For the Love of Gelo!

by Tom O'Donnell

  Pandemonium had broken loose in Ryzz Plaza. Our moment had come.

  From the corner of my third and fourth eyes I could see that Nar and Ydevi were thoroughly confused. After all, Hudka was supposed to be right beside them. They had followed the old coot all the way from my dwelling. But by the time they looked back, Linod had already discarded its old cloak and cane and faded back into the crowd. My good friend had played its part admirably.

  “Come and get me, you mold-brain!” howled Hudka, and it took off through the city at incredible speed, trailing smoke and flame.

  “After it!” shrieked Sheln, its voice close to breaking. “Go after it! Arrest that traitor!”

  “Get Hudka!” cried Zenyk. The guards in the plaza looked at one another. Then they took off after the rocket-bike on fel’graz, leaving the stage unguarded. The first rotten mushroom hit Sheln approximately four milliseconds later. Soon the Chief of Council was being pelted with garbage from all sides. Sheln shrieked for the guards to return, but they were already gone. The speech had practically turned into a riot. I regretted that I couldn’t stay and enjoy it until the end.

  But the humans and I had already made our escape. We ran in five separate directions, leaving Ydevi and Nar behind in the chaos.

  The children were to regroup on a deserted side street to gather our supplies. We’d stashed them there, disguised as colorfully wrapped Zhavend presents.

  Alone, I ran toward the center of Core-of-Rock. There was one important item I had to obtain before we left. Hollins was right: Sheln would rather blow up Core-of-Rock than give up power, and that had stuck with me.

  I rejoined the humans at the nearby usk-lizard stables. Luckily, Ixoby wasn’t manning the gate. Presumably, the young guard had joined the others in trying to chase down Hudka’s rocket-bike.

  On the spur of the moment, Little Gus decided to release all the other usk-lizards from their stables. At first, the big, dumb beasts snuffled uncertainly at the prospect of freedom. Then they plodded off in their separate directions. If any guards were to follow us, they would need to catch their own ride.

  Becky, Nicki, and I hopped onto Goar; Hollins and Little Gus took Gec. Unresolved tensions from the twins’ birthday party had rearranged the usual riding order.

  And then we were galloping through the city. Away in the distance, we could still hear the whine of Hudka’s rocket-bike and the raucous crowd. According to the children, the vehicle had hours of fuel left.

  “It looks like we’re home free!” cried Hollins.

  As we approached the entrance to the Unclaimed Tunnels, though, I heard Becky curse under her breath.

  A solitary figure stood in our path. It was Captain Eromu, still guarding its post. Becky slowed Goar to a halt. Gec stopped behind us. Eromu regarded us in silence, its thol’grazes crossed. The guards were under strict orders to allow no one to leave the city. And no one followed orders like Eromu.

  I opened my gul’orp to explain. I wanted to tell the captain that we weren’t lawbreakers or rebels but that we had to try to save my originator, that I couldn’t leave Kalac down on Kyral’s surface when I knew it was in danger, that Sheln would drag its fel’grazes, and by the time a rescue mission was finally mounted, it might just be too late. I wanted to tell Eromu that if it felt it had to vaporize me, then so be it. But I would not be dissuaded. I would not give up.

  Before I could say anything, though, Eromu simply nodded and stepped aside. The captain already knew where we were going. For the first time in Eromu’s life, it set aside the rules.

  As we galloped past, Eromu tossed something up to me. I caught it, then stared at Eromu. The guard captain offered a quick salute. It had given me its energy blaster.

  I turned the weapon over in my thol’graz: tarnished green metal with an usk-leather grip, surprisingly heavy. One of only 256 on all of Gelo. I’d never held an energy blaster before. I wasn’t sure I wanted to. I opened my pack to stow it away.

  The frightening truth was that the blaster was far from the most dangerous weapon I carried. From inside my bag came the faint glow of the Q-sik.

  Chapter Seven

  We made the trip from Core-of-Rock to Flowing-Stone in record time. In our minds, each stray sound we heard as we raced through the Unclaimed Tunnels became the Xotonian city guards closing in on us. Once Sheln realized that we were gone, it would be easy enough to guess where we were headed. The other guards wouldn’t be as sympathetic as Eromu.

