The Farpool_Exodus

by Philip Bosshardt

  “Well, I’m not worried. You did the right thing, visiting your parents like this. I’m proud of you, whatever happens.”

  “Thanks…now where the hell did I—” Then he saw a dull black carapace gleaming in the late afternoon sunlight, rolling gently among some cypress knees and branches at the mouth of the Croc’s Corner swamp, fronting out toward Shell Key and the Gulf. From a distance, it looked like a sea turtle’s shell but it was no turtle. Warm, languid waves lapped over the canopy of the little sled. “—there she is. Come on, let’s get going. We’ve got quite a hike back to Keenomsh’pont.”

  They climbed in and situated themselves for the trip. Chase powered the jets up, rocked them away from the tangle of brush and vine and sought the deeper waters of the Gulf offshore. He let the kip’t taste scents, hunting for the right course, then settled onto a southerly heading, bearing several hundred miles away toward the Florida Keys and the long rolling swells of the deeper Atlantic.

  A two-day, maybe three-day trip, at least. With Angie now snoring lightly against his shoulder from the rear seat, he let the kip’t nose onto the proper scent trail and shifted to auto. Then he sank back and closed his eyes, hearing only the faint whoosh of the water gliding over their hull. Outside, they were near the very bottom of the pelagic zone, in near total black, gliding across the eastern Gulf only a few beats above the seabed. Pinpricks of light and gaping jaws of razor-like teeth dimly illuminated were faintly visible, the only real life at this depth.

  Chase knew he had a hell of a lot to think about.

  Keenomsh’pont

  The Muir Seamount, near Bermuda

  October 6, 2115

  Likteek seemed perplexed, almost at a loss for words. The old scientist stared in through the translucent fingers of the Notwater pod at someone he thought he knew well, but now there was this. How to explain this?

  “Eekoti Chase, Kel’metah Chase, you never told us you were doing this…reversing the em’took. This will take some getting used to. This is—I have no words for this…you know the Metah is coming to see for herself.” Likteek expelled some bubbles in exasperation. “No one can believe this.”

  Likteek’s voice seemed strained and distant, coming through echopods that were part of the Notwater enclosure. As Chase climbed into his mobilitor and helped Angie with hers, he knew there was no good answer for the scientist.

  “Likteek…I can explain…it was just something I had to do—”

  “Eekoti Chase, this is beyond understanding…I thought you had found Ke’shoo in your life, had you not? Found Ke’lee, you were Seomish in so many ways. Now—this—”

  “Likteek, let me—”

  “So many respected you.”

  Likteek’s words were interrupted by a stronger voice, a female voice. It was the Metah.

  “Kel’metah Chase, I demand an explanation for this.”

  Through the fuzzy translucence of the pod’s ‘fingers,’ Chase could see the gray-white beak of Mokleeoh, its ritual scarring plainly visible.

  “Affectionate Metah—”

  But she had no more use for words. “Put on your gear. We roam together, with the Kel’em.”

  Chase did as he was told.

  Once he and Angie were fully clad in the mobilitors, the Notwater pod walls were collapsed, slowly so as to avoid damage from the inrushing wall of water. Angie’s eyes widened but she stayed outwardly calm as the waters quickly swirled over their heads, Chase’s firm hand on her shoulders. When it was done, Chase helped her light off her propulsors and the two of them found themselves escorted by court prodsmen to catch up with the Kel’em in vish’tu. The roam was already underway and the prodsmen expertly guided Chase and Angie, now on their own jet power, to the front of the pack.

  Mokleeoh was angry. Chase could see that in the way she stroked so vigorously, first this way, then that way, snapping her tail flukes with each cycle. He was glad he’d never developed much ability to pulse inside Seomish bodies…likely, it wouldn’t have been pretty.

  “Kel’metah Chase, you have broken a sacred bond with the kelke. Now, who will trust you…you’re not one of us anymore…almost Tailless you’ve become.”

  Chase was thankful for the propulsors. No way would he have been able to keep up otherwise. He saw or somehow sensed that Mokleeoh was deliberately leading the roam above and around the settlement, so that everyone could pulse what had happened. He couldn’t see or really hear anything, but he could well imagine the muttering below, the curses, the confusion, the disbelief. It had been hard enough to make the decision to revert back; now he’d hurt so many of them….

