The Farpool (71 page)

Kloosee gave the word. Power from a
bank of eel-like, specially bred
k’orpuh
was applied. The singularity engine was
engaged. Then on the Twister deck several beats above them, on the
surface, the chronotron pods began to turn.

For many minutes, as the Twister spun up, the
waters above Likte Trench grew turbulent, crashing and foaming and
bubbling as great forces were slowly uncaged and released. The
first vortex columns appeared shortly afterward and soon became
white-hot, steaming caldrons as the pods jerked spacetime into
their clutches and the waters flashed with immense, barely
contained energies.

Loptoheen was exultant. “Pul’kel…” he
whispered. “Our first whirlpools…we’ve done it!”

Just then, a Sk’ortish weaver popped into the
control cavern with news of the results. “Lost our first tillet,”
he told them. “She wandered into a pul’kel and vanished. It
works…it works!”

“The big question is the main vortex,”
Chase told Kloosee. “The Farpool. I don’t know where it’ll form…or
even
if
it’ll
form.”

“We should send out scouts to look.”

“Good idea.”

A dozen scouts were rounded up and given the
hazardous duty. Chase gathered them around the cavern entrance.

“The vortex fields are forming. But I don’t
know if the Farpool has formed yet. We have to find it, see what
it’s doing.”

“I’ll go,” Pakma offered. “I’d like to study
this phenomena, measure the scents they produce, maybe capture some
in a bulb.”

Kloosee started to object, but Chase overrode
the objection. “It may come in handy,Kloos. We need to learn
everything we can about the Farpool…how it forms, how it works, how
stable is it, even what it smells like. We may need all that. But
Pakma, be careful out there. All those vortexes, they’re
treacherous. Give them a wide berth…don’t get too close.”

The scouts were dispatched.

Pakma traveled with two others, both
Eep’kostic natives, from the southern seas, both males, Koktee and
Rokka. They set out, skirting several smallish whirlpools dancing
over the top of the Trench like watery wraiths. Currents were
strong and confused; slipping through the tricky tides and waves
and surges of the vortex fields took nimble swimming and strong
flukes.

“There’s something strong up ahead,” said
Koktee. “Feel it…it’s already dragging us in.”

The three of them pulled hard to navigate
through the battering of whirling columns of water, all of them
spinoffs from the startup of the Twister. Each vortex reached out
in turn, clutching at them, knocking themselves sideways, upside
down. It was a tight squeeze,

“Watch out for that one!” yelled Rokka. A
massive tornado of water appeared out of nowhere. It seemed to
split the sea top to bottom, twisting and corkscrewing like a thing
alive.

Pakma and Koktee were too late. Each was
caught in the whirlpool.

“I’m trapped!” Pakma cried. She whipped one
way, then another, stroked as hard as she could but it was no use.
The vortex squeezed and pummeled her and pulled her steadily into
its spinning maw.

Koktee was no better off, though he was
stronger. They were embedded in a forest of whirlpools, new ones
forming left and right, appearing and disappearing in seconds, as
the Time Twister’s chronotron pods grabbed spacetime and yanked it.
The whirlpools were an inevitable side effect of the Twister’s
operation.

For a minute, Pakma thought she would
be able to pull free. She slammed her tail and armfins as hard as
she could.
Almost
there…almost
…but she couldn’t quite break free. She
couldn’t relax either; with every breath, the whirlpool column
pulled her closer.

Finally, the wormhole won and Pakma
disappeared in a flash into the core of the spinning, writhing
tube. Seconds later, Koktee vanished also.

Only Rokka survived. Stunned, his heart
pounding, he turned about and swam as hard as he could back toward
the Trench and the control center in the cavern. He was out of
breath and shaking when he arrived.

When Kloosee realized Pakma was gone,
“
swallowed by opuh’te
,” Rokka
forced out, between great gulps, he was disconsolate. Chase
questioned Rokka about what he had seen, where they had been, was
this the Farpool? Rokka shook like a scared dog, Chase thought, and
had to be calmed down by others. Chase went to Kloosee, who circled
outside the cavern mindlessly, restlessly.

