THE HOLLOW PLANET

CHAPTER ONE



          The sun peeking through her window cautioned Gwenn to get on schedule. She appreciated that she would be slightly late this morning, as it had become the norm for her on these troubled days. It was so much harder to be motivated anymore. Nevertheless, she, a tall, wiry, kid, gulped some orange juice, ate a bite off a bagel, then took up her backpack and left out the door. Gwenn was ready to challenge the world one more time.         
          Dawn always came to the suburban neighborhood known as Sandburg, after sweeping over the mountains, across the woods and down into the valley where Sandburg nestled, snug and safe, seemingly; and then the daylight went beyond and burst over the city of tall buildings and early stirring traffic, continuing on its route around the globe. The homes of Sandburg were most of a century old, the citizens a mix of lifelong elderly residents and young families, come to escape stifling city life. 8123 Willow Green Street is where the Wrenns, Dan and Jenna, and Gwenn lived, until the adult Wrenns were gone and the child was persuaded to stay with elderly Velma Bloom, a few houses down.
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Gwenn agreed to assist Velma for board, because it kept her near her now empty home.
          Velma was a marvelous old woman. Her temper was even and she tried to keep active through long days of enforced inaction and no visitors. There were just a few drawbacks, for Gwenn, living here. There was one inescapable annoyance on leaving home for school: It was always seeing Wilfred Combs, her father’s associate, whom she despised. He would be spying at her from a tiny window, high up and across the street. And it happened every morning. Her pink bike with fat tires was never quick enough to outrun his prying eyes. Friends of Combs seemed always to be around, though none ever spoke to her or seemed aware of her at all, as she pedaled toward the campus. By the time the staid brick of the building marked her view she was into a different frame of mind. 
          Sandburg Middle School was for her quiet and dull, all but when she first arrived there. Without fail, every morning, by the time she tethered her bike in the rack, Tyler Meekem always roared up on his black racing bike, a shiny new thing, that had some noisemakers on the tires. “Hey, you hag,” he would invariably say, planting himself in her path. He would pull her hair, given the opportunity. Gwenn would shoulder her way by, muttering “You bully. Just you wait.”
          Being perpetually late, she always dropped into her seat a moment or two after the bell rang. Mr. Greenlow would frown, but never once did he say anything. She suspected he directed to her a bit of sympathy, without being overt about it. She did well in her studies and the homework she handed in was meticulous. Greenlow believed in well-organized recess periods, keeping the children fully occupied, with games, such as
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volleyball or basketball. The children were so thoroughly orchestrated, throughout the day, that their only time for socializing came with the noon lunch break. Gwenn’s two friends in that period were bus riders and so lived much too far away for after school fraternizing.
          The friends, Ophelia and Queen, were fond of asking questions about her private life and she shared a great deal with them. She had tried to clean up the tale of how Dad had passed away, but both girls had already heard the joking references to the incident from their own families, as it had been a big news item of the day. Both had been careful to not laugh in Gwenn’s face, which was lucky for them, friends or no, as they well knew from previous experiences. Today, the friends discussed boys and Gwenn mentioned how she detested Tyler Meekem. “Oh, I think he’s cute,” Queen protested.
          “He’s going to be less cute, once I take care of him,” she responded, angrily. She had the thought, I don’t enjoy fighting. Really don’t. Just - lately - it seems to be the thing to do.
          “But, he is being so nice, when I pass him in the hall,” Queen said.
          “He’s a jerk. He pulls my hair.” Gwenn self righteously retorted.
          “Well,” Queen said, conciliatory in tone, “I will be careful around him. I don’t really like him, anyway.”
          They mentioned other boys and, then, lunchtime ended and they returned to class. The remainder of school was business as usual. It was after the children were let out for the day, and Gwenn found herself in the same segment of the hall as Tyler, something
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noteworthy occurred.
          “Hey, you hag.”
          Those words were the first clue she had that her nemesis happened to be anywhere nearby. She tried keeping her head down and ignoring the taunt, but Tyler was not having it. He said, “What’s the idea, talking about me behind my back?”
          She tried to keep moving, but the tall, gangly, Tyler put a hand to her shoulder, from behind, and pushed. She instantly let her backpack drop to the floor and turned on her tormenter. Her advance, so sudden and so fierce, unnerved the boy. He quailed before the onslaught, as Gwenn punched him, two times, and landed a final body blow that sent him against the tiled wall. From there he crumpled to the tiled floor. “You’ll be sorry,” he whined, his face contorted and tearful.
          “Well - You had it coming.”
          Gwenn continued to hold out her fists and that is how the Principle, Mrs. Olive Dabney, found her moments later. She restrained Gwenn, holding her wrists, horrified. “Why are you rough-housing in here?” she demanded, looking repeatedly from one to the other.
          “He shoved me,” Gwenn shouted. “He is always bullying me.”
          She looked around for corroboration, but every student who had witnessed the fight’s beginning had gone their way and left the building.
          Still clutching Gwenn’s wrists, Mrs. Dabney said, “You are suspended, the two of you.”

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          And in short order, the disgraced students were ordered to keep away, until the next Monday. By the time they retrieved their bikes from the stand, they were the only students in sight. Tyler kept his distance and waited until Gwenn’s pink bike with the fat tires was well out of the way before moving in to pull out his racing bike. She looked around at the boy after she had the bike seat under her, preparatory to riding away. “You should not have shoved me,” she said quietly.
          Fiddling with his bike, Tyler muttered, barely audibly, “Shouldn’t talk behind my back.”
          Contrite, of a sudden, Gwenn told him, “I know. I’m sorry. But you pick on me, every single day and it makes me mad.”
          “I was talking to Queen,” he said. “She told me she likes me and we could be friends. I told her I like - you. That’s when she told me you were talking about me. I’m sorry. I just -”
          “You like me? Why do you pull my hair and call me a hag?”
          Tyler shrugged. “I don’t know.”
          She pushed on a pedal and coasted her bike near the still timorous boy. “Which direction do you live from here?”
          “I go up Pinedale Street,” he answered. “You live at 8123 Willow Green. I could ride along with you if you let me.”
