The Ware Tetralogy by Rudy Rucker (ebook reader 8 inch .txt) 📕

software. But given an opportunity like this, a moldie could reproduce all alone. If you gave a moldie a seventy kilogram chunk of imipolex, it could replicate itself in seconds—provided it hadn’t done so within the last six months.

The six-month condition had to do with the fact that, when reproducing, a moldie’s system generated a growth hormone that spurred its mold-and-algae nervous system to speed-grow a fresh nervous system into virgin imipolex. Six months was how long it took a moldie’s body to generate a sufficient amount of its reproductive growth hormone.

The big Cappy Jane pie undulated over to the cube and began madly pecking away. Minutes later there were two pies. Due to the growth hormone limitation, the Cappy Jane moldies couldn’t reproduce any further than that, but for a while they kept pecking, bulking up their bodies with additional imipolex. Each of them grew to as large a size as his or nervous system could handle, and then they pooped out, leaving most of the gnawed imipolex cube still floating in the water.

_”Urp,” _belched the nearest Cappy Jane beak. “What a blowout. A clone-fest. I wish I had enough mold in me to breed over and over and over. Where did you get that terrific tool, Sue?”

“From some aliens,” said Yoke, not thinking to lie.

_”Yeek!” _screeched the pie-bird. “Aliens! Find them! Kill them! Emergency!” The pie lifted awkwardly out of the water, little take-off jets firing out of its underside. It was slow and heavy from having incorporated as much imipolex as it could possibly hold.

“Being a grex down here sucks,” cawed one of the birds in the flying pie, and twitched itself free. The disk broke up into pieces then, into twenty-four awkward-looking moldies. For now the other pie kept its integrity, floating there in the water. The freed Cappy Jane birds looked like featherless pelicans. Or maybe pterodactyls.

Back beyond the pie and the squawky birds, Yoke could glimpse the navy launch trying to circle around toward them. A figure was standing in the bow, tiny at this distance.

“The Metamartians are our—” Yoke had been about to say “friends,” but then she remembered Phil’s last warning. About how Shimmer had deliberately told the powerball to swallow her mother. But if the Cappy Janes wiped out the aliens, that might scotch any hope of getting Phil and Darla back.

“What?” croaked the closest Cappy Jane bird. “What did you say about the aliens, Sue? Metamartians you call them?”

“I’m not sure they’re enemies,” said Yoke lamely.

“Who knows where the Metamartians are?” screeched one of the birds still in the pie. “I want our grex to be the one to get them! Let’s test some poofballs, guys!” Like a flock of pistons, the birds in the pie rose and fell, successively belching out little balls of imipolex that burst into flame once they were well up into the air.

“Yee haw!” crowed one of the birds raucously. “Follow me to kill the Metamartians! I just found out their location from Squanto!”

“Ooops,” said Cobb.

“Oh, Squanto,” said Yoke.

“It’s hard, dammit,” said Cobb. “That Cappy Jane kept nosing at me and asking stuff about Vava’u and somehow an image popped out. I showed her the aliens looking out of that cave on the beach. But that’s all. I’m sorry. Anyway, you’re the one who really blew it. ‘Where did you get that wonderful tool, Sue?’ ”

Rather than probing any further, the Cappy Jane creatures lifted off in hot pursuit of the aliens. The leathery birds spread out their rumpled new wings. The great wobbly pie launched itself on steamy jets and, once airborne, began flapping like a stingray.

“I hope they find ‘em,” said Vaana. “Aliens mean trouble, Bou-Bou. Especially for moldies. They can move their minds right into a moldie’s body. They talk about freeware, ‘cept _we _the ones that get taken for free. It’s just as well if things get back to normal here.”

“I suppose so,” said the King. “And we’re still lovers?”

“Sho’,” said Vaana. “And the rest of the imipolex here, that’s for my people, right?”

“We already had a lot of your ‘people’ clean the imipolex out of our ship, Vaana. It was—daunting. I think it best to get rid of this. We’ve already had too much attention.”

“Let me fill up,” said Vaana, and assimilated as much of the imipolex as she could hold—swelling to perhaps twice her usual size. “I’m not quite ready to reproduce yet,” she said. “But Lord knows when the time comes I’ll be ready. You say all the other locals got some plastic too?”

“I don’t know about all, but it sure seemed like a lot of them,” said Yoke. “I think the King’s right about getting rid of this evidence.”

“Okay,” said Vaana.

Yoke sent her control mesh out over the sullenly floating imipolex cube and turned it back into seawater, complete with an assortment of local diatoms and plankton.

“Cobb and I are ready to leave, aren’t we, Cobb?” said Yoke.

“Okay,” said the old man. “Did we finish doing whatever we came here for?”

“Diving,” said Yoke. “I came here to dive. And Phil came to find me. We did have one good morning of snorkeling. I saw a wonderful little fish in a staghorn coral. And a giant clam.”

“Don’t forget the whale and squid,” said Cobb.

“Do you think the Cappy Janes will kill the aliens?” asked Yoke.

Cobb’s answer was drowned out in the roar of the navy launch that pulled up next to them. Aboard were Kennit, the two bodyguards, four sailors, and Tashtego and Daggoo.

