A Moon Called Sun
Chapter Eleven — The Guardian of Rak

Trace...Trace... Trace...the name resonated down the corridors of his unconscious mind. He heard it again and again, faintly at first. Trace...Trace...like a whisper...Trace...but it grew stronger as it wound its way into the forefront of his awareness. "Trace!"

Trace's eyelids fluttered open. He awoke, looking up at a billion bright stars...valiant beacons against a darkened, blood-red cosmos. A shooting star raced by and left an extended trail of stardust behind it...a scene strangely familiar. Gone were the mirrored buildings and reflective sidewalks of Narkissos. Gone were the Cut-glass Mountains and Crystalline Forest of the Wilds. Everything had been replaced by giant pillars of crumbling sandstone and granite that formed a perfect ring around him. Every column was etched with mystifying symbols of an ancient language. The pillars looked down on him in judgment. They were a council of elders assessing a stranger amongst their people. "What...happened?" He sat up, disoriented.

"You did it, you beautiful pack of protein!" cried the recognizable rattles of Widgit's tapioca globules. "We, my friend, are now at the Pillars of Rak."

"Widgit?" He massaged the corners of his eyes with his fingertips. "Is that you?"

"None other." Widgit's tubby fried-egg form reappeared before him, her feelers spinning in a convulsive dance of happiness. "I can't believe we made it!" "We did?"

"We did? Such a modest Moofty. Yes, we did. And you couldn't have done it without the considerable help of the magnificent WilsIx DrasGynoeci IxTarastea from Hubria in the Astrometis Cluster. I'm a true hero of the Partnership." Widgit continued to twirl her tentacles in absolute joy.

"But I don't remember...When did we reach the portal?"

"Bug nuts, you silly Earthian," she rattled in laughter. "The Trihedrals were the portal!"

"They were?"

"Yes, they were." Widgit slapped her arms together in circular succession. "I never thought you'd decipher the pattern, especially after they jammed my translator."

"What do you mean?"

"Bwa! You're the cheekiest hugger-mugger." She squished over to him and grabbed both cheeks on his befuddled face with two of her wiggling feelers. Trace felt the cold, wet suction against his skin. It wasn't the worst sensation in the world...just the oddest. "I admit you're smarter than you look. You had Widgit fooled, and that's quite a challenge to rattle. But how did you know the correct order to slay the Trihedrals and unlock the portal?" "Oh..." Trace mumbled through the puckered lips of his mashed-up face. "...id wush eeshy."

She let go of him.

"Easy!" She spun around once again. "Yes, easy for my brilliant pupil who knew that, to open the portal to Rak, the first Trihedral must die by the heart, the second by the head, and the third, which is always the trickiest one, by his courage alone. I've never seen one come apart that way before. Talk about lily-mush. Fuck!"

"Yes, well..." he said. "Luck is more like it."

"Bwa! Do you know how long I've been imprisoned in the purgatory of Narkissos by the Suntholo, waiting for someone wise enough to break me free and possessing the will to do so?" "Well, no..."

"Carps! Neither do I-it's been that long. Thank you, T. Jackson from Earth of the Tertian Cluster. We shall forever be bonded."

"But no sex, right?" Trace confirmed.

"Your call," she rattled back. "The offer is still on the table."

"Thanks, Widgit." He stood and brushed himself off. "I'll keep it in mind."

Widgit pointed six of her twelve tentacles upward.

"What in the name of Magdala Ray is that?" she gasped in her rattling.

Directing his gaze to the spot she was wriggling, Trace saw an oblong object that floated high above the colossal Pillars of Rak.

"It looks like a big glass egg..." he said, scratching his head. "With something-or someone-inside." Even at this distance, he recognized who was inside the egg hovering above the Pillars. She was unlike any other woman he'd ever seen- lovely and elegant with long jet-black hair flowing around her like a sinuous cloak of night. "Hialeah."

The dog pounced from out of nowhere and knocked Trace onto his back again. With its eyes the color of pure silver and its fangs drenched in thick foam, the canine appeared rabid. It took just about everything Trace had left in him, but he held the crazed, angry animal at bay and kept its snapping muzzle away from his face.

"Carps, it has a guardian!" said Widgit, vanishing into the scenery, as she was prone to do.

"Great, another damn guardian!" Trace fought off the vicious dog.

The animal snarled and snapped and bit at him with a belly full of fire and rage. Trace caught a whiff of its pungent scent. Its breath reeked of death and, overall, the dog smelled just plain awful. Although its fur was filthy and matted, the color was unmistakably red.

Wait a sec, that's not death I smell on its breath. That's balls and ass!

"Skiff?" Trace latched onto the scruff of its furry neck, straining to control him. If he could just look him in the eye, surely Skiff would recognize him. But the dog continued struggling against his grip and made it damn near impossible to make any kind of connection. "Skiff, it's me!" he cried. "It's Trace!"

Skiff clawed at his chest through the Zeratee. The outfit didn't have a tear or snag anywhere and didn't show the slightest sign of damage, but Trace could feel the scraping against his skin as if he were wearing nothing at all.

The animal drew back his lips, and his quicksilver eyes seethed with a sinister hatred. The two were at a stalemate, each with the other pinned and neither able to attack. But this did not last long. Skiff shook free of Trace's grasp and retreated a few paces. Now unhindered and with haunches raised, the dog arched his back, ready to lunge at his victim.

"Aw, shit." Come on Trace, come on! "Skiff!" He shouted, pointing in a random direction beyond the Pillars of Rak. "It's Parker Posey! Go get her!" Suddenly perplexed, the dog relaxed his aggressive posturing. And with a look of bewilderment inside his silvery eyes, Skiff whimpered in confusion. "It's Parker Posey, boy! Go get her!" Trace reaffirmed the command while getting to his feet. "Go!"

That was enough for Skiff, and he bolted in the direction Trace indicated. The dog's lusty yelps of excitement soon grew fainter and fainter in the distance.

Widgit popped back into sight, affixed to the side of nearby pillar. "That's an interesting technique," she rattled. "I'd like to learn the power of this Parker Posey command. It is very effective."

"Yeah, sure." Trace brushed himself off. "But I'm afraid it's only temporary. He'll be back as soon as he realizes there's no Parker Posey on this rock."

"You mean Rak," she corrected him.

"What?"

"These are called the Pillars of Rak, not the Pillars of Rock. You meant Rak."

"No, I meant rock. This is Rak," replied Trace.

"Yes, it certainly is," Widgit answered.

"Is what?"

"Rak."

"Okay, let's just keep talking in damn circles, because that's not a colossal waste of time, now, is it?"

"What's time?" Widgit scratched her globules.

"It's what we don't have very much of before Skiff comes back to sink his fangs into my jugular."

"Carps, that doesn't sound very pleasant. You'd better follow me..." Widgit led Trace to the center of the ring of Pillars. And there, at the very crux of the circle of columns, was a dark hole that descended deep into the ancient temple of Rak. The entrance looked large enough for them to pass through single file. "You first." Widgit pointed into the darkness of the opening with three of her foremost feelers.

"I can't go in there now. I need to get Hialeah down!" He looked up to the floating glass bubble where she remained suspended.

"You'll never get her down from out here, T. Jackson. Nope, the only way to save her from up there is to go down there." Somewhere out of sight, Skiff yapped in futility. The dog was making his way back around and drawing closer. "It appears he's cracked your little deception. I guess you'll just have to trust me," Widgit rattled with coolness.

"Fine." Trace stepped inside the blackness and began the decent down a spiraling tunnel into the bowels of Rak. "What's wrong with Skiff anyway?" Trace asked as they headed down the sloping tunnel. "I've had him since he was a pup, and he wouldn't hurt a flea. And his eyes...they were silver, why did they look like that?"

"I'm afraid his spirit exists elsewhere, on another plane even, perhaps inside the matrix itself. The poor beast is under the control of the evil Suntholo."

"Don't call him a beast," snapped Trace, remembering back to the massive explosion on the sea of Narkissos. "He's a good dog."

"Oh, of course..." Widgit rattled with mock compassion. "He's a creampuff."

"Smart ass."

"Another term is indexed," she rattled.

***

Eventuality Ripples.

It felt like they'd been hiking the descending helix for hours, even though Trace knew this was an exaggeration but his aching thigh muscles agreed with the embellishment. The further down they went, the more the spiraling passage closed in on them. There were no doors along the way, no off-shooting tunnels of any kind...just one way forward...and downward. While this made decisions easier, it also brought about in him a feeling of claustrophobia. Widgit squished behind him with no hint of distress in her demeanor whatsoever. She just rattled on and on in the typical fashion of females...even the artificial ones.

"Carps is my proprietary abridgment meaning cathartic phrase," she declared. "In case you wondered "Excuse me?" Trace replied, staying attentive to their gloomy descent.

"You know, carps. I always rattle carps. It's one of my patented Widgies," Widgit said proudly.

"What the hell are you going on about? Who gave you a wedgie?" Trace didn't look back as he navigated the dark, winding corridor.

