17
The Blobs Are Dying
Commodore Tn Vstschl’nn-Mrrflau came into Vt R’aam Thirty-Two’s room unannounced and shut the door firmly behind him.
“Why are you packing?” he demanded without preamble.
Vt R’aam Thirty-Two didn’t so much as look up, let alone stand to attention. “I’m going home, sir,” he said simply, stuffing some brightly coloured humanoid underpants into his kitbag.
The Principal found himself taking a deep breath. “I could get it out of you, Cadet,” he warned.
“I think you’ll find, Commodore, that my letter of withdrawal from the Academy’s in your morning’s mail: I’m not a cadet any more.”
The wide Whtyllian mouth tightened fractionally but the Principal said nothing more.
Vt R’aam Thirty-Two closed his bag and turned round. Strongly marked lines of tension from nose to mouth made him look very much older. “You’re wasting your time, Commodore,” he said grimly.
Commodore Tn Vstschl’nn-Mrrflau could see that sweat had started to the ex-clone’s brow but as his own hairline was now damp he wasn’t much comforted. However, it had been many years since he’d encountered any being with the mind-powers to withstand his. “I will break you, Clone,” he warned tightly.
Vt R’aam Thirty-Two’s face contracted in a grimace of pain but he said steadily: “I don’t think so, sir. Or only at the expense of your own mind.”
He was aware of a subtle shifting in attack and then the Whtyllian said lightly: “Very well, dear boy, have it your own way.” Unfortunately for him this was precisely the approach My Lord had taken on one of those languorous summer afternoons back on New Whtyll when they’d played mind-games on the shady verandah, with Madam asleep in her big swing and all the other clones and the Looghers dozed off, so Vt R’aam Thirty-Two maintained his shield. After a moment the older man’s handsome face turned greenish—lurghple-ish, Commander BrTl would probably have called it—and he gasped: “Vvlvanian curses!”
“Sir,” said the ex-clone with difficulty, “I shall tell you if you wish, but believe you me, you would be better off not knowing.”
Suddenly the agonising grip on his mind relaxed—it had felt as if a xrillion vice had been tightening relentlessly on his temples—and the Principal said with a sigh: “Very well, if I promise not to fly off the handle, which seems to be the image you’re broadcasting, will you tell me?”
“If you’d like to accompany me to the spaceport, yes, sir.”
“Er—very well. We can take my lifter.”
“That’s very kind, sir. I’ve called a bubble, but I’ll send it back.”
“Do that,” said the Principal sourly, allowing the fellow to bow him out.
Athlor had of course contacted his father about the blobs. Sending, as a precaution, three copies each of his own message and of Trff’s message to Jhl, plus the dead igno-blob. These had received the reaction he had expected, especially since all six message-blobs had survived the pwlding perfectly well. Lightly dismissive combined with lightly scoffing, was about it. Athlor hadn’t needed his mother to tell him to get hold of Vt R’aam Thirty-Two and tell him to order Trff and BrTl to grab Su and come home ASAP, he was already doing it.
Jhl had expected Vvlvanian-cursed Shank’yar to take precisely that attitude, so she wasn’t surprised. She was, however, steaming mad with the intergalactic idiot and sent him a recorder-blob in which she snarled: “Are you deaf or just so vain you can’t take anyone’s word for a thing? Bring my daughter home NOW!” This resulted in a lightly dismissive, smiling: “Jhl, darling, what are you panicking about? A couple of clapped-out blobs? I’ll send Su-Su home as soon as possible if it’ll make you feel better, but Trff’s still checking the PBTTs, and—” Jhl never found out and what, because she’d chucked the thing down the disposal.
She and Athlor were both immensely relieved to receive Vt R’aam Thirty-Two’s response to Athlor’s urgent message. It was a recorder-blob—actually it was three copies of a recorder blob, the ex-clone didn’t muck about, Athlor recognised with grudging approval—in which he bowed and said: “Your message received and understood, Lord Athlor. I’ve been concerned about the same matter myself, after speaking to Su and Trff. I agree, it would be stupid to take the risk of staying here. I’ll bring them all back ASAP. My very best respects to Madam. Vt R’aam Thirty-Two out.”
“Okay?” said Athlor, swallowing hard, as he realised tears were dripping down his mother’s cheeks.
“Yes. Sorry,” said Jhl, sniffing horribly. “There was a time—I know you won’t believe me—but there was a time when Shan could be just that cut-and-dried.”
“Mm. He’s getting old, Mum,” he said uncomfortably.
“Yeah. –It’s okay. I’ve known for years the Whtyllian side was taking over. But don’t worry, Vt R’aam Thirty-Two and Trff between them’ll get him back, whether he agrees or not.”
“Yeah,” admitted Athlor palely, tying not to imagine it.
“I’m going back to the Third Galaxy because the it-being suspects that the blobs may be, for want of a better word, dying,” said Vt R’aam Thirty-Two baldly, once Commodore Tn Vstschl’nn-Mrrflau had set the lifter’s course for the spaceport and sat back.
There were no arguments, protestations or exclamations: the Whtyllian’s mouth tightened fractionally and then he said evenly: “Give me the maths.”