  By the time we arrived, the usk-lizards had been worked into a lather. As we leaped from the saddles and raced toward the hangar, Gus stopped.

  “Hold on,” said Gus. “I’ll be right behind you guys.”

  “Dude, there’s no time!” cried Hollins. “The guards could be here any minute!”

  But Gus had already turned and dashed off into the philiddra forest, his flashlight twinkling in the mist.

  “We should all agree to pee before we do this stuff,” said Nicki.

  Down in the hangar, we powered up the T’utzuxe, the least damaged of the two remaining starfighters.

  “No arguments, Becky,” said Hollins. “I’m flying.”

  “One argument, Hollins,” said Becky. “I’m flying.”

  “Ugh, fine!” said Hollins. “But only because you could use the practice.”

  Becky snorted and took the cockpit. We ran through a quick battery of system tests: power, propulsion, artificial gravity, navigation, communications, weapons, sensors, and life support.

  “Well, weapons are still on the fritz, but otherwise everything looks good to go,” said Nicki, “more or less.”

  “What does ‘more or less’ mean, sis?” asked Becky, adjusting the controls to her preference.

  “Well, we’ve flown these ships in space and around Gelo,” said Nicki, “but they took a beating in the battle. Kyral’s gravity and atmosphere might very well tear us to pieces when we try to land. Our life support could give out. Or the automated navigation systems could fail while we’re trying to—”

  “Okay, okay, Nicki. We get it,” said Hollins, cutting her off. “No time to worry now.”

  “Hey, I’m just thinking out loud here,” she snapped. “I’m supposed to be ‘the smart one,’ aren’t I?”

  Hollins grimaced and said nothing.

  “Guys, help!” cried Little Gus from across the hangar.

  We saw him struggling toward the ship. He was pulling a big, blue, unwilling shape behind him: Pizza the thyss-cat.

  “Dude, what are you doing?” cried Hollins. “Pets aren’t allowed in restaurants. What makes you think you can bring one on our interplanetary rescue mission?”

  “Pizza wants to come,” said Little Gus. “He wants to help us!” All visual evidence contradicted his statement, however. In fact, I’d never seen the thyss-cat like this. The closer the beast got to our ship, the more Pizza whined and growled and resisted Little Gus.

  “Let him go, Gus!” cried Hollins. “Seriously, we don’t have time for this! I guarantee you that the city guards are on their way here right now.”

  “Does . . . anybody,” wheezed Gus, pulling Pizza as hard as he could, “have . . . like . . . a steak or something?” Now, three meters from the T’utzuxe, Pizza wouldn’t budge. The thyss-cat stood rigid, facing the ship and wailing pitifully.

  “Eh, not everybody likes flying,” said Becky, shrugging.

  “This wasn’t part of the plan, Gus!” said Hollins. “If you don’t come aboard right now, we’re leaving you!”

  “Oh no,” said Nicki.

  Across the hangar, several Xotonians ran toward the ship, blasters at the ready. Indeed, they were city guards. They had caught up to us.

  “Stop!” cried Ydevi. “You are not authorized to be here!”

  “It’s now or never,” said Becky, powering up the thrusters and opening the hangar bay doors. The atmosphere beg
an to rush out of the chamber and into the void beyond.

  At last, Little Gus gave up. He let go of Pizza and scampered aboard the T’utzuxe. For an instant, Pizza seemed totally confused that he’d been abandoned. It was almost as though the thyss-cat wanted to keep Gus from boarding the ship. Pizza gave one final yelp. Then—an instant before the automated hatch closed—he leaped inside after Gus.

  “He likes cutting it close,” said Little Gus, rubbing Pizza’s neck. “Adds drama.” But Pizza was more distressed than ever. The thyss-cat kept trying to position himself between Little Gus and the back of the ship, all the while making a low growl in his throat.

  “What, is he sick? That thing better not throw up inside my ship,” said Becky as we lifted off the ground. Somehow she never seemed more at ease than in life-threatening situations. “Hey, Hollins, got any inspirational Teddy Roosevelt quotes for us?”

