Fish Tails (85 page)

Irritation overcame prudence and the words “thrumdraggit gatiplogs” rang out across the shoreline and stirred echoes from the far hills.

“What's a thrumdraggit gatiplog?” asked Beaver thoughtfully.

“Shhh,” said Precious Wind, pressing the buttons on her
ul xaolat
for linguistic search and retrieval, universal. After some time, “gatiplog”: term of derogation, literally dirt eater. “Thrum”: small, ugly animal. “Draggit”: misshapen.

The IGM sensed ­people present. Good. It would be a “well-­witnessed arrival” after all. Announcing one's presence was always an interesting interlude. Sometimes even amusing, as when one had to round up native creatures fleeing in terror and paralyze them temporarily. Or when one happened upon a world that conducted conversations in smells. Or a world on which the first word of introduction required four days, galactic time, to say in color emanations. Still, in general, introductions were creators of jollification. Self pushed a few levers, turned a small wheel, and the surface module cast about itself, rather in the manner of a large dog smelling out a trail before trundling away to the northeast, following the horses and wagons of the travelers. Inside it, Fixit leaned back and sighed.
How many Earth years ago was it—­not counting the time trips—­that Self had begun its plan? Several hundred years spent arranging for A to be born and when grown up mate with B and give birth to C, who when grown fathered D and then E, who gave birth to F, G, H, and finally I, who when grown fathered J, marvelous J, a really fun companion who—­just a few decades ago—­began playing role after role after role with a seductress named Lillis, as J had been repeatedly reequipped to do so.

Now that the last act was about to be played out, Self had actually become quite fond of some of the characters. Lillis/Grandma (wouldn't she be surprised if she knew!). And little Needly. Amazing. And the other young one, this Willum. Self had had
nothing whatsoever
to do with the planning of Willum, and what a strange young creature it was! Balytaniwassinot's ­people were quite differently reared, but sometimes Fixit actually envied the mankinds some aspects of their fathering and mothering.

Last act coming up. Climax. Finale. And the opening to the last act would be at the end of the trail the horse and wagon had made, the trail Balytaniwassinot was following with no apprehensions whatsoever. Because . . .

If it didn't work? If total failure resulted?

No one would even blink and it would not be held against Fixit.

Since “mankind” was included in the mix, total failure had been the forecast.

F
ROM
C
OW
B
LUFF'S REAR END,
Abasio watched something resembling an extremely large spherical turtle move out of the water and roll purposefully away in the direction of Wide Mountain Plaza. He said to Precious Wind, “Would you mind telling me what in the hilarious halls of the utterly ridiculous that is? And where's it going?”

Precious Wind said nothing, but Coyote, who had just arrived, replied, “We dunno. But we can track it, 'Basio.”

“A blind man with two left feet could track it! It's got wheels. It makes four separate great, round ditches in the sand.”

“Thas true. Just thought we'd offer,” said Bear. “You got anything for breakfast?”

It was the unanimous decision of the group consisting of four humans, four horses, one coyote, and one bear that they would have breakfast before following whatever the thing was—­that was following the wagons and horses—­that were undoubtedly going to be following the supply wagon—­that was following its own trail back to Wide Mountain Plaza.

The IGM had decided to improve the landscape. (Balytaniwassinot was napping and had neglected to turn off the optimize switch governing travel conditions. During most of the trip the horses et al. found themselves on a paved road.)

T
HAT NIGHT THE PLAZA WAS
lit with several fires. Lathered horses had brought slightly-­in-­advance warning of the approach of the Thing. The Thing had approached without deviating from its course. What was possibly the straightest road and probably the only paved road on the planet now joined Cow Bluff and Wide Mountain Plaza. When it woke, Balytaniwassinot knew it would have to remove the paving if the mankinds didn't want it. Arbitrarily Imposed Pavement was no doubt contrary to policy. The module rolled to a stop in the plaza.

From the surrounding buildings ­people emerged, some looking rather fearful, others merely interested. Abasio and his group rode up to surround the Thing. Some of them, including Abasio himself, dismounted. Others teetered nervously atop weary steeds.

There was a loud clang, and a wedge-­shaped piece of the Thing came loose at the top and the sides. Falling to the ground, the piece formed a ramp, wider at the bottom, down which came . . . something.