  “Honorable Metah…I…” what could he say now? These were his friends. He had been through so much with them. Kel conflicts. Seamothers. Mah’jeet blooms. Ponkti treachery. Taking the mekli priestesses hostage. The Tailless torpedo weapons the Ponkti had brought back from an earlier time stream. “Affectionate Metah, I made a difficult decision.”

  “It is betrayal,” she decided. Nearby, Chase realized both Likteek and old Manklu, the kip’t driver, were roaming with them.

  Manklu’s words were acid. “Duplicity, Metah. Infidelity. When a kip’t goes bad, we fix it. When a pal’penk strays, we re-train it…or send it away to die. This is worse. There aren’t words for this—”

  “We trusted you,” Likteek insisted, huffing with the exertion.

  The roam twisted and turned, often abruptly, as if the vish’tu couldn’t make up its mind what to do. Bodies appeared out of nowhere, flitted by and were gone. It seemed all of Keenomsh’pont had arisen to roam with the Metah for short distances.

  Chase was determined that they understand, even though he didn’t understand it himself. Angie somehow managed to brush a few fingers against his legs, saying I’m here, Chase…I support you.”

  “I am Tailless!” he finally blurted out. “I can’t help what I am. I’m human…I’m not like you. I never wanted to be Kel’metah. I just wanted—” so what did he want? “I just wanted to be accepted…to be appreciated…to be taken seriously.” There, he’d said it. But this wasn’t Mack Meyer stroking along just in front of him. This was Mokleeoh, Metah of Omt’or.

  He felt like he’d let down his best friends. Like he’d swatted their dachshund Scamp on the behind, for nothing. Like he and Angie had been caught making love in his canoe at Half Moon Cove, which had actually happened, damn those stupid freakin’ shrimpers—

  “Perhaps it is an illness,” suggested Likteek. “This happens when you spend too much time in the Notwater…a form of poisoning can occur…the blood becomes infected

  --”

  “I’m not sick!” Chase cried out. “I made—” he lowered his voice, so that it was barely audible over the rush of the water. His echopod managed to amplify it just enough to be heard. “I’m not ill, I’m telling you.” How many synonyms were there for guilt…blame, fault, responsibility. Were there no pills he could take? I’m not responsible for these people for Christ’s sake…I’m human. I’m Tail—I’m human, damn it!

  “Now who will keep us together?” said Likteek. “The kels fight all the time, we’re pulling ourselves apart.”

  Before Chase could ask the question, Mokleeoh explained. “Lektereenah made the announcement yesterday…it’s all over the repeaters, all over this cursed world. The Ponkti are leaving.”

  “Leaving?” Chase said. “Leaving for where…what’s happened?”

  “The Ponkti are leaving Keenomsh’pont, all of them. Most of them. They roam to the far seas…their new settlement at Ponkel’te. It is said they may try to return to Seome…through the time device…the new Farpool that the Coethi, the m’jeete have built. It’s a disaster…it can’t work.”

  “Insane,” Likteek agreed.

  “They will die, all of them,” decided Manklu. “I’m not really upset by it. The new farpool is untested.”

  Chase felt as if something had slammed him in the head. The Ponkti, Lektereenah. Tulcheah, perhaps? No. NO! NONONO!!

 
“Affectionate Metah, if I am still Kel’metah, let me prove it. Drop me off in the Ponkti quarter. Let me speak with them. They may listen…if the Ponkti leave now, who will be next?”

  “Probably the Sk’ort,” Manklu said.

  “The kels have to stay together,” Chase warned them. “Humans—Tailless—can’t be trusted. I should know…I’m one of them.”

  “And now we know we can’t trust you either,” Manklu said.

  “Listen to me…if the kels fly apart and try to live alone, separated from each other, the humans will slowly destroy all of them. That’s what we do. We hunt competitors to extinction…we always have…it’s in our blood…it’s in our history. The only way for the Seomish to survive on Earth—on Urku—is to stay together. Live and grow as one. It’s the best way, the only way.”

