Bad-Dumb-Tish! part-5 2025-08-01 2245-2330

Bad-Dumb-Tish! part-5 2025-08-01 2130-2225  

I learnt early on in Life that there is a difference between laughing "because something is funny" and laughter "because someone has been humiliated". 

 If I think back to what I thought was funny when I was about three, then it would be cartoons I saw on television particularly Warner Brothers Looney Tunes, Hanna-Barbera Toons but also Disney shorts with Mickey Mouse, Donakd Fuck and Goofy. 

I liked Goofy because I liked slapstick. 

 By the time I was about six, I was nearky totally off Disney shorts. 

 What ..? A spelling mistake ... Really? I'll check later. 

 Bugs Bunny and the Riad Runner in Looney Tunes had a shtick whereby it was usually the tunnel-vision of their antagonists that led to the antagonists causing their own downfall.  Not so much "humiliation" as "come-uppance" which I still like. 

 Disney shorts just seemed like a series of not very good set-pieces (the visual equivalent of "one-liners") inside a simple three-act story structure; peaceful set-up, conflict, revenge. 

 I learnt about people's love of humiliation by being a black child in a white-society where the goal of that society is preservation of white-conceitedness.  Their ove of white mental fragility was greater than all other concerns, greater than Defence of Nation or cultural continuity. 

 I was constantly asked to find the insulting and humiliation of others as something to laugh about.  But, if you are asking me to laugh at a "paki" then I will assume you would also, if ever with that person, try to get them to laugh at "niggers". 

 The British Establishment is built on this type of othering at that schoolchild level of targeting. 

 What? Riad Runner? Really!? 

 I can kind of imagine that as a cartoon! 

 Two-Reelers and Animation Shorts use slapstick especially when a Silent Film because it is easy to interpret the visuals.  One paid actor-stunt-person hitting another paid actor-stunt-person in a film or watching Wile E Coyite get blown-up by his own machinations (ACME is a reliable company, their products do work) can be funny.  Doing that in-real-life reveals how damaged the perpetrator is and how dys-empathetic their friends and the bystanders are.  Especially, if they laugh. 

 What I learnt from being the target of attacks (from behind) is that I was more likely to be blamed as being an aggressor.  (Sarcasm Mode :- because that's how violence works.)  Perpetrators would be treated as victims and they would be asked if they were all right.  I don't recall any of those people ever asking if I was all right after a usually larger person snuck up and punched me in the back of the head. 

  ((I'm sticking to incidences where I did not punch the perpetrator after I was punched.  In a courtroom, the opposing counsel will ask "And, you retaliated?" and you should reply "Go fuck yourself you in-bred small limp dick cunt" or sonething of that nature.  The Law says Retaliation shows mental capacity and inclination towards violent ways of thinking.  You can say that you defended yourself from attack. Further bullshit will follow from opposing counsel.)) 

 Places I have been punched in the back-of-the-head by complete strangers and been blamed for it :- 

 School, the pub, the street, nightclub, Birmingham-Solihull Tax Office. 

 What is fascinating is the incredibly complex stories that perpetrators, their associates and bystanders would make-up to explain my violent behaviour of being hit in the back of my head by their new hero. 

I like using the concept of Joint Enterprise in stories; any grouping where individuals act criminally with common purpose.  I think that when people make excuses for an attack and do or try to join in with more violence even just encouraging it or telling stories to incite further violence then those people  should be charged as willing accomplices by joint enterprise. 

 Or. 

 Just shut the fuck up unless you are actually calming the situation. 

 

 The telling and building of attack fantasies should never happen; at the particular time when that starts there should be direct preventative ((See what I did there?)) education which explains the simple truth about targeting others as a form of juvenile peer bonding. 

 Can you imagine working in a multinational corporation or central/local civil service and having that as the basis of your social personality? 

You don't have to imagine that. 

Bad-Dumb-Tish! part-4 2025-07-30 2130-2330 Bosses

Due to unforessen circumstances, I have had to switch to a different app on my Lenovo pad because the ESFiles app is blanking what I've written when I turn it from landscape to portrait orientation when I hadn't even got beyond the first sentence. 

The first sentence :- 

So, having had to keep up with nonsensensical events that were pouring out of the British Establishment this week, I come to the fifth essay in this strand which I may switch around with the fourth essay should I remember whatever the Hell it was supposed to be about. 

Or, I could just do something new about repetition ... 

It is repetition that binds them; Repetition that gives them purpose; Repetition that defines them. 

And, it is their repetition that identifies and leads to recognition of their strategies which knowledge ultimately can be used to destroy them.  Because of YOU, mister and your son!  Because, of YOU! 

Take the messing around with ESFiles, fir indtance. 

On my old first Samsung "smartphone", when I was nearing the completion of the first (and only) draft of "No Man's Land"; the phone began to boot-loop and the text files began to lose text and in some cases reverted to previous versions.   I had with me at that time another device (Which one was it?! I think it was the Palm Tungsten?) which I transfered data from it by "physically" copying and pasting text into SMS and email messages.   I did the same with the Samsung till all the created text was either in my Yahoo account or my Hotmail.  I hardly used Gioogle. 

I then copied the No Man's Land chapters into Word (from text files which could be saved in rich text or word format after deciding on Unicode format) and also into my Wordpress.  This was mid-2015. 

The erasure of my next smartphone after accidentally clicking on a bogus "Android System Update" instead of first copying its latest memory onto a mem-card ocurred in September 2022 shortly before starting a job at Mitie (the bogus company).  It took a few short stories that I had not made back-ups of; about five micro-stories of a terrible ex-president coming back into power in 2025.  They are re-writable little sketches but I remember making myself laugh out loud while drafting them. 

The bogus "Android System Update" messages continued from around 2018 right upto this year in May when I finally got a reply from the bogus Intelligence oversight and complaints panel the Investigatory Powers Tribunal (who all seem pro-Genocide Adjacent) but noticed that they had given themsekves an infinite amount of time to respond to a complaint in which I delineated :-

(Article 8 Respect for your Private and Family LifePart ll U.K.)

(The First Protocol Article 1 U.K.Protection of property)

(Article 6 U.K.Right to a fair trial.1 U.K.In the determination of his civil rights and obligations or of any criminal charge against him,everyone is entitled to a fair and public hearing within a reasonable time by an independent and impartial tribunal established by law.)

(Deprivation of Liberty.)

(General and Specific arbitrary interference in Life and ongoing harassment.) 

as legal grounds for my complaint.  The complaint that they replied to, the T2 form, does not cover these issues which I am sure they thought I did not notice. 

So, I have to add their abuse of Time to their neverending constant lying. 

However, the Online Safety Act and efforts to create Digital Identity are also paying off handsomely.  There have been confirmations of projects and procedures which I suspected but this week I got to hear their names and read about what has been happening with these functionally blacklisting gameifications of once simple transparent processes.  One is the "Right to Rent" verification process which has been folded into the digital governance department.  An actual blacklist of people who need accommodation but are not judged suitable by ("friendly enough to") the British Establishment. 

There is repetition of a simple process; if you're not in the in-group then they will treat you as if you are a terrorist and a criminal. 

This from "British Intelligence". 

Lance de Boyle

LANCE DE BOYLE - CLICK HERE TO GO TO WORDPRESS PAGE

A science-fiction mash-up of The Green Lantern Corps, The Legion of Superheroes, Star Trek and a few other things. 