It was willowy, said Abasio to himself. Willowy and yet probably very strong. As a young willow tree might be if made out of steel cables. Roughly an erect cylinder or trunk, it walked on angled limblike limbs arranged around the bottom, six of them, each ending in a sorta-­foot, lead foot different from side foot different from hind foot. It had several, six, arms that were also limblike. The arms ended in various numbers of fingers that were obviously designed for various purposes. Several seemed to be intended as screwdrivers; one was unmistakably a spoon. Abasio found himself searching for a finger ending in a corkscrew. None. Pity; he'd had hopes.

The being had a nodule at the top that might be regarded as a head. After a moment or two it really appeared to be a head, as it had suddenly acquired a nose, mouth, two eyes, two ears, and . . . what was supposed, Abasio thought, to pass for hair. With each ensuing moment that passed, these features grew more . . . familiar. It was adopting local . . . color.

“I greet you,” said the creature. “I am titled Balytaniwassinot. I come from far away and bring greetings from the galactic overlords, whose humble servant I am.”

No one said anything, so what the hell? Abasio filled in. “We greet you in return. We are . . . amazed that you speak a language we can understand. Did you fall, drop . . . plunge into that lake back there?”

“Unfortunate but true. It was not . . . supposed to be there. Planetary charts are no longer accurate. There have been great . . . changes in recent . . . periods of time. Is this not true?'

Abasio nodded. He supposed so. The creature he confronted was not half as scary as the three he'd confronted under the Gaddir House, and they hadn't eaten him. Chances were, this one wouldn't either. He cleared his throat. “Are you here for some . . . ah, purpose?”

Good, good!
thought Balytaniwassinot. At least purpose was recognized. Could not get on with job until purpose was noted. “I am . . .” It paused, adjusted its resonator for clarity. “I am titled Balytaniwassinot, also short-­named Fixit! I will explain name. ‘Baly' means first-­chosen one, eldest in family. ‘Tani' means gender, I am a tan second gender of my five-­gendered ­people. ‘Wassinot' is earned name, last part of name given when creature manifests skill, talent, propensity. In my case, ‘wassinot' was given because of propensity to mend, repair, put in order, reestablish purposeful use of things. In your language ‘wassinot' would be . . . ‘fixit.' I am therefore Eldest Tan Who Fixes Things. You may call me ‘Fixit.' I am . . . an official of the galactic . . . ah, supervisory group. I have been sent.”

“Sent by whom?” said someone else.

Balytaniwassinot turned. A person wrapped in a colorful shawl-­blanket approached. A person who by its own manner defined itself as “important.” Balytaniwassinot bowed. “Personage,” he said.

“Why are you here?” asked the personage.

“One was sent. One was told to find certain loci.” Balytaniwassinot unfurled its memory leaf from under its fourth arm and referred to it. “One may find oneself anywhere in a galaxy by depending upon a concatenation of loci. There is present near here one female . . . Griffin. Griffin being a human-­constructed, self-­aware, basically mammalian, formerly mythical being with wings and the features of eagle, lion, and so forth. Is this so?”

“This is so,” said one of the creatures.

Balytaniwassinot said, “Check mark.” Self made a check mark, noting the local time and the galactic date. “Also is present, one female young of this Griffin?”

“This is also true.” This answer came from someone else.

Balytaniwassinot directed its face to smile. “You see, check mark, another check mark. Is also here one very large female mountain? Ah, maternal mountain?”

The creatures looked at one another. The personage before Self spoke: “I am Wide Mountain Mother.”

Balytaniwassinot allowed personage to see Self suffered confusion. Being confused always pleased newly approached races. It diluted one's impressive superiority, allowing one to seem more . . . local. “One is not mountain,” it said with intentional bafflement and a slight hint of charming confusion.

The speaker turned and pointed imperiously at the eastern horizon. “Do you see the end of the desert there?”

“It is apprehended.”

“Do you see that far to the north, that way, it rises and goes a long, long way south before it lowers itself again?”

“I do so perceive!”

“Most mountains stand among other mountains and most of them are tall. That one is alone and very, very wide. It is called Wide Mountain. Our ­people here are the Wide Mountain ­people. I am Mother-­Most of those ­people, and I am Wide Mountain Mother. Do you understand?”

