The Hollow Planet - part three

CHAPTER FIVE

When the Commander arrived, he and Dad exchanged salutes. “My good friend,” Jogans said, with great affection. “So good to see you.”

“I am a civilian, these days,” Dad said. “This child is my daughter.”

“I could tell,” Jogans replied. “She has the same determined jaw.”

After exchanging further pleasantries, the Commander brought up Dad’s executed sentence, noting that, as it had failed, he would need to report this outcome to the authorities.

Dad explained that he had come to Pythonville for the express purpose of gaining an escort to take him before the Council, to explain some urgent findings he had made while in exile. The result of ignoring the information would spell catastrophe for the entire world. He knew that he could be killed instead of listened to. Even so, he had to try.

Jogans held Gwenn’s father in the utmost esteem. But he knew the Council to be headstrong and unlikely to grant him an audience. Instead, they would kill him. He

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offered to speak on his friend’s behalf, first he would need every pertinent detail. He had no notion what that entailed until Dad felt it necessary to start his explanation at the very beginning: The writing of a novel, about a fictional planet called Pi. The Commander listened, rapt, fascinated. At the end, he asked of Dad, “You say you would move Pi, to save her. But you didn’t say where you would put it?”

He looked Jogans in the eye and said, “The Earth has a sister planet. Mars, we call it. I would send Pi to that world at the highest rate of speed that is possible. The white portion of Pi, the weak, expendable part, will crash into Mars and give way on impact, so that, if my calculations are correct and the machinery does not fail, Mars will slip inside the hollow core of Pi, wrapped like a walnut inside its shell.”

Jogans threw up his hands. “Preposterous,” he exclaimed. “I should have known you were playing me. Guard. Escort these two to the drone and prepare to make a trip to Council headquarters.”

The beauty of such drones, they were more efficient than cars or planes and anyone capable of driving a car could handle one. Gwenn liked that her Dad had in a way invented them, even as she climbed inside and claimed her seat. Her Dad sat across from her and two soldiers clamored into the back. Commander Jogans took to the pilot’s seat. He refused to even look at Dad as he set the controls and prepared to take off.

No one spoke as they soared over a wounded landscape, to lightly set down close to an imposing older building. This had been an obscure state building but was commandeered after the beautiful original capital was recently destroyed. The two soldier

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guards were obliged to hold their weapons at the ready as they escorted the prisoners through a gate and into the great hallway, with a dozen doors housing different agencies, ending at a twelve foot by eight foot entry that was electrically operated. Eight more guards stood watch at a station, off to the side. Their eyes followed her Dad and Gwenn as Jogans and party paused for the door to be opened.

The vast room that opened up had a gallery to seat two hundred persons. The assembly table, half an oval, had been designed for a leader to sit dead center, with the cabinet at the right hand, the lesser officials to the left. They with their captors waited near the podium. After an ominous wait the Council members filed in, in a trickle, distinguished by their long yellow robes. They mostly were cyborgs, with the exception of two Birdpeople. The Council head was Wirng Gring, a long-time rival to Issak Spyng. He was large and meaty, with eyes constantly sparking, as if set in a child’s machine and gone haywire, but it was a normal state for this man. He took his seat, attempting to appear regal, but succeeded in just looking pompous. After all were quietly seated, Gring looked with puzzled curiosity at the duo brought before him. “Why are you not dead?” he said.

Dad stood tall and dignified as he quietly pleaded with the Council to hear him out, but the sentence was renewed, with no vote, even, and Jogans was ordered to take both prisoners to the site of the prison and to have his command shoot them.

Only then did Jogans’ feelings toward Dad soften. He said he was sorry as he marched Dan and Gwenn off to get shot.

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Behind the Council building, the prison stood like a fortress, with massive walls and two or three courtyards on the grounds. The Commander put Dad and Gwenn in the first courtyard and ordered their hands secured behind them. He lined up a team of riflemen twenty feet away. “Do you have anything to say?” he asked of them both.

Dad looked into the face of his beautiful daughter, who appeared remarkably strong. “I am sorry I led you to this,” he said tenderly. “I don’t know why I had to create these beings and this planet. It was illegal of me to do so and an immoral act. That I could not anticipate the disastrous result is inconsequential. I am one of history’s great criminals, but my greatest regret is for you.”

Gwenn defiantly faced her executioners. “You’re a bunch of bullies,” she exclaimed. “This planet is going to be slung to pieces in outer space. You won’t be bullies for long.”

Her Dad stood calmly, making a wry smile for his daughter. “I haven’t told over half of it,” he said in a gentle voice. “The debris from Pi will likely render the Earth devoid of life also. Think of all those continent and moon-sized chunks dropped in Earth orbit, unpredictable in the routes they take. The meteor that ended the era of dinosaurs was small in comparison to what Pi has with which to pelt the Earth.”

Gwenn, hands on hips, glared at Jogans. “Hear that?” she shouted. “Did you hear what you are about to do?”

“Stand still,” Jogans ordered, evading the girl‘s challenge. “On this white mark. Like so.”

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He posed for them. “Would you prefer to be blindfolded?”

“No. I suppose not,” Dad said, with Gwenn shaking her head no, vigorously.

“Very well.” The Commander looked to the troops. “Prepare to fire,” he ordered.

Gwenn spent the final moments before the order to fire admiring the peaceful demeanor of her Dad, who stared toward the eyes of Gernman Jogans.

The soldiers readied their rifles, half aiming at Dad, half aiming at Gwenn.

