both. Everywhere.” I swept an angry hand in an arc. “Everyone everywhere.”
“It's not like you to give up, brood-mate.”
“It's not like I've ever faced an enemy like this before.” I sighed deeply. “We know we can't hold our own in our universe. I've learned we can't really effect their numbers here.” I shook my head. “It's just a matter of time. I'm betting you two know it also. No matter how long you hold on to a losing hand, in the end you're still going to lose.”
“Jon, in two billion years something has always come up. We're lucky that way. Come on, admit it,” prompted my dear sweet wife.
“We took out the vortex but it was already too late. The only thing we managed to do was disappoint the ancient gods who couldn't partake of the fun times.”
“Possibly,” responded Mirraya.
“And it's only a matter of time until they find, create, or are gifted a new vortex. Somehow they got DS and somehow they'll get another. Then … then I don't think I need to finish that thought.”
They were both quiet. I almost commented on the two silent women thing, but I let it pass. I was all out of silly.
“If we die fighting, doing the right thing, so be it,” declared Sapale.
I could only continue to shake my head. I hated pointless.
“Isn't this the point in the conversation you say your oorah thing?” asked Mirri.
“Got no oorahs left in me.”
“Then we do have a problem, Houston,” Sapale said harshly.
“Huh?” I grunted.
“My brood-mate is not a pansy-assed quitter. If you are then you're not him any longer.”
“Supportive listening is officially out the window, I see.”
“You bet your sweet ass it is, Ryan,” thundered Sapale. “If you're tossing in the towel get the hell off my vortex.”
I knew way better than to respond. My mate was hotheaded. When she was that pissed, a hunker-down approach was the only survivable response.
“Uncle Jon, hang in here with us. We'll think of something. Can you do that for us?” She turned to Sapale and swung her head in my direction.
“Sorry. I exploded there a little, didn't I?” Sapale responded. “Jon, I love you. Always have, always will. We all do. I feel it in my bones, honey. We will win. We will think of something.”
“Okay, you two win. I'll stop moping.”
“When?” Sapale replied with such a wicked grin.
“Soon,” I responded.
“Not soon enough. Grow up now.”
If we ever got out of the Charlie foxtrot we were trapped in, I was going to see to it my wife took a supportive listening class. Maybe several.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Jon sat in the dark cloister he'd been assigned by Seven Ways, the Liolipod monk he'd contacted to learn about the Stone Witches. It took a herculean effort, but he finally got her to agree to let him return to study another topic—Clein
, whatever the hell that was. He'd employed his limited charm, threats, incantations, transfigurations, and skullduggery, but he'd won the right to do his research.
That was six months ago. He'd asked every monk, visiting scholar, janitor, and delivery person for help. No one had one clue what the Clein was. Seven Ways was so tired of Jon badgering her for information she'd taken to violently assaulting him whenever he dared ask. He'd lost an eye twice and a hand as reminders not to bother the bitch.
Still, after all that time he found no single clue as to what Clein was, might be, or if it even existed. The Stone Witch could have been playing Jon. That would be in character for the consummate narcissistic jerkwads. But if there was one hope in the haystack of existence in catching that big a break, Jon had to follow up. So desperate was he, Jon even tried unsuccessfully to contact Phassor. No response even came. Dude had gone to ground like a frightened gopher.
It was finally time for Jon to admit he was going to discover nothing about Clein, not in this universe. There were rare and unhelpful references to the Cleinoid gods, but not one syllable about the alleged whatever that powered them. It was painfully clear. No information about Clein resided in this universe. Most likely, logically, it was located in their universe, the one Jon had so defiantly refused to travel to. Hence he had no clue how to get there even if his ship could make the jump. If he could access the Cleinoidverse, he could not only seach for the mystical crap, but he could alert the others about it. That native woman, Daleria, she might even know what it was and where to find it. Presumably it powered her, so, duh, she'd be well aware of it.
But thinking about how to go to a universe unknown to him was hopeless. It was akin to trying to think the sun into rising backward. He couldn't send a message either, because where would he send it? Everywhere in this universe and all others? Yeah, no problem. That would require enough broadcast energy to vaporize the surrounding thousand parsecs, not to mention it was multiple times the energy Jon could potentially even summon.
There was no way he could join or aid the others. If they returned he'd sense it, but why would they return? They wouldn't. They'd fight to the death, which was what they probably already had done. If they'd successfully negated the Clein, the monsters ripping this universe to shreds would die. So the great and powerful Jon Ryan had failed. If he hadn't yet, it was only a matter of time. All Jon's magic training was of zero use. Deft magic was limited to just this universe.
Well, it was, wasn't it? It was not designed to send Jon to another universe. But could he use it to contact Mirraya? Sending a complex message was out of the question. Even a short, nonspecific transmission was impossible. But was there a way he could contact her, if only faintly and fleetingly? Perhaps. If there wasn't, all his efforts were for naught.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
I perked up a bit after my pep talk from Sapale and Mirri. That was good. The problem I began to notice was that for every stumbling step I made forward, Mirraya seemed to tumble backward. She was less cheerful, observant, and engaged. Tonight Slapgren had made an unsuccessful attempt to lure her into an amorous encounter. I could tell by the noise and his rising level of effort that resulted in Mirri leaving their room to share a cup of coffee with me. Yeah, remember how much she hates coffee? For once in who knew how long, he was separate from his mate and wanted to play a little slap and tickle. But she was clearly in no mood to accede to his inclinations. Poor Slapgren. As a dude I felt his pain.
Well, turn-around fair play was a bitch. That evening it was coming at her in the form of Councillor Jon Ryan. “You seem, ah, kind of down lately. I've recently learned how to be a supportive listener.” I gave her my cat-eating-shit grin she always hated to see.