          He bent over each bike wheel, disabling the noisemakers. Then he sat on the
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narrow seat, prepared to take off. He looked at her, quizzically. Disappointed at her lack of response, he pushed a pedal and was rolling, turning to his own route home.
          “I don’t mind,” Gwenn said hastily.
          He made a small circle, then came back to align his wheels with hers. They rode slowly, speaking as they traveled of small issues: things they like; how each spends their nonschool time; where they would like to be, come summer vacation. And then they came before Gwenn’s family home. “Here we are,” Tyler announced.
          “Except I don’t live here, just now,” she replied, sadly.
          “Sure you do. I have ridden by in my Dad’s car and have seen you there, lots of times,” he insisted. “You aren’t trying to fool me?”
          “This is where I grew up. But, when Dad was killed, they moved me a few doors down. I stay with Miss Bloom.”
          “Well,” the boy insisted further, “somebody is here. I see lights high in the attic window, when my Dad and I pass here, late nights.”
          Gwen said, frowning. “The house is supposed to be empty. Couldn’t you be mistaken?”
          “I know what I’ve been seeing,” he replied. “The light I see is generally behind the window near the end.”
          “Dad built a laboratory in there. He required solitude, he insisted, anytime I showed any interest. I’ve never even seen it. I wouldn’t want somebody else to be in there.”
          “You‘ve no idea who it is?” Tyler said’
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          “I intend to find out,” she stated flatly.
          Tyler said, “I wish I could stay longer. I have my chores to do before my Mom and Dad get home from their store.”
          “Okay,” Gwenn said, still frowning over the information she had received. They said a quick goodbye and he raced off at a dangerous pace, disappearing up the street in moments.
          She put away the bike and went inside to say “Hi” to Miss Bloom. The sweet woman greeted Gwenn with a smile and let her know there were cookies and milk in the kitchen. She was hungry. The cookies were oatmeal, with chocolate bits inside. Her favorite. She liked dunking them in the milk. As she finished off a last bite and wiped away dribbled milk, she found herself considering what to make of the light on at night in her father’s laboratory. If she hurried her homework, she might just have time to have a look in there for herself. She grabbed up her backpack and went to her room for a spell. When she came out she checked with Miss Bloom before going outside.
          In the gathering dusk, she ran down the sidewalk and hopped up the steps of her family‘s house. After managing the key she slipped inside, pushing the door to as quietly as possible. Having not thought to bring a flashlight, she went in the gloom to the stairs, confidently, because she had been there and up and down them all of her life. She was about to take a first step up when a light went on at the landing where the stairs made a turn. The spark of fear she first felt gave way to angry despair when the bulk of Wilfred Combs filled the aura from the bulb, and he slowly descended the stairs. He paused
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before the bristling youngster, blocking the way. His great body filled her vision with an authority that kept her from questioning its authenticity. “My dear child,” he said sternly, “the keeping of the house has been entrusted to me. I cannot allow even you to enter until the terms of my commission have been altered. Please turn around and leave without fussing. I will greatly appreciate the cooperation.”
          Gwenn was too disgusted to argue. She left and returned to Miss Bloom’s house, where hunger took over and she made up two nice salads, reheated last night’s soup, and they had their dinner. She was too upset to later sit with Miss Bloom as she usually did for at least an hour. After cleaning up the table and dishes she excused herself and took to her room with the book, Little Women, which she had nearly finished the night before. She sometimes fantasized herself as Jo in the novel, the strong, the tomboy, the best of the sisters. On this stressful evening, her thoughts and her emotions were melded at a level so deep that she merely stared at the page without seeing a thing. From that prolonged interlude, she emerged, with no notion of time, just gradually becoming aware and focusing on the book long enough to close it for tonight. As she did so she came to a conclusion that she would return to her home, despite Wilfred Combs, and climb those stairs this very night.
          She passed Miss Bloom, sitting contentedly in her chair, rocking and humming lightly over a ball of yarn, and slipped by her into the dark evening. Sure enough, there was a light in Dad’s window. She tried for a moment to understand what kind of hold Combs had had on her Dad, but nothing added up. She supposed that one day she would
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find out, but for now, getting inside was the single issue to consider. This time, she came back inside the house carrying a tiny flashlight.
          She ascended the steps, slowly, cautiously, getting by the midway landing, enough to conclude, based on the slant of light at the top, that Dad’s door hung open. Pausing to watch the light, to listen for the slightest noise, feeling fear in the pit of her stomach, she barely could breathe.
          Fully ten minutes passed before the precious girl felt she could move again. Resolutely she came up near the top before something happened in the laboratory. It was a scurrying sound, of movement behind the door and then it slammed shut. That action set Gwenn in motion. She rushed her father‘s door, suddenly enraged that she might once again be denied.
           Unable to make the knob turn, she began to pound and shout: “I’m Gwenn Wrenn and I live here. This is my house. Open this door.”
          She assaulted the impassive portal for several minutes until exhaustion made her quit. Defeat, combined with grief, overwhelming her will to move, whether to go or remain, caused the child to wilt to her knees. She wept, moaning, wondering why her family had been swept away, like so much trash.
          In the end, Gwenn had to leave there, but she vowed to return as many times as it took to get some proper answers.
          The following morning, she awakened more than a few minutes late, wan and tired. She sipped milk then worked shelling a boiled egg. As she stuffed the egg into her mouth, THE HOLLOW PLANET - CHAPTER ONE                                                                   10

in three bites, she was making up new plans to get inside her home, despite the roadblocks being placed by the hated Mr. Combs. After eating, she said, “Goodbye, Miss Bloom. Do you need anything?”
          “No, dear,” Miss Bloom replied, likely thinking Gwenn was on her way to school, for Gwenn had withheld the information of her suspension, wishing to prevent the dear from worrying about her.
          Gwen hugged Miss Bloom, putting her cheek to hers and then bounced out to carry through with her plans. It was a surprise of big proportions when she discovered Tyler Meekem near the house, sitting on his bike, propping himself up by one foot. “I hoped you would come out,” he said. “It gets lonely being at home by myself all the time.”
