PART ONE – BEFORE GERFNIT

 

Memo [on Yubll] – Yubllez Obleege

 

MEMO

To:       Exalted Chief Merchant of Yubll

From: Cor’chyn,

Assistant to the Associate Inventory Specialist,

          Alien Artifacts Remote Warehouse

Subject:  Sale of Thirder platter to Erutin

 

Dear Exalted Chief Merchant,

Recently, the Grand Titan of Erutin issued a request for industrial development assistance. I saw her solicitation on the outer worlds news feed and researched their circumstances. Until now, they have been sellers of raw materials. In fact, we have an existing relationship with Erutin, placing their subterranean organic fluids with a variety of customers.

A search of our inventory yielded several possible responses to her request. The best fit was an information platter we’ve had in storage for two decades. It had been captured by two sales trainees assigned to monitor planet Third, a planet in the Spill cluster. Because Third carries an intergalactic commerce designation of “immature” based on the Galactic Code of Commerce, the trainees were at the mandated extreme periphery. A flat circuloid containing simple Thirder data, accompanied by a rudimentary device for accessing the information, were recovered from a Thirder drone craft that reached their position. These artifacts have been in our possession ever since. Previous attempts to sell them to existing and new customers have repeatedly failed.

If the Thirder platter convinced the Grand Titan to request first contact, then the “immature” rating would be revised, and Third would open to us as an immature client, always an advantageous position. On the faint possibility that we might stimulate such a relationship, I responded to the Grand Titan’s request, offering the platter. I indicated that it was up for auction, and gave her a fictitious high bid. She responded almost immediately, quite excited at the prospect. In retrospect, I may have oversold the nature of the Thirder information. Her bid was quite generous, more than covering our accumulated expenses for the Third monitoring operation, and allowing us to keep the two trainees in position for the foreseeable future, if you so desire.

In the best circumstance, Erutin will request that we arrange first contact with Third. If not, we will continue our good working relationship with Erutin because of the high-quality customers we can bring to them.

 

Your obedient salesman-in-waiting,

Cor’chyn

Assistant to the Associate Inventory Specialist

Alien Artifacts Remote Warehouse

 

Chapter One [on Erutin] - Disk Counted Intelligence

 

Tithesis, the Grand Titan of Erutin, strode into the hexagonal audience chamber, used only for official functions. Two Amenables trailed behind. She lowered her abdomen onto the overstuffed gold throne and straddled it, two legs on either side. The chamber was constructed of polished stone slabs, with drape-covered passages at each vertex. Tapestries hung on the nearest wall, one for each of her predecessors. Woven into each faithful reproduction of a deceased ruler was one of their arms or legs.

The First Amenable leaned close. “Shall I let it in, your Grandness?”

Swiveling her head on a short stalk, the Grand Titan examined the tapestries. One day, the Grand Titan’s portrait and one of her appendages would join the others. How would she be perceived by her successors and history?

“Are you ready?” the First Amenable persisted.

The Grand Titan sat tall, her antennae starched upright. “After the guards arrive.” Meetings with alien species were always uncomfortable, but those with Mernex were the worst. They were tall yet so blobbish, smaller at the top with dark splotches, curving wider at the bottom. And all of those larva-looking offshoots covering their bodies! What were they called? Ah yes, fingettes. She developed excess midgut acid at the mere thought. Three soldiers pushing field weapons on rolling tripods marched in, took their places at the corners of the room and snapped to attention.

The Second Amenable bent over, her voice a fluctuating whisper. “Not to question your judgment, your Grandness, but are armed militia really necessary?”

“Preparation is good practice.” The Grand Titan tilted her head in the direction of the First Amenable, antennas waving. “Remember that if you wish to ascend in station.”

The Second Amenable bowed. “Yes, your Grandness.”

“Besides, I have armed guards even for my beloved sister’s visits.” The Grand Titan fluttered her wings to straighten the beaded pouch slung across her thorax. “Guards, take action only if the alien makes a threatening move.”

They nodded in unison.

She straightened her mandibles. “Begin the music and let it in.”

The doors opened as the first notes of the Erutin Planetary Anthem filled the room. Every Erutinite stood at attention, immobile. A lone Mernex toddled into the room, its lower pads slapping against the hard surface.

Out of rhythm, thought the Grand Titan.

The Mernex stood, shifting its weight from one flat foot to the other.

At least it knows enough to allow the song to complete.

As soon as the anthem ended, without waiting for a signal, the Mernex bent at the middle. The Grand Titan raised a sugar crystal orb from the pouch, but the visitor was already rising from the ritual bow.

Blobbish and impatient.

The visitor emitted a high-pitched whistle that echoed off the polished walls and shook the Grand Titan’s antennae.

The Mernex had first arrived at Erutin during the reign of Tithesis’s predecessor, Antixia. Begged and borrowed from other species, ships in their fleet had ranged in size from two-party shuttlecraft to rehabilitated cruisers. Despite the advice of her closest advisors, Antixia allowed the ships to enter orbit. Until that time, Erutin had been self-sufficient, its subjects industrious workers. Only a handful of transactions with other worlds were executed each cycle, resulting in inaccurate billing and incomplete or lost shipments. The Mernex offered to perform the information management tasks associated with order processing in return for safe habitation. Antixia’s visions of expansion and extraordinary prosperity had pushed her to accept the Mernex offer.

The First Amenable clicked softly. “Your Grandness, it waits.”

The Grand Titan surveyed the immigrant alien subject. Is this Mangik? She needed to be sure. All of those Mernex looked alike. It stood, fleshy protrusions – ah yes, fingettes - hanging limp all over its body, flat upper arms folded across its torso, weight shifted to one lower foot, tapping the other. Oh, it was impatient, all right. “Do I take it you have something more important than an audience with your monarch?” She flicked her tongue out to sample the orb’s sweetness, and then lowered it into her lap.

The visitor’s reply was monotone. “Time spent with you keeps me from the business of order processing.”

It was Mangik all right, the overseer of data management. One of the few Mernex with a spine, buried somewhere in that curvy mass of soft flesh. “Ah yes. That is important work. Have I told you how much more effective we’ve been since you and your kind arrived? The standard of living for all Erutinites has nearly doubled. Our reputation for excellence has spread. We’re receiving orders now from customers beyond the fringe of our galaxy.”

“Well beyond this galaxy. More in the future, I hope.” The foot tapping stopped. “Is that why you summoned me, to give me a compliment? Because, I have pressing matters –”

The Grand Titan wiggled on her padded seat. “No, I have another way in which you can serve me.” She raised a stick-thin arm. Four attendants entered from her right side, shoving a rectangular blue pillow that was twice as tall as they were. I hope this creature appreciates the splendor. Not every visitor is honored with the ritual of soft delivery. Perched on the pillow were two artifacts the Grand Titan had recently obtained: a flat round plate and a short metal wand.

Mangik pointed an arm and a dozen fingettes at the bolster. “Have you considered putting wheels on that?”

The Grand Titan tilted her head at the uninvited suggestion. “Orders for our raw materials are at a record level, which raises an issue.” She clicked her jaw. “Eventually, Erutin will run out of natural resources. Then, we will have nothing to sell.”

Mangik waved at the Grand Titan. “But that won’t be for millions of billions of years.”

She crossed her arms. “My workers say thousands, at the current rate.” She raised a claw in the air. “It is a prudent ruler who plans ahead.”

The attendants slipped on the polished floor, as they leaned and pushed at the oversize pillow. One shoved hard and fell, his upper arm smashing to splinters. He skulked off, injured and useless.

The Grand Titan stared at the two objects atop the pillow. The circular metal plate, decorated by etched circles, squares, squiggles and a starburst, gleamed in the dim light of the chamber. Although these symbols were meaningless to the Grand Titan, surely a data expert could decipher them. The Grand Titan projected her voice as if to a large gathering, despite the intimate size of the audience. “I have decided to introduce manufacturing to our repertoire. At great expense, I have purchased these treasures.”

Mangik glanced at the pillow, which was sliding more slowly with only three pushers.

The Grand Titan’s voice bounced off the far wall. “The round object contains valuable information –“

“What?” Mangik turned from its adopted ruler to inspect the objects, which had finally come to rest.

“The seller described the flat plate as an information disk; the other item is a playhead.”

Mangik puffed up but did not exhale. “Your Grandness, you really didn’t have to go to all this trouble –“

“What is expected of a monarch, if not to advance her subjects?” Antixia had done it, by allowing these foreign blob creatures to take up residence. Now it was her turn. The Grand Titan shifted her weight and squared her upper thorax. Didn’t Mernex believe in economic improvement? And then, there was the sector’s Commerce Prize. Adding manufacturing capabilities to their successful raw materials business would put Erutin in position to capture the award, the crowning achievement of her legacy.

“May I ask –“ Mangik paused “– how your Grandness took –” Mangik still hadn’t exhaled. “– possession of such distinctive artifacts?”

“I won them at auction from two Yubllez, who claimed the objects are from a distant planet occupied by a species called Thirders.” When the Yubllez had arrived to complete the transaction, the Grand Titan made them promise to mention Erutin to all of their clients. “They assured me that the disk contains unique information I can use to raise Erutin to the highest levels of industrial achievement.” It will be more than worth the amount released from the treasury if their assertions are substantiated.

Mangik wobbled in place, bending slightly.

The Grand Titan had never seen this behavior before. Mangik looked bloated. She rose lightly from her padded throne. “Are you all right?”

Mangik bounced its head. “F-f-fine. Go on.”

“I cannot leave this task to just any of you data creatures. I must have the best, which is you.” She pointed.

Mangik clutched its middle and bent over. Like dominos, the fingettes collapsed against its body. The guards engaged their weapons, translucent tips glowing orange. The Grand Titan waved the militia off. The guards kept their guns at the ready, despite her gesture.

Mangik’s head was tilted. “Of course, your Grandness.” It shimmied, twisting to the left. All of its fingettes hugged its torso. Mangik tottered, bent like an ill-formed pretzel.

“What’s wrong?” She rose up. “Tell me!” Only Mangik could unlock the secrets, for which she had paid dearly. Without Mangik’s expertise, her purchase would be a waste and her place in Erutin history only a footnote.

Mangik’s voice was a squeak. “Nothing. Are we done?”

“Almost. Are you sure we can’t do something? Call one of your medical practitioners perhaps?”

Mangik had inflated to twice its original size. “The quicker we finish, the better.”

“All right then.” The Grand Titan struck an erect posture and continued her monologue. “Even though you are an alien refugee, you have served me and the citizens of Erutin well for all of these innumerable years.” She studied the alien, who now looked like a balloon. “So far.” Mangik stood silent. “I trust you will not disappoint me this time.” She waved her pouch in front of her face several times to disperse an unfamiliar odor. “Handle the disk with care. Decode and analyze its contents immediately. It is your highest priority! Schedule an audience with me at once when you are done.”

The two items were moved closer. Mangik attempted the ritual bow and fell over. All of the attendants pulled and pushed, finally bringing the data specialist upright. One handed over the platter, another the playhead. Mangik grasped the items by its upper arms and a few fingettes, and then gurgled a farewell. With small shuffling steps, Mangik left, disappearing through the heavy jewel-encrusted doors. The guards powered down and lowered their weapons but remained at attention.

“Have the chamber completely disinfected,” ordered the Grand Titan. She brushed a few glittering granules from the creases between the three segments of her thorax.

“Yes, your Grandness,” replied the First Amenable.

There was a shiny wetness where Mangik had stood.

“And do the floors twice,” she said, making her departure.

Chapter Two [on Erutin] - A Disk Rolls Downhill

 

Mangik fell through the swinging doors of Information Central, its bloated body bouncing once before coming to rest. The plate and playhead provided by the Grand Titan clattered to the floor. Mangik’s body rolled to rest next to the data clerk console. These interruptions are killing me, thought Mangik.

“Holy Ephemeral!” Gnuoy, the information intern, pushed away from the concave terminal position and padded over to its distended mentor. “What did they do to you?” The youthful apprentice danced around, only one pad touching the ground at a time, fingettes flapping up and down.

The remaining three data clerks sat idle, leaning into their terminals, sensors glued to their view ports, fingettes poised motionless over the keys.

Why doesn’t Gnuoy do something? thought Mangik.

“Somebody lend me a pad!” Gnuoy grabbed and pulled, skin wrinkling, to lift Mangik to vertical position. “Aren’t you going to help?” Its teammates waited for Gnuoy’s return to their shared workstation.

Mangik felt the thump of Gnuoy’s lower pad. Gnuoy was kicking! Soon after, the other three clerks had joined in, pummeling Mangik’s body with vigorous blows.

Aren’t things bad enough? Do I really need to be beat up for my error in judgment?

When two of the clerks struck from opposite sides, air spurted from Mangik’s feedhole.

“Roll it!” hollered Gnuoy. “Mangik will never get through this one without help from gravity.”

The four clerks got Mangik right side up. From the kick-start, Mangik relaxed its muscles, treating the group to a blast of retained air from an opening in the bottom of its body. The hole enlarged as red and green slime spurted from Mangik’s torso. A notalhuvo was in progress.

Mernex had suffered with the curse of notalhuvo all the way back in their recorded history. The transformation would strike during incidents of stress or high emotion. On planets hosting clusters of the migrant race, one or more Mernex would inevitably experience notalhuvo in front of unsuspecting alien natives. For Mangik’s group, the most recent incident had resulted in expulsion and the search for a new planet on which to settle, bringing them to Erutin.

These episodes are much too frequent. The harder I work to find our planet of origin before the Nzorglq storm in –

Once Mangik was upright, the opening expanded to the diameter of its body. One by one, all of its internal organs oozed out, sucking in the outer skin, pads and fingettes. In a matter of moments, Mangik lay, inside out, on the floor. Only the top of its body peeked out from the mass of collapsed skin and entrails. Mangik stared up at the domed ceiling of an abandoned hive that had been hollowed out to serve as its base of operations. Mangik’s organs began to vibrate, faster and faster, until they generated a hum.

Gnuoy stood by and slapped out a beat to match the syncopated rhythm of the marching song. “I just love the Erutin Planetary Anthem.”

Whenever a group of wandering Mernex arrived at an alien planet, a selected representative would reach out telepathically and assimilate the first instance of music it encountered. This song would become part of the visiting Mernex physiology for all members of the group. Thereafter, a notalhuvo would last as long as a single play of that piece of music. Mernex on various planets performed notalhuvos ranging from a few moments to hours.

When the song completed, Mangik’s organs retreated into its body cavity. Gnuoy placed the platter and device on Mangik’s desk, and then returned to the terminal. The collective clicking resumed as the four collaborated to review incoming orders.

“I can’t believe I held it back so long.” Mangik squatted, right side out, sucking the remnant puddle of ooze back into its body. “Have you ever been in one of their interrogation rooms?”

Gnuoy didn’t look up from his view port. “No. I've never had the privilege of an audience with the Grand Titan, thank The Ephemeral.”

Mangik padded over to observe the intern. “Privilege? Ha! Then you've never seen their tapestries, the ones with body parts woven into the designs. Quite nauseating.” Mangik peered into the auxiliary viewing port. Gnuoy's speed and accuracy had improved. There would be no justification for withholding Gnuoy’s promotion.

“Why aren't all of their body parts recycled when an Erutin ceases?” Gnuoy asked.

Mangik waddled past the four data collection consoles and metallic room-high vats in the complex. Pipes that snaked through the ceiling fed the vats with liquid information. “Beats me! I think that's what triggered my attack.” Mangik took its place at the master data console, fingettes on the multilevel keyboard. Ignoring its meeting with the Grand Titan, two intertwined topics were on Mangik’s mind: searching for clues to the Mern planet of origin, and the spread of the Nzorglq hoards towards Erutin. "My fingettes are tingling. That's a good sign." Starting with the most recent order, Mangik scrutinized each one that carried an attachment. "Summaries! We ask for detailed histories and what do we get? Boring, high-level abstracts.” Mangik skipped through a few more orders. “I can’t run a correlation of The Six Myths of our planet of origin with these digests."

Mangik had developed The Six Myths after centuries of research. A planet or its inhabitants had to possess attributes that correlated to accounts passed down from generation to generation: intense heat, sparkling, forked shadows, regenerative black baths, hardness of some kind, and extraordinary sounds.

“Why were you summoned?” Gnuoy stopped working and looked up. Its colleagues froze in position. “Certainly not to trick you into a notalhuvo. The Erutinites aren’t sneaky like that, are they?”

“There’s no telling. Hopefully, our curse is still a secret. Her Grandness bought some information on the open market.” The data vats sloshed with the arrival of new orders, queued up for processing. Mangik barked, “Can’t you hear? There are orders waiting.”

Gnuoy pressed forward to its view port and keys. The clatter resumed. “More information is always good, right?”

Mangik laughed with a staccato trumpet blast. “Why the Grand Titan thinks she can distinguish useful information from worthless is beyond me. Especially from those unscrupulous Yubllez.” Mangik had sampled substandard Yubllez wares before. “Why, this place was a data disaster before we arrived. Special information? Blah. Another self-proclaimed expert. They’re all alike.”

Gnuoy kept typing. “Who?”

“Every head of state on every planet we’ve visited.” Mangik pulled up a report on storage capacity. The vats were filling nicely. Hopefully, some of those inbound orders had full planet histories. How else would Mangik find the Mern planet of origin? “They don’t want to be outdone by - what must they call us behind our backs? - those smelly Mernex immigrants.”

Gnuoy sampled the air. “We’re not smelly.” The three teammates sniffed.

Mangik held the shiny circuloid aloft by one folded pad. “She wants me to decode this. An unfortunate interruption from serious work.”

The reflective gold plate was etched with pictures: something in circular orbit, a flat line with an oblong balanced on one end, jagged and smooth wavy lines, a pair of squares partially shaded, and a starburst pattern. They carried no obvious meaning.

“You are going to do what she asked, aren’t you? I mean, she is the Grand Titan.”

“No way!” Metal flakes floated down after Mangik tapped the edge of the plate on the table. “Never measure a ruler by a numstick, that’s what I always say.”

“You never say that.”

“I just did. Weren’t you listening?” Mangik dropped the plate and increased the speed of its fingettes. “Any spare time I have is devoted to my search for our ancestral home world. I can’t be bothered by crazy schemes based on dubious intelligence.”

Gnuoy’s voice quivered. “You can’t just ignore the Grand Titan. She’ll call you back for another audience sooner or later. Then what?” Gnuoy slumped away from the terminal, its body shaking, its fingettes dancing. “She could have us all expelled! Then where would we go?”

Mangik slid the two objects towards a funnel-shaped opening. “These deserve nothing better than the recycle chute.”

Gnuoy shot up, pads raised. “No!”

“What, then?” Mangik tilted towards the trainee.

Gnuoy puffed up. “I’ll do it. I’ll perform the analysis.”

“Alone?” asked Mangik. “I can’t spare anyone to assist you.” The three other data clerks moaned.

Gnuoy flapped its upper pads against its body. “Sure I can. I can decode the disk, extract the information, create an index, -”

“Spare me the gory details. Okay, why don’t you? We’ll substitute this for one of your practical exams. If you do a good job, I will advance your rank earlier than scheduled.”

“Wow!” Gnuoy pushed back from its terminal. “Right away.”

Gnuoy snatched the platter and pranced off, looking back at its three associates. It almost knocked down Ritewy, Mangik’s junior partner and second in command, who was entering the facility.

The remaining three data clerks sat idle after Gnuoy’s departure. It would take a fourth clerk to complete the team before processing could resume. Mangik pointed at the empty position. “Can you get someone to fill in?”

Ritewy leaned its slender body against Mangik’s master console. “Sure. Where is Gnuoy going?”

“Off to do the Grand Titan’s work. It will be back soon.” Mangik flicked the playhead, and then continued scanning new orders, looking for clues.

“An assignment from the Grand Titan herself? Those don’t happen every star cycle, you know.” Ritewy stroked its chest. “I have time. Why did you give it to a novice like Gnuoy? It’s such a data klutz.”

Mangik waved Ritewy off. “I have no time for special projects. And lay off Gnuoy! Even the best of us make mistakes. We’re only Mern.”

“You mean Mernex?”

Mangik grunted. Mern-ex. Formerly from Mern. How could an entire species be separated from their planet of origin, and subsequently driven from their adopted home world?

“You don’t have time to redo Gnuoy’s work. Neither do I.” Ritewy toyed with the keys on the adjacent terminal. “So what’s got you turning inside out these days?”

“Shhhh! Not even in jest!” Mangik’s fingettes established a rhythm. “I’m close to finding our ancestral planet. I’ve got it narrowed down to the Crescent galaxy –“

“Are you still working on that?” Ritewy bent over, crowding Mangik. “Listen to me. No one cares about those fantasies any more. Ancient tales of grand harmonies and forked shadows. Bah to those old myths! How many times have I stopped you from running off to some Ephemeral forsaken world, on the possibility it’s our planet of origin, and making a fool out of yourself?”

Too many!

Gnuoy reentered the room, whipping its visual sensors left and right.

“Done already?” Mangik juggled the playback device in plain view. “Here.” Mangik lobbed the device to Gnuoy.

Gnuoy extended its upper pads. The device fell through the gap and plummeted to the floor. “Sorry.” The platter gleamed in Gnuoy’s grip.

“Pretty!” Ritewy extended a pad to touch the shiny plate but Gnuoy pulled it out of reach. “Where did you get that?”

Mangik described the audience with the Grand Titan and the assignment for which Gnuoy volunteered.

Gnuoy surveyed the pair with furrowed brow. “You’re not fighting, are you?”

“Certainly not. We don’t fight.” We keep our pads to ourselves, Mangik thought. “We discuss.”

“Or we chat.”

