For the Love of Gelo!

by Tom O'Donnell

  Core-of-Rock was dark. Power outages had become the norm in the weeks prior. Only the most essential services were allowed to use electricity. Normal life in the city ground to a halt. The fifth grade was put on hold indefinitely.

  In my free time, I studied the Observers’ cyclopaedias. I’d become obsessed. I had the feeling that somehow our salvation lay with the new planet. Every day I would borrow new cyclopaedia volumes and spend hours reading through them. Their content was occasionally interesting, filled with brief descriptions of distant worlds and strange alien races—apparently there were many intelligent species in the universe. Usually, though, the cyclopaedias were deadly dull. A typical entry might read:

  “Cymis-19 is a type 6 binary pulsar (Pulsar-901368A and Pulsar-901368B) in the Ghez sector of the Ylori star cluster of Spiral Arm 991234 of the Edopo Galaxy. Pulsar-901368A has a mass of 2.6 x 1030 kg and a spin period of 0.023 seconds, while Pulsar-901368B has a mass of 2.8 x 1030 kg and a spin period of 2.8 seconds. Cymis-19 may reach a rate of up to 227 EMR pulses per second. ACRG: 5018, 8183, 0081.”

  If you feel like gnawing your own eyes off after reading that, imagine trying to get through a whole book of entries just like it. Then imagine reading ten such books.

  But in the end, my suffering had paid off. Buried in all the facts and figures, I had found something important. And I had to share it.

  So I knocked on the door of the High Observer’s dwelling, while the rest of the city slept. I clutched the cyclopaedia in my thol’graz.

  “See,” muttered Hudka, pointing to the fancy platinum doorknob of Ydar’s dwelling, “I’ve always said the High Observer position is overpaid.”

  “Oh, Ydar’s not so bad,” said Kalac. “It’s come a long way in recent months.”

  I pounded on the door again. At last, it eased open.

  “Yes, what is it?” said Ydar, its five eyes blinking slowly. It was odd to see the High Observer out of ceremonial robes and wearing pajamas. Recently Ydar had been pulling double duty, working in the Observatory and trying to keep the reactor in Trillid’s plant running.

  “Sorry to bother you at this hour, High Observer,” said Kalac, “but Chorkle—”

  “It’s Kyral!” I said. “The new planet is Kyral!”

  The High Observer frowned and shook its head. “No, Chorkle, we already considered Kyral. It’s not the new planet. Believe me, we focused on all the entries for habitable worlds in the cyclopaedias first. I can’t believe you awakened me in the middle of a sleep cycle for this. It’s enough to make me reconsider my policy of allowing lay-Xotonians to access the order’s sacred cyclopaedias.” Ydar started to close the door.

  “Listen up, mold-brain,” said Hudka. “If my grand-offspring here says the new planet is Kyral, then it’s Kyral. The evidence is irrefutable!”

  “And just what is the evidence?” asked Ydar, squinting at Hudka.

  “How should I know?” shrugged Hudka. “Chorkle?”

  “Right,” I said. “So it’s got a single moon. It’s the same diameter. The same mass. It’s habitable—”

  “Slow down and read the entry,” said Ydar.

  I opened the tome and read. “Kyral is a planet located in the Nyspol sector of the Ueldo star cluster of Spiral Arm 5456901 of the Pharrash Galaxy. Kyral has a mass of 6.00809 × 1024 kg and a diameter of 13,458 km, with a single orbital moon (see: Ithro). Kyral is a densely populated and highly urbanized world, a regional cultural mecca for several adjacent sectors, home to an intelligent species known as the Aeaki, whose capital city of Hykaro Roost—”

  “And that is where I will stop you,” said Ydar, cutting me off. “The new planet we orbit is not ‘densely populated.’ We’ve seen a few scattered signs that could mean intelligent life, yes, but hardly ‘urbanized.’ And no cities to speak of at all. Just lots of forests and swamps and blighted deserts down there. We haven’t seen anyone coming or going. The planet isn’t a ‘cultural mecca’ by any standard.”

  “Yes,” I said, “but this cyclopaedia comes from the time of Jalasu Jhuk, doesn’t it? That was ages ago. Maybe something happened since then.”

