GeneStorm: City in the Sky Page 8

  “Some great guys whom I met out on the trail – surely.” Samuels regarded the shark with a considering eye. “Really young lady – this sort of diction won’t do!”

  “Oh fer…”

  “There are several good qualities one should value in a ward! Excellent diction, sharp wits and a vicious right-hook definitely head the list. But diction first!”

  The shark smoothed her pelisse, muttering beneath her breath. “Godfish. The post apocalypse happened, and only the grammar Nazis survived.”

  Toby dusted off the veranda table. “Well, they’re like gull-roaches. Damned hard to kill!” The old dog limped. It took a moment for Kitterpokkie to realise that the man had a metal peg-leg. He clumped rapidly back inside. “Tea! Sit down, everyone. Get the weight off!”

  The shark girl tromped up to the veranda. She sailed her helmet over onto a spare chair, sent her frogged jacket to join it, and unhooked her sweaty cuirass. “I’ll get the saddle off Onan. We found two motorcycle hub motors – good condition! Looks like we can clean ‘em up just fine. Oh, and some seeds for a sort of banana melon. We should try them in the garden. They tasted great!”

  Samuels indulgently watched her go, then welcomed Kitterpokkie and

  Throckmorton up onto the veranda. Throckmorton settled happily in a hammock, while the others disported themselves in old string chairs. Uncle Toby brought out an antique teapot and a bizarre collection of mismatched cups, along with cocoplod milk, chipped sugar and a bowl full of insect sticks and Eccles cakes. Snapper immediately thieved two cakes and stuffed one into her mouth, crunching through the pastry. She urged a cake upon Kitterpokkie, eagerly inviting her to tuck in.

  “Flies’ graveyards! Finest kind!”

  “Flies?” The mantis inspected the cake with scholarly thoroughness. They were clearly sweet, and the contents appeared to be a sort of fruit. “A sweet insect hybrid?”

  “No no, just currants. But we’ve always called them that. It irritates Samuels!”

  Toby’s Eccles cakes were Snapper’s favourite treat, and the tea was truly excellent. Spark Town’s tea plantations were the glory of the age, with hybridised plants that were extremely well behaved. They stampeded out of their corrals only once or twice a year, but never during festivals. Kitterpokkie sipped a fine green tea – part tea, part grapefruit, part ginger – and felt herself settling deep, deep down into her chair.

  Throckmorton did not drink tea – but there was an excellent flat beer that plant guests always enjoyed. He sat his bottom roots in the stuff and crumbled an insect stick, passing morsels up into his many toothy little mouths. Uncle Toby made certain everyone was watered and fed – Onan was cracking giant conker nuts happily in the barn. It was a wonderfully peaceful afternoon.

  “And so my dear Kitterpokkie?” Samuels tested to make quite certain his pronunciation was correct. “You have come to join us here? Are you a salvage expert? A delver after ancient knowledge?”

  “A discoverer, I hope, sir! An innovator... and a scholar.” The mantis accepted more of the excellent tea. “I do hope we are not imposing. Jemi… ah, that is to say, Snapper, has been our companion in the wilds these last few days, and helped us all survive the most frightful dangers. She invited us to stay while we plan another expedition.”

  “An expedition!” Toby was exceedingly keen. The wall behind him held a rough hand drawn map marked with cryptic symbols denoting rumours, sites and strikes. “You guys are from down south? That’s thick terrain down in those forests. Could be lots of sites there. It’s a world of discovery.” The old dog sighed and looked to the north. “But across the barrier. That’s where you young folks should be looking.”

  Kitterpokkie immediately brightened. “Well as it so happens…!”

  “As it so happens…!” Snapper hastened to plug Kitterpokkie’s mouth with another Eccles cake. “As it so happens, we have some brilliant leads for some sites in the south west!”

  Samuels flicked a dire glance towards Snapper. “South west? South west, indeed?” He pointed a feathered finger at Snapper’s nose. “You promised! No more heading north, young lady! Keep away from those damned cliffs! The radiation is far too deadly.”

  The dog jacked up in his seat in triumph.