“One apprehends. Another check mark! Now. Does one have here a Griffin demanding for its child, children, future in the seas?”

“We do.”

“Check mark. Does female offspring of same concur in demand?”

“It does.”

“Check mark.” Balytaniwassinot let the scroll extend farther. “Does world suffer incursion of creature calling self ‘Oracles'?”

For a moment no one spoke, then Grandma said, “I'm afraid it does. Yes.”

“Label pertaining to self?” Fixit directed a digit at her pointedly, as though it had no idea who or what she was. Fixit had been present at her birth, though unnoticeably.

“I am called . . . Lillis, or, more often, Grandma.”

“You are knowing said Oracles?”

“Yes,” she said disconsolately. Her whole world was going to hell in a handbasket. She just knew it.

“Check mark. We do proceed, do we not? Now, also, is one here recognizing name ‘Crash'?”

“I do,” said Abasio, as though in a dream. “He's a boy. Son of Jinian. He's somewhere else.”

“Somewhere else being Lom section of Ocalcalcalip. Where is Crash-­son-­of-­Jinian being seen by you?”

“I have repeating dreams. In my dream he's in the tower, damn it. Always in the tower.”

“Describing tower, please. Also does one here have recognition of statue of woman? Very unhappy woman?”

“The tower's white. It has a bell and a pool and the statue of the woman was in the tower,” said Abasio. “Every damned time.”

“Very good!” crowed Fixit, smiling broadly to remove the residuary apprehension that was still detectable in the surrounding . . . throng, group, assembly. “Broad Geological-­Protrusion Maternal Creature, can you provide help to move a heaviness out of intragalactic wormhole module? Men? Strong, yes? Something to use for rollers. Yes?”

They all watched, as though in a trance, while several logs were fetched as rollers for a dozen of the Wide Mountain men to use in rolling a stone statue of a contorted woman out of the . . . wormhole ship, down the ramp, and onto the plaza.

“Oh, poor thing,” cried Xulai and Precious Wind, almost as one voice.

“Not long poor thing, not long,” said Balytaniwassinot. “Very soon thousand-­year time is up. Woman received thousand-­year stone curse on Lom. Self not understanding curse methodology, but is evidently powerful on Lom. Curse is stone-­for-­one-­thousand-­years. However, curse is not intelligent. Curse cannot compute slow time or fast time; years there not so long as years here; added centuries due to crossing very many galactic time zones. Add fact also: wormhole time is compressed! One cannot go home again. Too soon ago. Now. Only few more points to check off list. Do persons here know spirit of planet. Urth, not?”

“We call it Earth, yes,” said Xulai. “I . . . we aren't aware of a spirit . . .”

“Being unaware not surprising. Too many mankinds always sucking makes very weak, sick spirit. Trees fall, spirit weakens. Oceans stink. Spirit weakens. Never very strong. All those ice ages, extinctions. Then plague of mankinds. Weakening, very weakening.”

It turned and called, its voice suddenly becoming a piercing sound that fled from where they were to the farthest mountains and retuned as echo: “Gaea! Gaea!”

They were silent, and it was not until several moments had passed that they saw the tiny, virtually transparent being standing next to Balytaniwassinot. The galactic officer patted it on its . . . upper protrusion. “T'cha. Poor thing, poor thing, why didn't you ask for help? Umm?”

“Din't know how,” it whimpered. “Hiding. 'Most no place left to hide . . .”

“She'll need remedial care,” said Balytaniwassinot, fixing them all with an unmistakable glare. “This is despicable what mankinds have done to her. I'll be taking over for her while she's in rehab and you will not try any of your nonsense with me. Oh, she's in bad shape. Oh, shame on you. Shameshameshame! All of you.”

“I resent that ‘all of you' bit,” said Grandma. “Some of us have been doing our very best to stop the misuse—­”

“And much good has your best done! Fiddling with Oracles. You don't have time for . . . Ah. I think my companions on this journey are stirring.” It went into the ship and returned after a time with two women. One older, but not aged. One quite young but with an air of strain and loss in her face. Immediately, two women from one of the surrounding houses moved forward. Wide Mountain Mother nodded at them, and they escorted the two passengers toward the nearest house, Mother's house. Placing and replacing the rolling logs, the men pushed the statue along behind them.