Shock the Monkey, page 17
The truth about Jad was a minefield. Every conversation tiptoed around it, but eventually it would blow up in their faces.
“Your parents… may have had other reasons than the ones they told you,” Noah offered.
“You don’t even know my parents.”
“You’re right,” said Noah, gently bringing his foot back from the mine. “So let’s focus on what we do know.” He turned to the projection of the launchpad. “What’s the terrain like between here and there? Can we walk it?”
“I’m sure you two can,” said Miss Luella.
Noah didn’t like the sound of that. “You’re coming with us, right?”
Miss Luella sat herself down at the kitchen table. “This adventure has been a bit much for me. I’m afraid I’ll only slow you down. I’m already growing quite attached to your little farmhouse. It’ll be a wonderful place to settle down, don’t you think? I bet I’ll be able to grow an even finer vegetable garden than before!”
“So, you’re just going to stay here?” asked Noah. “What happens when the Fauxlites come back and find you here?”
“Oh, I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve,” said Miss Luella with a sly grin.
“Wh-what are Fauxlites?” Jad asked.
Yet another mine to step back from. “It doesn’t matter,” Noah said. “They’re not important.”
He could tell Jad wasn’t buying it but wisely chose not to press for an answer in the moment. Instead, Jad said, “You can go to that ship. But I’ve got to get back home. Because what if my parents come back, and I’m not there?”
The question hung heavy in the air. Noah could read such lonely desperation on Jad’s face, he had to ask a question he’d been avoiding. He put a hand on one of Jad’s three shoulders.
“Jad… have you considered… that maybe your parents aren’t coming back?”
Jad’s wide eyes narrowed in anger. “Don’t say that! Of course they’re coming back!”
“Jad…”
“I know what you’re thinking! You think they’re dead. But they’re not! Because if they were, someone would have come and told me!”
“I don’t think they’re dead, Jad… but there could be other reasons why they haven’t come back.…”
“No! I don’t want to hear this!” Jad turned away, but not before Noah saw heavy tears begin to flow. “You’ve ruined everything! It was all fine before you showed up! I wish you never came.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Nothing was supposed to be like this!” Jad yelled through the tears. “It was all supposed to be better. Just me and them, in a great new place. Away from the crowds and the noise—a place where my ‘problem’ wouldn’t be a problem anymore. That’s what they said! This isn’t how things were supposed to be!”
Noah took a seat beside his new alien friend, who suddenly didn’t seem so alien at all. “Sometimes things happen that are out of our control,” Noah said. “And thinking about it just makes things worse. Better to focus on the things you can control.”
“Name one single thing that’s in my control!”
Noah took a moment to consider his answer before he spoke. “Whether you spend your life waiting for something that might never come… or get out there and actually live your life. That’s in your control.”
It seemed to strike a chord, because Jad calmed down, considered it, and offered Noah a bargain.
“If I go with you… then you have to promise to tell me what you know.”
Noah tried to protest, but Jad wouldn’t let him.
“I’m not stupid—I know there’s something you’re not telling me. So, promise me you’ll tell me, and I’ll go with you.”
Noah looked at Miss Luella as if he needed her permission. But she just pursed her lips, and offered neither permission, nor veto. This decision was up to Noah.
“Okay,” Noah said. “Let’s find my friends. And then I promise I’ll tell you everything.”
“Good,” said Jad, heaving a satisfied breath. “Then what are you waiting for? Let’s get moving.”
18
I’ll Be Your Cocoon Today
WITH ANDI STRAPPED TO NOAH’S BACK, THEIR JOURNEY TO THE launchpad would have been next to impossible if he hadn’t had his animal traits to give him strength and stamina. She was an extremely heavy and awkward piece of luggage. Noah experimented with his newfound skill of fusing traits. Like closing his eyes and fusing bonobo agility with flying fox echolocation.
“You’re so good at using your animal things,” Jad said. “I’ll never be able to do what you do.”
“It’s just practice,” Noah said. “I bet you were good at sports because of it!”
