Rominstral

By J. Peter J.

This second installment to The Sapien Way follows our intrepid agent, Trace Exide, as he continues his exponential evolution into what may be Sapienkind's only chance to survive and thrive in an increasingly hostile universe. Traveling to the galaxy Andromeda to seek a being known only as a vague legend, hoping there to find answers to plaguing questions, Trace undergoes trials no human or alien could likely withstand. His companions evolve with him, though not to the extent that he must in order to safeguard the precepts of an ideal which he champions more strongly than most would consider prudent. Introducing a new array of Sapien and alien characters to the storyline, Rominstral is a book sure to expose more mysteries than it attempts to resolve.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J. Peter J.
• Release date: Feb 6, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310323553

J. Peter J.

Ever since he was a boy, writing has been a joy for J. Peter J. Grateful for a fluid imagination, he uses his chemistry and biology experience along with the wondrous nature which surrounds his Arizona high desert home, to inspire works as varied as his sci-fi trilogy, The Sapien Way, or his first poetry collection titled, In the Apparatus of Questions. Thankfully, there seems to be no end to his pursuit of the best writing he can produce and his catalog of creations includes dozens of short stories, hundreds of poems, several completed novels and two new trilogies in the ferment of his mind and word processors. His decades in academia and his many years of playing the drums in a local band, working as a carpenter, mason, naturalist, sales clerk and property manager, all provide ample fuel for his writings.

Book preview

J. Peter J.

Rominstral

The Middle Third of

The Sapien Way

Rominstral

Published by J. Peter J. at Smashwords

Copyright © 2012 by Peter James Janousek

ISBN 978-1-3103-2355-3

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Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

About the author

Other Books By J. Peter J.

1

The Traveler

Peloria waited at the corner of Old Market and Main in the dim light of evening ending a Beaudunnadun Indian Sun day. She’d been waiting for fifteen minutes when the small Idgebath rolled into view from the distance, onto vacant streets. It carried a morsel of fruit in one hand, a telerake in another, using a third to propel itself on its central wheelbone. Peloria recognized the figure to be that of Marshal Travorel, leader of a band of hornblowers and moungrels, popular for the music they made and sought by most Palanthines for social entertainment during political galas or state to dos. Accompanied by females from Neiphagk during such events, these odd looking Idgebaths were an obvious parody on the physics of locomotion. The wheelbone, as it was called, had evolved from a distorted, mutated knee joint, the upper legs having gone vestigial and the male, instead of a penis, having developed a third appendage which was mostly for propulsion. In females, the two arms were used alternately for the same motion, lending a rather distinct wobble to their roll. Peloria still didn’t know the full morphology of the species and wasn’t that keen on learning how they managed to reproduce. Somehow, enough of them were around to settle any concerns over their possible extinction.

The business an Idgebath like Travorel was in, allowed him the benefit of intelligence gathering without presumption on the part of the governments he served to entertain. What Peloria wanted tonight was word of Trace Exide’s whereabouts following the famed Ftis’ho episodes on Fomalhaut, which had inadvertently launched the Nauplius into galactic heroism. She waited for Travorel to round the nearest corner, the mild stony rolling sound of its wheelbone the only noise in the quiet twilight. Gas lights were coming on and Peloria liked watching them alight in sequence from the distant Cemetery Hill to the near corners where her parent’s shop was located. All the family had gone home and she was in the stockroom taking inventory late, deciding to come out for a breath of air on this pleasant Indian Sun evening, so fresh with the scent of falling leaves and fading Summer blossoms off the surrounding hills and glens. What her family did not realize ~ she had no need for better air this evening, just information.

Have you anything for me tonight, Travorel? her mellow voice, like a balm in the gentle breeze, asked the odd creature now teetering on its wheelbone in front of her, balancing with the middle appendage and an occasional touch to the ground with one of the others. The telerake it held in one hand, Travorel then offered to the Sapien woman, taking a last bite of fruit from the other hand and then holding that one out for payment in exchange.

Peloria took the telerake and gave the Idgebath a packet of payment which disappeared into Travorel’s body, through his caloused palm. Funny, Peloria thought, they had some decidedly human features, these Idgebaths, but others that defied all convention. The face looked up at hers like a salamander peeping up from the water and it smiled.

Tootliedoolie, it said, spun around and began rolling away into the darkening streets, dodging away from the gas lights where it could. Peloria still didn’t know for certain how the Idgebath ever got to her planet. They used a form of space flight somewhat different from terrahoppers and Etherspace was not something they employed but managed to get around the distances of systems easily enough. Perhaps something borrowed from the Ftis’ho, Peloria thought.