Jogans appeared to steel himself as if he were acting against his own wishes. “Ready,” he said dramatically. After a pause, “Fire at will.”

The fingers were tightened against the triggers. The troops appeared ready to end the prisoners’ lives, until one soldier suddenly stepped forward, letting his gun dangle by his side. “Commander, sir,” he begged. “Can I be excused from this detail? My conscience won’t allow me to pull the trigger.”

Before Jogans could order the man to be a man and do his duty the other men let down their guns. These battle-hardened troops were men of conscience, precisely because Dan Wrenn had drawn them that way, not by design, but because his innermost feelings had intruded, once again, deep beneath the threshold of his writing process. In the confusion of the next few minutes, a runner came into the courtyard. He approached, waving a folded paper at the Commander. “Thank goodness I made it in time,” he said, excitedly.

As Jogans began opening the message, the runner shouted for all to hear, “Spyng lives. The illegitimate Council is dissolved.”

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After perusing the long paper in its entirety the officer looked up. “It’s true,” he said. “Issak Spyng tumbled from the chunk of land that got torn away by the catastrophe. He fell under a pile of rubble but crawled away and soon was rescued. He is coming to the Council hall now, to restore his government.”

“Going before them with his broken arm,” the runner added.

Jogans ordered the prisoners’ hands unbound. “You will have to go before his court. Issak Spyng will decide what is to be done with you,” he said.

“If I can but speak with Isaak, we can get to work saving Pi from destruction,” Dad said.

“I am sorry. You are going to jail.” His attention moved to Gwenn. “Your daughter has no official charge against her. Wirng Gring merely wanted to dispose of the problem she presents with no drawn-out process. You (addressing Gwenn) are free to go.”

“Arrest me too,” she demanded. “Anything you do to my daddy, you are going to have to do to me.”

The Commander ordered three soldiers to lead the girl to the gate and put her out, even if they had to pitch her out. Her Dad planted himself before his erstwhile comrade and pushed his nose against Jogans’ nose. “You know perfectly well that Issak has not judged me guilty of a crime. Why are you continuing the Council’s judgments after they have been discontinued?”

Jogans was equally stubborn. “My last order was to shoot the two of you. It has not been rescinded. I overstepped my authority in not carrying it out and by releasing her.

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Now let me do my job.”

Gwenn retraced her way to the home of the Pi government. She ascended the steps and raced beyond the guards. Before they could react she already had breached the chamber door and began a futile search for anybody of authority. The chamber was eerily silent, for the few minutes it took the guards to figure out how they would deal with her. They took the cowards way, by sending in a woman soldier, who wore an officer’s uniform and who had a beak, rather like the beak of a chicken. After coming forward, she paused to study Gwenn for a long moment. “You are Dan Wrenn’s daughter?” she said.

Gwenn nodded.

“The Council made a mistake when it condemned you and your father. We are working to get it reconciled and to free the both of you. Our leader, I believe you know. He is on the way here, coming by ambulance. His injuries remain severe, but he is putting the interests of Pi ahead of his own.”

“But they still have my daddy. When will they let him go?”

“Only the leader has the power to commute that sentence,” the chicken-beaked woman replied. “Come with me to the commissary and share a meal.”

“No. I want to see Mr. Spyng.”

The soldier put Gwenn in a gallery seat. “Then wait here,” she said. “I intend to bring you back a sandwich.”

The pause gave Gwenn the opportunity to better think over the situation. She now felt certain that Commander Jogans would not shoot her Dad without further orders and

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she was certain the order would never come. She made up her mind that nothing was going to keep her from reaching Spyng, to plead the case for clemency. The hard chairs of the gallery made for uncomfortable sitting. But, she remained still, until the soldier returned, bearing a sandwich. Gwenn felt guilty for eating while Dad went hungry, but she knew he would be happy that she had been fed. Famished, she devoured the food in several great bites, swallowing it in chunks. There was a drink to wash it down.

After another short wait, the gallery seats began to fill, with cyborgs mostly to the front and Birdpeople to the rear. The soldier, who had never named herself, took a seat beside her, as government officials began to trickle into the assembly room. Soon, all but a few seats were taken at the half-oval table. Then, the noisy room fell silent, as a procession entered from a side entrance.

The procession was headed by Issak Spyng, being assisted by a near giant of a cyborg, with great arms and a head as great and shaggy as Gwenn ever had seen. Spyng wore a cast on an arm and a patch over an eye. Then our heroine gasped loudly, as she recognized the portly figure of Wilfred Combs, marching solemnly behind Spyng and two other borgs. Combs had a bandaged hand.

When Spying paused behind his official chair and raised both hands, looking with affection on those assembled, the crowd erupted in cheers. It was a standing ovation that might have continued indefinitely had the exalted leader not signaled, by hand motions, to be silent and be seated.

Issak Spyng addressed the hall, explaining that he had been thrown to the side

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when the catastrophe destroyed his laboratory. He asked Combs to stand up. He explained that this man had been on the scene to save his life. More wild applause, as Spying indulged the enthusiasm. After the cheering died, his demeanor became solemn. “It is my place to inform this assembly that our world has changed in ways most of you could never guess. It is a change that is the cause of the recent destruction, which was necessary because it is the sole reason this planet will never be destroyed. As was in the cards, prior to that.” He looked over the expectant confused faces. “In short, it is my duty to inform you that it was my actions that caused us so much destruction, an unavoidable consequence of saving Pi from certain annihilation.”

