As Related by Her Eminence and Most Puissant Sentience Tara del D’myn, Matriarch of Skarsia and All Humanity
The verdict of the Combine Inquiry was in. I raced back to our suite to deliver the news to Ross.
“When presented with overwhelming evidence, the Combine has determined that the membership of the SongLuminants should be temporarily suspended,” I read. I knew from speaking with the representative of the Southern Coriolis Directorate that quite an internal upheaval was taking progress on Sealeesh. SCD assured me that by the time they returned to full membership, which they estimated to take several hundred rotations, we could expect a much different government. “In addition, as a special concession for all of the recent trouble, the Combine has awarded the exploitation rights to NG 2419 to the Nau’gsh.”
“NGC 2419 was historically known as ‘The Intergalactic Tramp.’ Do you think they were sending some kind of message?” I asked.
I expected Ross to be delighted at the news, but instead I found Hurley sitting on the side of the bed. It was a pleasant surprise: he emanates so rarely. I was hoping to spend some time with him, but it was not to be.
“I’m worried about Driscoll,” he said. “He still hasn’t completed his quest achievement, and he doesn’t seem to be making any move towards doing it.”
“You think that he’s deliberately trying to isolate himself?’ Hurley nodded. “It figures.”
“You know it isn’t good, though,” Hurley said. “Tarlach has tried to talk to him, but…”
“If Tarlach tried to convince him, Driscoll dug in even deeper. So you want me to talk to him instead.”
In reply, Hurley transformed into the mothman.
*****
I intend to get straight to business, so I bulldoze my way through Daniel’s flat before Davy has time to propose an orgy. The room is full of emanations, and I can feel their attention trailing after me like streamers. I almost make it, but Suibhne is waiting for me on the hilift.
« I have to show you something, » he says.
« Can it wait? »
« Driscoll can wait, » he says. « Driscoll has been waiting deliberately, but I need you to look right now. »
I expect to go to Suibhne’s room, but he takes me to Ailann’s instead. Which seems to come as a bit of a surprise to Ailann, who is lying naked in the middle of his temple, being sexually serviced by Harsh and Ellery.
« Sorry sorry, » says Suibhne, hopping over them.
I follow Suibhne. « Tara! » cries Harsh, rolling onto his stomach and grabbing at my skirts. I dodge out of reach. I know what he wants. Well, he wants one of two things: sex with me, or that I should give Ailann permission to fuck him. Probably both.
I follow Suibhne to the pool, weighing steamy action with my beloved Ailann, hot little Harsh and Ellery the candy boy against mediating in what is sure to be another one of Driscoll’s dramas.
Ugh, I promised Hurley.
« Look, » Suibhne says. He points into the middle of the reflecting pool.
It is a star, a silver star encased in shining mist. It doesn’t rotate as much as shimmer, and is unlike any nul-entity I’d ever seen before. « That’s incredible, » I murmur, transfixed.
« What the fuck is going on? » snaps Harsh. « This is a private gathering! »
Cüinn comes jogging across the field. « Tannon told me there was something I had to check out, » he says. « And he was right! That little nubbins is exhibiting a property I’d predicted to exist in nul-energy, but have never actually seen before. I was going to call it twinkle, but I know my naming conventions always get criticized, and then people don’t take me seriously as a scientist. So I’ve decided to call it glitter instead. »
« Cüinn, I don’t even know where to begin. »
« But it does glitter – see? »
I had to admit it did.
« Is he okay? » asks Suibhne. « Shall we get him for you? »
And then I realize that this isn’t about particle physics. This is a new recruit for the harem. « Do I want a man that glitters? »
« Mozart probably glittered, » says Suibhne. « And it’s historically documented that David Bowie did. »
Ailann has thrown his robe on, and joins us at the pool. « You’re overthinking it, » he says. « Take him if you want him. »
« But after what happened with Vassali, I’m hesitant. »
« You like Vassali, don’t you? »
« Yes, but…»
« The issue wasn’t with Vassali, but with the careless way in which he was incorporated, » says Ailann.