"Not wedgies, you barmy muckle, Widgies. Widgies are my exclusive slogans, euphemisms, and metaphors. They're distinctively Widgit and endlessly brilliant. Bug nuts is my newest linguistic creation."

"Sorry to break this to you Widgit, but I've heard that one before."

"Not likely," she huffed.

"Yes, very likely. On Earth, as a matter of fact."

"Well, I shall bring the unauthorized abuser before council, if that's the case." She smacked a couple tentacles onto the tunnel floor much harder than the others. "I don't care where they're from. I demand recompense." This really seemed to unsettle the gynoid.

"Wow," said Trace. "Things are the same, no matter what cluster you're in."

"Ha! There's nothing like Widgit anywhere in the multiversity," she rattled. "In fact―"

"Hush." Trace put a finger to his lips, hoping to silence the chattering gynoid. "I hear someone." He stared into the darkened passageway and remained quiet, listening. "I hear someone talking down there," he whispered.

"I feel a voice as well," replied Widgit. "Masculine."

"Yeah, well, keep your porticos closed there, Widgit." He held back a snicker.

"Just because I excel in erogenous delicacies, doesn't mean I'm a-"

"Relax, egg-drop. No one is calling you a whore. We all know you're a lady of independent means." He laughed under his breath.

Curious about the origins of this strange voice, Trace resumed his journey down the tapering spiral. The passage soon widened out again, and a faint light from further down the way bathed the tunnel in its soft glow. "Thank God," he said in a gasp. "I thought this thing would go on forever." With the back of his arm, he wiped a few beads of nervous sweat off his forehead.

"Which god are you thanking?" Widgit asked. "There's a surplus of deities in observance out here. It depends on which part of the cluster you're groveling in," she preached. "I hope you don't ascribe to that Inherited Tabula Rasa drivel-" "Would you please stop that incessant rattling?" Trace turned to scold her. "I mean, for the love of Pete, stop doing whatever it is you do to make so much damn noise."

"Fine. Consider me closed." Widgit cloaked herself. "And I didn't appreciate that egg-drop comment either." This was the last thing she said before blending into the surroundings and vanishing into the darkness.

"Oh, come on, Widgit." Trace sighed in desperation. "Don't disappear on me. Not now. I'm sorry about the whole egg-drop thing." He listened for a long while, hoping she'd come back around. But he listened in vain. As only a female could, she dug deep into her grudge and refused to come out.

The dim tunnel swarmed with unknown shadows, and his mind perceived faceless monsters skulking in the chilly darkness. His only friend had abandoned him, and now his ears overflowed with an active nothingness that played tricks on his gullible senses. Widgit was gone from both sight and sound...he heard not even a random rattle to calm his anxiety. Trace had been left alone to deal with whatever it was that came next. "Good night, nurse."

With no other choice, he forged on without her. Hialeah remained suspended high above the Pillars of Rak and, somehow, whatever lay at the end of this twisting tunnel held the answer to her freedom. There wasn't any alternative but to press on, shadows be damned.

The voice he'd heard resonating down the passage was closer and much more distinct. "I spill regret on your feet as I drop to my knobs," it said, ricocheting around the bend which made him jump. "Loose pedals of lightness fell. A likened warrior expired in the expanse."

As he rounded the corner, Trace came up against the lighted silhouette of an arching threshold at the end of the tunnel and a few feet in front of him. The tall arch of light was an intense icy blue, and it formed a perfect outline of a rounded doorway. He'd made it to the bottom of the corkscrewing spiral and was just a short distance away from another chamber inside the temple of Rak. The solitary voice inside, obviously unaware of Trace lurking outside, kept repeating strange phrases to himself.

"Handle the receptor conduits with a more caring light," it said. "I told her. I told her. She didn't listen. There may be eventuality ripples. I said that...didn't I say that? I did say that." The needle was stuck on the record inside this idiot's head. "Distended paunch. Suckled conflict like nectar from Rasa's quivering tit!" He giggled. "Discarded husk."

Hugging the wall, Trace crept up to the opening and, with caution, peered inside the chamber.

"Undersized marble and waggish pajamas...bah!" the voice exclaimed. "Advise this humble lamb, I said. But now look at her, now look at her, all muckled up! Sleeps with the high holy? I don't think so!"

Within, Trace spied a man, perhaps Earthian, who scrambled about a large room bathed in that damn icy blue glow. Possibly in his mid-forties, the man had thinning mousy-brown hair that was tousled upon a pointed head. He was of slender build and sloped shoulders. There wasn't anything very exceptional about him except for his filthy baby-blue pajamas with the initials S. M. embroidered on the shirt pocket in thin black thread. And the man was frantic as he darted about. "Nubbins and talliwonk, she says," the thin man jabbered. "Nubbins and talliwonk she is!" His laughter stopped just short of being maniacal. "Withering long loads of metal have distorted the clusterial arc, is what happened. I warned her... didn't I warn her? Yes, I certainly did warn her, but would she listen? Cracks! Cracks, I say!"

The funny man circled around a thickset pedestal of discolored granite. Resting upon this pedestal was a peanut-shaped rock roughly the same size as a large loaf of bread. It was this glowing rock upon the stone pedestal that suffused the entire chamber in radiant blue light. On the floor of the chamber lay hundreds of silver cones of all sizes, all scattered around the pedestal.

The cones reminded Trace of those old-fashioned dunce caps schoolchildren were forced to wear for misbehaving back in the day. Some of these cones were as small as teacups, while the biggest were as tall as barstools. The one thing these cones had in common was their color. All were iridescent silver that reflected multiple lines of blended colors like oil on a puddle.

The Earthian in dirty PJ's would randomly pick one up to peer inside its open bottom, only to toss it to the stone floor again in obvious frustration.

"Pure erroneous nooblies on you, not me on you!" He shouted as he threw another dunce cap to the floor in disgust. "I'll never find it." He couldn't seem to settle on any cone as he inspected and then tossed them aside one by one. "The Suntholo wouldn't recognize a proper transduction algorithm if it bit them on the lobe!"

"What do you know about the Suntholo?" Trace asked as he stepped from the shadows.

The man froze in place with his back to him.

"Well?" Trace demanded. "I asked you a question."

"Do you exist?" the man whispered very nearly to himself and without facing Trace.

"Perhaps," answered Trace.

"Perhaps? Perhaps..." The man chuckled. "Yes, perhaps. Very clever, very clever. Well then Mister Perhaps, can you tell me if you're a local or not?"

"In relation to what?" asked Trace.

"To what, yes well...from this dimensional cluster?" The man clarified his question.

"No, I'm not a local," said Trace.

"Nooblies. I was afraid of that." The man turned slowly to get a look at Trace, and once around, his beady eyes expanded with alarm...as much as beady eyes could. "Cracks on a lamb, it's you! My mistress warned me about you, Talio-Sui." "How do you know that?"

"Oh, I've assimilated many marbled mollies." His mouth turned upward on one end to produce an oddly crooked smile. "I know many things. More than just revenue and expenses, you know."

"What's your name?" asked Trace.

"Ha! No one needs a name anymore," he answered. "A good balance sheet maybe, but who cares about a name? Huh? Answer me that, Talio-Sui. A stupid rose is a stupid rose is a stupid rose. But what's in a name?"

"Knowing each other's name will help establish trust," Trace said.

"Trust? Trust. Yes, trust is certainly marbled. Tell me yours then."

"I asked you first."

"Well...yes...yes, you did. You did ask first...first and foremost. Very well. I am Steven J. Murphy from Spokane, Washington, United States of America, Earth, Tertian Cluster."

"Holy shit, you're Steven Murphy?" Trace approached him. "I've heard about you."

The man rushed around to the protection at the other side of the pedestal. "Stay back, Talio-Sui!" he shouted, his pinched face smoldering with the dull blue pallor from the big blushing crystal. "I'm not dead, I'm not dead! But you are...I saw you perish on the sea of Narkissos. Boom! What a beautiful heat flower it made. I'm made sure of that as I directed the trials for my mistress. I love explosions. Cannons were too crude, too crude. I had to step it up a notch! How can you be here? Unless...you're a ghost. You still wear the suit, but with dead man stripes. Nubbins and talliwonk, are you a ghost?"

"Why would you think me a ghost?"

"This place is full of ghosts." He began wringing his hands as he explained. "Malsumi ghosts mainly, but others pop in, here and there."

"Fascinating," said Trace as he advanced from around the pedestal. "I never did believe in ghosts." He moved with deliberate care, so as not to spook the twitchy Earthian named Murphy.

"Yes well, this place will make you believe many things you once thought unbelievable."

"So I see." Trace was almost upon him.

"Stop!" Murphy held up a hand. "You didn't tell me your name, Talio-Sui."

"You're right, I didn't." Trace stopped. "I'm Trace Jackson from Hillsboro Beach, Florida, United States of America, Earth, Tertian cluster. Pleased to meet you, fellow Earthian." Trace extended his hand in greeting.