He went on to explain in convincing detail how Pi came to be and the measures taken to prevent the Earthbound scientists from deleting its existence. “Time was dwindling rapidly. There was no opportunity to protect and prevent in this action. For all anyone has lost, I accept full blame and also consequence. Therefore I am calling a general election to replace my government, as the voting public may decide.”

A stunned assemblage looked upon one another and the leader in utter stupefaction. Then a few bold souls stood and denounced Spyng, for the destruction he had caused and the flimsy story he told made no logical sense. “Crazy scientists,” one brute-browed cyborg shouted. “He nearly blew up Pi with that lab of his. Time to send him to the White Nothing Plain.”

A growing faction began to call for Spying to go on trial for mayhem and murder. That was the final straw to the child in the back row. She made her way through the

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milling crowd all the way to the podium. She climbed up on a rail and began shouting, “Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.”

And then Wilfred Combs stood beside her and bellowed so loudly the shocked chamber quieted, to pay attention to the odd-looking person, who was neither of the Birdpeople nor cyborg. Even Gwenn stood in awe.

“If you doubt his story, where do you think we came from, the girl and I?” Combs’ booming voice questioned.

“Freaks,” he of the brute-brow rumbled.

“My father made this planet and all of you,” Gwenn said, her voice in that moment rivaling Mr. Combs in strength. “He’s here, at the prison. Why don’t you ask him about it?”

Spyng had moved to the back to allow the people to make their decision. Gwenn’s voice brought him forward again. He cradled her face in his hands. “Gwenn,” he said; “I need your father here. Go with my security guard and bring him back here.”

In her absence, the majority chose to hear all of the facts before making decisions, although there were competing voices declaring Spying a criminal as well as pushing forgiveness and undying support. Dan Wrenn was brought in through the same door Spyng had used earlier. There were angry voices, yet they quieted from curiosity after Gwenn’s Dad was introduced. “This man,” Issak Spying declared, “is our creator. We at one time were a figment within his mind. But he created me to be a genius. And we both created the process that made us break through the barrier separating our artificial

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dimension from the real one; just enough to allow Pi to slip through. Look to the sky in the night time and see how the stars and planets are reconfigured.”

He turned the lectern over to Dad, who spoke slowly and distinctly, outlining his thinking that led to a novel about Pi and how he as a scientist was able to create the world in the novel, complete with a portal allowing one to visit here. Eventually, he told of how he and Gwenn came to be on board the planet; that it was basically hollow and that being hollow portends the disintegration of Pi.

Issak Spyng reeled, as though he had been struck in the head with a club, for he had had no clue that Pi was hollow. He grabbed Dad by the arm and dragged him out of the hall. Only Gwenn and Mr. Combs dared follow them into a back room where Spying railed at her Dad, with a fury such as Gwenn had never before witnessed in anyone. “Instead of creating a global panic with a doomsday tale like that you ought to have approached me in private. And, you ought to enlighten me with a bit of evidence.”

Combs nodded his head. “Yes, yes,” he asserted. “Evidence.”

Dad stared back, impassive, awaiting his turn so he could defend himself. When Spyng at last quieted down Dad explained how and why the planet could be that defective. “So long as Pi remained in the dimension I created for it there was no danger,” he said. “Now, it’s only a question of time.”

Spyng studied Dad’s face, reading the expression, probing the eyes. “Something you’re not telling me?” he said at last.

Dad became animated. “I have the wildest, craziest, plan in the whole universe,” he

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said. “Come with me for a tour of inner Pi. I will show you the most awesome scenario you cannot imagine.”

“Not until you give me an outline of your plan,” Spyng replied skeptically.

Dad looked a bit sheepish when he said, “We are going to make Pi into a rocket and send it to Mars.”

“Mars? What’s Mars?”

Dad pointed to the sky, in the correct general direction. “It’s Earth’s sister planet. We are going to put Mars inside of Pi.”

In the end, Spyng had no choice. He returned to the assembly to explain that it was too soon to panic; that the greatest scientific minds alive today were on the job. He asked the people to go home and see to their personal affairs for the time being; there would be a general notice when a plan was made so the public could have time to take appropriate actions.

Spyng delayed the expedition, long enough to put on standby crews capable of carrying out Dad’s ambitious project and then gathered the best minds available, to help guide them. He would demand bold ideas from all. In a short week, the scientists were ready. They allowed themselves to be led by Dad and his daughter. They all were flabbergasted when once they went into the hole and began to look about.

Spying walked around, hands on hips, looking for reasoning behind the planning that erected the odd structures that he saw. Finally, he asked Dad if he could explain it. “You didn’t mention these strange structures.”

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“I sort of did,” Dad replied. “I said that the configuring of certain portions of the inner structure can be helpful when we convert Pi into a rocket.” His face reddened slightly. “What I didn’t tell you - Well - I subconsciously put a game I used to play, instead of a molten core, down here.”

Spying threw up his arms. “You created a hollow planet that’s bound to fly apart, despite millions living here.”

Dad appeared to wish he were able to dodge the question. “Essentially, yes,” he replied weakly. “Not on purpose. My innermost thoughts were not supposed to be in play, but they crept in and influenced my work.”

Spying turned away, his eyes sweeping the corridor they were in. “The pertinent question now is,” he said, “how are we going to turn a bubble of a world into a rocket?”

Combs, who had been nearby listening, appeared to be totally horror-stricken by the exchange. At least the Titanic had a few lifeboats. In this scenario, all and everything would disintegrate into deep space. He sat down against a wall and held his head in his hands. The team moved on with their work, ignoring his distress, feeling they had no time to waste on ones falling to the wayside.

