The Garbage Chronicles (25 page)

CHAPTER 12

The planet naturally attracts space debris, much of it radioactively and ionically charged. When this is combined with a basic magnetic imbalance, the place becomes inhospitable to the pure energy waves required by a magician. Magic still works there, but only erratically.

Conclusion of the magicians’ task force assigned to Cork, sixty-seven centuries before Abercrombie’s arrival

As Javik slept, Lord Abercrombie left his soil-immersion chamber and floated just above the surface to the Disaster Control Room. There he supervised work on the old earthquake and flood machine. This was comprised of a long bank of cracked CRT screens and discolored computer keyboards along one wall, manned by six dented meckies. As he entered the room, he heard squeaking, whirring, and synchronized rattles as the meckies tried to get the equipment going.

“Anything?” Lord Abercrombie asked, expecting to receive the usual long list of problems.

“We’re flooding the ancient riverbed on the east
edge
of Dusty Desert,” a soprano-voiced silver meckie reported.

“Eh?” Lord Abercrombie said, moving to the meckie’s side. He rubbed his human eye and then studied the water table gauges to one side of the CRT screen. Not believing the readings, he slammed the butt of his hand against them. The needles jumped only a little, returning to their original position. “I don’t believe it,” he mumbled. “How long has this been working?”

“Three and a half hours, Lord,” the silver meckie said.

“And no sign of the monopoles?”

“Not so far. We’re concentrating all the spring waters for thousands of square kilometers—raising them to the level of the desert plateau.”

“How long before we get a rip-roaring flood?” Lord Abercrombie asked.

“Just a few hours, if everything holds together.”

Still not believing his good fortune, Lord Abercrombie said, “Be careful not to get the flood going too soon. We want to catch Brother Carrot’s entire fleet when they’re in the middle of the desert.”

“Yes, Lord.”

Lord Abercrombie felt like jumping up and clicking his heels. There had been so many misfortunes, so many dashed hopes. Then he remembered that he only had one heel left. It didn’t matter, anyway. He needed to keep a more even temperament, not becoming too euphoric during good times or too depressed during the bad.

It’s not a loser’s mentality,
he told himself.
I’m just being sensible,

“What about the monopoles?” the silver meckie asked. “They could get in our way if we wait for Brother Carrot. How about a hurricane where the army is now?”

“We’d have to shut down the flood to do that,” Lord Abercrombie said. “Better not risk it. Let’s keep what we have going.”

Three midmorning suns cast their rays around the campsite as Javik opened the tent flap and stepped out. His feet and hands were cold. He wiped his nose with one sleeve, then stared at the bio bar in his hand. With gnawing, screaming hunger at his midsection, he lifted the high-energy bar to his lips. Slowly he nibbled at it, tasting the sweetness of honey and feeling the texture of reprocessed oat flakes on his tongue. When he was halfway through the bar, he considered saving a portion for Rebo and Namaba. Then he ate Rebo’s allocation, following that with Namaba’s.

I warned them,
Javik thought, licking the corners of his mouth to retrieve the last molecules of sweetness there. Hearing running water, he walked past the sleeping form of Rebo and looked over the edge of a low embankment.

A small stream ran below his vantage point, sparkling cheerily in sunlight. On the ground nearby, Rebo stirred and stretched. Javik wondered where Namaba had gone. Then he saw her, in shade at the base of the embankment, leaning over the water. The stream was not as large as Javik had imagined it to be the night before. And it seemed quieter now. Oddly, the banks were wet by each side a good ten meters above the water level.

Rebo loped to his side, yawning.

“Look at that water level,” Javik said. “It’s dropped a lot recently. I’d say overnight.”

“Huh,” Rebo said, not showing interest. “Boy, am I hungry!” he said. “You got anything left in your pack?”

“No. You finished your share yesterday.” Javik was still hungry, even hungrier than he had been before eating the bio bar. The bit of food had activated his appetite. In a big way.

Prince Pineapple walked up, asking for his nutrient kit. Javik gave it to him, then watched the prince nudge away sleepily, looking for a spot to recharge.

“We’ve gotta figure something out,” Rebo said. “Can’t go on without nourishment.”

“Don’t imagine you have many streams in Moro City,” Javik said, returning to his own subject. “But they aren’t supposed to drop like that. Not in such a short period of time.”