“I hate it when you fight.” With bouncy steps, Gnuoy departed.

Ritewy’s tone was a growl. “We need to chat. Right now.”

“Completely useless.”

“What?” Ritewy peeked back at the exit. “Gnuoy?”

Mangik scrunched up. Ritewy was a competent associate but a terrible judge of character. “Gnuoy will surprise you some day.” Gnuoy had made significant progress in productivity and accuracy, despite an occasional foul-up. “I meant the disk. Chat about what?”

“This obsession of yours. It's getting in the way, and that could mean –“

“Yes, yes, we can't jeopardize Erutin order processing, can we?” asked Mangik. “But we've had this argument –“

“Discussion.”

“- before.”

Ritewy flexed its upper pads against its torso. “We’ve got a good situation, thanks to you. With luck, we’ll remain here for a long time. Sometimes a Mernex needs to be reminded of something they already know. Especially when they get a bug up their hole.”

Mangik tightened and relaxed its hindquarters. “You're right. The Grand Titan can be a royal pain sometimes.”

“Don’t take me literally. I meant your fixation with that fictional planet based purely on myths. Need I remind you of the first lines of Mern history?”

Fixation? More like salvation. I’ll play along or Ritewy will never leave. “We all memorize them in early school. ‘Yesterday was the Great Separation. Today is the first day of Mern. Let us experience life to the fullest!’ Do I pass?”

“Perfect score.” Ritewy addressed Mangik as it would one of its offspring. “Consider, if our ancestors on Mern wanted us to have more details about where we came from before that, don't you think they would have told us? They had the opportunity and chose not to use it.”

“The Great Separation. What does that mean? Come on, aren't you the least bit curious?”

Ritewy turned its back and folded its upper pads over one another. “No, I’m not. If the founders on Mern believed that keeping our past a secret was important, I'll trust their judgment.”

“It's more than that. As a species, we're all about improving the conditions around us.” Mangik swept one pad in a broad arc, indicating the workstations, plumbing and liquid information tanks. “Look at all the progress we’ve made here. Why, the Erutinites were –“

Ritewy spun and leaned on Mangik’s table. “Yes, yes, I know, a complete data disaster.”

“I view Mern history as incomplete, something that requires repair.” Mangik waved its upper pads, as if attempting to fly. “Why shouldn’t we do for ourselves what we do for others? The Erutinites thank us for it.”

Ritewy glanced at the three idle clerks. “They don't thank us. They just don't boot our smelly inside-out carcasses off this bugdom.”

Three idle data clerks chimed in, “We're not smelly!”

“If we have to emigrate to another planet after Erutin,” Ritewy continued, “maybe we should tell our hosts about notalhuvo, instead of keeping it a secret.”

The thought of pleading for refuge on another unwelcoming planet vibrated Mangik’s guts. How many had there been? Mangik stood pad to pad with Ritewy. “It doesn't matter. Intellectual curiosity or historic repair, I'm going to find our planet of origin.” I have to. Mangik pushed at Ritewy with an upper pad. “You can stay here alone and improve a bug's life while all of your friends and relatives get acquainted with their bloodlines.” Mangik retreated to the view port.

“It would serve you right if, when you arrived at this mystery planet, they turned up their noses the first time a Mernex went through notalhuvo.” Ritewy glanced at the empty doorway. “Perhaps the Grand Titan bought something of value. Maybe even clues to that mythical planet you’re searching for.”

“No chance. Not from any disk provided by Yubllez. Believe me, I’d prefer not to tell the Grand Titan that she bought a piece of junk,” said Mangik.

Ritewy moved around the desk. “If it’s worthless, why have Gnuoy spend the time and effort to decode the thing?”

“She is the Grand Titan, after all. I can’t ignore her completely.”

“No matter how hard you try,” responded Ritewy. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen any metal so shiny.”

Mangik looked up from the view port and scratched its belly. “The disk itself is interesting. I wonder what it’s made of? Do you know a metallurgy specialist?”

“I have some acquaintances in the Materials sector, doing cataloging. We were on the same ship that immigrated here. But they’re very busy, working on a new gusher –“

“Send one of them to me,” said Mangik.

Ritewy headed for the exit to the hive. “You’ll just have to hope Gnuoy doesn’t destroy it during the analysis.”

“Don’t be silly.” How many times can that plate be dropped before it’s completely useless? “You have order processing enhancements to implement, and I’ve got to get back to my research. I’ll speak with you later.”

Ritewy doubled back to Mangik’s desk. “I almost forgot. I need to report an anomaly in the order processing system. It’s probably Gnuoy’s fault.”

“Really?” Mangik raised up from the view port, slightly inflated. My precious order attachments! “No one said anything. What’s wrong?”

“We’re getting 7^100base4 times the normal volume of data. Many incoming orders have huge attachments, historical records of some kind. Don’t worry, though. I’ll purge the extraneous stuff.”

“Don’t you dare!” Mangik whipped a pad at its junior partner as Mangik’s body swelled.

Ritewy startled to an upright position, almost cylindrical.

Ritewy can’t learn that the attachments are planet of origin research. Mangik continued, “I asked Gnuoy to request marketing information from our buyers. If it bothers you, I’ll move those answers to my personal storage area.”

“Ignore our hosts, cater to our hosts. How can a chief data specialist be so inconsistent?”

Mangik puffed up and raised its voice. “Now, quit wasting my time, and yours.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll commission the construction of additional vats,” said Ritewy.

Mangik leaned into the view port. So many orders, so little time. A wandering whistling sound came from the direction of the remaining order clerks.

Mangik looked up. “If you can’t work on orders, the least you could do is remain quiet until –“ Ritewy was standing next to Mangik’s terminal. “You’re still here. I thought you’d left. What is it now?”

“Indulge me, for just a moment. For argument’s sake –“

Mangik leaned back from its keyboard

Ritewy continued, “Let’s pretend you find the planet you seek. Let’s say it matches every myth you’ve collected. So what? All of our colleagues here on Erutin are content. I know I am.”

“So, now you’re the spokes-Mern for our entire species?” Mangik bumped against the railing. “The next time I want to know how I feel, I’ll ask you.”

“The Mernex who’ve settled on innumerable planets across the galaxies are probably happy too. Isn’t stability worth something?”

“Odd plea from an agent of change.” Mangik inclined its head. “We’re welcome now, but for how long? One notalhuvo performed at the wrong time in front of the wrong Erutinite could have us herded up and shipped off faster than a null query. ” It breathed deeply. “I can no longer count on my fingettes the number of times I held back in agony while in the presence of the Grand Titan or some other dignitary.”

“But why go elsewhere? All of the Mernex here are safe and leading productive lives,” said Ritewy.

“What’s wrong with you?” Mangik dropped its voice to a whisper and leaned close. “Have you forgotten about the Nzorglq? I haven’t shown this to anyone else. No need to create a panic.” Mangik fetched up a list of demolished civilizations as tainted air puffed from its bottom.

Ritewy glanced through the auxiliary view port.

“Easier to see graphically.” With a few taps of the keyboard, the list was joined onscreen by a map of space. The blue background was punctuated by yellow dots, representing star systems. “Look what’s happened.” A misshapen black oval in the center of the screen spread to engulf dozens of the dots, turning them green. “See, the Nzorglq are expanding their crusade in Erutin’s direction.”

Ritewy’s voice quivered. “I had family on some of those planets.”

“We both did.” Mangik drummed a dozen fingettes, as the yellow dot representing Erutin flickered. “An Nzorglq invasion is only a matter of time. Remember the careless brutality?”

Ritewy stood tall. “This time, we’ll have an ally.”

“The Erutinites? Don’t make me laugh. When we arrived and established first contact, our fleet commander smashed the Erutin ambassador to pieces with a simple padshake. And it wasn’t trying to hurt anyone.”

The three idle data clerks tooted half dozen notes of ascending scale. Ritewy shot them a glance. “That was quite embarrassing, wasn’t it? But they let us take up residence anyway.”

“For obvious financial reasons.” Mangik erased the list and map from the screen. “Erutin won’t be any more successful at fending off the Nzorglq horde than Mern or any of the other planets that have fallen.”

Ritewy lifted from the view port and sighed. “Mern was home to us for so long.”

Mangik’s fingettes returned to the terminal’s controls, its visual sensors to the view port. “We weren’t prepared to venture out into the galaxy.“

Ritewy thought for a moment. “Given how many times we’ve had to relocate, you’re probably right.”

“The world we lived on before Mern, that planet is our true home.” Mangik studied the history attachment on the most recent order. It lent no hope. A puddle formed under Mangik’s body.

“What good would it be, to find our ancestral planet? It could be occupied.” Ritewy slumped. “Assuming it exists.”

Mangik kept reading. “Doesn’t matter. Whoever is there, they can’t turn us away.” Mangik took a sharp breath. “They won’t turn us away!”

“Even if we find it and immigrate there, won’t the Nzorglq eventually attack?”

Mangik rose up from the view port, its body sinking. “If our species is destined to make a last stand, it should be on our planet of origin, not someone else’s.” Mangik stomped on the floor. “We need to get off Erutin, and soon.”

“Be careful or you’ll trample on your guts.” Ritewy sniffed. “I’ll give you some privacy. Besides, I hate that insect marching song.”

Ritewy whirled and made a hasty exit as Mangik’s organs streamed from his body.

 

Memo [on Yubll] – Septuple Promotion

 

MEMO

To:       Exalted Chief Merchant of Yubll

From: Cor’chyn, Regional Provisioning Representative

Subject:  Status Report: Top Prospect

First, let me express sincere gratitude for my recent promotion.

As newly commissioned representative for the Crescent cluster, I have been gathering information regarding planet Frobzb. Although it is located far from existing trade routes, Frobzb remains our best new prospect in the region. This world has seldom engaged in outside interaction, making it susceptible to every sales method and every mechanism in our catalog. Frobzb covets its privacy, so stealth methods were used to assemble this profile.

As background, Frobzb is an old planet, predating the oldest recorded history of our beloved Yubll. It orbits a pair of twin red suns, requiring freighters to be more heavily insulated against heat and radiation. Frobzb is dry, perhaps void of any known liquids. Infrequent black spots on the planet’s surface may be rock discolorations, or collections of Frobzbian waste. If the latter, recycling and purification equipment are good products with which to lead.

For a planet of its size (7 1/2), Frobzb’s population is approximately fifty percent of normal. We could uncover no history of natural disasters to account for this discrepancy. Perhaps they would benefit from some exotic stimulants, although extreme caution is always the best policy before introducing a culture to another species’ erotica.

Clustered in a northern quadrant of the planet’s surface, inhabitants live in dozens of small communities, which are reported to be single-functional. That is, one community delivers education, another does mining, and yet another performs manufacturing, etc. Frobzbians live and work in the same immediate geography, in almost uniformly low-rise structures. Travel from place to place is performed by public transportation systems that look like merchandise conveyor belts. There are tremendous opportunities to introduce personal transportation technology, vehicle manufacturing, way-building consulting and equipment, propellant stations and the like. Later, when the inevitable toxic byproducts collect in their atmosphere, we can sell them pollution controls.

A Central Council of five members governs the planet, overseeing a deep bureaucracy and representatives from each community. Previous attempts at contact have been answered by referrals and hand-offs, even when no-obligation trials of products and services have been generously offered. They approached each conversation with complete detachment, which made it impossible to establish any personal rapport. We will have to raise the stakes, with significant investments of free goods to establish a relationship.

The only discernable technology they possess of high interest to us is an energy shield, projected as a sphere around the planet’s atmosphere. This shield prevents casual visitors, but has also protected them in the past from such menaces as the Nzorglq. Extracts from Frobzb’s detailed historical record describe a brutal onslaught they survived approximately fifty years ago, due to their shield. Just consider the amount of energy it takes to maintain such a barrier! No other planet on record has such technology, which makes it infinitely valuable.

Frobzbians might be pacifists, since they did not respond to the Nzorglq attack with offensive weapons. If not, this could be a huge opportunity, since some the weapons systems in our catalog are quite offensive.

To the best of our knowledge, they have not engaged in self-initiated space travel, although any species advanced enough to build a planetary shield could travel intergalacticly if they so desired. More research is required. Their overall level of technological sophistication is therefore assessed as uneven.

I have planned an extended surveillance mission. An opportunity for a sizeable transaction will present itself, or I will instigate one. I leave for Frobzb immediately.

I expect to be sitting on the top seller spiral with you at the next results review gathering.

 

Yours in commerce,

Cor’chyn

Regional Provisioning Representative

Crescent Cluster

 

Chapter Three [on Frobzb] - Underground, Indivisible

 

Deep below the arid surface of the planet Frobzb, five members of the Trager Golup soaked their behinds in a moogly pond. The sixth paced back and forth, careful not to disturb silvery recording tubes stacked along the walls.  The air stunk of trouble, or perhaps the moogly hadn’t been freshened recently from naturally occurring surface pools.

As stealth rulers of the planet, members of the Trager Golup had been called together for an emergency session. The cavern beneath the Central Council structure served as their base of operation, appropriate for a secret underground group. The Trager Golup had to meet underground to prevent any of the citizens from learning that the Central Council was a sham, a puppet to the true power brokers. Like the Frobs themselves and most of the buildings surface-side, the underground lair was oval with a squat ceiling.

“Where in The Gaian’s name is the ChairFrob?” Lolux strode along the edge of the thick black liquid. “I have better things to do –“

Zetzn interrupted. “You have a full-time position here, but you’re always surface-side, holding down responsibilities at – what is it? – the Manufacturing village. Do you enjoy baking under the suns? Why not just luxuriate down here with us?”

Zetzn was right. The cool cavern was much more comfortable than the scorching surface above. Getting stuck on a Mover in between villages could evaporate all the moisture out of a Frob. And, the low cavern height was a comforting alternative to high ceilings or open air that would give a Frob the dizzies. One advantage of surface-side: the company was better. Lolux stopped and faced the most vocal restrictionist. “Because some of us have goals and ambitions!”

Zetzn was always argumentative, and always right in its own mind. “Oh, and the Trager Golup doesn't make something? Like all the difference?” Zetzn flipped a rear pad, launching a blob of moogly, which flew past Lolux and splattered on the wall. “And all of the decisions?”

Since its earliest training, Lolux had been expected to do great things because of its distinctive physiology. Sixers are held to a higher standard. The few references to other planets and species during training had captured Lolux’s imagination. Many nights, Lolux would sit outside, straining its ometers towards the sky, pretending to reach out to the stars. What secrets do you hold? What can we learn from you? No reply from the flickering specks.

Lolux was tired of arguments with the restrictionists, but couldn’t help but respond. “Don’t confuse authority with progress.”

“Don’t confuse progress with – with –“

The appearance of the ChairFrob in the arched doorway caught everyone’s attention.

“– with progress,” Zetzn finished.

Instead of making an entrance, the ChairFrob posed. Its thick oval body had a lumpy top surface, making placement of the ceremonial stone horn, problematic. The horn was mounted ahead of center, so the ChairFrob always looked like it was falling forward, even at rest. “Lolux, a moment please.”

Who, me? Member Zetzn, or perhaps Siplok, was a likely candidate for a private discussion with the ChairFrob. After all, they were like-minded restrictionists, voting as a block. Lolux led the expansionists, Takis and Balast, all of whom sat together on the opposite side of the pond. What did I do to deserve a private meeting with the ChairFrob?

Hesitantly, Lolux crept into the private vestibule off the meeting room for the first time. There was an information terminal, one of the few signs of technology in their lair, three open passages and two locked doors. What secrets did they hold?

Lolux kept back a comfortable distance, so as not to violate the leader’s personal space. The ChairFrob’s top reminded Lolux of rolling hills surface-side. Lolux wondered what density and temperature settings were being detected by the four translucent, dome-shaped ometers decorating the ChairFrob’s top surface. I don’t dare lie, thought Lolux.

The ChairFrob cleared its pucker, expelling glittering shards of gems, before speaking. “Lolux, I will be proposing that all past, present and future data from the Power village be moved to the secured portion of the Official History. I won’t call for any discussion, merely a vote. You won’t cause trouble, will you?”

The ChairFrob must have lost its mind, thought Lolux. Cutbacks on freedom and access were the restrictionists’ agenda. “Still determined to lock citizens out of information they have a perfect right to –“

The ChairFrob rose up on its front pads, the stone horn scraping the low ceiling. Fragments of dirt and dust trickled down. “Argue with me, here, all you want. Complain until your pucker is pooped. But in the formal meeting, I need at least you, and if possible your two associates, to cooperate.”

“What’s going on? You’ve never asked for my assistance before.”

“Most Frobs don’t need access to Power village information anyway. You’re smart enough to choose your battles carefully. Help me get the proposal approved swiftly and smoothly.”

Lolux asked, “But why –“

Dumal, the archivist, entered from a side passage. “ChairFrob, the Central Council needs to speak with you immediately.”

“Those pretentious pretenders to power! They’re at my beck and call, not vice versa. Let them wait.”

Dumal whined. “They say it’s an emergency.”

“I’ll dispatch this quickly.” The ChairFrob followed Dumal, and then turned before leaving the chamber. “I’ll expect an affirmative answer when I return.”

When Dumal and the ChairFrob were out of sight, Lolux glanced over at the information terminal. Why is Power village data so important? Boring statistics of barvolts generated and barvolts consumed. What does the ChairFrob know that I don’t?

Lolux crawled into the metal box and involuntarily tapped a rear pad as the emitters in the machine aligned themselves to Lolux’s six ometers.

The machine clicked once, ready for a user request. The ChairFrob doesn’t do anything casually. It may only have four ometers, but it is as crafty as a sixer. Lolux concentrated its thoughts on Power village data. Fifty years worth shot from the emitters into Lolux’s ometers. Although small in comparison to the vast amounts of data Lolux normally had to ingest, the information was sufficient for Lolux to make an analysis. Historic measurements of planetary power, as generated by the ecracs stones, were amazingly stable, except for twice a year. At each perigol, when Frobzb’s two suns aligned, the overall power capacity dropped. Not a great deal, but measurable. The trend was downward over time, with no sign of recovery to previous levels.

Great Gaian! If this continues, Frobzb will fall back into the Dark Times. How soon will it be before Movers and tools stop running? Frobs will be helpless! It’s clear this information must be secured, to prevent a general panic. Lolux startled at agreeing with the ChairFrob on this issue. Then the rate of change clicked in Lolux’s mind. All right, the overall power level is going down, but slowly. The good news is, we have time to remedy the situation. What is the ChairFrob going to do to fix the problem?

Lolux bumped a control and exited the machine.

The ChairFrob’s voice echoed, “Ignorant incumbents!” A moment later, the ChairFrob scrambled through a passage entrance. “Lolux, did you send any requests to the Yubllez?”

Lolux had infrequent clandestine dialogs with various species, but not Yubllez. “Of course not. Those peddlers would sell their originators for a profit, if they could. Why?”

“That was the Central Council’s big emergency.” The ChairFrob snorted. “Some Yubllez contacted them about new commerce opportunities. Before the Central Council could react, those pushy peddlers had downloaded their premiere client list to our Official History.” The ChairFrob launched a wad of spittle from its pucker that flew past Lolux. “Back to our conversation. Do I have your support?”

Always nice to have an opponent stuck in a crevice. “What do I get, in return for my cooperation?”

The ChairFrob blatted a series of descending tones. “I always knew there was a bit of conniver under that goody façade. Name your price.”

Lolux thought hard. “Nothing comes to mind.” Lolux paused. “Owe me a favor, that I can use later.” That could come in very handy.

“Power village data gets secured, and I owe you a favor.” The ChairFrob approached and body-bumped Lolux to seal the agreement. “Worst deal I ever made. Let’s get started.”

Best deal I ever made, thought Lolux. It strolled into the meeting room, whistling, careful to avoid the precarious piles of audio tubes. Millennia of Trager Golup recordings captured in audio tubes filled with expectorated sparkles lined the room in floor to ceiling stacks, yet the Power village data only went back fifty years. Strange.

“What was that about?” Zetzn asked.

Lolux sauntered past. “If the ChairFrob wanted you to know, you would have been invited.”

Lolux took its position between its expansionist colleagues. Balast rubbed against Lolux. Takis leaned closer. “What was that all about?”

The ChairFrob crept into the meeting room, the ceremonial horn tilting its body as it moved.  

How the ChairFrob doesn't fall over and drown in the moogly pond is beyond me. “Shhhh. I’ll explain later,” Lolux whispered. “Trust me and follow my lead.”

Dumal sat waiting, one pad on the recording control. “Aren’t you going to call the meeting to order?”

The ChairFrob was turning slowly, scanning the low-ceiling cavern. “Oh, yes. Call to order. Of course.”

Dumal’s whisper was loud enough for all to hear. “You forgot the saying.”

The ChairFrob took the reminder. “I call this meeting of the Trager Golup to order. We shall maintain a stable society.”

The charter of the organization, to “maintain a stable society,” was reiterated at every meeting. It was the interpretation of that phrase that caused partisanship. Restrictionists and expansionists argued from two extreme positions.

The ChairFrob spoke.  "I have a priority item –“

“Aren’t we going to sing the anthem?” Dumal asked.

The ChairFrob stared at Dumal, then continued, “Of course. Before we get down to business, there will be the traditional singing of the Frobzb Unity Anthem.”

The combined sounds from the Frobs yielded a complex polyphony with syncopating rhythms. The current membership had been together for decades, more than sufficient to perfect their parts.

The ChairFrob looked at Dumal. “Now may I proceed to new business?”

Dumal nodded and started the recorder, which began filling yet another audio tube.

Lolux was tempted to speak up. Almost every new idea from its village had been rejected, and the response of the Frobs surface-side was puzzled, bordering on defiant. The Trager Golup needed to understand the possible fallout of continued constraint.

