The Farpool

by Philip Bosshardt

  Chapter 11

  Seome

  Omsh’pont, kel: Om’t

  Time: 766.3, Epoch of Tekpotu

  Back in the great city of Omsh’pont, the travelers wound their way through a blizzard of sediment and silt loosened by the waves and the Sound, and entered the warrens of the Kelktoo. There, after some rest and a short roam to get the kinks out, an audience was organized with the Metah and her staff. Longsee handled the details.

  Elders from throughout Omt’or were invited to the Metah’s chambers. It was quickly established that destroying the wavemaker, sabotaging the Time Twister, was suicidal. Seome risked destruction from the enemy of the Umans, the Coethi, if that were done. Other ideas would have to be considered.

  The Metah’s chambers were at the apex of the central pyramid in the center of the city, between the seamounts. Longsee lok was there, so was Tamarek lu from one of the builders’ em’kels. Tulcheah kim was there too, an advisor to the Metah. She stationed herself as near to Kloosee as she could, slyly studying him from a distance. Kloosee pretended not to notice. Pakma did notice.

  It fell to Longsee to explain the failure of the eekoti mission to Kinlok.

  “The Umans are recalcitrant,” Longsee admitted. ‘They’re more concerned about their own enemy. They refuse to shut down the wavemaker.”

  The Metah, Iltereedah luk’t, sniffed at the news. She drifted serenely over her bed of glowing coral, pulsing all around, looking for deceit, anxiety, fear, calm, anything to gather a sense of what her people were saying and feeling. Shookel was nowhere to be found. No one could say there was any balance in the inner lives of the kelke these days.

  “I thought as much. You have other ideas? I’ve already ordered evacuation plans to be developed. With this—“she indicated the steady rain of dirt falling outside the platform, the rubble tracks on the seamounts, the drone and beat of the Sound, “Omsh’pont will be unlivable in a short time.”

  “Most Serene Metah,” Longsee waggled his armfins, indicating Tamarek should come forward and join him. “We have some ideas for your consideration.”

  “Don’t hold your tongue, Longsee…now is not the time.”

  “Yes, Affectionate Metah…there are two possibilities. Tamarek and others from many em’kels have been working on a new material…it’s a dense weave of tchin’ting fiber—Tamarek, bring it up, let everyone see it--.”

  Tamarek lu pulled out a swatch of the material and it was passed around from one elder to another. There were many comments, some curses, some amazed faces.

  “We propose to build a shield out of this material,” Longsee explained. “Tamarek indicates it can be fabricated in great quantity, but we’ll need help from other kels—especially the Ponkti. They know tchin’ting better than anyone.”

  Iltereedah clucked. “That could prove difficult. I’m sure Tulcheah will agree with me on that. Go on.”

  “Yes, Metah…a great shield could be built of this fabric and the shield lifted into place around the wavemaker. We’ve done studies and tests at Kelktoo. The tests show we can reduce the sound and the vibration, all the acoustic damage, really, by many magnitudes. However, a means of lifting and securing the shield will have to be devised. Tamarek here has some ideas.”

  The Metah let that idea circulate among the elders for awhile. She studied the gathering. Pulsing such a large crowd, you could easily get a sense of what they were feeling. She gathered a lot of echoes: some worried, some afraid, some were defiant, ready to go to war, some confused. There seemed to be no consensus. Then she saw Kloosee and Pakma—and there was Tulcheah kim working her way toward Kloosee, the slut—and their eekoti friends. They had strange names: Chase and Angie. Tailless People were all strange.

  “Longsee, let’s ask your eekoti friends what they think. Maybe they have ideas.”

  Longsee tried not to take that as a comment on his own idea, but motioned Kloosee to bring the eekoti forward. Chase and Angie were conveyed to a place before the Metah.

  She pulsed both of them, even leaving her place above the coral bed and circling them like the predator she had once been. They pulsed strange. It was always hard to get a reading on Tailless people. Their insides bubbled like a steam vent, but you couldn’t get a sense of what it all meant…all that churning and burning, were they really that disturbed inside? Finally, Iltereedah went back to her coral bed and gave up.

  “You eekoti have been to Kinlok. You’ve talked with the Umans…you’re related to them, after all. Can we work with them? Why can’t they see what they’re doing to us? If the Sound doesn’t stop, we’ll have no choice. Either we go to war or we die.”