  “You’re tryin’ the barrier! You’re tryin’ it again! That’s my girl! That’s the spirit!” Uncle Toby pounded the table in enthusiasm, setting Eccles cakes dancing. “So what’ve you got? A lead on a new pass? Gotta warn you, Miss Mantis, the radiation’s damned thick. It can fry you like a steak!”

  The raven rolled his eyes and looked up at the ceiling beams.

  “We have been through all of this before! The radiation band is utterly unbroken. It’s impossible to come within ten kilometres of those cliffs.” Samuels heaved a sigh. “We have already discussed this. Those hills are all feral territories now. Too dangerous. Too dangerous by far!”

  Toby pointed to the maps. “But to the east…!”

  “Nothing comes out of the east. No water, and more sand that anyone can cross.” Samuels clearly had been through the argument a thousand times. “Diminishing returns! You have to take a pack animal loaded with water to support a rider. And another pack animal to carry water for the pack animal. And another one for that animal. And another, and another, and another...”

  Uncle Toby locked nose to beak with Samuels. “But we could spend a season going in there and making supply dumps! Two seasons…!”

  “There’s something out there.” The lawyerly Samuels tried to drive his point home by wagging a feathery finger. “Nothing comes back out of the sands once it goes in.”

  “Oh, that’s just sand sharks!”

  “It’s more than just sand sharks!” Samuels had to raise his voice as Toby’s volume increased. “Nothing is coming back! So that means bio weapon residue, or radioactive dust…”

  “Or ghosts? Or robot monsters?” Toby waved the man away. “Our girl just cut her bloody way clean through the wilds! Don’t waffle on about ghosts!”

  The two old men seemed to be about to launch into a long-running argument. Kitterpokkie raised one finger and managed to interject.

  “Sirs! I do indeed have a few concepts – a few potential ideas. With the correct equipment and the help of dear Throckmorton, I believe that we can penetrate through the radiation zone. And we shall certainly be looking to the north cliffs. That is clearly the point of interest.”

  The two old men were clearly interested. Deeply interested. Samuels carefully looked to the maps.

  “If it could be done… North over the barrier...” Samuels’ voice was full of awed memory. “The gateway to another world. Stunning. Quite stunning.”

  “You have been across the barrier, sir?”

  “I have. We were there…. Twenty six years ago – the year before the big quake closed the pass.” Samuels sank back into his chair. “We found a way through the radiation belt – one slender strip that could be crossed if one moved swiftly. Tobias, Walker, Sarah Greyfin and I.”

  Uncle Toby sat back next to Samuels and remembered with him, side by side.

  “We climbed up that pass…. What for an entire day? Finally surfaced above the cliffs in the darkness. But what a dawn, what a dawn….”

  “Magnificent!” Samuels laced his hands across his breast. “Everything different. Every plant, every tiny insect. Even the scent of the air.”

  Uncle Toby leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

  “We came across a rise, and there it was – a whole city overgrown with trees. Perfectly still and quiet; the air filled with butterflies. Emerald green plants all growing from the buildings… And at the centre of it all, a pure, still lake. Skyscrapers jutting up out of the water, sparkling in the sun. And when we rode into some of those outer streets, it was so lush that it was like walking through a vast green, golden cave…”

  “It stunned the soul.” Samuels sighed. “An infinite world is out there, if we can only reach out to find it.”

  Uncle To
by heaved a sigh.

  “All we could bring back were a few pack animals’ worth of salvage. But that salvage made the generators that make this town run. Silver. Mercury. Antibiotic dust. Drill bits and tools that never need sharpening. Got this town on its feet.” Toby gave a sigh. “We saw other things too. Legends come to life.”

  “Yes.” Samuels’ voice had taken on its dry tone once again. “In any case, we came home with treasure. But then the great quake came, and the radioactive dust all moved. The Skull-Biter ferals came to attack the town full force. Two year campaign – we lost Sarah and Walker. So when we finally came back to find the old pass, well, radiation. Dust had rolled over the whole zone. Birds wouldn’t come within ten kilometres of that pass. The ground was absolutely deadly.”

  The raven heaved a sigh.

  “But! If you have new ideas, then may the Sky-Ones bless you!”

  The floating plant swivelled several of his heads about to beam at one and all.

