by Mike DiCerto
"Are you okay?"
The Portsmith began to vibrate, shake and buzz. A small, crystal cylinder emerged from a slot on his lower back and fell to the ground with a musical report. Caffrey picked it up but had his examination of the object cut short as Poe 33, like a stalled car engine, restarted, his face coming to life as if nothing had gone wrong.
"I think you lost a part?” Caffrey suggested, holding out the cylinder.
Poe 33 ignored it. “I seem to be going through some technical difficulties. I have been ejecting parts of my own being for weeks in an attempt to remedy the problem. You were asking about the identity of the purple-eyed human?"
"Yes."
"She is part of an organization of some sort that prides itself on its secrets."
Caffrey looked away and seemed to be fishing for a memory. He turned and faced the android. “I seem to recall a rather gorgeous woman with purple eyes in Middle City. A fanatical fan of Spydersloth Blaust's music."
"Spydersloth Blaust has become anti-rhythmic. Defiantly non-lyrical. He is one of the numerous far-reaching arms of O.D.O.R."
"Odor?"
"Order Determined to Overthrow Reality."
"Why is she so interested in me?"
"She seeks the One,” Poe 33 explained flatly.
"L'Orange?” It was almost a rhetorical question. Yin resumed his genital maintenance.
"Yes. Mexu in the speech of the Prepinions. Seslyyynn in the exotic language of the Manik peoples. Grobduxbrug as spoken by the gruff but good-natured Hawkus tribe. O.D.O.R has plans in motion. They are awaiting the moment to strike. A moment when they can get their hands on the wisest substance known and use Its infinite knowledge to redesign the galaxy in their leader's warped image."
"I don't believe in L'Orange. It's a myth. A tale. A fable."
"In your isolated universe perhaps.” A jazzy tune began playing behind the android's words, with nice, soft cymbal brushing. “However, Quark Caffrey, I was not built to escort a figment of the Cosmos's imagination. I had set out on my thousand-year term as Portsmith. I lost the One exactly one thousand one hundred and seventy seconds after the Initiation Ceremony on Regal 9. Now it has become our responsibility. We will seek the One together. Can you leave in an hour?"
Caffrey laughed and, taking Yin in his arms, set off, hoping he would never again hear the music-enhanced voice of Poe 33. After three steps that dream bubble burst.
"Quark Caffrey. This is beyond free will. You will join me. Even I, the great Poe 33, cannot outwit the universe."
Caffrey laughed again and turned back to the android. “You don't understand, Poe. I already have."
He had set off again when a rather odd thing happened. The images pouring into his eyes smeared, like the photograph produced by a camera with its shutter left open for a couple of seconds. The world became one splotch of light and color.
To snap his vision back to normal, Caffrey tried to rub his eyes, but he couldn't feel his hands. In fact, the more he tried to settle himself, the more unsettled his body and mind became. Like a sudden panic attack, it snowballed. His heart palpitated, his face became beaded with cold sweat and his legs seemed to turn into tapioca pudding. Yin dropped to the ground as he tried to snap back to reality.
"Quark Caffrey?” Poe 33 asked with concern.
"Caffrey Quark,” a voice, perhaps in his head, echoed through the wash of color. “It's all in the song."
The universe melted away like a box of crayons on the surface of the sun.
* * * *
Caffrey thought his eyes were open. The bright sunlight was warming his face. He shielded his eyelids with his palm and stretched with long and twisty motions. Finally, after a medley of goofy expressions, he really managed to open his eyes.
He was under the covers of his own bed. He was confused—and understandably so. There wasn't that familiar pounding at his temples nor the mouth full of sandpaper and cotton that would have accompanied a prior night of one too many. He had consumed nothing more than a liter of water and a cold glass of lime and quinine before the gig.
"Get up, Caffrey, we have to talk,” insisted a calm but authoritarian voice.
Caffrey opened his eyes again and shot glances around the room. He was alone except for Yin sitting calmly at the foot of the bed, staring back.
"Did you hear that, Yin, or is your old master losing it?"
"I heard it because I said it. Now, please, Caffrey, I understand this is a bit unexpected, but we really do have to talk,” Yin explained as he jumped off the bed and trotted out of the room.
