by Mike DiCerto
"Well, would you look at that,” Violet commented as the ship passed within seven hundred miles of the surface of the huge, glistening moon.
"I think it's quite lovely,” Poe 33 observed, gentle flute music enhancing his words.
With its seemingly infinite number of silver facets, each tossing back the starlight of Komquista with a unique reflective signature, the mirrored moon was impressive albeit the gaudiest object in the galaxy. The largest disco ball in the Milky Way, it was as if a glistening ocean of silver fire were roaring across its surface.
It was tethered to the Crystal Guise by two huge chains, each link the size of an average Major League Baseball stadium. The Crystal Guise itself was built on the colossal chassis of a Class A1 Generation Transport ship that had been customized for the style and taste of the Rock-star-gone-eschatological bandleader. Shaped like a twisted cross and coated in illuminated rainbow glass and mirrored steel, it was if the entire Vegas Strip, Times Square, Disney World and the Crystal Cathedral were the parts of its sum.
A strange, metallic whine filled The Moby Dick's cabin, followed by the screech of a warning alarm. A red light flashed. Violet turned to Caffrey, concerned.
"The escape pod,” Caffrey exclaimed, rushing to the stern. “It's getting itself ready to eject! Angie, quick—” Caffrey cut himself off as he remembered there would be no in-dash assistant.
Violet called out, “All the controls are dead!"
Caffrey fidgeted with them. “I can't stop its countdown. In forty-five seconds it'll eject!"
"And you will all enter the vaporizer and die rather horribly albeit quickly,” concluded Poe 33.
Violet eyed him accusingly, “We? What about you?"
"Oh, I can survive quite well in the harsh conditions of space. I can use the small control jets in my buttocks to guide my way to safety."
"I didn't know you had jets in your butt.” Caffrey was impressed despite the urgency of the situation.
"Yes, I do. I am also shielded with a thin but very effective heat coating to allow me to descend through the thickest of atmospheres without threatening the integrity of my wiring. In fact, I am sort of a wonder. An amazing conglomeration of design and function. Personality and practical design. Wit, charm..."
"Very good, Poe. Now shut up and get in the escape pod! You, too, Violet,” Caffrey ordered.
"You're going to abandon your ship?” Violet was stunned.
Caffrey rounded on her. “A desperate act for desperate times."
"That sucks!” railed Violet, grabbing her weapon belt and heading for the pod.
"Quickly, Poe.” Caffrey prodded the android, who was standing beside the control panel studying the flashing lights.
Caffrey grabbed his Willy, entered the pod and triggered the airtight seal. “Poe! Stop dawdling!"
Poe 33 turned and entered. Inside, Violet had already strapped herself into the small seat protruding from the wall. Caffrey helped the android do the same. Finally, he strapped himself in.
"Ten ... nine ... eight...” Violet counted along with the large green clock.
"Seven ... six ... five ... four...” Poe 33 continued.
"Three ... two ... one,” finished off Caffrey, not wanting to appear unsociable. Inside, he wanted to cry. He grabbed hold of the control stick.
With a jolt of the exploding bolts, the spherical craft shot away from The Moby Dick. Very quickly, the pride and joy of Caffrey's professional career receded from sight as they fell away. Although he'd sold her with no delusions of ever seeing her again, this parting held great sorrow.
"Goodbye, beautiful,” he whispered, gaining control of the pod's movements. With little bursts of tiny ion rockets, the craft settled into a smooth ride. Suddenly, music began. It came from Poe 33's mouth, but it was not his voice. It was not his usual background music. It was peppier—the Beatles’ “Yellow Submarine” played.
"Poe?” Caffrey smiled.
"I took the liberty of uploading your entire music library into my reserve data unit,” Poe 33 explained.
"Excuse me while I kiss this guy! When we land I will plant one right on your mouth!” Caffrey promised.
"I look forward to that with an odd and inexplicable anticipation."
"You'll get a kiss from me, too, Poe,” Violet smiled.
"I suppose we will have a veritable orgy once we land?” the android postulated. “Is this an appropriate choice? This song?"
"It is perfect, Poe. Perfect. Thank you."
