Aliens Abroad

“God, Drax is really an artist, isn’t he?”

“He is. I never took my armor off,” Wruck said, as he put on another set. He flexed. “Normal movement is not impaired so far.” He reached for another ball, then stopped and looked at me. “We’re going right now, aren’t we? Without telling anyone, without saying good-bye.”

“We are. If I tell the others what we’re doing they’ll stop us. If I so much as look at Jeff or the kids I’m not going to be able to go. Because this is pretty much the definition of a suicide mission. But we all know it’s the only way.”

“I believe that it is,” Lilith said. “Otherwise, I would not have been called.”

Wruck nodded. “I agree with your mindset. I, too, would have . . . issues seeing the others and not being convinced to try another way.”

“Based on the population estimates for this system,” Mother said, “and adding the system Kitty has named the Clown Consortium—since the assumption is that it will be engulfed quickly—there are well over two billion lives hanging in the balance right now. Not to mention the fate of the entire galaxy.”

“Which is Mother’s way of saying there is no other way. Because if there were, she’d be telling us what it is. She’s made to protect; the Anti-Mother is her opposite. And the good of the many outweigh the good of the few.”

Wruck nodded. “Let’s do this.”





CHAPTER 82


AS SUPERBUN LET HIS now-internalized Cradi Moon Suit show, my music changed to “Metal Heart” by Garbage and I realized I’d forgotten something else—I’d been given a Moon Suit as a gift.

Went and got said Moon Suit. I already had body armor on and, just before I put the Moon Suit on over it, a thought occurred. “Lilith, I know you wanted to wait, but what if I get all this armor on and you can’t join with me?”

“It’s unlikely, but I understand the concern. And the time waste if that concern turns out to be reality is not in our best interests. Please be ready.”

Made sure I was standing with my feet flat and about shoulder width apart, which was a good thing. Lilith entered me and it was a shock, exhilarating and mind expanding.

I’d felt this before, when ACE had entered me, so long ago now. But with Lilith it was different. ACE had seen the Alpha Centauri and Solaris systems and he’d shown all that to me. Lilith had seen the entire galaxy by now, and seeing that in my mind, all in a few brief seconds, was pretty much the definition of mind-blowing. I never had and I never needed to use drugs—my life ensured that I got all the weird, out-of-body experiences naturally that anyone could hope to have.

Noted something as Lilith calmed down and settled in my mind. It was a little thing, and not relevant to the current situation. Decided I’d ask about it once we found out if I was asking on the living plane or the one where everyone seemed to go when they died.

It is good that you had me join you now, Lilith said in my head. Entering was slightly impaired by the armor. This is good—it gives us more of a chance of survival.

Great. Just, please, in the immortal words of Han Solo, never tell me the odds.

Realized I needed to do something first. Took off my body armor and ensured that my earbuds were tightly in my ear canals and my phone was in the back pocket of my jeans. Put my first set of body armor back on, put on a face mask—as Wruck had said, it felt fine and definitely more normal than the Moon Suit had the first time—then got into said Moon Suit. It was still weird, but I could breathe and see, though everything looked golden now. Phone wasn’t affected, and the song was now “According to Plan” by Augustana so clearly Algar approved. “Wish we had one of these for you, John.”

“I can actually create a Moon Suit while also adapting into a star surfer.”

“Yay, you’re amazing, and is that what the beings who go into the stars are called?”

“As you’d understand it, yes. They are few. They perform some kind of service for the star and the star powers them in return—a symbiotic relationship, at least as far as we know. Most stars don’t have a star surfer.”

“So, the star surfers are kind of like those little birds that clean hippo teeth? Only it’s just a few lucky hippos who get to have said little birds?”

He chuckled. “Yes, I suppose so.”

“How do you know them?”

“My wife and I ran across one once, long before I ever came to Earth. So long ago that I’d forgotten about the experience.” He looked sad.

“It hurts to remember your wife?” I asked gently.

“Sometimes. But she would agree with what we’re doing. And laugh at me for forgetting about the star surfer.” He smiled. “It was one of our better shared memories. But it was truly long ago—we were still what you’d call newlyweds.”

“What happened?”

“It’s a short story, really. When we met the star surfer, she was dying, stranded too far from a proper sun. We were able to help her find another before it was too late.”

“How could you forget something like that?”

He shrugged. “I’ve lived a long time and have done many things. Some memories are stronger than others, some need to be nudged out, some are gone forever. Fortunately, I did meet the star surfer and this memory was nudged out, or else I would have no way of knowing what to change into.”

“She could go into a star and also be with you and not, I don’t know, burn you guys up?”

“The star surfers aren’t made of flame. They’re made of what, for want of a better term, I think you’d call flame retardant.”

“It’s a freaking awesome galaxy, isn’t it?”

“It is. Which is why we’re doing this—so it continues to be so.”

Wruck and I put on layer after layer of body armor and face masks, continuing to make chitchat about anything other than what we were about to do, while DJ Algar spun a lot of sun songs like Lit’s “A Place in the Sun,” Two Door Cinema Club’s “Sun,” Everlast’s “Blinded By The Sun”—which meant I asked the Poofs to do us a solid and get us the darkest sunglasses possible, they delivered, and we put them on at around Layer Twenty—Primal Scream’s “Deep Hit of Morning Sun,” and Elton John’s “Don’t Let the Sun Go Down on Me.”

After about thirty layers, movement started to become impaired. At layer thirty-five and the soundtrack choice of Fountain of Wayne’s “Number 45 Sunblock” we both felt we were at maximum while still being able to move decently.

Put a bunch of armor and face masks on SuperBun and, once he said he was pretty much having to work hard to move his ears, we stopped. Then it was time to cover my purse—it was holding the trap, so it had to be hella protected, too.

We discussed whether or not we wanted to bring any of the metals the Cradi had given us along. None of us could come up with a good idea of what they’d do—other than melt, and that quickly—while inside the sun, so we voted no, and only kept the sphere from Cradus and Spehidon.

Realized we had no idea what the natives called this star.

Does it matter? Lilith asked.

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