Out of Reach

       The departure was beautifully sombre: sunset faded, no moons. The blue gloomy confirmed the squid sentries below were asleep. Perfect. The Prince steered the balloon-equipped boat awayfrom sunset and toward the next dawn. It came quickly, followed by more suspiration over the scenery... The Prince brightened; he couldn’t brood long. The Fox compared the pockmarked, yellow-lit ground to cheese, then crispy chicken skin. I lounged at the stern, cap peak low, waiting for it to end. At least the light passing through the Rose’s petals was diverting. The Hunter spotted them first: unidentified objects between two trees (one dead, the other clinging to red and blue leaves). Smooth, monochrome, elongated ovals so unlike the ragged terrain. Rectangular pits surrounded them. The Prince turned the boat closer. The objects appeared cream-coloured, with transverse incisures and glossy black protrusions at one end. Ah. Heads. Formerly. "Dead caterpillars. So?" I muttered, choosing the most repellent phrasing. Maybe the squeamish lot would refuse to approach the mummies. Not that the bugs could revive, but the catchers’ residential module looming on the horizon unsettled me. It was a small planet. The Prince anchored the boat near the living tree, letting the Rose touch a pale red leaf while he took a blue one. Though all he could perceive was that the tree was "scared and lonely," but didn’t know why. The Rose added nothing, so he moved to check the caterpillars. For life? Let him. Another disappointment awaited. Mindful of the unknown danger, he lowered the boat to the roots. Threads from the larvae formed a low hill around the trunk; the other side was flat grey. Up close, the thread-hills were faded multicolour, bleached near-white. "Be careful!" the Rose pleaded. I’d have echoed her, but a better idea struck: send someone expendable first. "Let the Hunter go if he’s not scared," I blurted. "He’ll just jump to the notebook if in any trouble." "The Hunter fears nothing!" he declared, leaping down. There he paused. Nothing happened. He took steps. Nothing. But when he went faster the compacted threads gave way. He sank waist-deep in grey dust, yelped, and flopped on hid belly, rifle flat. Sound quicksand tactics, but not for his weight. One thrash buried him completely. The Prince lunged, then frantically flipped his notebook, and blew on a page. The Hunter materialised aboard, dust-caked, wide-eyed. Before accusations flew, I cut in: "See, no danger to you." The Hunter spat and sneezed. The Rose pitched in, though: "You could’ve gone yourself! You can return to the notebook too, after all. Why bait him?" Then she turned to the Hunter. "And why do you rise to such obvious bait?" He grumbled about "planning to scout anyway... Wait. Could I really retreat to the notebook any time? It might be a handy escape route, say, if the hybrid brat ambushed me. The Prince would fish me out for intel. How did it work? I recalled the sensation, but nothing happened. The Hunter’s explanation was garbled; speech wasn’t his forte. Like with the transit between pages: imagine the transition. The Fox tried and sparked out on attempt two. Repeatedly, until the Prince groaned, "I’m tired of fetching you back." But when I tried the same trick, nothing happened. So I was locked out too. No imagination, as the Prince said? He seemed to think likewise, suddenly asking how I had managed to walk between pages before. But before I could lie, the Hunter confessed that he had dragged me through last time, post-Rose planet. Damn him. "I don’t know," the Prince sighed, "whether to be upset I believed you again, or relieved you’re less dangerous than you pretend." "I didn’t lie. I said that I was shown how, not that I could do it myself. Your misunderstanding." He waved me off and returned to the experiments. He retrieved the unsinkable Hunter a dozen times. The exercise produced a number of findings: the threads retaining some colour bore weight; bleached ones held if you didn’t jump, but creaked and sagged since their undersides decayed to dusty fibre with quicksand properties. Here and there that loose dust cropped out, especially in delves between large threads or at the bottom of rectangular holes (must’ve been the Catchers mining the rigging threads and stripping the durable top layer). Most mummies were reachable over coloured threads. The Prince picked the smallest caterpillar—his height roughly, but fifteen paces long—on a hummock across a delve. He left the Rose aboard (wise), but I followed. The black protrusion was indeed a head. He pressed a palm to the smooth segment between bulbous eyes but heard nothing. "Told you. Useless." For emphasis, I tapped the beige flank. My fingers punched through the paper-thin shell; cracks spiderwebbed, and the body crumbled to dust. The head rolled to the Prince’s feet. He scolded me for disrespect to the deceased. Great. So he accepted their death. I pointed at other similar dark spots around, clearly left of other mummies disrespected by the