  Chase listened carefully to the echopod translation, glancing at Kloosee and Longsee from time to time, wondering if he understood, if he should respond, and what did one say to the Metah anyway?

  Kloosee encouraged him with some gestures.

  “Your Majesty…I’m…we’re…just visitors here. We know little of your ways. I did talk with the Umans. That’s already been said. They’re not interested in talking. They’re fighting a war. Unless we…you…can help them with that, they won’t listen.”

  “Affectionate Metah,” Longsee found it politic to intervene, “we could offer to work with the Umans.’

  “Work with the Umans…how? More negotiations…that hasn’t worked yet.”

  “Perhaps if we take a different approach, a more united approach…Tulcheah kim deals with other kels, she can speak to this as well.”

  Tulcheah kim was head of diplomats for the Metah. “Only the Orketish and the Ponkti have any interest in dealing with the Umans. The Eepkos, the Sk’ort…kah, let them be. Let them disintegrate.” Tulcheah wasn’t shy about her opinions.

  The Metah was interested in hearing more from Chase. “What do you eekoti think of this? Can we work with the Umans at any level? Is there anything we can offer?”

  Chase had no idea how he was supposed to answer that. Back home, he’d never voted. His Mom chided him on that, but talking politics was like going to the dentist. You avoided it as long as you could and only went when something hurt. Still, here they were, being asked their opinion, on matters of state and war and diplomacy. It was nuts. He and Angie hadn’t been on Seome more than a few weeks at most; and, by the way, he still didn’t understand the time keeping system here.

  “Your Majesty—“ how did you address the Metah?—“maybe we…you... can work with the Umans in some way. Offer to help move the Twister. Maybe there’s another island they could use…or even another planet in this system—“ he stopped, seeing the puzzled looks on the elders. Longsee knew something of other worlds, as did Kloosee and Pakma, but the others…Chase learned there was little point in pursuing that line of thought. But the Metah had asked—

  Longsee pointed out something that needed to be considered. “Metah, our eekoti friends have a unique perspective...we think they’re actually related to the Umans in some way, strange as that may be. But if we damage or destroy the wavemaker...assuming we could even do that…or cause it to be shut down, then the Farpool itself will cease to exist.”

  “This is true,” Tulcheah agreed. “And other kels have not yet had a chance to explore it, test it…already the Ponkti are jealous—“

  “Kah, “spat one elder, “the Ponkti are jealous of their own shadows.”

  “Nonetheless,” Tulcheah went on, “we should be careful in doing anything that shuts down the Farpool, before we’ve all had a chance to see what it’s capable of. Other kels think Omt’or is keeping all the secrets for itself.”

  Oh, this is just great, Chase thought to himself. Now, we’re right in the middle of Seomish politics. I’d rather have a tooth pulled. With help from Kloosee, Chase was able to drift quietly back into the crowd, while the elders debated and argued and swore at each other. It wasn’t hard for Chase to see that tempers were rising.

  His echopod chirped. Though it
was hard to distinguish in the general commotion of the discussion, Chase thought he had heard Angie’s plaintive voice in the background.

  “Chase…Chase…can you hear me? Is that true? Are they really going to shutoff the Farpool?”

  Chase whispered back. “Angie…Angie, is that you? Can they hear us?”

  “I don’t know…there’s such a racket. They’re all arguing over something. Chase, what about the Farpool…if they—“

  “I know, I know. I don’t think they’ll shut it down…that’s our way home.”

  “Chase, we did all we could. I want to go home…can we just get out of here now--?”

  “Shhh…I think they can hear us.”

  The Metah was speaking. “I see no choice but to involve the Ponkti. They know how to work with tchin’ting fiber in quantity.”

  Tamarek was appalled. “Honorable Metah, we can work with tchin’ting as well as any Ponkti…already, I’ve fabricated many beats worth…come to the em’kel…I’ll show you.”

  But Iltereedah had made up her mind, snapping her tail flukes abruptly. “No, we must have all the kels together…Omt’or, Ponk’et, Ork’et, the Eepkos, the Skort. It’s too big a project for one kel. The Umans won’t be able to ignore us if we’re together.”

