The Farpool_Exodus

by Philip Bosshardt

  “Let me explain what the term kel’metah means. Perhaps this is a phrase your echopod is not translating properly. You have an encyclopedia feature on your pod—”

  “Ah, yes, I do.” Chase knew that if he could spit out the sonic command properly, which was not so easy—“kkklllqqqkkklll—”

  Nothing happened. The echopod implanted in his neck remained silent. Chase looked up sheepishly. “I still have some troubles with this thing, I guess.”

  “Allow me,” Likteek came forward, uttered a guttural string of commands.

  “Kkkkkkllllllqqquuuq…”

  Instantly, Chase heard the pod chirp in his ear. The soft voice came, explaining what Likteek had commanded:

  “The organization of the kel is the most important hierarchy of all. Each kel differs slightly in certain details but major similarities remain. For simplicity’s sake, the House of Omt’or will serve as a good example.

  Omt’orkel claims a line of unbroken, uncontaminated descent from Omt’or, Daughter of Shooki and from its First Mortals, Kreedake and Pomel. Since descent is figured matrilineally, the eldest female of the kel is the nominal head of the family and thus chief of state, designated the Metahshooklet, or Metah (the One who lives in God). In most instances, the Metah designates a younger person to take responsibility for major decisions. In Omt’or, this choice is traditionally the eldest and most sexually productive female of the largest em’kel.

  Each em’kel selects one male and one female to represent its interests before the appointed chief, who is called the Mektoo. The combined assembly of em’kel representatives is called the Kel’emtah, or Kel’em (literally, the “family of the Mother”). It meets once every mah in each city of the kel and all kelke (citizens, members of the family) have the right to petition the Kel’em at these gatherings for redress of grievances.”

  Chase listened awhile longer, then managed to turn the thing off. He’d never really gotten the hang of commanding his echopod to give up facts and figures.

  “This tells me about the Metah, like Mokleeoh and Lektereenah. But you mentioned something called Kel’metah.”

  “Exactly,” Likteek said. “Only once before in recorded history has there been Kel’metah. It came in the Epoch of Ma’ket, many thousands of metamah before us. A great mah’jeet bloom swept the world.”

  “The toxic critters?”

  “Exactly. No single kel could fight the mah’jeet off…they covered the entire world, all the waters. So the kels gathered and appointed a Kel’metah…a kind of grandmother, if I understand your words…to coordinate our actions. Eventually, the kels were able to cooperate enough to disperse the bloom and restore the waters. This took a long time.” Likteek seemed somber at the memory. “Many died. To this day, we monitor the mah’jeet closely for any recurrence.”

  Chase said, “Well, there shouldn’t be any of that here, not on Earth. Of course, we have sharks and other things.”

  “Yes…we do have much to learn about Urku. Now, my eekoti friend, we must get you ready to meet with the Metahs in assembly. There will be a ceremony, then a great roam, if it can be organized. After that, you will join with each Metah in turn.”

  Chase wondered what ‘join’ actually meant. His echopod offered no other definition. “What do you mean ‘join’?”

  “As you join with Tulcheah…and other females. I believe you say ‘coupling’?”

  Chase swallowed hard. “You mean, we—” he wiggled his body back and forth.

  “Yes, this is the meaning. A great honor. After this, you will be named Kel’metah.”

  Great tribal chief, Chase thought to himself. I hope Angie doesn’t hear about this. And really, the prospect didn’t exactly appeal to him. Mokleeoh was attractive enough, if a bit mature. He knew Lektereenah was fiery and vigorous. But the others: Oolandra, Okeemah…he didn’t know them all that well, except by name and reputation.

  “Likteek, I’m not sure about all this. Me, Chase Meyer, eekoti Chase, a kind of super-Metah? There must be lots of people better qualified than me…like you, for instance.”

  “Not so,” Likteek insisted. “You are not of any kel, though you spend much time with Omt’or. The kels…and the Metahs…all trust you in a way they don’t—and can’t—trust anyone else, certainly not each other. True, there is no obvious threat we face, except that of Urku in general. But the Tailless…the Umans, your people, Chase, we don’t understand them and we don’t know what they think of us. As Kel’metah, you can speak for us with the Umans. You must do this…if you don’t—” here, Likteek looked away. Even as poorly as he pulsed, Chase could tell the despondent anxiety that had come over the scientist “—then we have no future here.”

