Out of Reach

       The squid remained at the module’s anchor, coiled like a sentinel. No slipping past her even if I manage to distract the Fox, Hunter, and Rose. The scheme involving the hybrid monkey went downhill; all I’d achieve was major ship damage, or, if very lucky, missed shards. Might as well chat with the Rose. She curled in the porch flowerbed, watching the ship through leaves rolled into binoculars, basking in lantern light (the Hive was positioned in a star-poor zone so that the starlight didn’t interfere with the repaired sails). The Fox blocked my approach as a petty revenge. Fine. I perched on the ruined wall, waiting. Soon, bubbling announced the squidlings’ arrival. “Hey, Fox,” I called, “my garden is being uprooted by your friends.” He turned in suspicion just as a dozen pipsqueaks began ‘exploring’ the vegetation (mostly by demolishing it). He lunged to protect the meals, the Hunter intervened, and my path was clear. As I stood, something wrong flickered in my peripheral vision. Something inside the house. I glanced over as if by chance. Well, the table and sofa were shifted after the collision, a couple of chairs had toppled to the floor, that was expected. But there was also a tail dangling from the ceiling beam. Thin, hairless, greyish-blue, like squid skin, twitching and nervous. Oh, I’ve been looking for him everywhere, and the hybrid holed up here! Now I ought to repeat the trick with the window and the sofa, like when I spoke with Rose, but… But the Rose herself, unlike the humans that time, was far too close to the opening and could overhear the conversation. Especially the little runt, with his sharp, simian voice. I walked over to the Rose anyway and sat nearer than she’d ever allowed. She scowled, brandishing her tendril, but didn’t strike. “So what were you doing up there, on the hive?” she asked suddenly, in a perfectly normal tone. And even… What? Did she just smile? Was I seeing things? “Anything interesting up there?” What timing. And what’s come over her? Or?.. Did she hope I’d boast my plans for trouble? No, once was enough for me, I wouldn’t repeat mistakes. Or was she trying to deter me from tricks, as I had suggested not long ago? I’d have been delighted to chat with her a few hours ago, or in an hour, but at this very moment I needed to get to the hybrid cub! And I counted on her moving away if I sat this close to her. Fine. Time for more drastic measures. “Oh, nothing much. Tagging along after the Geographer, or he’d have burst from curiosity. As for what’s interesting… Our young friend promised to take you for a tour later anyway. Let’s not deprive him of the pleasure to show you around, alright?” And I stroked a petal on the back of her head with my finger. I even had time to feel the silky texture before she squealed and pulled away. But she didn’t hit me, so that’s progress. The noise, however… “What was that?! I gave you permission to look at me, not to touch! Be so kind and keep your distance, or I’ll call the Fox!” “Sorry,” I shrugged, “Couldn’t help myself. You’re just very pleasant to the touch. But if you object, you can move away yourself at any moment.” “Couldn’t help yourself? That’s hard to believe,” she huffed, but she did clamber out of the flowerbed. And made it to the wattle fence. And barely managed to hide behind it from the Fox and his rowdy escort of squidlings. I was about to rush off to kick some squids away from her, but the Hunter arrived in time and shoved them aside with the butt of his rifle, for which he was spat on with ink. I could calmly return to the gap in the wall. Remembering how awkward it was to sit on the armrest, I lay back on the sofa, letting my legs dangle over the side so that from outside it was clear: here I am, resting, incapable of harming anyone. And no one outside would notice the tip of a prehensile tail and two thin, bare knees at the ceiling beam. The end of the tail now went still, now beat nervously against the beam. Excellent, the victim has already worked himself into a state; all that’s left is to give him a little nibble. “A pity you’ll never become a Catcher of Fire Crystals,” I said quietly towards the ceiling. The tail immediately jerked and vanished, and a triangular muzzle peered out from behind the wooden beam. Ears flattened, eyes reddened, thin fangs bared. “And why won’t I be?” the cub hissed. “I know all the rigging and spars and can run along them with my eyes closed. I can calculate the paths of crystals and stars. I can already haul up a sail on my own. I can get from the bow to the stern in twenty heartbeats! I’m as fast as a marrik and grip fast like a y! When I grow up, I’ll be the best Catcher in history, even better than Gran!” “Of course you will,” I replied as gently as possible. “Poor wording, sorry. I can see you’re better than all the other young ones. But… The Captain said these are the last fire