Q'ono'S - Chapter 02 - Section 1

02 - Crush Depths & Crash Reports - 1.1

Section 1 of 4 - The Farm

Prologue

Life had always been very tough on Q'ono's, and none had it so bad as did the children.

Millennia of grief had grown into an unspoken custom of keeping distance between parent and progeny, less either be thrown into the emotional chasm felt all too often following catastrophe.
          Though post-natal deaths were now a thing almost unheard (due to progress in medical practice), ten thousand years of expected and unexpected disasters had created in the Q'ono'ssian heart a fear of showing affection to the young.

The distance was in fact cowardice.

Part 1

"This is where Xian'na and I will live," Ne’moh said, proudly displaying the intricate straw model of his fantasy dacha.

Ne’moh handed the model to Dur'ee, who admired the model's simplicity and design.
He placed the model on the carpet of bent stems of quorn.

"Oh, look, I'm Praxis," Dur'ee said, and stamped on the model.

For the longest time, Ne’moh did nothing; his dreams were crushed.
"You kerk," shouted Ne’moh, "I'm going to kick your Ku’Layn butt."

"You and whose Klingon mother?" Dur'ee challenged him.

Ne’moh swiped at Dur'ee's head with the business end of a quorn sheaf; the sheaf landed perfectly on the side of Dur'ee's head knocking him off balance and into an area of surviving quorn at the edge of the harvested field. Ne’moh set into him and there followed much kicking, punching and shouting from both of them.

Sensing an advantage, Ne’moh went to swing his fist at Dur'ee's chin ... and missed completely as Dur'ee moved ever so slightly to the side; Ne’moh disappeared into the stalks.
          Dur'ee burst out laughing and went to check if Ne’moh was okay. But then, there was a flash in the sky.
Ne’moh screamed, “##expletive deleted##,” loudly.

Dur'ee pulled his friend up, funking as he did so, as more flashes seemed to be all about him.

"You see it, too, Dur'ee? What's going on?" Ne’moh asked with a tremulous voice.
          "I don't know ... Let's get out of here."

They ran towards the far end of the field - near to the seaward cliff, but the flashes still followed them. Ne’moh closed his eyes, but the flashes did not stop.

Like thunder after lightning, there was a huge rolling crack above them; they felt the sound in their molars and bones, even as it reverberated in their chests.
          They looked up.

Part 2

At his office in the compound of the Airship Aviation Authority for and in the Prefecture and Province of Kus’Hima; Kryten greeted his guest, Um’Kai of the Clan K’Stow.
          The compound neighboured and was part of the Airship Hub that was named after one of the Klinzhai Clan's greatest patriarchs: Kah’Less.
          Great, that is, if you believed the ranting stories of the Klinzhai.
          Um’Kai was not of a mind to agree with the Klinzhai, even though there were stories of Kah’Less's lineage that connected him with the K’Stow. Yet, there were two things that Klingons and K’Stow both agreed on: the land belonged to the Klingons; the K’Stow belonged to the sea.

"Morning, cousin," Um’Kai returned the greeting.
          "Let's talk business, Um’Kai."
          "I have read the report, Kryten. There does not seem to be anything of import."
Clicking his tongue disapprovingly, Kryten set a goblet of mung'tai on the table for Um’Kai. He then placed a dossier on the table.
          "The farmers in Kuracao are hardly a reliable source. These are the actual statements of the witnesses, not the report. Two boys, 10 and 12 years of age; the younger one is K’Stow, the older is Ku’Layn. Both have some Klingon heritage. But, the younger is also Kat'Anna."
          "A scribbler?!"

Kryten opened the dossier at a marked page.
          "You know what these look like?"
          Um’Kai gazed at the patterns. "Yes," he said.
          Kryten then showed him another page. "These are what the Ku’Layn saw."
          "Not as clear as the Kat'Anna's drawings, but close enough."
          "It was just chance that I saw these; Cousin Ja'Layn was visiting, he was looking around at my paperwork and asked me why I had drawings of particle track diagrams."

Um’Kai flicked through the papers. "It doesn't make sense, though. I understand that they said that they saw flashes, and they disagreed on certain things. But, there's no reason for them to see actual swirls, and other kerk. Those occur at the koretic level. And, there would definitely not be any marcation; such as arrows."

"Synaesense? A Kat'Anna boy and a Ku’Layn boy."
          Um’Kai raised a brow dismissively.
          "Of course, someone so deep in the breeding of the K’Stow ..." Kryten began.
          Um’Kai breathed in, tightening his torso muscles. "Don't you dare!"
          Kryten held up his hands. "I was merely going to say that as a K’Stow you are less likely to experience synaesthesia."
          Um’Kai relaxed.
          "And, that you are totally in-bred!" Kryten laughed at him.
          "Perhaps, you'd like to go for a swim with me in Y'mani Cenote?"
          Kryten pretended to think about it. "I have plans that day."
          "I didn't say what day."
          "Whatever day you have in mind, I have plans. But, that IS what I had in mind. If you could go for a swim off the coast of Kuracao, where the witnesses said they saw what they saw."
          Um’Kai was quiet. "The Lial Abyss," he said.

Kryten waited for Um’Kai's next question.
          "Why," Um’Kai began, "don't you contact the Coast Guard?"
          "High Council will not approve an exploration and as for the Klingon Council ... Well ... What you said before about me going for a swim ... We're not welcome there. Especially not welcome after that attempt to drill for hydrocarbons there."
          "No one is welcome there. Not even K’Stow," Um’Kai reminded him.

Kryten breathed in deep as he stood, and unleashed his voice as if from his gut.



                    "I have heard songs sung of Zhark of the K’Stow.
                              And, this is my song:

                    Of his life and loves, adventures on storm tossed seas,
                              and of his dives to the greatest depths
                              and of the Amity he found in the Lial Abyss.

                    His fame'ed name bestow'd on all who became high chief.
                              But, none surpass’d what he could achieve.

                    They say today the Tree of that Clan cannot grow
                              as it did in the time of Zhark K’Stow."

Um’Kai had not heard Kryten sing in almost fifteen years, it took him by surprise:
          The bass tones pleasing to his K’Stow ears. He decided not to tell him how well he sang.
          "You must be desperate," Um’Kai said.
          Kryten met his eyes with a fierce challenge. "Do it for her."
          Um’Kai felt himself tense as if jabbed in the side, he relaxed his body.
          "Well," he grunted, "we should see those kids before I get in too deep."

Part 3

Kryten felt an unwelcome slide and squish in his step; he looked down, and then cursed.
          Um’Kai laughed. "Looks like you trod in some Orox kerk, my cousin."
          Kryten growled mainly to himself, then said, "Thank you for pointing that out."

The quorn field had been given a controlled burn and then the stubs had been ploughed under, giving the appearance of fresh rich brown furrows. The orox-pat had been hardly noticeable in its shade, and Kryten's attention had been intensely focussed elsewhere; his focus was now even more intensely on his krokosile shoes.
          At least he remembered not to try and lift his foot up to have a better look while standing on this un-even ground. He turned his attention back to the new combined report.

"Agricultural Ministry: The field had been harvested before the event; the remaining discard was fed to the livestock or used in the generator furnace. The Ministry has tracked the milk & meat from the farm, and tested the soil: No sign of unusual isotopes. The Kling Koretic Authority is having the Koretic Institute electroscope the random sample of sheaves taken from this field later that day; their report is tardy."