"No touch, no touch." Steven Murphy stared at Trace for a moment and then resumed darting about the odd assortment of cones. "No silver hand for you, Mr. Jackson. Such a pity it's so damn pretty. So deadly too, will spill, will spill, yes it will."

Trace thought hard for a moment.

"You and I have a mutual friend, Mr. Murphy," Trace said to him.

"I have no friends on this world or any other," replied Murphy. "They're a liability."

"I think you do, a very close friend. She's a gynoid called Widgit."

Murphy halted his frenetic scavenging and stood with his back rigid. After an extended pause, he finally declared, "I have no recollection of anyone named Widgit," and continued with his relentless quest of the cones.

"And the Malsumian Reclamation Partnership? You have no recollection of that?"

"Who controls the past controls the future." Murphy sighed heavily. "Who controls the present controls the past."

"Very nice, I like that."

"Not mine, not mine...George Orwell-pen name... British novelist, essayist and critic." Murphy went about his business rummaging through the dunce caps around the room. "Born 1903, died 1950, and considered the twentieth century's best chronicler of English culture. Not a very good warrior, though, so we won't touch him. No suchie, no touchy! We need assets, assets we need."

"At least tell me what you're looking for in all this mess?" Trace said, trying to steer the conversation to something useful.

"I must locate the correct receptor." He picked up a larger cone and gazed through the hole at the smaller end. Murphy grunted as he dropped it to the ground and snatched up another. "She's a fickle mistress, very damn fickle...as fickle as... fickle as..." he scratched his head.

"A pickle?" Trace smiled at his rhyme.

"Why would she be a pickle?" asked Murphy. "What the hell, man? Go play Mother Goose somewhere else and leave me alone."

"But what are these things?" Trace pointed to a mass of jumbled cones.

"Hmm? Oh, these are receptor conduits." Dissatisfied, Murphy threw another cone to the floor and snorted as it bounced away. "They identify surface fragments for three-dimensional clusters of discrete particles and transfer them to the point of contact." "Say that again?" Now it was Trace who was doing the head scratching.

"Think of it as visual transduction of the eye where photo receptor cells convert light into electrical signals to the brain." Murphy's demeanor brightened for a moment as if happy someone was engaging him. "But these receptor conduits do more than convert. They convey...bringing the dimensional target back...here."

Trace picked up a small receptor conduit at his feet and peered into its larger end but was dismayed at what he saw inside. The interior of the conduit was dull and unspectacular...just ordinary distressed gunmetal. Nothing at all like Murphy described-nothing magical or all-powerful. "I don't see anything," he said with disappointment.

"You're not trained to see anything is why you don't see anything!" Murphy seized the conduit from Trace's hand. "You can't just saunter in here like a little Moses and expect a parting of the Red Sea. I serve the Suntholo, not you, and I alone can make the distinction. Miffled nooblies, man, miffled damn nooblies...from the Earth to the sky."

"Steve...may I call you Steve?" Trace inquired.

"Won't snap my dragon. Call me Steve if it helps you feel friendly and such poo waddle. You so want to be friends-the friendliest of friendly friends one and all!" Murphy didn't seem to be paying much attention to Trace as he searched through some receptor conduits scattered in the far corner of the room.

"I need your help, Steve."

"Oh! Sure, you do, Talio-Sui, sure you do. And I'm Chief Bam-Bulu of the Tahitian Islands, and I married me five topless natives named Betty, Becky, Berta, Beatrice, Oonga and Sue." Murphy picked up a conduit the size of a small megaphone and looked through the opening at the bottom. "Ah-ha, molly! I found her!"

"I need to get Hialeah down-"

"The proper transduction algorithm is the trick." He brought the conduit back over to the pedestal in the center of the chamber. "While the right receptor may be the critical eye, the key has always been the Halcyon! The Halcyon is the key to unlock the door."

"Wait, is that the Halcyon?" Trace pointed to the big bluish rock.

"Yes, the key, the key!" Murphy chanted in a singsong rhythm. "The sanctified cell for me!" He wiped the spittle from his lips caused by such excitement. "The Halcyon is very powerful, very unpredictable technology that will trigger all sorts of eventuality ripples if handled improperly. I held it for too long once and relived my entire birth from conception to delivery. Talk about disturbing. You try being inside your mother's birth canal as an adult and see if you come out unscathed." Murphy held his receptor conduit over the Halcyon sitting upon the granite dais and suddenly...let it go. Yet, the conduit didn't tumble to the floor as gravity would normally dictate. It remained upright, dropping a foot or so until it bounced as if hitting an invisible cushion of air coming up from the Halcyon itself. Finally, the bouncing conduit settled into some imperceptible groove that locked it into place. It hovered there just above the crystal like a floating crown set upon a wicked king's repellent head.

"There now, that's molly light molly." Murphy brushed his hands together as if to rid them of metaphorical dust and debris. "I should be able to convey her to me."

"Light Molly what? Convey who?" said Trace, but too late for a reply.

Murphy reached down to touch the side of the Halcyon. His touch elicited a brilliant cylinder of electric-blue energy that projected up from the rock and into the base of the conduit suspended above it. A narrow ribbon of energy then sprang through the small hole at the top of the receptor conduit and struck the ceiling. Instantly, the ceiling erupted with such vivid blueness that Trace was forced to shield his eyes from the explosion of powerful light above him. Peering between the slats of his fingers, he observed the rolling swells of light churn against the ceiling. The swells were like violent gales of wind whipping across a swimming pool filled with crystal blue water. The blue energy engulfed the chamber in its insidious embrace. Averting his eyes from the beam, Murphy rotated the Halcyon upon the pedestal.

"I need to dial her in, yep dial her in, Huckleberry Finn." He turned the rock a bit more, swiveling it upon its perch. "Yikes, that stings. Shocking, very shocking."

"I'm aligning it to my mistress's biorhythms. This may take a moment." He adjusted it a tiny bit more. "There, that should do it. Now, do you have any questions while we wait?"

"What the hell are you doing, Steve?"

"Hell, yes! I have lots of questions."

"Too bad. No time for questions, no time, no time, no time." Murphy giggled. "She's already here. The Halcyon works promptly when the target is in such proximity. It's not like we're pulling someone from across the Dark Rift and through multiple dimensions-that stage magic takes forever and a day, forever and a day, I say but what's a day anyway? You know something, Trace Jackson? If it wasn't for me, she'd never have known about Earth's bounty. Yessir, I turned her on to the big blue marble's wealth of warriors. That's what turned the tide for the Suntholo. She was so pleased with this humble lamb that we copulated like rabbits under the Pillars. She wasn't fickle for this lamb's pickle with sexy tickle after sexy tickle!"

"Who was pleased with you, Steve? Who is she?" Trace asked with apprehension.

"She, who is the true power. She, who conceives my light and reason and designates a purpose to my existence. It has always been, and always will be, my mission to please my mistress!" Murphy opened his arms up to the ceiling of the chamber. "And the two shall blend as spirals of color within a faultless mineral opening the gateway to paradise!" he shouted.

A two-dimensional portrait of a tall figure swirled inside the waves of blue energy that surged over their heads. The face and form of the figure was distorted and hazy-concealed behind a barrier of rolling white mist. In a flash, the energy of the receptor conduit spread throughout the room as the blue waves extended beyond the ceiling and flowed down the walls of the chamber.

Trace watched in horror and amazement as the ambiguous humanoid, a lump in the mist, crept down the wall nearest him, only to surface from the waves as a fully formed, three-dimensional...

"Holy shit," he mumbled.

As the old woman slithered from the swelling energy of the Halcyon, her features became distinct. She wasn't a human at all, but an alien female dressed in tattered rags. She looked emaciated-skeletal in nature, old and frail with patches of ashen-white hair that blotted her misshapen head. Her cheeks were so hollow that they created shadows on either side of a rotten, cadaverous nose. Both eye sockets were empty and cavernous and burrowed deep within her skull, affecting a countenance locked in torment. Bottomless fissures crisscrossed the skin like random bolts of dark lightning. It was old, ancient skin-pale gray and dry as parchment that would crumble off her bones from the slightest puff of air. "I am Sansala Sui-Ki," she said. Her words were deliberate with a quality of decay straight from the grave. "And you..." she directed her vacant gaze at Trace who stood mesmerized by the ghastly apparition addressing him, "...why...you are my clever Talio-Sui dressed so pretty in his Galay Zeratee."

Trace was sickened by the sight of the walking corpse and could smell her putrid breath from a distance. "I...I..." he stuttered. "I take it you're responsible for all of this," he challenged her, unnerved, but determined.

"Hmm...yes, much to my delight." The corners of her mouth cracked as a leer forced its way out. "I did have assistance from your brethren here, Steven J. Murphy. It may have been his nanaharange, Widgit, who found you, but it was Murphy that fetched you to me, Talio-Sui."

Trace turned to Murphy.

"Why did you pretend not to know me?"