stars. And they’ll be caught very soon. Which means you’ll be a great, uh… yard-runner. Or a deck-deployer. Or,” what other ridiculous and humiliating thing could I invent? “Or a skiff-driver. But you can’t become a catcher when there’s nothing left to catch.” The youngster stared at the floor, his face slowly crumpling, as if he was on the verge of bawling. No, I didn’t need loud noises, even with all the shouting, bubbling, and the Fox’s yells outside (the squidling band wasn’t obeying him very well). “Perhaps if you were to ask very nicely to be taken along…” “Nah, won’t work,” the cub objected at once, snuffling with his broad nose. “If Gran said she won’t take me on the Hunt, then she won’t take me.” “What if you sneak onto the ship yourself?” “How? There’s nowhere to hide, and if I just climb up the yard, they’ll throw me off. In front of everyone. Stupid idea, tailless one.” “Well then, no chance,” I sighed as mournfully as I could. “You are, of course, skillful and agile, but you can’t lead an entire ship for an intercept on your own. And they’ll leave guards on the ship, probably…” A silence fell. The idea clearly stunned the cub and fit poorly into his brain. Need to press from another angle so it slipped through after all. “Besides, it’s far too dangerous.” He turned, hanging down from the beam. His hide visibly changed colour from slate grey to lilac. “I’m not afraid of anything! It’s just… Well, alright, I can manage the ship. As if it’s a big deal to manoeuvre first towards the Beetroot and Foil stars, set the sails to three-five-zero…” and he rattled off navigation jargon. “There aren’t any guards on the very ship, but you can’t unfurl the sails without a single rustle, and then detach from the hive. Someone will wake up by all means, see the ship sailing off, and speed isn’t gained at once. They’d catch up in a skiff and give me a good thrashing. And Krrchi could fly through space even without a skiff, and he bites hard. So what do I do then?” The process is underway. 'What do I do' instead of 'won’t work'. “No, forget it,” I said slowly. “Even if the entire crew slept so soundly during departure that they wouldn’t hear a thing—and that’s not hard to arrange…” I trailed off. The hybrid nearly toppled in its eagerness, then dropped beside me. If only he’d keep his voice down. “Well?! Not hard, but how?” He seized my shoulder with such force that I nearly cried out myself. Right. He had the strength for it, not the brains… But then he twitched an ear and instantly shot back up to the beam. A moment later I understood why: the Hunter crawled in through the gap in the wall and sniffed the air. “Who are you talking to?” he inquired suspiciously, scrutinising the room carefully. He didn’t think to look up, and I didn’t betray the monkey squid with a gaze either. “Who to? To the only sane and nice counterpart around, that is to myself.” “And I thought …” He broke off mid-sentence when a particularly desperate shriek from the Fox came from outside, and rushed to help through the door. A couple of seconds later, the half-monkey descended again, but didn’t touch me this time and even had the sense to switch to a whisper. “What needs doing?” “Well,” I mused. “Before the flight, will you all be eating or drinking something together?” “Yes, the night-stew!” the cub yelped; I had to shush him. “Then you could approach the other tailless one, a bit taller than me, who walks around with a suitcase… well, a box on two little wheels. And ask him to sell you…” Here I fell silent again. Alas, strychnine or cyanide won’t do. The whole crew and staff won’t be dining at the same moment, after all. Only the hungriest would drop dead, and the rest, seeing the cyanotic corpses, would suspect foul play and refuse to eat from the same pot. And the kid would panic, forget his plan, and rush to tell the truth and repent. And the poison might affect living creatures of different classes differently. What if it doesn’t kill? Yes, there are slow poisons, like thallium, but would the Businessman have any? Besides, the Prince might well invite himself over and join the meal, and I don’t need him dead. No, I must promote a mere soporific, not too fast-acting but reliable. And one that works on both monkey-types and squid-types, and bird-types, and insect-types. Or… in addition to the sedative, name something specific for… for birds and reptiles, for example. What if I could poison the pterosaur? It would be an indirect murder of an entire race in the person of its last representative, after all. “You ask him for laudanum and cumin and secretly pour it into the pot with that stew of yours. But bear in mind, that person is a trader, which means he won’t give you anything for free, just for a pretty face and a thank you; he’ll demand something in exchange. A junior like you could offer…” What did he have on him? Coloured cloth wraps on his torso, a belt