Gwenn had wandered to the stream to play with the friendly fish and had not noticed Combs going to pieces. She felt confident in the men in charge, feeling now that she could relax for a time. She was mentally tired, wanting only to unburden herself in some simple pleasures. She shared a bit of sweet bread she had hoarded from lunch with three small fishes that appeared to be always smiling at her. She thought of Tyler

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Meekem, as she toyed with them, for the first time in a good while, wishing they could be together again. She dared not allow her thoughts to dwell on the probability that she may never walk on the Earth again; may never ride her pink bike with the fat tires alongside Tyler’s black racing bike. Like the thoughtless youngster she was, she only then remembered that her mother had been returned home and was recovered from her Pi ordeal. She felt a twinge of guilt, although she knew the truth in her heart, of how much she missed and loved her mother. She could hear the wonder in the scientists’ voices as they called to one another over each new discovery. There was building excitement in the utterances. She believed them to be just becoming aware of what her Dad already knew.

In the weeks to follow, Dad, Spyng, Combs and a band of scientists worked with construction crews to set up labs, production facilities and to begin alterations that would transform the internal structure of Pi. Gwenn watched from the sidelines, feeling unimportant and forgotten. Frequently, during the long nights, she was awakened by the stress engendered groaning, the complaint of a planet in mortal agony.

With the help of a recovered Combs, Pi was able to establish communications with the Earth. They then could warn the humans that Earthly operations on Mars would be permanently scuttled, once Pi trapped it inside. There was no anger or recriminations from Earth, once it was explained how the maneuver would save millions of lives. On the contrary, Pi, in its present location was wreaking havoc with Earth, causing extreme tides and earthquakes. They expressed relief as they admitted to discussing more violent means of removing Pi. They fell into negotiations to send the first rocket intended for human

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transport to Mars to instead be directed to Pi. Both sides wished to swap willing natives so that nobody lived on the wrong world.

Gwen heard the scientists discussing that a fictional Pi could work quite well, but the real Pi had inadequate water and infrastructure for a population so great. It was fortunate that water had been discovered on Mars.

One day, Dad told Gwenn that the rocket from home had arrived and had a short return time. The scientists, under Issak Spyng, had their project well in hand. Meaning, he and she would be going home. It was a rare occurrance with Gwenn, to cry from happiness. Through her tears, she told Dad how grateful she was that her family would be all together again. Close to tears himself, Dad assured her they would never again be separated.

She expected their wait would be similar to time spent in an airport. They instead were ferried by drone to a spot on the White Nothing Plain. It was a site chosen in the interest of safety for those on the ground. She wished that Mr. Spyng could have seen them off, for she would have expressed her thanks and her admiration. Likely, he knew anyway. They transferred from the drone, directly into the rocket. They did not see who the rocket brought here from Earth but were given to know that the catastrophe between the two planets had dislodged thousands of Pi residents and put them alive on islands in the oceans of Earth.

As she moved from drone to rocket, she had a sudden realization that made her look in vain for certain individuals. “Where is Mr. Combs?” she asked her Dad.

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“For the time being,” she was told, “his place is here. His is the greatest scientific mind of all time.”

Gwenn reflected a moment. “Him? Why is that?”

“For one, it was his formulations that gave me the clue how to bring Pi into physical existence. This whole Pi rocket project that’s going on right now is his baby, more so than anything Issak and I have contributed.”

As she stepped into the rocket, she said, almost to herself, “I’m sorry I kicked him those times.”

Dad said nothing, except, “We are going to get you back to being a school girl again.”

It was a thought that appealed to her. She missed her pink bike with the fat tires and those structured days of school and coming home to family. After a few days, she adjusted to the weightless life of deep space travel, enough to grow bored with it. She took to watching the movies provided, via a computer screen. She loved to loiter near her father, as he worked and to float around him the times he sat back to enjoy cups of coffee. It was like the longest bus ride ever. But eventually, the faithful rocket settled on the pad in Florida and Dad and Gwenn were able to fly home to Sandburg, with a minimum of fuss.

The news media covered Dad as a folk hero, not having a clue he had been the prime source of the Pi phenomenon. A crowd of near fifty waited outside his home, along with two reporters and a TV crew. Jenna Wrenn had been fielding questions for a time

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when they arrived. Dad hugged Gwenn to his side as the people created a narrow path for them. He waved to the people and thanked them and then he, Mom and Gwenn came together in an emotional hug, with tears falling from their eyes. Dad thanked the crowd again and forced aside a few reporters while ushering his family in and locking the door behind them. To the knocks and shouts they turned a deaf ear.

For the rest of the day and deep into the evening, by mutual consent, the family did no talking about the recent past. It was about healing the loss of separation. Gwenn felt really grateful that her parents both were fully recovered from the experiences on Pi. Mom had a feast of a meal ready when they arrived. It was like Christmas as a small child, for Gwenn, as she consumed the greatest dinner of her lifetime. For the remainder of the week, they sequestered themselves, before letting their lives revert to normal.

On the following Monday, Gwenn arrived for school. For the first time ever she missed seeing Wilfred Combs’ face in his window. Not that she missed his friends always being about when she was out on the street. Combs’ friends were security, as she had found out, and were not really nosey about her affairs. She put her pink bike in the rack, halfway expecting to hear a boy’s voice speak up and say, “Hey, you hag.”

But there was no voice and no boy as she turned around. Late as always, she hastened to class. She smiled and thanked him when Mr. Greenlow welcomed her back and then complimented her celebrated adventure. He gave her a list of missed assignments before returning his class to business as usual. Moody all through the morning lessons, she eagerly awaited the lunch period, for there were questions Queen

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and Ophelia might answer.

