Post #98 October 30, 2017

“Excerpt from The Farpool: Exodus”

On October 17, I will be starting the first draft of my next sf novel, with the title as shown above.  This story is a sequel to The Farpool: Marauders of Seome and the third in The Farpool series. 

With any luck, I should be done with this in March or April 2018 and be able to upload to Smashwords.com around that time.  Stay tuned.

I stuck an excerpt of this story at the end of Farpool: Marauders, which I reprint below, as a way of priming the pump, so to speak, for dedicated readers. 

Here’s the excerpt:

Chapter 1

Earth

The Atlantic Ocean, near Bermuda

May 1, 2115

After the detonation, no one detected the small fleet of Coethi jumpships quietly withdrawing from the Sigma Albeth B system, having let loose a final volley of starballs, which had impacted the sun and initiated the deadly sequence of events.

Several hundred thousand Seomish, from all kels, had managed to emigrate through the Farpool to Urku…to Earth.  Twenty million others had died in the End Times…the great ak’loosh.  The Farpool had been destroyed…for now.  The Time Twister, originally built and operated by the Umans of the First Time Displacement Battery, had now been destroyed, as had the wavemaker the Seomish had constructed from Uman schematics, to keep the Farpool going, to keep an escape route open for the doomed world of Seome.  To re-create the Farpool now, another Time Twister would have to be built.

The emigrants (known among themselves as tu’kelke) had mostly traveled in lifeships and modified kip’ts to 22^nd century Earth.  However, some of the immigrants did not have proper control of their lifeships and wound up on Earth in different time periods…mid-20th century Earth, 16-century Earth, 28^th century Earth and one small group in the Cretaceous period of Earth, just before the big asteroid Chicxulub struck, dooming the dinosaurs.  None of these tu’kelke had any way of communicating with each other, or traveling, since the Farpool was gone.

In a small cave near the growing encampment of the tu’kelke at the Muir seamounts, Chase Meyer (still em’took-modified) found a familiar face in the form of Tulcheah li, half-Omtorish, half-Ponkti, working with other members of her em’kel to unpack pods and cases and make some kind of home in the dim warren of caves.  They were glad to see each other and they embraced hard, first in the Uman way, then as Seomish, though Chase was only a halfling.  Chase then invited Tulcheah out for a roam about the settlement.

“They’re calling it Kee’nomsh’pont,” Tulcheah was saying.  “Kind of like ‘Little Omsh’pont’.”  It had been named for the great capital city of the Omtorish, nearly destroyed long ago in a Ponkti assault.

The base of the seamount was a craggy broken land, pockmarked with caves, niches, folds, burrows and hollows, nearly four kilometers in circumference, blending into the broader Bermuda Platform, itself a flat-topped guyot thousands of feet above the abyssal plains of the seafloor.  Over every fold and crack at the base of the seamount, small knots of kelke had built shelter, drawing hundreds of sheets of fibrous netting over the openings, carving out small tunnels, channels, warrens and passageways right out of the volcanic tuff of the mountain.  The effect was to make the base of the Muir complex resemble a vast spiderweb or honeycomb of cells and caves.  

Tulcheah pulsed the vast heaving expanse of the refugee settlement, noting how frightening the trip through the Farpool had been.

“We just made it, eekoti Chase.  Our ship twisted and turned and shook and shuddered and we thought it would come apart.  It was awful.  Thank Great Shooki we were lucky.”

Chase could barely pulse for himself the extent of the congregation of Seomish immigrants—Omtorish, Ponkti, Eep’kostic, Skortish, Orketish—they were all crammed together, beak to tail, in the bosom of the sea mount and her surrounding hills. 

“Yeah, sometimes the Farpool is like that.  But I wonder: how many didn’t make it?”

At this, Tulcheah turned somber.  “Perhaps a number beyond counting, eekoti Chase.  It is written that when Shooki sends the great wave, the ak’loosh, many will die.”

They roamed in silence for a time, circling above the crude camps scattered about the seamount. 

Tulcheah spoke quietly, swishing her tail back and forth against downdraft currents coursing down from the upper reaches of the mountain.  “See how they’re are already gathering themselves into kels?  We haven’t even been here very long and the old divisions, the old conflicts, are returning.  Even in new waters, we fight.”

“I guess that’s to be expected.  It’s the same with my people.  By the way, we don’t call ourselves Tailless.  We call ourselves Humans.  Get used to it.”

At that, Tulcheah smirked and bumped him playfully.  “You’re both, eekoti Chase.  Human and Seomish.”

