The wind picked up, the fog blew way, and Tootega announced a tropical storm developing. What we don't need. It made it easy to see the leaves, but almost impossible for Tuk who couldn't hold his arm steady. The robotic arm was like an elephant trunk, thrashing up,down, and sideways, It was afternoon by the time he'd ripped enough leaves, and I took us to five thousand feet.
We're in the galley. Tuk just secured the vivarium with suction cups to the window. I went down to storage for some sterilized soil for the bottom. So the snails can dig. We use it for the greenwall.
"Super suction works quite well." Tuk nods satisfied.
"Plus, the vivarium walls are electrochromic," I touch the bottom corner.Instantly the glass darkens. It's darker outside too and starting to rain. Hard.
"Excellent. We do not want the sun to cook our little escargots."
The mollusks slime slowly up, down and around the leaves. In my mind's ear there's a...chorus of high-pitched singing, "Our slime is prime!"
What does that even mean?A nano later, there's a chorus of, "Slimendiggers."
"Have you heard of a Slimendigger before?" I ask Tuk. "It's what they say they are."
"Gastropods?Slimendiggers? Most definitely!"
"Topical cyclone Uma is gaining strength. Expect extreme turbulence."Tootega announces.
"Hold onto the table!" I command Tuk, instinctively grabbing the table's edge with both hands.
The ship bumps hard. Up and down, left, then right.
We jerk and drop for one...two...three...four...five seconds. Losing altitude! The ship rocks and shudders harder. I don't need telepathy to feel Mig's terrified too.
"We've got to get out of here!" I exclaim, and bolt to my room.
Mig crouches next to my bed, eager for the safety of confinement underneath, in his own little cubby hole. Dad modified one of the drawers for him. It's definitely the safest spot during take offs,landings and whenever there's turbulence.
"Goodboy." I say, stroke between his ears, and open the screen door.
He slinks in fast. I shut it, and race down the hall to the cockpit, jammy butt in the pilot's seat, and buckle in. Tuk's already buckled in.
"What's going on with this storm, Tootega?" I sound like Mom when she interrogates me. "Audio only!"
"Coordinates indicate we are in the direct path of Uma, a category 5 cyclone."
"Tootega, help get us out of here!" I yell above the thundering rain.
There's a blinding flash of lightening in the same instant a thunderous boom that cracks the air and rings in my ears. "Hello...hello...hello," I mumble and can't hear my voice. The instrument panel flickers. The ship rocks uncontrollably. We drop again and my stomach lurches into my mouth.
Tuk grabs my shoulder. "The only way to avoid this cyclone is an extreme, rapid ascent."
I nod. It's all I can do.
"An extreme, rapid ascent to sixty thousand feet will put us above Uma." Tootega says. "I will need your assist on the control wheel."
I grab the wheel, palms sweaty. Wrap fingers tightly, heart pounding. Breathe. "Just tell me when!" I yell.
"Rapid ascent confirmed," she says. "Expect a force of 5 G's for seven seconds."
The clouds go from gray, to yellow, to a sickening green. Rain and wind pound the ship, roaring like a million booming drums.
I can barely hear her when she says, "Now."
Pulling the control wheel toward me, fast and smooth, I slam back in the chair. We bolt through the storm, like an emperor penguin rocketing out of the ocean. Feels like a walrus crushing my chest. Can't breathe. Head's about to explode, eyes about to pop out. Everything goes colorless as we level out. At the edge of the stratosphere, the atmosphere is smooth as glass. The silence sacred. Uma spirals below like a furious, foamy galaxy.
My heart pounds in my ears. I take a deep breath, release my grip. Fingers cramped. Stuck. Curled around the control wheel, they don't want to let go. Pull them away one by one, slowly, the control wheel wet with sweat.
"Well done Luki. Very well done!" Tuk exclaims, with a huge smile,beaming. "I could not have performed that operation better myself," and taps my shoulder.
I'm shaky, barely manage to grin, and take another deep breath. "How long will it take to get to Puerto Rico?"
"Just under nine hours. That assumes we travel at maximum speed." He replies.
"Takeover. I'm going to release Mig, and lie down."
His eyes brighten. "I thought you would never ask!"
***
Releasing Mig, I smell the poop. His turd is solid, and full of fur. I'm glad he's shedding. Easy to clean. I'll get Ssanibot later to disinfect his cubbyhole floor. I need to get horizontal, now. Dizzy, my body's like jelly. Could pass out. Strip off my pants, pull off the foot, crawl under the covers, and instantly fall asleep. Like dropping off a cliff into darkness, I wake dreaming, into a world of white.
Mom and Dad. Bedraggled, alive! Imprisoned. Behind white bars. A huge,barefoot man brings food. Puts their plates on the floor, and pushes with his big toe, sliding plates under the bars. An old man in red pajamas holds a scaly ball. The dream shifts. I'm outside a house I've never seen, and hold something wrapped. A gift. The door opens.Woka drapes his arms around me in a big hug.
"We have waited for you," he says and pulls me inside. "This is mama."