          It was a nice surprise, Gwenn decided. She approached his posing self, going slowly, in a manner she considered ladylike. “Do you want to just hang around and talk, or would you rather take a short ride?” she said.
          “Talk, I guess.” He swung his other foot over and pushed the bike away from the street. He propped it up with the kickstand. “I wasn’t sure if you would like seeing me again since I got you suspended.”
          “It was both our fault,” she answered simply. “So,” she went on, “Your parents have a store?”
          “It’s a small one. They can’t afford to hire any help. They have to work it themselves and that’s why I am home alone so often.”
          Gwenn privately thought perhaps hurt and resentment from being neglected might
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have had a triggering effect that made him pick on her every morning. Not that she was educated enough or old enough to know such a thing for sure.
          “I don’t have anyone my age near my street,” she said. “Listen. Are you able to keep some secrets if I tell you some?”
          Tyler looked as though he were beginning to second think his presence here this morning. “I don’t think I know you well enough for that,” he stammered.
          She laughed at him. “Silly. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I am trying to get into Dad’s laboratory. They won’t let me in. I plan to keep on trying until I find out what Mr. Combs is doing in there.”
          “That’s your secret?” Tyler looked relieved. “But it’s your house. Why won’t he let you go in?”
          Gwenn thought that her new friend was beginning to crave the answer also.
          “Yesterday, after school, Mr. Combs blocked my way and told me he was in charge. Last night I went back. I got all the way to the door but somebody slammed it in my face. No matter how I beat on it and hollered, they paid me no mind.”
          “That’s pretty rotten. I wish I was big enough to make them let you in.” Tyler was angry for her. “It‘s your house.”
          Gwenn had her arms crossed and she was thinking hard. “But there may be a way you can help me get in, if we can just think of something.”
          “Well,” he said, “if I went in first and got them to chase me, maybe that would leave the way clear for you.”
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She brightened, for a moment. But, became solemn, thinking ahead. “That might work. Except, if it’s Mr. Combs he won’t run. He’s not built for running. Instead, he will block the way.”
          Tyler was not ready to give up. “But we have to get him out of there. What if I told him a story? Gave him a reason to leave?”
          She had a sudden inspiration. “It’s a dirty trick,” she said, half under her breath.
          “What? What’s a dirty trick?” Tyler said. “Tell me.”
          “You run up there, all scared, out of breath. You tell old Mr. Combs I was run over by a bus, riding my bike.” She laughed, remembering how that man laughed while telling her about Dad.
          “That is a dirty trick,” he replied.
          “Maybe it is. Let me tell you how he reported Dad’s death to me.”
          She led Tyler to the garden, where the youngsters sat on a white bench, beside a bed of pale blue flowers, where they could watch a few birds flitting about in the shrubs, where the increasingly intense sun’s rays were blocked.
          Her gaze centered on her folded hands as she organized her thoughts. The girl spoke quietly, but raw emotion seethed like an angry river beneath her words, transporting them with force, against Tyler‘s ears.
          “School was just over and I came straight home. I was putting away my bike when a shadow behind me made me aware a large person was approaching. I felt something darker than the shadow pass through me, even before I turned. Mr. Combs had come to
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stand over me and I was a little frightened. I could read pity in his solemn eyes and grimly pursed mouth. We had never spoken before because he always went straight to Dad’s laboratory without looking about. I am sure he was friendly with my Mom because she was often Dad‘s helper. I just wanted to slip past him and avoid the grimness. ’My dear,’ he began, ’I am extremely sad; it is my duty to inform you of the death of your father.’
          “But he didn’t seem truly sad, even as he attempted to squeeze out a tear.
          “’The way he died,’ he said, ‘was an accident that could have easily been avoided. As you know, your father had a way of becoming oblivious to all else, when having certain deep conversations. He was clumsy besides. He - Dan - had been walking beside me, on Elm Street, and we were discussing a secret project, when he stepped off the curb, right in front of a pizza delivery truck. He was thrown by the force of the crash onto the display trampoline before Fun World. Your father sank with the canvass and on the rebound got flung from there into a bounce house and he was slammed from floor to ceiling, repeatedly, (here the pompous man’s composure cracked and he nearly smiled. After that the remainder of the narration produced in his diaphragm repeated upheavals that almost broke free in the form of uncontrolled laughter) until the trajectory sent him onto the roof of the same truck that struck him in the first place. Then he slid off and went down an open manhole. Extreme rains from the night before had caused a vortex within the sewer tunnel, that washed his body completely away.’ By this, the final, point of the narration, Combs produced a tissue to wipe at his eyes. He said in conclusion, ‘His last uttered word was, ‘Oops.’’ And then he tried to hide his face.
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          “I felt a sudden rage that caused me to kick his shin. Then I ran away to escape his awful presence.
          “I had never liked Mr. Combs in the first place. Now, I detested him. I hid whenever I even suspected he might come around. But, on being moved from my own home, to live with Velma Bloom, it actually placed me nearer the man than before. I often confided in the darkness, to no one at all, the often recurring fear, that it could be this same vile being who had caused my mother to vanish, weeks earlier. It was a fear which I had whispered to Dad, on several occasions, but he always smiled and said, affirmatively, ‘Wilfred is our friend.’
          “I always quieted from accusing the man, in deference to my Dad. But nothing I saw or heard lessened that fear.  One day it occurred to me to ask of myself the question, ‘Do you think Mr. Combs gave Dad a push off the curb?’ And I answered myself, ‘Maybe.’
          “It was a shock to be so thinking, and a revelation I could not deny. Because I knew there never could be proof, I tried to dismiss it as a notion, but it became a truth that was lodged deeply in my heart. And I now believed my parents both were murdered, that Mr. Combs is the culprit.”
          On hearing the story, Tyler conceded, “He deserves this prank.”
          “I know. Now, look. After I hide near the porch, all you have to do is tell him, and once he gets down the street, you can give him the truth and run, or, just take off without saying a word. Then get on your bike and go home.” She stared at her friend, expectantly.
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“How about it?”
          It was obvious Tyler entertained second thoughts. He said he was trying to think of something else. After almost ten minutes, he made up his mind.  He breathed deeply before speaking. “Go find your place to hide,” he said resignedly.