And it was true.  The thought of it made Chase both sad and proud at the same time.  If only Dad could see me now, he told himself.  His beach bum son has become a kind of intergalactic ambassador.

They soon ran into a school of Ponkti midlings, engaged in learning tuk moves and defenses from none other than Loptoheen himself.  Tuk was the martial dance and close-quarters combat discipline for which the Ponkti had long been reknown.  Loptoheen had been the acknowledged master of tuk for as long as anyone could remember.

Tulcheah and Chase stopped to watch but it was quickly clear that the Ponkti wanted to keep to themselves. 

Loptoheen growled at them.  “Be off, kelke!  There’s nothing here for you.  And stop stirring up the waters too…these students need to concentrate.”

Tulcheah, who was half-Ponkti, barked back at him.  “Litorkel ge, old Loptoheen.  Calm waters to all of you.”  There was a twinkle in her eye and she tried to stifle a half smile.  “It won’t be long before your students give you a real thrashing.”

“Kah!” came Loptoheen’s reply.  The Ponkti school moved off and was soon lost in the chaos of the settlement below.

Tulcheah and Chase resumed their roam about Kee’nomsh’pont.  It was clear to both, though unspoken, that even in this strange and difficult new setting, the kels were organizing themselves into traditional water clans again.

Listening in to the chatter, they soon learned of the rumors of a great roam being organized by the Metahs of all the kels: Mokleeoh, Lektereenah, Okeemah and Kolandra…a roam for the purpose of settling disputes and setting conditions for how the new settlement would operate.  Already big crowds had started to gather near the edge of the settlement, anticipating the start of the vish’tu.

“We should grab a spot, eekoti Chase.  Get in position, near the front.  The best spots will be gone quickly.”

Chase had other ideas.  “Tulcheah, it’s not leaving for a day.  Maybe more.  Besides, I think I know a place on the other side of the mountain.”

“A place?”

“Where we can be alone.  You taught me that, you slut.  There’s more to roaming than just seeing the sights.”

“I thought you came by to learn how the rest of the Ponkti are getting along.”  She stopped, picked up an old scentbulb somebody had left behind and sniffed experimentally.

“That’s not why I came.”

“I know why you came…it’s written all over your insides.  A blind tillet could see it halfway around the world.  What makes you think I’m in the mood?”  Tulcheah held up the scentbulb and let its odors drift out.

“For the love of Shooki…that thing smells like a seamother herd…what is that stuff?”

Tulcheah sniffed indignantly at the bulb.  “Home, eekoti Chase.  This is all we have left…of home.”

“I’ve got something better than an old bulb,” he told her.  Chase swam up close and bumped her.  “Look, I’ve got to get back to Tamarek’s place…how about we—“

But she put a hand to his mouth, fondling his lips, the way she always did.  “Eekoti Chase, you never change.  Come with me, o’ great and famous traveler.  I’ll show you things you never imagined—“And she slapped her tail at him, disappearing into a small cleft in a nearby space, a narrow fold in the rock, draped with torn shreds of fabric and fiber.  It was dark inside, but the scents were strong.  Chase followed.

 From somewhere out of the dark, Tulcheah spoke.  “Do all eekoti look so ugly as you?”

“Hey, this was some kind of surgery, remember…you know, to let me live in your world better.  Normally, I’m just a stud.”

Tulcheah laughed at that.  She nuzzled up under Chase’s chin with her beak.  “You have funny words, eekoti Chase.  You know about Ke’shoo and Ke’lee?”

As she bumped him again and rubbed herself along his side scales, Chase said, “Love and life…I think I understand it.  You like to have a good time.”

Tulcheah pulled up and stared into Chase’s eyes.  She had black button eyes, and they gleamed in the faint light.  “You pulse anxious…no need for that.  Just relax…these threads look like old man Terpy’t’s.”  She smiled.  “I’ve got an idea…here, I’ll show you.  Take this knot in your mouth—“  She gave Chase an end of the thread. 

Chase stuffed the filaments in his mouth.  It tasted like rope.  “Like this?—“he mumbled.

“Hold on to it and pull.  Follow me… I’ll guide you.”  Tulcheah took one arm and together, the two of them swooped up and down the hold, spinning and weaving denser strands of the frayed web, back and forth.  It was erotic and sensuous, all the more so as Tulceah rubbed herself against his sides with each cycle. 

Blast this scaly skin…I’m getting turned on…can’t feel what I—

The mat of fiber grew thicker as they made turn after turn. 