He sipped some water from his backtrian, and then continued.
          "No reports of launchings from any of the Provinces. No major conflicts under way. Nobody's even throwing rocks. Radioscopes report no flashes. Joint Aviation Authority - that's my lot - have no report of unusual activity at any altitude: Satellites detected no tracks - above or below. No reports of debris. No physhyng in this sector – it’s prohibited - so no 'unexpected materia' reports."

Um’Kai summed up his thoughts about what was missing from the report, "Possibility of faulty monitoring devices, and as for the radiation ... The anomaly could have been short lived or energetic, hence the sample submission to the Koretic Institute."

"This time, you don't have to be hard on the Institute: the Alpha Batch had already gone through the routine testing process; there was not much left of the Beta Batch to run a new set of tests on."

"Sykes," said Um’Kai.
          "What!? How dare you ..!"
          "No. It's Inspector Sykes, Kuracao Constabulary; he is here."
          "Oh, I see. I thought you were calling me a sykes-kopf ...

"Oh, I see. I thought you were calling me a kerk-head," Kryten apologised.
          "You are a kerk-head, Kryten."
          "Oh, yes, you're right; Yo zevut il kapitano di kerk... Here he comes."

Inspector Sykes trudged across the field with the balance that would be expected of a farm labourer; his boots were appropriate for the conditions underfoot. His uniform was in contrast to Kryten's all-purpose Klingon battle-dress; on Sykes’ cloth boiler-suit, there was a side-arm, a badge with the Kuracao prefectural coat-of-arms and his rank insignia.

"Good day, Klingons." His choice to use the word 'Klingon' was an insult chosen to be aimed at Um’Kai, but Kryten felt the sting equally. "What brings you here?"
          He already knew what brought them there; he was marking territory.
          "We're investigating the sighting from a month ago."
          "Ah, the two little Klingons. Will you be encouraging them to waste their time on such delusions? This is the middle of harvest season: They have work."
          "Yes, we all need to do our part," Um’Kai said to himself.

Kryten pulled rank. "I trust you're here to aid us in our enquiries, Inspector?"
          Sykes felt his mind overload; anything other than deference to this request would only lead to loss of honour. He had to save face, he thought fast.
          "I was just about to ask how I may be of assistance, Investigative Captain."
          Um’Kai raised a brow. Even the Ku’Layn in Kryten was impressed by Sykes' side-step.
          "Yes, there is something," Kryten said. "I'll contact you after the interviews."
          Sykes had done well but could not control a growl. "Very well," he said.

The cousins watched Sykes’s long trudge back to his transport; when he was well out of earshot, they turned to each other and exchanged an expression that said all that they had to say.
          Um’Kai looked around at the fields, the stone walls, the wild brakht hedges and the orox penned-off in a neighbouring field. "Sure is pretty."
          "It sure is," Kryten agreed. "Time to meet those little Klingons."

Part 4

Kryten had always been impressed by Um’Kai's way with children; Um’Kai's obvious respect for the young probably had influenced his choice of path. Specifically, Um’Kai was a diving instructor among the K’Stow, but generally he was an advisor to various Council chambers and a roving ambassador for the K’Stow. As an ambassador, Um’Kai had met Dr Kul’inar, the Chief Medical officer for the Barber Clan's Department of Diagnostic Education.
          And, then something had ruined Um’Kai's life: He met Kul’inar's daughter.

Dr Kul’inar closed his case, having finished the last of his examinations of the boys.
          The room he was using was the examining room for domestic pets at the kybytz-farm; targs and such. It was clean but uninviting, cooled against Q'ono'S' prevalent ever present ambient heat to reduce the growth of bacteria. On the exam-table, the boys shivered.

A knock at the door was followed by the entrance of Kryten and Um’Kai. Dr Kul'inar greeted them in the traditional way, and then they all sat with the boys.
          The boys tried hard to hide their trembling which was becoming a major task as they caught sight of Um’Kai. Um’Kai stretched an arm out to Dur'ee who grasped Um’Kai's upper-arm, and Um’Kai grasped Dur'ee’s upper-arm. Um’Kai did not do the same for Ne’moh; Ne’moh felt the snub deeply, quietly acknowledging his own lowly position by dint of age.

"It is an honour to meet you, sir," Ne’moh said.
          "I'm sure it is an honour for you," Um’Kai said harshly. "Now, what is all this nonsense I have heard of spaceships? I am very busy and do not appreciate being dragged away from my important work to be afflicted by the delusions of an unformed mind."
          Ne’moh felt stunned and began to stutter. "I ... I ..."
          Dur'ee (figuratively) leapt to Ne’moh's defence. "We were in the field by the Lial Abyss, when the ... thing appeared."

"I see. The Kat'Anna is unsure of his story," Um’Kai gave vent to derision. "Tell me more, young Ku’Layn."
          "At first we kept seeing flashing things. We thought it was in the sky. We talked about it after. But, at the time, when we closed our eyes, the flashes were still there. It was like it was INSIDE our eyes," Dur'ee found it hard to control his voice, but it was not just puberty that was causing his voice to crack.
          "Talked afterwards, did you? Kat'Anna's like their stories, don't they?"
          Dur'ee was incensed. "It is not a story. We saw it."

Um’Kai was not looking at Dur'ee, but he did have a look of disgust on his face. "Did I give you permission to speak, Ku’Layn?"
          Dur'ee felt the knock from equal to subordinate deeply. He lost his words.
“Ah, but I must not speak so harshly of your pet physh, Ku’Layn. I forget: Only you may insult your ... friend. I can imagine the tight little bond you two have. Small and easy to punch.”
          Dur'ee’s face flushed crimson with shame and embarrassment.

Um’Kai turned to Kryten and Dr Kul’inar. "It is as I thought. They are wasting our time. Just two little lost boys who miss their mothers; Crying for attention. I have seen this many times. Their innate dishonour comes to the fore, as does the weakness of their clans."

Outraged, Ne’moh overcame his stutter.
          "You can't say that. How dare you. How dare you. You have insulted me, my friend, and our clans. I will have my day of satisfaction."
          Um’Kai put a hand to his mouth, stifling his mocking laughter. He stood.
          "Come, let's away from here."
          Ne’moh's stutter now became a thing of the past, as he began to curse ...

Impressed, but not showing it, Um’Kai put an expression on his face that Ne’moh could see clearly. The slight hiss of the positive pressure air pumps - that prevented air from outside the room flowing inside the room, seemed to become deafening in the pause.

Um’Kai then said, "What a badly educated little boy!"

Which was when Dur'ee snapped and walloped Um’Kai over the ridges with a sample pan.

Q'ono'S - Chapter 02 - Section 2

02 - Crush Depths & Crash Reports - 2.1

Section 2 of 4 - The Party

Part 5

After about five minutes of pressing the compress to the back of Um’Kai's head; Dr Kul'inar was satisfied that there was no bleeding, an earlier sonic-scan had shown no subdural haematoma.

                "That was quite impressive," Kul'inar commented.

                "Yes, I didn't expect that he could knock me out," Um’Kai agreed.

                "It is a good thing that K’Stow have such robust skulls. It was the blunt force trauma of your brain sloshing about and coming to an abrupt stop at the front of the skull that caused the loss of consciousness. No signs of long lasting concussion effects. No blurred vision or loss of focus or acuity. No signs of bleeding in the eye, or evidence of retinal damage."