  “Uh, ‘Believe you can and you’re halfway there,’” said Hollins, his face pressed to the viewport. Beneath us, the guards had begun to fire their weapons.

  “You learned that one from me,” said Nicki curtly.

  A few green energy bolts whizzed past us as the T’utzuxe rose toward the open hangar doors. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but the shots seemed a tad halfhearted to me. Perhaps, like Eromu, the other guards knew we were trying to save their true Chief.

  We blasted out into space. Little blue-gray Gelo shrank away behind us, along with the crippled battle cruiser. Green Kyral grew. Its lopsided planetary ring faded into a cloud of dust as we approached. We could see the fissures and icy canyons on Ithro, its moon.

  “Turn the communicator on,” I said. “Listen for the Phryxus II’s distress beacon.”

  Becky did. And almost immediately, we heard the telltale chime ringing over the speakers.

  “Kalac!” I cried. I hadn’t imagined it! And the closer we got to Kyral, the clearer the sound became.

  “Okay, I’m getting a read on it,” said Nicki, regarding a display projected from her holodrive, now connected to the T’utzuxe’s navigation system. “Looks like it’s coming from a land-bound point in the Northern Hemisphere. About eight thousand kilometers north-northeast of that big inland sea. You see the one I’m talking about? It’s kind of shaped like a . . . dolphin wearing a sombrero?”

  A brief discussion of the sea’s true shape ensued—some felt it looked more like a banana playing football. Personally, I thought it resembled a zaeper with two rha’tills, but no one else knew what that was. As Kyral swelled to fill our view, the fuzzy green ball focused itself into distinct plains and mountains and forests and oceans. Kalac was down there somewhere. Hopefully, it was still alive.

  With all our attention squarely focused on the new planet, none of us heard the hatch of the cargo hold scrape open. Only Pizza saw the stowaway creep silently from his hiding place. The thyss-cat snarled.

  From behind me, there came a voice, somehow familiar. “Turn this ship around,” it said, speaking oddly accented Xotonian, “or I will kill you all.”

  As one, we turned. Standing behind us was a dark figure. Though he spoke Xotonian. he was not one of my people. He was a Vorem. In one hand, he clutched what looked to be some sort of improvised energy weapon.

  “I told you so,” said Little Gus under his breath.

  The Vorem was a young male. He was stripped of his armor and wore a filthy, ill-fitting legionary’s uniform. His stringy black hair hung down in his eyes.

  “Fly me back to the Vorem battle cruiser Secutor immediately,” he commanded. I heard a desperate tinge in his voice. He looked wild, half-starved.

  “We’re not going to do that,” said Becky in Xotonian. “And if you hurt anyone, I’ll crash this ship. You’ll be a little purple stain on that big green planet, tough guy.”

  The starfighter rattled as we entered Kyral’s highest atmosphere.

  “Do as I tell you to do, alien female!” the stowaway shrieked.

  At that instant, Pizza flew at him. Somehow—quick as a thyss-cat himself—the Vorem dodged out of the way, and Pizza tumbled into the open cargo hold. He quickly slammed the hatch shut behind the beast.

  As he turned back to face us, Hollins’s fist caught him square in the face. The Vorem stumbled, and Hollins swung again. The second blow never landed, though. The Vorem blocked it with his arm and returned two hard kicks: one to Hollins’s stomach, the second to his face. Hollins’s head snapped back, and he dropped to the floor, unconscious.

  “That’s it! What did I tell you, guy?” cried Becky, standing from the pilot’s chair, her fists balled. Now the starfighter was shaking and bucking wildly. We were tumbling in an uncontrolled spiral toward Kyral.

  The Vorem hesitated. Perhaps he hadn’t expected her to carry through on her threat to crash the ship. Suddenly there was a flash. An arc of blue light leaped from his little weapon to Becky. For an instant, she convulsed as though every muscle in her body had contracted at once. Then she too fell to the floor of the ship. The legionary had taken out our two best pilots.

  Nicki stood but froze when the Vorem trained the weapon on her. Frantically, he pointed the weapon at each of us in turn: Nicki to Little Gus to me then back to Nicki. He was panting wildly. His plan, such as it was, was in as much of a downward spiral as our ship.