"I don't like you, Trace Jackson. Trust and all that poo-waddle," Murphy said with a malicious grin imprinted upon his grubby face. "I don't trust you either. You're too touchy. We don't like touchy, do we Sansala?" "Make quiet, lamb." She brandished a withered arm in Murphy's direction. "Locate the receptor I need, and you shall win your final reward."

"Oh, this is most marbled. I'm off to Tahiti! I shall find it right away!" He bulldozed his way through the cones, knocking over several as he did. "It's in here somewhere, I can smell it." Snatching up receptors left and right to examine their insides, Murphy scurried away into the crop of conduits.

"Why did you do this to me?" Trace turned his attention to the old crone.

Sansala tilted her head to one side. Trace wondered whether she could really see him, or if there was some sort of extrasensory perception that allowed her to sense his presence. Her hollow sockets locked on him in the most disturbing way. "Plurimi Sui-Za believed your unplanned existence, your misfire on Sun, to be a blessing in disguise from our Inherited Tabula Rasa," she said as she moved within reach of Trace. "That you were just another sacred warrior for the Suntholo, whether intended or not. But Plurimi was wrong. I knew the truth about you because I suffered through limitless dreams of your foul inner light." She grabbed his chin between her two bony fingers. "You are a curse on the Suntholo." The browless ridge over the holes in her skull furrowed with dismay. "Yet, you have survived the trials of the Talio-Sui. Therefore, if you wish to return home...then I shall be obliged to fetch you there. This will correct the miffled nooblie." Sansala let go of Trace, and he yanked his face away in disgust. His skin crawled, still feeling her withered fingers upon his skin.

"Huh, what-what?" Murphy popped his head out from between two oversized receptor conduits. "But I thought "

"Thinking is not your strength!" Sansala shot Murphy an evil glance. "Obeying is the skill you have mastered. Fetch my conduit and earn your prize."

The man went back to work, his head disappearing into the chaos of cones.

"You can send me back to Earth?" Trace asked with a jolt of optimism.

"Parse it whatever you wish. It does not issue in the end." The cracking lips of Sansala's tiny mouth twisted in each corner and yielded another painful smile. "What does issue is you returning to hearth and home, safe as if nothing ever happened." Somewhere in the receptor conduits, Murphy let a silly, effeminate giggle escape him, which clearly upset Sansala Sui-Ki. "Orphan!" she shouted. Murphy stifled his laughter. She turned back to Trace. "I can send you back to Earth. All you must do is place your mitt inside the Halcyon stream once the proper receptor conduit has been placed. Does this not parse for you, my brilliant Talio-Sui?"

"I won't leave without Hialeah!" he insisted.

"Calm yourself. Passage is not tendered without your treasured pedal," replied Sansala. "The Earthian ruby will be inset on your crown. I can fulfill whatever you desire." As Sansala spoke, the radiant blue waves rolling upon the ceiling began to split apart until a perfect chasm developed in the center. From this rippling crevasse, the glass orb that encased Hialeah gradually descended into the chamber.

Trace watched his beloved trapped inside the liquid cell land gently on the ground near him. The egg of glass stood on its end, and Hialeah's beautiful glossy black hair flowed around her like a luxurious veil. The Seminole's eyes remained closed but flitted back and forth underneath their lids. Trace placed his hands upon the cold glass.

"Hialeah!" he shouted, triggering her eyes to spring open. They begged for release from her purgatory of water. "Let her out!" Trace screamed to Sansala.

"Of course," Sansala said with quiet calm. "If I do, will you return home?"

"Yes!"

"Then set her free." She gestured to Hialeah. Balling his hand into a fist, Trace punched the egg with every ounce of fight left in his battered spirit. Glass exploded around him, shattering into a billion pieces, and a torrent of water poured over their feet. The rushing water pushed hundreds of receptor conduits against each wall of the chamber.

Hialeah fell into his arms. Still very weak, she looked up at Trace. "Coo-wah...chobee," she said, choking on fluid. "You have...set me free..."

Trace brushed the dripping wet hair from her haggard, yet still lovely face.

"I will never lose you again," he whispered.

***

Down the Rabbit Hole.

Moments after the Oviri landed inside the Pillars of Rak, Josette spotted the big glass egg with the dark-skinned female inside dropping down among the giant pillars a few meters away-disappearing into the shrine. She and Snow White chased after it, braving the large hole they discovered at the center of Rak. They heard voices during their decent into the depths of the ancient temple and were determined to discover their source. For whatever reason, Josette had been compelled to get to the Pillars of Rak and guessed these voices to be the means to an end-the unknown reason for her compulsion.

Hiding in the archway of the final chamber far below the surface, she watched the Suntholo's Talio-Sui carry the weakened woman, now free from the water and glass, in his arms over to the stone base where the Halcyon rested. That wretched Halcyon, she thought. Why does that damn rock always seem to be at the center of every storm?

Josette and Snow White remained hidden-watching and waiting. Soon a curious man in funny blue pajamas ambled up to the Halcyon. This strange Earthian carried a large silver funnel that he inserted into the space over the glowing cell. To their astonishment, the funnel hung in place-suspended inside a cylinder of blue light and floating above the rock of crystal. Liquid light filled the room as visions of a red sunset burned upon its ceiling.

The Talio-Sui clung to his woman while reaching out a trembling hand. Slowly and tentatively, he brought his hand closer to the pulsing stream of red energy that flowed in the space between the Halcyon and the funnel hovering above it. Josette then heard a spectral voice that sent an icy chill across her flesh.

"Very good, my cherished Talio-Sui," Sansala's baleful voice urged him, coercing the young man down a foreboding path. "Press your mitt into the crimson light as you cleave unto your Suisong, and both of you will be swept away into a realm

of unimaginable"

"Don't do it!" Josette leapt into the room.

The Talio-Sui yanked his hand away from the energy stream and gazed up at Josette with a mixture of confusion and gratitude. "Well, well, well...my missing pedal has returned to me." Sansala Sui-Ki slipped out from within the shadows. "Josette, why do you believe that which I tender him is not what he seeks?" "Because the Suntholo do not make promises which don't serve their principle," answered Josette. "What is your name, Talio-Sui?" she asked of the Earthian still cradling the motionless woman.

"Trace... Trace Jackson." Concern filled his eyes.

"Well, Trace Jackson." Josette walked over to him, never removing her stare from the Suntholian priestess. "You and your woman were about to be transported off-world, most likely to die on the inhospitable surface of a distant star. The

Suntholo are not to be trusted. Don't you realize this by now?"

"I'm not sure what happened," responded Trace. "I could see my hand moving toward the light, but I couldn't stop it."

"She has that effect on people,” replied Josette.

"You brought me back. Who are you?" Trace asked. "I am Josette Legard of Earth, and we have all been duped." Josette faced Sansala with hatred burning in her chest. "Sansala Sui-Ki, at long last, your exterior reflects the ugliness in your heart. I should have emptied your soul when I had the chance!" Josette advanced on the Suntholian. "I will beat you to a bloody pulp!"

"Strong-willed, naïve Josette, my most molly of pupils with still so much to learn." Sansala's cackling laugh was soft and sinister, her vacant eye sockets narrowing with malice. "You will never extinguish my light."

"And why won't I?" asked Josette.

"Because he will not tolerate it."

Snow White stepped out from behind Josette to stand in front of Sansala, shielding the priestess from harm.

"You must stop now, Josette," the small man ordered with a quiet, confident intensity, his silvered hand ready to fire upon Josette.

"Snow White, what are you doing?" Josette said, stunned.

"What I must do. I can't let you hurt her...for your own good." Sadness registered in Snow White's voice. "For our own good."

"But why?"

"Because she'll return us to Original Earth better than we were before. Don't you see? I can finally be what my people need me to be, a Contributor of Universal Magnitude. I can save them all of them." Snow White took a step toward Josette.

"With you by my side as my queen." "Oh, Snow," groaned Josette. "My eyes are open for the first time, but you are truly blinded. Look in your heart. You know she'll never return any of us back to where we came from. Those who live and die outside the Suntholo race are incidental. Her promises were hollow. Your people are never going see you again, and I was never to be your queen. The Suntholo have lied about everything."

"I don't believe it!" he challenged her. "She assured me."

"What Josette says is true," said Trace, still attending to his woman. "It's all clear to me now. The Suntholo are squatters on this moon. A moon that belongs to the Malsumi. These are O'dei-Malsumi temples, not Suntholian. They took it all away while the Malsumi were on Tueum to spawn. And...they're dying over there."

"The Suntholo used us to do their dirty work," Josette said. "To keep the Malsumi from getting back to Sun, to their rightful home."

A low, malevolent laugh came from behind Snow White and filled the chamber with its foulness.

"You find something funny, witch?" growled Josette.

"We could not accomplish such a marvelous affair alone," replied Sansala as she cowered in the space between the darkness and the light. "We had significant help from another."

"Tell me what vile being would assist such evil and I'll crush them!" cried Josette.

"Why," Sansala stepped forward. "It was you, dear Josette. You tendered us the Halcyon away from the Malsumi and, in turn, the Halcyon fetched..." Her crooked, skeletal finger jutted out of the shadows and pointed down to Trace. "...him."