All members listened as the ChairFrob spoke. "As you know, perigol is forthcoming.  Therefore, I have brought a list of restrictions, to be imposed on the population at large.”

“Right, and we'll take them off after the event,” said Takis.

“Not this time,” replied the ChairFrob.  “They will remain in place, until I see fit to remove them.”

Lolux was stunned. The ChairFrob hadn’t mentioned the extent or duration of the restrictions. “Why?  We historically constrain things a bit but then loosen them back up after the celestial event.”

Zetzn broke in. “Are your ometers busted? There is a disturbing rash of innovation that must be eliminated. Just review the recordings of previous sessions.”

Dumal ignored Zetzn and read the list of the ChairFrob’s proposed restrictions: limited travel between villages, reduced commerce with other planets, empty originators prohibited from the extraction procedure of their offspring, and classifying Power village data as secured.

“So many?” asked Takis.  “So permanent?”

“There will be no discussion. It's for the good of Frobzb,” the ChairFrob muttered.

All of these, lumped together. And Lolux had promised to vote for all of them.

Dumal called for the vote. “All in favor of these protective restrictions.”

Predictably, Siplok, Zetzn and Eeenu each raised one rear pad from the thick moogly. Slowly, Lolux did the same.

“What are you doing, voting with them?” Takis shouted.

“I have my reasons,” said Lolux.

“All against.”

Takis and Balast indicated their opposition.

“The proposal is carried.”

The ChairFrob muttered, “Have the Central Council notify the appropriate Departments, Divisions, Committees, Subcommittees, Subsubcommittees, et cetera.”

Despite its promise of cooperation, Lolux was compelled to speak. “I hear rumblings, surface-side. One day, the population will revolt against these kinds of constraints.” What would happen then? Lolux wondered.

“You're dancing close to a formal challenge,” said Zetzn.

 Dumal asked, “Want to declare for the ChairFrob position?”

“Oh no!  Not me!” The thought of standing as an exhibit in the Hall of Bad Examples made Lolux shiver. “I couldn’t live with the consequences if I lost.  And, I'd surely lose.”

The ChairFrob pulled its rear from the moogly pond. “That brings this special session of the Trager Golup to a close –“

The number fifty bounced around in Lolux’s mind. Fifty years of Power village data. Why only fifty? “Hold on.” The ChairFrob hadn’t said anything about fixing the slow loss of power.

“This was an emergency session, with a limited agenda,” said Dumal.

Lolux grappled for composure. Surely the ChairFrob is going to address the issue. It spoke in factual monotone. “Isn’t there something else? ChairFrob?”

Their leader glanced around the cavern, seemingly preoccupied.

Maybe if I keep the meeting going, the ChairFrob will speak up. Besides, I owe my fellow expansionists a show of conviction after my affirmative vote. “We will face a revolution if we continue to restrict the freedoms of our fellow Frobs. They all want their work to matter. Yet, we reject their innovations and inventions –“

“Just what part of ‘maintain a stable society’ don’t you understand?” asked Zetzn.

Lolux wiggled out of the black muck. Surface-side, a dip in a moogly pond would be refreshing. Down in the cool cavern, it was merely tradition. “The villages will take out their frustrations on the Central Council, and then where will we be? Down here, without anyone upside to implement our decisions! All I’m suggesting is to allow Frobs some sense of accomplishment.”

The group was silent. None of the restrictionists were interested.

With compressed strata due to disappointment, Lolux padded towards the exit. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I have some real work to do.”

“Real work,” echoed the ChairFrob. “Hmmmm. Perhaps you’re right.”

Lolux stopped in its tracks.

“You’re not listening to Lolux, are you?” asked Zetzn.

“You and I aren’t the only Frobs with good ideas. You can’t deny Lolux’s six ometers.” The ChairFrob addressed Lolux. “Go on.”

This was an unexpected opening. Was the ChairFrob using up the promised favor? Lolux hadn’t asked for anything, but this was an opportunity. “Can’t we harness Frob creativity instead of stomping on it? There must be some purpose –“

Eeenu made one of its infrequent comments. “I understand. The population needs to think they’re contributing.”

“Why not really contribute?” asked Takis. “Something for the common good.”

“Something to get their attention. A distraction, something to take their collective mind off the tightening of rules and regulations,” said Zetzn.

Lolux scampered back to its position between its colleagues. “The elimination of their freedom, don’t you mean?”

“It’s our charter, bless The Gaian,” said the ChairFrob, “and it’s for their own good.”

“So you tell us!” said Takis.

“I have it!” said Zetzn. “What if we commission Lolux’s buddies in the Structures division of the Manufacturing village to build a taaaaaall tower –“

Takis wobbled, then slipped into the pond. The black ooze covered all but Takis’s top surface. When it emerged, dark goop shot from its pucker. “Do you find it logical to make fellow Frobs dizzy?”

Zetzn continued, “And we recruit some Frob to squat at the top. If the tower was tall enough, every village could see it. That would be a spectacular distraction!”

Takis yelled, “Stop it!”

“No Frob in its right mind would volunteer for such a stunt,” said Eeenu.

“I meant something truly useful,” said Lolux. “Think about it. When was the last time Frobs banded together, for a single purpose?”

Dumal started to scoot off to search for the answer.

The ChairFrob’s voice dropped half an octave. “The answer’s as obvious as my ceremonial horn.” The assembled waited. “The Nzorglq pummeling.”

Balast shouted “Nzorglq!” and then huddled close to Lolux.

“That was decades ago,” said Zetzn.

“Five, to be precise,” said Takis.

Fifty years! That’s the anniversary of the Nzorglq assault! Lolux trembled as early memories came rushing back. Day after day, Nzorglq weapons had blasted Frobzb’s planetary shield. All power was diverted, to keep the shield intact against the onslaught. Frobs uncharacteristically huddled tightly in residences and workplaces. All activity stopped. Eventually, the Nzorglq gave up, unable to penetrate the shield. However, many Frobs had been permanently traumatized, including Balast, who made a habit of leaning against Lolux.

Balast trembled, making waves in the moogly pond.

Lolux tried to get the ChairFrob’s attention, but the ChairFrob seemed distracted.

“And it rallied every Frob in defense of our planet,” continued Takis.

“So, what do you propose? Invite those brutes back for another try?” asked Zetzn.

Perhaps the ChairFrob has a plan, or maybe not. After the upcoming perigol, our power level will fall again. “No one is suggesting we invite them. Only that we prepare.” Lolux recalled the Power village data. It took every barvolt of power we had to stave off those brutes last time. Now, we couldn't generate a shield of that strength if we had to! If the Nzorglq return, we'll be overrun and crushed, and our planet pillaged for our ecracs and other resources. “Our defenses should be as strong as they can be. Vicious species are still out there. Don’t you agree?”

“Makes sense to me,” said the ChairFrob, rejoining the conversation.

Lolux rose on stiff pads. “I recommend a shield-strengthening project, in honor of the 50th anniversary of the attempted Nzorglq invasion.” And to achieve a stronger shield, we’ll need to solve the power problem!

“Nzorglq!” shouted Balast.

Zetzn looked back and forth at Lolux and the ChairFrob, agreeing. “Hard to argue.”

The ChairFrob paused, as if waiting for some dissenting remark. None was offered. “Dumal, poll the members.”

“All in favor of Lolux’s unexpected but rational recommendation, raise a pad.”

For the first time that Lolux could remember, the vote was unanimous.

The ChairFrob relaxed, sinking deeper into the pond. “Have the Central Council form a new Subsubcommittee, consisting of –“

“Any group that low in the hierarchy will be ignored,” said Lolux. “The vote was unanimous.”

“All right, a full Committee!” said the ChairFrob. “Direct the Central Council to issue a global communication. Every division of every village should select one Frob –“

“Their best performer –“ suggested Lolux.

“Every village?” asked Zetzn. “Even Nutritives?”

“Yes, every one,” said the ChairFrob. “An outstanding performer, but one of their choosing, to work on improving the planetary shield.”

“Good. While they concentrate on that vital task,” Zetzn cleared its pucker, “we can get back to running the planet.”

“Any other new business?” asked the ChairFrob.

Dumal sputtered. “As long as the scope of this meeting has already been expanded, might I remind you that the Yubllez have contacted the Central Council again.”

“Why don’t they just go away?” asked Zetzn.

“They’re after our ecracs!” said Eeenu.

The last thing we need to do is sell off our source of power, thought Lolux.

“They won’t stop badgering us until we talk to them,” said Takis.

“We’re too busy,” said Zetzn. “Let someone from the Central Council do it.”

“No, we need to control the conversation,” replied the ChairFrob.

“Let me,” said Zetzn. “I’ll tell them where to go.”

The ChairFrob turned to the expansionist side of the pond. “Lolux, contact the Yubllez. Have the chat they so desperately desire. But don’t buy anything.”

“Or sell anything,” added Dumal.

“Especially our ecracs!” said Eeenu.

Just what I need – more work. “All right,” said Lolux. “Forward the details of their communication frequency and modulation to me and I’ll contact them.”

“Any more new business? Any old business?” asked Dumal.

“Don’t forget, it’s almost time to make another editing pass of the Official History. Just to be sure we haven’t missed anything incriminating,” said Zetzn.

“Or useful,” said Takis.

Dumal turned off the recorder. “Meeting adjourned.”

 

Chapter Four [on Frobzb] - Bicker Quicker

 

Gifter rode the Mover straight towards the Manufacturing village, despite exits to various moogly ponds that promised temporary but effective relief from the heat of dual suns. Its new assignment, enhancing the planetary shield, was highest priority. The Central Council had stressed the urgency of generating a stronger shield because of the Nzorglq threat. Finally, work the Central Council will appreciate and approve, thought Gifter. Too bad my appointment didn’t include Terfin. It’s dangerous, leaving my partner back at the lab alone with all my unfinished work.

The conveyor made a sharp bend, snaking around the perimeter of the low-rise stone structures until it hugged the taller Mechanism building that made Gifter dizzy. A quick shuffle onto the exit ramp put Gifter at the entrance. The high ceilings were disorienting, but better than being outside. Frobs scurried by, most in wearable tools.

The Frobzb Official History was uniquely vague on the topic of wearable tools. Legends embellished by speculation provided the only guidance. According to folklore, millions of years ago Frobs were self-indulgent creatures with no industry and no work ethic. With only six flat pads, their species was at a serious disadvantage - until the introduction of wearable tools. Each wearable tool was a machine equipped with sensory amplifiers, pinchers, grapplers, drillers, welders or shovels. The various mechanisms were attached on the outside, with controls on the inside. Frobs would climb inside the tools and use their body positions and their six pads to manipulate the controls.

The bustle of activity around Gifter contrasted with the slow, methodical pace back at Research. The air was filled with crackling welders and whining motors, all to a steady pounding in the background.

A tool rolled up and a voice projected from a built-in speaker. “What you want?”

“I'm looking for Fetex,” said Gifter.

The operator inside raised a drill arm and pointed towards a mottled Frob standing under a metal tablet that hung from the ceiling.

Gifter padded in that direction until it reached the target. “I'm Gifter, from Materials Research.” Up close, the metal tablet was an unusual configuration of an information access device, more accessible than the kind a Frob usually had to crawl into. “I’m assigned to the planetary shield project –“

Fetex marched out from under, its voice a grumble. “You’re not the first to come calling. Others made appointments.” Fetex jerked to the left, then to the right, then finally faced Gifter. “I’m busy. Improve the power output of the ecracs.”

The pebbles that power everything on the planet? Blunt and wrong. “Nice to meet you, too. That approach won’t work. I need to tell you –“

“Where’s Otis? I’ve got rounds to make.” Fetex scampered away in a zigzag pattern.

The strata inside Gifter’s body grated. What an attitude! Gifter had to trot to keep up. Its pads ached from pounding against the stone floor.

Gifter stopped at a project room where Fetex stood, watching some kind of demonstration. A Frob in a wearable tool was projecting a thin purple beam from one of two thin cylinders mounted on top of the tool. The target was a bare metal cube.

“What’s this?” asked Gifter.

“Shhhh. The scan must be accurate.”

Gifter stood silent while the anonymous Frob performed the task. Occasionally, the beam would split or sputter. When the procedure was complete, Gifter spoke up. “Now can you tell me what’s going on?”

“Three-dimensional scanner,” said Fetex.

Frobs gathered information in 3D through their ometers, as well as temperature and density, but Gifter had never heard of a device that could record such readings. “Fascinating! How does it work?”

“Simulates ometers. Stores the 3D model.” Fetex was a Frob of few words.

Getting information from Fetex was like trying to find a cool place to nurture grand thoughts. “How would the model be used?”

“Efficient storage of schematics. Even automated replication. Watch.”

By now, the scanner operator had rolled over to a chute with a conveyor belt attached. Fetex whistled a signal. A green beam shot out from the second tool-mounted cylinder. The conveyor belt dragged bits of ore and rock from a raised bin into the tool. Something began to appear on the floor where the green beam was aimed. Slowly but surely, an edge, then a surface, then a complete object appeared. Not identical to the original cube. In fact, completely distorted, its surfaces were wavy, and every edge was a different length. Still, a solid object had been generated from a stored 3D model!

“Amazing!” cried Gifter. “How soon will this go into production? We could certainly use a couple at Research.”

“Never. Stores the models in sparkles. Sources have dried up.”

Gifter had often witnessed Central Council-dispatched gatherers who’d appear from nowhere, vacuum up any sparkle blasts, and disappear. What was the Central Council collecting them for?

A Frob marched in, stopping just short of Gifter and Fetex. Its tone was direct, but not arrogant or dismissive like Fetex. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

“I’m Gifter, from Materials Research. I was selected for the planetary shield effort.”

“Finally, a project that makes sense. Welcome. I’m Solow, facility manager.”

Gifter had thought Fetex was the manager, the way it acted.

Solow moved to body-bump Gifter, but Gifter took a step back. “It’s dangerous for Frobs to be wandering about.” Solow snorted. “Especially with Fetex in charge. Carry on.” As quickly as it had arrived, Solow made a hasty retreat.

“I should say thanks,” said Fetex. “Solow second guesses every decision. Might behave with a visitor.”

Solow was visible, peeking around a corner. If Sebby, Gifter’s supervisor, was just as nosey, Sebby was subtle.

Workers scooted past, as if they were late. The bustle of activity overwhelmed Gifter. There was so little underway back at Gifter’s laboratory in comparison. “How do you get so many approved projects?”

“I’ve stopped sending in requests. They all get turned back. Thank The Gaian, I work on what I want. As long as the funding continues. On request, we perform custom builds.”

The 3D scanner operator approached the pair.

“Great job, Otis!” said Fetex.

“We need to tune the modeling circuitry, and the regenerator. Look at that!” said Otis. “It’s supposed to be a cube, for Gaian’s sake. What a disaster.”

Fetex offered no reply. Couldn’t Fetex own up to a failure?

“I’ve another test coming up.” Otis bolted past them into the next room.

Fetex acknowledged that Gifter was still there. “Work on the ecracs.”

I don’t take orders from irrational engineers. “The ecracs work fine,” said Gifter. “Besides, they’re off limits. I won't be responsible for a planet-wide shutdown of energy. They’re so finicky, just displacing a few pebbles –“

Fetex had already moved off, following Otis’s trail of accidental slime. Gifter blew out a small sparkle shower. A sucker tool shot out from the hallway and slurped up the expectoration before Gifter could pad along in pursuit.

In the second room, a metal covering manufactured specifically to Otis’s contour had been lowered onto its top surface. Two connections to a wall were visible.

“Don’t tell me. That’s a personalized cooling machine,” said Gifter.

Fetex didn’t answer. The lumpy parts of the metal sheath glowed in a recognizable pattern.

“Is that data access?” asked Gifter.

“Right. Customized information terminal,” replied Fetex.

“Nice. No more shuttling in and out, just carry it with you. I could get used to that.”

“Hard to manufacture. Shaping is meticulous work. Softer materials might be molded.”

For a data fanatic like Gifter, this was a dream come true. “Just think, I could access information wherever I’d go.”

“It doesn’t work that way. See the cables?”

Otis wandered away from its position, exposing two long bare cables plugged into wall sockets.

“One day I’ll conquer portable power,” said Fetex. “Then cable-less transmission. Still need to plug in.”

A tooled up Frob barreled through the room, running over the two cables. Sparks flew and Otis danced, its whole body leaving the ground.

“Another device shorted out!” said Fetex.

Gifter approached Otis, but not too close. “Are you okay?”

“No problem.” Smoke puffed from Otis’s pucker, accompanied by a smoldering odor. “I do all of the dangerous stunts here. Quite a tickle, really.” Otis slipped out from beneath the fried covering and staggered out of the room.

“You still here?” asked Fetex.

Gifter ignored the remark. “Speaking of power, I stopped at several power stations on the way here.”

“Aren’t they marvelous? Designed them myself.”

Gifter knew that shield generators predated any current living Frob, but decided not to argue.

“Where did Otis go? You’re from Materials?” asked Fetex. “Extract more power from the ecracs.”

This builder ignores me, and logic. “I can’t touch the ecracs. Are your ometers malfunctioning?”

“I know the rule,” said Fetex. “We’re not ignorant.”

“Of course you’re not. Some of these inventions border on brilliant. Maybe you can enhance the power generators. Get a few million extra barvolts out of them. That shouldn’t be so difficult, given the skills I’ve witnessed.”

“Generators run at peak efficiency. Work on the power source. Let me know your results.” Fetex trotted away.

Gifter anticipated the reaction and trailed along. Fetex was one of those engineers who knew every answer, as long as you asked the correct question. But, give them something unexpected, and they put up a barrier every bit as impenetrable as the planetary shield. “Those generators I saw? They're leaking like Frobs with slime glands on maximum setting.”

Fetex stopped and faced Gifter. “Leaking?”

“They’re throwing off power that could be used to generate a stronger shield.”

Fetex walked completely around Gifter. “Measurement requires a device. Where’s your tool?”

“My ometers are sensitive to power levels.”

Fetex went up on tippypads to examine the topside of the visitor. “Maybe with five.” Fetex paused. “I built them perfect. Perfect.”

“They’re not perfect if they’re wasting so much energy.”

“We’re stuck with monoatomic materials. Power can’t be contained. You saw!”

Any Frob past second module knew that elements on Frobzb were monoatomic and conductors. Thank The Gaian, the planet’s crust acts as an insulator against the ecracs layer below or we’d all be electrocuted.

“There are no alternative power sources,” said Gifter. “The only solution to strengthening the shield is to increase the efficiency of the generators. Which is why I came to see you.” With all these projects, it’s no wonder Fetex isn’t engaging on this one.

“Generators operate to specifications.”

Fetex was one obstinate Frob. “If your specifications allow a successful Nzorglq attack, who’s the winner?” asked Gifter.

In a metal harness surrounding its body, extensions clamped to its pads raising it three times its normal height, Otis ambled into the room. It towered over the other Frobs.

Gifter had never seen such an outrageous contraption. “What kind of a wearable tool is that?

“My latest concept – direct extension.”

Otis moved forward until it was standing above the pair. The bottom of Otis’s body became their new ceiling.

Gifter tried to focus its ometers straight ahead, lest it tilt and bump into one of Otis’s appendages. “How can you be up so high? Doesn’t it make you dizzy?”

“Nope. I love it! On the next model, make the extensions longer, okay?” Otis exited the room with just two steps.

“Consider enhancing the ecracs,” said Fetex.

Progress! This time, it was a suggestion, not an order. “All right.” Gifter counted to two. “There, I considered it. Mucking with the pebbles won’t work.”

“All right! My rounds are done. We’ll check a shield generator.” Fetex made its way towards a wall lined with wearable tools, all neatly stowed. It selected one with a single crystal-tipped arm.

Gifter waited until Fetex had tooled up. “And if the generators are leaking, as I’ve reported?”

“We’ll pursue insulation. That means imported materials. You’ll order them.”

“Why me?”

“First, it’s your idea,” said Fetex. “Second, my manager won’t approve.”

Solow was still hanging out at the edge of the doorway, spying on the pair.

“Follow me,” said Fetex. A sloping ramp led down from the entry level to ground level.

Gifter was relieved that their direction was down, not up. “Where are we going?”

“We have a generator onsite. Easiest one to measure.”

The two Frobs exited the building at a lower level. A few yards away, a shield generator sat on a glistening bed of ecracs. Even at their distance, the high-pitched whine of the generator was evident. A plain metal box glistening in the sunlight stood on four tripod legs with a single metal coil protruding from the top. Within the coil were polished gemstones, the largest available on the planet. When properly aligned, the gems focused the ecracs energy, painting a portion of Frobzb’s upper atmosphere with an impenetrable barrier. A single guard stood watch. As they traversed the gentle slope, they passed under Movers held aloft on sturdy metal pylons.

Gifter noticed tracks made by excavation equipment. “This bed’s been expanded recently. See, the marks are fresh.”

Fetex crawled out from the tool. “So?”

“That’s precisely the wrong thing to do.” Gifter directed its question to the guard. “Who authorized this?”

“The Central Council approved a joint proposal from the Mining and Nutritives villages.”

Fetex backed away from the metal enclosure. “Use this calibrated measuring tool.”

Was this some kind of trick? “You're not going to take the readings?”

“You won't believe me. Do it.”

“Okay.” Gifter hesitated, and then crawled into the metal box. The controls lit up. “I’ve never used a tool like this. How does it work?”

“Probe near the junction. Near the ground. Don’t touch,” said Fetex.

Gifter aimed the crystal-tipped arm of the tool at the point where cables came up from the exposed bed of ecracs.

“Close enough. Take a reading,” said Fetex.