On a more serious note, she hoped the information she was about to read was worth what she had paid for it. As she removed the small parcel from the telerake and unraveled a parafilm ball, stretching its thin tape out to hold up against the flickering light of a nearby gas lamp, she sighed, held her breath, then sighed again. Read it twice over. The message was written in a rough script, itself a crude translation from Idgebaddi to Standish but clear enough to a woman of Peloria’s language skills.

How will I find him now? she whispered into the night. How will I find Ajax? Damn them. Damn them all.

The news was not what she had hoped for. For too long, too hard, Peloria had tried to secure the Nauplius for herself. Not only the one who’d spawned that girl she loved ~ whom she’d lost, who’d been ripped from her for payment enough to keep her family happy and healthy for decades but at what cost to herself ~ but also the girl herself, the one Peloria should have raised and taught in the fine art of linguistics. And, in the fine craft of assassination. It was a travesty. To lose all these years in searching, in finding, then losing, now waiting.

The parastrip indicated that the Exides were on their way out of galaxy. Where to, no one was certain. The nearest beyond the Magellanic Clouds would be Galaxy Andromeda so that’s likely where the pair had gone. Travorel’s note had implied as much.

Why are you out here in the dark, Pellie? came the small voice of her younger sister, Emghee. Ever since their Earth sister’s death, Emghee had become very close to her elder sister and followed Peloria about like a puppy. It was harder and harder for Peloria to find time away from family long enough to get her jobs done. Harder and harder to get away. Still, she couldn’t help but sympathize with the girl, who looked up to her older sisters and now, having only Peloria left to admire, seemed to fear her loss as she had so mourned the loss of her other half sister, Lauren, though they had only met three times.

The last time Lauren had even been to Threadholme, for a whole month then, Trace had been to the Cyclone Nebula where he dispatched the forces of Navaro, the Black Gantry. That was one of Exide’s longest engagements away from home and left his wife free to pursue her other interests. She had gotten to know her Threadholme family better then, those three Gusters ago. Now, the small but not exactly young Emghee, looked up to Pellie with reverence.

I’m just having a breath of fresh air, Emghee. Where did you come from? Peloria asked, rolling up the paratape as discretely as she could.

What’s that? Emghee asked, looking at the ball of parafilm.

Oh, just some figures I’m going over for the inventory. Shouldn’t you be at home with Mama?

I told her I’d wait up for you. Can I help with the inventory, Pellie? The younger girl’s sweet demeanor was infectious and Peloria soon forgot about the problem she now faced, at least for a moment or two. Emghee was defective. She had a chromosome missing and though typically, such a child would be evacuated before birth, on Threadholme people were not as strict about such things as they were elsewhere in the galaxy. She’d been raised as a normal child, developed normally, for the most part, but still retained a childlike innocence and her memory was fine. She remembered goodness and evil well enough to know which one to steer toward and she knew who were her friends and whom to avoid. In other respects, aside from the distinct bulge of her forehead, she looked and acted as any other Sapien girl. But at twenty three years of age, she may as well have been six, by the way she spoke, the way she sounded and the way she clung to her older sister like a wet flower petal.

Thank you, Emghee. That’s so sweet of you to offer me help. I’m about finished here and anxious to go home myself. Will you walk with me? Let’s go check the shop and make sure everything is fine before we head home, alright?

Of course! I’ll go with you. It’s a nice night, isn’t it, Pellie?

Yes, Emghee. It’s a very nice night.

Peloria waited for her sister to say something more. There had been a question in Emghee’s eyes, as dimly as Peloria could see them in the flickering gaslight.

Pellie?

Yes, Emghee.

What was that rolling thing you were with before? Was it a toy? Was it a secret toy?

Ha, ha, yes, Emghee. A secret toy. But don’t tell anyone. You mustn’t tell anyone. And Peloria stopped, taking her sister by the shoulders and leveling her gaze into Emghee’s wide open eyes. Promise me you won’t tell a soul about that toy. It is a present for Papa. For Holiday. When we all go to the Christmas Cluster next Gustertime. Promise, alright?

Of course! I promise. My oh my, a secret toy! This is so exciting! she clapped her hands together. What does it do? Can it talk? I thought I heard it make a noise. The curious conspirator was flushed with excitement.

