High Noon on Jefferson (scifi story): Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

We sat down in the living room of the cottage and, at first, we were at a loss for what to say, tink or think. We knew we had a deadline. We knew Dad and Khiara would do the right thing: they report the repticulates and ro-bats. We knew they were fundamentally good people - and to admit that about a probably future stepmom isn't always an easy thing, folks, even when they are good people. They might get into their own trouble, but when the stinky stuff hit the fan, Dad would be running towards the fire, not away from it. Even if it risked himself. I had an uncomfortable feeling Khiara was the same way.

I took a deep breath and tinked a request for a vote. We needed to decide if we were going to go forward. Whatever we had thought we were doing on the walk back, we needed to make it explicit. If a prankster didn't want a part of this, then we needed to know and decide if that was going to stop us. We had been the five musketeers, but this was about to get really, really serious and we were not out to save or catch just my Dad. There was someone else out there. And they were probably not going to be gentle. Neither would the authorities.

And we still had to deal with Maven. After all, she and her Derplicates had ditched school to find whomever, whatever was creating and running the repticulates and robats.

Jackie and Tom immediately tinked back they were in. Tom broadcasted a fake indignation: how dare I doubt his willingness to get into deep trouble! He was trouble incarnate! He was trouble times two! He was...a real pain in the rumpus maximus, but he was one of my Merry Pranksters. Jackie, like always, was a rock. Whatever doubts she had, whatever fears she feared, she was in and left it at that. She was strong, physically and in her deepest core.

Veena and Rosa looked at one another. They looked down. They looked up. They looked back to one another. They were clearly having a private discussion. They announced they were going to need more time. Time to think. Time to consider. Time to decide.

They also needed to be alone to discuss it. And they made no promises they would give an answer we would like. Nor were they saying they were out. They just needed time.

I was shocked. Veena and Rosa were Pranksters for life, or so I had thought. This was the first real rift we'd had. In, well, ever, honestly. Maybe they were thinking about the fact on our last major "quest" we had nearly died. So, okay, they might have a point as to why they ought to think it over. Maybe it was a sign of maturity. Maybe it was also a sign the future of the Pranksters was...cloudy. At best. Time would tell. Or maybe I was overthinking things. Was I overthinking things? I dunno. Yeah, I was probably overthinking things. Or was I? argh.

Whatever I was thinking and feeling inwardly, I did my best to just nod and express understanding. Tom eyed me sideways as I tinked it though. Jackie gripped my shoulder and squeezed. I didn't leak too much emotional information along with the expression of understanding, did I?

We agreed we would leave them to talk in the cottage while Tom, Jackie and I went out to see what we could find hiking around the farm. We'd be back in a few hours, we told them, and we'd talk then. They could tink us sooner if they wanted us to come back sooner. They nodded and little packets of appreciation were tinked at us.

For the first time ever, at least in this way, things were awkward between the Merry Pranksters.

It felt like something had happened.

Something profound.

And it made me sad.

Tom, Jackie and I gathered some supplies - stuff to drink, eat and the perfume bug spray, batteries and drones. Rosa made suggestions for the drones, what to take, or not. Veena sat quietly while we did so. We filed out the front door. I was last and looked back. Rosa and Veena were hugging fiercely. It looked like Veena had a tear running down her cheek.

My impulse was to run over and hug her. However, I knew I shouldn't. Whatever Veena was facing, it was shared between her and Rosa, not with the rest of the Merry Pranksters, not with...me.

It was a rift.

It was strange as I walked out and closed the door. The rift between Dad and I over Khiara seemed so much less today. It seemed to be healing. However, a new one seemed to be opening up in the Pranksters. One rift opened. Another closed. Rifts, mountains, faults and earthquakes. So goes the plate tectonics of relationships.

Tom, Jackie and I walked in silence, verbal and tinkal, until we made it to the berm for the farm. There, we stopped. We were quiet for a moment and then Jackie gave me a hug. A big one. Tom did, too. I hugged them back fiercely. Tom's hug didn't feel like the one's he'd given before. It felt...weird. Not bad. Just weird. It shook me a bit.

Earthquakes indeed.

I shook myself and stepped back up. The robat had come from the north. That's the direction were going. Packs, exoskeletons, drones, everything. We were headed to whatever was ahead. Forever, together, surrender never.

Those of Merry Pranksters that were left, that was.

Tom, Jackie and I marched forward, serious and determined. It was blue and grim, but there was an undercurrent still some excitement. It probably would have continued that way except for one thing. Tom was watching me out of concern and not watching were he was going.

That cost him.

Had he been more careful, had he been watching ahead like he ought - this is an alien planet after all! - he'd have easily dodged the twarper that flew straight at him. He caught it coming at him out of the corner of his eye and he turned his face just in time for the twarper to land smack on it.

He screamed and fell backwards.

The twarper was terrified and held on tight as though its life depended on not letting go of Tom's face.

That caused Tom to scream in a pitch that no boy over the age of ten ever ought to do.

It was hilarious. It was ridiculous.

Tom rolled around and flailed like he was being tortured. The twarper was harmless. Tom was just freaking out.

It was hilarious. It was ridiculous. Jackie and I fell down laughing.

The poor twarper was probably more terrified than Tom was. If Tom wasn't careful, um, yup...the twarper relieved itself. On his face.

Tom screamed again.

So gross.

So funny.

Jackie and I fell down laughing.

We were terrible friends.

Tom finally (!) got the twarper off his face and he threw it away.

It landed fine: they fall out of trees unharmed after all.

It gave him a look of 'how dare you, you disgusting Earthlife!' and hoppled away.

Tom began wiping away the foulness left behind making spitting sounds and grossed out sounds.

It added to the ridiculousness.

He stopped and lay there panting.

Jackie and I got up and walked over to him. We pulled him up and I pulled out some wipes. I smiled, tears of laughter still blurring my vision, when I began wiping his face clean. He gave me a sheepish smile. Jackie shook her head.

Blues abated, we turned and renewed our little quest. Merry restored to the Pranksters...