“I was the high scorer on my SphereBash team,” said Jad, with a nostalgic grin that quickly turned to melancholy. “I wonder if I’ll ever play again.”
Noah knew if this was a Triastral sport, Jad probably wouldn’t.
“You could teach me, and we could play it together,” suggested Noah.
Jad snorted at that. “You need three arms and there are seventeen to a team, so…”
“Well,” said Noah, “that’s a skill I’ll never have, so you’ve got me beat there.”
The twenty-mile hike took Jad and Noah across all sorts of earthly terrains, from a miniature mountain to an Arctic tundra so cold it made Jad’s fur grow extra dense.
“It’s another stupid animal response I can’t control,” Jad said. “Chillax Bear.”
“Practice,” Noah reminded Jad. “Use it when it’s helpful. Suppress it when it’s not.”
“Easy as that.”
“I never said it was easy.” Although Noah’s body threatened to grow a hefty layer of walrus blubber (as it had done once before), he had learned to belay that biological order. Instead, he turned cold-blooded like a fish—in particular, the Arctic snailfish, which basically has antifreeze for blood.
They made their way through all the various engineered microclimates, until coming to a fence that marked the end of the fake-Earth habitat. And since no one was supposed to be in his habitat, this fence wasn’t electrified. They climbed it with ease.
On the other side of the fence was a flat, featureless plain—a region that had not yet been prepped for an occupant. There was nothing there but beige gravel, like an empty aquarium—and there, just a few miles across the expanse, was the launchpad.
“Maybe we should wait until it gets dark so we’re not seen,” suggested Jad. But this planet revolved slowly, and the sun was nowhere near the horizon.
“If we wait, that ship might launch—we can’t take that chance,” Noah said. Then he dug down deep and dredged up some natural camouflage. Cuttlefish crossed with a bit of chameleon. It made him look exactly like the gravel, but less shiny than the cuttlefish camo alone would look. His new electrically charged ability to combine traits had endless possibilities!
He turned to see Jad gawking at him. “I can’t do that.”
“Yes you can.” Noah sat Jad down on a rock, and they both focused.
“All animals have ways of hiding from predators,” Noah said. “But don’t just think of the animal. Instead, imagine the most embarrassing situation you can think of. One that would make you want to vanish.”
Jad’s big eyebrows furrowed. “Being caught in public with my fur shaved off,” Jad said. “I knew a kid who that happened to.”
“So imagine you’re that kid. Feel like they must have felt.”
Jad concentrated—and for a moment, all that thick silver fur went clear as glass. Not just the fur, but Jad’s entire body. Noah could see right through.
But in a moment the effect was gone. Jad released a frustrated sigh.
“Just keep practicing,” Noah said. “For now, stay behind me.”
They made their way across the gravel plain. As they neared the ship, they could see how impressive it was. It was silver and sleek, with an insignia that not even Noah’s brain tick could decipher.
“I know that symbol,” said Jad. “It’s the logo for Virgo Galactic—they’re the best spaceline. Much better than WarpBlue or Final Frontier.”
The launchpad was just a single pad, and a small terminal that was barely a terminal at all. Noah supposed the planet didn’t have many travelers. Just Fauxlites bringing in new N.O.A.H.s or checking on the ones that were already here. The fact that it wasn’t crowded would make it easier for Noah and Jad to get inside but also harder to go unnoticed once they were.
“Ooh!” said Jad. “Look at that!”
Noah followed Jad’s gaze to two Fauxlites near the entrance. Noah had only seen one Fauxlite in its natural form. It was when his “backup father” was shot on the day of the volcanic eruption. The laser blast had blown Noah’s backup father right out of his human skin. The species was humanoid but glowed as if they were made of light.
“They’re so beautiful!” Jad said.
“They might look beautiful on the outside,” warned Noah, “but inside they’re monsters.”
Even saying that made Noah’s heart sink, because it only reminded him that his own parents were members of this monstrous world-killing species. And so were Jad’s.