The world, for the second time in twenty-four hours, went black for Caffrey.
* * * *
Caffrey sipped his coffee and stared at Yin, who sat patiently on the sofa.
"You feeling okay?” Yin asked.
Caffrey could only stare in disbelief.
"Come on!” Yin said with a chuckle. “Would you rather I just roll over and let you rub my tum-tum?"
"That's behavior more appropriate for a Westie."
"Actually, Caffrey, I'm not a West Highland Terrier. I only look rather curiously like one. I'm a Frezenese Bopple. Although canine in appearance and temperament, we are of the genus Boplicanus."
"What's a Bopple from Frezenia doing on Earth circa these days?"
"What's a human who won't officially be born for another thirteen centuries doing living in a dive in the latter twentieth century?"
"My choice where I retire.” Caffrey was getting irritated.
"Touché. And it was O.T.H.E.R's choice to send me here to keep an eye on you until the Portsmith arrived."
"Other?"
"Order To Harmonize Eternal Reality.” Yin winked.
"But you're my bloody dog!"
"I am also a high-degree initiate in an exclusive society, who cares about the very essence of the galaxy,” Yin replied loftily. “But don't worry. I'm still your poochie-woochie wee potato."
Caffrey blushed. He stood up and paced, trying desperately to produce a mental movie of what had transpired the previous night. He was only able to envision a series of under-developed slides.
"What happened?"
"Beats the poop out of me,” Yin confessed. “You went into a sudden trance and wandered off. Poe 33 and I panicked. He took off, and I followed you home. You simply made yourself quite cozy under the covers. Slept soundly all night. I think the L'Orange may have attempted contact."
"Bullshit! Somebody slipped something into my tonic."
Yin seemed to smile but didn't push the issue.
Something was glinting under the rainbow of the refracted sunlight pouring in through the blinds. A small crystalline tube sat on the end table. Caffrey took it between his fingers and studied it. He'd seen it somewhere before but was too confused to pin down the memory.
Yin sniffed the tube disinterestedly. “That was left behind by Poe. Appears to be an electrical circuit of some sort. That android has some serious electronics issues."
"Yeah.” Caffrey rubbed his aching temples as Yin trotted off into the living room. He followed and watched as the Bopple jumped up beside the Victrola.
"I'm going to contact central command and inform them that alpha phase is complete,” Yin announced as he stuck his head into the brass horn.
Caffrey's mouth dropped open in stunned disbelief.
"You installed bloody communications gear in my Victrola? Do you realize how valuable that thing is? What the hell else have you had your fuzzy paws in that I don't know of? A homing device in the coffeemaker perhaps?"
"Don't be ludicrous,” reproved Yin. “Things will begin to pick up soon. You'd better put a polish to your wings—you'll be hitting the wild black infinity quite soon."
Yin's mumbling reverberated from the horn. The Westie look-alike then jumped from the ledge.
"I'll be making plans if you need me,” Yin advised, dashing under the sofa.
Caffrey shook his head incredulously. “And I always thought the little bugger was sha
gging his stuffed poodle under there."
* * * *
Caffrey sat at the upstairs bar of the Crimson Court Pub. Sam played air guitar along with the bootleg Led Zeppelin recording that blasted from the jukebox as band-mates Dave and Al played darts. Russ was bartending, as he did every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon. Caffrey was staring at the little crystal tube spinning on the smooth wooden bar like a top. As it slowed down he gave it another flick with his finger and watched it spin again, tossing sparks of colored light. He softly sang along with Robert Plant and daydreamingly recalled the first time he'd heard Jimmy Page's work aboard The Moby Dick. He inhaled the music and let it linger in his soul.
It was all an amazing circle. Caffrey looked across at the colorful plastic, wood-and-metal Groovy Tunes Jukebox, filled with the brand new collection of singles. What twisted act of tomfoolery had the Cosmos planned that would result in that very collection of Rock music drifting through the galaxy for hundreds of years?