          Gwenn felt she could easily hug her friend. “Thank you,” she cried gratefully.
          After pushing the key into his hand, she slipped away and hid near the porch. Crouching, listening, she could not be certain what Tyler was doing, until his feet scuffed on the porch. At first, he pounded on the door and waited. He pounded a second time. She heard the key striking near the keyhole, but the door was opened, at that point. She could hear the voice of Wilfred Combs. “Who are you? Can I help you?”
          “Oh, Mr. Combs. My friend, Gwenn sent me. She fell off her bike when a truck brushed too close. She can’t get up off the street. She said only you could help.”
          “Oh, my. Yes. Go on and lead the way.”
          Gwenn heard Tyler’s quick steps and his feet descending the steps. Then the door slammed behind him. Tyler’s feet quit moving. “Hey,” he shouted.
          He ran back to again pound on the door. At that point, one of the unnamed minions swept a branch aside and stared down at poor Gwenn. He shook his head at her and then waited for her to move away from the house. Seeing Gwenn’s plight, Tyler joined her and they walked back to his parked bike.
          Gwenn did not feel defeated at all. She merely needed a better plan. “Come with me to get a drink,” she said. “I will introduce you to Miss Bloom.”
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          She challenged Tyler and they raced to the door. Gwenn pushed into the home, with her friend at her heels. Inside the staid old room, she halted, on finding Miss Bloom napping in her chair. Gwenn removed a teacup from the dear lady’s lap. She motioned to Tyler to come back outside. They pedaled to the sandwich shop a few streets over, to buy sodas. Then, balancing on their bikes, taking drinks, the friends made a picture no one in their school could ever have composed, in the wildest of schemes. The friends simply rode, after that, for nearly two hours, circling the same blocks, endlessly.
          The days of suspension were days of bonding, for likely lifelong friends. She met him every day, and, though getting inside her house was the predominant topic for discussion, they got to know one another’s habits, their likes, and fears.
          On Monday, when Gwenn slipped her bike into the rack, she heard a voice behind her. “Hey, you -”
          Tyler blocked her path, the way he always had in the past. This time he smiled, as he finished the sentence. “-nice person.”
          The black bike’s noisemakers had not been re-activated, thus allowing him to approach, unheard. “May I walk you to class?”
          “Don’t be silly,” Gwenn replied. “We are late, as usual. There is no time for that.”
          From the other side of the door glass, as they approached, Ophelia’s face was visibly shocked to see the two walking up together, matching steps, talking civilly together. Later, at lunch break, she asked Gwenn about it and Queen looked on with narrowed eyes, jealously. “We are friends, now,” Gwenn said, dismissively.
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          Ophelia gave Queen a few furtive looks and she continued to question about Tyler, until Queen said, “Oh - Talk about something else.”
          So they talked about the coming summer break until it became time to return to the classroom.
          A short time later, as she sat listening to Mr. Greenlow speak on behalf of endangered monarch butterflies, a sudden thought pushed all other considerations out of her mind. She knew exactly how to get into Dad’s study. It was so simple, she berated herself because she had not already considered it. She hoped Tyler would want to ride home beside her after school. She idly daydreamed, until Mr. Greenlow gave her a stern look, before asking her to repeat a few of the facts the class had been going over. She admitted she could not. “You normally are a very good student,” he said. “I’m not penalizing you, this time. Incidentally, the homework you handed in last was outstanding.”








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CHAPTER TWO

        Respect for her teacher had Gwenn concentrating very hard for the time remaining but she was first out the door when the bell sounded. She had the pink bike out and stood beside it, waiting for Tyler to come. She saw Queen and Ophelia marching to the bus line, giving her dirty stares. She stood proudly, pretending to ignore until they were eclipsed by the building. When at last Tyler showed himself, he was parting company with some friends who also were bus riders. After that, his eyes were for her only.
          “Tyler, you’ve got to come with me. I know how to get inside my house. Dad constantly moved lots of stuff into his attic. He never did allow me in there, but he had some kind of secret project he was working on. He told me it was dangerous.”
          “Somebody up there may be carrying on his work,” said Tyler. “Now I want in just to see what that is.”
          “Wait. Listen. The basement has a garage in it, so parts for his projects could be brought in by truck.”
         “But that makes it a lot farther to carry it.”
          “Dad had a special dumbwaiter built, to get it straight up there, with no carrying at all.”
          “What,” said Tyler, “is a dumbwaiter?”

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          She explained that it was an elevator that could lift items all the way into the attic. “And it’s big enough to ride in.”
          “Well I’m ready to go,” Tyler said.
          He rode in a great circle and came to a stop at her side.
          They were a little reckless while getting there, causing one car to swerve and another to honk a warning. When they arrived at Gwenn’s temporary home, they put their bikes near the house and then walked to the Wrenn’s house. Gwenn’s key was a master key. It unlocked the outside doors, including the one for the garage. Gwenn was cautious, ushering Tyler in. “I never was allowed to go in here,” she said. “So I think that is why I didn’t remember to try it before.”
          They went past Dad’s car that gleamed even in the dim light they traveled by. Gwenn produced her small flashlight and lighted their way to the dumbwaiter at the center of the wall, behind the car. It was big and it was rugged and its cabinet was open for loading or boarding. Tyler removed from its deck a wooden box that held some small electric parts, to make the space comfortable for riding in. They would have to go up, one at a time. “Who goes first?” he said.
          “Me, of course. If somebody is at the top they wouldn’t know you. Then, it could get dangerous.”
          He stepped back. She was right, of course. Except - “It could get dangerous for you since they don’t want you there.”
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          But Gwenn was all smiles. Climbing easily in, she crouched and reached out to push the top button. “If I don’t send it back down,“ she instructed, “wait about three minutes from now and press the bottom button. Or, if you are smart, run.”
          The button got pressed and the dumbwaiter began its ascent through a long dark shaft. It lumbered slowly and smoothly and it passed an opening on the second floor before continuing on and coming to rest inside the attic. She sat still after it stopped, listening for any activity around Dad’s project. Finally, she climbed out of the box and sent it back down. She waited for Tyler. After a few minutes his ride became still at the top and he scrambled out. Their eyes swept the room beyond the unloading dock. He looked to Gwenn for guidance.