  Ydar pondered this.

  “See,” said Hudka, “I told you the evidence was irrefutable.”

  Ydar’s expression had changed. “Chorkle, what did you say that diameter was?”

  “Thirteen thousand four hundred fifty-eight kilometers,” I said. “But here’s the most important part.” I returned to the entry, skipping over long boring swathes that focused on Kyral’s water cycle and tectonic plate dynamics.

  “The Aeaki,” I read aloud, “are a highly technologically advanced race, capable of faster-than-light space travel. Xotonians enjoy the highest level of cultural amity and cooperation with this friendly species.”

  Kalac, Hudka, and Ydar looked at one another.

  “The reactor,” said Kalac.

  “If they’re so technologically advanced, then maybe the Aeaki can help us fix it!” I said. “And with faster-than-light travel, maybe they can even help the humans get back to their own planet.”

  “It’s a long shot,” said Ydar. “But I suppose it’s worth a try.”

  “I always said you were a wise one,” said Hudka. “The Council should give you a raise.”

  • • • •

  “By Great Jalasu Jhuk of the Stars,” cried Loghoz, “let this, the eight hundred nineteenth Grand Conclave of the Xotonian people, commence!”

  Ryzz Plaza was packed once more. The entire population of Core-of-Rock had gathered for the great meeting. Four young humans stood among the populace, now counted as full citizens of Gelo. This time they were able to follow the proceedings on their own. Well, three of them were, anyway.

  Hollins was lost. “Did Loghoz just ask us all to name our favorite type of mouse?” he asked. “Because I don’t know if I have one.”

  Nicki shook her head. “I can’t wait to exercise my civic duty!” she whispered as she rotated her shoulder in a slow circle. “Gotta warm up my voting arm.”

  “Wake me up when it’s over,” said Becky, sprawling on a flat rock.

  Beneath the iridium statue of Jalasu Jhuk stood the Xotonian Council. In addition to Loghoz and Kalac, there were Glyac, Dyves, and, of course, the dimwitted and outspoken Sheln. At the moment it was whispering something to Loghoz. Loghoz blinked uncertainly.

  “By special request,” said Loghoz, “the first to speak will be Council Member Sheln.”

  Sheln stepped forward, its thol’grazes folded humbly. There were hisses from the crowd, a few outright boos. The preceding months had not been kind to Sheln, politically or physically. By all accounts it had spent most of its time shut up in the municipal archives, reading over arcane laws and statutes. Perhaps it was trying to shed its public image as a complete moron.

  “Greetings, Xotonian people,” said Sheln. Its voice sounded uncharacteristically reedy and weak. Sheln had lost weight since the great battle. Its once overstuffed physique now looked saggy and deflated. Sheln had been caught on the wrong side of history: Blinded by its hatred for humans, it had opposed the efforts to fight the Vorem in favor of attacking the human miners. In hindsight, that position looked ridiculous.

  “Allow me to extend my warmest welcome to our newest citizens,” said Sheln, fooling no one. It was well known that it blamed the Earth children for its waning fortunes. In fact, most assumed this would be Sheln’s last term of office on the Council.

  “Power,” said Sheln, “or the lack thereof. That is what we came here to discuss. Our reactor is failing, and we don’t know how to fix it. We’ve lost our Stealth Shield. The Observatory barely functions. Agriculture, air circulation, and sanitation are crippled. Life in Core-of-Rock is becoming unbearable. And if the Vorem return, simply put, we are in trouble. This situation cannot stand.”

  I was confused. Sheln was summarizing the problem accurately a
nd without a stupid or self-serving agenda. Perhaps the wormhole had taken us to some alternate universe where Sheln wasn’t an utter mold-brain?

  “But there is hope!” cried Sheln. “And once again it comes from young Chorkle here. What a prodigy, folks. And a hero of the great battle too! Let’s hear it for Chorkle. What would we do without this little one? I have always said that the offspring are our future.”

  A few in the audience clapped uncertainly. The lack of applause wasn’t a reflection on my personal popularity—though I noticed that Zenyk kept its thol’grazes folded. It was just that anyone was leery of agreeing with Sheln. I too wondered what it was getting at.