It makes music. Plays and sings like angel birds, Peloria answered truthfully. Little did Travorel know he would someday be caged. Peloria had not thought of it until right then, but the Idgebath would make a fine present for her father on Holiday. Their trip to the Christmas Cluster in another few months would be special indeed. Peloria had a lot to get done between then and now, though. She hoped there would be no interruptions to her work.

I love scheming with you, little sister, Peloria said, taking Emghee’s hand in hers as they walked to the shop. A few moments later, everything checked and locked, Peloria removed a handrod from a pocket and the two walked the two kilometers home in the darkness, taking the hill trail beyond the cemetery. The nights in Beaudunnadun were generally free of pestilence but the stray bat hound was known to swoop down from the black skies and take a child or more in the need to feed its young up in the Cliffs of Mange. Just last week, one of Emghee’s schoolmates had been lost to a bat hound. When the creature was shot from the sky by the girl’s parent, the equally defective Sapien girl was already partly digested. Peloria was not about to let her poor sister fall prey to such a horrible demise. If only she’d been able to save her other sister, Lauren. But that one knew too much. She’d been a threat to Peloria for a good long while.

Are you warm enough, Emghee? she asked, her hand all sweaty from her sister’s tight grip.

No. Chilly. I’m chilly. That’s a funny word, isn’t it? Emghee looked up just as a bat hound swooped down from above them and just scraped Peloria’s head with one of its talons. Peloria fell to the ground and Emghee cried out in fear. Peloria grabbed the top of her head and looked about in the darkness for the handrod. Finding it, she fired into the blackness of the starlit sky, at the shadow shape quickly ascending for another attack.

The creature yelped in pain as the handrod found its mark and came falling hard to the ground not ten meters away.

Whatwasit? Whatwasit!? Emghee cried, rushing about desperately, trying to find safety, trying to find her sister in the dark. A small light shone from Peloria’s hand then, a glow stick to light their way.

I thought I wouldn’t need one but now, I guess we should keep this on. It was a bat hound, Emghee. Come here, Peloria held her hand out to the frightened girl.

Are you hurt, Pellie? Are you hurt?

Not really. Just startled, I guess. Are you alright?

I think so. Startled too, But Emghee began to cry and it took a few seconds for her to go through that emotion. Then, almost as if it had never happened, When will we be home?

In a few minutes, Emghee. Just a few minutes. Peloria was not startled, really. She was angry that a bat hound, of all things, had scratched her head. She would normally not have allowed one to get that close before atomizing the filth. But she was a bit distracted and had to make sure her nights would not be taken from her. She had little enough freedom in Beaudunnadun as it was and had to make sure even that would still remain.

Emghee?

Yes, Pellie?

Promise you won’t tell anyone about this bat hound, OK?

Why?

We won’t be allowed out after dark if you tell anybody. Promise?

Why? Why won’t we be allowed out? You killed it, didn’t you?

Yes, but Emghee, there are more of them.

More? Where?! the young girl asked in sudden panic.

No, not now. But there are plenty more to come another time. We simply have to be able to kill them, that’s all. If you tell Mama or Papa, they won’t let us go out after dark. The whole town will be frightened. Let’s not frighten them. We’re brave enough. But let’s not make it harder for the others, alright?

Alright, Pellie. Whatever you say. The little child in the form of a not altogether unattractive but somehow deformed human woman sounded almost normal then.

Too bad, Peloria thought, that Emghee would never know what love is. Not true love with a man. Not the kind of love Peloria had known with Trace Exide. Not the kind she still held in her heart for him, even though she wanted him dead and gone forever. She touched the scratch on her head and thought how septic that injury would get for anyone human. But she wasn’t only human.

***

Do you think he knew this would happen? That his cells would attack hers and infect her with mycelium and cause this mutation? Ifchah asked Cirelem as the two stood at Archlivz’s bedside, shocked by the apparition before them. Their sister had become something other than Mundrichu by some odd transformation. Her appearance still feminine but not even vaguely sapien. Her body seemed fused to the mattress where she had given birth to that thing the Wools had taken. Cirelem had researched the creatures in the archives at Townshend, the nearest village to the orchards. Wool, in this strange case, stood for Walk On One Leg, which is just what the hideous intruders that stole Archlivz’s newborn had done. Hopped more than walked, though. A blessing it may indeed have been when they took the grotesque baby but not something they would have wished for. Now this. Archlivz was not only fused to the bed, but her body had developed tendrils of fiber strong enough to constrict the mattress and cut into it, all the way to the frame of the bed, making it appear that she lay upon a meshwork of cables and straps, all of which emanated from her body. Her eyes were wide open, her chest heaving for breath, her mouth open too, but not empty. In it were more fibers, like cotton or webbing, dense and impervious to fluids, which Ifchah had tried to administer to her clearly dehydrated sister. It seemed hopeless. Archlivz could not even speak, though her hands ~ or what still resembled them ~ occasionally tried to make signs of communication. Ifchah could make out only a few words amid the often jumbled sounds and gestures: Kill me. Please.