“For what they’re worth.” Vt R’aam Thirty-Two passed on Trff’s maths.
This time there was quite a long silence. Then the Principal said: “And you’re assuming that a megazillion to one chance in the it-being’s terms is a certainty in any other being’s?”
“More or less,” replied the ex-clone calmly.
“Mm. I won’t go over all the possible caveats, not the least being the age of the individual Slp-Og V. Trff. But I am tempted to say that I didn’t anticipate that my Risk Management course would have this result, Vt R’aam.”
Vt R’aam Thirty-Two flushed slightly, registering that the man was no longer calling him by his clone name. “I’m with Lord Athlor: I’d rather look an intergalactic idiot than never see my home and family again. And if Trff’s suspicions have any foundation, it can only get worse.”
“Mm. Just out of interest, are you assuming that the accident with your PBTT is related?”
“I’m assuming it may be.”
“Very sensible,” he said grimly. “Let me see... Yes.” He picked up a comm blob, whistled a frequency into it and said: “Tn Vstschl’nn-Mrrflau. Many manga bats make light flight. Zero, three, zero, forty-seven. Activate graduated Meteo shut-down on my mark. Mark. Out.”
“There are the non-o-breather students, too,” murmured Vt R’aam Thirty-Two.
“Quite.” He whistled another frequency and said: “Code Seventy. –Ah, there you are, Kweee-ah Feee-ah Zwheee. –Yes, it is. I have to go to Intergalactica to speak to the Fleet Lords. Send all the non o-breather students home immediately, please. Code Seventy on top of that, thanks. You’ve got command. Out.”
Vt R’aam Thirty-Two took a deep breath. “Sir, I can pass on what evidence there is, but I have to say it, they may laugh at you.”
“They may cease laughing when it dawns that this is the explanation for the loss of all hands on the Destroyer Ku Mullan six IG months back,” he said grimly.
Vt R’aam Thirty-Two’s jaw sagged. “I—I thought it was a virus which—which affected all the crew.”
“That is what was given out to the public, yes. In actual fact there was a catastrophic failure of all life-support functions, not to mention,” said the Commodore grimly, “of the hyperdrive. To use your term, the blobs died. All of them.”
“Mm...” he said vaguely.
He was amending Trff’s calculations and not bothering to shield what he was doing. Commodore Tn Vstschl’nn-Mrrflau watched silently.
“You’re a better mathematician than I am, Vt R’aam,” he concluded, “but I’d say that’s about right. Get your people off—Friyria, is it? Yes, get them off there and back to your home world as fast as you can. Oh—you may need this to help you persuade Shank’yar,” he added, handing him a blaster.
“Sir, I’m not authorised to carry—”
“Show me your ID.” The Commodore blinked at it. “You are now,” he said drily. “Pity you can’t stay on, Vt R’aam, the Federation will need men of your stamp.”
“Thank you, sir. Um—” Vt R’aam Thirty-Two broke off, gnawing on his lower lip.
As he was broadcasting a very clear picture, which he must have had from the grim Hawtree himself—involuntarily, no doubt—of a clutch of fluffy brown Hawtree nestlings, the Commodore said without emphasis: “Commander Feee-ah Zwheee will do his duty. And there are tanks of h-breather in the Academy’s basements if the atmo-blobs die. But I think the Fleet Lords may agree to close the Academy while we regroup.”
“I would,” said the ex-clone in some relief.
Commodore Tn Vstschl’nn-Mrrflau’s mouth twitched very slightly. “Mm,” he agreed, patting his knee lightly.
Intergalactica was nearer but Vt R’aam Thirty-Two went straight to Friyria. He’d get Su out of it without wasting time on arguing with her father.
About two IG microseconds after he reached the farm Commander BrTl said: “We get it. Come on, Su, grab the plasmo-blasted Loogher and we’ll shake the intergalactic dust.”
Su was very pale. “What about Dohra and her family, though, BrTl?”
“Uh—” BrTl rolled an agonised eye for help at the ex-clone.
“They seem to lead a very simple life. They’ll be all right, Su,” he said as firmly as he could.
“Vt R’aam Thirty-Two, I can feel you don’t believe that’s true!” she cried.
“Well, uh, they will be all right so long as they avoid going in lifters.”
“Those restrainos he's got keeping that flock of grpplybeasts on his grass won’t be much good if their blobs croak,” noted BrTl.
“Look, I’d quite like to avoid a planetary panic, not to mention an intergalactic panic!”
BrTl goggled at him. Just to rub it in he sent emanations of goggling.
“Don’t emanate,” said Su, biting her lip.
“All right, but for Federation’s sake! Have you met Captain Ccrainchzzyllia?”
“No,” said Vt R’aam Thirty-Two simply.
“Uh—oh, nor you have. Sorry. He’s a very sensible being.”
Vt R’aam Thirty-Two waited but there was no suggestion of “for a Friyrian.” “Very well, Commander, I’ll speak to him if you think it wise.”
“Yes. I think he’d grasp all those algorithms you were politely trying not to broadcast, too,” he noted. “—Where is the plasmo-blasted Loogher?”