                Um’Kai looked at the fingers of his left hand and tested their movement. He sighed. "Enough about me, Doct ... Professor Kul'inar. What of the children?"

                Kul'inar discarded the compress in the bio-basura, and then picked up his notepad.

                "They're in pretty good health. I have their records from the kybytz for comparison of their condition. Nothing unusual for their ages. Although, you could argue that Ne'moh has not started puberty yet, so he may have a lesser chance of K’Stow genotype expression ..."

                "Doctor ... Please."

                "Yes, sorry. I have taken all the usual samples for further analysis. What I can tell from looking at surveillance pictures of them - from around the time of the incident; is that there appears to have been a dermal response to short wave electromagnetic rays: They returned with a tan."

                "But, all the children are outside most of the day working in the fields at this time of year."

                "I considered that. From surveillance stills, I compared them leaving from and returning to the kybytz: and I also compared the other children; Ne'moh and Dur’ee were significantly more tanned. Your follow-up question, I anticipate. They were not the latest returning back to the kybytz. But, they were still the most tanned."

                "I concur with your analysis. Good conjectures, by the way."

                "Thank you," Dr Kul'inar was flattered by the younger man's praise; Um’Kai was held in high esteem by many, including his enemies.

                Um’Kai looked through the doctor's notes. "Still no evidence of particle exposure."

                "Not that we can say without the Koretic Institute's data analysis. This is considered low priority: Just another piece of unaccounted for proto-planetary debris falling to Q'ono'S. The children do not appear to have suffered damage to their vision beyond that which is easily accounted for by other causes: the UV sterilising lamps in this room, for instance."

                Um’Kai was present yet far away. Dr Kul'inar noticed this.

                "You're going to dive anyway?" Kul'inar asked.

                "Yes. I will take their word for it. There is too much that they said that is anomalous and yet consistent. And, the most important thing is that they do not want to be going through this; the incident had such an effect on them that they want to know what really happened to them ... We do not need two children jumping off a cliff just because no one will listen to them."

                Kul'inar put a hand to Um’Kai's shoulder. "And, that willingness to risk yourself for others is what makes you great," he honoured his friend.

                Overwhelmed, Um’Kai bowed his head in deference to his mentor.

Part 6

The sound of the strings of a k'tr being plucked drifted from the roundhouse, along with the hubbub of voices young and old, and the pleasant carbonised aroma of roasting meat and vegetables over a peat fire. The sea air was cooling, the air driven by the sea, the air driving the sea, coming in from the sea. The brine and carbonic vapour (churned up by wave breaking motion) hit the Lial cliffs. And, the Q'ono'S moon was full with its feeble gravity barely tugging at the Great Ocean around the Great Qontinent; the mutual attraction of Q'ono'S to her sister favouring the greater body: Disastrously so; In another five hundred million years, Q'ono'S would pull her baby sibling to her in a mutually assured final duocidal embrace.

                But, that did not matter, not now, not with Praxis now approaching.

As his voice had not yet decided what it wanted to sound like, Dur'ee opted to provide the back-beat for Kryten's melody on a tambor. Kryten was picking and choosing musical episodes from many great heroic ballads, while he worked on a new opus, occasionally rapping tuning forks on the k’tr.

                The kybytz was named Zharkybytz; eighty student-workers taken from many of the Qontinent's provinces. Strange to think that the Qontinent was many smaller pieces, momentarily slammed together for a brief time - two hundred million years; and about another one hundred million years would pass before they visibly drifted apart again.

                The Great Qontinent: Um’Kai didn't think it was that great. His people lived on the seas, rivers and lakes; on all areas near water; they traded and lived on the canal networks. Each K’Stow's first "boat" was a reed basket. These days, some of them had much bigger boats, but usually named after that first, nurturing vessel.

Blood-wine and rom-ale flowed, the younger children were allowed watered down drinks, though now - holding to the prevailing consensus that Praxis was to remove Q'ono'S from the Universe - parents and guardians were not so strict about adding greater proportions of water to the wine.

                Um’Kai sat with his pool-brother, Zee'zoo, both of them drinking mung'tai and discussing the preparations for the dive at noon the next day.

                Ne'moh drew pictures of the scene, finding the venture its own reward.

"Can I help?" Dur'ee asked Kryten.

                Kryten looked up from the manuscript. "If you think you can," he challenged.

                "Ne'moh taught me a few things about notation scripts: Movement, Music."

                "Of course," Kryten said, opting not to withdraw the challenge.

                Dur'ee looked at the manuscript, but barely understood it. There were lines for a time flow, but the actual note marcations were unknown to him. He could tell there was a structure, but was unsure what they actually meant.

                "This is your own notation system," Dur'ee said out aloud.

                "Yes."

                "It looks good, but I don't understand it. Notes are missing."

                "Transcription errors," Kryten commented. “Too much information spoils a song.”

                                "I've reduced the information down to four basic components:

                                                The four lines to indicate time,

                                                the four (let's call them) notes,

                                                the four sizes for the notes - indicating quiet to loud,

                                                and the markers - begin, pause, sustain, stop."

                Dur'ee looked again. "I see it now. It is like movement and music notation combined."

                "There is a basic truth in the use of all information systems: There is a beginning, a middle and an end. Like with stories and music. A song can be given a shape that rises, reaches a peak then collapses. It can have more than one peak. Generally, in a song we like there to be two or three peaks. Most often, the middle of the song we call the middle-eight."

                "The bridge," Dur'ee offered.

                "Yes, the bridge. Like Um’Kai, the name his family have for him is bridge, or thereabouts."

                Kryten sipped his blood-wine and Dur'ee copied him.

                "But, how do we know how to start a piece?" Kryten asked Dur'ee.

                "The notation. Or, because it's the first bit of song?"

                "Good, but there is an even better way."

                Dur'ee did not know what that way was, or at least could not conceive the answer.

                "A conductor," a sweet voice whispered in Dur'ee's ear, lighting up his eyes.

                "Greetings, dottorsdottir Annette Barber Kul'inari."

                Annette held out her hand to Dur'ee who took it, and touched it to his brow.

                "Hello, Investigator Kryten. Who is your charming friend?"

                "You may speak," Kryten advised him.

                "My lady, I am Dur'ee von Ku'Layn. I am honoured to meet you."

                "Thank you. Pray, continue."

                Even though he had seen Annette approaching, Kryten's mind had gone blank.

                "A conductor?" Dur'ee offered.

                "Yes, a conductor," Kryten composed himself. "The information is there until it is acted upon; it takes an external force, a deliberate agent to make something happen. And, similarly, if the system is capable of running by itself, what - besides the conductor - can make it come to a stop?"

                "It runs out of energy or material, or ..." Dur'ee could feel a moment of enhanced clarity just beyond his grasp, and then he looked at Annette, and something else entirely arose in him - almost like his survival demanded he be impressive intellectually. "Or, something goes wrong inside that system. Damage: it gets damaged or it becomes damaged."

                "Sehr gut. There is a third source of damage; it could have been created damaged."

                Annette decided to make another contribution. "Or, it could just be different and what causes it to go wrong is that it is out of its natural environment or normal working environment. Like a physh out of water."

                "Excellent. The both of you."