"What the hell are they talking about?" asked Trace as he tenderly lay the unconscious female down to the floor.

"That can't be possible," said Josette. "I didn't bring him here!" "Oh, it's very possible, Mademoiselle Legard." The peculiar man in the funny blue pajamas jumped from the jumbled mass of silver funnels, tripping over several on the way over to her. "Especially in an environment where impossibility is the

mean."

He chuckled as he removed the silver funnel balanced just above the Halcyon. The red sunset on the ceiling scattered and dissolved as blue again became the prevalent hue inside the chamber.

"You see, the Halcyon was the only key potent enough to break through the conformal map and reach our Earth. Once they had their mitts on it, they could scale the dimensional fence, so to speak, and transport any Earthian warrior they

choose to Sun. Isn't it glorious?"

With no response from an audience who simply stared at him with contempt, the strange man cleared his throat and dropped the funnel to the floor.

"Yes, well, unfortunately the Malsumi got it back, stupid Widgit, so they sent Josette and her team over to Tueum to retrieve it, which they did! Therefore, Sansala is right. If it wasn't for you, Josette Legard of Earth, circa 1942, neither Trace

Jackson of 2012 nor his girlfriend of 1818 would exist on Sun. Without her, there's no you!"

He pointed

to Trace.

"That's the irony here is Schrödinger's cat dead or alive inside the box? And does the cat observe itself, or does the environment observe the cat? Get it? The cat can be both and neither until you open the box! And the Halcyon is the only

key with enough power to open the damn box."

"This guy is fucking nuts," exclaimed Trace. "Not nuts! Not nuts! Don't forget who was first to make the leap," continued the strange fellow, "I was first, always the first. Hooray for the class of sixty-seven! And with my help, the rest of my Earthian brethren joined in the crusade of the

righteous Suntholo! Conversely, after they transported Josette, they needed her to reclaim the Halcyon away from the Malsumi and bring Trace back to keep any eventuality ripples from tearing the map apart. You must cover your tracks

always. Think of it as-"

"Recompense," Trace said.

"Exactly!" the odd Earthian shouted as foamy clumps of saliva collected in the corners of his mouth. "Now that is the perfect return on investment!"

"You seem to know a lot of about us," said Josette. "But who the hell are you?" "Steven J. Murphy, Accountant, Boozer & Mills LLP of Spokane." He came at Josette. "And may I say, you're still every bit as beautiful as you were the moment you dropped from the ceiling inside this sacred chamber. Of course, you were out

cold, bleeding from just about every orifice on your body, and covered in ash, but still quite lovely."

"Steven J. Murphy," Josette snarled. "You will die very, very soon. How does that add up for you, accountant?"

"Rude, quite rude. Quite rude-beautiful, but rude..." Rejected, Murphy skittered away. "Cracks on a lamb, cracks I say..."

"Now do you see, Josette?" Snow White said in a softened tone. "We're just as responsible as the Suntholo. When we gave them back the Halcyon, we gave them back the Earth. This was a destiny of our own design. Let us embrace this gift. Return to my world and help me rebuild humanity as we envision it. We'll create paradise and rule it for time without end."

"No, Snow White," Josette replied. "The Halcyon must be destroyed. It cannot be twisted any longer, even if it means the end of us all inside this chamber."

"And who will support you in this foolishness?" Sansala's wretched voice came from all directions as the shriveled shrew had disappeared into the shadows once again. "Who will support you?"

"Carps," said Trace, stiffening his spine. "I'm all about fucking foolishness. I'll support you, Josette Legard of 1942. Let's light this candle."

"I like you, Trace Jackson of 2012." Josette smiled at him. "You have a warrior's soul. I can see it in your eyes."

"Thank-❞ Trace's voice fell silent as the barrel of an old flintlock pistol pressed against his temple. "Hell, I mus' be the luckiest summa-bitch in the universe," growled Corporal Gumpaste. "As much as I 'preciate the shiny silver fingers the Suntholo dun give me, thar ain't nuttin more grat'fyin than puttin' a big ball of lead in some idgit's skull 'specially when I be chasin' that idgit to heaven and back." He guffawed with his breath reeking of sour milk. "Good thang we stowed 'way." The grizzled soldier cut his eyes over to Snow White. "Else we'd miss out on all this fun. Ain't

that right boys?"

Three more soldiers marched into the chamber to stand side by side with Gumpaste. All three soldiers were clean shaven young men with their golden hair tucked neatly underneath the distinctive steel helmets of the vile Third Reich. In full Nazi regalia, the three men snapped the heels of their boots in crisp precision and held out their right arms in rigid salute. At the end of their arms, brilliant, silvered hands reflected the gleaming blueness of the room.

"Josette, my queen," said Snow White. "Meet the Wapigani." "Jesus Christ..." Josette felt the bile rising in her throat searing her tongue and rendering her speechless. Nazis were the last thing she expected. The blood now boiled hot through her veins. Laboring to suppress those visceral impulses to tear through everyone and rip apart everything inside the room, she forced a few strained words through her taut lips. "What...the hell...have you done?"

"What I had to do," Snow White replied. "I know those demons you're fighting to control inside you, Josette, but I can't let you destroy our only chance at paradise. And they're just an implement to get us there. You'll thank me in the long

run. Please trust me. I love you."

"The folly of all follies is to be lovesick for a shadow," Josette said with resignation. "Ah, my poor Snow White...I always knew it would come down to you and me."

"Hol' yer horses!" bellowed Gumpaste with his hand visibly shaking as he held the pistol to Trace's skull. "Don't fergit 'bout ol' Gumpaste! I want in on this."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," said Trace. "Careful with that axe, Eugene."

"Shut yer trap, traitor!" Gumpaste forced the pistol deeper into Trace's scalp. "My name ain't Eugene, and I'll have me a dang conniption if all I git to kill me is sum stupid dog."

"What did you say?" asked Trace through gritted teeth. "Yep, up top jes a little while ago. I shot a lead ball in that pointy head of his. Mangy mutt wuz callin' me Parker's posies or sum dang nonsense, so I dropped him like a petrified turd." Gumpaste hacked up a hunk of loose phlegm and spat it

to the

floor.

"You're going to die for that, old man," said Trace.

"Yeah? Is that so?" replied Gumpaste as he pulled back the firing mechanism on his pistol. "Well, you ain't goin' nowhere fast, and yer lady friend thar has had her shiny hand shut off, so who in the dang blazes is gunna kill me, smartass?"

Trace simply grinned.

"What?"

"How about one totally pissed off Seminole?" the young man said. The pointed end of a slender cone burst from the front of Gumpaste's bristly throat. Dark, bloody foam burbled from the soldier's open mouth, mixing in with his big, bushy beard and staining it brown. With a look of disbelief on his apoplectic mug, the old soldier gurgled before slumping to the floor in a rumpled heap. Behind him stood the naked woman, shivering, as she held a long silver funnel covered with blood.

"No one threatens Coo-wah-chobee. No one!" she screamed, collapsing to the floor.

Everything that followed was a blur.

As Gumpaste fell, Josette grabbed the pistol from the old man's silver hand and shot Snow White at point-blank range-nailing him through the chest. The little man flew backward and landed in a stacked pile of mismatched cones.

The flash-bang of the flintlock distracted the rest of the Wapigani long enough for Trace to hurl his body into the three of them to knock them over like smartly dressed bowling pins. Josette seized the closest Nazi, still on his hands and knees, and forced the silver fingers on his hand together to launch a ribbon of death which liquefied the head of the other dazed Nazi clambering next to them. From his knees, the third Nazi discharged his own ribbon of silver, but merely succeeded in searing the arm off his restrained comrade being used as a human shield by Josette. The Nazi's severed arm with its silvered hand dropped to the floor, and the dying soldier fell away in shock. Josette had tumbled onto her ass from the impact and was defenseless. The last Wapigani got to his feet, tugged on his jacket to straighten his uniform, and aimed his silvered hand at Josette's head. "Auf Wiedersehen," the Nazi said with a smug smile. The translator didn't translate the expression, but it didn't need to. Before he could cut her down, another ribbon of silver erupted from his chest and proceeded on the downward slice. The ribbon carved through the man's torso and exited out his groin. From the breastbone down, his remains stood upright, split in half, and connected at the top like some grotesque wishbone from the carcass of a Christmas goose. His lifeless head tipped forward, letting his steel helmet fall to the floor and bounce away to join the funnels scattered inside the chamber.

It was Snow White who saved Josette's life one last time. The little man wasn't quite dead and had pulled himself out from among the mess to bring down the Wapigani who threatened her.

"No one...will...kill Josette Legard," he moaned. "No one...but me." On his belly and bleeding from his mouth, Snow White aimed his silvered hand at Josette's heart. "The folly of all follies..." but his breathing grew more labored as he became weaker and weaker. "Is to be lovesick..." Snow White lowered his weapon and lay his head down on his arm, dying from his injury.