"Have I ever told you about my experience with orgies?” Poe 33 began. “I was on Tryphlopo 6. I was alone in a large, floral-encrusted room with fifteen members of the Federal Likonese Marching Band..."
Caffrey smiled again, wider, and enjoyed the story.
The escape pod cruised toward the Crystal Guise, keeping pace with The Moby Dick. They would ride along with her to her unavoidable end. Ringo, Paul, George and John sang about life aboard the yellow submersible and all its implications. Caffrey managed to keep his tears inside, saddened deeply by his loss of Yin, Angie and his beloved spacecraft.
Deep within the memory chip of Caffrey's Willy there was a chuckle. Then a deep and smoky voice laughed aloud. Oafy was enjoying a celebratory guffaw at the expense of The Moby Dick. Her sabotage had worked. She pondered her next move.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The Grand Parade of Lifeless Packaging
Everyone's a sales representative,
Wearing slogans in their shrines.
Dishing out failsafe superlative,
Brother John is no. 9.
Genesis
Considering the circumstances, the next few hours passed quite pleasantly aboard the escape pod. Poe 33 kept the music going, playing a varied selection of upbeat tunes. They sipped from the titanium flask of Bezzie stored on board, and Caffrey entertained Violet and Poe with tales of his exploits aboard The Moby Dick. After ten hours, the debris disintegration port loomed large, the inner green glow of its vaporizers pulsing like death. Caffrey guided the pod a safe distance from The Moby Dick as the tug ray continued to haul the ship around towards the horrid inevitability.
Caffrey lifted his flask in a toast.
"May you ride the cosmic waves of the next dimension with the same grace and beauty with which you rode this imperfect existence,” he intoned, with a sincere tear in his eye.
"To The Moby Dick,” Violet toasted with an invisible glass and a small curled mouth.
"Unbada glinyada soyada,” was Poe 33's contribution. “It's a famous toast for luck and health used by the people of Yiplooska when bidding their soldiers farewell. It means ‘Handkerchiefs, chalk, wire brushes.’ Those are the staples for Yiplooskan society. It admittedly loses something in the translation."
"There she goes,” whispered Caffrey.
With an insignificant flicker, The Moby Dick flashed into nothingness like a moth in an emerald blowtorch. It was a painless death. Caffrey smiled wistfully.
Poe 33 bowed his head and, after a moment of silence, began another song from the library in his head. The opening bars of music were not that of a funeral dirge as one might expect after such an incident but rather had the joyous quality of a speakeasy piano. A tune of ragtime delight from Rock ‘n’ Roll souls. A song that lauded the philosophy that Yes, indeed, life goes on: “Oblidee Oblida!"
Although the dancing space was less than minimum, Caffrey stood up, his head arched under the low ceiling, and began dancing and singing along with the Fab Four. Soon Violet joined him with her supple and succulent limbs, while Poe 33, like a wallflower at a high school dance, bounced his shoulders in an attempt to find the rhythm. For the next few minutes, Caffrey forgot—almost—the loss of Yin, Angie and The Moby Dick.
* * * *
Caffrey guided the pod to the large square docking bay. A gate blocked entry into a long tunnel that gave further access to the ship. A voice crackled on the pod's speakers, startling the trio.
"Halt! Who goes there?” The words were delivered in
a manner cold and spooky—though they were rather pretentious and unoriginal.
Caffrey garnered his most pitiful-sounding reply.
"We are a couple of weary zealots who have come great distances to pay our respects and exaltations to the great and powerful Spydersloth Blaust. We have a very special gift to present to him."
There was a pause and the sounds of a muffled conversation accented by mocking giggling. A second voice spoke.
"For a couple of supposed zealots you have certainly not kept up to date on current events."
"I'm sorry?” Caffrey apologized.
"He no longer goes as Spydersloth Blaust. Hasn't for a year,” the voice announced pompously. “He is Spy-Blau."
"We kneel corrected. We have been out of the loop for many years as we made our way here."
"We have warehouses of gifts. Mostly tacky paintings and cheap shoes."
"Vulgar, indeed. No, our gift is something grander. But I couldn't possibly reveal it to anyone but the great and holy Arachnid himself."