Gifter pressed a large button on the floor. An emitter on the ceiling projected the measurement to Gifter. “Got it!”

“Now probe at the generator coil.”

The generator coil was the spiral that pointed towards the sky. It reminded Gifter of its enshebuly, tucked safe within its posterior. Gifter swung the arm up.

“Not too close,” said Fetex.

The arm moved on its own as Gifter wrestled with the controls. “It’s moving on its own! I can’t keep it –“

Fetex shouted, “Don't touch!”

The warning was too late. The tool’s arm made contact. Gifter gyrated as a burst of energy entered its body. The tool went dark. The whine of the shield generator dropped an octave.

Gifter attempted to regain its senses and composure. With difficulty, it slapped at the release latch.

Fetex tramped around the metal box with Gifter inside. “Look what you've done. The tool’s burnt out.”

No comments about my well-being. Uncooperative and inconsiderate. Gifter limped out. Smoke seeped from Gifter’s body. Its pads throbbed.

“Follow me,” said Fetex.

The two Frobs ascended the same ramp they’d come down. Fetex gained a large lead on the struggling Gifter, whose body was hotter than if it had spent all day outdoors. Every step generated stabbing pains.

Fetex stopped at the top, and selected a tool in which to crawl. “What was the junction measurement?”

Smoke puffed from Gifter’s pucker as it gave Fetex the first reading.

“Stand still. You absorbed the generator’s energy. I can measure residuals.” Fetex aimed a probe at Gifter and contemplated the results. “You’re right. Massive power loss.”

What a tough Frob to convince! “I’m glad we finally agree.”

“So, order raw materials. Off-world. I’ll research insulation. We’ll invent a polyatomic material.”

“A synthetic, you mean.”

Fetex nodded.

As a young Frob, Gifter had taken lessons on viable scientific pursuits. Synthetics were called out specifically as impossible and therefore not worthy of any effort. “I can’t tell my supervisor I’m attempting to create a synthetic. I’ll lose all credibility.”

“I make them regularly. Stronger wearable tool shells are synthetic, just monoatomic. The foundry mixes a variety of ores.”

“You can’t fool a Materials researcher.” Gifter’s body finally began to cool. “That’s a blend, not a synthetic.”

“What’s the difference? You convinced me. There’s a problem. Now we solve it,” said Fetex. “Insulation will prevent power leakage. Insulators require off-Frobzb materials. Get them.”

“I’d have to lie to my supervisor!”

“Like that’s something new?” Fetex looked around, perhaps for Solow. Gifter shied away. “You haven’t, have you?” For the first time, Fetex laughed. “Time I got back. I wonder what Otis is doing –“

“Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll place an order for alien materials. Have any suggestions where to get some?”

“Not a clue.” Fetex received a reading from the chrono emitter on the wall. “Nutritive time. Want some?”

The feeding trough at Research was nearly empty last time I checked. Besides, I’ve got to work with this Frob. Maybe some nominal bonding would help. “Sure. A Frob’s got to eat,” said Gifter.

They strolled to a Nutritive station in the far corner and stood at adjacent troughs carved into the floor.

Gifter sucked some of the dry mixture up its pucker. The blend was tasty, with an unusual texture containing occasional lumps. “You don’t receive the fine-grained nutritives that we use in our village.” Gifter sucked harder.

“We don’t inhale them either,” said Fetex.

I must be hungrier than I thought. Gifter slowed its consumption. “There’s something satisfying in the crunch as they’re ingested. I hope this stuff doesn’t disagree with me.”

“Like I did?” asked Fetex. “You are quite persistent. Brilliant, but feisty. Novel combination.”

“Thanks,” said Gifter. “I think.”

“Consider gemsha with me?” asked Fetex.

“What?” Gifter didn’t believe its ometers. The nerve of this Frob, proposing we perform the mating ritual. “I’ve only just met you.” And you haven’t exactly been easy to work with. Curiosity got the better of Gifter. “Why do you ask?”

“You’re my intellectual equal. You win, but continue arguing. The naivest Frob ever. Unique.”

There was no logic in Gifter’s reply. “I’ll think about it and let you know.”

Chapter Five [on Frobzb] - Frobs With Secrets

 

Terfin dawdled at its workstation, waddling back and forth on its pads, its ometers aimed towards the ceiling.

Where in The Gaian’s name is Gifter? thought Terfin.

No reply from the Heavens. Dizzy from the experience, Terfin moved to the slotted windows to regain its bearings and watch for its lab partner. Across the rough terrain of Frobzb, infrequent cooling ponds of black moogly contrasted with sparkling beds of exposed ecracs pebbles. Movers crisscrossed the barren landscape, transporting crowds of citizens from their residences to their work locations within the Research village, every citizen except Gifter. Dual suns forced long sharp shadows, which had been converging as the suns moved closer. After precisely six more cycles, the mated pair of stars would reach perigol and overlap as one in the rose tinted sky.

The other researchers had formed an arc in the middle of the room. Standing two body lengths apart, they rehearsed for status reporting. It was the same procedure every day. Terfin watched Sebby, the supervisor, wiggle up a ramp into a custom-built machine, a flip-top recording tool.

Once Sebby was inside, the custom-designed lid dropped. Holes in the lid coincided precisely with Sebby’s ometers, so it could measure the temperature and density of each reporting scientist. Higher than normal density and temperature indicated stress, casting doubt on the veracity of the report. The back panel that had acted as an entry ramp flipped up and clicked shut.

Terfin’s ometers shifted back and forth between the doorway and the line of researchers. Still no Gifter.

You’re supposed to be here. You’re the one Sebby values.

The hard metal wheels of Sebby’s device crunched along the uneven stone floor. Sebby rolled from researcher to researcher, recording status, plus temperature and density. When necessary, Sebby made additional assignments, to keep each Frob fully occupied. Terfin teetered towards the center of the room. The grinding sound of Sebby’s device pulled at Terfin like a magnet. As laboratory teammates, either Gifter, Terfin or both were required to join the line-up, but Terfin was unprepared. Every project is Gifter’s. How can Sebby expect me to have something meaningful to say? Shaking, Terfin selected the closest wearable tool, one with a drill mechanism, and climbed inside. Terfin swerved through the carefully spaced work areas, finally joining its colleagues. None of them was wearing tools.

Sebby rolled up just as Terfin filled an empty place in line. “Well, we seem to have only one of you today. You’re dressed for work, although I don’t understand why someone degreed in fluids would be tooled up for ore sampling.” Shrill whistles at various frequencies denouncing the illogic rose from the group. “Since I can’t make a complete recording with you inside that contraption, I’ll accept an audible-only report.”

Terfin’s guts tightened. It wiggled around within the metal casing, searching for a more comfortable position. The whir of a motor broke the silence. The metal armor creaked. Terfin felt the armature swing.

“What are you trying to do, puncture me?” Sebby shouted. “Turn that thing off!”

“I’ve never used this tool before.” Terfin rocked within the metal shell and tried pressing its pads against the internal controls but the drill continued to spin.

Sebby whistled above the humming noise. “I know Gifter does all the work on your team. The least you can do is produce a credible status report.”

“I –“ Terfin was familiar with everything Gifter had accomplished. But taking responsibility for reporting it? What if Terfin got it wrong, said something was complete and it wasn’t, or said something was in trouble but it was going along just fine? Gifter’s reports were always accurate and well received. Why couldn’t Terfin think straight?

Sebby’s voice got louder. “I’m putting another negative notation on your record. A couple more of these, and you’ll be someone else’s problem. In a mining camp.”

Thumping of pads on the hard floor, caused by a Frob in a hurry, competed with the buzzing. Another Frob approached, but the tool encasing Terfin’s body prevented precise identification. Gifter?

“Sorry I’m late,” said Gifter. “The Mover broke down. But I have great news.”

Gifter! Thank The Gaian! Now Sebby will have its report!

“Great news? That’s what I like to hear from my most creative researcher.” Sebby must have backed away, because its voice got softer. “So, what do you have for me?”

“Uh, we’ve invented a way to recycle waste from the Nutritive Materials village to supplement power generation. It isn’t a lot, but it’s something.”

“More power?” Sebby rattled its enclosure. “That is great news!”

Waste recycling? Did we work on that?

“I had a discussion with Fetex, an engineer over in Manufacturing, that took longer than I expected. Then I was delayed. Those unpredictable Movers! Terfin, is that you?”

With Gifter’s immediate proximity, the knot inside unwound. “Uh huh.”

Gifter continued, “We’ll begin developing the specifications for the converter immediately. Did you get all that recorded?”

“Yes, right here.” Sebby tapped from inside the tool. “Marvelous!”

Gifter paused, then whistled. “We will need some non-native materials for the prototype, assuming you want us to build one.”

“Again? Every one of your projects seems to require off-world materials.” Sebby hesitated, tooting an ascending scale, then a descending one. “All right. I’ll approve an import order. But please, keep it small. Besides my budget, you know how these things are monitored.”

“Certainly. No more than we need.” Some Frob body-bumped Terfin’s tool. The drill bit stopped.

“Thank you. This will headline the report to my superiors. I’m certain they will pass it all the way up to the Central Council for final approval. You’re in for a bonus for sure.”

“What about me?” said Terfin. “We work on everything together.” A round of deep whistles signaling disagreement erupted from their colleagues.

Sebby spoke up so the entire line could hear. “We all know who has the talent. Just be thankful I haven’t switched the pairings.” Warbles of discontent floated back in reply. Sebby addressed Gifter. “Unless you’d like me to.”

“No, thank you. We’re a team,” said Gifter.

Sebby dismissed the group, then streaked back to its office, a positive recording in its possession. The other researchers retreated to their workstations, soft twitters accompanying their movement.

Gifter strutted down the main aisle towards their shared workspace, in a prime location closest one to the door.

Terfin rolled along beside, the drill arm swinging from side to side. “Since when have we been working on waste recycling?”

“Since when have you started taking ore samples?” Gifter bumped Terfin’s metal shell with its body. The drill bit resumed spinning.

“I couldn’t face Sebby bare. I got another negative notation on my record because of you.” Accumulated fluids bubbled through the strata inside Terfin’s body.

“Me? – Can’t you turn that thing off? – I wasn’t even here.”

“Precisely!”

“Lean against the pressure plate on your right. We work together, side by side, on every project.” Gifter’s voice continued to travel. “It’s not like you had to provide the gory details of our work, just the status.”

“Not every project.” Terfin clanked along behind, the drill arm swinging from side to side. “You’re working alone on the planetary shield. How could I know anything about this ‘waste recycling’ doodad.”

Gifter’s voice was muffled. “You couldn’t.” Gifter must have reached their workstation and slipped into their computer terminal, a stationary data access tool. “I made it up on the way here.”

“Out of thin air?” No matter what pad Terfin pressed against the controls inside the drilling tool, nothing made a difference.

“No. It’s a combination of three previous research projects I found while searching the Official History. No Frob ever put those concepts together this way before. Let me record the details before I forget them.”

“I never have that kind of luck.” Terfin unlatched its tool and crawled out. The drill tip grated against the hard floor, throwing up sparks and shards of stone before coming to a halt. Only Gifter’s curved back end was visible, sticking out of the computer terminal they shared. “You told Sebby you visited some Frob over in the Manufacturing village? That’s quite a distance!”

Gifter emerged from the terminal. “Fetex is its name.”

For the first time that day, Terfin saw its entire partner. Gifter was a fine figure of a Frob: an almost perfect ellipsoid around, smooth convex on top, and uniform density throughout except for the brain area, where the density doubled. Five ometers, translucent domes on Gifter’s top surface, formed an unusual pattern - one near the front, and four others in a lopsided rhombus. Not three randomly placed ones like me. One fewer, and I would have been assigned to a Mining village right out of school. Six pads supporting Gifter’s body were the only ordinary aspect of its physiology. Any Frob would have been delighted just to be Gifter’s lab partner, but Terfin had a grander goal – to perform gemsha, the mating ritual, with Gifter.

Terfin had been examined recently at the Medical village, complaining about lack of concentration. A structural integrity inspection was also performed. The attending physician reported Terfin had no cracks and could participate in gemsha with any Frob that was willing, whenever convenient. On the issue of Terfin’s lack of concentration, the doctor had hesitated, then prescribed a relaxation powder and advised Terfin to focus harder.

Terfin sensed a burning smell from the discarded drilling tool. “Tell me about this Frob.”

“Let’s see. Fetex is average shape and density. Doesn’t talk much. Oh, and very strong pads.”

“’Would have to, being a metalbender.” Terfin pushed the ore tool back into the nearest storage closet.

Gifter’s tone lowered in frequency. “Stone and ore are all they have to work with. Given the circumstances, Fetex has been moderately successful.

“Do you make a habit of partnering up with underachievers?”

“It’s not Fetex’s fault. Its supervisor meddles, always second-guessing while raising expectations,” said Gifter.

So Fetex must claim.

Gifter continued, “I met the supervisor. Solow challenged me on my first visit, like I had no business being there. Shouldn’t the shield be their highest priority? Solow kept one ometer locked on me during my visit.”

“Would you expect any supervisor to turn closed ometers to work by an underling and a stranger from another village?” asked Terfin.

“Probably not. But Sebby doesn’t strut around like Solow, ranting how smoothly our entire village would run if it were in charge.”

“I guess we’re lucky to have a reasonable supervisor.”

“Praise The Gaian. I have to say, Fetex is quite creative for a Manufacturing specialist.”

“Really? I thought we were the idea Frobs and they were the builders.” Maybe Gifter would pay more attention if I built something. “What kinds of ideas does Fetex have?”

“All kinds of things.” Gifter turned away.

It wasn’t like Gifter to hold back. Was that a temperature increase? Terfin circled around. “Like what?”

“The inflexibility of our current materials. Possibilities for the future.” Gifter reduced its volume to a whisper. “And, some personal stuff.”

Terfin thumped one pad in anticipation. “Really? I’m your teammate. You said so. Shouldn’t you talk to me about personal stuff?”

“I guess I can tell you. After all, if I do it, it would affect you.”

“Do what?” Terfin’s pads curled with thoughts of dangerous or illegal activities.

“If I performed gemsha and perhaps even carried.”

Gemsha? Terfin didn’t believe the auditory function of its ometers. Gifter was considering mating? This is my big chance! “Of course it would affect me.”

Gifter padded a one-eighty. “Now let me get back to work. I’ve got three projects underway, not including the recycler.” Gifter stuck itself back into the terminal.

Terfin tapped the release and a metal drawer popped open. It pushed the drawer back in, then tapped the release. Terfin repeated the actions twice more, waiting for its partner to notice.

Gifter sauntered out from the computer terminal. “Something on your mind?”

Terfin shoved the drawer closed. “Have you picked a gemsha partner?”

“No. I don’t even know if I’m going to bother. To be honest, I hadn’t given it a thought until Fetex raised the possibility.” Gifter stuck itself back into the computer terminal. “And volunteered.”

Terfin felt its insides pulsate. It had never conceived of Gifter choosing anyone else. “But that’s not the way things work. Fetex is Manufacturing, and you’re Research.”

Gifter’s reply was muted. “There are no rules about intervillage breeding.”

“Maybe not, but it certainly isn’t standard practice. No, that wouldn’t work at all.”

Gifter was silent inside the computer terminal.

Terfin considered the ramifications. “If you carry, you’ll be laid up in the Medical village for days. Oh my! Sebby will ship me off to the most remote Mining village as soon as you’re gone.”

Gifter’s voice leaked out from the cowling. “You must have some natural abilities, or you wouldn’t have been placed here.”

Terfin remembered the humiliation of having had its name called last at graduation, receiving an assignment in moogly maintenance. Gifter had engaged the career assignment officials in an animated discussion. Later that same day, Terfin’s assignment was changed to be Gifter’s partner in research. How had that been arranged? “Don’t be so sure!” Terfin twittered a downward spiral. “I didn’t know you were interested in breeding, let alone carrying.”

Gifter pulled back from the terminal. “I’m not. I wasn’t.” It laid, pads relaxed. “Frobzb will get along just fine if I choose not to breed. There are many others who will. I keep hearing from colleagues who’ve done it, that’s all. Pretty soon, my underbelly will be too dense and I’ll lose the opportunity.”

Terfin perked up. “Now that you mention it, I’ve been thinking about it too. Breeding, that is.” Terfin posed. “Now might be a good time. I need to be on the lookout for a high quality gemsha partner.”

“Well, I wish you the best of luck.”

Terfin scanned its lab associate from front to back. No internal reaction. “We might as well get started on that new thing. What did you call it?”

Gifter paced, not making a sound. It was concentrating, not to be disturbed. “You know, I was thinking about your final school project.”

“That boring old experiment?”

“Not the one you did.” Gifter stopped pacing. “The one you didn't do. Quite creative, if I remember correctly.”

“Oh, that.” The memories of having a truly innovative final project rejected still hurt. “Storing Information in Liquid Form,” said Terfin. “My advisor granted me a high score for originality and then dismissed it with prejudice.”

“And you say you can’t invent!” said Gifter. “Where did you get the inspiration?

“Don't be disappointed, but I found the concept in the Official History. It was a solitary entry in an ancient archive. I was reading random items and found that one by chance.”

Gifter was bouncing up and down. “Did the article describe any details? I mean, how this was supposed to work?”

“Just the hypothesis. Since Frobzb has so little liquid, I guess no one followed up. What’s next for this recycler?”

“Stay with me, for just a moment.” Gifter stood directly in front of Terfin, well within Terfin’s personal space.

I would stay with Gifter forever. Terfin stood like a rock, waiting for Gifter to ask for gemsha.

“No naturally-occurring liquids on Frobzb have this property. So one would have to be created?”

That stupid old idea! Terfin relaxed. “Imported, if it existed somewhere, or created, I guess.”

Gifter’s whistle was shrill. “You mean, a synthetic!”

“Shhh! Those are impossible. You must remember the lessons from our Viable Pursuits module. Researchers have proven it, time and time again.”

Gifter interrogated Terfin. “But you submitted the proposal. You were going to try. Did you have a detailed plan? I mean, had you identified any specifics? What kinds of materials were you going to use?”

Why was Gifter so interested in liquids all of a sudden? “My instructor had good reason for rejecting the project. Think about it. What if I created a you-know-what that could carry information. How would any Frob write data, or read it later? Someone would have to invent devices for that purpose. And how would the information get from one place to another? If we installed pipes, most of the liquid would evaporate before it flowed anywhere.”

Gifter nodded. “The idea itself implied an avalanche of changes.”

“Right. So, instead, I was directed to perform the old ‘rates of evaporation’ experiment. Nothing added to the general knowledge base.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. It earned you a dimpla.”

“A charity grant. Let’s get going on the recycler. The Central Council is waiting. Who knows how close the Nzorglq might be.”

“Mind telling me where that ancient entry is?” Gifter saddled closer to the computer terminal.

“Don't bother. It's gone. The Official History is shrinking, day by day.”

“You probably misremember the search values.”

“I remember perfectly. Let me.” Terfin crawled into the terminal. The emitters aligned themselves with Terfin’s four ometers. The remaining two emitters deactivated.

Gifter was shouting to be heard. “Things don't disappear from the Official History. It's permanent.”

“It leaks like a Frob with bad glands. All sorts of items have gone missing. I keep telling you – see, I was right. That entry is gone, like so many other articles.” Terfin exited the machine. “Why does it matter, after all this time? It was a one-line suggestion.” Something was not right. Gifter’s temperature and density were higher. “What project is this for? The waste converter?”

Gifter spun. “Uh, yes. Exactly right! It uses liquids to, uh, process the waste into, uh, energy. To supplement the ecracs.”

Terfin brightened at the thought that liquids would be a vital part of Gifter’s work. “That's fantastic!”

“Yes it is, actually.”

“We can use all the power we can generate.” News feeds were constantly mentioning the anniversary of the Nzorglq invasion, and how every Frob must be prepared. The only preparation Terfin knew of was the planetary shield project, and Gifter won that assignment from their village.

“Absolutely! Sebby agreed to an off-Frobzb order. Let’s choose some raw liquids to purchase.”

This was an opportunity for vindication, and Terfin took it. “Perhaps a bit more, so I can try my storage experiments?”

“All right, but not too much. I promised Sebby.”

“I've never done an off-Frobzb order before. Mind if I construct it?” asked Terfin.

“Not at all. I have, many times. Go ahead, I’ll coach you.”

Terfin crawled back into their terminal.

“Check the authorized supplier list,” said Gifter.

The emitters zapped information at Terfin. “Got it. The top supplier is a planet called Erutin. Ever of heard of it?

Gifter paused. “No. Do they have liquids?”

Terfin’s ometers collected more details. “Quite a selection, from natural underground streams. They’ve rank-ordered the items in their catalog by popularity with customers.”

“How accommodating! Do they list attributes like atomicity or conductivity?”

Terfin scanned every attribute listed. “Color, purity, mineral content, viscosity, acidity. Nope. What now?”

Gifter was silent for what seemed to be a long time. “Select reasonable quantities of the top three most popular.”

Moments later, Terfin exited the terminal. “Done. I’ve submitted the order for Sebby’s approval. Under your name, of course.” Terfin moved towards the tool closets, waiting for Gifter to advise the appropriate one to wear. “So what else do we need to do for our recycling whoozits? A device of some kind, right?”

“Yes. I worked out the preliminary requirements while waiting for the Mover to restart.” Gifter moved towards the exit. “I’ve entered that information into our workstation. Why don’t you complete the technical specifications?”

“Me?” Terfin’s strata grated.

Gifter moved away from their shared computer terminal. “Yes, you. You’re fully trained.”

“Barely in liquids, by the thickness of a ometerlid. I don’t remember a thing from my Manufacturing modules. And I’m coming in late on another of your inventions.” Terfin teetered side to side. “What will you be doing?”