          The space before them was empty but for a long sliding door that must open into the lab. As they passed through they saw and studied her father’s project in silence for a bit. Tyler finally asked. “What do you think it is?”
          In the middle of the floor was a chamber that could lock airtight, with smooth surfaces all around and a circular port at the rear center. But for the port and a control pad, the chamber was empty. Adjoining the structure was a computer, with a fifty-nine-inch monitor. Inside the screen, they saw tiny depictions of beings, moving, on a strange city’s street. They looked almost human, but were a bit distorted.  On the shelf, in front of the computer keyboard, lay a loose-leaf volume, bearing the title, “Pi Planet.”
          Gwenn grabbed it up and opened it. “That’s the title of the novel my dad wrote,” she said, opening the cover to have a look.
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          What she held was a book of scientific equations and long technical paragraphs that made no sense to her at all. But, there were some words at the beginning that told everything she needed to know. She dropped the book and studied the monitor in earnest, now that she knew what she was expected to see. “It’s - It’s - real. He’s created an entire world and we are viewing it in there.”
          “If this real,” Tyler, cried, amazed - “Then that chamber could be a transport between there and here.” 
          They stared at one another, with widening comprehension. The fictional world of Pi had become real. Gwenn knew almost instantly she just had to enter her Dad’s world. Impulsively she went into the chamber and activated the mechanism that shut it tight. There was a touch screen, with instructions. All she had to do was move the screen image with a finger and punch the green go button.
          “No,” Tyler was pleading, watching her manipulate the screen and reach for the button. “Don’t do that.”
          At the same instant, as she was reaching for the button, she saw Wilfred Combs come into the room, using his authoritative voice to say, “Here. Who’s in here?”
          As Combs’ eyes discovered Gwenn inside the transport chamber, her finger touched the button and she went topsy turvy and her vision sent spinning. In a short instant her feet were on the street she had seen in the monitor. She fully expected Mr. Combs to appear beside her, to bring her home, until she realized that his first priority would have to be the removal of Tyler from the laboratory - Thus, giving minutes to hide,
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for it was all but certain he would come for her. So she thought. As she surveyed the buildings, there appeared a row of restaurants down a cross street. Her steps carried her midway down that block before she made the decision to go inside an establishment. She only now caught close up views of the natives and was shocked to discover they were a race of Birdpeople, for all had beaks on their faces and many had overt bird features on the arms, legs, feet, and rear ends. Feeling timid, she entered the restaurant.
          This eatery was aged and dingy, but it appeared to be clean, with extremely high walls. She found herself ducking, when a flying, low swooping woman, who had long, black, somewhat angelic wings and straight black hair, passed too near. Her face wore what might be described as a falcon’s beak. Her feathered legs ended in boot shod feet. She came down to Gwenn’s table and smiled, holding her order tablet and a pencil. “What will it be, sweetie?” she asked.
          “What are your sandwiches like?”
          “We have pulled prok and BLQ, hot. Then there are cold cuts.”
          “What’s a prok?” Gwenn wondered aloud.
          The woman placed her hands on her hips and gave the youngster a wondering stare. “It’s the animal, barbequed, and the meat torn to shreds, with a pickle on a bun.”
          “Maybe I will try a BLQ, instead,” she timorously replied.
          She shyly huddled, in wondering silence, as the waitress fluttered here and there and other patrons with beaks waited to receive their food or were already eating theirs. When her BLQ came, she felt somewhat squeamish as she lifted the bun a bit, to see what
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she had actually asked for. There was an odd tomato, a chunk of lettuce and a flat slab of unidentifiable meat. She ate it anyway. Her offer to pay, using United States currency, was met by confusion, then forgiven. “Can’t refuse a hungry child,” the cashier said.
          As she went back on the street, Gwenn heard a train whistle. She recalled that Dad’s novel had begun with a train ride to ‘Pythonville.’ She wondered if she ought to go to Pythonville. It was too bad that she had read just the first couple of pages and likely never was to know.
          She had no time to think it through before a large man in charcoal grey accosted her. “You must be their child: Gwenn.” he said.
          She regarded the man warily. “How did you know my name?”
          This one had no bird traits. His eyes were like black liquid, but for a penetrating gleam emanating at the center. “Come with me, ma’am.”
          He appeared in Gwenn’s estimation to be a kind of cyborg; certainly not a natural human person. He made her walk to a vehicle that was parked directly on the sidewalk.
Gwenn wished more than anything in the world that she had read her Dad’s book. Her age was the excuse: that his usage of language had made many passages too hard to understand; she had to choose between deciphering the book and keeping up with her schoolwork. She thought, now, that she could have managed it, somehow.
          Escorted into the vehicle, which proved to be an SUV size drone, Gwenn began to panic. Once she left this locale, her chance of returning to Earth would seem much less certain. She did not want to finish out her life in this strange place.
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          It was an official vehicle the man forced her into, judged by the insignia painted on the sides. Inside were a borg driver and two more borgs, dressed in the same gray as the first borg.  The first borg took his seat next to the driver, who immediately caused the vessel to lift off. The drone danced upon the air, following signals that sent it beyond this little burg, to a village of tall stone buildings, with the gloom of age all over the spires and roofs. The drone swooshed down a narrow lane, all the way to a final structure, before settling on the street paving. When the first man exited with Gwenn the vehicle instantly took off, as though it were called to another mission.
          Everything about the brooding stone building they approached fed her fear, rendering her incapable of resistance. The foyer that they entered was dark; they moved on to the dim light of a hallway, the floor of which made the shoes on their feet click at every step. They continued through the whole older building, until they reached a brand new door that opened to an obviously recently added wing. Gwenn was ushered inside a room that greatly resembled Dad’s room in his attic. The chamber was a virtual copy, with the accompanying computer and monitor.
          The man, it turned out, had a name. He said he was Issak Spyng. And he truly was a cyborg. Along with being a scientist, he was also head of the government. He explained how he had gotten his knowledge of Earth when Gwenn’s mother appeared on the street; a strange new species. He had extracted from Jenna knowledge of Dan Wrenn‘s science. Crucial elements were missing. “What do you know about these things?” he said, indicating the contraption before them. “It’s a portal to your space and it’s about eight-
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tenths completed. I have been able to access the technology, just to that point.”