Catchers. But instead of returning to the boat, the Prince flipped through his notebook. Why, he had already a vehicle... Then he blew on a page, and in a whirl of white sparks amidst the caterpillar's remains between me and the Prince, the King materialised. Dishevelled, in a torn nightgown. The only regalia remaining on him were the crown and the sceptre. And his indignant bellow. "Outrage! Nightmare!" "Everything is fine, Your Majesty, you are safe," the Prince tried to soothe him at once. "What happened?" "She nearly bit my head off! In the middle of the night! For no reason at all! I barely had time to block with my sceptre, or I'd have been left without a crown!" "Losing one's head is a noble fate for many glorious kings," I chimed in, but for safety's sake retreated further along the thread, careful so as not to tumble into the gap between the caterpillar and the tree. "But you, for some reason, preferred the life of a destitute vagrant to a royal demise." He positively jumped. "And it's all you and your hints! Scoundrel! Bet you knew that the queens of these ants eat their mates, and you didn't warn me!" And he charged at me, brandishing his sceptre. No, thanks. This one would strike. And with his height, he'd catch up quickly. I darted around another ditch towards a larger mummy. No need to look back; the approach of the enraged King was marked by thudding, cursing, and panting. The Prince seemed to have stayed put; his calls for calm came from a single spot. The Fox, from the tree's side, on the contrary, was encouraging the King, offering advice. There was the caterpillar nearby. The King too, but if I swerved left and crashed straight through the carcass, the whole thing would collapse and raise a dust screen. For about five seconds, but that's enough for me. I held my breath, squeezed my eyes shut, and dashed back blind. Two steps sideways to avoid tripping over its head, and full speed ahead; after three steps, I could open my eyes to check my course. Checked: all calculated perfectly. The King was behind me, swatting away dust and debris and even stumbling over the caterpillar's head, so I had time to skirt the gap back the same way and veer towards the mound of threads where the Prince remained. And when the King, after having sneezed and wiped his eyes, spotted me, a broad strip of loose ground separated us. And the half-defeated monarch set a course straight across, through the grey zone. "Stop! Don't go there!" the Prince shouted, waving his arms, stepping off the mound's crest towards the King, but the royal buffoon sunk up to his chest already. I slowed down. If questioned, I'd claim I only meant to put him into the notebook to calm him down. Without looking at me, the Prince took another step towards the edge of the dust pit, but the white thread under his shoe suddenly sagged and snapped. Good ridd— No, the Rose! Without him, she’d… I lunged down the slope, but the Prince was already sliding. All I could do was grab his collar—if I’d been fast enough. Human reflexes failed again; I caught only his scarf’s tail. Blast it! A tad tighter, and I’d throttle or break his neck. He flailed, finding no support. I dropped to my knees to avoid following him. Heavy! What was I doing, saving him again?! Hadn’t the last time been enough?! "Gimme your hand!" I hissed, risking my grip on the edge to stretch my left palm toward him. The thread creaked ominously. He hesitated, both hands clutching the scarf to avoid strangling. Damn it, he’ll fear I’ll drop him— But the Prince inhaled sharply… and obeyed. I seized his wrist, nearly lost him, then barely anchored myself. My strength was barely enough not to topple over, with no margin left for lifting him. He jerked, seeking footing. Oh no, that way he’d just dig the slope out from under us. "What are you doing?!" the Fox shrieked nearby. "If you dare—" Perfect timing, damn him. "Fox, it’s fine, stay back!" the Prince blurted, yanking out his notebook. If only I could shake it off him into the dust… But no, I could barely hold on, muscles screaming like during that time in the interstellar storm. The Fox acted first, muttering a mantra, and the ex-gloomy yanked the Prince up by the collar. I stayed prone, gasping. "What’s going on?" the Fox demanded. "I thought that slimy brat pushed you!" "Nonono!" the Prince shook his head. "Quite the opposite! I missed the rotten threads under the caterpillar scales. Snake, thank you!" He plopped beside me, grinning. Oh, choke on it. "Was it really that hard?" "For the disguise, I chose harmless over strong," I snapped. But at least he seemed to believe I had acted selflessly. Wait. I had saved him before, in the galactic rift on the way to the Planet of the Roses, with no repercussions. Why? Did this "karmic backlash" only apply to planetary-scale salvation? Or… Back then, I had needed him to implement my plan, fend off crabs, carry the Rose. And now? Was it just for her sake? Speaking of the roses… Where were her usual shrieks? I sat up, blinking. Ah. She had climbed the balloon