  Chase sucked in his breath. “I’ll give it a try. That’s all I can do. But I need to go see Tulcheah…right now. I need her for—well, let’s just say we’ve become soulmates.”

  Likteek was puzzled as the word soulmate didn’t translate well, but Chase just laughed. “Don’t worry about it, Lik. It’s just an expression. I’m off now…gotta go find Tulcheah.” And he left the Lab caves and headed outside, sniffing and pulsing as best he could, pushing through knots of people as he hunted his soulmate down.

  He found Tulcheah with her own em’kel—he’d never been able to pronounce it—two-thirds of the way up the slopes of the seamount, on the other side of the guyot, from the Lab, nestled in the brow of an outcrop shaped like an upturned hand, a human hand. It was partitioned with bubble curtains and cradled a small hydrothermal vent in the very ‘palm’ of the hand, that gave a fizzy quality to the water, as well as lending heat and some smoky silt to the nest.

  Chase nosed his way carefully through the bubble curtain. What else could you do? There weren’t any doorbells. Inside, the mostly female em’kel was engaged in some kind of bite-the-tail horseplay and Chase found himself knocked and bumped and shoved aside several times as he came in.

  The females noticed him and stopped their circling, then came at him, playfully nipping. One said, “Looking for Tulcheah, eekoti? Sniffing a good time, is that it?”

  Chase came deeper into the berth hold and spied a stacked layer of small coves on the other side of the vent column, a writhing snake of smoke and heat right in the center. Through the silt and turbulent water, he could see most of the coves were occupied. Couplings and nuzzlings were the order of the day. In the dim light, he could see bodies flash and tumble inside the coves. Grunts and chirps and squeaks filled his ears.

  Jeez, it’s a whorehouse. No wonder Tulcheah’s always ‘on.’

  A voice whispered in his ears. “She’s up there, center top. But Kaleema’s there too. You’ll make a fine trio—”

  Chase scooted off and found Tulcheah where the female had indicated. The Ponkti-Omtorish halfling was cuddling with another female—said to be Kaleema—herself an athletic younger girl, decorated with some kind of necklace of teeth around her front dorsal and ritual scarring along her sides.

  Tulcheah sniffed when Chase appeared. “Don’t be shy, eekoti…come in, come in. There’s room. Kaleema likes your smell.”

  I’ll bet, Chase thought. “Tulcheah, can we talk? You and me? Maybe, away from here?”

  Something like a heavy sigh escaped her mouth and she roughly shoved Kaleema out of the cove with a grunt. Kaleema growled and clicked in annoyance, glared at Chase, pulsed him good and stalked off, swimming with exaggerated strokes to the other side of the hold.

  Chase stuck his head inside. The smell was overpowering.

  “Come, come. I know what you want…it’s written all over your insides. The water’s warm in here, just right.”

  “I need to talk with you. Maybe a little roam…outside?”

  Tulcheah was half Ponkti, half-Omtorish but she wore her feelings where even a Uman male could figure them out. Chase didn’t need to pulse her to see the exasperation…and the disappointment.

  “What…my smells aren’t good enough for you? Eekoti want everything their own way. Chase, you surpris
e me. All the time. Maybe that’s why I like roaming with you…and coupling. Someday, you’ll have to show me what Tailless males do for their mates.”

  Not physically possible, sweetie. “No coupling right now. There’s something I want to discuss with you.”

  Tulcheah turned momentarily serious. “That you’re about to become Kel’metah? Is this it?”

  “How did…oh, never mind. Come on…let’s go outside.” Nothing stayed secret for long among the Seomish.

  So they left the em’kel hold and scooted off to more distant waters.

