When Chenille Is Not Enough

The transport pod approached the mother ship on the far side of the moon. A portal on the underside of the larger vessel dilated like an old-fashioned camera lens. The light brightened the hull before it was swallowed by the vacuum of space.

Inside the pod, the screen flashed blue twice, then purple. Marsel’s face appeared. “We’re ready to begin docking procedures. Engage autopilot subroutine number three.”

Scott sat in the chair at the console. “Bozidar is . . . indisposed. Tell me what to do.”

“Indisposed?” Marsel said, his voice rising through the word. “What do you mean? Have you taken control of the ship? Is he still alive?”

“Not deposed, indisposed,” he said. “And keep your voice down. Edna and Cecily are asleep. Bozidar is curled up on the floor. He was biting his hand but I got him to stop that.” He examined the screen. “If I could figure out how to move the camera on this thing I would show you.”

“That will not be necessary,” Marsel said. “I understand the situation. I will have a medical team waiting for you. How are the others?”

“You mean Rupon and the rest? They hid out in the cargo hold.”

“A wise decision.” Marsel looked down, then leaned out of view. “I have engaged the over-ride protocol. The docking procedure is relatively simple, but please ensure that all passengers are secure.”

Scott braced himself to protect Cecily and Edna while they slept like passengers on a subway bench. Bozidar moaned and stuck his fingers in his mouth. The pod jerked once, and the sound of metal clamping onto metal echoed softly.

“The pod is at rest, and the engines will complete the power cycle in a moment,” Marsel said. “The hatch will open when that is finished.”

Scott shook Cecily. “Time to get up. We’re here.”

She opened one eye and yawned. “We’ve landed?”

“You could call it that. We’re in a hanger bay. The hatch will open soon.”

Cecily nudged Edna with her elbow. “Rise and shine.”

A low growl rumbled in Edna’s throat. “Unless something’s on fire, it’s too early to get up.” She shifted on the seat and wrapped her arms around herself.

Scott helped Cecily to her feet. “Wake up, Edna. You’re not on Earth anymore. And this ship has a window.”

Edna’s eyelashes pulled her lids up over her eyeballs. Understanding returned to her gaze. She jerked to sitting. “We’re here? What are we waiting for?”

“The door, Grandma,” Cecily said. “We can’t go through the walls . . . oh, my!”

A pink rectangle glowed on the wall behind Edna. Cecily and Scott each grabbed one of her arms and lifted her off the seat. As the light intensified, that section of the wall slid up toward the ceiling like a garage door rolling up a track.

“Wow,” Cecily said. “I never knew the door was there. We teleported before.”

“We can walk out now,” Scott said. He took a step forward and tugged on Edna’s arm until her foot moved. “Come along, dear. I know you don’t function in the mornings without your coffee, but all you have to do is put one foot in front of the other.”

“Not quite,” Cecily said. “Look.” She pointed to the hatch, which opened onto empty air. “The cargo bay is below us, remember?”

“So it is,” Scott said, inching to the edge.

The pod rested in a massive hanger, with three small flyers parked along the wall. The light was harsh, bright, and greener than the sunlight on Earth. Machines hummed as they chugged along tracks in the floor. Metal tubes ran like ribs up the walls, with occasional clear panels showing wires within.

A rumbling came from their right. Scott peered around the edge of the opening. “Looks like they’re moving a stairway for us.”

A shiny black platform rolled toward them. It bumped the hull and three clamps popped out of slots, anchoring the platform to the floor. Scott put one foot on the metal deck and tested it.

“It seems solid,” he said. He stepped to the center of the platform. He hopped in place twice, tiny jumps. “Very solid.” He extended his hand.

When Cecily and Edna joined him, a slot around the rim of the platform opened. Railings rose three feet from the slot and locked with a thump. Scott walked to the stairs, and similar slots opened around all the steps, with rails extending in unison. He motioned for the women to stay, and descended the stairway.

“Company’s coming,” he said when he reached the mid-point.

Three squat beings the color of ripe wheat on a summer day entered the hanger. They had stubby legs, and arms like the cardboard core at the center of a roll of paper towels. They wore short red scarves across their shoulders. Eye stalks protruded from box-like heads, and all of them were pointed at the stairway. The last creature pulled a wheeled cart.

“Is that the welcoming committee?” Cecily asked.

“Could be the med team Marsel arranged,” Scott said. He motioned for Cecily and Edna to follow him.