  Mokleeoh decided. “We should let Kel’metah Chase try talking with the Ponkti…we lose nothing if he tries.” She darted off in a new direction and the roam turned in unison to follow. There was some jostling and re-positioning as the pack settled onto a new course. After a few minutes, the Metah announced, “The Ponkti are below us…you can pulse the kelke swarming about, preparing for departure. Prodsmen, guide Kel’metah down into that stew and see that he is safe.”

  “At once, Affectionate Metah.”

  Strong hands grabbed Chase and Angie and steered them firmly away from the main roam. They were diving, descending, corkscrewing deeper and it wasn’t long before Chase could see the dim outlines of a great frenzy of people flitting about, packing kip’ts, loading up pal’penk and tillet trains, shoving sacs and pods and slings of belongings about the seabed. Silt and sediment drifted about in clouds and the bubble curtains foamed vigorously, as they were near the settlement perimeter.

  The prodsmen guided Chase and Angie unerringly to a small knot of people atop a low ridge, overseeing the chaos. Lektereenah was there, surrounded by her own prodsmen, who challenged the Omtorish soldiers, but let them pass when they saw Kel’metah Chase among them.

  Lektereenah was hovering over a small open cargo sling, trying to decide how items should be stowed. Loptoheen was there. Chase hoped to find Tulcheah…a few moments later, the Ponkti half-breed showed up too, slyly orbiting the gathering, flirting with a few of the prodsmen.

  Lektereenah greeted Chase. “I heard the repeaters’ songs. You will be Kel’metah no longer…already Mokleeoh has put out a new call, to all Metahs, all Kel’em. Eekoti Chase, you are a disgrace.”

  Chase figured being called a disgrace by a Ponkti leader was like being called slimy by a mah’jeet bloom. “I came when I heard…you’re leaving Keenomsh’pont?”

  “There’s nothing here for Ponkti…nothing but treachery, insults, deceit and betrayal. We had this on Seome. Here in new waters, in the far seas, perhaps Urku will give us a new chance.”

  Chase went over the same arguments he’d made to Mokleeoh. “You can’t survive alone here. The Tailless will annihilate you, all of you. Maybe not today, but eventually. It’s how we are, Metah. It’s our nature.”

  Lektereenah seethed. “Well, eekoti Chase, you should know. We already have agreements with Tailless allies in the far seas. Ponkti are clever. We can exploit this new alliance. They will help us develop Ponkel’te. Help us learn how to use the m’jeete device, the time manipulator. In time, I foresee the Ponkti returning to Seome someday, to our ancestral waters, in a new time, before the great ak’loosh came. Then we will truly rule the seas…there won’t be any Omtorish around to oppose us.”

  Chase said, “If you pull away and live in the far seas, soon there won’t be any Ponkti either. Affectionate Metah, perhaps I’m no longer pulsed as Kel’metah, but I am human. You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

  Lektereenah was impatient to organize the roam and get going. She spied Tulcheah orbiting just above them. “Tulcheah kim, come down here. Talk sense into this poor Tailless midling. I have work to do.”

  At that, the Metah scooted off to examine the preparations of her people, give them encouragement, organize the roam into proper sections for the long trip to the Pacific.

  Tulcheah drifted down and confronted Chase. She tried nuzzling, but Chase would have none of it. Angie glided over to intervene as well, firmly tugging Chase away.

  “To reverse the em’took,” she chided him, “such a thing has never happened before. We’re all confused…you’re clearly ill, eekoti Chase. Just look at you in that big suit. It’s the strange currents of Urku. Strange waters, perhaps the m’jeete…or some substance.”

  Chase snorted. He knew that wouldn’t be translated by the suit echopod but he didn’t care. “Tulcheah, I’m just trying to knock some sense into these people. Don’t you understand…you’re emigrants here. Newbies. Foreigners, on Urku. My race doesn’t take too kindly to immigrants, especially intelligent ones from other worlds. You threaten them. When humans are threatened, they lash out. They destroy what’s threatening.”

  “Then we will teach them Seomish ways,” she decided. “Ke’shoo and ke’lee, they can learn this…Shooki will teach them.”