  “Throckmorton shall help.”

  “Indeed you shall, my friend.” Kitterpokkie dusted herself of crumbs. “All problems can be overcome! We need merely apply motivation, inspiration, tools and talent!”

  They idled for a while. Over at the stables, Onan noisily enjoyed a large bird bath. The cockatoo squawked and screeched in enjoyment, rolling over and over and splashing merrily away. He finally emerged to shower the yard with droplets, deluging the party on the veranda. The newly clean bird came trotting over and thieved an Eccles cake, regarding the assembled explorers with a bright, cunning eye.

  Snapper recounted her first encounter with the Screamers, her eyes alight and fangs a-gleam as she described her sabre charge. She spoke of the harrowing Screamer attack against the caravan – the firing line and the mighty bomb. Uncle Toby and Samuels both leaned forward, listening closely. Toby was delighted by the details of the defence – firing lines, mounted attacks and the bomb itself. Samuels took thoughtful notes in a notebook made by Spark Town’s little paper maker, the crow making sure all the details were exact.

  “The group that attacked the wagons. Would that have accounted for the full number of husks that you saw at the site of the demolished cocoplod herd?”

  “It looked like it. I’d say we were attacked by a hundred.” Snapper looked to Throckmorton for confirmation. “We got them all.”

  “Might there have been more in the area? A second pack?”

  “No.” Snapper vividly remembered the single dust cloud closing fast from behind the wagon train. “I think every Screamer in the area was drawn to that wagon train. They came straight on – literally in a frenzy. Full speed! Just – just totally insane!”

  Samuels was intrigued.

  “But why were the cocoplods being driven north east? Who stole the damned things in the first place? You saw no sign of dead rustlers when you found the herd?”

  “Nope. Just cocoplod corpses.”

  “And you saw the caravan’s campfires – and so managed to save them all.” Samuels shook his head, then finished a last note in his book. “We’ll organise a town meeting, after the council has discussed this. We might need to begin aggressive patrols.” He looked thoughtfully at Snapper. “We may need to raise that full-time cavalry troop after all.”

  Snapper stretched, tired and ready to rest. She waved her hands, explaining matters to Throckmorton and Kitterpokkie.

  “Samuels is one fifth of the town council. Twenty percent of the government.”

  “Indeed!” The mantis was suitably impressed. “And you are also still an explorer – a prospector, sir? Do you still get out into the wilds?”

  “Not often in this day and age, my dear. I am much engaged with attempting to educate the town. There is a school to run, and artefacts to examine and classify.”

  “And you, mister Toby.” Kitterpokkie looked at the crusty old dog. “So you are a prospector?”

  “I don’t travel far, love! Not these days!” The old dog stamped his metal peg leg against the floor. “Not unless I ride!”

  “Ah!” The mantis looked at the man’s leg in concern. “Do forgive me!”

  “No – It’s all history!” Uncle Toby seemed almost pleased by the whole event. “Lost my leg to a Chomper – a mantis lion. Pack of ‘em came at me! Must have been twelve of them!”

  Samuels gave the man a level glare.

  “I thought you initially reported it as a mated pair?”

  “Twelve! Two big uns – but there was others on the lookout! Others out there on the hunt!”

  Samuels the raven politely conceded the point. “Pray continue.”

  “Well, there I was, swarming up the tree, and that big bugger of a Chomper male, he was below me. He tried to swarm on up after me – but he got only half way there and fell back! So I stopped climbing and tried to figure a way out of there! And that’s when it happened.” The old dog rapped hard against his metal leg, apparently in fine humour. “The big one tried again! Got half way up – and then the smaller one just climbed right over the top of him. It got its claws onto my foot and started to drag me down! So hell – I dumped the foot and let them both fall, then managed to climb up higher.”

  Kitterpokkie’s tall, pointed eyes widened in amazement. “You dumped your foot?”

  “Heh, cut my own leg off!” The old man jerked a thumb to a hefty sabre that hung on the wall in easy reach. “Always keep your tools sharp!”

  “However did you get away, sir?”