"I'm very sorry, little king." Josette crawled over to him and caressed the back of his bald head. "This was not my plan." She wept for her friend.

"Josette," Trace called to her. "I can't wake Hialeah up."

She looked back to see Trace cradling Hialeah in his arms again. He had already removed the coat off a dead Nazi to cover the woman's nude body.

"May you find warmth and awareness in your new days." Josette kissed Snow White on his head, wiped her eyes, and got up to go see what could be done to help those still among the living. "She's still breathing," she said with relief. After checking the carotid artery on Hialeah's neck, she found it pulsing in steady, vigorous successions. "This one has a strong heart." Josette smiled at Trace to comfort him. "She'll be okay."

"We've got to get her out of here," said Trace.

"Not until we destroy the Halcyon." Josette reached over to pick up the detached arm of the dead Nazi. "I can use this to detonate it."

"An arm

stump?"

"Not just a stump, but a weapon. Connect the thumb and pinkie, and it will tear this room apart-the Halcyon along with it." Josette saluted him with the disembodied arm. "We'll only have about twenty seconds to make it out, but that

should be enough. I can use another arm stump to make a protective energy field by touching these two fingers." She indicated the proper digital combination to generate a protective bubble around them. "These things are quite useful." "But we don't know how the Halcyon will react to the explosion," declared Trace. "The Talio-Sui delivers a parcel marbled both honest and true." Sansala's voice had been exhumed from the shadows as the priestess slithered back into the room with a cringing Murphy close behind. Murphy clutched the Halcyon against his sunken chest as an overprotective mother would hold her sickly newborn. "He accepts the power of the Halcyon and is wise enough to understand that destroying it will alter this reality forever." Her hollowed, empty eye sockets focused in on

Josette. "You have accomplished nothing, precious Josette."

"Sansala Sui-Ki..." Josette rose to her feet. "Why won't you melt away as your Wafi have done?" "You idiot, I do not need those simpering Wafi any longer!" Sansala crowed. "With the Halcyon, I can fetch any warrior I require from Earth or anywhere else in the multiversity. I will transport them over and over until the Malsumi, and all who

support the Malsumi, submit to my order, and the moon called Sun is mine. I will become more powerful than even Rasa a whole new breed of deity!"

"You mean this was all for nothing?" Trace said as he stood.

"Just for you, my emasculated Talio-Sui!" Sansala held her arms aloft to the ceiling. "The Suntholo were slow to comprehend the nuances of Malsumian technology, but after trial and error, we have gotten most tight with it. My analysis has

given me greater insight into the best warrior cultures of all the incorporated clusters." She looked down at them with her dark cavities as big as any crater on Sun. "And your Earth is at the pinnacle!" The Suntholian's ancient, ashy face, drained of all color and life, turned to Murphy. "Show them, my lamb." Murphy set the Halcyon back onto the stone pedestal and carefully rotated it counterclockwise three times. After the series of rotations were completed, the man touched both ends of the cool, blue cell in separate succession-one end he tapped twice with a thumb and the other end he tapped with his middle finger. Again, he turned the Halcyon three more revolutions, but in the opposite direction as the first. As he looked to the ceiling, Murphy tapped his nose and chin with a

single finger before laying his right palm upon the Halcyon.

The man's eyes were flooded with the bright blue power of the quaking, shuddering cell, and his teeth chattered as a vibration grew from deep within the Halcyon. This unusual vibration was accompanied by a low frequency hum, and the two events escalated until they practically shook the cell from its perch. Every silver cone scattered about the room clattered and clanged-jumping in place, some falling off shelves and others tipping over onto their side. The intense humming

from the Halcyon raised several octaves as the volume surged to deafening levels. Josette and Trace covered their ears to block out the painful noise, but Sansala and Murphy never flinched. They remained fixated on the Halcyon, which pulsed and danced underneath the weight of Murphy's glowing right hand. The blood- red birthmark upon the Suntholian's shriveled forearm was squirming and spinning as it did before, when entering the outer doorway of Sui' Mon. A violent crescendo was building that would be the demise of all inside Rak.

Yet...the vibration stopped, and the horrible hum fell silent. Murphy snatched his hand away just as an intense cylinder of warm, yellow light emerged from the Halcyon and lingered a meter high from the top of the cell. The unusual Earthian man pulled out a tiny silver funnel the size of a thimble from

his pajama pocket and held it between his thumb and forefinger. "Hold!" Sansala kept Murphy from advancing any further. "In his feeble mitt he holds the smallest receptor conduit in the assemblage. Yet, this tiny conduit wields the greatest power," Sansala reveled in her explanation. "With it, I will reach across the conformal map and seize the apex soldiers of Earth. I have sampled some of your Nazis, and what a punctual, obedient lot they shine. I salivate with expectations of such an untapped market your Earth must be. Who should I sample

next? Maybe some...Spartans?" No sooner had she said it than a marching throng of Spartan warriors appeared in the bright yellow energy above the Halcyon. The men stood shoulder to shoulder in a standard phalanx formation, forming an impenetrable wall of polished

bronze, broad shields, and sharpened lances.

"They would make for a formidable sight on any battlefield. Or the Vikings perhaps quite bold from what I have observed." A new image appeared of robust Scandinavian warriors aboard a Viking longship. The longship bore the head of a dragon on her bow as she crested a massive wave. The steely-eyed crew wore long blond braids of hair that whipped against

their backs from the strong ocean wind.

"Very brave, do you not think?" Sansala continued her tour. "Let us not overlook the Mongols, who launched invasion forces in every direction on your planet-talk about a motivated lot!"

The Halcyon's energy matched her word for word, supplying them with visions of Earthian history rich with the essence of warfare. "Your empty nanaharange here," Sansala pointed to the corpse of Snow White, "told me wonderful stories of a

massive legion called the Ginnungap that slaughtered many..."

"A kid in a candy store," Trace whispered to Josette.

"Where is this going, defiled priestess?" Josette halted the spectacle.

"Josette Legard..." Sansala's shadowy sockets narrowed in annoyance. "Pragmatic to the end, is she not? Molly, I will parse it to you in bite-size morsels, so even an Earthian can follow. I have a tighter pedal in mind for my next purchase_

something for the Talio-Sui to swallow whole. It will be a surprise more personal in nature, and all courtesy of my sweet Josette." Sansala motioned to Murphy, who placed the thimble-sized conduit into the cylinder of Halcyonic light. The little funnel, suspended inside the energy, harnessed the entire force of the large cell and fused it into a fine stream that burned into the ceiling. The directed energy filled the ceiling until it flowed down the walls and bathed the room with its outpouring of yellow power.

The walls came alive with moving pictures of a tribal people wearing animal skin garments. Each member of the tribe was adorned with a variety of strings laced with colorful beads. These dark-skinned Earthians were recognizable to Josette,

but she couldn't quite place them...except that they looked like... Hialeah.

"Seminole," Trace said softly. "And not just any...my Seminole."

"You know these natives?" Josette asked him while watching the Seminole pop in and out of the Halcyon's field.

"I see Micco Opa sitting before the fire in his chickee and puffing away on his old, wooden pipe." Trace's voice was saturated in melancholy. "I see Brave Bear casting his line into the ocean to catch some raro. I gave him that fishing pole. Those

people saved me. I became one of them...and I see them all."

"Of course, you see them," Sansala said, cackling. "The Seminole are marbled warriors, and I will fetch them all if necessary, including your precious female here, and any of your wretched descendants. I will unearth them across the galactic

dimensions and through all points of time!"

"You bitch," Josette

growled.

"And after I transport them to Sun," Sansala said, ignoring the insult, "they will perish before your windows like the rest of the orphans of the clusters!"

"Coo-wah-chobee?" Hialeah had reawakened, still very weak. "Trace?"

Trace looked at Josette with eyes of unwavering strength of spirit. Josette thought them handsome and strong. "Protect Hialeah for me," he said.

"What do you mean?" asked Josette as Sansala laughed in a feverish

way.

"What is this place?" Hialeah said. "Why do I see my tribe upon the walls?"

"You must protect her." Trying to be discreet, he glanced down at the severed arm Josette clutched in her hand. "The two of you must survive this. I made a promise."

"Yes...yes, I will protect her, Trace Jackson," Josette knelt next to Hialeah, who had managed to sit upright. "With everything in my soul. I promise as well."

Trace knelt to kiss Hialeah on her open mouth. Without lingering on her lips for so long that he might change his mind, he rose to his feet and moved toward the Halcyon. The rock was still glowing with pure power upon the stone pedestal in

the center of the chamber.

"What is he doing?" Hialeah stared up at Josette with panic in her dark eyes.

"There is nothing he can do, you empty crack," replied Sansala. "He is powerless to stop the will of Rasa!"

As Trace advanced on the Halcyon, Murphy ran to intercept him. Sansala's arrogance didn't allow her to sense the threat, but Murphy certainly did. The unremarkable man in his baby blue pajamas stepped up with clinched fists, attempting to

"I'll kill you, friend!" shrieked Murphy, attempting an unwieldy swing of his fist. Trace ducked underneath it with no trouble at all. "Fear the bee's stinger, you filthy swine!"

keep Trace away from the pulsating cell.