We cannot let her suffer, sister. This is not right, Cirelem said, shaking his head. A tear fell from his blinking eyes onto his younger sister’s hand and he saw it twitch a bit at the touch.

He took it in his, as best as he could within the confines of the fibrous growths which encased it now. She gripped his hand tightly and coughed. The webbing burst from her open mouth like a plug of white wool. She gasped and yelled, Kill me! I cannot be this!

Be what, dear sister? What?! Ifchah cried.

Like Trace! How can he stand it?! I am full with him. I know everything he knows. Everything! What has happened to me? Archlivz struggled against the fibers emanating from her own body until she overwhelmed them and tore free of the bed, fragments of mattress ripping apart, the frame creaking with complaint as it fell to pieces beneath her. Ungh! she shouted, as her body ripped away from the garments it had worn, hidden beneath the mass of mycelium that had grown out from her like a fungus on a piece of decaying fruit. The unattached mycelium withered at once and that which still formed part of Archlivz went into her as though being reabsorbed. Like water into a dry sponge.

This is . . . terrible. Wonderful. Painful. Ecstasy! Archlivz exclaimed, as though she were experiencing an orgasm of mind, body and spirit so intense that it caused her great pain and great pleasure both at once.

Where is he? Where is your faithful Earthman friend now, dear brother? Where?! Ifchah demanded, her eyes filled with a fire only a woman might have in her heart towards the male of all species. Every man was to blame for all the suffering any female had ever experienced in life or in death and Ifchah’s eyes now expressed that emotion perfectly.

Cirelem had nothing to say.

Archlivz arose from her destroyed bed, brushed off some loose, clinging bits of fabric, bed fiber and dried mycelium and stood there naked in front of her siblings. She looked a decade younger, though she had never looked fully her age before. The thirty years of life she had lived were erased as though belonging to someone else, loaned to her by mistake. A breeze came in through an open window panel and Archlivz let it blow her hair ~ an amber red with tones of brown through it ~ blow it lightly as her mind crossed the expanses of space just as lightly and she smiled unlike any smile she had ever shown.

What is it, sister? Does it hurt so terribly now? Ifchah asked in a trembling voice, unable to grasp this transformation in her sibling. The mundrichan looked fresh, new, complete and confident. Her body was elegant, smooth, supple and as perfect as any Sapien body or Mundrichu body had never been. Like Ajax. Ifchah’s eyes opened wide with realization. You, you are Nauplius!

***

There it is, the beautiful Galaxy Andromeda, ready for the taking! Trace said, holding his arms out toward the view of the vast spiral form of the magnificent sister galaxy to The Milky Way. Fabled as something almost alive, untouchable, unreachable for its great distance from every station planet in the only galactic home Mankind or the Others had ever known. Or had they known more? Trace held his arms out as though embracing the new place, still so far but looking so huge in the screens of the quill now. Murex spun like a screw toward the galaxy, making the image spin beautifully, as though the quill itself were excited at the sight. But it was merely responding to its pilot’s mood, which was as close to a kind of elation as anyone with him had ever witnessed.

How far do you think it is, Mr. Exide, asked Joe Boy, his hand warm in the hand of Ajax, who had tears streaming down her cheeks. She felt something like her father’s sentiments just then. Or perhaps his were so strong that they filled her up with their own power. Bea was in awe and Frank was staring as though seeing a cosmic beauty for the first time. Bethbetta was not looking at the celestial shape before them, still hundreds of thousands of light years away. She was staring intently at Trace. At the love of her life. She felt his joy, his curiosity, his anxious, boyish wonder then. For him, Etherspace travel was like brushing one’s teeth would be to an ordinary man. Trace simply did it with ease and familiarity. He knew the layout of the home galaxy and his quill could outpace any other hopper in existence. Looking at Andromeda, he seemed to feel relief from the mundane, from knowing what he knew. He felt freshness. His body was pulsing with the ambitions of a true explorer about to go where no one had gone before; about to experience new things, new creatures, new weapons, new ways to die. Bethbetta saw her man become a boy for a moment, then that moment disappeared as his arms came down. The ship stopped spinning and the others realized that the brief glimpse of a wondrous galaxy like this, close enough to touch, far enough away to lose a lifetime in pursuing it ~ would be a sight they’d all grow tired of in the lengthy process of flying towards it through the stifling blackness of space around them ~ would likely take years to reach. Reality always intrudes on fantasy in the end.