  Tulcheah, who was Ponkti by birth, concurred, amplifying the Metah’s words. “No one kel can monopolize the Farpool.”

  “May I remind the Most Affectionate Metah,” said Longsee, “that the wavemaker, the Uman machine that is wrecking our world, creates the Farpool. If we aren’t careful, damage to the wavemaker will shut down the Farpool…we’ll lose access to other places, other times. And our eekoti friends—“ He didn’t have to go further. All eyes were on Chase and Angie.

  The Metah pulsed Chase, then Angie. “I pulse turmoil…concern…if I read the echoes right. You worry about the Farpool?”

  Chase had to be prodded by Kloosee to reply. When the Metah addresses you… answer.

  “Yes, that’s right, Your Majesty. The Farpool is our way home. We want to help here.” He took Angie’s scaly arm in his. “But someday, we both want to go home.”

  Iltereedah’s face was a mixture of feelings. Chase wasn’t sure how to figure it. In the dim lighting, she had a pig’s snout. From other angles, she had a kind of bemused smile, a look that said I know all about you. He didn’t yet know how to pulse the insides of his Seomish friends. He’d tried before, but all he got back was a blast of echoes, a disjointed pattern that made no sense. And how kosher was it to pulse the Metah anyway? Wasn’t that rude? The Seomish didn’t seem to have any secrets. They could see right inside you…they knew what you were feeling, what you had just eaten, whether you were anxious or calm. Kloosee had talked about Shookel. Inner calm, inner tranquility. Chase figured maybe that was just good manners. Keep your insides steady and calm so you don’t annoy the hell of everybody around you.

  The Seomish all placed a lot of emphasis on shookel.

  “This we understand,” said the Metah. “Eekoti are not of our world. It’s not fair of us to involve you in our affairs. I don’t want our eekoti guests to be pawns in a struggle between the kels.”

  “Honorable Metah, “Longsee said, “perhaps the eekoti can help us with the shield project. They can talk with the Umans. They are Uman, in a sense. The other kels will listen to them.”

  “Perhaps,” sniffed the Metah. “I will compose a formal message—Tulcheah here will help me—to the Metah of Ponk’et. Lektereenah kim. I know her. She’s brash, yes, but she’ll listen to reason…especially if it comes from the eekoti. Longsee, oversee an expedition. Gather your engineers, your craftsmen and spinners and weavers. Be ready. If Lektereenah’s agreeable, we’ll send this expedition to Ponk’et and know we have the best people working on the shield.”

  “At once, Honorable Metah.”

  Chase wanted to ask just what it was the Omtorish expected him and Angie to do. He glanced at Angie. Were they pawns? Worse, were they like circus freaks, exhibits in some aquarium turned inside out? He felt a growing sense of helplessness. Like they were being sucked into one of the whirlpools…like going through the Farpool, with no way of knowing where they would end up.

  He resolved to have a word with Kloosee and Pakma when the gathering was done.

  The Metah slipped away from her coral bed and headed toward the edge of the platform, out into the heavily silted waters beyond. She was immediately flanked by Tulcheah and other staff, and well-guarded with armed prodsmen.

  “We will build a shield with the Ponkti and the other kels and protect ourselves from the sound that way. If the shield doesn’t work, then the eekoti must go before the Umans with an ultimatum: stop the wavemaker or die.”

  Roaming just a quarter beat behind the Metah, Tulcheah kim thought to herself:

  Ponk’et must take control of this project. We have the right. Omt’or can’t have the Farpool to itself forever. If Omt’or can bring eekoti to Seome, Ponk’et can use the Farpool to bring even greater treasures. Omt’or won’t rule the waves much longer.

  Then she swallowed that thought abruptly, sensing one of the prodsmen closing on her. He had pulsed something menacing, something that shouldn’t ever exist in the presence of the Metah. Tulcheah forced her insides to show shookel…nothing here but calm and serenity, my good soldier. Nothing but peace and tranquility here. Long live Iltereedah luk’t….

  The prodsman eventually veered off and resumed his guard position on their starboard flank. He kept a wary eye on the chief of diplomats.

  And the Metah’s official entourage was off again on vish’tu, another formal roam to inspect the city and its beleaguered residents.