“She’s just grazing on the back lawn. I’ll get her.” Su hurried out.
“He’s coming,” BrTl assured the ex-clone.
“I see.”
After a few moments a handsome elderly male-tended Friyrian came in.
“This is Vt R’aam Thirty-Two, sir,” said BrTl simply.
“How do you do, Vt R’aam Thirty-Two? Please do give me the maths,” he said tightly.
BrTl didn’t bother to concentrate, the fact that all the blobs on the plasmo-blasted Ku Mullan had died was more than proof enough for him—more than.
“I see. I entirely agree with your conclusion,” said Ccrainchzzyllia grimly. “I’ll speak to Dohra and the children. Will there be room on your PBTT if we opt to come with you?”
“Yes. Baggage will be limited, however.”
He nodded. “Thank you. The family is just coming.”
As he spoke they hurried in, followed by Su and Phyoowella. Vt R’aam Thirty-Two had already picked up Commander BrTl’s picture of the family and he was of course familiar with his picture of Dohra: nevertheless he was pleasantly surprised by the fact that there was no outcry when Captain Ccrainchzzyllia asked him to explain the situation. They were, of course, all very taken aback. Dohra went very pale and her bond-partner put his arm around her. She obviously didn’t understand the maths at all but she grasped the main point clearly enough. The boy, Brtelli, struggled to grasp the maths but the turquoise-skinned younger sister, Jhlelli, had no difficulty with the algorithms. Hallikalli, the girl with the long, silvery hair, didn’t even try to understand, but like her mother she understood that he wasn't panicking or exaggerating. The tall, pretty Wessy Kally who was the adopted much older daughter didn’t understand anything clearly but simply accepted what she was told because her parents were accepting it.
“You must all go to the Third Galaxy with BrTl and Su if you wish,” said Ccrainchzzyllia levelly. “New Whtyll is undeveloped: still very much a pioneer world. Life will be hard there, but safe, I think.”
After a moment Brtelli ventured: “But do you want us to go, Father?”
“I want you to do what you think is best. I’m sure we could manage here on the farm without blobs, with a little preparation, but I don’t think that life on Friyria will be either comfortable or safe for friymanoids or, indeed, any minorities: in crises which affect the wellbeing of an entire race, its members tend to band together to exclude those whom they regard as outsiders. Extermination is the usual option: legally sanctioned, if there’s any sort of government in charge.”
“They hate us anyway,” said Wessy Kally in a small voice.
“Yes,” agreed Brtelli on an uncertain note.
“They hate Mother, too!” burst out Jhlelli.
Dohra said nothing: she looked fearfully up at Ccrain.
The chiselled turquoise nostrils flickered. “Yes,” he said evenly. “One has to weigh up one’s duty to one’s immediate family and one’s duty to one’s world, in such a situation.”
All his children were now looking at him with expressions of naked fear.
“Had I bond-partnered with a Friyrian there would be no question: I would stay,” he said on a grim note.
“Ccrain, if I'm only going to make it worse for you, I could go home to C’T’rea,” said Dohra in a shaking voice.
“My dear, that’s out of the question, it’s a highly developed, urbanised world. One can imagine very clearly the majority of the population being stranded in those huge slot-towers you’ve shown us so often.”
In fact she was showing them them now; Vt R’aam Thirty-Two and Su both recoiled.
“Yes, much worse than Intergalactica,” said Ccrainchzzyllia evenly.
“Yes,” agreed Su in a tiny voice. “New Whtyll’s nice, Dohra.”
“That’s it,” agreed BrTl to her picture of it. “I’d say the sky was a bit greener than that, though. –That’s Jhl’s grass. Um, garden, is it, Su? Oh, yes: garden. Fruit trees. Those spiny things are ban-ban-bans. Most beings don’t eat the green parts.”
“I see! They’re a sort of edible cactus!” cried Dohra. “That’s a very clear picture, Su! Ooh, and is that Gr’mmeayan jasmine? Look, Ccrain, isn’t it lovely? So, um, could an ordinary being have that in their garden, Su?”
“Yes, ’course. Most beings have all those flowers and fruit, and vegetables as well, only see, not the ban-ban-bans, ’cos not many beings like them.”
“That jasmine stuff smells,” warned BrTl. “It gets up both your noses.”
“I know,” agreed Dohra, smiling at him. “I like it, though.”
“It takes all sorts to make a Known Universe,” he replied groggily.
“Um, anyway,” said Su, eyeing Ccrainchzzyllia uneasily, “an ordinary family always has a garden on New Whtyll, if they haven’t got an actual farm.”
“Father, it sounds lovely,” said Hallikalli timidly. “Like here, only—only safer.”
Brtelli took a deep breath. “Yes. Look, speaking as a friymanoid, I don’t feel I owe Friyria anything. I’m grateful to have had the life I’ve had, but if Father hadn’t come from a wealthy family, how much of this do you think we’d have managed? Federation, if it wasn’t against IG law, they wouldn’t even have given us an education! That plasmo-blasted private school wouldn’t accept Jnkalli because he was a friymanoid, remember?”
“You’re right,” said Jhlelli grimly. “I’m going with Su and BrTl.”
