GeneStorm: City in the Sky (22 page)

“Yes.” Kitterpokkie leaned forward, cupping her chin upon her hands. “Well we know that the cliff city is definitely there. We know it is well preserved. The chances of finding what we need there are excellent.” The mantis girl gave a sigh. “Not a glamorous expedition, perhaps. But useful – useful. It will be a stepping stone to marvellous things.”

“Marvellous things…”

Snapper put her brush aside, and leaned back in her seat.

“What if we did find it? Toby’s city in the sky?” She watched moths circling up above. “What if it’s really there?”

“Marvellous things…”

Over in the stables, Beau was charming the seamstresses, bowing to them as he brought them tea. Pendleton caught sight of the fox-pheasant’s tail, and seemed to quiver forward as if ready to bite the man on the rear. Snapper made a sharp clap of her hands, letting the creature know she had her eye upon it. The giant moth creature gave a pout, then strode off to find itself some dinner. Snapper shook her head.

“These suits had better work!” She picked up her brush once more. “I swear, if Pendleton absorbs radiation and mutates into some sort of city-smashing colossus, I am going to let him eat Beau, bones and all.”

There was work to do. Snapper fetched the next suit, and found her brush.

“Right! Painting seams! Off I go. We’ll get the rubber to coat these things with tomorrow. The guys at the rubber-tree plant farm are going to do a round-up for us.”

“Excellent.” Kitterpokkie rose and headed back to her gas masks. “Oh – can we mix different colours into the rubber paint?”

Snapper wrinkled her nose. “Let me guess. Beau wants his suit done in a different colour?”

“That was indeed his request.”

“I’m thinking candy stripe, or polka dot.” Snapper went back to her painting. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Throckmorton had always been an early riser. The first touch of sunlight upon his fine, well-tended leaves and he stirred instantly awake. Several of his little orange/magenta heads worked their chops. He stretched his tentacles, shivered his wings, then turned to rap carefully upon his wounded gas bladder.

All seemed well. Throckmorton shifted odd little fluids back and forth somewhere inside his tubes and tendrils, flooded some chambers and made more gas. He lifted off from his hammock in the kitchen and drifted quietly through the house, taking stock of the golden early dawn. Snapper was fast asleep in bed, naked but for a pair of underpants, and laughing at a joke inside her dreams. Kitterpokkie snored softly, lying with all six limbs splayed about at random. An assortment of guns, clothes, sabres and a compass were scattered all over Snapper’s room, ready to be packed for the great expedition.

The house lay quiet, and wonderfully at peace. A scent of boronia drifted in through the kitchen windows, and the budgerigars twittered merrily out in the stables. Throckmorton drifted out through the open windows to the stable drinking trough, where he splashed about like a gigantic sparrow in a bird bath. He drank, splashed and preened his petals, having a thoroughly good time. Finally he arose and shook himself dry, feeling perfectly happy with the coming day.

On the veranda underneath the shady vines, a great fuzzy purple presence stirred. Pendleton slept curled nose to tail, like some sort of immense woolly fox. The big creature opened one yellow eye, then stretched and yawned, flexing all six sets of toes. Pendleton shook himself, thieved a loaf of bread from the porch table, and came idling over to Throckmorton and cocked his head.

Throckmorton waved a tentacle, and led the way. Pendleton trotted behind him, and together they opened the gate and wandered out into the dusty lane.

The streets were quiet, with only a few riders here and there, a couple of early risers sweeping their doorsteps or pumping water from the public wells. The early morning watch on the walls was being changed, with half a dozen men heading up to man each wall, and another half dozen more to guard the broken gate. Black-powder grenades stood ready by the basket full, along with half a dozen old style muskets.

Pendleton and Throckmorton wandered along together through quiet streets in amiable silence. Occasionally the pair paused to enjoy the fragrance of a shade tree. Pendleton ate three bacon melons thieved from the back of a farm cart, then cruised silkily off to follow Throckmorton as the plant went wandering up towards the eastern gate.