“I’m going out.”

“Again? You just got here.” Terfin padded to the exit, blocking Gifter’s departure.

“A privilege of performance. Sebby lets me come and go as I please, as long as I return with great ideas.”

Terfin sighed at the thought of being left behind, alone. “We’re lab partners, right?”

“Of course. Best team in the village.”

Terfin tilted forward, its voice a whine. “Since we’re a team, can I come with you?”

“Sebby wouldn’t concur. Show some initiative. Work on the recycler. It uses liquids, your speciality.” Gifter moved to the right. Terfin mirrored Gifter’s movement. “Maybe Sebby will erase that negative notation if you take the lead. This could be the project that restores your confidence.”

“Where are you going?”

“Riding the Movers.” Gifter side-stepped, and Terfin did likewise.

“To any particular village?” Like Manufacturing?

“No, just riding. It’s quality time, for me to think in solitude.”

Terfin tilted left, anticipating Gifter’s next movement. “The Movers are always crowded. And what if they break down –“

“Other passengers don’t bother me. I give them their private space and they do likewise.” Gifter feigned a step to the right. When Terfin padded in that direction, Gifter moved forward, putting itself in the doorway. “And if the Movers slow down or stall, that just gives me more time to think.”

“Let me come along.” Terfin pivoted. “You can teach me how to invent.”

Gifter turned to face its colleague. “No offense, but if you’re with me, you’ll want to chat. I need to get away from distractions.”

“Good to know that I’m a distraction.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Dual shadows spread from Gifter’s body.

“And you never stop anywhere? I mean, to spend time at another village?”

“Sometimes, if I see something interesting.”

Like a particular Frob in Manufacturing!

Gifter’s temperature rose, indicating anxiety, perhaps a lie.

Terfin padded towards its teammate in the doorway. “You’re going to see Fetex, aren’t you?”

“Probably.” Gifter paused. “Yes. Why do you ask?”

Terfin plopped down with a thud and a puff of dust. “Seems like you’re planning on spending a lot of time with that Frob.”

“Fetex is my associate for the shield project. The Central Council has demanded quick, effective solutions, for our defense. I can make that happen with Fetex and Manufacturing. Do you dispute my logic?”

Terfin surveyed the wall of wearable tools. “No, I guess not.”

“Besides, I think I’m going to ask Sebby to assign the Manufacturing village to us, as a client for our research.

Client? A formal association? Now it was Terfin whose temperature rose. “You’re going to perform gemsha and come back carrying, aren’t you?”

Gifter shot forward, striking Terfin’s prone body. “Don’t be absurd! I haven’t decided on gemsha, one way or the other. Besides, carrying is a fifty-fifty possibility. Fetex is providing valuable colleague input. Are we done? Can I go now?”

“I’m not your supervisor.” Terfin started back towards their workstation, its voice a faint whistle. “Just your partner.”

“There are plenty of projects for you to work on while I’m gone.”

Terfin turned around completely, its voice sharp. “That’s for sure. Every time you come back from one of your thinking trips, you’ve got a list of new possibilities.”

Gifter moved closer to Terfin, away from the threshold. “See? These excursions work!”

“Then Sebby gets excited about your ideas and assigns them, mostly to us.” Terfin pointed at their computer terminal.

“I prefer to work on ideas I’ve originated.”

“So do I!” Not that I get the chance.

“Then come up with an original idea and –“

Like the last time? “Sebby will never approve one of mine, and unauthorized projects are illegal.” Terfin moved forward. Sunlight streaming through slotted windows painted stripes across Terfin’s torso. “Review the Official History rules if you don’t believe me.”

“Then take something else we’ve started and move it to the next stage.” Gifter retreated to the exit. “If the technical specifications aren’t done when I get back, I’ll finish them. We don’t want to disappoint Sebby, or the Central Council.” Gifter padded out, disappearing in the glare.

Terfin popped open the bottom drawer and fussed with the contents - spare gears for the wearable tools, bits of ore from previous assignments, a small vial of moogly, a section of Mover tread, and a few items it couldn’t identify. At the back, Terfin located a small copper-colored box with a single cable sticking out. “I should finish this and show them all.” Terfin sat, thinking about Gifter, gemsha and Fetex. It let out a plaintive, low-pitched whistle.

Chapter Six [on Frobzb] - Out Of Order

 

Terfin arrived at the research facility at first light, ahead of its colleagues. That meant traveling on the Movers in the dark, a dubious practice at best. One misstep and Terfin could have fallen off and cracked open, or landed upside down in an adjacent gulch.

Unscathed, Terfin crept into the laboratory. The silence bolstered Terfin’s confidence. A light tap on the control opened the bottom drawer at Terfin’s workstation, which held a small copper-colored metal container. A single cable dangled off the lid.

Finishing this sparkle box will prove to Gifter I’m a better gemsha partner than Fetex, or any other Frob, for that matter, thought Terfin.

Donning a combination grabber and sucker tool, Terfin examined the level of the shiny shards and fragments of gemstones in the container. Gack! The reservoir is just short of full. Terfin squeezed as hard as it could, trying to force an expectoration. Guttural sounds rasped from its pucker, but with no success.

“What are you doing?” asked Gifter.

Terfin wheeled a one-eighty. If Gifter was at work, surely every other researcher was as well. Terfin snatched the box and slid it into the drawer. “Nothing.” With the swing of the tool’s grabbing arm, the drawer slammed shut. “Nothing at all.”

“It’s almost reporting time.” Gifter bumped against the metal shell Terfin was wearing. “You’re not going tooled up again, are you?”

“There are no rules against it.” Terfin pivoted towards the center of the room and moved forward. “Besides, it’s easier to face Sebby with two layers of metal between us.”

“Sebby is the kind of supervisor who can sense you right through that shell. But the point is moot. The line is forming, and we can’t be late.”

Terfin rolled across the stone floor up to its position. Gifter padded along, taking a place beside its laboratory partner. Sebby made its way down the line inside of its usual recording tool.

When Sebby reached them, Gifter announced, “Terfin started assembly of our converter prototype before any of us arrived.”

Terfin swung the grabber arm in Gifter’s direction. The metal strut careened off with a hollow thump. “I did?”

Sebby captured Gifter’s report. “Good job. There may be hope – " Sputtering sounds replaced well-chosen whistles from within Sebby’s recording tool. The device began to vibrate, thumping against the floor, raising dust.

“It’s choking!” one researcher shouted.

“Get Sebby out of there!” another demanded.

Terfin froze. Several scientists waddled to the outer wall to step into tools.

“You’re tooled up. Help it!” Gifter urged Terfin.

Terfin rolled towards Sebby’s recoiling machine. With the grabbing arm, Terfin released the exterior latch. The pop-top sprung up. Sebby’s torso thrashed inside.

“Pull it out!” shrieked researchers who’d formed a loose circle around their supervisor. “Pull it out!”

Sebby and the metal shell bounced around. Terfin reached and grabbed, missing the elusive target. Sebby flailed back and forth. The pop-top broke loose, bouncing off Terfin’s metal enclosure and striking Gifter. Again and again, Terfin jabbed the grabber forward and closed the clamps, grasping air.

Finally, there was resistance between the clamp fingers. “Got it!” Terfin pulled its supervisor from the enclosure. Sebby recoiled against the stone floor, then halted.

“It’s not breathing.” Gifter’s tone was a high-pitched yelp. “Hit it!”

Terfin tapped Sebby’s body with no effect.

“Again!”

Terfin pulled the arm back ninety degrees and brought it down on the writhing Sebby. No change.

Gifter’s whistle was a battlecry. “Harder!”

Terfin swung the grabbing arm a full three-sixty degrees, shifted its weight, and brought the arm down full force. The arm bounced back, spinning Terfin around. Sebby croaked, sputtered, and then coughed.

“Are you okay?” Gifter asked.

Sebby slowly pulled its collapsed pads up under its torso. “Fine, I think.” Sebby crawled back a few steps, exposing an intact yellow-green gemstone in a pile of multicolored fragments. “Perhaps we should have someone tooled up at all times, in case of emergency.”

“I’ll contact information storage to pick up this sample,” said a colleague.

“Don’t bother. I’ll clean that up.” Terfin pointed the suction arm of its tool at the glittery residue. With a whoosh, it disappeared into a side-mount tank.

“Let’s constrain our excitement for the remainder of the day to the inventing kind, shall we?” Sebby crept back to its office, wobbling from side to side.

The researchers, scattered around the facility, some partially encased in tools, whistled agreement.

“Nice work.” Gifter tapped against Terfin’s metal shell.

“All I did was give Sebby a thumping.” Will that give me another bad mark? thought Terfin. “I would have just stood there if you hadn’t said something.”

Gifter stopped. “In all the commotion, I didn’t ask Sebby if our order was approved.” Gifter changed direction, heading for Sebby’s office.

Terfin extended a metal arm to block Gifter’s path. “Maybe you should wait. Sebby was moving pretty slow. Give it some time to recover.”

“Logical and thoughtful. That’s my partner.” Gifter continued towards their work area.

Yeah, right. But not good enough for gemsha!

Terfin stopped at their joint workstation but Gifter padded past. “I have to make a trip out to the Nutritives village, to prepare them in case the Science Council approves our converter.”

“There’s no ‘in case.’ With your name on it, the project will get approved for sure.”

“Want to come along? It’ll get you out of this stuffy lab.” Gifter stood in the threshold, its shadow stretching across the diameter of the laboratory. The shaded half of its torso was mottled tan, the exposed half a rich brown. “You deserve a field trip. Consider it an atta-Frob for saving the boss.”

Terfin thought about the opportunity for quality time alone with Gifter. If Terfin was lucky, the Mover would break down and they would be alone. The intact gem and crystal fragments sliding around in the tank caught the attention of Terfin’s ometer.

“You go ahead. We’ll plan an outing another time. I have something to finish.”

“Oh really?” Gifter crept closer, keeping its voice low. “Some secret project?”

“No, just catch up. Full partner, that’s what you said. All right if I check on that off-Frobzb order? If Sebby approved it, I’ll send it out for fulfillment.”

“Terrific! I won’t be gone long, if the Movers are cooperative.” Gifter paused in the doorway. “By the way, rescuing Sebby? Very impressive.”

When Gifter was gone, Terfin tapped the drawer release with the grabber arm. Carefully, it reversed the control on the sucker and dispensed Sebby’s expectoration into the sparkle box reservoir. Filled precisely to the top. Perfect! Terfin sealed the reservoir and made final adjustments.

“Now to try it out.” Terfin plugged the box’s cable into the auxiliary jack of their computer terminal and tucked the box out of sight under the open drawer. Something small to start. Terfin crawled out of the tool and padded forward into the computer terminal. Adjustable emitters aligned themselves with the ometers on the top surface of Terfin’s body. By drumming on two control surfaces with the tips of its pads, Terfin retrieved Gifter’s off-Frobzb order. Let’s see. The status is approved by Sebby, just like Gifter expected. Terfin packaged the order for electronic delivery and sent it.

Sebby’s voice came from behind. “Where’s Gifter?”

Terfin backed out of the terminal, checking to be sure the sparkle box was still hidden. “It’s headed to Nutritives.”

“Ah yes, the waste converter. Let Gifter know I’ve approved its order. Carry on.” Sebby staggered away.

Terfin checked the sparkle box capacity gauge, which showed that Sebby’s approved order had been copied at the same time it was sent through the emitters. It works! Wait until I tell Gifter!

An incoming message triggered a beep. Terfin reentered the computer terminal and opened the message, addressed to Gifter.

REGARDING REQUISITION #102973@49-82-23: WE REQUIRE THAT ORDERS BE ACCOMPANIED BY COMPLETE ORIGINATING PLANET HISTORIES. THANK YOU FOR YOUR COOPERATION.

Why do the order processors on Erutin need so much background to fulfill an order? They want the Official History? Is that even possible? Terfin had mediocre skills at queries. I guess I could just ask for everything and see what happens.

But a request like that, some Frob will notice. Terfin looked down at the sparkle box. Personal data collections are illegal. How can I consider downloading the entire Official History? I must be losing my mind.

The fluid nature of the Official History’s contents had irritated Terfin ever since it arrived in Research. Some of Terfin’s previous results had been rejected because the material it cited for corroboration no longer substantiated Terfin’s claims. “I’m not crazy. Facts in the Official History changed,” Terfin had pleaded. The allegation had no credibility with Sebby or anyone else. If I had a copy of the Official History, I could prove when it changed.

Terfin peeked in at the shards and flakes of gems that filled the metal box to capacity. Is my sparkle box good enough? That would be quite an accomplishment! And it’s not like this is some frivolous request. Gifter needs these materials to improve the planetary shield. I’ll do it! I’ll make a complete copy of the Official History for myself at the same time I’m retrieving it for this order. Later, if a citation doesn’t match, I’ll have proof that something changed.

And then there was Fetex. Gifter won’t be able to deny that I’ve built something truly special.

Terfin used the computer terminal to ask for the entire contents of the Official History, from the earliest recorded days on the planet. The response was:

THIS REQUEST EXCEEDS PRACTICAL LIMITS. ARE YOU CERTAIN?

“I’ve never been so sure in my whole life.” Terfin selected the affirmative response. Citation after citation, incident by incident, the complete chronicle of Frobzb’s history as a planet was sent through the emitters. The data dump was too fast for Terfin to comprehend anything. The onslaught made Terfin’s mind spin. “Too much, too fast!” Terfin closed its ometerlids.

“Anybody else experiencing slow response times?” came a whistle from another workstation.

“Yeah. Simple queries are taking forever,” an anonymous whistle confirmed.

Terfin wiggled a rear pad, waiting for the download to complete. It opened its ometerlids just a crack. Centuries of history cascaded past Terfin’s ometers.

The whistle came from behind. “How’s your response time?”

Terfin backed out of the terminal. Sebby stood, waiting for an answer.

Terfin positioned itself in front of the computer terminal cowling. “Not bad. Maybe a little slow. Why?”

“Some of your colleagues are having difficulty. I thought that Gifter might have left some large query running that –“

“Hey, it cleared up,” came a relieved whistle.

“Yeah, back to normal. Must have been a facilities glitch.”

Sebby leaned side to side, but Terfin matched its movements. “Oh well. Never mind.” Sebby padded a few steps away, then turned around. “I’m perfectly willing to give you another chance. Bring your productivity back up, and I’ll do whatever it takes to erase that last negative notation.” Sebby departed.

Terfin sighed and plopped down, splaying its pads to the sides. That was close! Terfin made sure the coast was clear, then checked the capacity gauge on the sparkle box. There’s still a bit of empty space. Not bad efficiency, for a first try.

Terfin used the terminal to resend the order, this time with the Official History attached. If Gifter has to get more off-Frobzb materials from Erutin, I’m ready for them. Terfin tooled up to disconnect the sparkle box and put it away. I hope they don’t have to review our entire history before they ship, or Gifter will never get the raw materials it needs.

Chapter Seven [on Erutin] - You Reeka

 

Mangik stood at its data terminal all day, poring over recent orders, searching for any from the Crescent galaxy. Research passed down over the centuries had reduced the search area for the Mern’s planet of origin from the entire known universe to a single region of space that was billions of light years wide.

A Mernex crept into the data center. “Excuse me?”

“Yes? What do you want? Are you the metallurgist?” Mangik reached toward where the disk had been. What am I thinking? Gnuoy took it.

“No, I’m a data clerk. Ritewy said you were one short –"

“Fine, take that empty seat.” Mangik pointed at the empty position near the three idle clerks. “Perhaps now we can process some orders and build up the Erutin treasury, hmm? Where was I?” Mangik scanned back to the top of the recent orders list for the second time.

The complete team of clerks collaborated in reviewing inbound orders. Floor to ceiling metallic data vats storing data in liquid form lined the walls. The top-connected input and bottom-connected output pipes gurgled as the orders were received, classified and forwarded for fulfillment.

Mangik’s most useful innovation upon arriving at Erutin was a system where data was transmitted and stored as liquid. The electrical systems first installed by the Mernex for information management had the unfortunate side effect of generating radiation that killed Erutinites. After abundant apologies by the Grand Titan for not disclosing their vulnerability, Mangik had directed the Erutinites to dig tunnels, connecting industrial venues to new liquid information processing centers. The technique allowed data to flow smoothly, but required teams of Mernex using sophisticated scanning devices to decode the liquefied information. As a significant benefit, Mernex employment remained consistently high.

Mangik mumbled to itself as it examined an order attachment. The first one was brief, so Mangik read it directly.

“Hmmm. Inhabitants of Nortcel-3 are threads of electrical particles and inhabit charged cloud masses that float above the surface. To rejuvenate, they ride lightning bolts down to black conducting splotches on the surface." Much too weird to be our ancestors. With a tap, the attachment was deleted, dispatching the order for fulfillment.

The next one was too large to read quickly. “Ah, finally. An order attachment with some substance!” Mangik initiated its precisely constructed analysis program, to determine if the supplied information correlated to The Six Myths of the planet of origin.

In past rare occasions when an order had a robust planet history, Mangik had found manual review of bulk data too labor intensive. The automated procedure prevented Erutin customer complaints that their orders for in-stock materials were inexplicably delayed.

A report appeared on Mangik’s viewport. “Planet Nivek has two matches. Crystalline inhabitants vibrate to generate Ephemeral-blessed sounds. What’s this? A liquid-covered world?” Mangik swallowed hard. “We couldn’t have evolved that much!" What good is a planet of origin where we’d drown?

An echoing splash and wobble of one of the vats announced the arrival of something huge.

The newcomer’s sound was faint. “Uh, supervisor?”

“The name’s Mangik.” It raised its torso from the viewport. “We’re casual here. What is it now?”

“We just received something unusual. I don’t know what to make of it.”

“Didn’t you complete your training? Never mind, I’ll look at it. Give me a moment.” Mangik made rapidfire strokes of the keys. The oversized order was added as the last one on Mangik’s list. “Go on to the next one.”

“I can’t. This one is so large, nothing else can get through.”

“We’ve gotten big orders before and processed them without issue.” Mangik buried its sensors in the viewport, continuing to scrutinize each order, in sequence. “Every order I’ve reviewed so far contains little or no background information. They’re useless!”

“Are you speaking to us?” the newcomer asked.

“What?” Mangik pushed back from the terminal, bumping into a curved guardrail behind. “Huh? No, just thinking out loud. Catch up with those orders!”

The four clerks sat idle.

Gnuoy skipped into the Data Center, body leaning forward at forty-five degree angle. Mangik’s master data console shook when Gnuoy collided into it. “Success!”

Mangik turned to the trainee. “I have an oversized order your replacement can’t handle that’s blocking normal flow. I’ve lost my place in this order list. Again! Now you’re back. Can anything else go wrong?”

“I decoded the disk.” Gnuoy’s body expanded and contracted.

Mangik returned to the viewport. Gnuoy has come a long way, but even I couldn’t have handled the Grand Titan’s disk so quickly. Ritewy was correct. One of us will have to redo the work. “Fine. I’ll verify your results. Where did you file them?”

“In my private account, the globule is named Urrrrrrrrt.” Mangik’s workstation vibrated as Gnuoy bounced against it. “Check it now! Come on.”

“In a moment. I’ve got a backlog to care for.” Mangik found nothing of interest in the next three orders. “Too bad customers don’t listen. We asked them for complete planet histories.”

“The standard order response was strong, wasn’t it? Instead of asking for planet histories, I practically demanded them.” Gnuoy tapped one pad, swinging the Grand Titan’s disk on a fingette. “Listen, I –“

“Right! You were quite precise.” Mangik dispatched another two orders after finding nothing worthwhile for its quest.

“Thank you, but –“

“So what do customers send me? Synopsis after synopsis. How am I going to find our planet of origin if they don’t give me details?” Mangik focused on the newly-received oversized order. It was from Frobzb. Wasn’t that in the Crescent?

“I’ve got details. Plenty of details,” said Gnuoy. “From the Grand Titan’s disk.”

“Uh huh.” The Frobzb order attachment was humongous! “How interesting!” The requestor followed Gnuoy’s instruction to the letter and attached a complete history! Mangik cross-referenced the requestor with Erutin order activity. They’ve been a periodic customer for raw materials, but they never sent an attachment before. Mangik started the analysis program, and then submitted a request to confirm its hunch. The reply popped up. The Planetary Registry confirms that Frobzb is in the Crescent galaxy and orbits around two suns. That would produce split shadows!

Details spewed from Gnuoy. “Whoever put the disk together made it pretty simple. The pictures and sounds were straight forward once I figured out the correct filters to use –“

Mangik couldn’t wait for the results from the analysis program. Complete planet histories came along so seldom. Mangik flipped through section after section of the voluminous document, pressing harder against the viewport. “Almost as wrapped up in details and documentation as we are.”

“You should see their planet. Multi-colored, like a pretty round rock, cushioned in filmy white stuff. Over half of the surface is liquid. Maybe it’s our home world.” Gnuoy’s mass shifted from side to side as it rocked. “Oh, I hope so. It's so beautiful. Are you looking at them?”

How can I concentrate when Gnuoy is blathering about the content’s of the Grand Titan’s disk? Oh well, can’t turn the youth inside out if it succeeded. “I’ll take a look.” Later. Where was I? Villages are organized by function. Desert planet. Doesn’t sound very inviting. Ore a primary export. Natural pools of something called moogly. Hmm, that sounds like the Black Baths from one of our legends. “Did your originators ever tell you stories about the regenerative powers of the Black Baths?”

Gnuoy scratched at its belly with a pair of fingettes. “Not that I remember. Oh, I almost forgot. The sounds. They’re not as sophisticated as what we make –“

“Yes, sounds.” Mangik dove into more specifics from the Frobzb attachment. “They depend on their natural abilities to make the widest assortment.”