“Yes, me, too,” Brtelli agreed. “Well, Hallikalli?”
The silvery-haired girl’s huge pale blue eyes filled slowly with tears but she held her pointed chin up and said firmly: “I’m staying with Mother, whatever she chooses.”
“So am I,” agreed Wessy Kally, putting her arm round the girl’s waist.
“Dohra?” said her bond-partner mildly.
“I’ll do whatever you do, Ccrain.”
The handsome Friyrian still looked grim but he said evenly: “I’ve decided to leave. I’ve made no progress with friymanoid rights since we bond-partnered and I feel it would be futile to stay and pursue the cause under the worst of conditions. –Yes, BrTl, definitely a Lost Cause.”
BrTl sagged visibly. “Exactly, sir!”
“There comes a point when one has to put the future of one’s own family first.” He rubbed his pointed chin. “Ah—may I contact my half-sibling, Lleeayssnillia, about this, Vt R’aam Thirty-Two?”
Vt R’aam Thirty-Two blinked slightly at the vivid picture of a beautiful, slender, silvery-haired female-tended Friyrian that Dohra was broadcasting. “Yes, of course, Captain Ccrainchzzyllia.”
“S/he’s lovely, isn’t s/he?” said Dohra, smiling at him. “Very clever, too. Now that her/s children are all grown up s/he's in politics, s/he’s been working very hard for friymanoid rights.”
Captain Ccrainchzzyllia produced a small comm-receiver from the pocket of his coveralls and whistled the frequency.
The lovely turquoise face with its huge, slanted golden eyes gave him a puzzled smile. “Ccrain, darling, this is the emergency frequency. Is everything all right?”
“Yes, immediately. I have something very serious to tell you, however. The friends I mentioned to you are here, Lleeayssnillia: BrTl and Su Vt R’aam. And so is Vt R’aam Thirty-Two, Su’s father’s former clone and a trusted friend. He’s just brought some information which will affect us all.”
... “I see,” said Lleeayssnillia as he ended his bald statement. “I agree you should all go, Ccrain. If we couldn’t get even a very much amended Constitutional Amendment 1602 through last year, there isn't much hope of improvement if our civilisation falls apart, is there? I’ll wait until you’ve left the two galaxies and then I’ll warn the Cabinet. I think they’ll probably decide not to tell the public, but at least we may be able to institute precautionary measures.”
“Yes. Disguise it as a return to the simple of ways of our ancestors, or some such.”
“Exactly.” Her bell-like voice shook for the first time as she added: “So—so you’re all going, Ccrain?”
“All of us here, yes. I shall speak privately to Jnkalli, but he will of course do his duty,” he said tightly.
“Yes,” Lleeayssnillia agreed. Her neck-gills opened and closed once. “So when are you leaving?”
“I—I think straight away, Lleeayssnillia,” faltered Dohra.
“Yes,” said her bond-partner tightly.
“I see,” said Lleeayssnillia on a firm note. “So this is goodbye, Dohra, darling.”
Dohra’s eyes had filled with tears. “Goodbye, Lleeayssnillia. I’ll miss you.”
“Mm,” agreed her bond-partner, putting his arm round her and pulling her closely into his side. “Goodbye, Lleeayssnillia. The family honour lies with you.”
“Goodbye, Ccrainchzzyllia,” replied his sibling. “Off!”
The comfortable living-room of the farm rang with silence as her image vanished.
“One small bag each, children, I think,” said Ccrainchzzyllia. “And quickly.”
His children hurried out and there was a short silence.
“There’s Bzzllgrybbna and Sblgrinnyllea,” said Dohra in a small voice.
“We’ll just tell them the family’s going for a short holiday. Lleeayssnillia will see to everything once we’ve gone, darling.”
“Okay. What about Goosey?”
The Friyrian ran a hand over his silvering indigo hair. “It’s a po-goose,” he said heavily to the visitors.
They could see that, actually: Dohra was broadcasting a very clear picture of it. A fat grey C’T’rean po-goose. Presumably Phyoowella didn’t like it: she was certainly producing a noise that was halfway between a keening and a growl.
“’Tisn’t an it, at all, she’s a she,” said Su to Vt R’aam Thirty-Two with a defiant look on her round face. “She’s a pet, she’s a great-grandmother goose.”
“Dohra, the creature won’t be able to breed without a gander,” warned her bond-partner heavily.
“No, sir, we’ve got a lot of po-geese on New Whtyll!” cried Su loudly.
“Yes, we have,” agreed Vt R’aam Thirty-Two. “Phyoowella doesn’t like them, either,” he noted drily. “If they’ll let you take it off-world and onto Intergalactica, madam, by all means bring it—uh—her.”
Dohra beamed at him. “Of course they will! She’s been chemo-blobbed against b’x-fever and everything!”
There was a short and in some cases stunned silence.
“She means coop pest, but yes, it’s had more chemo-blobs than I have,” said her bond-partner resignedly. “Very well, darling, run and get Goosey. I’ll speak to the servants. Please excuse me, Vt R’aam Thirty-Two. We’ll be with you in ten IG minutes.” The long mouth twitched fractionally. “Or I’ll know the reason why,” he murmured, going out.