« Look, » says Suibhne. « This is from Hurley’s room. » He holds up a mason jar, wrapped in fabric, with a key glued to the side. « We can scoop it in the jar and then bring it down to the cave in Mt. Ouroboros. It can stay there with the Canopic Jars until we’re ready for it. »
« Just net him, » says Davy.
When did Davy come in?
« Tara likes him, » says Davy. « If she didn’t, I wouldn’t know his name. His name is X’khaim. Shuk-haim, with the aspirated h. It’s a Skarsian name, so it doesn’t sound anything like it’s pronounced. As if that’s different from Keltic names, hah. Tadgh has two unnecessary consonants and the wrong vowel. »
« He has a Skarsian name? » asks Dermot. « That’s very significant. Until now, every emanation has had a name from ancient Earth. »
« Why is everybody just barging in here? » asks Harsh.
« All right, Suibhne. Scoop him out. Then I’d better see what Driscoll is on about. »
« Get Darius to do it, » he says.
« Why Darius? »
« If he catches a star, it’s his achievement. »
Of course, everyone is here but Darius, who is never paying attention to anything which is happening right now. As Ailann nudges Darius’ branch, Harsh whispers, « Maybe you can come back here when you’re done with Driscoll. »
Darius arrives, looks into the pool and says, « Oh! I remember him. »
« How can you remember him? » asks Ailann. « We just found him. »
« I remember what he’s going to do, » says Darius.
« That isn’t actually remembering, » says Davy. « Even I know that. »
« I don’t get it, » says Darius. « I can only remember him when he’s one of us. How could I remember when he wasn’t? »
« That’s the point, » says Cüinn.
« But I remember what you’re going to do, too, » says Darius.
« Darius, » says Ailann, « you’d better catch him before something bad happens. »
Darius takes the jar from Suibhne and deftly retrieves the sparkling star from the water.
“Darius del Eden’d, Ipsissimal Archivist. 49th to emanate, 32 in the color scale, resonates to 131. 1.79 meters tall, cock size 15.89 cm when erect, apparent age 23. Archivist. Totem is Hibiscus syriacus, the Rose of Sharon, fixed star is Heka, the white spot, also called Meissa, the shining one. Esoteric symbol is the geomantic glyph Albus, the white. Dessert is nau’gsh madeleines with candied nau’gsh petals. Function is facilitative inertia, proto-conscious tendency is memory, designated Nostalgic. Blazon is lillifery, argent and pale rose, a cross fleuretté, argent.”
« Good to finally have you back, » says Ailann. Darius looks quickly at Ailann, alarmed, his lips slightly parted. It occurs to me that although Ailann said nothing, telegraphed nothing, that Darius is exactly the kind he goes for – the Ganymede type.
Stay and play with Ailann and three beautiful lovebois?
« Driscoll needs an intervention, » says Hurley.
« Hurley, what are you doing here? I thought you were emanated. »
« No, I came back inside when you did. Benbow is out there. »
I suppose there’s no avoiding it. But Lorcan is waiting on the hilift. « Nash has a little problem that only you can solve, » he says. « Can you come over to Yggdrasil for a bit? »
Hurley gives me a desperate look, and Lorcan puts an arm around him. « You can come too, » he says. « Driscoll can wait. Believe me, I know that Driscoll can wait. »
Lorcan leads me to a café on the 48th level of the Yggdrasil Tower. Nash is waiting, along with Dermot and Solomon, at a table covered with desserts. He looks downcast.
« Try these, » says Dermot, passing me the plate of panini. « They’re really good. »
« Oh, says Lorcan. « One other thing. You should give Dermot his gift. »
« I thought we were here to help Nash. »
Lorcan makes urging motions with his hand. « Number 100, » I announce.
The box appears, and I open it. It’s only then I see the look on Dermot’s face – surprised panic. His jaw drops, and the moth flies into his mouth. He gasps and chokes a little as he swallows it. Lorcan is snickering evilly, and I have the feeling I’ve been had. But I can’t really see the harm in giving Dermot his gift.
« So what are the three of you doing in the café? »
« We discovered the problem right after Solomon’s achievement, » Dermot replies.
Nash points to an ice cream sundae, sitting on the table. « It’s my cherry, » he says. « No matter how many they eat, it keeps reappearing. I, uh, thought I solved that problem at the party with Constantine…»
« Did you honestly think you were going to get rid of your cherry without me, you naughty boy? »
Nash averts his eyes, shamefaced.