Rebo was watching Prince Pineapple recharge himself on a patch of dark ground at the edge of the forest. The prince had one foot immersed in a freshly dug hole and his eyes were closed. In ecstasy, he leaned back on both elbows.

Javik looked too, wondering if the nutrient kit would work for him and the Moravians. To Javik it looked as though Prince Pineapple was receiving a form of sexual gratification. It was the way he leaned back, and the look of sublime pleasure on his pineapple face.

“Why couldn’t we do that?” Rebo asked.

“I was just thinking the same thing.”

They watched Prince Pineapple remove his bare foot from the hole and wipe it with a moist-pak towelette. Glancing at Javik and Rebo nervously, he found his sock and slipped it on.

“I’m pretty damned hungry,” Javik said.

“Same here.”

Without another word, they walked toward Prince Pineapple, reaching him just as he was refilling his hole.

“We’ll take that,” Javik said, grabbing the shovel and barbed nutrient cord.

“You first?” Javik asked, extending the items to Rebo.

“Go ahead,” Rebo said. “I’m not afraid, even if it kills you, I’d have to give it a try. We’re different, you know, and it might only work for one of us.”

Javik looked around for a place to dig.

“It won’t work for either of you,” Prince Pineapple said. He stomped on the loose dirt from his hole, packing it flat.

Javik dug at a furious pace, clanging the shovel on stones and throwing loose dirt in all directions. Some dirt landed on the prince’s shoes.

“Watch it,” Prince Pineapple said haughtily. “And don’t damage my shovel.”

“Get rid of him,” Javik said. “Before I lose my temper.”

“Beat it,” Rebo said, showing no respect for the prince’s royal status. He gave Prince Pineapple a mighty shove, causing him to stumble backward.

“Ruffian!” Prince Pineapple said.

Wizzy flew up just then. “You shouldn’t do that,” he said. “A prince of Cork deserves our respect.”

“I can take care of myself,” Prince Pineapple huffed. He stalked off in the direction of the tent.

“Wait!” Wizzy squealed, flying behind the angry prince.

Prince Pineapple paid no heed to Wizzy.

“I’d like us to be friends again,” Wizzy said. “We have too much in common to be at one another’s throats.”

“You have no throat,” Prince Pineapple said coolly.

“It was a figure of speech.”

“But I have shifty eyes,” Prince Pineapple snapped, still stalking away. “You can’t be friends with someone like that.”

“Let’s talk about it,” Wizzy said.

“There’s nothing to discuss,” the prince said, raging. “And I don’t need any friends.”

Wizzy stopped following, and let the angry prince go his own way. Prince Pineapple found a log on which to sit and sulk.

Sadly, Wizzy flew off to be by himself. He missed his friend and thought back upon their wonderful conversation in the prince’s apartment.
My first friendship,
Wizzy
thought, alighting on a tree branch.
It didn’t last very long.

A chubby yellow bird chirped cheerily on a nearby branch.

“You wanna be my friend?” Wizzy asked.

The bird had a short beak, with nervous, beady eyes. It looked at Wizzy curiously, then chirped again and flew away.

“Guess not,” Wizzy said. He tried to cheer himself by remembering his Papa Sidney’s strong friendship with Captain Tom.
I’lI find a friend, he
thought.
Somewhere in this great big universe, there’s a friend
..
Just waiting for me to find him.

Wizzy
circled the campsite. Spotting a worm crawling along the ground, he landed in its path and glowed a friendly shade of lavender. Unimpressed, the worm crawled around him.

“Oh, well,” Wizzy said.

Just then the chubby yellow bird dived at the worm, snatching it in its beak. A startled Wizzy watched the bird fly off and disappear in the woods.

“Maybe that’s the way to get a friend,” Wizzy said. “Just swoop down and carry one away.” Resolving to give this more thought, Wizzy flew down to the creek, hovering over Namaba as she washed.

“That was great!” Javik said after his recharge, leaping up from the hole. He felt nourished and sexually gratified at the same time, a wonderful completeness he had not experienced in recent memory.

“Pretty good, huh?” Rebo asked.

“Pretty
good? It made the whole trip to Cork worthwhile, that’s all!” Javik knelt and removed the barbed cord from his foot.

“Say,” Rebo said, looking at Javik closely. “The scratches are gone from your face. So’s the scar you had on your nose.”