“I’ve put the sounds in a separate globule from the pictures, to keep them straight, just like you taught me.” Gnuoy crooned a gutteral sound, “Urrrrrrrrt.”

Mangik paused in its analysis. “Digestive problem with your powdered nutrients?”

“That’s what they call their planet. Urrrrrrrrt. They are a singular species with several different varieties –“

Who cares? “Quiet!” The analysis program finally generated its report. A perfect score, Frobzb scores six out of six! Out of thousands of planets, none had ever achieved a perfect score. Frobzb must be the place. Mangik requested a search for any mention of migrations. After all, a planet like Frobzb that kept track of trivial events like eating times for the entire population surely would have documented an exodus. There was one such entry. What’s this? A planet-wide civil conflict that occurred eons ago, resulting in the forced expulsion of nearly half the population. Bless the Ephemeral, we were thrown out? Mangik pulled back and slumped, an oval indentation surrounding its viewing sensors. Oh my! I never expected this!

Gnuoy moved closer. “What’s wrong? You look ill. Are you preparing for a notalhuvo? Was it something I did?”

This is dreadful! How can the Mern return to Frobzb if we were thrown out?

“Did I make a mistake? Please, give me another chance.” Gnuoy’s voice was high-pitched, the sounds elongated. “P-l-e-a-s-e.”

Could it have been a mistake? The history contained no details of that event. What could we have done that was intolerable and forced our exile? Mangik straightened, fingettes poised. “You did better than fine.” It was Gnuoy’s strongly worded request that got the vital Frobzb history. Six for six. In a voice calm and monotone, Mangik told Gnuoy, “The Mern have you to thank for identifying our planet of origin. Well done!”

“I did?” Gnuoy stared at the blank stone wall behind Mangik.

“Yes, I’m certain!” Mangik took a deep breath, and strained to expel it. “Oh, Great Ephemeral!” Learning of the expulsion had dissipated the joy. “The ancestral home of the Mern, right under our sensors.”

“I did it!” Gnuoy danced, alternating from one pad to the other. “We’re going home!”

“Going home?” The newcomer data clerk perked up. “Does that mean early dismissal?”

Mangik leaned over the railing. “No such thing! Get back to work! There are orders to process, or the Grand Titan will mount parts of us on her walls.”

Gnuoy stopped dancing and moved close to Mangik’s data terminal. “And your promise?”

“My promise? Oh yes. Of course. Effective immediately, you are promoted to second-class data entry clerk, with all of the rights and responsibilities, blah, blah, blah. I am a Mern of my word.”

“Wow!” Gnuoy bowed his head. “One thing. Even though I could extract the pictures and the sounds, I couldn’t translate the markings. They must be in some kind of code. I haven’t had any lessons in deciphering.”

Who cares about that useless disk? I’ve found our planet of origin!

The data clerks called out in unison, with four-part harmony. “We’re still waiting for you to clear the blockage.”

“Right! First things first. Gnuoy, expedite the fulfillment of this order. Take your position and I’ll transfer it back to you. Whatever they’ve requested must go out immediately, with the highest priority.” Even if we were evicted, sending them their materials quickly is the least we can do. With a glance, Mangik memorized the geospacial coordinates of Frobzb, the Mern planet of origin. A fingette tap deleted the attachment, and three more deposited the bare order for Gnuoy's access.

The newcomer moved away to let Gnuoy in. “Let me check the delivery manifests. Oops, there aren’t any ships leaving for that region until –"

“Am I not still in charge here?” Mangik thumped its upper pads against its torso. “I don’t require permission to assign the rush category for a priority customer!”

Gnuoy reread the status. “The records don’t indicate this customer doesn’t have any special handling –"

“Well then, change it! From now on, they get immediate response. Faster than immediate if possible!” Mangik considered everything it accumulated performing its research. No one needs this now. Mangik poised one fingette on the delete button and hesitated. Maybe I should retain a copy, just in case. I guess I'm a data aggregator by nature. Mangik started a data extract of the accumulated planet of origin research.

Gnuoy updated the customer record for an individual named Gifter on Frobzb, then returned to Mangik’s terminal. “Done. Should I pack? When are we leaving?”

We can’t pick up and travel to Frobzb. Imagine the chaos. They kicked us out, after all. None of us should go, if we were unwelcome. “This has to be our secret.” Mangik turned the spigot on the closest data vat and filled a transparent cylinder with its planet of origin research, viscous yellow and silver sludge. Now I have the only copy. “I know you’re excited. So am I. But until the time is right, you can’t tell anyone!”

“If you say so.” Gnuoy slumped, a portion of its upper mass settling to its bottom half. “But what about decoding the markings?”

Ritewy strutted in. “I was monitoring the real-time statistics for order processing. They’ve come to a complete halt. What’s going on?” Ritewy’s head swiveled, first to Mangik, then to Gnuoy. “Did Gnuoy have something to do with this?”

The four clerks sang out in unison, “We didn’t do anything wrong.”

Mangik spoke softly. “There was an oversized order, but it has been cleared. Everything is back to normal.”

“Don’t be coy. Mangik’s got great news.” Gnuoy moved towards Ritewy and resumed its dance. “You’ll be so surprised –“

Mangik stepped between them.

Until I figure out what happened on Frobzb, Ritewy can’t know the truth. “Gnuoy did a marvelous job of decoding the Grand Titan’s disk. I’ve promoted him effective immediately. The disk contains some potentially useful information, after all. You were right and I was wrong.”

“First time you’ve ever said that.” Ritewy puffed up. “What caused the blockage? Oh, I remember. You, asking for planet histories! That’s what happens when your fantasies get in the way of work.”

Frobzb scored six for six. “Hardly a fantasy!” said Mangik. “More like our destiny.”

“Keep it up,” said Ritewy, “and the Erutinites will expel us for incompetence as opposed to stinking up their planet.”

“We’re not stinky!” the clerk chorus replied.

“Don’t you know what’s important?” asked Ritewy.

“Of course I do.” Gathering all Mernex on Frobzb and integrating with our ancestors before the Nzorglq wipe us out, one cluster at a time. Mangik paced from its terminal to the cluster of four data clerks, back and forth. “I have to pack. Just a brief junket.”

Ritewy backpeddled two steps. “Where are you going? You’ve never left before. None of us have.”

After eons, whatever caused our expulsion must have been long forgotten. I need to go there and find out why, make amends, whatever. If Gnuoy can decode the Grand Titan’s disk, then I can lead the Mern back home. No one ever said fulfilling one’s destiny was easy. An envoy must go, to pave the way for immigration and reunification. That is my duty. “I’m turning operations over to you. Consider making Gnuoy your second in command while I’m gone.” If I disclose the truth, Ritewy will argue and fuss until I agree not to go. “I just need to wrap up a few loose ends.”

Ritewy leaned close, its voice barely audible. “It’s an Nzorglq invasion, isn’t it? Leaving us behind while you save yourself –”

“Nothing of the sort. I'll be back before you know it.” Mangik placed the data cylinder into a sling sack. “Things will be fine with you in charge. I'll care for the details of Gnuoy’s promotion when I return.”

“Why won’t you give me a straight answer?” Ritewy stretched tall, raising its voice. “What’s going on?”

Gnuoy peeked out from behind Mangik. “I couldn’t decode the markings –"

An excuse for my trip! “That’s it. Yes. Precisely.” Mangik snatched the disk away from Gnuoy. “There’s heavily encrypted information on the Grand Titan’s disk, that’s all.”

“This doesn’t make sense. What service do you need that we can’t send for? The Grand Titan herself will pick up the cost.” Ritewy spread its upper pads wide. “You’re her favorite.”

Mangik bent and flexed a dozen fingettes on the front of its torso. “I’m going to take the Grand Titan’s disk to, ah, Bletch, to have an encryption specialist look at it. The Blechers can break ciphers easily. They broke the Nzorgliq code and saved nearly three planets, if I remember correctly.” Mangik paced between Gnuoy and Ritewy. “But they have a firm policy against remote consultations. If I want to finish Gnuoy’s work, I’ll have to take the disk to them.”

Gnuoy stopped Mangik by extending an upper pad. “They don’t have to do the whole thing, just the markings. I decoded most of it already.”

“Fine. I'll consult a Bletcher specialist only about the markings.”

Ritewy ambled away, approaching the four data clerks. “Get to it! There are orders waiting.”

“So much for going home early.” The newcomer and three colleagues leaned into their terminals.

“Who said anything about going home?” Ritewy looked around. “Did you tell these clerks they could go home? It’s early in their shift.”

“Certainly not.” Mangik muttered as it assembled its things. “Going home.”

“Shouldn’t you take my results?” Gnuoy was hovering so close that Mangik couldn’t move without bumping into it. “As a reference point? Maybe the markings have something to do with the pictures and sounds.”

“How silly of me! Absolutely!” Mangik returned to its terminal and perused the Urrrrrrrrt content Gnuoy had decoded. Hmm, nice job. Mangik initiated a second extract, this time of Gnuoy’s results. “I'll be back soon.”

Gnuoy was swaying, lower pads firmly planted. “What do I do in the meantime?”

“Write up your findings about the Grand Titan’s disk, as complete as you can. She’s expecting a report. Ritewy can let Her Grandness know. She'll be pleased to learn it wasn’t empty –"

“And that the Bletchers will finish the job, right?” Gnuoy remained close to its mentor. “Do you really have to go?”

Mangik glanced left and right for an empty container. “Seems like I’m out of data cylinders. Do you have something that would hold your results?”

“I’ve got a tube of nutritional supplement –

“Fine. Give it to me.”

Gnuoy opened the double-walled translucent cylinder and placed it against the access dimple in the middle of its belly. With one elongated suck, the powder formed a vortex and swirled into Gnuoy’s body. Gnuoy handed the dusty tube to Mangik.

Mangik held the meal cylinder upside down between its upper pads, and drummed it with a dozen fingettes to remove residual material. Then Mangik held the cylinder under the proper spigot and drained Gnuoy’s disk extract results into it. “She might even want to discuss your findings with you, in person.” Mangik placed the second cylinder in the sling, along with the first one, the Grand Titan’s disk and the reading device.

“Me? An audience?” Gnuoy waved its upper pads back and forth. A dusty puff of air escaped from Gnuoy’s belly. “No. No way.”

Ritewy sauntered back from the data clerk cluster. “Better you than me. Those icky stickies give me the creeps.”

“Watch your language when you refer to the Erutinites! They’re our hosts.” Mangik approached Gnuoy and spoke in monotone with a paced rhythm. “An audience is nothing to be concerned about. Just don't make any sudden movements and the guards won't shoot at you. And for The Ephemeral’s sake, if a notalhuvo creeps up on you, hold it. Hold it as hard as you can. I'd hate to come back only to find that an indiscretion got every last Mern booted off this place. At least, not until I can arrange for – oh, never mind.”

“I’d better go prepare a procedure for preventing oversized orders from interrupting flow again.” Ritewy stood directly in front of Mangik. “You’re not going to do anything stupid, are you?”

Traveling to our planet of origin is not stupid. Mangik shook its upper torso. “Why would you say that?”

“Because of that insane fixation you have.” Ritewy strode to the exit. “We need to talk when you get back. Assuming the Erutinites let you leave.”

Mangik had never considered that possibility. “Do you think we’re prisoners?”

Ritewy shrugged and exited.

Mangik opened a drawer and caressed a small, personal information container. Someone needs to care for this in my absence. Ritewy? No. Mangik turned to Gnuoy. It did decode the Grand Titan’s disk. Mangik’s voice was a whisper. “One more thing before I go.” Mangik opened its folded pad to reveal the tiny clear vial of sparkling liquid. “I want you to take care of this for me.”

“Pretty. What is it?”

Mangik’s tone was slow and deliberate. “The Master Mernex Directory.”

“Ooooh! The Master Mernex Directory.” Gnuoy paused. “What’s a Master Mernex Directory?”

Mangik leaned towards Gnuoy, bodies almost touching. “I’ve been maintaining a ledger of all of our species, where they immigrate and where they emigrate. What planet they’re on, how many are there, a primary contact name, all of the relevant details.”

“Wow!”

“It was handed down to me from my mentor, and from his mentor before that, ever since we left Mern. I could contact, oh, approximately 99.875% of our species, if I needed or wanted to.”

“Wow!”

“I’m trusting you to maintain the Directory while I’m gone. Occasionally, I get an update posted in my message box, when a group of our fellow exiles change location. Use my communications account and security identifier to keep the ledger current. It’s especially important now.”

Gnuoy’s body undulated forward and back. “Does this new responsibility warrant another promotion?”

“Don’t be greedy. I haven’t even completed the process for the last one.”

Gnuoy came to attention. “I won’t let you down.”

“If, for some reason I don’t return –“

“But you’ll come back. You’re only going to Bletch.”

“Yes, of course. I said ‘if.’ Good to be prepared, that’s all.” Mangik leaned even closer. “You must pass the Directory along to a responsible Mern when you get older, so it is always maintained.” Mangik held out the glittering glass tube.

Gnuoy extended an upper pad. “I’ll take good care of it.” The vial slid off Gnuoy’s left upper pad, bounced off the right one, pinballed among Gnuoy’s fingettes, and finally somersaulted towards the ground.

Mangik snatched it with a lower pad just before it smashed. “How about if I upload a copy to your private space?”

“Good idea.”

A Mernex who Mangik didn't know crept into the room. “You were looking for someone to help identify the composition of an object?”

The materials expert! “You must be Ritewy’s acquaintance from the Materials sector,” said Mangik.

“Yes, I’m …” the expert started.

“No name is required, just your expertise.” Mangik dug into its sling for the disk. “Please examine this and tell me, how would you classify it?”

The expert took out a portable scanner. “Do you mind?”

“No, of course not.”

The expert passed the disk under the reader, then rubbed fingettes against the shiny surface.

“Hmmmm. This material does not match anything in the Erutin catalog, or anything else I’ve ever seen.” The expert turned the disk over, again and again. “Where did you get it?”

“From the Grand Titan.”

The expert dropped the disk as if it had become too hot to hold. With a muted clank, one edge of the disk was dented. Small flakes of the shiny coating lay on the floor as evidence of the impact.

Mangik retrieved the disk from the ground. “Did that scanner of yours tell you anything else?”

“I would need to perform spectral and density tests, at a minimum, to determine anything more. However, it is clearly reflective, probably of both light and heat.” The expert backed away, bent at the middle. “I apologize for being so clumsy,”

Mangik looked over at Gnuoy. “Don’t worry. I’m used to it.”

Chapter Eight [on Erutin] - Home Run

 

I barely remember the shipyard from our arrival, thought Mangik as the airlock doors slid open.

The metal enclosure was immense; large enough to hold one hundred times the number of ships the Mernex arrived in. They’ve expanded it. Mangik heard a faint metal on metal tapping coming from the distance.

“Is anybody here?” Mangik’s shout faded across the vast barn.

An Erutinite half as tall as Gnuoy on a hovering platform accelerated towards Mangik’s position.

Anti-gravity technology? I haven’t seen any of that on Erutin before.

Rusty metal tools on tethers clanked, and hoses connected to metal cylinders thumped against the floating platform when it halted in mid-air. The Erutinite rested its claws on its thorax. “What in the cosmos are you?”

“My name is Mangik.” Mangik stepped forward, a sling draped across its torso. “I’m the Grand Titan’s master –“

“Keep your distance.” The flying Erutinite snatched a nozzle and pointed it like a weapon. “Don’t care who.” A drop of oil hung from the tip of the nozzle, plummeted and then splashed at Mangik’s lower pads. “Heard about your kind, just never seen one is all. What are all them larvae hanging off your body? You’re covered with ‘em.”

“These aren’t larvae. We call them fingettes.” Mangik bent and flexed them in sequence, from top to bottom. “They make us particularly adept at information processing.”

“So you’re one of them alien bureaucrats?”

“No. I’m a master data specialist. I report directly to the Grand –“

“Ain’t auditory challenged.” The Erutinite sampled the air. “You smell like a bureaucrat. Probably the one who sent that dang thing.” He waved the nozzle towards a corner of the hanger.

“What?” Mangik turned the top of its torso and stretched tall. “That’s a standard information entry device.”

“Tried it once. Won’t use it.” The platform swung side to side. “No use askin’. Sorry, gotta’ get back to my ships.”

“Wait!” Mangik undulated up and down without either of its lower pads leaving the ground, then advanced. “What does that have to do with –“

The floating platform jerked in reverse. “’Said keep back. I heard what you done. Poor, stupid diplomat. Should of known better than to trust a bunch of finger-covered aliens -”

“Fingettes.” This guy is upset with our species about the accident during our initial encounter. “If you want an apology, I’ll give you one. It was an unfortunate mistake –“

“Don’t bother me none. One bureaucrat more or less. What really bugs me, why is it always female leaders, anyway? Just ‘cause they lay the eggs, I suppose.”

“Laying eggs? Sounds pretty efficient. A lot less messy than other kinds of procreation I’ve come across.” Mangik stole a glance at the distant machine. “Isn’t it inconvenient, having your data entry device all the way over in the corner? I can have it moved closer -“

“Gotcha! Knew it was you, or one of your kind what sent it. Useless piece of junk taking up valuable hangar space.”

“I can have someone come out here and train you –“

”Ain’t a matter of learnin’. I’m edumacated. It’s all them buttons, dozens of ‘em! Even laid on my back, and I don’t do that casual. With only six legs, I was no match. Looked like a fool. Nope, without them fing-things, it’s no use.”

Mangik assessed the alien’s physiology. “I’m certain we can adapt the terminals –“

“I bet. Tough skittle. You ain’t getting any of mine.” He swerved the platform ninety degrees.

“I only want one.”

The flying Erutinite moved its jaw as if chewing but didn’t appear to swallow. “Okay. I’ll give you one piece of data. Skee-daddle!” The shipyard caretaker scratched his head. “Reckin’ that’s two pieces.”

“Information? I just want a ship.” With all the spacecraft we arrived in, why is this so difficult? Good thing I forged a requisition.

“A ship. Do tell!” The Erutinite slung the hose over his shoulder. “That’s what everybody comes here for, looking for a way off this place. Betcha you’re in some dang hurry too, right?”

Images of Frobzb, from the details in the order attachment, and the possibility of reuniting with its brethren cascaded through Mangik’s imagination. “Yes, my trip is –“

“Very important. Just like everybody that come before ya’.”

I’m getting nowhere quickly. “Can I speak with your supervisor?”

“Ain’t no supervisor. Just me. Guess that puts me in charge. Gee, with all your data, you didn’t know I was the boss?” The Erutinite waved one arm in a broad gesture. “Ought to get me one of them official-lookin’ signs with big letters.”

“Listen, I’d love to stand here and chat with you about, well, whatever, but –“

“But you’re in a hurry. I know.” The Erutinite paced back and forth, tilting the floating platform. “Rush, rush, rush. Everybody going everywhere but no one taking care of down here.”

Mangik pointed fingettes at the roadblock to its mission. “Whatever your name is, I’ll have you know –“

“Doddis.”

“Master Doddis, the Mern who’ve settled here have improved the feeble information processing capabilities on Erutin –“

“Do tell! By making every one of us folk do your dirty work, putting facts into them dang devices of yours. See ‘em all over the Grand Titan’s little piece of Ephemery.” Doddis wiggled his jaws again. “Well, you ain’t getting my data. No skittle. Keep my own records of who comes and who goes. See that, on the wall?”

Mangik turned its attention to an intricate net of glossy filaments strung across the partition. Small metallic markers in various shapes hung off the delicate web.

Doddis aimed the floating platform at Mangik. “And you and your kind, sitting up there in the Grand Titan’s hive? You can wait ‘til an Erutinite wins the system’s Annual Weight Liftin’ Championship!”

How did this become a debate on data ownership? The reunification of my people is at stake. “Fine. Keep your data. Just give me a ship.”

Doddis swung the floating platform around and leaned over. “What’s the matter with my data? Ain’t good enough for you?” Doddis tilted his head, whipping his antennae. “You got a requisition?”

Mangik held up a waxy parchment embossed with a claw mark. This forgery better be good enough to pass. “Yes, right here, authorized by –“

Doddis swooped down and grabbed it from Mangik’s outstretched pad. Metal tools and flexible hoses bounced off Mangik’s torso as the platform accelerated past. “Ain’t visual challenged either.” Doddis glanced at the document. “’Don’t say what kind of ship. Default gets you a floater-class.”

“What’s that?”

“We shoot you in the direction of where you’re going. If they’re paying attention, they catch you and bring you in for a nice safe landing.” Doddis hissed, in spurts.

Mangik imagined the ship missing the capture net. “And if they don’t?”

Doddis chuckled, “No charge for the extra distance!”

Mangik swallowed hard.

“More miles means more time collectin’ that precious data of yours.”

Mangik thought about the unofficial purpose and the unscheduled destination. “I’m sorry, but I need a ship I can steer.”

“How come? Says you’re just jauntin’ over to Bletch. They’re good catchers. No worries.”

“I have another stop to make, on the way back.”

Doddis reread the requisition. “That data seems to be missin’. Not like a data bureaucrat to be missing data.” He scanned Mangik, up and down. “You ever pilot a ship before?”

“No, but how hard can it be?”

“All that data, and you still got questions.” Doddis scratched at the side of his thorax with his rear leg. “Maybe you’re collecting the wrong information. Ever think of that?”

“No, I haven’t.” Mangik perused the variety of ships in the hangar. None of the vessels looked familiar. “How about giving me one of the ships we Mern arrived in?”

“You sufferin’ with selective memory? That be dangerous for a data sucker. You Merns give up your rights to them ships upon settlin’.”