                "Do you know where I can find, the ambassador?" Annette asked Dur'ee.

                Dur'ee knew not to answer that question, it was not his place.

                "He's facing seaward with Zee'zoo. Dur'ee can show you where."

                "Yes, sir," Dur'ee snapped to attention. "If you will follow me, ma'am."

                They departed, and Kryten continued to work on his opus.

Part 7

Zee'zoo made an excuse and departed with Dur'ee, leaving Annette with Um’Kai.

                The conversation was to be a private and personal matter; that is it would be private if they could resist shouting at each other for longer than three minutes.

                Zee'zoo and Dur'ee sat with Ne'moh who was making a portrait of Dr Kul'inar who had agreed to a sitting as a life-model.

                "May I ask, sir? I may be young, yet I am taken by your daughter," Dur'ee said.

                "Yes. It's instant, isn't it?" Dr Kul'inar commented. "It is the curse of Q'ono'ssian men. It affects even the K’Stow. And, even among my fellow Kuracao we cannot resist our women. It's why the female Ku-Layn posterior lights up our eyes, even though we hate the Ku'Layn."

                They looked over at Annette and Um’Kai, they fell silent.

                Ne'moh looked up from the paper to see why they had gone quiet; he followed their line of sight to the scene that was unfolding. He gasped.

                "She's ripping his hair out!" Ne'moh exclaimed.

                "Be still, young Kat'Anna," Zee’zoo placed a hand on Ne'moh's shoulder. "It's just preparation for the dive. Though, I can't say that Annette is not enjoying doing that."

                "That is so very true," Kul'inar agreed.

                "She's using torrid kalx to help remove his hair and also to treat his scalp. One day, that may be happening to you, young Ne'moh ni Kat'Anna-ze K’Stow."

                Ne'moh gulped, and then smiled thinking about how it would impress his K’Stow cousins if he could do a deep dive. Something to think about.

                "Are they betrothed?" Dur'ee said, surprised to find himself sound unexpectedly gruff.

                Dr Kul'inar noted Dur'ee's changing voice; perhaps another test was due?

                "No. He has known her since she was twelve. Honour prevented him from approaching her with anything but the most chivalrous intentions; yet, as we know, that does not stop her from making demands of him. She made him swear never to see another till she was of age.

                "And, he has abided by that oath. Still abides. Despite everything."

                "Everything?" asked Dur'ee, gaining control again.

                Kul'inar turned to Zee’zoo. Ne'moh shouted at Kul'inar to stop moving.

                Zee’zoo felt like acknowledging Kul'inar's gaze with a combination of sarcasm and sympathy. And, then he thought better of it. "There is nothing preventing Annette from courting others. The oath was only binding on Um’Kai's conduct; not on hers."

                Codes of honour prevented Kul'inar from acknowledging that statement, and definitely prevented Kul'inar from making that statement. Only Zee’zoo had the right to say such a thing, without it initiating a feud. Kul'inar agreed with the statement.

                The situation brought him shame.

                "Yet, they obviously feel deeply for each other," Ne'moh stated.

                And, to that statement they could all agree.

Part 8

His head gleaming in the torch-light, Um’Kai sang for the kybytzim and gathered.

                There is a legend of our world,

                                of bitter, cruel and all-loving Q'ono'S.

                A legend of how she came to be,

                                Of the smash of Qontinents and creations of seas.

                From the Mytoptic Formations at the Great Qontinent's eye,

                                to the swirling, surrounding Great Ocean and Sky.

                They say that there were many Peoples before us,

                                that each added to the Foundation of First City,

                                deep roots of rock brick, each stamped with a message:

                                                "Don't replace me; Re-Place me;

                                                Put me Back; And yours atop."

                They say that there was an accord with an Ancient Sea-Race,

                                to protect us, respect us, to remain 'cross Q'ono'S face.

                They say this world is their world,

                                that that they welcomed us here,

                                and together made a pact to keep intact.

                                                "Protect our beloved Q’ono’S; of us show no fear,

                                                and we shall protect you, and hold you all dear."

The crowd applauded and hooted, and there were many cries of "Zhark Beat, bu-ha-ha."

                Um’Kai took his place with his cousin, Kryten, and pool-brother, Zee’zoo.

                "There's something I need to tell you, Kryten," Um’Kai said in a low voice.

                "What is it?" Kryten asked.

                Um’Kai looked to Zee’zoo, Zee’zoo's eyes showed agreement.

                "It's about Zhark."

                "Your great grand-father."

                Um’Kai was quiet, the light from the fire playing across his face.

                "Zhark was not my grand-father."

                "You are the scion of another line?"

                "No. Zhark was not my grand-father. He is my father."

                "It is on record, Ku'Layn Record, that Zhark died a hundred years ago."

                "Think: Why do you trust me so much, Kryten?"

                "Because, you can ..." Kryten's eyes widened. "You can keep a secret!"

                "All K’Stow can keep the secrets of others. That's why we are trusted. We don't keep our secrets from each other; it could be the difference between life and death on a dive. Whatever happened to him down there granted him unnatural long life."

                Kryten stared at the fire, and then opened a new bottle of ale, even though he had yet to finish the other one.

                "When he came back, Zhark had a message for us, all of Q’ono’s; it was not to be delivered until the time was right. He said I would know when. I think it's now, and I trust you enough to keep this a secret or to do with it what you think is necessary."

                "What is the message?"

                "Word for word: 'The deal is off.' "

Q'ono'S - Chapter 02 - Section 3

02 - Crush Depths & Crash Reports - 3.1

Section 3 of 4 - The Dive Party

Part 9

Annette returned from the kybytz office and then dragged Um'Kai away from the party.

"There's a problem," she stated calmly. "Your equipment has been impounded."
          "Impounded?" Um'Kai looked at her as if she was surely mistaken. "How? By whom?"
          "Inspector Sykes," Annette said succinctly.

Um'Kai filled his great K'Stow lungs with a long in-take of air; his eyes flicked about, even briefly looking up to the sky. He let out a slow, deep purr.
          "Sykes' brother-in-law," Um'Kai hissed, "is Chief of Duanos at the Kus'Hima Kah'Less Air-Hub. It is good that he can do his job so well."
          He looked over at the group.
          "That Kul'Ack scion of a targeta," Um'Kai cursed.

"I made other arrangements just in case there was a problem," Annette informed him.
          "Good. That means ..."
          All of a sudden, Um'Kai angrily fixed Annette in his eyes. Annette backed away from him. Um'Kai relaxed, not meaning to be aggressive, just momentarily overwhelmed.
          "He's near; he's got his own private gyro that can lift fifty tunnes. I could not have found anyone else with that facility so quickly. At least, there was no one else that I could trust to do this quietly. And, he is sympathetic to your cause."

But, he's not me, Um'Kai thought to himself.

"The Kling authorities will be here definitely by mid-morning; so noon for a dive is not going to be possible. If we work all night, we can be ready by day-break."
          Um'Kai was always impressed by Annette's ability to plan. When he had met Kul'inar's wife the shock of attraction was ... shocking to him, but then on meeting their daughter - the young Annette, he had been devastated by her presence. Being with her was like an endless torture, a source of pain that was the greatest feeling that he had ever felt.
          He was caught like a physh, hauled out of the sea, gasping for the sea.