« There’s only going to be one way to fix this, and a café isn’t a comfortable place to do it. Is there somewhere we can go? »
« Let’s ask the hilift, » suggests Lorcan. We go into the hall, and he commands, « Take us someplace where we can have an orgy. »
« Level 69, Love Hotel, » the hilift announces.
It’s one of those corny places with a heart-shaped bed, a heart-shaped bath, and mirrors everywhere. « Let’s get it done, » I command, shoving Nash back onto the bed.
« Ride me like a stallion, » says Nash.
« I’m afraid that metaphor is reserved for Sloane. »
« Ride me like a 1967 Ford Mustang convertible, » says Nash.
« I’ll accept that. »
« I think I’ll take a nice, relaxing bath, » says Lorcan, removing his clothes. « Anyone want to join me? »
Hurley also goes into the bath, but I can hear Solomon and Dermot having a conversation. Dermot is saying, « I’ve been so alone, » and Solomon is replying, « But I am really in love with you. Please let me…»
« I’m not very relaxed, » says Hurley. « Driscoll…»
« Driscoll will be fine, » says Lorcan.
Nash is a nice, smooth ride, and once he gets going, his attention is completely focused on me. I wish I could say the same. There are just too many distractions, like Solomon removing Dermot’s clothes. I can only see from the corner of my eye, and I don’t want to turn my head too much because, well, I’m fucking Nash now, and that would be rude. Then I realize that I can see better by directing my gaze at one of the mirrors on the wall.
Dermot finally nerves himself into a kiss – Dermot is really shy. Really shy – in our encounters – which weren’t all that many – I never got a look at him in full daylight. Even now, I can’t see the best parts because Solomon is in the way. He’s persistent, and soon I see him pulling Dermot down onto the rambat hide bath rug.
« Hurley, stop moping, » says Lorcan. « Driscoll doesn’t deserve you. He probably does deserve me, but that’s beside the point. »
On the floor, Dermot is moaning loudly when Solomon shouts – and I mean shouts – « HOLY FUCKING COMPOST YOU GUYS HAVE GOT TO SEE THIS!!! »
I glance into the mirror, but I can’t quite see. And yet I get the impression of something that I have to look at, something glowing and numinous…somehow, Nash and I both end up on the floor, standing over Dermot and Solomon, as do the pair of dripping wet boys from the bath.
« Are we sure that isn’t the sangraal? » gasps Hurley.
We’re all staring at Dermot’s glans penis, which is unquestionably, literally, the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
« Isn’t that something? » murmurs Lorcan. « The beauty spot was hidden under the foreskin. »
« It isn’t a love thing, though, » says Solomon. « It’s more of a sex thing. More of a…»
« I really have to fuck that, » I announce, straddling him.
*****
Later, much later, and after I have given Dermot blanket permission to fuck any emanation he wants because what a tragedy if he didn’t, I finally make it up to Driscoll’s room.
Driscoll is working on a painting of Manan. When I enter, he gives me a long-suffering look.
« What’s this I hear about you refusing to complete the quest achievement? »
« I haven’t exactly refused, » he says. « I just haven’t found an achievement to suit me. »
« That’s bullshit, and you know it. You’re trying to isolate yourself again. »
« Is that what Hurley told you? He worries so much over me. »
« He loves you. »
« Or perhaps Tarlach. Tarlach would love to get me on his couch so that he could teach me to be free with my pollen. Personally, I like to maintain my standards. »
« Standards are one thing, divorcing yourself from your own nature is another. Like it or not, you’re a Cu’enashti emanation, part of a communal entity. If you don’t play, the community suffers. Ash suffers, and I won’t have that. »
Driscoll sighs exaggeratedly, and casts a melancholy glance out of the windowed wall.
« Look, maybe I can help you complete the achievement. That should be an incentive, right? »
« I suppose, » he sniffs.
« Look at the list of what’s left. Is there anything that we could easily do? »
« Honestly, there is one that I was considering, » he says, handing me a box.
« What’s this? » I open it. It looks like a military uniform.