ropes on the boat and seen that the commotion ended safely, no need for her to screech. The Prince was already soothing his notebook’s occupants, then blew two spark clouds out. The Hunter had charged to the noise blindly, tripped, and auto-notebooked (out of habit, not fear, he assured). The King ranted sotto voce until spotting the Rose, and flushed remembering his appearance, totally improper to face a lady. He slapped his tattered nightgown, and crouched, back turned. Stripped of all the curses, interjections, and figures of omission when he skipped parts, muttering under his breath that it wasn't for children, his story added nothing new to his initial outraged shrieks. Yes, everything between him and the Queen had been wonderful, the tree-planet was growing and greening, there was enough food, new workers of all necessary trades had hatched, but last night the crimson moth suddenly opened her forelegs on the other side, thorn-studded and sharp, and tried to tear her spouse's head off. Only the good old golden sceptre had given half a second to escape into the notebook. The Hunter snickered and inquired what a sceptre was needed in bed at night for, and the King fell completely silent and turned away, nose in the air. The Prince had to calm him down again, at least draw him a mantle (it ended up more like a poncho), so he wouldn't be too embarrassed to face the lady in the boat. Well, finally, they were going to return. On the way to the boat, the Prince caught my eye and shook his head with a sigh as if confirming my incorrigibility. Fine, I'd find a way to deny any malicious intent. The Fox was the first to reach the boat and jumped onto the stern to help Rose down from the balloons. She tumbled onto his head and suddenly looked into the distance. "Hey! What's that over there?" And what was it? Everyone turned, me included. Two dark patches were crawling across the hilly plain towards the trees. They spilled over the hills, vanished into the hollows. What they were dawned on me when the stars overhead began to flicker. The Prince too. "Those are shadows!" he exclaimed, and only had time to step towards Rose, looking up. And then the sun flickered as well. That is, of course, small opaque objects passed across its disc, ones that had blended with the black sky until then. The catchers' skiffs under black sails. The hive module still loomed in the distance. A winged silhouette was the first to swoop down beside the Prince. "I told you not to show yourrselves!" the pterosaur hissed, then barked loud: "Don't move! Rrhesistance is futile, you arre surrhounded!" Ropes were already unfurling between the high branches of the tree, star catchers sliding down them. The best of the crop, no less than a dozen, with five or more grasping limbs each, a cold, sharp weapon in one. Gleams ran along the blades. Crap. Even if the Hunter had an explosive round loaded, he'd take out two, maybe three catchers in one shot; the King might keep another at bay with his sceptre. But the Prince wouldn't fight living creatures in earnest, nor set his zoo on them. If I even managed to light the threads on the ground with a match, they'd be extinguished at once, and using the stolen bullets was tricky… No chance in open combat. All hope lay with the Prince and his diplomatic talents. Right, should I shield Rose from the other side of the Prince, or conversely, move away to draw the Catchers from her if they were after me? While I deliberated, the landing party was already pushing us apart from each other and from the boat under the tree. The Hunter was glancing around with wide eyes, clutching his rifle more to stop his hands shaking, while the Fox bared his teeth at his feet, tail tucked. The King maintained a royal haughtiness, and since he was twice or thrice the height of any catcher, they were careful not to approach within reach of his sceptre. He had the sense to pick Rose up in her pot and hide her under his new poncho. The ex-gloomy scurried in there too. I hoped it had the wit to grab her and fly quickly to a safe place in the worst-case scenario. No, that’s unlikely. Gloomies were naturally dumb. The Prince tried reaching her, but the pterosaur, two squids, and a familiar monkey—the hybrid's father, if I remembered the patterns on his belt correctly—blocked his way. "The sentrries spotted strrhange flashes here." The pterosaur glared at the Prince. Ah. Worried the Prince would reveal that the new captain had been consorting with outsiders behind the crew's back. And what had given us away were the flashes of light from all the movement between the notebook and reality. "Odd how Captain Krrchi missed them," one of the squids, very battered and covered in fresh scars, muttered. The pterosaur twitched his lower eyelid but said nothing. And she seemed to have fewer than eight tentacles. Was that the hybrid's mother after her failed duel for the captaincy? "But we haven't done anything wrong," the Prince spread his hands in a conciliatory gesture. He hadn't even switched to his enhanced