          "I'll make ..." Um'Kai began to speak, but was silenced by a touch of her hand.
          "I'll make the arrangements; you sleep and save your strength for the dive."
          His eyes showed agreement and deference; Um'Kai knew that he could not hide from Annette what he felt for her; feelings that he could never reveal without causing dishonour.
          "We dive at dawn," she said.


Part 10

The scent of iced ming-tao was in the air, rousing Um'Kai from his sleep.
          Following a fragrance of hot water mist and essence’d tallow, Um'Kai showered then flicked off the warm water to receive a reviving cold blast on his skin.
          Returning to the cot, he yawned and sipped at the ming-tao, looking out at the night time darkness. His hearing resolved the sounds of voices; orders being shouted and children cursing at getting up even earlier than normal, though they were also saying how much they enjoyed the change in regimen. Suddenly, a beating sound shocked the air.
          Um'Kai wrapped a gown around himself and went outside.

On the two-century old, decommissioned but well-maintained observation platform, Annette was checking papers while talking into a hand-held multi-band radio.
          Lights from the observation platform shone onto the stone beach below; while another area away from the kybytz platform had been cleared, lit-up and marked with white & red flares.
          The beating noise came over head and Annette became more animated, she was making lots of movements with her arms and hands, though whoever she was talking to would not have been able to see her. The gyro - with its load swinging beneath, swung over the beach and a little way out to the sea.
          Annette became more controlled; as the gyro descended; the load lowering as it did so.

Then, the load dropped, as the pilot let the cable-lock loose.
          There was a loud splash.
          Everybody stopped what they were doing and waited, looking out to sea.
          The PT boat was intact, but that was not what they were concerned about.
          Watching Annette watching the sea, Um'Kai knew why Annette was watching the sea.
          Nothing happened out at sea.
          Annette made a motion with one hand, palm down gently on a table as she spoke into the radiophone; the gyro swung back over the land, and touched down at the clearing.
          Activity started up again.
          Um'Kai went back inside and got himself ready.

The beach facilities were in disrepair following their abandonment one-hundred and fifty years ago. The spiral stairs and definitely the funicular were rusted beyond even an attempt at being used, and the natural pathway was too much of a risk; so the party abseiled down the cliff.
          As he led the way, Um'Kai heard a clicking. He shone his torch towards the sound: He saw an ecky; an armoured creature about the size of his fist with a red shell, one of its pincers was about three times larger than the other; riding atop its carapace was a passenger, a small black shelled mollusc that provided a grooming service.
          A showman ecky.
          It bid them on.
          Six inflatable rafts with six crew apiece rowed out to the boat, Um'Kai was grateful for the exercise helping to get his system going.
          As he rowed, he looked at the cliff face that was just visible by the first dawn rays: Hundreds of millions of years in the making, formed by the remains of thousands (if not millions) of generations of billions (if not trillions) of kalkopods.
          The cliff was a measure of time.

The party clambered aboard the boat using the rope-rung-ladders that had been put in place before the air-lift. Someone was already on board: Ka'men St'eiff of the Krokosile K'Stow.
          "What are you doing here, you crazy krok? And, how?" Kryten asked.
          "Got a surprise for you, cousin," Ka'men said indulgently.
          The two went to the bridge. Kryten roared with laughter and embraced the figure.
          "Cousin-Brother Ja'Layn von Ku'Layn of the Koretic Institute of the Klinzhai!"
          "Greetings, Cousin-Brother. I got word about a mobilisation by the Kling Council to the place that you told me that you were going. I contacted Annette. And, she ... gave me my marching orders. Of course, you have not heard that from me."
          "Heard what?" Kryten frowned at him.
          Ja'Layn smiled. "I brought some equipment."
          "So, how did you ..?"
          "Some inflatable rafts and a small cabin: Adapt and Overcome. Ka'men and I did some prep on the way over; now with your crew working we should be ready for your cousin's drop in an hour: Which is when we can expect the first of my fellow Klinzhai to arrive."

The prep time was nearly up and all the equipment was as ready as it was going to be; Annette arrived on board with her father and Sim'nee Gor'kon, her fiancé.
          Um'Kai felt sorry for Sim'nee as Annette nagged him about dropping the boat too early: They had been unable to use radar in case it attracted attention.

"My cousin has brought some ... cool stuff," Kryten said.
          Ja'Layn strapped the pieces to Um'Kai. "Rad-clickers, depth gauge, tracker. The others you should only use in emergency, but keep the rad-clickers on at all times, they will warn you if you're getting close to a hazardous radiation source, even if it is just some left over ancient ordnance. Chances are this could just be a piece of space-junk, or at best an element rich chondrite that has been exposed to billions of years of cosmic radiation."
          "Of course, if you do find any interesting chondrites ..." Kryten trailed off.
          Um'Kai clicked his tongue at Kryten disapprovingly.
          "Never mind," Kryten said, as if dismissing his own comment.

Dur'ee was helping Ne'moh into a diving-suit.
          "You are the two eye-witnesses?" Ja'Layn approached the boys.
          "Yes, sir," they said.
          "Tell me where it went?" Ja'Layn asked them.
          "Between those two swells, in the deep water on the horizon," Dur'ee said as he pointed.
          "So, it flew across the field; big bang; you look up; and then it flies out to sea."

"Excuse me, sir," Ne'moh interjected. "We never said that it flew across the field when we saw it. We said that AFTER it had appeared, we THEN saw it fly across the field. We saw it appear."

"The report says that you saw it above you. It says that you saw it appear above you in the sky as you were running," Ja'Layn insisted.

"I believe that is probably a transcription error, sir. I did not write the report. The correct notation would be a circle with a point at its centre; the character has an alternate meaning of a koretic proton, but (in the context of the report that we gave) it means 'out of nowhere'. The full sentence should have read 'it appeared out of nowhere above us'." Ne'moh's voice took on a thoughtful manner, though he still sounded as a child.

Um'Kai said to himself, "Appeared?"
          He lifted his eyes up as if looking into his own skull. "Then, if it LITERALLY appeared: it would not have needed to have left a track; as a meteor does as it burns-up on atmospheric entry. We've been trying to come up with answers that fit with how we already think about unidentified objects. We threw out the official reports but didn't pay attention to what YOU were actually SAYING to us.”

          "It's something only a Kat'Anna would have picked up, sir," Ja'Layn commented.
          "No, only a truly gifted Kat'Anna could be as precise as Ne’moh."
          Ne'moh felt himself giggle inwardly, as Um'Kai's flattery bubbled up inside him, but he resisted showing emotion, instead maintaining his dutiful Kat'Anna exterior.

"The kybytz has Agricultural Council approval?" Ja'Layn asked.
          "Yes, of course, it's a requirement," Kryten answered.
          "So, it will have a Weather Station?"
          "Yes, but ... Oh, I see: Changes in Atmospheric Pressure." Kryten palm-faced.
          "If the object is as large as the boys describe it as being, there must have been some amount of air displacement. I'm assuming a volume of air that is greater than the actual object. And, if it was above the field, then it would also have been near the weather station," Ja'Layn theorised.

          "Such a phenomenon would require a tremendous amount of energy," Um'Kai stated.
          "Deep water masks radiation," Ja'Layn commented.

They all looked at each other in that way that the K'Stow do when there is no more to be said, but there remains a need to show that an understanding has been reached.