Once the two Fauxlites had left, Noah and Jad were able to sneak inside and hide behind a column, so as to not be seen. The terminal was little more than a waiting room. Just rows of benches and a vending machine full of little living things. A sign above the ramp that led up to the ship read FINAL BOARDING IN PROGRESS.
“Looks like we got here just in time,” Noah said.
“So we’re really gonna do this?” asked Jad.
“Too late to turn back now.”
The gate area was already empty, except for an agent and a single passenger arguing with her about his ticket. Although Noah’s camouflage had changed to mimic the color of the wall, at this close range, it only partially hid the suitcase strapped to his back and barely hid Jad at all. They’d be spotted if either the gate agent or the passenger happened to look directly at them.
At the counter, the disgruntled Fauxlite was getting increasingly frustrated, as evidenced by the reddening shade of his glow. “But I specifically requested a window cocoon!”
“I’m sorry, sir, but the window cocoons are all taken.”
“Then MOVE someone!”
“If you’d like, you can wait until the next transport, seven planetary rotations from now.”
“No! This is completely unacceptable!”
There was a small alcove to the right, and Noah saw exactly what they needed. It was an alien equivalent of a cloakroom, but instead of jackets and coats, there were artificial skins hanging on hooks. It was disturbing, but he supposed it would have been worse if any of them had been human. These were the skins of different alien species.
Noah grabbed two of them at random. “These skins will disguise us,” he told Jad. “Quick! Put one on!”
Jad looked at the limp thing in disgust. “Ew!”
“It’s easier if you don’t think about it.”
“But it’s not going to fit!”
“Trust me, I have experience with these things. They bend space, so no matter how small they look, you’ll fit inside.”
And with the sound of someone approaching, Jad had no choice but to comply.
The skins were two of the same species but not humanoid. Once sealed in the skins, Noah and Jad were giant eyeballs on thin stalks, with half a dozen crab claws for feet. The bending-space thing had compressed most of their bodies into those stalks, which couldn’t be more than three inches wide. But even with space-bending, Andi couldn’t fit inside with Noah.
“This feels weird,” said Jad. “I have no arms.”
“You have a tendril,” Noah pointed out. “Just roll with it.” Noah’s single worm-like tendril was all he had with which to drag Andi.
Just then, a Fauxlite came around a corner and stopped short when he saw them.
“Gleeb? Seymour? What are you doing here? I thought you left on last week’s transport!”
“Uh… yeah, we were supposed to,” said Noah, “but we had trouble with our Nascent Organic Aggregate Hybrid. It had an infection, so we had to take care of it, since it still believed we were its parents.”
That brought a slow eyeball turn from Jad, and Noah instantly regretted saying it.
“Your N.O.A.H. had an infection?” said the Fauxlite. “How troubling. What kind?”
“Pink eye,” said Noah.
“Really! Isn’t that fatal in Occuloids?”
“It can be,” said Noah. “So you can see why we had to miss last week’s transport.”
“Well,” said the Fauxlite, “I hope you cloned it in case it dies—or we’ll be in violation!”
“Of course, of course,” said Noah. “We cloned it the moment it got sick, right, Gleeb?”
“Uh… right,” said Jad. “And we cloned the clone just in case.”
The Fauxlite nodded his approval. “Good. Because those blasted inspectors look for every excuse to revoke our terraforming license. Well, good to see you both. Don’t forget to hang up your skins before you go, so they can be cleaned.”
“We’ll clean them when we get there,” Noah said. Wherever “there” was.
“Wearing your disguise off-planet!” said the Fauxlite. “That’s dedication!” Then he sauntered off, chuckling.
All at once it occurred to Noah that getting off this planet might mean a trip to the Fauxlite home world. Out of the frying pan into the fire. But when he mentioned that to Jad, who had traveled commercial starlines before, Jad dismissed that particular concern.
“Virgo Galactic doesn’t fly anywhere direct,” Jad said. “Have to change ships at Elgafar, which is light-years out of the way—and you’re always missing your connection. Ugh, don’t get me started.”