at the waist, but without the metal segments of the sabre, straps across the shoulders and above the knees… What about some sheath? Ah, right, he happened to have one, very short, on his belt. “Your knife, for example.” “What?!” His eyes bulged. “But that’s a weapon!” “One for kids, right?” I countered, almost whispering, to remind him to keep his voice down. “Surely after your first solo raid as a catcher, you’ll get a proper blade for adults, won’t you?” He stalled. “How did you say? Laudanum? Cumin?” Good boy, he got it. A few more touches. “Yes, that’s right. Clever lad, quick on the uptake. But perhaps you shouldn’t? Persistence is a good thing, one must fight for one’s dreams, and there is a saying that success is never blamed. But it’s better not to risk it needlessly. What if it doesn’t work?” He stretched his wide mouth into a grin. “I’ll make it work. You wouldn’t manage it, you only have two paws with fingers and no tail!” There he is, all perked up. I was already tired of reminding him about keeping quiet. He nodded in agreement and grimaced, listening to the squeaks and bubbling of the squids on the asteroid. “I had a tail once,” I smirked. “Who ripped it off?” “That’s a long story. If I start telling it, you won’t have time to prepare for the launch. Though maybe that would be for the best. If you stay, you definitely won’t mess up or fail.” He just snorted and darted back up onto the beam. “Just be careful,” I whispered after him, “The Second Mate Yu is on watch by our anchor.” “Oh. Fine, I’ll go the long way round.” He grinned, coiled his tail into a spiral, and shot out through the broken attic window. I went back outside too. The squids had grown bored with their new toy, the Fox, and had raced off to the living module. It seems, while the Second Mate was dispensing disciplinary slaps to them, her offspring managed to jump from the house chimney to the module. And until the conventional evening, I was bickering with the Fox. Rest in this chaos was impossible anyway, and a solid alibi is never a bad thing. The meal was set up on the rear end of the residential module. To avoid trouble, I declined to join, while the Fox and the Hunter happily volunteered to keep an eye on me. The pesky little squids had really got to them. The Prince, however, was firmly determined to take Rose visiting, while the Geographer and the Businessman hadn’t even returned to the asteroid and were still busy with their own affairs deep inside the module. To mask the unplanned additives in the pirates' meal, I remarked within the Prince’s hearing that I saw no point in eating the poor pirates out of house and home when we had our own foraging. The Prince considered it for a second and drew the conclusion I wanted: to take a couple of pumpkins as a return gift. Splendid. Any sleep effects or strange taste could then be blamed on the new, unfamiliar produce. To completely lull my guards' vigilance, I quickly claimed the sofa, brushing off a handful of small squids. The damned things were multiplying like vermin. Should I pull another little stunt a bit later? Like stealing the Prince’s notebook when he returned and collapsed to sleep, and chuck it into the resin. Voices, even songs, drifted from the hive. The Fox and the Hunter were playing an incomprehensible game, tossing animal names back and forth. Waiting for the rest of the people to return, I replayed the day’s events in my head. Had I said and done everything properly, left no evidence? Would everything work tomorrow? The monkey brat seemed happy enough, unlikely to get scared and back out. But the soul of another was a dark forest. And there were always chances of something damn unpredictable. After an indeterminate time, an almost rooster-like shriek tore through the air. And I realised I’d slept through everything, without any soporific. Blast, I didn’t get rid of the notebook! But perhaps it wouldn’t be necessary. So, had the performance already started? I listened to the voices around me, scanned the darkness beneath my eyelids, tried to sink into the shadow. No result. So, it was too early. I didn’t move, so as not to betray my interest, but listened carefully. The hoarse voice continued cackling. Who’s holding out that well? The Fox’s grumbling, the Hunter’s snoring, the quiet bubbling of squids, the creak of planks and rigging from the module. And finally, the familiar Captain’s screech: “All hands! Up! All hands on deck!” Now the Fox was alarmed, rushing to wake the Little Prince. The Rose’s voice chimed in, the Hunter was mumbling something and refusing to open his eyes. “Hm? What’s happening? Fire crystals?” the hero finally deigned to wake up. “No, or rather, I don’t know,” the Fox babbled. “There’s noise in the pirates' camp, but I don’t fancy going over there alone to find out what’s up, and you were sleeping so soundly and didn’t respond, just like on the Snake’s