The loud jabber of the students’ voices filled the cafeteria. Heads were turning as she moved through the crowded hall. She sought out her usual friends, who were not apt to always choose the same table to eat from. She found them near the center. She hailed them from a distance, then all were hollering, “Hi” and the like. Queen scooted a bit to make more room, then it was like old times. The girls wanted to tell Gwenn all about their own experiences, one allowing the other to speak, then relieving her long enough to add to her own narrative, and back and forth, their eyes never leaving Gwenn‘s face. She went along with that, nodding encouragement and interjecting the occasional, “Oh really?” “He (or she) did?” And so on. Near the end of the lunch break, her friends fell silent. That is when Gwenn said, “Where is Tyler?”

“Haven’t you heard the news?” Queen asked, surprised.

“He vanished about when you vanished,” Ophelia said. “It was on TV for days.”

“Ophelia and I thought you both were kidnapped together by a serial killer.”

Gwenn believed instantly that Tyler had somehow outwitted Mr. Combs, that he had followed her to Pi, and now was trapped somewhere on that planet - She could hardly wait to get home and tell her Dad.

During the second half classes, Gwenn explained to Mr. Greenlow that she could not wait until the final bell to get home. She must leave now. He explained that it would not be possible. Her bellyache was bad and getting worse, she lied. The teacher allowed her to visit the nurse’s office. A bit of play-acting got her the use of the phone and a call

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to Mom, which otherwise would not be allowed.

“What is it, dear? Are you sick?” Mom said, hovering from afar.

“No, but listen.”

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Gwenn explained in a few sentences about Tyler. “Is there something you and Dad can do?”

“We are going to find that out,” she replied. “I don’t have anything to tell you right now.”

“Okay. I am going back to class, now,” Gwenn told her.

She slouched in her seat for the rest of the day. As the final bell sounded and the students went rushing out, Mr. Greenlow moved between Gwenn and the exit. “Gwenn,” he said, “if you will write me a four-page report on your exploits on Pi, I will let you slide on most make up work. I am more than you know a great fan of your whole family.”

Gwenn felt flattered. She readily agreed.

“You know,” the teacher went on, “I read your father’s novel when it first left the press. I did so because I knew him to be a local fellow. Later on, I came to admire him the more because a few friends let me know what a fine scientific mind is his. It thrills me to be teaching the daughter of one of the great creators in all of history. I would so love to have him autograph my copy of Pi World.”

Gwenn assured Mr. Greenlow she would get him the autograph.

After, on the way home, she counted herself among the luckiest in all of humanity, what with her family together again, her wonderful friends, Pi in the process of getting rescued. As she daydreamed of herself as a grownup, following in Dad’s shoes, she came onto the home block in time to see Dad getting pushed into an unmarked, but inescapably law enforcement owned vehicle.

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Before she could arrive on the scene the car was gone. She dropped the bike on the spot and ran to the door. She burst in on Mom, who was sitting, dazed, on the lounge in the family room. Jenna looked at her daughter and softly said, “They are going to try him for some horrific crimes.”

“How can they do that?” the shocked girl cried out, feeling suddenly ill.

“Because,” Mom replied, simply, “he’s guilty. I don’t think you understand how destructive his science has been. They are still assessing the damage and still tallying the dead.”

In the days to follow, Gwenn learned that her Dad’s reckless and illegal use of science had resulted in catastrophes around the globe. The planet called Pi had ground its surface into the Earth, ripping a path of destruction not seen since the colliding meteor that killed off the dinosaurs. Even now there were continuing earthquakes and lethal tides, brought on by the close proximity of the new planet. Government prosecutors felt that Dad might just deserve the death penalty.

Jenna Wrenn, while not considered totally innocent by those officials, had escaped an indictment. Not so, Wilfred Combs, who would also face a jury, in the event he returned to his home planet in the future.

Gwenn’s Mom spent so much of her time with attorneys and persons and groups of influence, that the lonely girl moved back with Miss Bloom for the duration. She went to school but did not participate. Mr. Greenlow carefully kept himself at a distance.

Then, Gwenn had an idea. It was a simple enough idea that it just ought to work.

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She had a plan to save her father’s life. She went to the door of Mr. Combs’ house and punched the doorbell, having no idea if anybody would respond. She had long loathed this door, this building, and now she accepted both as had her Dad. When at last the door opened there was an old man on the other side. His stooped shoulders were draped with a comfort and he steadied himself by gripping tightly the cane in his hands. His eyes drooped badly, but the balls within were active, signaling nothing could get past them. “Eh?” he said, frowning slightly because he did not recognize this child with a determined demeanor.

“Good day,” Gwenn offered, tentatively. “I am Gwenn, Dan Wrenn’s daughter.”

The old man’s face registered a gamut of thought and emotion. The pleasure he experienced from meeting this offspring of his son’s great collaborator showed through, making Gwenn feel reassured. “I am Alex Combs,” he said. “What can I do for you, this fine day?”

“I have to have a way to get a message sent to Wilfred Combs,” she began. “It’s important. Life and death.”

“Come in, my dear,” he said, moving back into the cool, dark, interior. “I must sit down.”

He managed to back up to a wheelchair and plop himself in the seat.

After shifting the comfort to cover his knees, he regarded the young visitor, his head hanging, eyes rolled high in the sockets, barely enough to see his young visitor‘s face. “I have been following the news, regarding your father. He is in a pickle. I assume

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your message will concern his welfare?”