“Maybe she’s just displaced, thrown somewhere
nearby. I’ll get a search going,” Chase offered.

Kloosee just kept circling. He was
making Chase dizzy, watching him, trying to keep up. “It’s no use.
Every one of the
opuh’te
is a
little farpool. You called them wormholes. Openings to other
places, other seas, other times. She’s just
gone
—“ he couldn’t finish the
thought.

Chase wished he could talk without the
echobulb but it was useless. He reached out to try and soothe his
friend, but Kloosee wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t slow down. If anything,
he orbited about the front of the cavern even faster, words and
fragments of words spilling out.

“She was always
shoo’kel, eekoti
Chase…full of
ke’shoo
and
ke’lee.
She was a great pulse….she was great
with the scentbulbs…that was her art. Full of life.
Now—“

“Kloos, she was my friend too.”

But Kloosee wanted no part of any of them. He
scooted off into the murk, heading somewhere, anywhere. Chase tried
to keep up, afraid his friend might wander into a whirlpool, by
mistake or on purpose…he didn’t know.

But there was no way he could keep up.

“Leave him alone,” someone said behind
Chase. It was Loptoheen, the Ponkti
tuk
master. “Omtorish are like that…death upsets
shoo’kel…upsets the balance, the serenity. Ponkti don’t react the
same way.”

For a long moment, Chase glared at the
old tukmaster. “Humans…
eekoti
…are like that too. Dying is the end.
Finality. I guess we’re more like the Omtorish.”

Loptoheen did something that Chase had always
regarded as a sort of shrug, the way he hunched his armfins. “To
Ponkti, death and life are a great circle, like the Pomt’or
Current…one follows the other, one comes from the other. Where you
have one, you have the other.”

Chase now felt the growing turbulence and
pounding of the Twister’s drone beating against the water. Proof,
as if he needed any, that the Uman machine was now working in some
way.

“We need to locate the Farpool, and determine
if it’s operating as before. I’ll form up a scout detail and lead
it myself. It has to be out there among all those whirlpools.”

But before Chase could organize the scouts, a
courier appeared outside the cavern. His name was Skota and he had
come from Omsh’pont, bearing an official message from the
Metah.

Skota was given something to eat and drink,
before revealing the message. He had memorized the words, but
Iltereedah’s voice had also been recorded on an echobulb, for
backup. The deep sound channel was too unreliable for repeaters to
use, so the kels had begun using them as physical couriers.

“Her Most Affectionate Majesty, Iltereedah
luk’t kel: Om’t, is on her way to the Likte Trench, to the project
site. She arrives in two days. Other Metahs travel with her, along
with their courts. The Kel’em of Omsh’pont travels too. They come
to see what progress has occurred here.”

The Metah?
Chase wished Kloosee were around, but his friend hadn’t come
back yet…he was off on some kind of grief roam, off by
himself.
I need Kloosee
,
Chase thought. What did one do to prepare for a visit by the
Metah?

Loptoheen offered some suggestions.
“She will want to see the control station. This cavern muffles the
sounds outside. Make this space fit for Iltereedah. Assemble
food…Iltereedah will want gisu, ertleg, all the pal’penk fin you
can find, maybe tong’pod too. And drink.” Here, Loptoheen leveled a
stern gaze at Chase. “You and I have had our differences,
eekoti.
But in this project, we are
kelke. I’m telling you straight. We have to work together.
Iltereedah, Lektereenah, all the Metahs, they will want to see that
we work as a team.”

Chase wanted to believe him. He figured he
didn’t have much choice.

A few hours later, the Metah’s convoy had
arrived.

Chase deputized Loptoheen and a select group
from each kel represented to show the Metahs around the project
site…the Twister foundation, the control station in the cavern,
even watching the dance of the whirlpools from a distance. After
the formal tour, with Chase glancing nervously at Loptoheen for
approval and a little guidance, the officials assembled inside the
control station cavern to dine.

Iltereedah snacked noisily on ertleg claws,
while her Kel’em, the kel council, hovered nearby, also eating, yet
doting on her every word and belch.