The guards were all busy looking for ways to help shore up the broken gates. Throckmorton rowed past through the air, followed by the giant fuzzy burgundy mass that was Pendleton. The plant waved his tentacles towards the men in greeting.

“Good morning.”

“Morning. Uh…” The men tipped fingers to their helmet brims in greeting, but all moved back as Pendleton passed by. “Morning…”

Cavalry had been off on patrols, and militia men had been combing the farms and dells for Screamers, but no one had really taken the time to just poke about and ponder. And so Throckmorton went with Pemberton out to the north east, following the smashed bushes and trampled dirt left behind by the Screamer horde.

The plant had an excellent aerial view. Soaring up several dozen metres above the dirt, he could see the general pattern in the dust. The Screamer trail seemed to be made from many intertwining groups – as though several smaller packs had all followed the one route. Throckmorton led Pendleton onwards, and the moth creature became extremely interested in sniffing scent trails with his long feathery antennae.

Moth and plant worked together quite happily, walking out past the town’s bee-mouse hives, and on across a field of trampled wildflowers. They walked on until they came finally to a great patch of trodden scrub and grass – all mashed flat by countless Screamer claws. The trail led onwards towards Red-Rock gully in the distance.

Pendleton suddenly came to a halt. The creature stiffened his antennae, then bent down, waving the appendages slowly back and forth. He cruised forward, questing carefully, then came to a sudden halt beside a patch of trampled brush. He sat down and looked at Throckmorton with one huge yellow eye.

Throckmorton craned several heads down to peer in puzzlement at something that glittered in the dirt.

A small silver tube lay crushed and shattered. It was made from thin silver metal, and seemed to have been trampled by a great many Screamer feet. Throckmorton’s delicate tentacles lifted the tube. Small parts fell out of the shattered artefact – bits of plastic and little metal shards.

The plant pondered.

He scooped up everything he could, carrying it along with him for later examination. Nearby, Pendleton’s expression showed he was clearly feeling extremely smug and pleased with himself.

Cavalry had already followed the Screamer tracks into the gulley. Throckmorton led Pemberton away straight to the west. They moved back toward the town, parallel to the Screamer trail.

Throckmorton spied yet another something from above – a shiny object. He sank down and retrieved it, turning it over and over in his grasp.

It was a weird half-moon shaped crescent made out of iron or steel – quite shiny but a little scraped and abraded on one side. Throckmorton showed it to Pemberton, and the moth sniffed at it. He gave a scowl, clearly disliking the scent.

They headed back towards town, stopping to pick a bag full of very large grape-like fruit from a stand of trees. The two creatures passed back through the town gates, left some fruit with the friendly guards, then made their way home along the dusty streets.

In the front court of the Boneyard, work had already begun. Toby and Samuels were cutting leather while Beau fussed about with birds, tape measures and a notebook. Kitterpokkie was locked in an argument with Onan. It all seemed to be business as usual.

Snapper had arrayed herself in shorts, an apron and an old singlet, her bandage standing out white and clean on her thigh. She was in charge of cooking an improbable amount of pancakes and rounds of salami sausage, and the scents rising from the grill were utterly delicious. Out in the yard, more suits were being made, and a budgerigar was being measured. Beau brightened the moment he saw the errant travellers return.

“Pendleton! There you are, boy! Just in time for breakfast!”

The moth was rewarded with salami and pancakes. He ate them up with a great long snaking motion of his tongue, then settled down to watch the grill, exceeding pleased with life. He began thieving pancakes one by one, until Snapper caught him in the act and moved the food pile further out of reach.

“Beau! Control your moth-thingy!”

“Oh, he’s fine.” The fox-bird gave an indulgent wave. “Let him eat! He’s a growing boy.”

“Dear god, I hope not!”