They descended step by step, watching for sudden movements from the aliens. Scott let Edna and Cecily clear the structure, then stood in front of them as the creatures approached. He pointed to the pod. “Bozidar is up there. Behind the console. On the floor.”

The lead team member squeaked something that could have been ‘thank you’ and scampered up the stairs. The one pulling the cart pressed a button on the handle. The wheels retracted and it floated in mid-air. The creature toddled up the stairway, now at the back of the cart, while the third member of the team steadied it from the front.

“Look,” Cecily said, pointing at the hanger door. “That must be Marsel.”

Another creature paused in the opening, then toddled forward. “Welcome,” he called. He bowed to Scott. “Husband of the descendant of She Who Found Us, your presence honors us.” He turned to Cecily and bowed lower. “Young descendant of She Who Found Us, we are in your debt.”

Edna put her hand on his head. “If you plan to call me the old descendant I will beat you senseless.”

Marsel’s eye stalks drooped. He bowed so low his body folded in the middle, making him look like a balloon animal. “My apologies. Would you prefer Matriarch or Elder Edna?”

Cecily inhaled sharply. “Protocol,” she said, almost to herself.

“What did you say?” Edna asked. She removed her hand from Marsel’s head. “Protocol? I don’t pay much mind to rules.”

“This would be a good time to start, dear,” Scott said. He tapped Marsel’s shoulder. “Bozidar mentioned we’d be getting special clothing for various ceremonies. We would be grateful for some advice on how we should behave.” He shot a warning scowl at Edna. “All of us.”

Marsel straightened, but his eye stalks whipped between Scott and Edna. “Surely the descendants of She Who Found Us will have an instinctual understanding of our traditions?”

“We didn’t know anything about you until a year ago,” Cecily said, eyebrows raised. “We didn’t know about the family connection until a couple of days ago. Why would you think we’ll know what to do when we reach your planet?”

“We’re fast learners,” Scott said. “Tell us what you want us to do, and give us time to practice. We can start over breakfast. Edna needs her coffee.”

***

Bozidar sucked on a nourishment tube. His brown suit lay on a bench. He sat in a square tub that resembled granite. The tub was filled with a substance the color and consistency of corn mush.

Marsel sat on a stool in front of a large monitor and several banks of dials, switches and panels. “I have tried everything I can think of, everything you can think of, and even some ridiculous suggestions from the engineering trainee. Nothing works. Your transformation may not be permanent, but I cannot reverse it. You will have to wait until we return home.”

Bozidar slurped the last of his food. He replaced the tube in a receptacle on the wall. “I have served my clan well. I do not deserve to be left in this condition.”

“Consider yourself fortunate,” Marsel said. Deep crimson smoke rings encircled him. “The renegades may never regain their true shape. And since the medical officer has determined your emotional state is fragile, I must train our guests in clan etiquette.”

“You will fail,” Bozidar said. “I tell you this with neither malice nor pride. Edna will defeat you.”

Marsel dropped his head to the console. “Are we positive that woman is related to She Who Found Us?”

“There is no doubt.” He tapped the rim of the tub. A joyless smile flickered across his face. “I trust the records show you arranged this visit. No one asked for my opinion.”

“I thought it would help.”

Bozidar snorted. “I believe the humans would call that a good intention. There is a saying on Earth that the road to Hell is paved with them. I’m not sure where Hell is, but I suspect it is the name of Edna’s ancestral home.”

Marsel jerked upright. “Blasphemy is unbecoming.” He toggled a switch and watched as the monitor revealed Cecily, Edna and Scott reading. “Although you are probably correct. We would have been better off with Susan.”

“We would have been better off if the taupes had crashed in the ocean, but they did not and we have our duty. When is the next etiquette lesson?”

“Soon.” Marsel flipped the switch again and the monitor went dark. “The male suggested giving them time to absorb the information on their own.”

“His name is Scott. They prefer names to honorifics.” Bozidar slipped into the pool of mush until it touched the bottom of his chin. “It is barbaric, but it is their way.”

Marsel slid off the stool and toddled to the tub. “You call their customs barbaric, but with no rancor. After all they have done to you, I am surprised.”

Bozidar lifted his hand and watched the liquid drip from his fingers. “Duty comes at a cost.”

“Shall I remind you of your condition when the medical team arrived? The word ‘catatonic’ was underlined. Three times.” He drummed his three fingers on the rim of the tub. “But that does suggest a reason why the transformation process refuses to reverse.”