planet, I was actually scared… And speaking of snakes!” Someone tugged at my trouser leg. Fine, another three or four seconds, then I can feign waking up. “Wha?” I slurred as incoherently as possible, lifting my head only to meet a snarling muzzle. “Your doing?” “Where? What’s on fire? Leave me alone, I want to sleep.” “On fire? Is something burning?” the Rose fretted. Very well, I sat up on the sofa to look at her. She was standing in her pot on the table and gave an indignant yelp when the Prince ordered her to stay put while he went to see what was the matter. I followed him out to the porch. Nothing was burning, of course. The Captain was racing about the module, dragging sailors to the surface. The other tarsiers were getting up somehow, swaying and shaking their ears; I couldn’t see the shrieking pterosaur anywhere, but the squid were just bubbling, motionless. What’s more important, the black, sail-clad core of the ship was no longer beside the module. I rubbed my eyes, turned my head. Ah, there, from behind, not obscured by the sails, the catcher’s ship was visible: the matte gleam of resin, the pale stripes of masts, spars, and rigging. The little brat had already flown far! Right, and where was… And in another part of the sky, familiar glints flickered. I’d give the approach time a minute, a minute and a half at most. The spacefarers had no way of catching up, though the monkey-father of the young fool was launching a rescue skiff anyway. The old mokey, however, understood the futility of the attempt and was simply looking up. For the manoeuvre, the ship had flown off to the other side of the fragments' trajectory but was already turning to intercept. Sort of. At that distance, human vision didn’t provide a three-dimensional, clear picture. But the running sails weren’t shifting to get out of the shards’ way. The monkey cub—a barely discernible grey dot—was darting chaotically around the equator, and cries and voices from those who had managed to wake up came from the module. “Kai, move the wing, what are you waiting for?” Ah, his grandfather was waving all his limbs as if his grandson could hear or see him from here. False hopes; the traction cables are severed, and he wouldn’t have time to turn the ship’s repaired side towards the fragments now. Especially since the deployed sails were turning the ship’s nose towards the nearest source of light, the shards themselves. Another twenty or thirty seconds, and at least one white-hot projectile would slam into that lump of shit and sticks, and even if it missed the nimble monkey, it would guaranteed set the ropes and timbers on fire, and everything would burn before the rescue arrived. And the little chap wouldn’t tell anyone how a brilliant idea to catch the shards alone had occurred to him. And I would either be freed or easily deny my involvement if indirect murder wasn’t enough to return to my true form. A blue flash flickered in my peripheral vision. Oh, the Prince had switched to parade uniform and was drawing a bird on the side of B613. Did he really hope to make it in time? Only to retrieve a toasted monkey. But apparently, he did hope. He took a running jump onto the bird and sent it forward. But then, from above, from the roof of the house, another shadow, dark and mottled, shot onto the bird and knocked the Prince to the lawn. And let out a shriek that seemed to make both the module and the asteroid shudder. The drawn bird, startled, shot forward no worse than a star shard. The great-grandmother was rushing to her great-grandson’s aid. Who else could shriek like that? The Rose cried out from the gap in the wall. She’d got out after all. And the Fox rushed to help the Prince, but he was already struggling to his feet, still in his doublet. He seemed to realise that even on a second bird, he wouldn’t catch up with the Catchers' captain now. And she wouldn’t reach the ship before the shards, since the cub had taken too wide a detour to get into position. Everyone held their breath, and in the silence, even from that distance, the Captain’s shriek carried: “Full astern! Set the mizzen!” The old hag had no intention to get ahead of the shards. She was flying straight into their path. I realised what she was planning. At full speed, with acceleration, she’d slam into the side of the closest shard, and it would veer off course, knocking another piece off trajectory, while the little brat raced to the ship’s south pole, deploying the drag chute to let the projectiles pass ahead of him. Dammit all! Yes, she made it, yes, she rammed it, and her shriek was silenced in a flash of flame. In the scorching field of the fragment, the bird and its rider burned away without a trace in a second. At once, the Prince cried out and fell to his knees, clutching his chest, the blue doublet dissipated. What, the destruction of his imagined beast affected him? Need to remember that, but not