There was a short silence.
“See?” said BrTl.
“Er—yes,” conceded Vt R’aam Thirty-Two. “Su, you’d better get your bag. Let me take Phyoowella’s hand.”
“What? Oh. Well, those stupid dresses can stay behind, at any rate!” Su resigned the Loogher to him, and hurried out.
“Uh—yes, of course, Commander BrTl, contact the cognates!” said Vt R’aam Thirty Two as it dawned what those gloomy emanations were about. “I’m so sorry, I should have thought of it before.”
“That’s all right.” BrTl fumbled in a leg pocket of his Service greige coveralls. “You'd better work,” he warned the comm-blob, baring his crunchers at it.
It wasn't the moment but the ex-clone found he was trying not to grin. “Or?” he murmured.
“Or I’ll try closing my crunchers very delicately on it. I have, before,” he admitted.
“What happened?”
“Not what you might think. The plasmo-blasted thing split neatly in two, and Trff salvaged it for the drive. –If that waggling thing with the fur over your eyes is some sort of humanoid signal, it’s lost on me.” He tried the frequency. “Nothing.”
“Mm.”
“Mind you, it’s an old one, it was never all that magma-pit-hot.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’ll try again.” BrTl tried again. This time he reported: “Actually I think it is working, they’re just not answering.”
“Mm. Grazing out beyond the last black hole?”
“You could be right. Uh—hang on. Hullo, BrDv, it’s me.—Yeah, ’course ya do.—Yeah, got that. No, Trff’s not doing it, I’m really on the plasmo-blasted dump. Actually it’s not bad, this bit’s got nice grass. ...Yeah, the blobs have started doing that, that’s why I’m calling up. Lifters are gonna be no-go. And they’ll have to go back to knocking grpplybeasts over the head the old way. Anybody using restrainos? –No, didn’t think so. ...Well, have to take their chances along with the rest of Space Fleet, eh? ...Extraordinary Leave On Compassionate Grounds? But what’ll they be?” His powerful frame shook slightly. “Goddit! Well, Federation, BrDv, if the senior cognate didn’t get it the whole way through the cognate’s funeral— Exactly! ...Nah, thought I'd go back to the Third Galaxy, Jhl’s over there, ya see. ...Okay, you too! BrTl out!”
“Dare I ask,” said Vt R’aam Thirty-Two very, very faintly, “exactly how the xathpyroids are planning to justify the recall of all xathpyroid Service personnel on compassionate grounds?”
“Not all, just the Br-cognates from New Qrbgg, to start with,” he said calmly. “Thought you were better than that?”
“Commander, I rather think the entirety of the Br-cognates were reinforcing BrDv’s shield during that call!” he said forcefully.
“Oh, were they? Well, coulda been, mm. Those that weren’t busy doing something else. No, well, BrDv’s gonna be on her last two legs—” He looked doubtfully at the ex-clone’s two humanoid legs. “Um, it’s a xathpyroid saying—”
“I understand. –Moribund,” he muttered.
“Eh? Oh! That’s a good one! Moribund, eh? Yes, well, on her last two legs, not to be anything-ist, and she’ll want to arrange the just disposition of her property, and to say a last goodbye to all the Br-cognates, because she’s a very senior cognate and we don’t recall them for anything less.” Very slowly he closed one round, brown, luminous eye at him.
Vt R’aam Thirty-Two thrust a hand through his neat Whtyllian hair. “Well, good luck with it!”
“Thanks. It’d be anything-ist to question it, you see. Besides, they’ll all be reinforcing it, don’t think they’ll have that many problems.”
No, quite.
“Um, what about S’zaan and the cognates on Bluellia?” said BrTl cautiously.
Great steaming piles of mok droppings, how many more— “Yes, I know she’s sensible. Contact her by all means, but listen. Just tell her it might be an idea not to use blobs more than they have to, okay?”
“Right! Hullo, S’zaan!” he said happily. “It’s BrTl here! ...No, just calling to say we’ve had enough: going back home. ...Well, yeah, five IG microseconds with the third cognate would have that effect on me, I gotta admit! ...Love to G’gg: yes, got that. Oh, something else: Trff’s spotted a few funny blobs, so if I was you I wouldn’t use that clapped-out lifter of Bhl’s, or any other lifter, come to that. …Nah, bubbles could be a bit iffy, too. …Yeah, ix-nay on the obs-blay! Hang on, S’zaan, here’s Su. –Just saying goodbye,” he said pointedly, handing her the comm-blob.
“Hullo, Aunty S’zaan. ...Yes, it was a bit much. I s’pose Uncle J’f meant well, though. ...No, it’s not just one of Trff’s potty ideas, Mum thinks maybe we might be better off not relying on blobs for anything. …I know: the horrible PBTT did make ya think twice about the plasmo-blasted things, eh? Is Uncle Bhl home? ...Oh.”
“Down the qwlot house,” said BrTl helpfully.
“Ssh! –Give him a kiss from me, Aunty S’zaan. And thanks for having us all: it was really lovely.”
Her voice now had a distinct wobble in it. BrTl grabbed the comm-blob back and said: “Gotta go, S’zaan. Thanks for everything. BrTl out.”