He took a slug of beer as his mind drifted out the front window. His stomach did a little back flip. Standing across the street in a darkened doorway stood a tall and alluring figure. She was dressed from head to toe in leather and held a black briefcase. Her hair was like a sunless void and Caffrey's amazing “hot chick memory” instantly recalled his failed flirtatious attempt with this same black-haired beauty at the meat auction.
The glow of purple from her eye sockets, only partially shielded by her sunglasses, was quite apparent. Caffrey turned away and whispered to Sam, “Do me a favor, pal. There's a certain lovely I'm trying to avoid. I think she's gonna stop by and make nasty accusations. I'm sneaking out the back. If she asks for me, tell her I was disintegrated by the breath of a giant zweek."
Sam, used to the colorful rantings of Caffrey, gave him a “whatever the hell you just said, but okay” wave of his hand. Caffrey smiled in appreciation and headed toward the rear exit as Sam began playing with the little crystal cylinder he had left behind.
* * * *
Caffrey peered around the corner as the purple-eyed woman walked across the cobblestones to the echo of dominating boot heels. She stopped at the front door of the Crimson Court Pub, casually placed the case on the ground and opened the door.
Caffrey took a few concerned steps towards her. She bent down and pressed a button. A series of deep indigo blasts flashed into the pub. There were corresponding flashes from within, and then all the blue lights vanished, leaving the briefcase sitting on the sidewalk like a spoiled brat satisfied at having gotten its own way. Caffrey rushed over.
"Too late, Quark,” gloated the purple-eyed woman with a cockiness that made it clear she had known she was being watched the entire time.
Caffrey ran into the pub screaming for his mates, the panic in his voice building exponentially with each cry. They were gone. All that remained was an overturned pint of Guinness dripping huge, tear-like and rhythmic drops from the bar top. The jukebox was nowhere to be seen nor were various stools, bottles and glasses.
The woman followed him into the room, and he rounded on her, quivering with rage and anguish.
"What the hell did you do?"
"Relax, Quark. They're relatively safe."
"That's a relative term."
She tapped the box. “This is a holo-genetic scanner and transmitter. Your friends have been recorded as the four-dimensional frequencies that make up their being. Without all that unnecessary space between their atoms,” she added. “With proper compression the universe could fit on the head of a pin. There's a lot of space out there."
"Thus the name, I would imagine. They were going to call it ‘the really big expanse with all the stars and stuff,’ but it didn't have the same elegance."
She smiled and lured Caffrey back outside with an oh-so-hot shimmy. She pointed skyward. “You see that ship up there? Of course, you don't—it's the middle of the day. But trust me, Quark, it's there. It's where your friends will be kept.” She smiled, pushed another button and a single beam of light pulsed into the heavens. “They'll remain there until we've concluded with our need of you."
Caffrey felt his face turn red with anger.
"Bloody wench!” he seethed, knowing good and well it was a rather lame and corny retort. He was, however, so sincerely mad it was all he could conjure up at a moment's notice.
"When you decide to help me you can inform the Portsmith. I'm keeping a close watch on him. We will get the L'Orange. It'll be used to rework this horrid, music-drenched galaxy. Then a new era of disharmony and non-lyricism will befall reality."
"Bite me!"
"I don't think my teethmarks would help. And please remove any thoughts of killing me from your primitive mind. Remember, the fate of your friends is in my hands."
She walked off. Caffrey, unsure of his next move, stood motionless, following her down the street with his eyes, trying to ignore her luscious ass.
* * * *
Caffrey entered his building. He was angry, frustrated. He wanted to grab Yin by his furry neck and force him to explain the utter silliness that had entered his life. His violent thoughts were cut short by the blue-and-orange figure that awaited him in the front hall.
"Hi, Quark Caffrey."
"Fancy running into you here."
"It is exactly where I expected to find you."
"Why is that?"
Poe 33's voice warbled and buzzed; then his face fell dead. After a moment, he flickered back to life.
"Are you ready to join me on my quest, Quark Caffrey?"
"What the hell is wrong with you?"
"I continue to experience brief moments of confusion and panic. I believe it may be related to a part I mistakenly discarded."
Caffrey recalled the little crystal tube and privately panicked himself, remembering he had left it on the bar.