  Chase joined Kloosee and Pakma with Longsee as they headed back to the Kelktoo. He knew Angie was glaring at him with both eyes.

  He didn’t look over at her. He was determined he wasn’t going to show anything less than total courage. I can do this. We can do this. It was like when he made his first dive with his Dad to the hundred foot depth, right off Round Reef, a few miles from Scotland Beach. His ears ached and he was freezing and his stomach was churning. But he kept giving thumbs’up signs to his Dad, determined to make the Old Man proud of him.

  This was a chance to make something of himself. Angie wanted that too. She was always saying things like you can’t sell T-shirts forever, Chase. Get a real job. Make a life. I don’t want to live my life with a beach bum.

  No, the Seomish didn’t think of him as a beach bum. They were counting on him, counting on them, to help with the Umans, with their machines and their conflict. Maybe, when it was all over, Kloosee and Pakma would erect a statue, give them medals of honor or something. Wouldn’t that be cool? A statue on Seome: For Courage and Commitment Beyond the Call of Duty. For Selfless Devotion to Service.

  He’d take a picture of it and plaster it all over his bedroom walls back home, so Dad would have to see it every time he burst in unannounced, yelling at him about something at the shop.

  If they ever got back home.

  Angie’s Journal: Echopod 2

  “Well, so here I am, dictating this journal again. I don’t know what’s gotten into Chase. Honestly, sometimes…I just don’t understand that guy. Gwen, I love him. I’m sure of that. But every time I think I’ve figured him out, he surprises me. And not always in a good way either.

  “Chase doesn’t want to really go back, through the Farpool. Oh, he says he does. I think he says that for me, just to keep me pacified. Me, I’m homesick. I want to eat waffles in the morning, not this sour fish thing they call gisu. I want to look in the mirror at night and see my brown curls that won’t stay in place, not see some scaly lizard creepy thing that looks like a reject from a bad horror movie. I want my own bed. I want to run laps with you, girl…remember how we used to do that after school? Hook up with the cross-country team, stick our butts out when we passed by the football team practicing
?

  “God, I miss all that. Just put me down that Farpool and I’ll take my chances. I try to talk with Chase about this, but he’s not listening…he just nods and smiles, you know…like guys do. The zombie look…I really want to slap him when he does that.

  “Gwen, now things are really getting serious around here. The families—they call them kels—don’t like each other. I guess it’s politics…I don’t know. One kel thinks Kloosee and Pakma’s kel are monopolizing the Farpool…the best I can make out. Chase and me, we’re like pawns. We’re like some great prize. Can you believe that?

  “Now, there’s a big project to put up some kind of shield. Kloosee says nobody knows what that’ll do to the Farpool…it might stop the thing altogether. That would suck. How would we get home then?

  “Oh, Gwen…I don’t want to stay here. I don’t want to be marooned here. When I ask Pakma about changing back, undoing the modifications to my body, going back through that procedure—she doesn’t give me a straight answer. She says it’s complicated. And it’s more than just the procedure that makes it complicated. Now, I think Chase and me are like exhibits in a zoo…they’re arguing over us, what to do with us, how to use us. That makes me nervous.

  “Anyway, I’m just trying to put my thoughts down…sorry if I sound a little down. I guess I am, sort of. I want to record everything, sights, sounds, scents. Pakma said she would help me, but they’re all so busy. There’s another trip coming. Some place called Ponk’et. They don’t get along too well with Omt’or, from what I gather. And the Metah—that’s like their Queen—has a female on her staff who’s from this other kel…at least partly. Nobody trusts her, but she’s got the ear of the Queen.

  “Gwen, there’s so much I can’t show you or even describe. The Seomish can read each other’s insides, the bubbles, the echoes. It’s like they can read your mind. Nothing is secret around here. But I haven’t learned how to do that yet. I’m not even sure I want to…can you imagine that? Me and Chase reading each other’s minds and stomachs. Yuck…he loves Mexican too. That’s more than I want to know.

  “Gwen, Pakma’s come for me, so I have to sign off. I’ll keep the journal going on this little trip…I guess we’ll be seeing things we’ve never seen before….just like Nat Geo.

  “Swell. I can hardly wait.

  “Anyway…until later, girl. Angie out.”

  End Recording