“Good. That’ll do, I think,” said Vt R’aam Thirty-Two on a brisk note.
Su’s face fell. “But—”
“No. Not even Prince Rh’aiiy’hn,” he said firmly. “In any case, if we did tell him, I’m sure he’d choose to stay.”
“He’s right, Su: Need-To-Know Only. And the being always did have an over-developed—highly over-developed—sense of duty,” BrTl admitted. “He’d do something silly like reporting the thing to the Council of the Federated Worlds.”
“Yes,” Vt R’aam Thirty-Two agreed. “They’ll be okay, Su, I can’t think of a better place to be than Novatroonia.”
“Mm, that’s true. And Drouwh’s family’ll be better off on Old Rthfrdia than most places, it's very traditional... What about Aunty Lle’onee’ya and Uncle J’f and—and R’shn and all the family on Whtyll, though?” she asked in a shaking voice.
“That Wopsy being you told us about’ll be DOA, that’s for sure,” noted BrTl. “Blob-driven throughout.” He looked at Su’s drooping pink face. “They’ll have to take their chances with the rest of the two galaxies, Su. We can't risk a panic.”
“No,” said Vt R’aam Thirty-Two with a shudder.
“No,” agreed Su, gnawing on her lip. “You’re right.”
Leader Lord Shank’yar Vt R’aam of course greeted Captain Ccrainchzzyllia, his bond-partner and his four children with immense courtesy. When they’d retired to the Guest Rooms of his palatial suite to freshen up, however, he produced a light laugh and: “What in Federation are you doing with all these friymanoids, Vt R’aam Thirty-Two?”
“Only four!” snapped Su before the ex-clone could speak. “They’re our friends, and they’ve decided to emigrate to the Third Galaxy, and don’t say we don’t need the DNA!”
“Er—po-goose DNA too, do we?”
“Yes! She’s a pure-bred C’T’rean po-goose, miles better than those things in your poultry-yard!” said his little daughter scornfully.
“In my— Forget it. Some whim of your mother’s. If you’re set on going home, Su-Su, just make sure you don’t put Phyoowella anywhere near its cage on the PBTT.”
Su stuck her chin out. “We’re all going home, Dad. You as well.”
“Nonsense!” he said, doing the light laugh thing.
“Yes.” –Trff! Get in here ASAP! That’s an ORDER!
It bobbed in, emanating vagueness.
“You-it can stop emanating, Trff,” said Su grimly. “Vt R’aam Thirty-Two needs you.”
“It knows. –He-it’s normal now, BrTl.”
“Uh—yeah, think we established that some time back, Trff,” BrTl agreed, eying Leader Vt R’aam uneasily. “Well, um, over to you, Vt R’aam Thirty-Two.”
Shank’yar had of course perceived that the ex-clone was shielding something from him but he was pretending to himself that he wasn’t bothering to look, because it’d be something negligible. He was also pretending to himself that he didn’t have a strong feeling that if he did try to look, he’d fail.
“Now, come along, Vt R’aam Thirty-Two!” he said briskly. “I’ve agreed that Su-Su can go back to the Third Galaxy, since her mother seems to have worked herself up into a state, but you can pop straight back to the Academy. Dare say it’ll only be fifty demerit points, popping off on urgent family business without a pass, eh?”
“I’ve resigned from the Academy, sir. I’m taking you all home rather than run the risk, which we have now established is a real risk, of being stuck here and never seeing Madam and home again.”
“Not to say, setting off five IG months down the track and never getting there,” added BrTl.
“Yes,” agreed Vt R’aam Thirty-Two flatly.
“If this is something to do with that nonsense of Athlor’s—”
“It isn’t nonsense. My Lord Athlor’s suspicions were correct. I’ve spoken to Commodore Tn Vstschl’nn-Mrrflau, and his evidence that the disaster on the Ku Mullan was due to catastrophic blob failure has reinforced our deductions. Trff, please give Lord Vt R’aam the maths.”
It was, of course, already doing so.
After a moment Shank’yar went very pale and staggered.
“Federation,” muttered the ex-clone, springing to put a supporting hand under his elbow, two IG microseconds after BrTl had shot out a pseudopod to the other elbow. He had envisaged quite a few reactions from My Lord when the reality of their situation dawned, but this, frankly, hadn’t been one of them.
“Thank you, Commander,” said Shank’yar shakily.
“Help him to a seat, BrTl,” said Vt R’aam Thirty-Two. “Er—not a corner, I think.”
“Eh? Oh—no; forgot you weren’t a senior cognate, sir!” said BrTl in a rallying tone, assisting Leader Lord Vt R’aam to a flop couch. “Shot of qwlot here! Make it Jangir’s Old Smoky!”
Shank’yar took the shot glass in a trembling hand. “Those calculations cannot be correct,” he croaked.
“Well, yes,” said BrTl kindly. “Trff isn’t too magma-pit-hot on stuff like humanoid emotions and, um, what were those other ones? Things in the blood or whatever the being uses for blood, not to be anything-ist. But it doesn’t make mistakes in maths. It is a shock, of course, sir. Means we can all go home to Jhl ASAP, though.” He looked at him hopefully, emanating hopefulness.