I nod, and give her the gift. She's small, and takes it with one hand. Squeezing my hand with the other, she pumps it up and down, smiling. Her nose and chin have tattooed lines. Strings of beads dangle below her ears from a headdress wrapped around her forehead. She points to a cake on a table set with forks, plates and teacups. Legs, arms, hands, feet,and heads of droid body parts scatter around the floor.
"This is Papa."Woka says. Big as a grizzly, his father wears no shirt. His chest is dark and hairy. He bends over to kiss me hard on each cheek. A legless droid on a platform with wheels rolls up next to him. The droid holds a tray with a bottle of clear liquid and tiny glasses.
"Even with no legs, Lyosha is good help." Woka says with pride, while the droid pours, and gives one to Papa.
His father shouts,"Bóodeem zdaróvye," with the same gap-toothed smile Woka has. He downs it, takes another tiny glass from Lyosha and puts it in my hand.
Woka grins and nudges me."A little vodka...polite to drink when first meeting."
I shrug, chug it like his father, and cough, spitting most of it out. It's terrible. My throat burns. My eyes tear. From nowhere Woka hands me a glass of water. I drink and the glass disappears when Woka takes my hand and leads me through a door in the back, outside.
His hand is warm. The night is cold and blue. Deep blue. The fresh snow is indigo. His tent in the distance is big and round with an orange glow that comes from inside. We wade quietly through a herd of cerulean blue caribou. They paw the earth making clicking noises.
Woka opens the tent flap, and holds it for me to enter first. Caribou fur covers the walls and ground inside. There's a fire pit in the middle.I crouch next to it, hugging my knees. Woka throws sticks on the embers from a small pile nearby, sits and leans into me. I rest my head on his shoulder. The flames dance higher, warming my hands and face. We don't speak. We don't need words. This refuge...pure bliss...the deepest contentment I've ever known. Woka feels it too.We are connected.
Slipping from the dream, something tickles my nose. Don't want to leave Woka.It's there again. Warm and wet, licking my nose and cheeks.
Open my eyes. Mig's snout in my face. He must be hungry. Never fed him last night. Check miniQ. Five am.
"Okay boy. Let's go. Let's get some food." I say, wipe my nose, and stretch.
We keep a supply of frozen voles and fish in the freezer for Mig, or whoever. I dig a few voles out, and drop them clanking in his metal bowl under the galley table. And hear a Nuwa song...in the cockpit? It's one of Aana's favorites.
I stick my head in the cockpit, "You sound just like her!" I blurt.
Tuk stops abruptly, and whips his head around, "I contain all her songs, and her dance moves...and agree with Frank and Virginia – Nuwa should sing at least one of your songs." He smiles. "It would naturally be a hit if she sang it, and it just might help end the extinction."
"You know her dance moves?" I can hardly believe it and plead, "Show me!"
"In that case, I need room to move. Tootega you are in charge until I return," he unbuckles, climbs out of his seat and into the hall,next to the galley across from me.
"Here is, 'I Do Not Bow to You,'" he announces.
He opens his mouth wide, and Nuwa's voice comes out.
"I bow to truth, I bow to wisdom, but I do not bow to you..."
This is Aana's absolute favorite. He sings it perfectly! Shaking his finger, swaying his hips, tilting his head...just like her! It's totally and completely weird. Like she's inside him, like she's taken over his body.
"I do not bow to you, I do not bow to you, no never will I doooooo...You left my heart in pieces, pieces. You left my heart in pieces!"
He's got all her moves,and in her shrill soprano, mimes tearing his heart out, and ripping it up. Flawlessly.
I can't help it, and start to laugh. "She always sounds like a baby mammal crying...or dying...she has to be a gynoid."
She's been the number one world artist for ten years and hasn't gotten any older. Not one tiny bit. The idea that she would sing one of my songs...a song to save endangereds...a song to save thousands or millions... a song blasting everywhere to help end the Sixth Extinction is irresistible. It wouldn't matter that I can't stand her. It's also impossible.
Tuk ends with a bow.
"Bravo!"I clap. "I'd give you a standing ovation, but I'm standing already."
"I appreciate your enthusiasm, but my talent for mimicry is simply part of my programming. It is not as remarkable as your mindsight, and ability to perceive spirit cords."
A spirit cord flashes in my mindsight just as he says that. "How soon before we get to PuertoRico?"
"Less than an hour." He replies.
I need to see the island. "Tootega, activate the galley lightscreen with a map of Puerto Rico."
The spirit cord pulses in my mindsight as the lightscreen in the wall above the 3-D printer flashes an island shaped like a rectangle.
"We should land here," I point to the southwest shore. "This is where the spirit cord leads. Zoom in where my finger is, Tootega."
She zooms and the map reads, 'Bosque Estatal de Guanica.'
"The Guanica Dry Forest," Tuk says. "Are you aware the island was decimated by hurricane Pablo three years ago?"
I shake my head.
"Tens of thousands perished. People and animals. The island never recovered. Landing will be tricky."
"Start the descent and call me when we're at five thousand feet. Your Nuwa impression inspired me to finish a song I've been working on."