Bozidar pushed himself to the front edge of the tub while Marsel brought up another report on the monitor. “What are those red bars?”

“Your stress hormone levels. Let me compare your readings with that of the others.”

Four other graphs appeared on the screen, one after another. Marsel put the graphs side-by-side. He changed the color of the stress hormone bars, then superimposed the readings.

“Interesting.” He pointed at the bars. “I gave you and each of the renegades a different color. As you can see, the readings are nearly identical.”

“What does that mean?”

Marsel pushed a button and the screen went dark again. “Perhaps we should leave the interpretation to a doctor. I can assemble the data, but a more trained eye is needed to explain it.”

***

Cecily flipped her book closed and leaned against the wall. She pulled her knees into her chest and rested her chin on them. “As nice as Marsel has been to us, and as pretty as this room is, I am underwhelmed by our adventure so far. I thought space travel would be exciting, but this is like cramming for finals in my dorm room.”

“Except the floor is cleaner,” Edna said, turning the page.

“I’m insulted, Grandma. You don’t know what my dorm room looked like.”

Edna didn’t look up. “I can guess, based on your room at home.”

“Ladies, please. We have a lot more to read before our etiquette lessons resume.” Scott scooted his chair away from the table. He walked the perimeter of the small cabin, examining the walls.

“What are you doing?” Edna asked.

“Looking for recording devices.” He ran his finger along a seam in the panels. “There is a fine line between sleeping quarters and a holding cell.”

Cecily leaned forward. “Pretty nice digs for a cell. Good carpet, private bathroom. At least I think that’s a bathroom.” She waved her hand at the seating area built into one curved wall. “That couch is really comfortable, and when was the last time you put throw pillows in a jail cell?”

“Let him be, child,” Edna said. “I trust his instincts.” She put the book aside and watched Scott. “Even if this isn’t a cell, I’ve got to believe there’ll be cameras everywhere. They’ve got them everywhere on Earth.”

“Is that how you got your last two tickets, Grandma?” Cecily asked with a chuckle. “Were they for speeding or running a red light?”

“Both.” Scott rolled up on his toes. “Aha. I bet that’s the camera, right there. I wonder if it’s wired for sound? Well, we’ll just have to chance it. Cecily, open your suitcase, please.”

She raised her eyebrow, but crossed the room and dragged her suitcase from underneath the sleeping platform. She put it on the bed and opened the lid, then turned it around so that Scott could not see into the case.

“Good girl.” Scott pressed his back against the wall under the camera, and lifted his sweater. He unwrapped a quarter yard of chenille from his waist and folded it into a compact square. He held it against his chest as he walked to the suitcase, then dropped it on top of Cecily’s clothes. He stood between Cecily and the camera while she hid the chenille in the middle of the case.

“Is that what I think it is?” Edna asked, turning another page. She remained still, but her eyes glittered and a smile played at the corners of her mouth. “You old dog.”

“Don’t joke, Grandma,” Cecily said. “I don’t think it was nice to bring - ”

“Only for insurance,” Scott said. “Bozidar needs us. Marsel seems to be on our side. We have no idea how the rest of the clan will behave.”

Cecily frowned, but returned the case under the bed. “It doesn’t show a lot of trust on our part. They’ve gone out of their way to make us comfortable. Look at how pretty this room is. I love the shade of blue they used. Like lapis lazuli.”

“It does complement your purple hair,” Edna said. “But the fact remains that one branch of the clan invaded our planet, and the rest sent a hit man after our family.”

A soft ringing tone, like distant church bells, rolled through the room. Cecily leaped to her feet, eyes darting around the ceiling. “Hello?” she asked the air.

The tone rang out again, this time accompanied by knocking.

“Ah,” Edna said, “that must be the doorbell. Come on in!”

The doorway panels separated, one sliding up and to the left, the other down and to the right. Bozidar entered first. Marsel carried a basket filled with folded fabrics, soft and shiny, in jewel tones. He placed the basket on the floor next to Edna.

“No velvets,” he said.

She ran her hands through the folds. “Nice.”

Cecily leaned over to look directly into Marsel’s eye stalks. “Thank you. You have treated us well, and I want you to know that I appreciate it.”

Marsel quivered, and his edges glowed a soft rosy pink. “Your gratitude is appreciated.”

“Space boy,” Edna said to Bozidar. “Got a question. Didn’t you say your arms and legs could grow?”

Bozidar nodded. “When the occasion demands, yes.”