Um'Kai knelt before the boys.
          "What are your families' names for you? What do they call you in private?"
          "K't'inga, sir," Ne'moh said.
          "K'Vort, sir," Dur'ee said.
          "Very good names. I foresee that more than a basket shall be named after you."
          "And, your name, sir? If I may ask?" Dur'ee ventured.
          "Wharf."
          "The bridge from the land to the sea. Or, the bridge from the sea to the land. Depending on the direction of the symbol," Ne'moh said.

The klaxon went off. "Dive stations in ten. All crew to stations," came Ka'men's voice.

Sim'nee, Kul'inar and Annette came over to Um'Kai; Annette embraced him.
          She held his head in her hands. "You come back to me, you hear me? Even in death you belong to me. I will never let you go. Not even the sea and its creatures can have you."
          "Best do as she says," Sim'nee advised.

Kul'inar tapped a tuning-fork against a bow-runner and then placed the end of the tuning-fork on Um'Kai's scalp: It hummed hollowly.
          "Umm. That can't be good," Kul'inar commented.
          "You're not funny, Professor," Um'Kai commented.
          "I am funny: It says so on my doctorate; my thesis was in Humors."
          "Rest assured, when I get back, I will kill you."

Q'ono'S - Chapter 02 - Section 4

02 - Crush Depths & Crash Reports - 4.1

Section 4 of 4 - The Dive



Part 11

With a wave to those still on board the PT ship Ju’Throttle; Ne’moh and Um’Kai slipped over the side of the rowing-boat and into the wine dark sea.

The safety equipment was not for Um’Kai, it was for Zee'zoo and Ka’men St’eiff - Ka’men replaced Zee'zoo's brother, it was a rule not to risk close family in the same dive; Ne’moh had his own diving equipment that he had brought with him to the kybytz.

Apart from a cloth about his middle and Ja’Layn's monitoring devices; Um’Kai was naked. A pack on his back was meant to bring him to the surface - it would activate if he stopped moving.

Now, below the rowing-boat, Ne’moh monitored Um’Kai's blood-sats, having switched Um’Kai onto a helium-oxygen mix; they drifted there for fifteen minutes. At last satisfied that detectable nitrogen was out of Um’Kai's circulation; Ne’moh turned Um’Kai upside down, in order to get the intestinal gas out of his system.

Above, Dur'ee was first to spot the bubbles.

Then, it was time for Um’Kai to get the air out of his lungs; Ne’moh took the breather away from Um’Kai, and waited. Bubbles of air eased out of Um’Kai's mouth and nose, until he was now breathing water. Um’Kai could feel the change in his torso, as his lungs contracted; but a flap at the back of his throat opened and his K'Stow gills - fibrous fronds that had atrophied to a fibrous sac that protected the lungs in other Q'ono'ssian peoples - unfolded into the cavity space.

This trait, that had remained strong in the K'Stow, was not a true replacement for their air breathing lungs. The trait was recessive, or at least it is better to say that the branch of heritage represented by other Q'ono'ssians was statistically more likely to be passed on.

Ne’moh tested Um’Kai's hearing.

"I do not trust Ja’Layn," Ne’moh said.

Um’Kai reacted with surprise. He signed 'Why?'

"I can hear it in his voice," Ne’moh said.

Um’Kai made the sign for family with one hand - the fingers down forming a shape like a roof with the back of the hand, knuckles at the top; he pointed to Ne’moh and then upwards.

With a look of sadness that only a child could manage, even in a diving-mask, Ne’moh said, "I remember the stories of Zhark. The Klinzhai murdered not only many of my Ku'Layn and Kat'Anna family, but also ordinary Klingons who tried to protect them."

Um’Kai put a hand on Ne’moh's shoulder; they exchanged the look of understanding.

They felt a tug on the guide rope.

"Drop time," Ne’moh said.

Ne’moh locked Um’Kai onto the plumb, and let him drop.

Part 12

The rhodanobacteria that gave Great Ocean her pink hue existed in the first two-hundred cams of water; they used nutrients in the seas and photosynthesis for their biological processes.

Exiting that layer the sea below became dark, and the sea above gradually darkened becoming purplish and then darker still.

A thump and Um’Kai came to a stop: Intermediate Drop Stage; One and a Half kellicams.

Guided by Ka’men to the barely lit platform, Um’Kai waited patiently as Ka’men checked the equipment. The two rad-clickers were doing nothing interesting and the other pieces showed no sign of failure. Ka’men checked Um’Kai's blood gas with a probe down his throat: nominal.

Um’Kai could feel the burn in his lungs as they began to complain about the build-up of carbon-dioxide in his blood. His muscles were still fine at the moment.

Ka’men tapped his own head. In reply, Um’Kai tapped his own head.

Ka’men locked Um’Kai onto the plumb, and let him drop.

Um’Kai could hear singing. He looked about in the gloom. A zhark approached him, its eyes adorned by parasitic jewellery. Um’Kai did not panic: his heart had already slowed down considerably; fifteen beats per second now; vaso-dilation limited by lack of nitrous oxide, but blood-flow aided by vessel peristalsis - the myo-vesicle pulse of his circulation system.

The zhark circled him, sensing his electricity and scent; of the sea and not of the sea. Nothing tasty. It was not hungry, it cruised away.

The pressure of water was forcing the straps of Ja’Layn's equipment into his skin; Um’Kai took his time slowly loosening them.

Cold now.

A thump and Um’Kai came to a stop: Free-Dive Drop Stage; Three kellicams.

In his eyes, the ultra-violet sensitive receptors began to react to the lack of visible light, Zee’zoo's skin slightly glowed in patches, just as his own skin did; fluoro crystals in their epithelial scales responding to collisions from electrons lazily fizzing about in the water.

Zee’zoo tapped his own head. In reply, Um’Kai tapped his own head.

Zee’zoo unlocked Um’Kai from the guide, and let him loose.

There was nothing now: No light above, no light below.

The K'Stow had been the allies of the Klinzhai for centuries. They gave the Klinzhai that clarity of vision, that ability to plan. The K'Stow did not have the normal Q'ono'ssian way of seeing things, of seeing words, of tasting colours, of visualisation of ideas.

The psychologists called their ability "internal dialogue"; the ability to think without the interference of senses.
          A Kat'Anna could stab someone, but he would feel that knife entering his own body as if it was really happening to him.
          Insult the friend of a Ku’Layn, and that Ku’Layn would feel that insult as deeply as if he himself had been insulted.
          Tell a Klingon that you have slept with his wife, he does not hear the words:
HE SEES WHAT YOU HAVE DONE AND NEEDS TO REACT THEN AND THERE.

But, a K'Stow needed to see in the sea darkness;
if they had had a neurophysiological trait that interfered with their vision then that would have been life-threatening.

Other Q'ono'ssians found the K'Stow cold, like the physh of the seas.

And, was it that that was what was the problem with Annette, then?

Did she see him as cold? Or, was he just an entertaining freak ...

Why would she do this to me?

How could she do this to me?

What is this?

This depth of despair?

This depth? This death?

This crushing feeling.

This crushing.

This crush ...

This crush ...

Thump!

Um’Kai felt something. Something metallic. Old and metallic. His fingers felt the shape. The rad-clickers on each of his wrists were doing nothing. He felt an indentation in the metal. Three, no five characters: Eh'Ku'Shon Bu-Pay. It was the derrick from one-hundred and fifty years ago.

Torn from its foundations by ... by whatever was down here.