“Oh you have, have you?”
“I'm a Level-Three Interventionist already. Yeah, did a subspace course.”
“Subspace classes on supportive listening? Where, pray tell, do those originate from?”
“Uranus.”
She snickered coffee out her nose.
“You set me up pretty good, kiddo.”
“Too well. When will I learn?”
“So, seriously, what's up?”
“Nothing, Uncle. I'm fine.”
“Fine would've let Slappy get his rocks off. Poor SOB's starving and you refused him a proper meal. No, you're not fine. Never BS a BSer.”
“Seriously, Jon, it is nothing.”
“Ah, then it is a thing. If it's a thing, it's a thing. A thing you can tell me about.”
“How can you be so you so quickly?”
“Practice, practice. Now, about the thing.”
“It is nothing but it is embarrassing. So it will remain uncommunicated.”
“Embarrassing? Between you and me, I've seen you naked more than my first wife, Gloria. When you were a child no less. I was there every time you gave birth or whatever it was. Now we've come upon a taboo topic? Oh pshaw.”
“You really are obsessed with the nudity concerns. You should consider counseling.”
“Okay, I will, as soon as you tell me the thing.”
She closed her eyes firmly. “I knew I should have said nothing and turned you into a toad. When will I learn?”
“You whined that already. Now before I put you over my knee and spank the truth out, what gives?”
“I have a pain in my ass.”
I pounded a finger in the air at her. “Don't change the subject to me. Yes I am, but we're talking about you here.”
“No, Uncle Jon, I actually have a pain in my backside.” She pointed around her hip in the direction of her … well, her backside.
“Have you told Toño? He's a doctor, you know?”
“No I have not told Toño. I don't need a doctor. It's nothing. Just an irritated nerve or something.”
“Have you had an irritated nerve in your butt before?”
She shook her head.
“Have you ever heard of any Deft having an irritated nerve in their butt?”
Another negative shake.
“Nerves, you know what they do? I'll tell you . They warn you of stuff. Hey, brain, I'm hungry. Yo, brain, your left foot's on a hot coal. Say, brain, I think you might have a serious medical condition I cannot otherwise characterize. You should tell Toño.”
“Nerves say I should talk to Toño?”
“Clearly. Hey, I'm not allowed to make this crap up. I'm merely a conduit.”
“If I tell Toño, will you promise to drop it and not tell everyone else?”
“Absolutely.”
“Then I'll tell him next time I see …”
“What's the medical emergency here, Jon? I only see two people peacefully having coffee,” snarled Toño as he trotted into the room.
Ten minutes later Mirri and Toño walked back into the mess.
“There, I told you it was nothing,” Mirraya said with excessive pleasure.
“I'm not taking your word. You're a medical-condition concealer. Doc, give it to me straight, I'm the only family. How's my girl?”
“Fine. I find nothing wrong.”
“Nothing wrong. My baby's got a pain in her butt. You need to run some tests or something.”
“I did. I ran all the tests. Mirraya's healthier than a herd of horses.”
“Oh,” I mumbled.
“Oh my, that's wonderful to hear,” Mirri said on my behalf. “It also affirms my adult child's ability to know her own body.”
“He came as close to saying that as he ever will, my child,” lamented Toño.
“Then why do you have a pain where the feathers are the thinnest?” I asked. “Is it a constant pain?”
“No. It's not much more than a tickle and then it's gone.”
“Is the pain sharp, burning, needle-like?”
“Ah … ah sort of tickley-pinchy.”
“Tickley-pinchy. Doc, that's got to mean something to you.”
“Yes, she's getting older. Soon she'll be as decrepit as you are.”
“Mirri, we need to
get you a second opinion. This alleged medical provider is clearly incompetent.”
“I'm fine, Uncle. Now recall your promise.” She lowered a look at me.
“I know. But what … what causes a shapeshifter to .. hey, that's a thought. Change shapes and see if it persists.”
“I did. It does.”
“Are you sure?”
“What, that I shapeshifted or that I still have the thing?” She was moderately irritated.
“Good point. Let me ask it this way. In the magical lore of the ancient Deft brindases, what does a tickley-pinch represent?”
“It doesn't. We don't have a spell for that type of communication.”
“Maybe it's a voodoo doll and someone's sticking pins in it?” I sounded as excited as I was. It made real sense.
“That makes no sense, Uncle. There is no voodoo and there are no functional dolls with pins.”
“But you said it was a form of communication.”
“I did? Well, all spells are in a certain light.”
“No they are not,” I protested. “When you lit those Cleinoids up at the park, that was an expression of communication? Maybe, hey, I'd like to see you dead?”
“All right, some spells are …” She stopped a second. “Uncle, are you listening any longer?”
“I wasn't. I knew the diagnosis. My dear,” I said smugly, “can you name an individual who would send Mirraya/Slapgren the message, and I quote: pain in the ass?”
“You mean who thinks I'm a PIA?”
“No, no assignment of ownership. Let me put it this way. I'll say a sentence. You say the first thing that comes into your head.”
“Okay.”
“Biggest pain in the ass ever.”
“EJ.”
I opened my arms. “EJ is speaking to you. Up close and personal, it turns out.”
Mirri craned her neck around to look at her behind in light of the new insight. Not sure she was pleased.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
“I've allowed you here against all rules and tradition. You are no scholar and you are most certainly no monk of the Cloistered Tower. Worse yet, you've come up with nothing. You must leave now.” Seven Ways was actually trying to be tactful. Bless her huge heart, it just wasn't a skill set she possessed.
Torment of the Ancient Gods Page 20