Mangik noticed that many of the ships within view had been modified with components from Mernex vessels. We are prisoners! How will we ever get off this planet without our fleet? Perhaps the Frobzbians have large ships for mass transport. “Please, upgrade me to a ship I can navigate.”

“Can’t do it. T'aint many got smart steering. ‘Sides, there’s rules.”

Mangik pointed at the data terminal in the corner. “You aren’t following the rules about data entry.”

“Grand Titan’s rules, since you data suckers got here. That’s true enough.”

“So bend this one. Please.“

“I don’t know.” Doddis leaned back, stretching its bony arms above its head. “Giving a greenie like you a ship what needs a pilot –"

“I won’t be gone long. You must have one that’s available. Look at all of these ships. And in such beautiful condition. I can tell you’ve been working very hard, keeping them maintained.”

“No skittle! Working my dorsal off.” Doddis flew the platform lower, until they were eye to eye. “T'aint right, bendin’ the rules. Sometimes ya gotta excrete a filament in the dirt. You ain’t gettin’ a ship.”

“Even with an official requisition?”

“You mean this?” Doddis waved the woven request, impaled on a pointy tool. “Approved by some deceased monarch? Everybody knows our beloved Velorme had a cleft claw.”

Mangik’s deceit, sneaking into the Grand Chamber and pressing a deceased ruler’s claw into the soft wax, had been discovered. This small cretin is brighter than I expected, but even small cretins have needs. “You seem to have everything under control. No worries, right?”

“You try doin’ my job, just for a day. It’ll spin your head somethin’ fierce – that is a head, right? Since we been doin’ bigger business with all sorts of critters, most of the dang cargo manifests are in foreign script. Can’t d’cifer ‘em. If I had some kind of transliterator –“

An opportunity! “I could bring you a device from Bletch to solve that problem.”

“You could?”

“The Bletchers are quite good at languages, being decoders and all. Why, I bet they have a universal language translator. Think of all the time, effort, and trouble you’d save on every shipment.”

Doddis rubbed its jaw. “A doodad like that would suck the stickiness out of daily doins.” He rose up on his hind legs, glancing left and right. “You’d do that for me?”

“Certainly, but I can’t bring it back unless I go, and I can’t go –"

“Lessen you get a ship.” Doddis scanned his domain, hundreds of spacecraft. “How did a finger-covered blobby thing like you get hive smarts?”

An eerie silence filled the huge hangar.

“Seems, you can’t fix neither of our problems without runnin’ them errands of yours.”

Mangik nodded.

“You seem passable for a bureaucrat, and an alien at that. A ship with simple controls, eh? Let me check my data, senior data specialist.” Doddis flew to the wall and studied the large web with the attached markers.

Mangik tapped one lower pad, thinking Would have been quicker if he’s used the data terminal we gave him.

“I got only one ship meetin’ your specs. She’s a beaut. Practically flies herself. Follow me.” Doddis levitated the platform over and around the parked vehicles as Mangik padded along, keeping the ship steward in view. “See that pointy silver one? I really shouldn’t. It’s scheduled for use by the Grand Titan’s middle three offspring in just two star passes. They’re going to a grub festival, can you believe it? Anyway, you gotta’ be back ‘fore then.”

“Oh yes, certainly.” What will they do, come after me? Space is a large place to search.

“Okay, you got it. Just don’t tell anyone, or everybody will be asking for fancier.”

Mangik held out three fingettes. “You have my word.” Mangik noticed that most ships had flat circular plates mounted on the fronts, and pointed. “Tell me, what’s on the front of that ship over there?”

Doddis swiveled his head. “Thermal barrier.” Doddis floated over to the ship under discussion. “Deflects heat, so they tell me. Never been out there to know for myself.”

“Are they necessary?” Mangik fingered the Grand Titan’s platter in its sling pouch.

“Heard stories ‘bout passengers burnt to a crisp.” Doddis tapped the circular barrier with a metal spanner. The dull clank dissipated immediately. “Spend a fair amount of time replacin’ ‘em.”

Moisture began to leak from Mangik’s bottom hole. “I need one more favor.”

“What now? I have ta’ use that confounded data device of yours?”

“No. Keep your inventory however you want.” Mangik extracted the metal disk from its sling. “I need you to mount this on the front tip of my ship, I mean, my loaner, as a thermal barrier. I’ll make sure some additional credits appear in your register.”

“Don’t need no bribe to do my job.” Doddis looked at one side of the disk, then flipped it over. “Ain’t no brackets on it. Any special way you want me to attach it?”

“Use your best judgment.”

“Looks pretty. Don’t think I’ll be able to mount it without hurtin’ it some. You don’t mind?”

“You can even drill holes in it, if you need to. Just make sure it doesn’t fall off.”

“Fair enough.” Doddis used the flying platform to push a ramp into place. “Why don’t you get aboard and comfy while I get this thing afixed.” Doddis plucked a drill from the array of tools mounted to the platform.

Mangik plodded up the ramp to the entrance of the ship, reaching eye level with Doddis at the halfway point. “By the way, that’s a pretty nice anti-gravity platform you’ve got there. How does it work?”

“Ain’t got a skittle of a clue. Traded one of them Yubllez critters for it when they were here visitin’ Her Grand Eggness. Sure helps me get ‘round.”

That must have been when they delivered the disk to her. Mangik stroked the sling, feeling the remaining two data cylinders. Right, Doddis has the disk now.

Doddis continued, “You just get this ship back here on time and in one piece. Ephemeral forbid the Grand Titan’s offspring don’t get to snarf down fresh grubs.”

Chapter Nine [on Frobzb] - Catch As Catch Can

 

In the project office at the Structures Manufacturing village, Lolux paced back and forth. Every opportunity to converse with an alien, any alien, fed Lolux’s desire to visit distant worlds. “Is the language translator operational yet?” Lolux had had informal communication with alien species before, but responsibility for a Trager Golup-authorized interspecies dialog was formal and risky. How does one avoid alienating the other party?

“Just about there.” A technical assistant visiting from the Infrastructure village attached the dented sphere to the office’s power cables.

“That device is in pretty bad shape.” Lolux padded around to see the sphere from all sides. “Those cheap Yubllez must have sent us a reconditioned unit.”

“No, this was our fault,” said the tech. “Power dropped just as our Catcher was moving to intercept their falling crate. The crate bounced once before the Catcher moved under it.”

Great first impression! We look incompetent at receiving shipped goods.

Static, crackling noises came through perforations in the sphere. “Gree.” “Greti.”

“Hello?” The tech smacked the sphere with a variable spanner. “Something’s coming through.”

The audible message was broken into chunks. “Greetings to - all sentient beings - on Frobzb - from our leader, the Exalted – Chief Merchant of Yubll. My name - is Cor’chyn, Regional - Provisioning Representative - to the Crescent cluster. What is the unique – identity of the sentient life - form with which I – am conversing?”

The tech whispered, “Translator must work on phrases at a time. Speak slowly.”

“I’m Lolux, a member of the Structures Manufacturing village.” No need to disclose the Trager Golup to this salesman. “I’m responding to your previous contact with our Central Council.”

“Are you of – sufficiently-high authority to – enter into commercial – transactions?”

The Trager Golup runs the planet, and I’m a member. “Yes.”

“I recently acquired - the rights to this sector, and - am formally contacting all sentient - species, to introduce - myself and a broad - array of products and services. I am sure that, within the unlimited - boundaries of my - repertoire, there are impressive products and – services you must - require that I can supply.”

Besides the chunkiness, the Yubllez voice was fuzzy, interlaced with interference.

“I’m sorry for the transmission quality,” said Lolux, “but your translation device suffered some damage.”

“I watched your - primitive moving net almost - catch our gift. If landing is - not permitted, you - should be using a - more modern and reliable inbound - goods capture device. I have a grappling - ray designed specifically - for that purpose –“

It may have not been polite, but Lolux interrupted, to set the salesman’s expectations. “I’m not sure we could afford such an expensive system.”

“Perhaps these - translations are not conveying - my true intentions. I want Frobzb - to become a regular customer. The products you purchase must - arrive in good condition, to retain you. Unless you are unlike - any of my current customers, you will - not accept damaged goods - that have been caught on - one bounce.”

Probably true. “So?”

“I will give Frobzb the - grappling ray system, at no cost.”

What kind of merchants are these Yubllez, giving machines away? “Free?”

“Yes, because it enables - me to begin providing - you undamaged products.”

“That’s quite generous.” Maybe these Yubllez aren’t so bad after all.

“Then, Frobzb will become a – high volume customer, purchasing - many products and services.”

Not much chance of that. “Can we use the grappling ray for other things?”

“Yes, you can even use it to - receive goods from other suppliers, - although I would prefer you give me - opportunities to make competitive bids - in those circumstances.”

“Sounds fair.” Who said these Yubllez were hard to deal with?

“Please be advised, I do not - warrant the use of the grappling - ray with any products other - than what I supply. The risk is on you.”

“Can’t be much worse than the Catcher.”

“May I land my space - craft to deliver the grappling - ray to you personally? I learn so much - by meeting my customers.”

“Due to standing planetary security concerns, that won’t be possible.”

There was a cold silence before Cor’chyn resumed. “One moment.” Another short silence. “I can deliver the grappling - ray without requiring me - to land on your planet. From my ship, I can guide the ray to your movable net, and it will touch down safely.”

“That’s some advanced technology.”

“Not really. I will be using - my own grappling ray - to deliver yours. However, I have detected - your energy barrier –“

“Yes, our planetary shield. I’ll need to get permission to temporarily interrupt it. Perhaps you’d like to make a few customer visits and come back when I have a decision.”

“So, you are of – sufficiently high authority to – execute transactions, but not – to override security?”

Curious bugger. “That’s right.”

Lolux itched to ask questions about the Representative’s home planet but decided against. I don’t want to be taken advantage of. Best avoid a personal relationship.

“I would be happy - to wait here, while - you decide,” said Cor’chyn. “Frobzb is a very important - new client to me. Take your time. I will be patient.”

“Okay. I’ll contact you on this frequency as soon as I have a decision.”

“Thank you so much.”

 

*

 

Lolux rushed down the twisty passage to the Trager Golup meeting room. The rest of the group minus their leader was already assembled.

“So, what is this urgent matter?” asked Zetzn.

Lolux eased into the moogly pond, backwards. “The Yubllez representative wants to give us an alternative to the Catcher. At no charge!”

“There’s no such thing as free,” cried Zetzn. “It’s a trick.”

Lolux glanced at the empty place at far end of the moogly pond, and then replied. “The ChairFrob deferred to my judgment, by assigning me the task. And I say, let’s accept the gift, even if we never buy a thing from them.”

“Or sell them anything, either!” added Siplok.

The ChairFrob entered. The bickering ceased, replaced by the opening motto and anthem.

The ChairFrob seemed more attentive than at their last meeting. “New business. Lolux, you have something for us?”

“Thank you, ChairFrob. As requested, I spoke to the Yubllez representative.” Lolux explained the free offer. “All we have to do is open the planetary shield in one limited spot, long enough for them to send down the grappling ray.”

“It could be a weapon. You’ll kill us all!” said Siplok.

“Or a swarm of Bzelians!” said Zetzn. “They’ll take samples of us and sell them to our enemies.”

Bzelians were well known as mercenaries, gathering tissue samples of species for a fee. Their miniscule size allowed them to pass undetected through almost any planet’s defenses. Frobzb’s planetary shield had been effective against all species, including Bzelians, as far as any Frob knew.

Siplok continued the speculation. “Perhaps the Yubllez is an Nzorglq in disguise!”

“Nzorglq!” screamed Balast.

“Has all logic evaporated?” asked Lolux. “I’ll demand the Yubllez ship retreat from orbit while the transfer takes place, as far as they can get without losing control. As soon as the device lands but before we open it, we’ll scan to make sure it isn’t dangerous or hiding something.”

“Send the Yubllez packing! We don’t need anything from them or their premiere suppliers,” said Zetzn.

“Did you know we can’t delete their supplier list from our Official History?” asked Dumal. “Seems their download has special permissions, and we’re not authorized to remove it.”

“I’ll ask the Yubllez representative how we can correct that,” said Lolux. “ChairFrob, I formally request that the Shipping and Receiving village be authorized to accept the Yubllez gift of a grappling ray, and perform a series of acceptance tests on it. If the device does what the Yubllez claims, we’ll install it for future commerce.”

“Any discussion?” asked the ChairFrob.

“This whole episode is in direct violation of our charter, and it should be voted down by any rational member,” said Zetzn.

“You’re such an old stick in the moogly. If I was ordering something, I’d want it delivered intact,” replied Takis.

“Enough discussion. Dumal, please call the roll.”

“All in favor of accepting this unproven device from the untrustworthy Yubllez, signify by raising one pad.”

Lolux, Takis and Balast all voted in favor. Slowly, Eeenu joined the expansionist voting block with a raised pad. This was precisely the swing vote that Lolux needed.

“What are you doing?” shouted Zetzn.

“A ceramic interpretation of my favorite lullaby was smashed to bits by that unreliable movable net,” whimpered Eeenu. “I don’t want that to happen again, to any Frob.”

“With four votes, there’s no point in asking for those against,” said Dumal. “The proposal passes.”

Zetzn flicked up a pad anyway, launching a blob of moogly that splattered against the ChairFrob’s horn. “Oops, sorry.”

“Dumal will pass along the order to the Remote Telemetry Subcommittee of the Air Traffic Committee of the Interstellar Relations Division of the Central Council, to authorize opening the shield, briefly, for the stated purpose.” The black sludge oozed down the ChairFrob’s horn. “Lolux, keep this vendor under control. And Dumal, find something to clean me up. Meeting adjourned.”

Chapter Ten [on Erutin] - Strike One

 

Mangik sidestepped from the platform at the top of the ramp into the sleek silver spaceship, noticing a tall metal spire mounted to the top of the vessel. Inside, billowy white padding covered every surface. This makes sense. The Grand Titan wouldn’t want a sudden mid-course correction to shatter her three middle offspring, thought Mangik. Small gaps between cushions were evident in the front surface. Two rows of three seats partitioned the space, front and rear. The seats with stuffed dividers were designed to accommodate Erutinite bulbous behinds. Mangik’s wide bottom spanned the front row of three positions, with the armrests creasing its derriere in two parallel lines.

A panel above Mangik’s head slid back, revealing Doddis, laying on his floating platform, peering down. Doddis extended a spindly arm and pointed to the gaps in the padding. “The handling controls are ‘neath here. Good thing this honey flies herself and you’re not gonna’ hafta touch anything. You’d never get your flappy things –"

Mangik sighed. “Pads. Upper pads.”

“– to work. Not them fingerettes – "

Fingettes!

“– neither.”

Doddis’s nimble three-clawed hands poked into the gaps. A cushion flipped down, exposing etched fissures in the otherwise smooth metal surface and a display. “These here are the primary flight controls. I’ll set ‘em for ya’. Where you goin’ agin?”

“Bletch.”

“All righty, then. I just enter the destination –" Doddis smacked and clicked its jaws as it entered the location by dragging its claws through one crease after another.

Mangik watched closely. My fingettes are thick compared to Doddis’s talons. How am I going to reset the target to Frobzb? Beads of moisture seeped from the top of Mangik’s body.

“Don’t worry ‘bout the temperature.” Doddis tapped on a perforated section of metal. “She’s got automatic climate control.”

“Good. I nearly froze to death on the trip here.” Mangik shivered.

“An’ she got passive restraints, just in case.”

Mangik swallowed hard. “In case of what?”

“You know. Whammmo!” Doddis threw his arms wide, striking the edge of the opening. A shard of Doddis’s arm splintered off and fell to the soft floor. “Gotta’ watch them sudden movements. Listen, if this beauty is good enough to protect the Grand Titan’s littlers, it ought protect you.” He poked a claw into one of the holes on the panel. An overlapping set of clicking noises filled the cabin. “You wanna’ listen to Erutin broadcasts? Radio’s got a auto-cycling multi-spatial tuner that’ll work while you're in range.”

“No thanks. I would like to see the operator’s instructions, though.”

Doddis poked again and the clicking stopped. “Like I said, she’ll fly herself –"

“Humor an off-Erutinite whose life has been dedicated to accumulation of information.”

“All righty.” Doddis poked a pointed finger into another crease, revealing a faceted display beneath another padded section. “Here she is. Self-tutorial, but don’t mess with nothin’. Flight controls are more compilicated than they look.”

“Can I announce myself when I get to Bletch?”

“You ain’t gotta do that. This ship’ll send out an identifier. They’ll bring you in, nice and easy.”

“But if I want to?”

“They’ll be reeaal impressed. ‘This here’s the Grand Titan of Erutin’s official data suckin’ bureaucrat. You all get your data collected so I can suck it up.’ “ Doddis gurgled, jaws open.

“I thought you said I was okay for an alien bureaucrat?”

“Just funnin’ ya, is all. Comm system is automatic, too. These lights will sparkle up when you talk, when you be close enough.”

“Precisely what I needed. Thank you.”

Doddis leaned in and lifted the dashboard padding. The bolsters clicked into position. “So, she’s all fueled up and ready to go. Mechanical arm will lift you out of here, through the roof. When you’re in the clear, I’ll initiate the launch. Be back on time or I don’t know what in the skittle her Grandness will do.”

“Yes, of course. No one wants to make the Grand Titan angry, least of all me.”

Doddis’s platform rose up, as the ceiling panel slid back, sealing Mangik into its cushioned chamber.

Now, how did he set the course? Mangik got up from the three seats and swiped at the pads covering the controls. They puffed and fluffed but didn’t budge. Mangik noticed the shard of bone from Doddis’s arm on the floor. Mangik picked it up by a lower pad, and passed it up its body, fingette by fingette, until it was secure in its upper pad. Mangik leaned against the dashboard and stuck the splinter into the gap. With a pop, the dashboard bolsters dropped down, exposing the craft’s controls and instructions.

Doddis’s voice came over the communications system. “Just sit yourself back and I’ll lift ya’ nice and gentle into the launch bay.”

“Thanks.” Now, to change the destination. Mangik picked at the controls with the splinter, specifying from memory Frobzb's geo-spatial coordinates in the Crescent galaxy. The faceted display explaining the procedure was perfect for an Erutinite’s multi-lens eyes, but a fractured mosaic to Mangik.

On the display, the automated flight system showed the plotted course, a large oval-shaped route curving around Frobzb’s two suns, continuing well past the planet, and then swinging back around to the final destination.

Not very efficient. Completely circuitous, in fact. This is the best their computer can do? Even I could plot a better course. Why can’t we go this way? Mangik scraped against the “manual mode” control and drew a straight line from Erutin, through a gap in between the two Frobzb suns, intersecting with the planet. This will take weeks off my trip.

Doddis’s voice resumed. “All righty, Master Data Alien. Your loaner is cleared for departin’. I’m engaging your thrusters. Auto pilot will take care of the rest. Safe travels.”

The manual mode control flashed brightly, as Mangik was thrown back into the triple seat. The ship wobbled and shook.

Doddis’s voice was a series of sharp, loud clicks. “What did you mess with? Couldn’t keep your fings and flaps off the controls, could ya’? Watch out, you’re gonna’ hit that –“

Doddis’s shouting was drowned out by the squeal of metal against metal. Out the viewport, Mangik got an up-close view of the belly of a huge spacecraft. Mangik leaned forward and poked at the controls with the bone shard. No effect. Mangik’s ship skipped along the underbelly of the large craft, hit some obstruction with a hollow boom, and careened off. The long antenna that had protruded at the top of the ship tapped against Mangik’s viewport, then disappeared.

“Don’t you know that data specialists on their way to their Planet of Origin have the right-of-way, you tub jockeys?” Mangik shouted.

Mangik leaned forward and engaged the autopilotfor the revised course, then settled back into the triple seat, mulling over the introduction it would use when it reached Frobzb. How do you say hello to your historic ancestors, who have no idea you’re coming to make up? A fine mist sprayed from the ceiling.

“What’s this?” Mangik’s sensors began to shut, as its fingettes went limp and its body slumped deeper into the cushioned seats.

Chapter Eleven [on Frobzb] – Making It Up

 

Gifter was so dehydrated it almost missed the exit for the Tools building in the Manufacturing village. The Mover had broken down twice, stranding Gifter and a sparse number of riding companions in the blazing suns for what seemed to be hours. Inside the structure, the high ceilings were a fair tradeoff for the cooler shade. Blasts of hot air from construction machinery puffed from everywhere as Gifter walked a familiar path to the project rooms. Fetex was sure to be walking among them, checking status and making changes.

Solow, the facility manager, blocked Gifter’s path. “You here again?”

“Fetex and I are still working on improving the shield.”

“Why must you work on a Materials Research problem at Manufacturing? That sets a bad precedent. Next, some Frob from Nutrition will take up residence, grinding out dietary powders in the middle of my operation. I run a logical facility. Nothing fancy under my watch and no wild stuff.”

“But we require fast turnaround, for testing. With restrictions on Mover travel between villages, this is the most efficient.”

“Efficient, hmm?” Solow stepped back. “I wouldn’t have implemented Mover restrictions if I was in charge. Well then, get the work done, before the Nzorglq fleet returns and makes slaves of us all or wipes us off the face of Frobzb altogether!”

The thought had never entered Gifter’s mind. Are the Nzorglq preparing for a semicentennial attack? Why else would the Central Council order such a concerted effort? Gifter’s memories of the Nzorglq onslaught were vague. Most vivid was the constant violation of Gifter's personal space by other Frobs, who seemed to take comfort in proximity where they once found revulsion.

“Don’t make a mess or get in the way,” barked Solow as it cleared out of Gifter's way.