"I have discarded numerous parts in an attempt to remedy the problem. My self-diagnostics have found nothing."
"That doesn't seem to make sense. I don't yank out my intestines when I get gas."
"It would seem, admittedly, a rather moronic thing for such a brilliant android as myself to do. But I have not been myself of late, Quark Caffrey,” mourned Poe 33, an appropriate music track softly backing his words.
Caffrey couldn't help but smile at the eccentric robot.
"Will you join me on my quest?” pursued the android.
Caffrey shook his head in the negative, and then his expression changed. He cocked his ears as a definite look of concern filled his eyes.
"Trouble?” asked Poe 33, noting Caffrey's curious expression.
"No. Not at all,” Caffrey lied, and trotted up the steps.
The android followed him. On the third floor a soft burst of static sounded.
"My scanners detect a source hovering just above your head,” noted Poe 33.
The poofs and pops of static continued. A voice formed from the random noise. A silky and very familiar voice.
"Hello, Caffrey, my love."
"Angie?"
"Of course.” She had definite prickly spikes riding the waves of her voice.
"Where are you?"
"That must have been some exotic pack of cigarettes you went out for, you bastard!"
"Bastard? You sound perturbed.” Caffrey exhibited his concern. “Where are you?"
"There is a Revenant sphere1 five microns in diameter a meter from your nose,” Poe 33 explained.
"Yes,” Angie explained assertively, “I finally got out of the kitchen."
She was obviously ticked big time. Caffrey had always feared that the great random number generator in the sky would eventually set their paths on a collision course. He decided caution was appropriate.
"Angie, what are you doing here?"
"I was in the neighborhood. Plooky had a job on Sesilby 4. A couple of dead Upas needed frozen transport to Yistola for a family funeral. And since we were a few light-years from this dump of a planet I figured ‘What the hell?’”
"Who's Plooky?"
<
br /> "You've met him. He's the captain of The Moby Dick. And my heart,” Angie moaned, adding a sensual sigh for effect.
"Where's my ship?"
"Correction, Caffrey. Plooky and Xilpat's ship. And it's not The Moby Dick anymore. She was christened Spudlump,” Angie explained with an audible pout.
"Spudlump?"
Caffrey marched up to the fourth floor. He stopped for a moment outside his door and cocked an ear. He hadn't mentioned it to Poe 33, but the curious lack of barking from Yin had worried him when he first entered the building. There was, of course, the possibility the little pooch had gone to Radio Shack for parts, but Caffrey's gut twitched just the same. He opened the door and stepped into the darkened apartment.
"Yin? Yin, boy—you home?"
Caffrey flicked on the lights and found himself staring at the triple barrels of a pair of chrome-and-mother-of-pearl Sunpopper X-20s. The weapons were in the hairy paws of Plooky and Xilpat, the pair of Crebbledogs he'd last set eyes on eight years ago at the closing of The Moby Dick deal.
He privately noted they still smelled of mothballs.
"Sit down, Caffreysss,” Xilpat instructed with the usual Marweegian lisp. “You, too, Robotsss."
"Yes,” Angie insisted, “have seats, my loves."
"Angie, I shall never forgive you.” Caffrey cursed and took a seat on the sofa with Poe. “I thought we left each other on quite good terms? Why the hostile return?"
"Hostile?” Xilpat seemed hurt. “Why, Caffreysss, we are only here to ask a favor."
A-ha.
"We are on a journey. A quessst grander than the Uldafter Fomaster,” Xilpat drooled.
Plooky took over the explanation. “And we need your expertise to guide usss. Ssssomeone to map out the twistssss and dark corners of this huge but confusssing galaxy."
"What, as if I need to ask, is the purpose of this quest?” Caffrey asked witheringly.
"We seek the Blobuska. We have heard rumors that the Portsmith has been separated from his special cargo. Isn't that right, Mr. Android?"
"If I may say so,” agreed Poe with a sigh of sadness, “you are damned right."
"Our ship is atop thisss building. We are leaving. Now."
"We would need to pack,” Poe 33 stalled, giving Caffrey a warning glare.