Tulcheah asked, “Where is the other eekoti?  Female is this one?”

Chase was in a heavenly daze and had to shake himself to clarity.  “Huh, oh…Angie?  Yeah, female.  A girl.  My girlfriend…yeah.”

“And where is this eekoti Angie?”

“Right now, I really don’t know.  I need to find her.  Back at Scotland Beach, I imagine.”

By some unseen signal, Tulcheah stopped the spinning and hovered on one side of Chase.  She nosed up and down his body with her beaks, clearly looking for something, poking, probing, sniffing.

Then she stopped, looked up into Chase’s eyes.  “I’m not familiar with this em’took…where is the ket’shoo’ge?”

“The what?”

Tulcheah laughed.  “All of us have ket’shoo’ge…how do you translate this?…little lover…maybe, small…em’too… love hold?”

“Hey, mine isn’t that small, if you’re asking.  Hell, if I know…this skin is so scaly…I don’t really know where—“ 

Then Tulcheah found it.

Later, after they had coupled, Chase remembered seeing something on Nat Geo, a vid or something, about how fish had sex.  Many females just ejected eggs into the water.  The males ejected sperm.  The eggs got fertilized…end of story.  But some marine animals had specialized organs called claspers.  That’s when things got interesting.

Tulcheah had found Chase’s claspers.   The Omtorish, in their infinite wisdom, had designed the em’took procedure so that the Lizard Man that Chase had become would have claspers. 

And it was clear that Tulcheah knew what to do with claspers.

When Chase and Angie made love, the best time for Chase was in the little fishing boat in Half Moon Cove.  You had to have lots of blankets to make a soft landing.  It was awkward at times…you had to be clever and inventive on how to use the space—but when the boat was rocking in the swells and you had the right rhythm…it was …really awesome!

That’s what Tulcheah did to Chase.

Chase found his claspers exquisitely sensitive.  The two of them formed one body and drifted softly about the tiny hold, occasionally getting entangled in the webs, tearing them, pulling them apart.

Terpy’t won’t like that, someone hissed.  More giggles and laughter.  And bubbles.  Lots of bubbles.  Bubbles and claspers…that was the key.

Chase was in heaven.

So they glided and undulated and rolled and bubbled and poked and tickled and rubbed and squeezed and Chase thought he was going to die, the feeling was so intense.  Thank God for em’took! he told himself. It was the first time he was really glad he looked like a giant frog.  Those wacky Omtorish really did know what they were doing.

They had been quiet, dozing for a time, when Chase thought he heard a strange noise, just outside the hold…a sort, of whirring, faintly whooshing noise.  Tulcheah was still, drifting asleep about the hold, so he gently untangled himself and pushed toward the opening. 

He was so startled at what he saw that he cried out:  “What the--!”

There, just beyond the opening, was a big eye.  No, that wasn’t it.  It was a face, grinning, leering at him with huge white teeth…it whirred and hummed and that’s when Chase realized he was staring right into the camera of a small submarine.  The face was a paint job…someone’s idea of a joke, with its gaping mouth and outsized teeth, it looked like a great white shark painted right onto the nose of the sub.

The thing was maybe five feet in length, with stubby wings and spinning props at the end, a semi-transparent nose, festooned with all kinds of gear, including what were obviously cameras and imagers. 

“Tulcheah!  Tulcheah…get up…wake up!”

He felt more than heard the scramble of a thrashing body behind him as the female collided with his back.  He could feel her breath on his neck, hovering just behind, shaking.

“What is this, eekoti Chase?  A Tailless monster?”

Chase just glared back at the hovering intruder.  “I don’t know…it’s some kind of sub….”  That when he noticed a logo and some reddish script-style writing on the side of the sub.  He spelled it out under his breath:

 

W-O-O-D-S   H-O-L-E   O-C-E-A-N-O-G-R-A-P-H-I-C   I-N-S-T-I-T-U-T-E

 

Chase swallowed hard.  The U.S. Navy already knew about the growing presence of the Seomish in the Atlantic.  It had been a closely held military secret for months.

Now it seemed that others would soon know as well. 

“Tulcheah, I don’t know how to tell you this…but I think they watched everything we just did—"

 

So, that’s the excerpt.  I hope you find it intriguing enough to stay tuned for the full story.  I’ll be giving The Word Shed regular progress reports on how it’s coming, as well as my other writing projects.

The next post to The Word Shed comes on November 6, 2017.

See you then.

Phil B.