She poked Marsel. “You’re about the size of my youngest granddaughter. I love her dearly, but I wouldn’t expect her to pilot a spaceship.”

“How does my height affect my training?” he asked.

“It doesn’t. I’d just feel more comfortable if you looked like a grown-up instead of a little kid.”

He looked to Bozidar, who shrugged but said nothing. Marsel retracted his eye stalks until the orbs rested on top of his head. The lids descended. A low gurgle rumbled in Marsel’s midsection. His legs stretched, and the flat disc at the bottom rippled and spread. The gurgle became a series of hiccups that traveled up his center line. His legs widened, and his disc foot thickened. The noises stopped, his lids retracted, and his eye stalks extended. The top of his head came just to Cecily’s nose, although his eyes looked down on the top of her head.

“Does this height inspire more confidence?” he asked.

Edna got up and came toe to foot-disc with him. “You could lose an inch or so. I’m about five foot four. I don’t want to trip over you, but I don’t want you to tower over me.”

He nodded. His body dropped, and a pinging noise popped around his legs as they shrank.

“Perfect,” Edna said when they were eye to eye stalk. She bent down and took a piece of tangerine-colored fabric from the basket. “And so is this. For my robes, I mean.”

Bozidar took the fabric. “May I suggest either one of the jade variations or the midnight blue?” he asked Cecily. Turning to Scott, he said, “I hope you have found the written material useful. Our translation program is comprehensive, but this is the first time we have used English.”

“It’s fine,” Scott said. “More of it will make sense when we start rehearsing. When will that happen?”

“As soon as the robes are made for you, and the others are released from the medical ward,” Marsel said.

“Released? Are they ill?” Cecily asked. She chose a bright jade and handed it to Bozidar. “You said they would be fine in the cargo hold, even after I told you it was too cramped. The trunk of Grandma’s Buick has more room.”

“The volume was more than sufficient, and they slept the entire way here,” Bozidar said.

Marsel pushed the basket toward Scott. “I should have been more precise. The renegades were not injured or sickened during the journey. They are undergoing tests to help us understand why we have not been able to reverse the transformation procedure.”

“Do they still look like bolts of fabric?” Edna asked.

“Yes,” Bozidar said. “Something about your planet, or our experience there, has interfered with our systems.”

“Your systems?” Scott asked. “Do you mean technical systems or physiological?”

“Physiological,” Marsel said. “At least, that is how it appears. The doctors will conduct more tests on our planet.” He pushed the basket closer to Scott. “And what would you prefer for your robes?”

Scott eyed the basket and choose a dark bronze. “This will do.”

“Oh, come on, honey,” Edna said. “Live a little. Try the crimson.”

Bozidar took the bronze fabric and folded it with Cecily and Edna’s choices. “This combination blends well. It is appropriate that your consort’s robes be more subdued than yours.”

Edna snickered. “Hear that, sweetie? You’re my consort.”

“And glad to be so, dear,” Scott said as he picked up the etiquette manual. “So when exactly will we begin our practical training for our public appearances?”

“The new ship arrives tomorrow. If the work on your robes goes according to schedule, and the doctors are satisfied with the tests on the renegades, you will be shuttled over after the last meal of the day,” Marsel said. “Once we are underway, you will receive instructions for the trial, and any other public events required of you.”

“How long will it take to get to Schtatik?” Cecily asked. “I still have some editing to do on the documentary.”

“Three of your days, assuming there are no unforeseen complications.”

Bozidar edged toward the door. “Perhaps you should begin the editing process now. It will help pass the time, if nothing more.”

“An excellent suggestion,” Marsel said as he backed into Bozidar. The door slid open and the two hopped into the corridor. “Enjoy your . . . morning?”

“Afternoon,” Bozidar whispered.

“Afternoon,” Marsel repeated as he pressed a panel on the corridor.

The door slid closed. Scott examined the wall. He passed his hand over an oval patch that was somewhat darker than the surrounding surface. The door slid open.

“Now we know how to leave.” He stepped into the corridor. “I think I’ll go back to our quarters. What would you like to do, Edna?”

She drummed her fingers on the table. “My brain has taken in all the protocol it can hold. Maybe I’ll head over to the observation deck again. There’s got to be something new to look at by now.”

“We’re still on the dark side of the moon, Grandma,” Cecily said. “Not likely to see anything we haven’t already seen.” She tilted her head. “Still, if you’re off on a wander, I’ll go with you.”

“To keep me company,” Edna said with a cackle, “or to keep me out of trouble?”