  Chase stroked as hard as he could but Tulcheah was a vigorous swimmer and effortlessly shot through the turbulent waters that burbled around the upper reaches of the Muir seamount. She toyed with him a bit, circling back from time to time, nipping at his feet and sides, until at last she had pity on him and slowed down for his sake. They orbited the seamount until they reached the summit eddies, still hundreds of feet below the surface, where the waters and the currents mixed in rough, chaotic flow and the upper flanks of the mountain were studded with folds and overhangs carved out by the scouring of the waves over eons of time.

  Here, Tulcheah stopped beneath one overhang and grabbed Chase by his feet, pulling him close. One forepaddle found his claspers and he shivered with delight. He tried to fight her off, but not really…the feeling was so intense and she knew just where to touch and where to pull. He let the ecstasy go on for awhile, but she noticed he wasn’t participating so much, so she stopped after a time and cocked her head.

  “You really are troubled, eekoti. I can pulse it. In Ponk’t, we say m’opuh jee’ot…your bubbles are at war with themselves. What is it?”

  Chase tried to collect himself. “Tulcheah, I don’t know. This whole kel’metah business…I don’t think I’m the right one. They should pick somebody else.”

  Tulcheah nuzzled her beak around his face and lips. Chase had a mental image of a shark eating a frog and quickly put that out of mind. “There is no one else. The kels are always fighting each other. They can’t agree on anything.”

  “But I’m not like you…look at me. I’m half Seomish and half human.”

  “It’s because you are not like us…that’s why the kelke trust you. Look at me. I’m half Ponkti and half Omtorish. Not really accepted by either kel. Be proud of what you are and accept that Shooki has brought you to this point. The currents go where they will…even on Urku.”

  “Yeah, on Urku…we say Earth…people don’t get along very well either. This kel’metah ceremony…Likteek said I had to make love with all the metahs, one after another.”

  This brought what Chase thought was a smile to Tulcheah’s face, though with Seomish females, you could never tell.

  “And this does not please you…” the timber of her voice, translated through his echopod, changed noticeably, going lower. “It’s said that Lektereenah is quite the lover…perhaps you should be concerned.”

  Was that a laugh, he heard? Or maybe a snort?

  “It’s not funny. I’ve never done this before…I don’t know what to do.”

  Now Tulcheah was curious, continuing her sniffing and nuzzling around his face and neck. Once in a while, she rubbed against a clasper…accidentally on purpose, he was sure. Tulcheah knew exactly what she was doing.

  “Your females, they please you in many ways?”

  “We do it differently here. Hard to describe, kind of.” He thought back to the times he and Angie had made love in his canoe in Half Moon Cove. When you caught the swells just right and the rhythms matched, oh my God…

  Tulcheah pressed the point, so Chase gave her a little show and tell about how such things were done among the Tailless. The em’took modifications had altered too many things to show her everything, but he tried to get the idea across.

  Tulcheah’s face showed something like disbelief. “Such should not be possible. Tailless are so different…and now you…not quite Tailless, not quite Seomish. What shall we do with you? A whole new world to explore and we don’t need an expedition to do it.”

  “That’s my whole point, Tulcheah. I’m not the same as I was. And I’m not like you either. I’m lost in two worlds.”

  “You are still eekoti Chase. Unique. There is no one else like you.”

  “Yeah, on Earth or Seome.”

  They talked and nuzzled for a while longer, then Tulcheah said, “We must get back to Keenomsh’pont. The ceremony starts at the Metah’s platform soon.”

  They swam together back to the other side of the seamount and followed the crowds.

  Mokleeoh’s servlings dressed and groomed Chase for quite some time, in a sheltered alcove just off the platform. They washed his skin, picked out dirt and silt, anointed him with all kinds of perfumes and ointments…for a time, Chase figured this was what the pharaohs went through. Nothing too good for this boy. Then he realized all the attention was at least as much for the Metah as for him.

  The vizier, Oncolenia, came to the alcove and sniffed him up and down, instructing a few changes: a little primping here, some more oil there, brush that back and see to it his eyes are stroked to a fine gloss, before pronouncing herself satisfied.

  They led Chase out to the platform and, much to his surprise, fitted him into a little sling. It was sort of like a knapsack, or a papoose, and before he realized what was happening, Mokleeoh herself appeared, decorated, ritually scarred, wearing necklaces of beads and teeth around her dorsals, fringes of something around the wrists of her forepaddles. She sniffed inside the sling.