The Final Boarding sign was now flashing in earnest, and the disgruntled traveler was demanding to speak to someone in charge. The gate agent was so involved in the drama that she didn’t seem to care that the two crab-legged eyeballs weren’t presenting her with boarding passes. She just waved them up the ramp.
On board, a flight attendant greeted them. She was not Fauxlite, but of a different species. And she had two heads.
“Hi, we’re Beatrice,” said the two heads in unison. “Welcome aboard!”
“Thank you,” said Noah to one. “And thank you,” he said to the other.
“Do you need help finding your cocoons?”
“That’s okay, we’ll manage.”
Then one head whispered into the other one’s ear, and they both took a pointed look at Andi, who was still being dragged along by Noah’s root-like appendage. “I’m afraid that piece of luggage appears damaged beyond regulations.”
“Uh… right,” said Noah, fumbling for a way out of their scrutinous gazes. It was Jad who came to the rescue.
“I know, isn’t it awful? Our last trip was with Final Frontier. That’s what they did to it.”
One of the flight attendant’s heads shook in sympathy, while the other nodded knowingly. “I’m not surprised. With those discount starlines, you get what you pay for. Of course, that would never happen with us,” they said. “Enjoy your flight!” Then they went off to help a traveler who had somehow gotten turned upside down in her cocoon.
The cabin was circular like a barrel, rather than long and thin like an airplane fuselage. Green cocoons hung from the ceiling looking gooey and limp. The ones near the windows were all taken, but there were empty ones toward the center.
“I don’t like the look of those things,” said Noah.
“Don’t worry,” said Jad. “Travel cocoons are fine once you get used to them. Much better than cranial hooks.”
Just then, the disgruntled Fauxlite who had been arguing with the gate agent came aboard, glowing red with anger. He said something rude to Beatrice, then pushed his way past Noah and Jad, toward the center, clearly having not negotiated himself a window cocoon. He did pause, however, to be rude to them, too.
“What are you two staring at?” he sniped.
“Nothing,” said Jad.
“Yeah,” said Noah. “When you’re a giant eyeball, it’s your nature to stare.” Then he stared some more just to annoy him further.
“Those skins are hideous!” the man grumbled. “You should have taken them off before you boarded! Some people!” Then he reached out to a cocoon, and it sucked him inside.
Noah stowed Andi in the under-foot bin beneath the cocoon he had chosen, and when he looked up, Jad was already ensconced in an adjacent cocoon. Noah could only slightly make out Jad’s giant eyeball through the veiny green membrane of the cocoon. “All good,” said Jad’s muffled voice.
Noah leaned his own giant eyeball toward his cocoon, and it drew him in. He was now encased within a stretchy, rubbery membrane. It felt like a slimy green hammock and seemed comfortable enough, until it opened its eyes.
“Hi, I’m Kyle! I’ll be your cocoon today.”
Noah yelped in surprise.
“First time?” asked Kyle the cocoon. “Don’t worry, I promise not to digest you. Honestly, I couldn’t if I tried—all my acid glands have been removed in order to serve you better! Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to make your trip more comfortable!”
“Just leaving me alone would make me comfortable,” Noah said, not at all happy to be inside something alive. He felt a whole host of animal reactions swarming within him, but if any of them presented themselves, it would not end well for him, or for Kyle, so he suppressed them.
“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do? I can provide entertainment, if you like. I can sing a large variety of popular tunes.”
“No!” said Noah. “Please don’t sing!”
“Fine,” said Kyle, a bit miffed. “If silence is what you desire, then that’s what you’ll receive.” But not before Kyle gave the obligatory safety talk, which must have been mostly the same throughout the known universe.
While Kyle talked, Noah let his mind wander. Jad had said all outbound ships first go to an interstellar flight hub where travelers catch their various connections. It was hard enough to gain passage on a ship departing from a quiet planet—it would be much harder to do at a busy travel hub. Plus, they had no idea of their destination. If Ogden were with them, he could have identified it from star charts… but then maybe not, because star charts only showed celestial positions as they appeared from Earth.