Far enough to wish we’d never done this I’m afraid, Joe Boy, Trace said, finally answering the lad’s question. Now, let’s see if that theory of yours really is as sound as the math seems to suggest. Trace entered a few flurries of finger work into the console of his quill, Murex purred like none of them had ever heard her do before and the galaxy began to grow bigger. Bigger like a balloon inflating before their eyes! Etherspace is constant. It is as vast and as compressed as anything one can imagine, both at once, Trace said, almost to himself. The others heard him and were staring at the galaxy which was taking on remarkable dimension. In it were eddies and whorls and living cells the size of solar systems, all beckoning the courageous crew to come join the life forms of this island world in space. For just as a planet is an island between the stars, so too a galaxy is an island between the vastness of dark energy where each one may be millions of light years from another. But knowing how to fully decode the magic of Etherspace makes the distances seem trivial, though clearly, they are not to the lay person, nor are they accessible to anyone but a man with a ship like Murex and the right equation. Or to a non-man like Trace Exide.

For the love of Jobe, was all Bethbetta could say just then.

Bea heard it but didn’t look away from the sight. In fact, she sort of felt like saying it herself, but didn’t.

Frank said, You can say that again.

For the love of Jobe! Bethbetta offered in response. Look at that!

Yes, my dear, look at that, Trace agreed, taking her hand in his. Murex will take us to the frontier of the galaxy, then we’ll switch over to standard Etherflight. This new trick Joe Boy devised deserves a fitting name. Don’t you think so, Joe Boy?

I . . . I guess so. What do you think we should call it, Mr. Exide?

First, stop calling me that. I’m Trace to you like I am to any of the rest of you. And second, ask your new friend there. Maybe she has an idea or two, Trace nodded toward Ajax who had been so silent through all of this.

Me? I don’t know. I don’t have any ideas, Father. Joe Boy. Really, she said, stumbling into the subject.

Joe Boy took Ajax’s hand and held it up, looking at how lovely it was. I think we should call it The Exide Equation.

No, no! Trace said, almost irritated with the notion. It’s a type of flight through the great reaches of space itself. It deserves something grand. Something big. Something large!

How about Large Light? Bethbetta volunteered, a bit sheepishly, still amazed by the sights before them.

Well, when I said large, I didn’t~

That works! Joe Boy shouted, still looking at the way Andromeda was swirling in their screens, through the portholes, growing like a breath from the mouth of someone you’re about to kiss. Laser Analog Retro-Generative Energy! Large. L-A-R-G-E, he spelled out. It means just what the Etherspatial theory suggests: light collapsing in upon itself to prove distance as an aberration of time by stepping through time to get to the distance one wishes, compressing it, like a laser imploding on itself, until one starts at point A and finds point B to be where he started from in the first place! The boy was especially pleased with the sheer simplicity and perfection of the name, brought forth by this frighteningly attractive, dangerously tough Shelph warrior in front of him.

Well, it wasn’t that great an idea, Bethbetta admitted, thinking it had inspired far too much enthusiasm from the boy. I mean, we haven’t exactly gone from point A to point B instantaneously.

Of course not. We’d be dead if we did, Joe Boy said knowingly. But close enough. I think it’s a good name. A perfect name. Don’t you, Jaxie?

Jaxie? Bethbetta silently mouthed to Trace who shrugged and smiled.

You know young lovers, he offered in a low voice.

I’d like to say something on this matter, if I may, came Bea’s voice into the conversation.

What is it, Bea? Trace looked up at the mirrored screen atop the one now displaying the vivid beauty of the galaxy, as though looking at someone sitting in the back seat of an old airbus back on Earth.

I think it’s a bright name for a bright idea. Josef, you’re my little genius! And then she leaned up toward Bethbetta. And you, dear, are someone I think we should have met up with a long time ago.