  “Eekoti Chase, this is a special moment for Omt’or. Not since the time of Ma’ket have the people of Seome asked for Kel’metah. Now—” she looked around, swept her forepaddles in a wide circle, indicating the crowds pressing in on them and the looming bulk of the seamount beyond, “—we are in a different place. The waters of Seome are gone. We swim in new waters…the waters of Urku. But we are Seomish…here we are of Omt’or. These things must not die. The kelke have asked for a great leader to come forward…you are the Kel’metah, eekoti Chase. The currents say this. The mekli say this…I’ve consulted with them. Today, this decision is made and the bond is forged. All the Metahs are here—” that’s when Chase realized she was right. In the front of the crowd, surrounded by prodsmen and more servlings, he spied Lektereenah, some sort of half-smile on her face, and Oolandra and Okeemah and the others. They were all there. “—you will consort with each to seal the bond.”

  With that, the sling with Chase inside was attached to Mokleeoh’s underbelly and they were off. Mokleeoh was a vigorous swimmer in her own right and a few prodsmen escorted them away from the platform. They set course for the upper flanks of the seamount, the chaotic zone, Chase soon realized.

  Oh, this should be fun, he told himself.

  But before they reached the realm of the crosscurrents, Mokleeoh had done something to the sling and cinched it up tighter, closer to her own body. Chase felt the overwhelming bulk of her mass right in his face. Then he felt fingers groping along his sides, hunting, probing, until at last, they found the—

  Chase figured maybe this wasn’t so bad after all. The shivers came, along with the exquisite pressure, almost electric, he contorted and shuddered, in spite of himself. It went on for quite a few minutes, then a thought came to him:

  I should probably do something to give her a little pleasure back. But he realized he had no idea what to do. What the hell do I know about Seomish physiology? Chase had coupled with a number of Seomish females; they were pretty promiscuous people, but he’d really spent more time with Tulcheah. Maybe if I do the same thing I do with Tulcheah…how different could they be? He didn’t know what else to try. Now where is that area…that really sensitive area--?

  So he concentrated on doing what he and Tulcheah always did and was gratified to find Mokleeoh’s body beginning to quiver, even in mid-swim, to oscillate and undulate like a great wave was washing through her. For a brief moment, her great body went rigid. All the flexing and supple
muscular contractions stopped and Mokleeoh was a torpedo in the water. They coasted on momentum alone and Chase could feel the thrashing currents of the chaotic zone in right his face.

  Bingo. I think I just did something right.

  Then, as suddenly as it started, the rigid posture relaxed and Mokleeoh resumed her strong stroke again, and they were whipped and yawed by strong currents as she reached the summit of her ascent along the seamount and nosed over into a steep dive,

  Down they went and down further, swooping along the seabed and Chase caught a glimpse of rock islands, coral beds, strange patches of sea anemone and long tubular things waving in the prevailing currents. Then he saw faces. At first one or two, then a dozen, then more dozens. They were coursing their way back toward Keenomsh’pont and the kelke and in a few minutes, they nosed up to the very platform they had left. The roam had taken maybe five minutes, perhaps more, and in that time, Chase had learned more than he had in the previous few months…or mah, as the Seomish liked to say.

  He had learned the most intimate things, about himself and about the Seomish. It was as Mokleeoh had said: the currents go where they must go. As the servlings undid the catches of the sling and released him, he felt a certain---it was so hard to put into words—a certain strength, a certain force, a vigor that he’d never felt before. It wasn’t just the coupling. It was more.

  For the first time, Chase Meyer felt more Seomish than Tailless. Maybe it was the sex. Maybe it was the swim, with the musky odor of a big Seomish female right in his face. Or maybe it was the oils and ointments. The Seomish were great chemists. He couldn’t be sure they hadn’t put something in the oils to make this happen.

  Regardless, Chase scrambled out of the sling and stuck his chest out and there was a great roar among the assembled crowd, honking, squeaking, clicking and bellowing so loud he couldn’t hear himself think. He saw Tulcheah somewhere in the back and thought to move through the crowd toward her.