form, so as not to provoke them. Correct, but would it be enough? Ugh, for the first time in history, I wanted him to 'win' a confrontation. "We don't need the leaves, wood, or resin, you know that perfectly well. On the contrary, we're looking for some clue, a way to restore the trees to life. That's to your benefit too!" "And? Found anything?" the monkey inquired, quite earnest. "Not yet, but—" "When did you get herre?" the pterosaur cut in. "At dawn," the Prince answered, puzzled, but I guessed where the new captain was heading. "See?" he turned to his subordinates. "The outsiderrs have been herre forr hourrs and haven't plucked a single leaf orr brrhanch. They arre harmless. But since they unsettle the Firrst Mate Yu so much, let them leave the planet unless they can’t fix the trrees. I orrderr you to ensurre they go back to theirr campsite." Oh, marvellous. If only the pair of rank-and-file squids flanking me would sheathe their blade-belts... "Not so fast…Captain," the first mate said with a meaningful pause, and something like sarcasm flickered in her expressionless voice. "How do you know all is well? Last time, we assumed outsiders were harmless. Look how that ended. And he’s loose," she jabbed a tentacle in my direction. "Who knows what he did here and when it will manifest? Little Prince, you clearly can’t control him.If you won’t kill him, we will do it for you." What? I retreated a couple of steps. The two other squids were standing too close, and their blade-belts were too sharp, and it was too early to test what would happen to me after death! "What have I got to do with it?" I protested for good measure, running through options, but they didn't get better. There was nowhere to run on this barren planet, they won't let me leave it, I wouldn't even have time to light a match for the explosive round to take some opponents with me… "I didn't ask Kai to steal the ship; quite the opposite!" The first mate didn't move from her spot, only blotches ran across her head-bubble, and another of her kind slid towards me, cutting off the route to the fields. Well, this was not good at all. She added evenly: "Perhaps. But you planted the idea. Captain Gran believed you to be very dangerous. That you doomed her home planet." "What nonsense, I never touched her planet!" I retorted, which was technically true: as usual, the queen of the marriks did everything herself back then, and I merely… consulted. "It seems to me, first mate," the pterosaur intervened, "that you want to excuse your offspring, like a doting mammal, while all the blame lies with him." Well, well. He did adopt my narrative after all. Pity the others didn't seem to agree with him. Especially the squids around me, posed for the strike but still hesitating. Were they waiting for an official order from the captain? "And it seems to me," the mother squid added with the same composure, "that you are the one shielding the outsider who paved your way to the captain's bridge." Right, I could intervene here. "Hmm, a mutiny, Yu?" I addressed her over the heads of the other squids. "You said you didn't want to seize power. Did you lie? And your captain just granted us leave…" "Captain Krrchi will change his decision," she replied, "if the crew disagrees. Just half the crew voted him in for captain. How many will vote to simply let the outsiders go if I sound the muster bell?" Just great. I’ve seen many power crises but never been a point on a political manifesto. The pterosaur’s eyelids twitched, he fell silent, looking over his crew, which was all squids, well, plus one monkey married to a squid, and a couple of cockroaches. Unlikely he'd risk his hard-won authorityfor strangers. Precisely. He clicked his beak and waved a dismissive claw, but didn't have time to give the go-ahead. "How could you, Krrchi?!" the Prince exclaimed, and simultaneously, from above, from one of the trees, came another shriek, piercing and familiar: "Wait!" Even the squids flinched. The little hybrid runt. How had he stayed silent until now if he was nearby, and why did he decide to take my side? The captain and first mate were equally baffled. "Kai, you escaped the detention?!" The pterosaur’s feather-scales bristled. "You'll answerr forr that separrately!" The squid-mother added something quietly as well, causing the hybrid to tuck his tail and back away. "But I wanted to help!" he wailed. He seemed to be unable to speak quietly, and so I listened, hoping for a clue, any information I could use to pressure the squid. "When the strike team assembled, I thought it was something serious, I could be useful, what if every limb counted, and I ran after you, I mean, I grabbed onto the bottom of the skiff…" "As you see, therre is no dangerr," the captain interrupted him. "Rrreturn to the skiff at once and wait until—" "No, I must…" here he dodged the pterosaur's claws, darted between the squids, and in two leaps was beside me. "You! If I can't prove it was you, not me, then let it be decided by a duel! I challenge you! Let only one walk away!"