"Ha! Impossible. He has a long chain of command, and I am the first link. You tell me, and I will pass it along. However, a reply is doubtful."
"But we have traveled so far!” Violet whined in a Yin-like whimper.
"I can only pass on the message. So, what is this gift?"
Caffrey looked to Violet with some uncertainty. She shrugged her shoulders.
"The one and only enigmatic Portsmith to the Great Wise L'Orange,” Caffrey announced, squinting his eyes in a defensive pose, expecting an explosion of laughter.
"Hold tight.” The static ceased; and Caffrey, Violet and Poe 33 sat in silence for a moment.
The static returned along with a deep, deep voice.
"How can you prove he is the true Portsmith, not a clever androidal forgery?"
"Are there any fake Portsmiths wandering the galaxy?” Caffrey queried.
"None that we are aware of. But..."
"Have you ever been lied to by the Guardian of the One?” Violet asked.
"No..."
"Have you ever walked down a dimly lit alley, only to be jumped, beaten, robbed and violated in embarrassing ways with small, furry rodents by a being who turned out to be the Portsmith to the L'Orange?” Poe inquired, joining in the questioning.
"Not that I can remember."
"Has there been any event in your rather superficial life that warrants the distrust of a superior albeit artificial creature such as he?” added Caffrey.
"No..."
"Then is it necessary to question his authenticity?"
There was a long, long pause of confusion-infused silence. Then, testily, “I guess not. Board, if you like."
"Never underestimate the shallow capability of the obsessed mind,” Caffrey concluded with a smile.
"Never, indeed,” agreed Poe.
The gate rose, and a strip of lights ignited in series down the long hall. The pod floated through the corridor, the gate closing behind them. A large sign flashed in numerous languages, warning the entering probe to halt. Caffrey brought the craft to a gentle stop; and instantly, walls of solid energy closed them in. The deep, deep voice spoke again.
"You may exit your pod. Please follow the signs to the Holy Arachnid Lounge. Wait there."
The trio emerged from the pod and headed toward the open door. On the floor, illuminated arrows blinked like runway lights, pointing the way.
* * * *
The Holy Arachnid Lounge reminded Caffrey of various New York dance clubs on Halloween. A diverse sampling of beings from every corner of the Plethorian Sector mingled in groups segregated by the atmosphere of choice, with each breathing mix kept separate by exotic energy fields. The room was quite large and shaped in a curvy, imperfect circle. The lights, alternating crimson, emerald and indigo, created colored pools. The drone of a thousand languages filled the air with gregarious tones. Caffrey, Violet and Poe 33 found themselves at a glass door looking into the lounge. A holographic Kelfkin appeared before them.
"Please choose your atmosphere of preference,” the bulbous, floating, fishy-looking thing requested. A list of over three dozen choices blinked into existence. Caffrey looked at Poe 33, who simply shrugged.
"Makes not a beeswax of difference to me. I have been amidst every imaginable atmosphere. Have you ever been to Grutus?"
"No,” Caffrey and Violet replied in unison.
"Cherry meringue,” Poe 33 explained with a smile.
Caffrey chose nitrogen-oxygen. The Kelfkin appeared again.
"Please follow me. Do not, I repeat, do not wander from the path."
The door opened, and a wash of oxygen-nitrogen blew back Caffrey's hair. The trio followed the floating creature through glass tubes running through the huge room like veins. Caffrey eyed the myriad beings he passed, recognizing some while being fascinated or repulsed by others. Finally, the Kelfkin led them into a large area filled with a gathering of a couple of hundred nitrogen-oxygen breathers.
"Wait here. The posh and wonderful Spy-Blau will be addressing you all momentarily.” The fish-faced Kelfkin hologram floated off.
Poe's face shimmered with a wash of red light and his body trembled slightly, as if a great chill had descended his spine. His expression suddenly became one of confusion. Caffrey noticed the android's change in appearance.
"Poe?"
"I am getting strange images on my visual matrix. Red. Ruby red. It is calling me,” he answered.
"Ruby red what?” whispered Violet.