  Outside, the blackness of space had become a deep blue. The shade grew lighter with every passing second, as the density of Kyral’s atmosphere increased. Through the viewports, I saw flames as bits of debris burned off our hull. Inside, pieces of the ship were knocking themselves loose. Countless warning lights flashed. Our descent was far too rapid. The flight stick vibrated wildly. Somewhere Pizza roared in anguish.

  “Take me back to my ship!” he bellowed again. But none of us dared move. “Turn around and—”

  The Vorem gave a wordless cry as the shot from my blaster caught him in the arm. He fell back against the hull, and his strange little weapon clattered across the floor. Nicki grabbed it. Perhaps he hadn’t considered that we too might be armed.

  I held the energy blaster in my thol’graz, trained on him. I hoped he didn’t realize that I was terrified to fire the weapon again. If I missed, the shot might damage some vital system—or worse, tear a hole in the hull and depressurize the starfighter.

  Little Gus dove for the flight stick. Outside, I could make out the shape of individual rivers, rocks, and trees. But they were coming at us way too fast.

  Gus pulled up as hard as he could. I could feel the T’utzuxe straining to obey. Straining but failing. Nicki was yelling something I couldn’t understand.

  “I can’t hear you!” I cried.

  But she had already folded her head toward her knees. I saw the Vorem slowly close his red eyes in resignation.

  We crashed.

  Chapter Eight

  The ship hit Kyral. My face hit a sparking instrument panel. There was a continuous deafening roar that seemed like it would never end. I bounced off the floor. Or was it the ceiling? The shaking of the ship slowed and then stopped altogether. I tasted blood and heard the roar of fire. All around me the air was filled with thick black smoke. The warning lights had all gone out.

  Now Little Gus and Nicki were dragging Hollins away. And Becky wasn’t dead. She was moving, pulling herself up onto unsteady feet. I could hear Pizza mewling like a cub. I fumbled around until I found the latch of the cargo hold, and I released it. The thyss-cat burst out of the hold and scrambled past me through the haze. Instinct told it the way out. My own instincts felt dull and uncertain, so I tried to follow Pizza.

  Beside me a valve exploded in flame, and I fell flat on my z’iuk. If I had been human, the flare would have surely caused me to lose all my head-fur. Crouching down low, I found that it was easier to breathe. So I crawled like a cave slug toward the exit.

  My thol’graz brushed something. It was rubbery, pointed: a black boot. There was a le
g inside it. It was the Vorem. He was pinned between the hull and a heavy support girder. His uniform was slick with amber-colored blood. He’d been killed in the crash.

  Another ball of fire bloomed from a snarl of ruptured tubing. The whole ship was burning now. I’d worked with the starfighters enough to know that there were dozens of volatile compounds coursing through the ships’ inner workings. When the fire reached them, the T’utzuxe would explode.

  Over the flames I heard something: a quiet moan. I was wrong; the Vorem was alive! It would serve him right to die, I thought, since he brought this disaster upon us. I fumbled past him toward the exit.

  I stopped. I couldn’t do it. No matter how evil he was, I couldn’t just leave him to burn.

  I groped back through the smoke until I found the Vorem again. I wrapped all four of my thol’grazes around his leg and pulled with all my might. He didn’t budge. I pulled again. He was stuck fast beneath the girder.

  There was even more fire crawling up the inside of the hull. The smoke and the heat made it hard to think. Outside I could hear the human children screaming for me.

  I clambered back toward the bulkhead and found Eromu’s blaster lying in a sticky pool of coolant. I adjusted the weapon to its maximum power setting and pointed it at the girder that was pinning the Vorem down. Then I fired. A green bolt of energy leaped from the blaster and sheared a white-hot hole through the metal. But it wasn’t enough. I aimed and fired again. Finally, the girder shuddered and fell into two pieces with a shower of sparks.

  Summoning all my remaining strength, I somehow dragged the Vorem’s limp body—he was as tall as Hollins, at least, if not as heavy—across the deck of the burning starfighter and out onto the surface of a new world.

  I blinked in the bright sunshine and sucked in a gulp of air.

  “What are you doing, Chorkle?” cried Little Gus in disbelief. “Why did you save him? Dude is super, super evil!”