Throckmorton deposited his gift of fruit into a bucket by the porch table, and then whirred softly over to Kitterpokkie. The mantis was deeply engaged in making yet more filter masks, and was trying to fit one over the head of Onan. The cockatoo kept stepping backwards every time Kitterpokkie tried to fit the mask, and the bird was rolling its canny eyes.

“Salty cracker!”

“I will not give you salty crackers merely for the act of standing still for six minutes!” The mantis spoke with some frustration: Onan was being quite uncooperative. “Now look – keep your rotten head still, or you might just have to breathe all the lovely radiation without one.”

“Salty cracker salty cracker!”

“I already gave you a…” Kitterpokkie stepped back in frustration. “Snapper!

The shark called out from over at the grill.

“Onan! Be good!” Snapper waved her spatula. “Salty crackers will be dispensed as part of your complete breakfast experience.” She rapped Pendleton on the beak as he tried to steal salami. “You too!”

With Onan’s mask finally fitted and marked for adjustments, Kitterpokkie could release the bird and put the mask back on her work table. Throckmorton hovered quietly in the air beside her, and wove his tentacles in greeting.

“Hello pretty mantis.”

“Hello Throckmorton, old thing! Have you been out clearing your head?”

“Went exploring.”

“Well do mind the gas bladder. I would not want to see that come under too much pressure for a few days.” The mantis carefully examined Throckmorton’s wound. The holes made by the bone dart had entirely closed over. “Yes, some good nitrates, and rest in partial shade. That ought to do it.”

The plant nodded several of his many heads. He then settled at the table, and carefully produced the crushed silver tube he had found. Kitterpokkie was immediately interested, and collected the pieces together.

“Where was this found?”

“On the Screamer trail. Stomped on many many times.”

“Therefore we must presume that it was in place before the Screamers arrived…” The mantis raised her voice, her attention still fixated on the crushed metal tube. “Snapper? Snapper, dear thing – come and look at what our friends have found.”

Snapper turned pancakes on the grill, then came stumping over. She gave Throckmorton a genial wave.

“Throcky! Should you be flying like that?”

“Throckymorton is well.”
The plant nodded several happy little heads.
“Shark should be resting her lower appendage.”

“Oh, it’s fine! See? All on the mend.”

Throckmorton sank down to inspect the Shark’s thighs.

“Will it become thinner?”

“No.” Snapper sounded frosty. “I’ll have you know my thighs are exactly the shape that they’re supposed to be.”

“OK.”

“They are rider’s thighs.” The shark gave a sniff. “None of you people know quality when you see it.”

Over amongst his pins and patterns, Beau helpfully raised one finger.

“For the record, I am an extremely great admirer of your thighs.” He placed a hand against his heart. “Truly most impressive!”

The shark glowered. Kitterpokkie politely intervened, turning Snapper’s attention to Throckmorton’s finds. “Moving hastily onward, what might be your opinion of this?”

The broken silver tube had been thoroughly crushed and flattened. Snapper bent down and carefully peered at the tube, and then at the little plastic parts that had once been carefully fitted inside. She used her spectacles as a magnifying glass.

“The chips are ancient tech… The tube is salvage…” She peered inside, finding nothing but flakes and wires. “It’s been wired together and soldered, though… “

“Not ancient technology?”

“No – just old tech assembled together into something else.” The shark motioned towards Kitterpokkie’s plasma rifle. “Sort of in the spirit of your boom stick over there.”

“My ‘boom stick’ is an original creation based upon ancient principals.
Not
a mere cludging together of old scrap.” The mantis gave a sniff. “There would seem to be a wire aerial attached to the tube. Could this be a radio?”

“Might be.
That
, however…” Snapper prized a small, hard disk from inside the tube. “Ah! This is an ancient power cell! Excellent! They can be recharged!”

“Can we use it?”

“We certainly can!”

The pancakes needed rescuing, but Toby was on hand. Snapper felt Throckmorton politely tap-tap-tapping on her arm, and gave the plant her full attention.