          Her reply, tinged with sarcasm, was an indicator her self confidence was returning. “I’m a kid. I don’t work on these things.”
          Spyng’s eyes merely smoldered, now. He nodded sympathetically. “But your parents do. I will be open with you. I have means to extract all you know, about this project or any other thing, from the day you were born. At my discretion. You are a child. I don’t want to hurt you. Tell me all you can, about the science involved here.”
          She folded her arms and looked away from Spyng and the contraption. “I can’t help you. I wouldn’t if I could.”
          Spyng tried playing on her sympathy. “Your father created our world, simply because he could. We exist, now, but at some point it is his intent to abort this work. He knew how to bring us into the real dimension, where your universe resides, but stopped short when he could have taken the final step. Unless I get the secret, the choice is yours and of people like you, whether my world is to live or die.”
          Moments later, Isaak Spyng seemed to be somewhat regretful, when he said, “What you are telling me about yourself is probably the truth. Unfortunately, there may rest in your subconscious clues picked up from your parents that even you could be unaware of.” He advanced on the girl, his movement calculated to herd her toward another door. “We can’t take your word. We will have to extract the clues, assuming such exist.”
          Gwenn began to guess what had actually been the fate of her parents and she began to guess the same was about to be done to her. She could not allow herself to be pushed
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into that room. She had seen, among a number of objects, a metal rod, leaning in a corner. Catching her captor off guard, she went for the rod and grabbed it up. She wielded the rod, like a baseball player in the ninth inning, with the winning runs on base. “If you try to do that to me, this entire project will get beaten into rubble.”
          “Be logical,” the cyborg said. “If you swing that instrument, I will capture you, whatever the consequences, and you will be tossed in a pen of animals that resemble a cross of alligator and rat. A voracious creature, that will tear you to shreds as you are dying.”
          Gwenn held her ground. “I owe my parents and the world. Leave me. Go out through that door alone, if you value this project at all.”
          Spyng’s eyes flared. They gleamed brightly as he stared and considered the options. In the end, he must have considered it a worthwhile trade; the precious project in exchange for temporary freedom for this child, who likely knew nothing helpful anyway. He retreated through the same doorway he would have forced her through, closing it behind him.
          Gwenn instantly went back into the old part of the house. Instead of dashing out to the street to run, as Spyng surely expected of her, she began to search the rooms along the hall for a good hiding place. The first room she encountered was bare, but for an empty shelf high on the wall. The second door opened into an occupied space. She found herself confronted by a woman, one of the Birdpeople. The woman was stout; an obviously long time hard worker. Seeing such a girl ducking in a side door that way possibly stirred her
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maternal concern. “Here, child. What are you doing in here?”
          Gwenn pushed the door to, before replying, “I escaped. I’m looking for a place to hide.”
          The woman hunkered down, as though under attack from an unseen force. She stared at the girl while a gamut of emotions crossed her face. “If I let you stay here, and we are discovered - I can’t do it.”
          “But it’s too late for me to pick another place. What am I going to do?”
          The woman reconsidered a moment. Hers was obviously a compassionate nature, which gave her pause to seek options. “I am just staff here; cleaning and general maintenance,” she said. “But, my experience makes me know this old house better than anybody. Come. Follow me.”
          She led Gwenn through another door that let them into a separate, very narrow, hallway, which had been designed to keep the domestics hidden and out of the way, in most circumstances. At the end was a door to the outside. “Now, if you choose to leave, go right ahead. There are trees and a river to your right. If you prefer to wait right here, I can give you a ride to my neighborhood and you can spend some time waiting on the borgs to give up looking.”
          “You are very kind,” Gwenn began -
          “I have tasks. We can talk later.”
          The woman hurried back to her work.
          Gwenn was no longer certain that a read of Dad’s book would have done her much
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good, as the characters she had thus far met appeared to be in the act of rebelling against his narrative. If they were to succeed in spilling over into the real world, she had no way of knowing the outcome, or what the final objective might be. She began to see it as her duty to thwart that aim by whatever means necessary, at the cost of her life, even. She made up her mind to accompany this woman, to rest, to gain time. But she would be coming back here with sabotage in mind.
          She found some clean packing material against a wall and settled herself upon it, to wait. Inactivity and exhaustion robbed her of consciousness, until, later, when her benefactor awakened her. “Come,” the woman said. “I have a better place you can rest.”
          It was already beyond the dusk when they seated themselves in the woman’s tattered seats and her battered drone struggled above the street. “What’s your name, child? I’m Clara Borng. You don’t look like other Pi people.”
          “That’s because I’m from the Earth. I’m Gwenn Wrenn, daughter of Dan and Jenna Wrenn.”
          Gwenn’s parents’ names lit a lamp in Clara‘s eyes. “I hear those names around the lab, where the borgs spend all of their working time. Those names are important, though I don’t know just why.” She was silent a long moment, looking to be debating herself and losing the argument. “Dear, I do know something,” she admitted. “I can tell you where they have hidden your mother. My sister is a nurse where she is staying.”
          “For real?”
          “Instead of going home I am taking you there right now.”

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          They neared the edge of the village and came upon clusters of ramshackle homes. “Welcome to my borough,” Clara announced. “It is home for just Birdpeople, but the medical complex we control here is shared by the cyborgs because they recognize that Birdpeople are the finest of physicians.”
          Most of the parking spaces were clear, which made it possible to place the vehicle near the entrance. Clara urged Gwenn to follow her, as she climbed out and went toward the building. They approached the woman at the desk, where Clara was known for coming to visit with her sister. They were allowed to pass. “She is in a private room,” Clara said softly.
          Gwenn scarcely dared believe her mother could be in such a place. Yet, based on all she had been through in just a few short hours, she prepared herself to be at least semi pleasantly surprised.