“I know a way for him to receive a pardon,” Gwenn replied, importantly, looking old beyond her years. “But I need to send it in secret for it to work.”

Alex Combs attempted to lean forward a bit. Failed, he resumed his earlier position. “And, what is the message to be, if I may be allowed to ask?”

“Both Mr. Combs and Isaak Spyng have to fake getting hurt in a terrible accident. Then they have to ask permission to let my Dad return and finish the job on Pi for them to save both planets from being destroyed.”

Alex said while applauding, “You’ve solved it, child.”

He sat quietly a moment. “The only secret messaging available between here and Pi is to be done from the greater Pi island. We have to think up some way for you to go there, without arousing suspicion.”

Gwenn was taken aback. “Me? I go there?”

The old man seemed to be mulling alternatives, none of which jelled into viable plans. In his mind, it became settled. “If not you, whom? Wilfred’s colleagues are with him on Pi. I can’t escape the bonds of my daily regimen due to a failing heart.” He paused for his breath, before going on. “When you go, we will need to slip you by the scrutiny of press and authorities. It happens there are cruise ships making stops there. It’s actually quite popular with some circles. So it‘s doable.”

“Don’t I have to talk it over with Mom first?”

“Where is your mom?”

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Gwenn had no answer. She had not seen or heard from her for days. She had never expected to be put on the spot to try and deal in an adult’s world, in matters that, should her efforts fail, might lead to the extinction of life on two planets. She was a child who ought to be riding her bike to school and coming home to a happy family.

The old man had been thinking, mightily. Suddenly he brightened and said, “If I could stand up right now; if I could walk right now; I would begin a dance you wouldn’t believe. I know who could be your mother and she would love to take a cruise this time of year. You go home and I will have Mona give you a call.”

She liked Alex Combs very much. She thanked him and he wished her success. Then she went home to wait.

Mona, it turned out, was Wilfred’s cousin, Mona Corn. Mona was a pretty person with an outgoing personality. She was also a fitness instructor. She called almost right away to let Gwenn know the cruise ship would be leaving port at midday, on the day following.

She knew that phone calls with her parents would likely be intercepted. She knew only to write a brief letter to leave with Miss Bloom. In the morning, she sat at the table with the kindly woman, enjoying poached eggs and jelly-buttered toast. She had tepid orange pekoe tea, while Gwenn sipped on cold orange juice. Then Gwenn sat before her now empty plate, placed her hands on the table and explained she would have to go away and that she was leaving a letter for her mother.

The poor woman became flustered. She did not know how to process that

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information, thinking only that Gwenn must be about to do some kind of wrong. She stared at Gwenn in distress, until Gwenn reassured her everything would be all right, that everything she was about to do was designed to help out her parents.

Miss Bloom relaxed a bit. She still seemed somewhat confused, but she had been mollified by the girl’s explanation. “Bye, ‘bye, dear,” she said, staring sadly into her teacup.

“I will need to pack my suitcase,” Gwenn said, feeling relief that this task had not been so difficult after all.

She barely had the time to pack her belongings before a taxi came in the drive. She called, “Goodbye, Miss Bloom,” as she went outside.

The passenger inside the car, Mona, greeted her warmly. “Good morning, darling daughter. Good to see you are ready.”

Gwenn timidly climbed in. They agreed in advance to no talking and went quietly, all the way to the island, knowing in this electronic age an odd word could tip off the wrong sort of person.

Although Gwenn had been to the ocean, in times past, she had never before seen a cruise ship. This one, the Orly Grace, was a big one. She now understood why these vessels could be referred to as floating cities.

Security boarding her was tight. There had been fanatics trying to reach the island with all sorts of objectives, from missionary to terrorism. Only dignitaries and legitimate tourists could visit this odd island kingdom.

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The following days, they played mother and daughter and took advantage of the amenities just like the other passengers. Gwenn lounged by the pool much of the time, sometimes smiling at a boy swimming near, showing off his prowess in the water, while Mona sought for partners to engage her at tennis. On disembarking, they were instructed, they must keep with the tour guides.

They were happy enough to follow along with the guide at first, who initially took them into a restaurant staffed by Birdpeople, a few blocks into the city. Such a cavernous room they entered, for it was served by those rare specimens of Birdpeople - the winged variety. Gwenn smiled with delight over the antics of a half-grown Birdpeople boy absent-mindedly flying loops, out of boredom, as his mother waited tables. As for the food, the eating establishment had already been invaded by Earth-style dishes and soft drinks, but the traditional fare was the staple and also the most popular. Gwenn took a Pi style sandwich and the drink that seemed to be a mild tea. Mona ate a salad only.

The guide ushered the group to shops, where one might procure objects to one’s heart’s content. Mona finally demanded to see the government buildings, “to make the education inclusive of the whole people.” She added that she was tired of buying merchandise.

The guide, a man in his early twenties, was sure of his mission, having taken all of the indoctrination to heart, true enough to avoid the complainer’s demands. Giving up on persuasion, Mona signaled Gwenn to gradually drop back, until they were trailing the group by several steps. At a crowded intersection, they became entangled in a surge of

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non-tour pedestrians and used that as an opportunity to slip away down a cross street. Mona coached Gwenn to move casually and to just look around. Given time, an opportunity to make contact could present itself.

After several blocks with no hopeful signs, the pair began to worry searchers might find them before they could present their message. Gwenn said, “I’m thirsty.”