He had hit bottom, but not the bottom of the Abyss: He was on a shelf.

With his negative buoyancy, it was relatively easy to walk to the edge.

He looked down.

There was light there.

A rad-clicker clicked at his wrist: He held his left hand out over the Abyss; the clicking faded. He turned around. His chest was tightening. And, his thoughts were growing sluggish. Layers of complexity were being stripped away, leaving only the basic animal instinct behind.

And, this animal was happy where it was.

Um’Kai was incapable of telling whether the anoxia or carbon-dioxide build-up was causing him to feel this way, but other parts of his mind were fixed on a purpose.

These are your senses, feel them click, they are feeling your way to your prey, follow them, bring your prey back to the village, feed them, protect them.

Annoyingly, something on his back was tugging at him, Um’Kai wriggled free.

He trudged through the darkness, feeling as if he was lightly bouncing. Boing. Boing.

He felt fantastic.

Bubbles began to appear all about him.

"Hello," a beautiful woman smiled at him.

"Hello," he smiled back.

"I am Sylla Kuoros. Who are you?"

"I am Zwhacked." That wasn't right. "I am Zharf Whark." Near enough.

"Hello, Wharf," Sylla smiled, "take my hand."

Um’Kai reached out to her, and she took a hold of him.

Her touch stung momentarily, but then he felt even better. She pulled him along easily.

She walked across the meadow, with its golden flowers and green grass; pulling Um’Kai along like a balloon behind her.

"Are you my friend?" Um’Kai asked Sylla.

"Always, love."

Something nagged at Um’Kai. "You said it was off with us?" he said petulantly, and pouted.

"No. I would never have to break my word with you. We have no agreements, you and I. What we have is something unspoken, an understanding, something special."

"But, my father said ..."

"Maybe, you and your father have mistaken who the message is for? You don't have to make peace with a true friend; not even if you argue and fight with that friend."

Um’Kai thought about it. Tried to think about it.

Her voice was so beautiful though; he was inclined to agree with everything she said.

A lovely little house was in the golden field.

"Is this your house?" Um’Kai asked Sylla.

"No," said Sylla.

"Is this my house?" Um’Kai asked Sylla.

"No," said Sylla. "We have visitors, go inside."

His wrists started prickling at him madly and flashes appeared in his eyes.

Then, everything went black.

Part 13



Um’Kai became aware of having received several blows to the face;
he put his hand to his head and felt his jaw as he breathed in the stale air.

Air?

He looked around.



"Ullo?" Um’Kai said quizzically.



There was something he was meant to do. He looked around.

"Ooh, sooo shiny. Shiny, shiny, shiny."





"Shut up, woman. I'm trying to think ... You have a nice voice. I need to sit down."

An overhead light came on, and little lights in the floor ran towards a chair.

Um’Kai crawled along the floor, following the lights and giggling loudly.

He hauled himself up and slumped in the chair. He looked out the window.

Something ... something there ... something ... He had to do something.

"Where are my friends?" Um’Kai whined and stuck his lips out.



On the sea, there were craft surrounding (at a distance) a large boat.A screen lit up showing a multi-spectral display of the area around the cliff face. There were many vehicles parked on the cliff, some quite large. A group of smaller bodies were contained in an area surrounded by larger bodies who held cold tubes with little hot bits. There were craft in the air.

His brain recognised the shape of the Ju'Throttle. He clapped his hands.

"Annie's butt! Annie's butt!" He smiled. Then, he frowned. "I hate her."

He looked closer. "Who's that? It's too small."

The resolution changed, the screen focussed in on the boat and there was more detail.

"Ah, the kids. They are such good mates. I've got a good mate. He's my cousin. So, you know, he's family and all that kerk. But, we have such great fun."

Um’Kai looked at the screen. One of the smaller shapes extended a hand to a taller shape, who then appeared to be looking at something. His own right arm was hurting so much, his left felt okay. Tracking Um’Kai's eye movement, the computer tracked in to the figure on the screen.

"Oh, that's him. That's Kryten. Oh, he's great. You'd like him. Everybody likes him. He likes cool stuff like this."







Um’Kai's eyes welled-up. "Yes. I wish he was here."



Part 14

Just as those of the Clan Kat'Anna could "see" words; the Ku'Layn could "see" numbers, or more precisely they could see images and shapes representing equations.

So, when spirals and tracks appeared in Kryten's eyes, he was not at first alarmed. However, when his vision became obscured and Ne’moh & Dur'ee disappeared in a fog of bright fire-flies, he did feel rather disconcerted. But, what drove him into panic, was watching the canvas he held in his hands dissolve before his very eyes. His eyes dissolved, also.

The boat and crew, red sea and pink sky, the Klingon launches; it all disappeared.

And, then, as the fire-flies receded, he found himself in a cramped space (at two cams in height, the cabin was not enough for him) with gleaming surfaces and dark display panels with primary colours. And, there were physhes on the floor, most of which were dead and decaying, though some were still alive, barely.

He heard giggling, and then staggered back as a figure jumped on him.

"Oh, you lovely, lovely man. With your cute Ku'Layn keister. I love you, man."

Kryten supported Um’Kai's weight.

"Wharf ... Rhod'un'he Um’Kai Zhark'Stow. It is good to see you," he said. "After your retrieval float surfaced ... we thought ... It is good to see you."

Kryten could tell Um’Kai really was not listening to him.



"Hello ... Computer?"



Kryten shifted Um’Kai's weight onto a shoulder, and walked him to a seat.

"Come on, big physh. You've done some very good work, but you need to rest."

"I did good job?"

"More than you know, my cousin ... Or that you can tell at the moment."

"Will you tell her? Will you tell Annette what I did?"

"Once your head clears, you can tell her yourself, if you still want to."

"The message wasn't for us, Kryten. It wasn't for the K'Stow. Sylla said so."

Kryten raised a brow. "Sylla?" he noted.

Settling Um’Kai onto an acceleration couch, Kryten looked around.

"Computer: What permissions do I have?"



"I'm guessing that was you explaining in Salvage Mode that I am allowed access to processes in Salvage Mode for salvage and recovery purposes."



"Can you send me, my friend or both of us back to land using your ... Transport?"



"Survival Mode! That's not good. Obviously if you have weapons, I can't access them?"



"Do you have a distress system? The capability to emit a flare?"



Kryten smiled and unfurled the canvas; he looked at Ne’moh's latest work.

Epilogue

"The Open Wharf" was the new kat'anna character entered into the "Great Book of Clans".

The traditional humped symbol for a bridge with two arches below, had been combined by Ne’moh Kat’Anna K’Stow with a series of waves - presenting the appearance of a decorated bridge; and at either side of the wave-bridge was an arrow.

The "flare" that was sent up formed "The Open Wharf" character in the sky above the tableau of Klingon forces besieging the renegade group who had gone against all clan compacts and contracts: The Renegades had given themselves over to the needs of a Few over the needs of the Many.

But, in doing so, the needs of that Few had served the needs of the Many.

Soon afterwards, the K'Stow withdrew from Great Qontinent.

A few remained behind, those who had duties and obligations to other Clans, Houses and Families. The Great K'Stow Pool had chosen to reconnect with what had always been the source of their heritage, the origin of life on Q'ono'S; they went to the Great Ocean.

And, the ship, the ship that came from a distant star, was taken into the Protection of the Klinzhai.