          The room they entered was practically identical to any Earth-based hospital room. In the bed, a partially sheet-covered woman lay with her face turned to the window. Her hair was the correct color, if much shorter than Mother’s, likely due to the nurses keeping it cut. She and Clara reached out to the woman and coaxed her to face in their direction. By this time, Gwenn already knew. She had found her mother.
          Jenna’s listless stare straight ahead was disturbing. Gwenn tenderly kissed her cheek. “Hi, Mom,” she whispered.
          But for some slow breathing, Jenna budged not at all. Gwenn stared into the eyes
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for a long moment. And a remarkable thing happened. Two great teardrops formed in those eyes and they rolled down, to soak in the pillow. Gwenn kissed her again and said, “I will come and save you, Mom. I promise you.”
          Jenna’s face seemed less haggard after that. Gwenn’s exhaustion and her inability to formulate anything she could further do, made her have to leave, for now. She gave Mom a little smile and a hug, before she turned away, to go with Clara.
          “You would have been treated like her if you hadn‘t gotten away” Clara observed.
          The girl knew it was so. She tossed a grateful look at her benefactor, hoping no ill would come to her for these selfless actions.
          They rode down the next street to a row of buildings with darkened fronts and few lights burning inside. These structures were old, with much of the original architecture replaced by scrap lumber or simply boarded over. “I can feed you corn and potatoes, tonight,” Clara remarked, as they pulled in at her home.
          “Real corn? Real potatoes? I thought maybe Earth’s food was unknown, here,” said Gwenn.
          Clara’s indulgent smile was evident despite the beak for a mouth. Inside her home, they met an elderly Birdpeople male, who had been waiting, concerned that Clara was late. “This is my father, Dana. Pop, this is Gwenn. She will be staying here, for a time.”
          Pop nodded, vigorously, while his entire body rocked in his chair. “Welcome. Welcome,” he cried, enthusiastically.
          His beak was somewhat twisted. The whites of his eyes were bloodshot and there
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were great bags beneath them. “Welcome. Welcome,” he said again.
          “Why don’t you rest in my soft chair, and I can get dinner together,” Clara suggested.
          “Thank you,” she said.
          “Welcome. Welcome,” Pop repeated.
          Gwenn slept the night through, after dinner, in a bed full of soft feathers. Clara had lent her a long shirt to sleep in. In the morning, as she was dressing, there resounded a knocking at the door. Clara met a person who babbled quickly that their fighters had lost a battle and were driven back to the river. Then the person was gone. Gwenn figured him to be a news crier, such as places on Earth once had before there was electricity.
          Clara gravely approached the girl, to see if she wanted breakfast. “I heard him, at the door,” Gwenn said.
          “Yes,” Clara acknowledged. “There is an army, of rebel Birdpeople, at war with the borgs. It‘s grim. I don‘t know if the Birdpeople can hold out much longer.”
          They ate and later Clara allowed Gwenn, at her insistence, to return to the borgs’ house. “Remember, not me nor anybody else can help you if you get caught in there.”
          This morning there was an entire committee of borgs, bustling here and there, greatly excited. until Gwenn concluded that they had made some kind of breakthrough. She hid in the service areas and while she waited around all day, it became clear to her that she would need to remain inside the building this coming night to do her work of sabotage.
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          An hour into the wait, Clara came to her, obviously crushed. Her arms dangled limply and the sponge she had been using dropped to the floor. She hugged Gwenn and the girl felt a hot cheek against hers as copious tears wet her face. “Our army was destroyed. That’s why they are celebrating,” the poor woman moaned.
          At that moment, a door was flung open and Issak Spyng presented himself. His eyes went at first to Clara, but in surprise lighted on Gwenn. “I came to offer condolences. After all, we are not animals. But, on seeing that you have been harboring this girl, I have become less sympathetic. You are discharged from your service here. I will not make a charge against you, since you were, previous to this, a loyal employee. Begone, Clara Borng.”
          Clara, bowed and broken in spirit, made herself absent, in a matter of moments. The borg eyed the cowering girl, his eyes flashing sparks out of the blackness. “Come to me, child.”
          But Gwenn cowered against a cabinet, unwilling to cooperate. Spyng visibly softened as the borg came slowly forward and she began to sense his intent was not to harm her. “I have considered your position in this drama. I no longer believe your information is relevant to our research. I extend to you the offer of a personal armistice. I admire you. I would, in fact, take you into my protection.”
          Gwenn defiantly confronted Spyng, saying, “After what you have done to my mother, I will never be your friend.”
          “I can arrange to get her back to your world. Our transfer unit works very well now.
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It‘s partly the reason why I can make such an offer.”
          “If you could accomplish that, I will do anything you say.” Gwenn did not trust the man, but she was willing to take any chance to rescue Mom.
          “Good. Come with me.” He went the way he had come, not looking back to see if she followed.
















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CHAPTER THREE

          They were next inside a command center, where she listened, as Spyng telephoned a more distant center and issued detailed orders to pick up and move Jenna Wrenn, to be returned to Earth. When he had finished, he sent Gwenn into a waiting room and asked her to sit until he could finish some duties.
          She obediently sat back and stared at a wall, until, eventually, Spyng returned. “I have a conference in the capital city. Because I haven’t the time to provide for you, as yet, we are going together.”
          He had brought in a suitcase, which he handed to her, explaining that it held clothing and personal items young girls need, put together by a young Birdpeople girl. She thanked him and together they went to his drone and took to the sky.
          The capital city was much larger than Gwenn would have envisioned. Laid out in square blocks, with free public streetcars and few drones allowed. The buildings were marble palaces, with long flights of stairs, with shining golden roofs. Borg pedestrians
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were everyplace and the streetcars all filled with passengers. A few Birdpeople could be seen, but they appeared to have paths to walk outside the general traffic. At the center of the city sprawled the grandest building of them all. To the side of the stairs were escalators. Gwenn stayed very close to Spyng for fear of getting swept away by the crowd.
          She was caused to sit on benches in hallways, as Spyng went from meeting to meeting. When he came from the final conference room, another borg exited with him. “We have selected the men to go with you,” the man was saying. “So, you will be ready in three days?”
          “That we will, my friend. So, excuse me now, I have duties to see to and must be getting home.”