"Josette, if you wouldn't mind," Trace said with cool nonchalance.

A dazzling silver ribbon sailed over Trace's shoulder and struck Murphy, reducing his head to a fine powder of bloody dust. The man's headless body fell backward into the thick vapor that had blanketed the chamber floor.

Trace looked behind to Josette, who stood with the disembodied silver hand trained in his direction. "Thanks," he said.

"With pleasure," she replied.

Trace grabbed the cell off its pedestal and hoisted it high over his head. The thimble-sized receptor tumbled to the floor and rolled away, and the images of Earth dissipated.

"Now Josette!" he commanded her.

"No, my love!" screamed Hialeah. "Please do not!"

***

Josette brought the cold silver fingers of the detached Wapigani hand together to generate a perfect sphere of protection around Hialeah and herself. She heard the muffled wail of Sansala Sui-Ki through the bubble, "Rasa...elp...eeee!" and

saw the priestess's hideous face elongate with horror as Trace smashed the Halcyon against the floor.

A supernova of light, absent of sound, devoured everything outside their little bubble of safety. The barrage of heat carpeted her flesh, and the extreme vacuum of escaping air pushed against their bodies through the transparent shield. Yet

their protection held. And from inside her rippling sphere, Josette watched the distorted violence envelop the ancient Malsumian temple until it vanished from the moon called Sun-evaporated, as if it never existed in the first place.

All was silent for a long, long time.

***

The light stung Josette's eyes when they finally surfaced from the wreckage and ruin. It took backbreaking effort, but the two battered women had clawed their way out of the underground tomb.

There was nothing left down below-all was destroyed by the Halcyon's explosion. The outside burned, and she had to shield her eyes from the sun, but at least the air up here was fresh. Fresh? Josette's lungs drank in the clean air, refilling

them with new life.

"Why do my eyes burn?" asked Hialeah. The Seminole was on her knees, dirty, bloody, and half-naked, dressed only in a Nazi jacket.

"I don't know," replied Josette as she wiped the dirt from her eyes. "There isn't light anywhere in this godforsaken-" her vision cleared, and she was stunned at what she saw around them. "Merde." They were sitting in the middle of an expansive glen full of long, pale green grass bending sideways in a soft breeze. It was a glen perched high atop rocky cliffs towering over a snow-white beach below. The beach, pure and pristine, sloped

into a vast ocean of foamy pink water. Dual suns were setting on the horizon, turning the sea of pink to a burnt orange. And three irregular moons poked through a denim canvas of dark blue sky on the opposite side of this bizarre, but

breathtaking

landscape.

"The City in the Sky." Hialeah laid a hand on Josette's shoulder. She drew in a deep breath. "It even smells like paradise."

"I don't know about that," muttered Josette. A large, birdish creature flew in lazy circles above them. As she stood up, the bird flew off into a nearby patch of tall trees dappled with assorted colors. The soaring trees flourished within a lush

forest quilted of light and shadow. "Smells like something entirely different, that's for damn sure."

"Where there is life, there is hope," Hialeah said with optimism in her eyes.

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

"My people can survive anywhere." Hialeah smiled, her pearly white teeth shining through her dirt-covered face. "It is good, this is not a swamp. I do not like swamps."

"Indeed." Despite the aches and pains, Josette reached down to help her new friend up off her knees. "Who better to be stranded with on a strange planet than you, eh?"

Hialeah winced as she stood.

"He saved my people," she said. "Coo-wah-chobee...I mean Trace. He fulfilled the Breathmaker's promise."

"Trace saved a lot of people, including us," replied Josette. "Now, let's get you something warm to wear and find us something to eat. I'm hungry."

"I am happy he still lives within my belly."

"He'll live within your baby too. We won't be lonely, that's for sure." Josette put Hialeah's arm around her shoulder to help her limp along. "Has anyone ever told you, you smell good?"

י

"Perhaps," Hialeah answered through a giggle.

The women hobbled off to begin a new life together on an alien planet somewhere in the cosmos.

***

Day Is Done, Gone the Sun, from the Earth, from the Hill, from the Sky...

Pushing her toes deeper into the soft sugar sand, Hialeah rested on the beach and nursed their son, Little Panther. A light breeze from the ocean blew through her hair, and it felt wonderful. She listened to the surf and watched Josette frolic in

the warm, pink water of

the

alien sea. Josette's nude body was bronzed all over. In fact, Josette was almost as dark as she, and her tanned skin was most amazing next to her silver hand. Hialeah loved the way Josette's hand shimmered from

the twin suns. This was good magic, and it made the baby laugh. Little Panther sucked hard at her nipple and Hialeah jumped. The baby boy was energetic and possessed a strong appetite. She liked it that way. No, she loved it...she loved Little

Panther...just as

she loved his father.

Although

not a complete

one.

they had managed to make a fine life together on this unknown planet, there was something missing-he was missing. And while the three of them had become a devoted family, Hialeah's heart forever reminded her that they were

At long last, Josette got out from the water. She tromped up the beach to Hialeah and flopped down in the sand next to her. "Thinking about Trace again, aren't you?" she said.

"How did you know?" asked Hialeah.

"I've seen that look a million times." Josette rolled over onto her back to catch a little bit of the late day suns on her pregnant belly. Yet, it was so coated in white sand that sunlight would not penetrate through to the skin.

"I miss him," Hialeah said.

"I know you do." Josette wiped the sand from her stomach and closed her eyes to nap. "I wish I could take that pain from you." She kept on rubbing her big belly even after the absence of sand.

"How is she today?" Hialeah asked.

"Very active,” replied Josette. "She's a fighter, that's for sure."

"Good."

"You're still sure it's a girl?" Josette looked over to her.

"Yes, very

sure." Hialeah smiled.

"Good," Josette said with a sigh. "Snow would have wanted a girl, a healthy girl."

A loud,

menacing

howl wailed in the distance.

"We must go inside now." Hialeah's voice trembled with a nervous edge. "The Night Dragons have awakened early."

"Damn." Josette jumped up and brushed herself off. "So much for my nap. The suns are still up. Something must have spooked them."

"Sorry." Hialeah handed the baby to Josette. "I do love to watch you nap but would hate to watch you be devoured." She got up, wiping the sand from her bare bottom.

A flock of plump, scaly osprey burst from the ocean waves and flew off in a hurry.

"Hmmm, the Fish Eagles are acting

a bit cagey as well," observed Josette.

"Something strange is in the

air

"Then we should get the hell

out of here, before something—"

today, Josette," said Hialeah as she took Little Panther and held him close to her heart.

A strong blast of warm air rushed over them. The blast of air was followed by the loud thrusts of powerful engines. Hialeah clutched Little Panther even tighter to her breast and backed away from the commotion.

the Oviri!" Above them hovered the stout little whale of a spacecraft Hialeah envisioned in her dreams. With all the natural grace of a living being, the Oviri landed on the beach not far

Hialeah wanted to take a step forward, but Josette grabbed her arm to hold her back. "We don't know who's piloting her," she said.

"Look Hialeah!" shouted Josette, pointing to the sky. "It's

from where the naked humans watched in amazement.

The Oviri farted a

jet

incline, but no one emerged from the ship.

of indignant vapor, as if annoyed the journey had ended. From under the ship's belly, a thin metal ramp extended down and sent up a plume of sand as it hit the beach below. There was movement of shadows on the

"If Sansala Sui-Ki comes out of that damn thing, Rasa help me, I'll fucking explode." Josette glowered.

"Do not

say such things," said Hialeah.

But out of the Oviri, a big red dog with a wagging tail raced down the ramp to greet them-his long tongue slapping against his cheeks as he ran.

"Mama!" The dog barked as

he rushed to Hialeah.

"Skiff!" Hialeah bent down to

let

the jubilant effa lick her face.

"Did that dog just say mama?" asked

Josette.

"Yes!" Hialeah laughed. "Our translators work for him as well. Is it not wonderful?"

"Small man, small man!" Skiff dragged his wide, flat tongue over the head of Little Panther, who giggled with glee.

"I thought he was dead." Josette knelt to stroke the dog's pointed head.

"He's far from dead, Josette," said a masculine voice behind them.

They looked up from their reunion with Skiff. On the ramp of the Oviri, with the light from inside the spacecraft creating a halo of whiteness around his body, Trace Jackson stood tall and handsome. He was dressed in a form-fitting outfit of

black with a striking crescent of dark blue across his muscular chest. He was magnificent.

"Coup de foudre," Josette declared, but Hialeah's translator failed to capture the emotion.

Hialeah rose to her feet. After handing Little Panther to Josette, she bolted into the arms of her beloved Coo-wah-chobee. He had returned to her after all. "I thought I had lost you forever," she cried. During their prolonged embrace, her tears

soaked deep into the

fabric

of his

clothing.