Solow’s approval didn’t matter. Where Gifter worked didn’t matter. The shield needed improvement before the merciless Nzorglq overran Frobzb. Those brutes would smash the defenseless Frobs to smithereens and plunder the planet’s ecracs to power their weapons for subsequent invasions of other worlds.

Not here!

“Gifter!” Fetex waddled out of a project room. “I have a surprise for you! Follow me.”

As requested, Gifter trailed Fetex down the hall, made a right turn, and down another long corridor.

“Are we close, because my pads are starting to ache,” said Gifter.

“A clandestine space is better.” Fetex glanced around, probably for Solow. “Don’t you agree?” Fetex turned left into a dimly lit room, no more than half the size of the other project rooms. “Our materials have arrived!”

The metal trunk was finely crafted, with exotic symbols of multi-legged creatures decorating the surface. It towered over Gifter. “It’s not dented.”

“The Catcher worked for once.” Fetex circled the container. “This box is made of extraordinary material.”

Gifter reached out and rubbed one pad against the exterior. “I could spend weeks or months just analyzing the container, let alone the contents.”

“We have other priorities. I’ll fetch the elevation and grabbing tool.” Fetex moved toward a set of wearable tools against the wall. “Ever work with liquids?”

“Never. Clumps and powders, mined from veins and pockets.”

“Neither have I.” Fetex stopped in its tracks. “Only use what I’m supplied.” Fetex moved back, closer to Gifter.

“We’ll need something to enclose the power cables, to prevent loss.”

“Sounds like liquid to me,” said Fetex. “Too bad nobody studies that.”

“Terfin, my partner in the lab, is a liquid specialist.”

“Really? Terrific! Invite Terfin to join us.”

Gifter didn’t hesitate. “No.”

“You’re always so stubborn. Why not?” asked Fetex.

“I’m willing to take the risk, but I won’t put Terfin in jeopardy.”

“We're only making a synthetic -”

“Which will land us in the Hall of Bad Examples if we're discovered,” said Gifter.

“Okay. Ask Terfin for some direction. You prefer to struggle?”

“No. Speaking of my partner, Terfin is completing the specifications for a recycler. There’s an energy payback, small but promising.”

“I’ll be ready.” Fetex moved to a wall-mounted recording device and made a notation. “What’s your partner like?”

“Brilliant, but with no confidence. Could do miracles, if it tried.” By the grace of The Gaian, Fetex and Terfin couldn’t be more different. “Quite an honor to work with a Frob so special.”

“Thanks,” said Fetex.

“I meant Terfin.”

“Oh.” Fetex donned the tool, approached the metal box and elevated. The lid opened with little effort. “Oh, you ordered four.”

“I had to make a decision about how many and what kinds, and you insisted I place the order.”

“No complaints. I expected two, perhaps three. More combinations.”

“You have a process in mind?” asked Gifter.

“Same one I use for new metals,” sad Fetex.

“You mentioned that before. How come you don’t let us in Materials Research do that work?”

“You invented a waste recycler. Wouldn’t that be my responsibility?” asked Fetex.

Everything that should have been straight-forward was mixed up. “I guess you’re right. We’ve both been violating the boundaries of our assigned duties.”

“Which makes us perfect partners.”

I don’t need another partner. We need to improve the shield. “What method do you use for making stronger metals? Some particular assessment of the attributes? Analysis of molecular structure?”

“Trial and error. Methodically,” said Fetex.

Maybe Fetex isn’t so smart. “That makes things easy.”

“Have you thought about my proposal?” asked Fetex.

Gifter was confused. “Didn’t we just decide on trial and error –“

“I meant gemsha.”

“Oh, that.” Can’t this Frob get mating off its mind?

“Your permanent record could use a mating entry. Besides, there are bonuses.”

The benefit of supplementary remunerations for both gemsha partners had escaped Gifter’s mind. “Why is that important?”

“Funding my side projects," said Fetex. "And you?”

How does a Frob as busy as Fetex have time for side projects? “My needs are fairly modest. I’d probably save it for a blistering day.”

“Or, consider donating it to me," said Fetex.

“Perhaps,” said Gifter. Asking for my mating bonus is quite presumptuous. “I do feel better about you. You’re not nearly as obnoxious as when we first met.”

Fetex took a step forward, encroaching Gifter’s personal space.

Gifter retreated a like distance. “Not that much better.”

“Still possible?” asked Fetex.

“I’ll make my decision soon, so if not, you can approach others.”

“Fair enough,” said Fetex.

“Now, lets’ get this crate unpacked and get to work. We’ve got a shield to improve.” And a planet to save.
Chapter Twelve [on Erutin] - Uncertain Understudy

 

Gnuoy crept through the towering jewel-encrusted doors and stopped. Why me? Ritewy should be here, as Mangik’s second in command. The floor was polished white stone slabs, cut in perfect squares. Militia in bandoleers stood behind blunt-nosed cylinders at the corners of the eight-sided room. At the far side, on a raised platform, sat the Grand Titan of Erutin, perched on an overstuffed throne. Gnuoy took deep breaths, consciously remembering to exhale, as it baby-stepped to an ebony tile in the center of the room directly in front of the monarch. Flanked by two attendants, the Grand Titan raised a shiny sphere that glistened in her claw. Gnuoy remembered Ritewy’s instructions, bowed, and attempted the screech of salutation. It came out as a feeble toot.

“You certainly took your sweet time.” The Grand Titan snaked her tongue out and sampled a shiny orb, then lowered the ball into her lap. “I ordered you to hurry, so we could improve our commerce volume before the next Regional Judging.”

Did Mangik complete the paperwork for my promotion? If I’m still an information intern, what am I doing here? “I decoded the disk as fast as I could, your Bugness, uh, that is, your Grandness.”

The Grand Titan leaned forward on the edge of her padded throne. “And?”

Gnuoy swallowed hard, tensing at her tone. “The disk contains pretty pictures, and a wonderful variety of sounds. I couldn’t decode the markings –"

The Grand Titan swiveled her head, glaring at one amenable, then the other. “What is this creature talking about? Pictures? Sounds?”

Gnuoy spoke the name as clearly as possible. “Urrrrrrrrt.”

The Grand Titan startled, falling back on her cushion. The amenables lifted her to upright. She fluttered her wings and resumed a regal posture. “My subjects usually refrain from obnoxious bodily sounds in my presence.”

“That’s the name of the planet. Urrrrrrrrt.” Gnouy scrunched down, attempting to become a smaller target. “The disk is an invitation, or maybe a travel brochure. I can’t be sure, because the markings –"

The Grand Titan vibrated on her throne. “The Yubllez sold me an advertisement for an extraterrestrial vacation?” The two attendants grabbed pillows and moved closer. The Grand Titan waved them off. “I’m fine.” She lifted the crystal orb and bit off a large chunk. With every crunch, Gnuoy winced, muscles contracting. The Grand Titan turned her head in the direction of the tapestries.

Gnuoy looked at the same wall. Just like Mangik described. Yuck, body parts!

The Grand Titan’s belly expanded and contracted in a smooth rhythm. “All right, so the disk describes a planet. Very well. What commercial opportunities are there for Erutin with this Urrat place, hmm?”

“None, your Highness.” Moisture collected under Gnuoy’s torso. “I looked it up in the Yubllez Galactic Commerce Guide. Urrrrrrrrt isn’t advanced enough for interstellar trade. There’s a specific ban on contact until –"

The Grand Titan waved both arms in wide circles. The amenables skittered back. “Then how in the cosmos did those Yubblez scum get hold of the disk?”

Gnuoy shrugged. “We might be able to tell once we decipher the markings.”

“You keep mentioning some markings.” The pace of the Grand Titan’s respiration increased. “Perhaps all is not lost. The value must be in the markings.” The Grand Titan scratched her chin with her left claw. “Yes, that information must be very valuable. Travel brochure indeed? Hah! If you can’t interpret the disk properly, who can? I will pay, whatever the cost.”

“That’s where Mangik went, to get the markings decoded.”

The Grand Titan stared at Gnuoy, tilting her head up and down. Finally, she leaned to the right and ground her mandibles. “You’re not Mangik, are you?”

“No, your Grandness. I thought you knew that Mangik left –"

One of the amenables leaned over and whispered into a cluster of dark spots on the Grand Titan’s chest. “Mangik did what?” The amenable continued her report. “They couldn’t?” The Grand Titan shook herself into an erect posture and repositioned herself on the throne.

“So, Mangik stole one of my ships. That blob always had a bit too much attitude for its own good.”

Blob? That's not very nice. “I’m really worried. Something awful could have happened.” Gnuoy wondered if the Grand Titan could hear the sloshing of its internal organs.

“Good riddance. You are now my chief data specialist. I command you to decode the markings –“

“I can’t.” Gnuoy took a deep breath. “Please don’t disintegrate me.”

“Can’t or won’t? Why are you Mernex so uncooperative?”

Gnuoy’s words ran together. “I would if I could but I can’t. Mangik took the disk. Please don’t disintegrate me.”

“The rascal probably intends to sell it on the open market. Where did Mangik go? Tell my head of security and I’ll send a squadron of my best militia to bring the thief back.”

Gnuoy paused. Mangik said it was a secret. But from the Grand Titan, or just fellow Mernex? “Urrrrrt.”

“Are you having digestive problems?”

Why does she keep asking that? “No, that’s the name of the planet.”

“Yes, of course. So where is that?”

“I don’t know. Mangik deleted my results when it left for the Mern planet of origin.”

“What is a planet of origin?”

Gnuoy wanted out, of the Grand Titan’s presence, and of that room, so it spoke quickly. “Your disk had information about a planet, and Mangik figured out that it’s our planet of origin, the one before Mern. Mangik must have been so overwhelmed at solving the puzzle, it couldn't control itself and oopsed. Please don’t disintegrate me.”

“You keep saying that. Have you done anything that warrants disintegrating you?”

Breathing out was a chore. “Not that I know of.”

“Mangik lied and then stole one of my ships. That’s something worth getting shot over.”

“Noooo.”

“Not you. Mangik, if it every shows its blobby body here again. Are you certain Mangik hasn’t been in contact?”

“I haven’t heard anything since Mangik left.”

“Could you find the scoundrel? Haven’t you a single clue?”

Gnuoy inhaled, but could not force an exhale. “Not without the disk, and like I told you, Mangik took it.”

The Grand Titan took another long look at the tapestry wall. Her voice dripped with authority. “As my new chief data specialist, I command you to recreate the disk contents.”

A too-familiar smell caught Gnuoy’s attention. Not now! “That’s impossible.”

“I know you Mernex can do wonders with information. Mangik did when it was here. Get me my data.”

She wants a miracle. Gnuoy tried to think about anything but notalhuvo. “It didn’t say anything about commerce or –"

“I don’t care. It was my disk, I paid for it, and I will not be humiliated by a renegade –"

Gnuoy squeezed as hard as it could but its bottom hole expanded to the diameter of its torso. Gnuoy’s organs flowed out, soiling the pristine marble.

“What do you think you’re doing? Stop that at once! I command you!”

Gnuoy’s skin cascaded into soft pleats. The two amenables stood frozen. The Grand Titan swayed on her throne, then fell to the side. Despite the padding, one of her arms broke off with the impact.

Inside out, Gnuoy’s organs vibrated, playing the Erutin anthem. The amenables and guards stood at attention until the song finished. As Gnuoy’s organs retreated into its skin, the amenables lifted the Grand Titan to the throne, waving the remainder of the sparkling sphere in front of her. Tips of the militia’s weapons glowed bright orange.

The amenables held the Grand Titan upright as she regained consciousness. “I have never been so insulted! The nerve! Playing the Erutin Anthem to a member of the Erutin aristocracy with your internal organs! As soon as you have personally recreated my data, all of your kind will leave Erutin, never to return. Do you hear me?”

Gnuoy wiggled its bottom against the tile floor, trying to suck in any remaining body fluid. Ritewy was correct all along. They’re all going to hate me! I couldn’t hold back a notalhuvo, and now we’re getting kicked off this planet, and it’s all my fault!

One of the amenables waved the renants of the shiny orb in front of the Grand Titan’s face. The Grand Titan grabbed the chunk and tossed it into her mouth. She coughed once, twice, then gagged it up. The fragment bounced off her belly, off the raised platform, shattering on the tile floor. She pointed her remaining stick thin arm. “Get out!”

Gnuoy crept towards the huge doors.

“You, Mernex!” the Grand Titan shouted. “I didn’t get your name.”

Gnuoy blurted out an answer. “Ritewy.”

Chapter Thirteen [on Frobzb] - I Hear You Knockin’

 

In a grey mist stretching beyond sensor range, an enormous crowd of Frobs cheered Mangik, who stood on a raised platform. Instead of whistles, the Frobs were beeping in unison, over and over. The warmth of the natives’ acclaim diminished with every beep. The cheers adopted a rhythm. Chanting Frobs moved closer, carrying torches. Was there hostility in the synchronized sound? Mangik looked for an escape route, but the Frobs had it completely surrounded.

Mangik opened its sensors. It was still aboard the ship bound for Frobzb. Beeping sounds seeped through the separations of the padded dashboard. The air was warm with a hint of smoke. Mangik looked out the viewport. The ship was headed directly for a huge red star.

Mangik recovered Doddis’s bone shard and jabbed it into the console, groping for access to the flight display. Dark smoke billowed out as the panel dropped. The flight path display showed a collision course into a pair of lined-up suns, beyond which was a planet.

This can’t be right. There was a gap. I’m sure of it!, thought Mangik.

The ship swerved on its own, throwing Mangik back against the padded seats. Mangik strained forward to the port. With the change in heading, a brownish-tan planet with random spots peeked out from beyond the dual suns.

I’m moving away! No! Mangik opened the controls panel and scratched at the indentations. A little more to the right. Using trial and error, Mangik managed to get the ship pointed straight at Frobzb.

Mangik glanced at the monochrome destination and then at the Grand Titan’s disk, just visible through the view port, mounted to the front tip of his ship. One item from Gnuoy’s prattling came to mind - Urrrrrrrrt’s description. Frobzb doesn’t look very lush. But this is the planet of Mern origin. Six for six! I’m sure of it!

Sounds distorted by a crackling noise interrupted the everpresent hum. “This is the Remote Telemetry Subcommittee of the Air Traffic Committee of the Interstellar Relations Division of the Central Council. You are nearing Frobzb airspace. We take our security and privacy seriously. State your craft’s designation and registration number, your designation and universal identifier, species, number of passengers, purpose of your visit . . .”

Bless the Ephemeral! I understood that. We share a language! Frobzb is our planet of origin!

The monologue ran on for several minutes.

They want to know vastly more than necessary. What did Doddis call me – a data sucker? I seem to come by it rightly.

“This is the Erutin ship named – “", Mangik read the word etched into the metal plaque above the controls, “– SugarBabies.” “I don’t know the registration number. My name is Mangik. I’m a Mern, a Mernex in truth. As a species, we don’t have unique identifiers, although that’s not a bad idea.” Mangik’s mind wandered to how such a scheme might be implemented, and then snapped back. “Why am I here? I don’t quite know where to begin –"

“This is the Remote Telemetry Subcommittee of the Air Traffic Committee of the Interstellar Relations Division of the Central Council. You are nearing Frobzb airspace. We take our security and privacy seriously. State your craft’s designation and registration number, your designation and universal identifier, species, number of passengers, purpose of your visit . . .”

How silly of me. It’s a recorded message. “Hello? Is some live Frobzbian listening? There must be someone I can speak with. You see, this is a very delicate matter and –"

“Unidentified ship, Frobzb does not allow unauthorized visitors. Your current flight path is for perpendicular atmospheric entry. This is an unwise approach. If you have navigational capabilities, I suggest you modify your heading to standard orbit immediately. Are you receiving?”

That was no recording. “Yes, loud and clear. I’ve been advised that you can catch me and bring me in for a safe landing –"

“Please identify yourself. Our planetary shield serves for purely defensive purposes, I assure you. We cannot be held responsible for damages to you or your ship –"

“Hello? Hello?” Why can’t they hear me?

The ship jolted hard, as if hitting an obstruction. Mangik’s body flew from the seats, slammed against the ceiling, then crashed down. Another jarring bounce smashed Mangik into the wall near the viewport. The ship was bathed in a speckled glow. Glittering along the hull, cascades of sparks flew up from the Grand Titan’s disk. Again and again, the ship hammered an invisible barrier.

Acceleration plastered Mangik to its seats. Fluid leaked from Mangik’s bottom as the cabin temperature rose. A spray of cool liquid shot from hidden nozzles towards the three seats. Drops meandered down Mangik’s torso, a few landing in its consumption hole, giving a taste of sickening sweetness.

“Ucccchhhh. And that smell.” Mangik tried to concentrate on the flight controls and instructions but the kaleidoscope images made its mind spin. A familiar odor was mixed with the toasted air. Was something on fire?

“Oh no, it’s me! Not notalhuvo! Not now!”

Mangik had been too distracted to notice that its bottom hole had fully expanded. Its guts leaked onto the three-across seating. Its skin collapsed, pulling in pads and fingettes. Mangik could only flounder, watching the planet get closer.

Doddis lied. This ship is an accident waiting to happen.

Two different voices argued over the radio. One spoke of “security” and “intruders” while the other barked about “grappler” and “net.” Didn’t Doddis mention catching using a net?

A jolt was accompanied by oscillating tones. The ship seemed to be slowing down, although the vibration shook Mangik’s exposed organs. Mangik could only muster a whimper. “You are going to catch me, aren’t you?”

The sugar spray sputtered and stopped, leaving Mangik’s exposed organs crystal-coated. Smoke poured from the crevices between the padded walls, ceiling and floors.

The padding! The Ephemeral bless the padding! Doddis promised it was sufficient to save the Grand Titan’s young ones. I’m safe!

As the notalhuvo continued, Mangik’s telepathic sensing reached out. I must be close. I can hear a song, the first one. Mangik assimilated the song, which seemed to go on forever. I wonder what it is? A lullaby for the young ones? A formal anthem perhaps? Does Frobzb even have anthems? Mangik’s organs vibrated, cracking the sugar crust. Quickly they achieved critical velocity, mimicking the melody Mangik had just ingested.

The communications console played only static. Where did they go? I have to explain. They can’t see me like this! Balloons exploded from the front console, smothering Mangik against the padded seats. The ship trembled, rubbing Mangik’s insides against the inflated bags. Slowly, Mangik’s internal organs quavered off the seats, dragging its body out from behind the padded protection.

Oh, why did this song have to be so long?

The ship shook. Mangik’s inverted torso slid to the floor. Metal squealed and rattled as the ship trembled through the atmosphere. The air smelled burnt. Mangik’s organs had not yet retreated into its body when the ship came to an abrupt halt. Mangik flew forward, its entrails splattered across the controls, painting them in intestinal reds and greens.

Mangik clutched two vials deep in its concave skin shell, one with its planet of origin research, the other with details of the Thirder planet. They stuck to Mangik’s fingettes. Sparks erupted from the console. Mangik dragged the top of its twisted body to the cracked viewport and peeked out at the flat, monochromatic landscape.

“Home,” Mangik gasped.
Memo [above Frobzb] – Persistence Pays

MEMO

To:       Cor’prytt, Subtending Accountant, Major Clients

From: Cor’chyn, Regional Provisioning Representative

Subject:  Unbelievable!

 

Dearest Sibling,

 

I just witnessed the most unusual event ever, light years more strange than the Annual Mad Dash for Obsolete Products.

By the way, I hope you and the little ones are well. How about that promotion, huh? Your sibling is destined for the high spiral now.

Let me tell you what just happened.

I'm currently visiting the Crescent cluster, attempting to open a new market. My ship is in a stationary position in the vicinity of a very private planet named Frobzb – not too close, or I might scare them. I figured I’d scope things out for a while and see who came and went, maybe even eavesdrop on some communications. I’ve been here three or four weeks now.

Today, a sleek executive cruiser-class vessel comes out from behind dual suns – my ship’s automated climate control runs constantly just to keep up – and bumps up against Frobzb's planetary shield. You've never heard of a planetary shield before, because it only exists on Frobzb. Come to think of it, you've probably never heard of Frobzb. Their shield is like a translucent bubble around the whole planet that keeps others out and, I suspect, keeps them in.

Anyway, this executive cruiser approached Frobzb at pretty near full speed. Instead of smashing to bits, the ship bounces off. But then, those cruiser class ships are built sturdy. Strange, huh? So what does the pilot do, after surviving what normally would be a fatal collision? He takes another run at it. I mean, he just bounced off and survived. Why risk it? But no, he rams the shield again, and bounces off a second time! The pilot must be stubborn – if he’s not an unauthorized Yubllez, I'd hate to have him as a customer - because he kept smashing the ship into the barrier. Then I notice he keeps hitting the same spot over and over, and the planetary shield is turning green at the point of impact. The shield really didn't have a color in the first place, just kind of silvery and twinkling. More impacts, and the shield developed a bright green bruise.

Speaking of impacts, did cousin Jef'chuck get over that run-in with the Pricecutting Cartel?

Finally, when the bounces get shallower and it looks like the cruiser has lost all of its momentum, the shield fractures just enough for the ship to slide through. For a second, I thought about powering up thrusters and sneaking in behind. But before I could decide, the fissure lightened and healed, leaving me on the outside. Just as well. These Frobzbians probably would have been spooked by my unauthorized landing. I dread to think of what they’ll do to that stubborn pilot.

 

Anyway, the whole episode was so exciting and unusual, I thought you'd find it interesting.

 

Best wishes and pincher-clicks to the family,

 

Your sibling,

Cor’chyn

Regional Provisioning Representative

Crescent Cluster

(Don’t you just love that title?)