Bethbetta felt touched. She was not accustomed to being sincerely appreciated, except perhaps by Trace, but with him, it was different. She had only known her father’s love before taking a job as the principal aide to DC Lister Wigg. After that, her focus was on eradicating the Sapien threat from the galaxy. Perhaps even exterminating Trace Exide, before she realized she loved him too much. Now she felt like her family had suddenly grown into something she had no idea could exist. Thank you, Bea. You’re very kind to say such a thing, she said, unaccustomed to what she was feeling.

I spoke the truth, nothing less, Bea said smiling, then patted the Shelph on her head like a mother might her daughter and leaned back into her arachnochair for the duration, saying no more until they were seeing stars and nebulae all around them, less than an hour later.

Trace was looking out through the corglass with something like boyish amusement on his face, but a deeper quality of respectful acknowledgment was there as well. This pretty much neuters the legend of the Realm of Everdark. The Sapien Archives will need some revisions.

***

Strange how time flies. Gregre-ergerg was watching his favorite streem ~ the one with the big, bold, buxom blonde that takes over the entire planet ~ when his junior computer system alerted him in a fashion he’d never expected it really would. His big early one, Thotho-ohtoht, and he had devised this program to find stray energy signals from outside the hive, their home world so near the frontier as it was. It would appear that the system they had created was now letting Gregre-ergerg know of an intruder from beyond the periphery of The Chrysalis. His genderbearers didn’t know of this alarm and his seeder came upstairs to the room Gregre-ergerg shared with his big early one. Thotho-ohtoht was at Throw practice, probably capsizing his favorite soft one, as he liked to brag about doing. Now it was up to Gregre-ergerg to tell his seeder what that awful noise was emanating from his room. First, he turned off the streem to hide the buxom blonde from view and then he placed a pillow over his netherparts to hide his growing reaction to the buxom blonde one. The door flung open without a knock.

Gre! What is that noise?! Don’t you realize I’m resting before a big night at work? his seeder growled. Are you watching that streem again? Get a soft one of your own. Do like your big early one! I need my rest! As abruptly as the growling had begun, it subsided and his seeder left the room, slamming shut the entryway with vigor. Of course, by then, Gregre-ergerg’s holder was likely disturbed too and would ask him oh so many questions when he came downstairs.

He went to his computer and looked into the scopes, which were something he had devised on his own. When having outgrown the viewing of crusty crawlies he’d gathered from the grounds, he made the microview into a computer stereoscope so he might experience less ocular fatigue. Ever since, he could study for hours and not get tired. Frightened away from further viewings of the big, blonde buxom one eating the planet, Gre, as his seeder liked to call him when he was angry, tried to decipher what the error might have been to initiate the alarm. But there appeared to be no error. The object had approached the periphery with alarming haste. Almost instantaneous haste. His speculation program indicated that it was an object originating in the nearest hive, Treasure Ball. But that was impossible. No one could even fly among the stars, let alone from one hive to another! No one the Holseds knew of, anyway. The others on Proof would never believe this. No one would. He’d be laughed out into the Arklands. He couldn’t tell even his big early one of this. But Gre was too fascinated to leave his scope. Could it be? Could there really be life elsewhere in The Chrysalis or even beyond? The fictional screen he loved to view would suggest so. But that was all fantasy. Reality always intrudes upon fantasy. Doesn’t it?

***

Oscar angrily slapped the side of his head, still frustrated with himself for never having had this thing removed. Yes, what is it? he asked aloud, no holoplat to project his caller’s image from, no one around to hear him talking to himself. The day was lovely and Andie had gone for a swim. He loved watching her move. A pang of distress at having to take his eyes away and his mind away from the sight of her out there on the shore, in the water, out of the water, glistening, shimmering in the sunlight of Beach, was welling up inside him like a scream wanting to cut this call short, though he didn’t even know for sure who it was from.

Chief Perrin?

Yes!

So sorry to interrupt your vacation. Earth is under attack and you have been summoned to return at once.

Is this a Marpril Fool’s Day joke or something? Oscar asked, lighting a stemstik to kill the irritation he was feeling.

This is Palanthine Lithenroff. I urge you to return. The Armada is stretched to its limits here and the Corps is collapsing. We need you here. Without your leadership and guidance, or at least the presence of Mr. Exide, there is simply no one to take control of matters.

What about the Admiral. What about any one of the Admirals? Oscar asked in utter anxiety.

Admirals? Why, they are all dead. Every one of them.

Dead? The stemstik fell out of Oscars mouth, right to the brilliant, warm, welcoming sand where it went out. He looked at Andie now approaching him with that look of concern on her face