“That so?” Javik said. He rubbed his forehead, the bridge of his nose, and his cheeks. They were smooth.

Rebo was hesitant to attempt the charge. “I’m not like you,” he said. “This could still kill me.” He took the cord from Javik and wrapped it around one paw. Timidly, he extended the paw toward the hole Javik had used. It touched dirt. He put his weight on the paw. There was a slight tingling. Rebo’s red eyes flashed around nervously.

“Anything?” Javik asked. He brushed off his own foot and put on his sock and boot.

Rebo shifted his paw around in the hole. “My skin’s kinda thick,” he said. “So I barely feel the barbs.” He shifted his foot again: There was no change in the sensation.

“Try a new hole,” Javik suggested. “Maybe that one’s used up for a while.”

“Huh?” Rebo said, glancing at Javik. “Oh, yeah. Thanks.” He stepped out of the hole and used the shovel to dig a fresh one. Soon he was recharging too. It worked so well that steam shot out of his ears in frosty puffs against the cool morning air.

“That
was
good,” Rebo said as he finished. “What a meal!”

“Did you feel anything else?” Javik asked, keeping his voice down.

Rebo thought for a moment. “Yeah,” he said. “Now that you mention it. Kind of a noppi noppi feeling,”

Javik’s language mixer pendant did not translate this expression, but no explanation was required. “A guy could set up one hell of a resort here,” Javik said. “Folks would cross the universe to enjoy some of this. It even heals cuts and scars.”

Javik noticed brown powder forming all over Rebo’s body, blowing-off in the wind and getting on his black club jacket.
Bodily waste,
Javik thought, picking up the dull odor again.
Not so distasteful as human wastes.

Rebo smiled broadly. “Ah!” he exclaimed.

“I’d better fill the water pods,” Javik said. He retrieved the nutrient kit and connected it to his belt.

Recalling that Namaba was at the creek, Rebo’s smile faded. “I can get it. Wait. Do we even need water now? With the nutrient kit working for us?”

“The charge might wear off quickly,” Javik said. “And what if something went wrong with the nutrient kit?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Stay here and fill those holes,” Javik said. “You can push the dirt back with your paws.”

Rebo did as he was told.

Javik returned to the camp and lifted the partially full water pods and the survival pack out of the tent. Stepping safely away, he mentoed the habitat into a tight little ball.

What a terrible death,
he thought,
if I ever mentoed this thing shut while still inside.
Javik had heard of a camper getting squeezed into a tight little roll, but wondered if it was just another folktale.

Moments later, Javik put the tent roll in the pack. Leaving the pack there on the ground, he took the water pods and trudged down a short bank to the river.

Namaba smiled when she saw him. “I was waiting for you,” she said, securing the yellow and black polka dot ribbon to her mane.

Javik told her the marvelous news about their new source of nutrition, omitting the prurient details.

Namaba wiped cool water across her face. “That
is
good news,” she said. “I’ll recharge too, when we return to camp.” She noticed Javik’s scratches were gone, and commented on this.

“The recharge,” Javik said. “Some kinda wonder cure.”

Standing at the top of the embankment, Rebo watched Javik and Namaba. He heard their muted words and saw them smiling at one another. Namaba’s laughter cut through the chill morning air like a knife piercing the center of Rebo’s steam engine heart. He focused on the bolstered thunder piece worn by Javik. But his thoughts of harming Javik were short-lived. Rebo felt ashamed for having them.

Namaba watched Javik as he knelt on a flat stone and filled the pod. He capped it and reached for the other pod.

“Do you remember the two trails?” she asked. “Back at Icy Valley?”

“Yes.” Javik suppressed a burp from the recharge.

“If I had gone up the first trail,” she said, “I know whose image I would have seen there.”

“Sure. Rebo’s.”

As Javik looked at her, a soft smile formed on her lips. “I would have seen
you,”
she said.

“Me?”
Javik fumbled with the second pod’s lid. He noticed the river level was still dropping, leaving only a few centimeters of water in some places.

“I love you,” she said.

Javik forgot about the water level. Feeling his heart kick, he set the full plastic pod on a rock and stood up. Taking a deep breath, he gazed downstream. The river, which was now a creek, reached a bend several hundred meters away, a place where sunlight sparkled cheerily on the water. Two ruby red birds flew close to the water at the bend. Their wingtips touched the water, spraying mist.