« Put it on, » he says.
It is a military uniform, but the most impractical one I’ve seen in my life. The chest is too small, and seems constructed to funnel my breasts towards the gaping buttons. The skirt barely reaches past my crotch, and was clearly designed for a woman, unlike me, of little booty. The most ridiculous part is the shoes, five inch heels that would be a dangerous proposition at a dinner party, let alone in combat. The gun looks like business, but straps around the thigh rather than a more convenient belt or shoulder holster. Were I wearing cargo pants, it would be fine, but there’s no way to draw the weapon without potentially flashing my panties and possibly incurring a run in the ludicrous nylon stockings.
« What the hell is this? » I ask. « Is some branch of the military employing ritualized sexual harassment on its recruits – a division on Volparnu, perhaps? I’ll put a stop to it. »
« I picked it up back in Squirrelworld, » says Driscoll.
I had been so busy adjusting the poorly fitting travesty that I had failed to notice Driscoll was also changing his attire. Now he’s wearing what appears to be a cross between a military uniform and a sailor boy costume. He’s staring at me, grinning from ear to ear. « Don’t you recognize them? » he asks. « It’s Major Regrettes and Major Minor from Haploid Transport Eruption. »
« What achievement is this? »
« It’s #45, » he says, clearing his throat. « “Have cosplay sex.” »
« You set this up, » I snap, shoving him back onto the bed.
“Driscoll Garett, Ipsissimal Portraiturist. 15th to emanate, 18 in the color scale, resonates to 61. 1.727 meters tall, cock size 15.48 cm when erect, apparent age 30. Artist and gallery owner. Totem is Zanthoxylum americanum, the prickly-ash, fixed star is the Peacock Star. Esoteric symbol is the Archimedean solid snub dodecahedron. Dessert is shortcake with sweet and sour pickled nau’gsh and hard sauce. Function is exegetic inertia, proto-conscious tendency is discrimination, designated Proud. Blazon is apricot, kanji for tree and artist, argent.”
« Good things come to those who wait, » says Driscoll.
*****
Later – after weird kink and weirder cigarettes with Driscoll – much later – after returning to Ailann’s temple to find that Cillian had arrived with Callum in tow, and was establishing a strict military discipline on the lovely young sprouts – I returned to the Ipsissimal Suite, exhausted. Benbow was waiting for me.
“I remembered to bring the pastry boats,” he said.
Why not? I love nau’gsh crème. Also, the nau’gsh component of these desserts is imbued with the same nul-energy I’d get from eating one of their apples. “These are good.” I licked the crème off my fingers.
“Nash seemed to like them.” Suddenly, Benbow was embarrassed.
“Nash?”
“We were trying to help Solomon. Somehow, it turned into a foursome.”
“Oh, what you guys get up to when I’m not around. And I’m a little peeved since you violated my droit de seigneur.”
“I don’t think it counts,” said Benbow, shamefaced. “No matter how many of his cherries I ate, they kept regenerating on top of the ice cream.”
“I took care of that problem.” I flopped onto the bed, closing my eyes.
Benbow said nothing. It was strange – Benbow is generally quite boisterous and talkative.
“Excuse me,” he said, running into the bathroom. I could hear the sound of retching. I rubbed my forehead. The nau’gshtamine amide-t was starting to take effect, and I could feel his stomach fluttering and churning.
“Are you ill?” It was alarming. In order for Cu’enashti emanations to become ill, something has to be messing with their alchemical regeneration. After all the troubles we’d gone through this year, I was on the alert for another potential attack.
Benbow emerged a moment later. “I think I’m seasick,” he said. “It’s so hard for me to breathe.” He sat down near me, shaking his head. “Don’t worry. It’s nothing. Oh, Hurley left a letter for you.”
“An actual letter, and not a message?” Benbow nodded. It had been placed under my pillow.
I read it aloud: “The farther a ship may roam, the more it needs a star to guide it home. No exemption.”
“What the hell?” I muttered. I glanced up at Benbow. He was staring at me with moist eyes, but it was difficult for me to tell if they were shining with joy or misery.
“Quennel was right,” he said. “To think I chose this.”
Appendix: Quest Achievement Scorecard