"I told you, Pretty Prairie," he

whispered into her ear. "I won't lose you ever again."

They shared a lingering kiss, both

profound and passionate. It was a kiss to compensate for all those days of missed affection.

After they separated, Hialeah ran back to Josette for Little Panther. "Meet your son, Little Panther," she said, smiling through her tears of joy.

"My son?" Clearly astounded, Trace took the baby boy in his arms and caressed the top of his smooth, bald head. "My son!" He beamed with pride. "He's so perfect. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Would it have changed

anything?"

head,

He shook his

looking momentarily saddened. But his face lit up again as he hugged Little Panther. "I have a son, a beautiful son." He kissed Little Panther's head. "Why does his head smell like ass?"

"Sorry," barked Skiff, his bushy tail still wagging.

Little Panther babbled happy gibberish that their translators had no way of interpreting. Not something so unique, a language all to its own.

"How is this possible?" Josette appeared sorry to interrupt their intimacy.

Trace handed Little Panther back to Hialeah, so that he could hug Josette into him. She resisted at first, but soon surrendered into his chest.

"I'm so happy to see you, Josette," said Trace. He placed a hand over the protruding navel on her rounded belly. "How did this happen?"

"Snow White was a contributor of universal magnitude after all." Josette smiled down at her pregnant body. "Trace Jackson," she looked up at him. "I've got so many questions."

"That's our Josette Legard of Earth circa 1942," he laughed, "pragmatic to the end."

"Wasn't Skiff shot through the head

by the

old soldier, Gumpaste?"

"That was a cheeky lie!" From the Oviri,

a roly-poly beast with a great ball of beaded fish eggs tacked to the top of its blubbery starfish body hurled itself down the ramp. The creature then somersaulted its way over to Trace.

"Allow me to introduce you ladies to Widgit," Trace said, smiling. "She's a gynoid."

"The most excellent gynoid in the multiversity!" Widgit twirled and slapped several fat tentacles together. "I can explain the mutt sitch. When I ran...I mean when I exited the temple to do some recon around the Pillars, that mangy Moofty

came

after me!"

"Sorry, Widgit," barked Skiff.

"Whatever. Along came that old fuzz in the grimy uniform who almost tripped over my beautiful feelers. Yeah sure, the fuzz took a shot at Skiff, but he missed by a moon! And even as I was cloaked, this drooling talliwonker could smell my

distinctive pheromones. He chased me around the Divinity's Eye and back. When the Halcyon was destroyed and the Suntholo lost their control over him, he returned to his normal, irritating, slobbering self."

"Widgit sucks!" Skiff seemed elated to be a part of the conversation.

"Why you " Widgit shook with annoyance.

pilot,"

added Trace.

"Widgit's also our

"The most skilled pilot in all the clusters," the gynoid declared, puffing up.

"And the only one small enough to fit into the Oviri's modified cockpit," said Trace, laughing. "The thing must have been designed by a midget."

"Hey!" Josette

replied

and Widget rattled.

The baleful howl of the Night Dragons grew closer and more urgent. "I think it's time we left," said Hialeah, taking Trace by the arm.

"Do you have anything

to

bring

with

you?"

asked Trace.

The deafening wail came from over the rise just beyond the dunes of the beach.

"No," the women answered in unison.

Without further delay, everyone ran onboard the Oviri, with Skiff bringing up the rear. Soon, they were fastened into place inside the main compartment of the little whale. Above them and nestled into the navigator's chair, Widgit launched the

Oviri off the beach. The cruiser sped into space, away from the voracious Night Dragons and away from the unknown planet that had been their home for so many long months.

***

"Coo-wah-chobee," said Hialeah, sitting next to Trace. Little Panther was swaddled in a soft, warm blanket and dozed on her lap. Hialeah and Josette had also been wrapped in warm coverings and given a strong dose of sedies to quiet their

nerves for the trip home. Skiff had settled onto the floor at Trace's feet and was snoring in blissful ignorance. "I was so afraid you perished down there," Hialeah said, finishing her thought.

"Not at all," he replied. "After the Halcyon exploded, I was ejected to Tueum and discovered by the Malsumi...along with the decaying Suntholian priestess known as Sansala Sui-Ki. We were both in bad shape, but the Malsumi took great care

nursing

me

back

to

health."

"Trace

the temple. It was

a master stroke!"

organized the Malsumi," rattled Widgit from the captain's chair above them, "and launched a massive assault on Sui'Mon, using stolen T-visors. They squished in, disguised as Suntholo, and passed right by the auto-defenses to overrun

"Well, automated defensive turrets can be very flawed." Trace flashed a mischievous grin. "And the intel we obtained from Sansala Sui-Ki was most useful."

hope you tortured her," said Josette from the chair on Trace's other side.

"I

"I had no other choice." He

frowned. "Any surviving Suntholo were forced into exile. The rest of the galactic orphans could leave or live peacefully among us on Sun or even Tueum if they wanted. Most chose to stay, because where the hell

would they

go-especially since the Halcyon doesn't exist anymore? Reality is what it is."

"Well, it sounds like you got everything under control while we were stuck in paradise." Josette said with remorse. "Sorry I missed out on all the fun."

"Well, not entirely," responded Trace. "There are a few remaining pockets of resistance still loyal to the Suntholian cause, and they really piss me off at times."

"Misguided knob-knockers clinging to the empty promises of the nonexistent Tabula Rasa," Widgit chimed in from above.

"Some Mooftys will never learn." Again, Trace grinned at Josette. "I could really use an expert trained in the nuances of resistance warfare."

"Mr. Jackson," Josette said, smiling up at him, "you know resistance is my specialty. After a bit of maternity leave, I'm your woman."

"Yes, you are."

He laughed.

"But tell me, what happened to the Sui priestess?" asked Josette.

"Sansala was eaten by a Carnilogos," he answered. "Every last morsel of her."

"Was she trying to escape?" asked Josette.

"No," he said.

"Executed."

"A just outcome, I must parse." Josette chuckled and closed her eyes.

"Anyway, we spent most of our time looking for the two of you...well, the four of you is more accurate, I guess." Trace stroked Little Panther's head again. "The Halcyon explosion had ejected you to this small, unfamiliar cluster. Luckily it was

close enough to track your residual bioforms..." He let his explanation trail away when he realized both women on either side of him were nodding off as the sedies kicked in. Little Panther was already out cold. "You know what? We can get

into all that

later."

"I love you, Coo-wah-chobee." Hialeah was fighting off her impending sleep.

"I will love you, Pretty Prairie, until the end of time." He kissed her forehead.

"What about Josette?" whispered

Hialeah.

"What do you

mean?"

"Well, she is

my tribe now and will be our tribe as we

come together. Her child will be our child." Hialeah presented a sleepy grin. "Can you handle that?"

"Good night, nurse," he

answered. "I'll give it my

best

shot."

Josette cracked her

eyelids open. "I don't think you can handle it," she said, sounding quite drowsy.

"I will love her and

her

baby with

all

my heart." Brushing a loose wisp of auburn hair away from her eyes, Trace kissed Josette on her forehead as well.

"Kiss me when I'm

asleep one more

time, and I'll break your jaw." Josette went back to sleep with her head resting on his shoulder.

"She'll definitely be a challenge," he said,

laughing softly.

"Our family is complete." Hialeah gazed into his eyes.

"I want

you

to

have something." Trace held out a clenched fist.

"What is it?" She

brightened.

Trace

opened his fist, and in the palm of his hand lay the string of pure white beads. The same string Hialeah had given him that night by the Gulf of Mexico. "This necklace embodies the promise of our new life, and it would mean more to

have it around your neck rather than my own." She smiled as he tied it around her lovely, bronzed neck. "We'll start you a new collection."

so very happy again." Hialeah breathed deep. "Thank you Coo-wah..." she murmured and drifted off into a tranquil slumber.

I bargained for." Trace glanced over at the two women sleeping against him. They were both so beautiful, so strong...He shook his head and smiled. "I can handle it."

crowned Emperor by the Malsumi," Widgit rattled quietly. "I mean, there's a hero's welcome waiting for us back on Sun. I can already feel the masses piping for our safe return."

"I am

"This is so much

more than

"Carps, wait until they

find

out

you

were

"Yes, well..." Trace looked down at

his

sleeping child, Little Panther. "We'll let that

be our little surprise."

"Your call, you sly hugger-mugger,"

said

Widgit,

Oviri would be embraced as Contributors of Universal

Magnitude.

The multitudes would pipe and clap and cheer

thrusting a feeler deep into the flight pocket and pushing the ship even faster through the cosmos. They were finally winding their way back to the moon called Sun, where every soul inside the

in jubilation for their safe return. The celebrations on both celestial bodies of Sun and Tueum would be full of radiant euphoria and boisterous in delight.

Once again, the O'dei-Malsumi could birth their podlings and kibbutz with their ancestors. These glorious events were all courtesy of the brave galactic orphans from the Tertian cluster. And though they would never make it back to Earth, they

still made it home.

The End