  “You see, Chorkle has identified our new planet. And apparently it is home to an advanced and friendly civilization that was an ally back in the Time of Legends! It’s possible that they can now help us fix the reactor.”

  A murmur ran through the crowd. The idea of more contact with outsiders didn’t sit well with a lot of Xotonians. A few started to tear up preemptively. Yet still, a chance at solving our problems had a strong appeal.

  “Therefore, for the good of the Xotonian species, I propose that we immediately launch a mission to the surface of this new planet, Kyral,” said Sheln.

  My gul’orp dropped open. Sheln had put forth the exact proposal that Kalac had intended to!

  Someone called out, “Hey, over here. I’m a hero too!” Of course, it was Hudka. My grand-originator obviously couldn’t let a public speaking appearance by Sheln pass without interruption.

  “Hudka,” sighed Loghoz, “while the Council recognizes your valiant service, we simply don’t have time for—”

  “No, please, let the ancient one speak,” said Sheln, trying to sound deferential. “Hudka reminds us that history is still alive.”

  “Thanks,” said Hudka. “Sheln, I was all set to call you a fat, self-serving, mold-brained creep, a toxic blight on the very political process itself. But I’m not going to do that. I will give credit where credit is due. For the first time in your life, you have made perfect sense.” Then to the crowd, “Let this be a lesson, folks: Stupidity is not an incurable disease!”

  A ripple of laughter swept across the plaza. Sheln forced a grotesque smile onto its face and tried to look like everything was in good fun. Its eyes weren’t smiling though.

  “The next to address the Conclave,” cried Loghoz, “shall be Chief of Council Kalac!”

  Kalac stepped forward.

  “Greetings,” said my originator. “In fact, I had intended to put forward exactly the same proposal. Thank you, Sheln, for stating the case so well.”

  Sheln nodded respectfully, its face still a pained smile.

  Kalac continued. “The reason I felt this matter should be brought before the Grand Conclave, however, are the risks. It is only fair that they be addressed in public.”

  “If we undertake a mission to Kyral, we may end up drawing more attention to ourselves. We believe the Aeaki who inhabit the planet are friendly, but our information is hundreds of years out of date. The data we’ve gotten from the Observatory is limited. And, as we all know, our recent luck with alien encounters has been mixed at best. The truth is that we don’t honestly know what we’ll find down there. And to compound that risk, it appears there is already a Vorem trireme somewhere on the surface of the planet.”

  The crowd shuddered. A few of the more easily frightened Xotonians clutched each other for support.

  “Still,” continued Kalac, “I believe that a mission to Kyral is our best hope to bring the reactor and the Stealth Shield back online. And maybe even to help our young human friends return to their families. So I encourage you all to vote in favor of Sheln’s plan.” Kalac concluded its speech. The crowd seemed persuaded.

  “If there are no further proposals,” cried Loghoz, “then let us vote—”

  “Pardon me, Custodian,” said Sheln humbly, “but I wish to make one small amendment.”

  Loghoz looked around. Dyves seemed uncertain. Glyac seemed asleep. Kalac was unreadable.

  “Go ahead, Sheln,” said Loghoz.

  “I propose,” said Sheln, “that Kalac lead this vital mission to Kyral. It is an honor that our esteemed Chief of Council has earned many times over. And I can imagine no better leader for such a crucial endeavor.”

  I was thunderstruck. I had figured that Sheln only wanted to go ahead with the mission to screw it up or somehow turn the situation to its own advantage. Maybe even start a new war with the Aeaki, if we could find them. But with Kalac in charge, Sheln wouldn’t get the chance.

  “Very well,” said Loghoz. “An amendment to the proposal: Kalac shall lead the mission to Kyral. Any objections?” There were none.

  The proposal passed overwhelmingly, by a vote of 5,664 to 82. And one of the nay votes shouldn’t have counted, since it was cast by a confused Hollins.

  After the Conclave, the crowd slowly dispersed, perhaps a little more hopeful than when they had left their darkened homes. A few Xotonians were even shaking Sheln’s thol’graz as it lingered by Jhuk’s statue.

  “So what was that about?” asked Nicki. “Voting the same way as Sheln makes my skin crawl.”