  “Trust me, humans don’t know or even care one whit about Shooki. They care about territory. They care about family. They care about prospering their own kind, at the expense of others.”

  Tulcheah felt her own Ponkti blood running hot. “Ponkti can take care of ourselves. Haven’t we done this on Seome…rather than be wiped out by you Omtorish, or treated like pets?”

  Now Angie interjected, “Hey, girl, he’s just trying to help you. Give you some advice. Why don’t you just listen, for once?”

  Tulcheah was incensed at her outburst. “Human females…they should learn manners. There is really nothing more to say, eekoti Chase. Ponkti don’t respect you any more…one who becomes Kel’metah and then gives it up for…this--?” She sneered at Angie with scarcely concealed contempt. “I have work to do.”

  “Tulcheah—”

  But the Ponkti half-breed darted off in a huff and was gone.

  “Let her go,” Angie declared. “She’s just trash…worthless slut.”

  “How would you know?” Chase asked.

  “Believe me, I know the type. I’ve seen enough of them around school.”

  For a few moments, Chase and Angie maneuvered in and among the Ponkti as they loaded up their sleds and pack trains. Excitement, energy, anxiety, all of it was just as palpable as the currents washing across the seabed. They felt like they had been caught in an inexorable tide.

  The great roam to the far seas would be departing in a short time. Already, the repeaters and the Kel’em leaders of the kel were singing the gathering songs, calling all the kelke of Ponk’t to assemble. Dozens, then scores, then hundreds of silver and gray bodies darkened the waters as the crowds descended on the edge of the Ponkti zone, spreading out laterally along the inside of the bubble curtains. Chase could hear the murmuring and the singing and the shouting and the swearing and the laughing, but his echopod couldn’t translate it all, so thick was the noise.

  Finally, slowly, he and Angie made their way against the onrushing tide of people back to the Omtorish zone.

  “What are we doing now?” Angie asked. They rose above the crowded lower levels of the settlement, above the tents and huts and shacks that had been home to hundreds of Omtorish from the time of the Kel’vishtu and headed without thinking toward the base of the seamount, toward the Labs and the Academy caves.

  “I need to follow them,” Chase had already decided, almost at the moment he said it. “To the far seas.”

  “What? Are you nuts? Aren’t we talking about the Pacific Ocean…that’s thousands of miles from here. It would take days, maybe weeks. They said you’re no longer Kel’metah either—whatever that is. You don’t have to do this. Chase, let’s go home. Let’s get out of here. These aren’t our people. This isn’t our place. Home is back in Florida, the school, the hospital. The surf and board shop.”

  But Chase wasn’t so sure. “Angie, home is where your heart is�
�I know that sounds corny but it’s true, damn it. I’m just not sure where my heart is. But I know I have to go with them…maybe I can help…keep the Ponkti from trusting the Chinese and the Russians too much. Now, we have to find a kip’t…a long-range sled. That’s the only way we’ll be able to keep up.”

  Angie’s own heart sank with his words. “You told me you went through that fish doctor’s procedure for me…now this? I don’t understand you at all, Chase Meyer. Maybe that Ponkti whore’s right…you’re just sick. All this insanity has gone to your head.”

  “Very possible, Ang…very possible. But this I gotta do…my dad always said ‘do the right thing.’ This feels right…look, there’s Likteek, heading into the Lab. Maybe he’ll still help us.”

  Chase dove down, Angie right behind them and they cruised hopefully up to the Lab cave entrance and approached the old scientist, startling him.

  Dr. Josey Holland Lifelogger Post:

  Well, at least the conicthyosis procedure went pretty well, better even than I had expected. This girl’s still got something upstairs. I haven’t completely lost my mind. It took some doing, what with all the genetic work, managing the nanobotic intervention, the configuration changes, and the bacterial templates. I don’t know who came up with the original procedure—Chase Meyer called them Seomish-- but it became clear to me early on that the baseline genotype for the original modifications was purely marine vertebrate morphology, physiology and anatomy. The Seomish scientists did the best they could with human anatomy and physiology in creating the original procedure but it wasn’t a perfect fit, which was plainly evident from the genetics.