Su reached up a hand to him. Tolerantly BrTl shot out a pseudopod for her to hold. “We’ll be all right, Dad,” she said on an anxious note. “Vt R’aam Thirty-Two thinks we should leave right away.”
“Buh-but Federation—” he stuttered, passing a hand across his face. “The blobs— What guarantee is there that the Vvlvanian-cursed PBTT will ever get us there?”
“No guarantee,” said Trff placidly.
That’ll do, Trff. Rhetorical question, sent Vt R’aam Thirty-Two steadily.
Oh, yes. Sorry. It hunched into its fluff, emanating glumness.
“You’re emanating, Trff,” warned Su. “Of course there’s no guarantee, Dad, but it seems to be gradual—there’s another word but I’ve forgotten— All right, exponential, don’t all mind-deafen me at once!”
—sequentially? came a faint, puzzled echo of a query from Trff.
“No, don’t mind-deafen me at all, Trff,” said Su with a sigh. “We get it, you-it’s upset, too. Wanna go back to your blobs?”
“It can do it from— Oh. Yes, please. –It’s given him-it the maths now, Vt R’aam Thirty-Two,” it said, emanating hopefulness.
Vt R’aam Thirty-Two bit his lip. “Mm. Thanks, Trff. You’ve done well. Off you go.”
It gave him a wobbly salute and bobbed out,.
“The last time it got like this—” BrTl thought better of it and shut up like a dendrion nut.
“Never mind, BrTl,” said Su kindly. “The thing is, Dad, it’s like, exponential, and if we go right now we’ve got a better chance than if we wait. Don’t send me that stuff about haphazard and random and all those numbers, we all know whatcha mean. If we strike a bad blob we strike a bad blob. But Trff’ll test them all and bring loads of spares, we can’t have a better chance than that!”
“I should never have listened to your mother and let you come over here!” Shank’yar’s shot glass chattered against his teeth,.
Cold? Adjust the tempo-blobs? BrTl asked the ex-clone.
It’s just nerves. The qwlot’ll help.
Nerves? Oh, right. Got it. Um, didn’t think he had that sort.
All humanoids do. “BrTl,” said the ex-clone kindly, “perhaps you could fetch My Lord a nice warm cloak.” –It’ll help the qwlot to calm the nerves.
“Uh—sure. Uniform cloak?” he groped.
“That’d be fine.”
Emanating relief, BrTl went out.
“I don’t want a plasmo-blasted cloak!” said Shank’yar testily.
Su came and sat beside him. “Yes, you do, Dad. It’s okay, we’ll get back to Mum, we’ve got the best chance in the Known Universe.”
“Stop treating me like a half-wit!” he shouted.
Su looked helplessly up at Vt R’aam Thirty-Two.
“It’s been a shock, my Lord. We all of us felt it.”
“A shock! Look at her! She’s as cool as blue ice!” he cried, glaring bitterly at his daughter. “To think I never saw you had so much of your mother in you!”
“She has, yes,” said the ex-clone steadily. “But as well, she’s had longer to think about it.”
“Yes,” agreed Su anxiously, “’cos me and Trff, we talked about the blobs dying ages ago, and then we had a talk about it before I went to Friyria, eh, Vt R’aam Thirty-Two?”
“That’s right,” he said, as BrTl came in with Leader Vt R’aam’s cloak. “Thanks, Commander,” he said mildly, taking it from him. “Please allow me to wrap this round you, My Lord. Madam would wish it.”
“Emotional blackmail,” replied Shank’yar grimly. “Very well.”
Possibly he didn’t realise he was doing it, but as the ex-clone swathed his legs with the cloak he grasped it tightly and hugged it to him.
Silently Vt R’aam Thirty-Two handed him another shot of qwlot. “Yes: order one for us all, thanks, BrTl,” he agreed with a sigh.
“Too strong for Su,” BrTl reminded him. “Um... hot cotty!” he remembered brilliantly. “Dohra likes that!”
“It’s got New Rthfrdian grapefruit juice in it as well as a small measure of qwlot, and, uh, warm water, I think,” said Vt R’aam Thirty-Two on a weak note as Su took it dubiously. “And some sort of sugar.”
She tasted it gingerly. “Ooh, lovely!” she beamed.
The levels in the qwlot glasses had sunk considerably and Su was more than halfway through her hot cotty when her father said querulously: “Look, we can’t go yet, Trff hasn’t finalised its research into the plasmo-blasted PBTTs! And Federation, I can’t just blast off to the Third Galaxy without warning the Federal Government of the Federated Worlds of the Two Galaxies! I’ll have to ask for an audience with the Council—no, curse it, they’ll think it’s about the relay stations again, they’ve been finding excuse after excuse—well, might do it through the Ambassador: yes, that’d be best— Federation, the ramifications are— All the World Shields will collapse! And great steaming Vvlvanian magma pits, every ship in the Fleet—”
Vt R’aam Thirty-Two took a very deep breath. “Sir, Trff is an engineer, when do they ever finalise their research? You saw the chances of the PBTT getting us home intact, and with the blobs deteriorating exponentially, those chances are not going to improve. The rest really isn’t our responsibility. The Third Galaxy and New Whtyll are what we should be thinking about. There are several industries relying on blobs, now: we need to warn them to find other methods. But as I mentioned, I have spoken to Commodore Tn Vstschl’nn-Mrrflau, and he’s taken it upon himself to contact the Fleet Lords. I’m sure they’ll be able to alert the IG Government discreetly, without risking an intergalactic panic.”