Mona agreed and they cast about for a likely establishment to drop into. Gwenn discovered a sidewalk vendor, who specialized in hot dogs and carbonated soft drinks, everything Earth imported.

The gracious vendor wiped the bottles dry before popping off the caps. Gwenn, in the act of receiving hers, was brought up short by a familiar voice. “I know you. Issak Spying’s good friend.”

It was a rotund cyborg, a woman Gwenn barely remembered seeing, from her trip with Mr. Spyng to the capitol. This borg had gravitated around Mr. Spyng as he moved between his meetings. Her distinctive voice was what gave Gwenn the recall of the woman. Such luck. “Are you in contact with Mr. Spyng, still?” she asked the woman, not to waste a valuable moment. “We have an important message to send in secret to Pi. We have to do this, then separate as quickly as possible so nobody sees us together.”

When the woman nodded, Mona bent over to remove something inside her slipper. When she stood up her hand was closed over a folded paper. She reached out to shake the cyborg’s hand. When the hand came down the message had been transferred to the other hand. “So nice to meet you,” she said. She turned to Gwenn. “Let’s catch up to the tour

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group, dear.”

They hurried their separate ways.

After that, the tour became a pleasant diversion. They found their group outside a shop and followed the thin young man wherever he wished to lead. As they walked together, Mona began telling stories of Wilfred Combs when he was very young. She referred to him as “my cousin,” to avoid letting anybody within earshot make a connection. She painted a portrait of a moody, talented, student of science and an avid recorded music collector. He had a secret talent for lyric writing. “Did he get any of them published?” Gwenn wondered.

“No,” Mona sighed. “Song lyrics are a dime a dozen in the wrong hands. No matter how good they are it takes a certain dedication to promotion my cousin lacked. He boxed them up eventually and gave up on writing. He did better for himself with his science.”

Gwenn found herself feeling closer to Mr. Combs now. She thanked Mona for telling about him. By the time Mona left Gwenn off at Miss Bloom’s house, the two had become fast friends. If they never again saw one another the friendship still would last.

She began watching the TV news each morning as she readied herself for school. For almost a week she trained her attention on the names making headlines. But there were no mentions at all of her father. Eventually, it had to be accepted; she felt she had failed. On her way into the classroom one morning, she was immediately met by Mr. Greenlow. He hurriedly ushered her back into the hall, which by this time had been emptied of personnel. “Don’t be alarmed, Gwenn. Mrs. Dabney asked me to send you to

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her as soon as you got here. I brought you out here to speak with you to take the opportunity to let you know how much I have enjoyed having you in the class. And I’m wishing you the best of luck in everything you are going to be doing.”

He put out his hand for her to shake. “Goodbye,” he said.

Gwenn shook Mr. Greenlow’s hand. “Is somebody from the government in the principle’s office?”

He nodded. “Bye.”

She told him goodbye and ran all the way to Mrs. Dabney’s office. She entered as quietly as she could. Two very official type persons waited in there. One was a woman wearing a tie and a grey shirt. Her partner was a man in a loose-fitting blue suit, who had grey in his hair and sported a neatly trimmed little mustache. Mrs. Dabney rushed to greet her but quickly faded to the back when the woman, Florence Knight, stepped up and began to speak.

“Miss Wrenn,” she said. “We’ve come to perhaps take you to your parents. They are on the verge of getting deported to the planet Pi, where they will live out the rest of their natural days. You can go with them or you can stay right here on Earth. The choice is solely up to you.”

There was injustice in a verdict that would forever banish the man who could help save both planets from extinction. But it was the best deal he would ever get. And, for her, there was no question she wanted to be with her family.

//////

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The rising sun made a bright flash, where its rays glanced off the seemingly endless white plain. Anyone venturing out of doors wore protective goggles until the orb moved higher and the danger to the eyes subsided. Gwenn had that passing pegged each morning at about six o’clock, though drifting slightly with Pi’s movement relative to the sun. She kept herself indoors until six-thirty, housekeeping for her parents, who always left earlier to keep the project on schedule. After which she walked her pets, two Labrador Retrievers, rescue dogs picked out and brought along by Mom, who could not bear living in a world where no dogs exist. They were Tatum and Pear. Tatum being male, all black, but for a white chest tuft. And Pear a golden female, also with such a tuft. They both were seven years old, still playful as pups.

The dogs loved the white surface ground for the smoothness of it allowed for top speed running. Gwenn ran with them, happily breathless when they all finished and came in. After a romp, the dogs drank water by the gallon.

Teams of construction workers had built small bungalows, setting up a temporary town powered by solar panels, provided with a water tower, fed from the stream by pumps and a pipeline. The water was remarkably clean. There were several hundred of the homes and there was a schoolhouse near the center. Gwenn had visited the school but in the end, she with her parents set up a homeschooling system. She did not feel enough integrated with the children and the system to have it otherwise.

There was a general store, offering its wares on a plot near the school, sometimes visited by Gwenn, who rode her new bike there to browse all the unfamiliar items on the

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shelves - and to get herself a treat. The clerk was a young borg, likely just out of school. He treated her with respect but also exhibited a great deal of reserve. She could not determine if the standoffishness derived from the fact she was an alien species or if he resented the predicament her people had inflicted on Pi. She smiled when taking her order and always thanked the clerk for his service. She hoped to eventually win his goodwill.

One early morning, while the dogs still were sleeping, shortly after the parents had left for work, she idly looked over the books neatly ensconced on the bookshelf, specifically at two copies of Pi World. She took one and made herself comfortable to begin reading it.