Chase decided to be bold. His Dad wouldn’t
have been surprised. “Affectionate Metah, once we locate the
Farpool, we need to test it. Send someone through, some gear too,
and make sure it works as before, that they can come back through
to Seome.”

Iltereedah let her half-eaten ertleg
claws orbit around her head like minor planets around a sun. “I
have approved a test mission. But there
are
conditions. There will be two ships. Each
ship must have three onboard, six in all. Every kel will be
represented.”

Lektereenah, Metah of Ponk’t, agreed. “It is
the only way. No kel can dominate the Farpool. We all have a stake
in this.” It was the way she said it that drew Chase’s notice.
Lektereenah always wore an enigmatic smile, but behind the smile
lurked something more sinister. Indeed, Chase saw how she and
Loptoheen made eye contact. Something had passed between them.

Oolandrah, Metah of Sk’ort, agreed. “We all
agree on this. If the travelers make it through the Farpool and
come back, we’ll know it works as before. The path for emigrating
will be open.”

Iltereedah wanted to re-assert herself.
The control station was still Omtorish territory. She gave a quick
snap of her tail flukes and bounded about the control room.
“Already plans have been made,
eekoti
Chase. Even now, cohorts are being formed
in all kels. Emigration cohorts. Materials to accompany each one
are being gathered and assembled in Omsh’pont. The first pal’penk
trains will be here soon.”

Lektereenah was not to be outdone. “Our
Ponkti engineers are building a departure station right next to the
Trench. Here, our kelke will come and be made ready for the
trip.”

It all made Chase’ head spin. “Affectionate
Metahs, we haven’t tested the Farpool yet. Isn’t this too early
to—“

But Iltereedah would hear none of it. “Then,
you must test right away. You have your assigned crew. What is the
delay?”

Chase had no answer for that.

The assigned crew, carefully worked out among
the Metahs, was a perfect political balance among the kels. Chase,
Kloosee and Loptoheen would travel through the Farpool in one
kip’t, specially strengthened for the journey and outfitted with
gear for detailed exploration, measurement and reconnaissance of
the far seas of Urth. The second kip’t would carry Yaktu, Habloo
and Koboh, each kelke from other kels around Seome.

As final preparations were being made and
provisions laid in, Lektereenah summoned Loptoheen to a quick roam
deep into the abyss of the Trench, away from all the others. The
steep walls of the trench somewhat muffled the sound of the Twister
above them. In the black of the trench, only a few nightmarish
creatures accompanied them, creatures with electric blue spines,
gaping maws and stiletto teeth, bulging red eyes.

Loptoheen and Lektereenah roamed in silence
for awhile. Then, Lektereenah stopped abruptly.

“You know why I summoned you?”

“Yes, Affectionate Metah. It bubbles inside
you…anyone could pulse it.”

Lektereenah seethed. “Don’t be so
insolent. The younger
tuk
players look up to you. You should be an example…of shoo’kel
and respect, not insults and rudeness.”

Loptoheen had grown tired of this exchange
scores of mah ago. “As you wish, Metah.”

Lektereenah said, “This mission is
vital to Ponk’t. The kelke are counting on you.
I’m
counting on you. Don’t let me
down.”

“You haven’t given me any specific
instructions on how to carry it out.”

“No,” said Lektereenah. “I assumed you
were resourceful enough to find a way. Just make sure that
the
eekoti
, Chase, and
Kloosee of Omt’or, don’t come back. They must not return to our
seas. That will make it easier for us later…when the emigration
starts.”

Loptoheen moved off at a slow pace, a
deliberate snub to the Metah. “Then the decision has been made. We
leave our world, everything we’ve ever known, everything we hold
dear, behind. Just like that?”

Lektereenah hustled to keep up. “What
choice is there? You’ve seen what’s happening…
ak’loosh
is upon us. The Great Wave is here.
Everything will be destroyed. Shooki’s mad. He means to bring this
world to an end…so we have to find another one. The
eekoti’s
world is a world of seas.
We can make a life there. But once we are there, Omt’or will no
longer rule the seas. The Ponkti will make the rules.”