There was a short silence.
“‘IG Government’?” quoted Shank’yar very sourly indeed. “You’ve changed your tune, Vt R’aam Thirty-Two.”
“Very well, the Federal Government of the Federated Worlds of the Two Galaxies, if you prefer.” There was a tiny pause. Then Vt R’aam Thirty-Two’s elegant Whtyllian nose wrinkled a little and he said: “But it’s all IG to me.”
“YEAH!” cried Su loudly. “See? ’Tisn’t your job any more, Dad!”
“None of it appears to be,” he said bleakly. “But—Asteroids of Hhum! The Fleet—”
“Doubtless the Fleet Lords will institute a gradual recall,” said Vt R’aam Thirty-Two steadily.
“Personally I’d tell ’em to find the nearest habitable planet and sit there,” noted BrTl. He set his shot glass down with a snap. “Well, get ’em boarded, shall I, Vt R’aam Thirty-Two?”
The wide Whtyllian mouth tightened fractionally. “Yes. Thank you, Commander BrTl.”
Shank’yar staggered to his feet, entangled in his cloak, his cheeks whitening. “No! Wait! Rhan!” he gasped.
Vt R’aam Thirty-Two sprang forward to take his arm. “Sit,” he said grimly.
Shank’yar sank onto the flop couch, trembling violently. “Rhan: we can’t leave him!”
“He means Prince Rh’aiiy’hn. Only calls him that when he’s upset, must be those humanoid nerve things again. Uh—first of the culture-pod cognates, think that’s it,” said BrTl, eying Shank’yar uneasily.
“Yes, his eldest son.”—Get him another shot, quick!—“My Lord, Prince Rh’aiiy’hn is on Novatroonia, it’s a very undeveloped world and he’s in the most undeveloped part of it: I don’t think he has a blob in the house. There’s nowhere safer he could be in the whole of the two galaxies.—Thank you, BrTl.” The ex-clone took the glass and held it to Shank’yar’s lips.
“I thought we ought to bring him, too, only Vt R’aam Thirty-Two’s right, he’ll be the safest of all of them,” said Su in a small voice as her father gulped the spirit and a little colour returned to his cheeks.
“Lurghple-ish,” muttered BrTl under his breath.
“Mm, it’s because he’s got that rather yellow Whtyllian skin,” she agreed, smiling at him. “He’ll be all right in a minute, BrTl. He’s always loved Rh’aiiy’hn the best.”
They looked anxiously at Shank’yar but after a few moments he sighed deeply and said: “You’re right. He’ll be safe.”
“Mm,” agreed Su. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “And acksherly I don’t think the journey would be good for him, we have to go into horrible stasis.”
“Stasis is stasis,” said BrTl blankly.
“N—um, never mind.” Su got up. “Dad, did you have a piece of jewellery you specially wanted Mum to have?”
“Oh—yes, it’s a piece of carved red Faindorgean glass—very, very rare, but occasionally found with a vein of the blue stuff—in the shape of moonberry leaves, supporting three exquisite wkli pearls— It’s all right, Su-Su, I’ll get it.” He removed the cloak, got up and hurried out.
After a moment Vt R’aam Thirty-Two quoted very weakly indeed: “‘Bhaig’w’s himself again.’”
“Uh—yeah,” agreed BrTl feebly. “Bhaig’w, the Mad Sage of Blrtltonia, eh? Being that said: ‘I will go to Mullgon’ya.’ Wouldn’t have thought you’d have heard of him.”
“Mm, learnt about him at Second School.”
“Right. Uh—well, wouldn’t say the being was himself again, precisely, but bothering about wkli pearls—thought it was only shell, by the way—about mok shit that Jhl won’t want or be interested in is a Vvlvanian-cursed sight better than getting a dose of humanoid nerves over Rh’aiiy’hn!”
“Yes,” agreed Su. “Um, you will let him call Rh’aiiy’hn to say goodbye before we go, won’t you, Vt R’aam Thirty-Two?”
He looked at her limply. “Yes, of course.”
“Good. –I’ll grab my bag and try to stop him packing all those stupid clothes he’s bought for Mum—she won’t want them, either!” she said with a smile, going out.
Vt R’aam Thirty-Two looked limply at BrTl.
“Right!” he said, coming to attention with all three pairs of legs. “Round ’em up! On the double!” He shot out.
The ex-clone tottered over to the flop couch and sank down onto it. His one pair of legs was trembling.
“Great steaming piles of grqwary droppings,” he muttered, passing his hand across his forehead. “Without a mind-struggle.”
Next chapter:
https://theadmirableclone-sf.blogspot.com/2023/11/home-again.html
No comments:
Post a Comment