now—now I was listening intently to the rising cries and murmurs, staring at the distorted, stunned muzzles of the Catchers, trying to discern the blackness of fear, despair, anger in the shadows, to plunge into it headlong, to hear the laughter of the gloomies, and I was calling them silently. After all, the last native inhabitant of an entire planet had just died! The shadows remained flat, the voices ordinary. I hadn’t gone anywhere and was still standing on the porch, gripping the railing to the point of pain. And then, another flash in the direction of the ship. The third fragment! Apparently, after shearing the side of B613, it had slowed or deviated slightly. And now it flew straight into the side mast. Sliced through it with ease and vanished into the blackness of the core, while barely perceptible tongues of flame and wisps of smoke ran along the walkways and ropes in all directions. I hadn’t even finished rejoicing that the plan was working after all, and that the shards were still at large, when I noticed another fluttering dot approaching the ship. The pterosaur. So it didn’t die from the cumin, then. Right, the little monkey had mentioned said he could fly on his own. And what use is one creature? But it was useful. The hybrid was already trying to haul the sail and spread the walkways manually to isolate the burning area but wasn’t fast enough. And the feathered one with the sabre sliced through the burning sail in two strokes and severed several spokes of the fan from the forward mast, sending them tumbling into the resin, then just as swiftly, directly, set about another sail. Clear. The damage would be limited to losing half the rigging. Dammit all. The whole venture ruined. Right, so the hypothesis about annihilating the population of an entire world was incorrect. Now I’d likely have to test the version with destruction of my own body. Because the cub stayed alive and could easily report who put him up to it. Pity he was the Captain’s kin. If he were some other’s whelp, I could try to wind up the old monkey’s descendants to execute the wretch on the spot, without trial or investigation, but they probably wouldn’t just slaughter their own son and grandson that easily. So, I must insist that I said nothing criminal to him, that I actively discouraged him, and that he botched it all himself. Explaining the soporific will be trickier, but there’s a little time. The slow, single-sail skiffs were still just picking up speed. And I should start right now, before he returned, acting as if I had no ill intent and was in shock myself. The Prince might even believe it. Didn’t he start doubting my motives after the Pit Planet? A bit early to test that trust’s strength, but what else was left? Maybe it would work. How is he, by the way? He was still curled up on the grass, and the Fox was nudging his face, calling to him. I jumped off the porch, walked towards them, beginning my speech on the move: “What a fool that tailed one is. Why?! I warned him nothing would come of it!” The Prince raised himself on an elbow and looked back at me. I froze mid-step. No need to see the shadows of emotions to understand: now I would finally test what would happen to me after the death of this body. Somehow, he got up, not taking his eyes off me. He reached out a fist, not a palm, to his chest, but nothing happened. Wow, the monkey’s death really upset him, if he couldn’t shift to battle form. In two steps he was beside me, grabbed me by the collar as if to choke me—and perhaps he meant to. “You!…” What a miscalculation! There was no trust, no point in counting on it. I wouldn’t have believed it in his place, and he’s no fool. For a moment, we froze face to face. I had time to note the tears on his cheeks, his constricted pupils, and then he turned away with a strangled groan and stepped back again. I could relax. No, too soon! The Prince was already pulling out his notebook. I’d rather he had throttled me. At least there’d have been a chance. He flipped open the cover… and there’s nowhere to run on the asteroid… and pulled a pencil from the book spine. Ah, alright then. Interesting, even, what he’d think up and draw. A few straight strokes. What sort of box? The Prince blew on the page, white sparks swirled, spread, enveloped everything around… oh no, he really did shove me into the notebook, not pull a new object out! What was the point of the drawing then? I looked around. That is, I wanted to look around, but couldn’t turn my head. Couldn’t move a finger, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t open my mouth, couldn’t close my eyes. I could only shift my gaze sideways, but to the side and ahead, only uniform beige nothingness. Damn it! He did invent a way to neutralise me even on paper! How? Well, I supposed I had an eternity to ponder that now. For the moment, I just wanted to swear out loud. But even that is impossible.