She began with the first sentence, despite the fact that she had read Page 1 in that failed earlier attempt. As before, so densely packed was the language, with long unfamiliar words and obscure scientific references, the girl found herself giving it up by page the second. She knew then that the key to understanding Pi would have to come in the form of a question and answer session, assuming her father would ever come home with a few weeks off for a rest period. She left the deeply padded chair to return the massive tome to its spot on the shelf. It was time anyway to take out Tatum and Pear.

As she tried to interest Pear in chasing a stick, she became aware that a drone was approaching and not headed for a landing pad. It came down in the drive right before her home. The pilot, a dapper soldier with a yellow cockscomb, stepped down and marched crisply over the white surface to meet the girl. “You are Miss Wrenn, are you not?”

Gwenn let him know he was not wrong, not sure if she ought to be suspicious. The

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pilot signaled two passengers to leave the drone. Gwenn observed a middle-aged couple helping each the other to reach the ground. The Mr. hovered until the Mrs. had fully gotten balanced, then they marched to stand beside the pilot. “Gwenn Wrenn, meet George and Emma Meekem. They are here to seek out information regarding their missing son. Since you were a close friend and actually disappeared also at the same time he did they suppose you might prove helpful in the quest to find the answers.”

The pilot stepped away but remained nearby for when the Meekems would choose to leave.

Emma’s approach was slow and painful to see. Her solemn demeanor could break the stoniest heart. For a long moment as she stood before Gwenn she knew not how to begin. Then, “Tyler told us about you,” she said. “He talked about you all the time. You clearly are the adventurous spirit he described. We miss him so much. If there is any way you could help us learn what happened to him -”

There nestled a teardrop at the corner of the woman‘s eye. Gwenn spoke softly. “Tyler is my best friend. He likely came to Pi since he is nowhere else, but I am just guessing. I‘m almost certain he tried to follow me.”

Mrs. Meekem said, “We sold our store to afford to come to look around for him. When we learned that you were still here we felt we had to find you first.”

Hers was a kindly manner. Her husband seemed a bit gruff but Gwenn could tell he was deeply concerned for Tyler. Gwenn told them they should wait until her father came home. He would be most likely to know how to start the search.

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The pilot informed the Meekems that there were still a few unoccupied bungalows to be had; he would be happy to escort them to number one fifty-one, where they could be comfortable as they waited for Dan to come home. To which they agreed.

After they and the drone went away, Gwenn struggled to apply herself to some school work. But prying persisting thoughts of Tyler made concentration fleeting until she gave up on trying. She found herself reconstructing in her mind his arrival here. Early on, he would have gone no further than he could have walked. He must have found refuge in some place. But, beyond that, did he even survive the catastrophe? It would be too terrible. She needed someone to talk with, so left her studies and went to get on her bike. She felt the Meekems would welcome some company, even if they had only recently left her. The note left by the door would explain it to her parents.

She worried Tyler’s folks might be enough exhausted from the trip as to need this time to recover. She shrugged off the thought and continued pedaling. As she turned onto the appropriate lane, beneath her bike, came a rough jolt, causing her to fall over. She was not hurt, but she lay still a bit, becoming increasingly concerned, for she felt a sensation as if the entire planet were the victim of a prolonged shudder that threatened to shake it apart. She could almost see Pi exploding, as she huddled on the ground with her face covered by her arm. The vibrating gradually eased into a barely perceptible trembling, which was to last almost a week, as it turned out. She could not know if the rocket structure had been test-fired, or if the journey to Mars were underway, or if Pi actually had begun to come apart.

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Bungalows had gone askew, but none were turned over or been broken apart. There was a scattering of people, shaken and nervous, all along the lane, come out for fear of their homes collapsing upon them. George and Emma stoically waited to see what the others were going to do next. When the others mostly went back indoors the Meekems were about to do the same. Emma’s side vision recognized Gwenn approaching on her bike and she tugged at George’s sleeve to alert him to look around. They greeted the girl with pleasure, encouraging her to come inside for a nice chat.

Loneliness had been the prime mover in the decision that sent her to these kind people. Her parents never came home other than to sleep a few hours. She could not as yet connect with the youngsters of the town. And here, like a gift, were lovely people from home with plenty of time to talk to her.

“I found these little boxes of cookies in the pantry,” said Emma, placing a dish full of them on the table. “And I am brewing some black English tea. I don’t know who thought to bring tea but I’m awfully glad they did.”

George slid some chairs up to the table and they all made themselves comfortable, nibbling the cookies, waiting on the tea to make.

“The rocket we came in is scheduled to head back in a week. It’s the last flight until after Pi gets joined with Mars. Since it takes nine months to get there, one way, according to the technicians, Emma and I should be here close to three years, I would think,” George speculated.

Gwenn wondered if the launch of Pi as a rocket in itself might cause that last flight

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to get scrubbed. She was pretty certain now that the recent jolt meant they were underway.

George could not offer an opinion. He knew the rocket crew could make correctional course changes but was uncertain if a changed point of launch might distort the calculations.

Emma, who had been staring into space, said, “I want my son.” The stare continued and George and Gwenn shifted their attention to her and Tyler.

Gwenn told them all she knew of what Tyler might have encountered on his arrival - just incrementally more than they knew before she spoke. They were grateful for any little tidbit. George poured and served the tea.

Gwenn hoped that perhaps one of her parents might break loose to help in a search for her friend. Pondering this the whole way on returning, she came in, to discover they both were home early.

“We got a break,” Mom gushed. “Because we launched. We are en route to Mars as we speak.”