  The old man gave a hearty chuckle. “Well, those Chompers, they had one morsel of me, and a ton of hunger. So they started to fight over the thing. Words were flung, blows exchanged, harsh opinions flared. They started a battle so wild it shook me clean out of that tree! When I came to my senses, I saw them all fighting, so I just took off. Buggered off across the veldt.”

  Samuels was leaning his head upon one hand. He made a sharp clack of his beak.

  “And outran them one legged.”

  “The wiles of a junk prospector know no bounds! We’re canny buggers when roused!” The old man was unperturbed by heckling. “Came out of the whole deal down by one leg, but up by a ten kilo satchel full of silver chunks, and a hand-held healing machine!”

  Samuels cleared his throat. “Which broke thirty seconds after it supposedly cauterized your leg.”

  “A hand held healing machine!” Uncle Toby was triumphant. “Best salvage you ever clapped those bird brained eyes of yours on!”

  The two old men cleared the dishes, arguing with one another all the while. Kitterpokkie leaned over as genteelly as she could, and murmured into Snapper’s ear.

  “How exactly did the gentleman lose his leg?”

  “To a dozen Chompers, like the man says!” The shark stretched, fluffing her long hair out behind her. “An unenhanced story is like an unpolished jewel! Buff it up, and it’s the same substance – just has the facets all sparkling.”

  Samuels came past, and heaved a heavy sigh.

  “Pay no attention to either of them, my dear. We students of the truth are long suffering.” The raven placed towels upon the back of an old string chair. “Jemima my dear! I imagine you will be wanting a bath? And your friend as well, I trust.” The man placed a scrubbing brush, a bottle of oil and a long yellow bar of home made soap beside the towels. “Leave your laundry in the basket.”

  “Ah.” Kitterpokkie plucked at her travel stained clothing. “I may perhaps have to merely rinse these out and wear them wet…”

  Throckmorton advanced his little pack of luggage.

  “You may have my handkerchief.”

  Snapper patted the plant. “That’s ok. She can borrow some of my gear.”

  “You do not look to be the same design.” The plant peered from one female to the other. “You are taller, with larger upper swelling.”

  Snapper puffed out her chest somewhat. “Well, we can knot her a shirt or something.!”

  “Also she is not as fat.”

  “Hmm.” The shark regarded the plant across her
spectacle rims. “Why don’t you just… manure yourself, or whatever you do. Hang out with a few bees or something.” Somewhat annoyed, the shark led the way to the bath house. “Come on Kitt, I’ll get the chip heater going. Let’s lose ten kilos of dirt.”

  The bath was an absolute godsend. Kitterpokkie soaked in the great big tub – a concrete cylinder scavenged from somewhere or other by the industrious household of prospectors. It utterly restored her, seeping into her very chitin. She lazed for a wonderful long while, finally emerging to find some lengths of purple cloth waiting for her beside her towel. She contrived a skirt, and a band about her breasts, wandering out and feeling a wonderful sleepy good will.

  Snapper came plodding towards the bath house, having re-stoked the heater and replaced the water. She sent dusty clothing sailing into the laundry basket, and clambered naked into the tub, wincing as she found the water just a touch too hot. She eased her nethers into the water in stages, finally sliding in and utterly disappearing beneath the surface. She remained underwater for so long that Kitterpokkie felt quite alarmed. The mantis had started half way back towards the bath when Snapper quietly surfaced and let out a huge sigh of joy. The shark swam about for ages, then set to work upon her skin with soap and scrubbing brush.

  “Hey! Once we’re dry, we should head down the pub!”

  “The pub?” Kitterpokkie had never been a great aficionado of her local village tavern. After so long on the road, she was keen to eat a decent dinner and find a bed that was free of rocks and bug-mice. “The pub, you say?”

  “Yeah! The wagon guys owe me drinks! And we can tell folks about the Screamers. Which makes us heroes. Which means even more drinks!”

  “Ah.”

  “Total win-win!” The shark untied her ear plaits, then began lathering up her hair. “The food’s great up there! They do a great bug-gazie pie!”

  Snapper finally emerged from the bath, her hide scrubbed clean and gleaming, long black hair washed, brushed and oiled. Combing out her hair she then sat to once again put in her braids. She placed a pair of little lead balls beside her as she worked.