  “Yeah, what was that about?” asked Hollins. “Seriously. I’m asking. I only understood, like, twenty percent of what they were saying. Sheln wants to open a juice bar, but Kalac thinks it should serve packing tape instead?”

  “What? No,” I said. And I explained how Sheln had co-opted Kalac’s idea and even suggested that my originator should lead the mission.

  “Oh, that is pretty good,” said Hollins, smiling. “Same old Sheln.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “See, Sheln doesn’t want to get caught on the wrong side again,” said Hollins. “So it stole Kalac’s idea. If the plan works, Sheln at least gets some credit for coming up with it. But if it doesn’t—and this is what Sheln is hoping for—Kalac, the leader of the mission, will take the blame. It’s all upside for Sheln. Not as dumb as you think, that one.”

  “Heh,” said Becky. “I bet you that Sheln’s hoping that Kalac doesn’t come back from Kyral at all.” Hollins nudged her hard with his elbow.

  “Sorry,” said Becky. “I mean—I’m sure that won’t happen, Chorkle.”

  I hadn’t really considered it before, but who knew what dangers my originator might encounter down on the planet’s surface? “Kalac will definitely come back,” I said. I hoped it was true.

  • • • •

  The four humans and I formally volunteered for the Kyral mission as well. After all, there were no better pilots on all of Gelo than Becky and Hollins. And Nicki and I were pretty handy with a blaster turret. And Little Gus, well . . . he could cook. Sort of. How could the five of us possibly pass up the chance to have an adventure on a strange new world?

  “Absolutely not,” said Kalac.

  “But we fought in the great battle,” I said. “Not to brag, but we’re, you know, heroes.” I only threw this term around on rare occasions, like when it might win an argument or get me something for free.

  “You did, and you are,” said Kalac. “Your courage meant the difference between victory and defeat. Gelo owes you a debt that will never be repaid.”

  “Here comes Kalac’s famous ‘but,’” said Hudka from its battered chair across the room.

  “But you’re still just children,” said Kalac. “I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you, Chorkle. Or any of the humans, either.”

  “So just because we’re young, you won’t let us help?” I asked. Kalac shook its head.

  “Well, if age is all that matters, then I should be in charge of this whole asteroid,” said Hudka, who was happy to jump into any argument against Kalac. “I hereby decree that all citizens must rub my aching fel’grazes no fewer than three times a day. And let them not be shy, but really get in there—”


  “The fact is,” said Kalac, cutting Hudka off. “You already have helped enough, Chorkle. You found the cyclopaedia entry. You and the humans have repaired the starfighters and even trained other pilots to fly them. Pilots who are grown-ups and fully understand the risks of undertaking a mission like this. They don’t have their whole lives ahead of them. Trust me. When you have your own offspring, you’ll understand.”

  All my arguments were futile. Kalac would not be persuaded. And unlike a Grand Conclave proposal, this matter wasn’t up for a vote.

  “Eh, look on the bright side, kid,” said Hudka, placing a thol’graz on my i’arda. “With Kalac gone, none of us have to bathe.”

  “Wait. Everyone else has been bathing this whole time?” said Little Gus.

  The next day, Ornim and Chayl boarded one of the Xotonian starfighters, the one we called Phryxus II. The ship was powered and ready for flight.

  “Keep three eyes on everything around here while I’m gone,” said Kalac to me.

  “I will,” I said.

  “If you see any nacho cheese down there,” said Little Gus, “try to bring back a sample.”

  Kalac smiled and nodded. “I love you, Chorkle,” it said. “And I love you humans too.” Then it turned and followed the others aboard.

  The ship’s engines fired, and they took off for Kyral.

  Chapter Four

  A sense of hope pervaded Core-of-Rock. With Kalac and the others gone, the Xotonian people felt that their leaders were working toward a solution to the problem. Surely the reactor would be repaired, and then everything would return to the way it had been for ages. All the lights and computers would blink back to life. No more cold food or piles of uncollected garbage rotting in the streets. The darkness would be lifted.

  Few seemed to worry when the ship didn’t radio back to the Observatory—temporarily fully powered, just for this purpose—to confirm their safe landing. I worried though. I worried a lot.