Kennit and the bodyguards were grinning ear-to-ear, obviously thrilled at finding their king in good shape. It didn’t look like they cared one bit anymore about seeing HRH so cozy with Vaana. There were no guns in sight. “We got a ladder in the rear,” said Kennit. “Watch your step, Your Majesty. I think we ought to haul ass out of here. There’s some sharks in a feeding frenzy on the other side of the ship. Finishing off Onar.”

“Let’s bail,” Yoke said to Cobb. “Before everyone starts in on me again.”

“Okay,” said Cobb.

“Thanks awfully,” said the King, still bobbing on Vaana’s back. He extended his hand and Yoke shook it. “Do come visit Tonga again. Could I ask you one last favor?”

“You want more gold,” groaned Yoke.

“Just, you know, as you’re flying away, buzz the ship and put a few more tons in the hold? I’ll tell the captain not to fire on you. It would be so lovely to have our budget balanced. I did get you the alla, you know. You’re fixed for life now, Yoke. You’re a golden goose.”

“Honk honk,” sighed Yoke, looking down at her alla. “Though I may end up throwing this thing into the ocean. So all right, one last favor. And in return, Bou-Bou, I want you to do whatever you can to block any publicity about me and the alla. Don’t tell anything to the Cappy Janes. Stick to the Sue Miller and Squanto cover-up. And I hope the Tongan moldies don’t know too much?”

“Tashtego and Daggoo know more than the others,” said the King. “But nobody listens to Tongans. Let’s do our best to consider this entire interlude expunged from the historical record. Deny, deny, deny. It’s best this way for all of us. I wouldn’t want the Fijians to know I’m selling fairy gold.”

So Cobb and Yoke cautiously buzzed the navy ship, Yoke averting her eyes from the avid gray sharks who’d eaten Onar.

Captain Pulu waved a friendly go-ahead. They landed long enough for Yoke to outdo herself by making a perfect one-meter gold cube, weighing in at just under twenty tons. The cube was quite the elegant_ objet d’art._

But, in the event, making so massive an object out of thin air was fairly drastic.

As Yoke later calculated, if one kilogram of air takes up a cubic meter, twenty tons of air takes up a cube some twenty-seven meters on a side. A volume the size of a ten-story office building. Fortunately, she thought of making herself a pair of earplugs before she did it.

The whirlwind of so much air being sucked into the alla-cube made a thunderclap that knocked Cobb and Yoke off their feet. The ocean sloshed sullenly and some loose debris blew off the deck. But nobody was hurt, and the ship’s hull didn’t burst, and the captain didn’t shoot at them, and Yoke and Cobb flew on up into the sky, leaving the Tongans with nearly one hundred million dollars worth of gold.

“But wait, Cobb,” said Yoke as the ship began to dwindle below them. “We have to stop by the place where we slept last night. I want to bring my souvenirs.”

“What souvenirs?”

“Oh, just some little things. Come on, Cobb. We’ll do it fast.”

Ms. Teta, the housekeeper with the glossy bun, greeted them. She was dozing in the shade with the cook and the maid. “You want lunch today?”

“We’re going home,” said Yoke. “We’re all finished.”

“You been back for a while?” asked Ms. Teta. “I thought I heard you in your room.”

“No, I’ve been out on the ship with the King all morning.”

“Well, maybe it was your boyfriend.”

“Um, maybe?” said Yoke, her heart beating faster. She opened her room’s door with a mixture of hope and fear. But it looked the same as before, except that the beds had been made.

“So what are we taking?” asked Cobb.

Yoke picked up her glass sculpture and the looped metal band with the ants embossed on it. Phil had been with her when she’d made them. She spotted Phil’s dirty shirt from the day before, picked it up and sniff ed it. His smell. She wrapped it around the sculptures. And there was the big green bean Phil had been so proud of. Of course, that had to come too. Yoke’s eyes filled with tears. Last night had felt like the first of an endless series of similar nights—hard to believe it could have been the only one.

“Let’s go, Cobb.”

As they arced up into the sky, Cobb used telephoto vision to peer down at the beach where the aliens had been. Yoke shared in his vision via the uvvy. It looked like a pelican rookery and UFO landing field down there, with all the Cappy Jane birds and the giant disk. And—

“Oh Lord, they caught them,” said Yoke. “Why didn’t they run away!”

Cobb’s telephoto vision had a nearly unlimited zoom ability; Yoke was able to dial it up to see that the Cappy Janes had captured all seven Metamartians down there. They had Shimmer, Ptah, Peg, Siss, Wubwub, a new one that looked like a man-sized bird and—dialing up the magnification a bit more—Yoke could even see that one of the Cappy Jane birds was holding the little beetle Josef. The Cappy Janes kindled a fire in which the seven unresisting aliens were consumed.

“It’s hard to believe,” said Cobb.

“Maybe it has something to do with coming from two-dimensional time,” said Yoke. “They might not have much of a survival instinct? But that’s not how I saw Shimmer acting that time on the Moon. It’s weird. But, oh Cobb, with the aliens gone, how can I ever get Phil?”

“I don’t know,” said Cobb. “Could be you’ll have to give up on him. There’s more fish in the sea, Yoke.” He powered up for a bit longer, finally reaching a point where he could cut off his jets and let them coast along their trajectory.

“I just noticed that the Cappy Janes are locked onto our