"Red. Crimson. Warm. Perhaps blood. An emotional connection, similar to when I first met Quark Caffrey. I must make my way to a place called the Deck of Ruby Gilding. Immediately.” With that, the android simply wandered off. Caffrey and Violet exchanged a concerned look.
"I'll follow him,” Violet volunteered. Caffrey grabbed her by the soft, exposed skin of her luscious waist and pulled her back to him. “Don't let Poe out of your sight. I'll talk to His Eminence."
Violet turned and followed Poe 33.
* * * *
A thick cloud of fog emerged from the rear of The Crystal Guise, filling the huge volume of space between the ship and the mirrored moon with an artificial nebula. The largest artificial fog machine the galaxy had ever known was doing its thing. The white cloud accentuated the glistening lights reflecting from the millions of mirrors, rendering almost invisible the five large ships that were docking in the starboard ports.
Angie—the real Angie—traveled closer and closer to The Crystal Guise. She'd traversed impossible distances, risking the integrity of her Revenant sphere as she raced through the closing wormhole.
I'm almost back, love. Almost back, Angie thought as she watched the occupants of the five ships disembark.
Positioning herself closer, she identified Quigmo Digmo, Quagmo Dagmo, Ba Ba Banaki, Melagus Winstis and Scorthius Hild. They were the Five Heads of the Five Sectors—the top members of the galactic underworld. The Plethorian, Soronian, Janknorian, Zedlerian and Gyronian sectors all represented. This, Angie knew, was a first. Never had these five powerful beings gathered in one location. Something very big was going on aboard The Crystal Guise.
* * * *
Violet had a hard time keeping up with Poe 33. He'd beelined out of the Holy Arachnid Lounge and was making haste up a spiraling corridor. The slight but definite grade caused his knee servos to whine under the stress of the artificial gravity. It wasn't much easier for Violet's calves.
"Slow down!"
Poe 33 decreased his ascent. Violet jogged beside him and attempted to catch his determined eye, to slow him, sober him up a little.
"We might be heading right into a trap!” she warned.
"I understand. But it is all beyond my control. I feel odd. Ever since the scrambler was removed I have had an anxious buzz in my circuitry. Though the flashes of nihilistic qualms have gone, I feel like something lurks around every corner."
"And you can't resist peeking ahead?"
"Exactly. It's at once alluring
and horrifying. I have been able to keep it moderated. That is, until we boarded this ship. A feeling was released."
"A feeling?"
"Yes. At once happy and sad."
They came upon a hallway that leveled off and took them past a window running down its length, offering a beautiful view of the lights on the artificial nebula. At the end of the hall there was a long, narrow catwalk spanning a spectacular waterfall of neon lights. Poe crossed the bridge, and Violet called out to him.
"Poe! Would you please stay in sight!"
"No time to waste. I am close. I feel a familiar presence!” Poe 33 shouted, pushing his way through a set of pink chrome swinging doors. Past the doors was a narrowing walkway, covered with thick pink-and-red carpeting that led to a door of solid ruby. Poe 33 stopped before the door. Violet stepped up beside him, trying to catch her breath. She gasped out a few words,
"A ruby door. May I assume we've reached the Deck of Ruby Gilding?"
"Yes,” Poe 33 said in distant, slightly guttural tones. He knocked, and a lock mechanism was heard disengaging. The door opened on its own.
"Enter, mighty Portsmith,” came a voice from within the dark room.
Poe 33 and Violet entered. The door closed behind them. The size of the room was impossible to hypothesize, as it was nearly sans light. Only a barely visible glow of crimson broke the darkness. A face stepped into this glow. It was an old man. His hair was white, shoulder-length and rather wild, colored red by the light the source of which was a mystery.
"Hello, Poe 33. I am Greppledick Quark. I am your maker."
Poe 33 dropped to his knees with a metallic crunch.
"Thank your maker for your strong knees,” smirked Greppledick.
"Daddy,” said the android, like a child.
Violet was perplexed. “Daddy?” The next sound she heard was Poe 33 sobbing gently.
* * * *
The crowd came alive as a sweeping ring of royal purple light rode across the room, which closed to a point atop a crystal clear podium situated in the center. The crowds of lifeforms ran, crawled, floated and flew closer, desperately vying for the best piece of viewing room.