          On the ride back, Spyng explained to Gwenn that she could be back home, very soon. “A few colleagues and I have something we need to do in your world. There is no reason I shouldn’t take you along and drop you off. Contingent on your agreeing to silence, for the Earthlings cannot know of our presence at all. I believe in you. I believe if you make a promise, you intend to keep it.”
          “I have to know what it is I am agreeing to. All of it,” she replied stalwartly.
          “My mission will cause Pi to move into your reality. Two worlds, living side by side. You could not deny us a right to survive, could you?”
          She was more than just skeptical. “What if it doesn’t work? What if something terrible were to happen?”
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          “There is an element of risk,” Spyng admitted. “It is remotely possible one world could dislodge the other one. Or, both could be sent spinning away, with no orbit. But, if successful, Pi and Earth would be chasing one another in the same orbit.”
          Gwenn’s concern had been expanding. It now blew out of all proportion. She felt sympathy for Pi, but even the slightest risk to the existence of Earth would not be a worthy risk to take. “No,” she said. “I don’t promise that.”
          The borg regarded Gwenn in silence, staring for several long moments. “Thank you,” he said. “When we get back, I will put you back in Clara’s keeping. You will be her child from now on.”
          The return trip seemed shorter, as return trips will. Riding in silence, Spyng drove finally into the Birdpeople neighborhood. After he knocked with his hard fist they waited until cautious Clara decided to open the door a crack. “Yes?” she said, sounding faint-hearted and fearful.
          “Ms. Borng,” Spyng said, “may I prevail upon you to take Gwenn into your keeping? Aside from the fact that I can’t allow her to undermine my activities, I am a bachelor. There is no place for one such as she in my home.”
          Clara absorbed the words and her spirit visibly lifted at the sight of the sweet youngster waiting to come in. “Oh, thank you, good sir. That’s so kind of you.”
          The Birdwoman spread her arms and said, “Come in, child. Have you eaten?”
          Spyng smiled and turned away, his demeanor that of declaring moral parity. He heard Gwenn’s “Thank you” without turning or pausing.
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          Clara bustled. “Have you eaten? I can put a meal on the table.”
          The woman busied herself and sent Gwenn to the comfortable chair that was near to where Clara’s Pop perpetually ensconced himself. The elder Borng appeared to smile, behind his beak and he greeted her thusly: “Welcome. Welcome.”
          After some minutes of quietly sitting she idly picked up a magazine to leaf through. It was the just off the press edition of “Roosting, the Chickenpeople’s Bible for Troubled Times.” Among long tiny print articles were dozens of photos, many war-related. The troops in these pages were depicted as high morale, though struggling, after the collapse of the war effort. Her sharp eye discovered, deep in a crowd of beaked fighters, one who was unbeaked and who wore a long beard. She studied the image with intensity. Her shock at the resemblance between the man and Dad slowly transformed to joy and certainty. It was him. Dad was alive. She leaped up, smiling through her tears.
          She brought the magazine, to show Clara. Clara reached for her glasses as Gwenn pushed the photograph to her. “See?” the girl said. “See this man.”
          Clara studied the photo. “Yes, I recognize him. He is known to us as Professor General. The borgs captured him, recently. You have good eyes, to pick him from a photo like that. Come in and eat.”
          Gwenn felt she had fitted all the puzzle pieces together now. Mr. Spyng had misled her, by not mentioning her father. He obviously had taken the missing information from her unwilling Dad and now possessed all of the science needed to put Pi into the real universe.
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          Poor Dad. Likely took Mom’s place in the Birdpeople hospital, unable to get up; unable to speak, if alive at all. She explained to Clara just who Professor General actually was. She begged her to help find him tomorrow. 
          “Well,” the older woman answered. “I have lots of time, now that I‘m jobless, so we’ll go have a try.”
          Gwenn went to bed early that night. She had no doubt her father was about to be found and so had no trouble resting. Her eyes popped open before the dawn. She lay in bed, waiting for the day to catch up. The instant she heard Clara stirring, she leaped to the floor and began dressing. She pressed the poor woman to the point of being more than annoying.
          When finally they left for the hospital, Clara was at her wit’s end. She actually was shaking and her waddle flopped about incessantly. Gwenn apologized and begged the woman to drive carefully. Soon the flustered woman managed to get the vehicle safely parked. She cautioned Gwenn to not get her hopes up so high. There was no guarantee that Dan was in this hospital or that he could be found, even if he was in there.
          The nurse was unsettled by the questions. “I don‘t have any information,” she said. “Wait here and I will ask the head nurse.”
          Fully ten minutes elapsed before she came back. She sat quietly in her chair and looked down at a notepad that was blank. After a few more minutes, the head of the hospital, Doctor Lenk Joad, shambled in, looking like a great molting turkey. He shook himself the way Gwenn had seen a few turkeys ruffle their own feathers and then he
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addressed her: “Gwenn Wrenn?” he said.
          She told him it was indeed she and boldly stated that she knew her Dad was almost certainly hospitalized here.
          “Wait here,”  Doctor Joad instructed her.
          Joad talked on his phone, in a nearly muted voice, and then he came back, the wearer of a hardened attitude. “I have been instructed to send you away. If such a person were here, it would be a state secret and you would not be told. Consider yourself banned from these confines. Good day, Miss Wrenn.” 
          The hospital head walked away on his awkward legs, with his shoulders rounded and his head slumped and a slight grunt with each step. He went behind a great door that had a tiny window glass in it. Gwenn ran to the door to peep through the glass.
          “Now, see here,” the nurse cried sharply. “You’ve got to get away and leave the hospital, immediately.”
          Her chubby cheeks and tiny beak gave her a cartoonish air, but Gwenn and Clara knew she was not fooling. Gwenn backed away and she and Clara quickly went outside to descend the steps to the sidewalk below. Gwenn turned her face to look at all the windows in the great building, all but certain Dad was in a bed behind one of them. She looked into Clara’s sympathetic eyes and said, “Don’t a few of your neighbors fly on wings that are attached to their bodies?”
          “Oh, my,” the older woman said, troubled. “What are you planning?”
          Gwenn’s smile was grim, determined.
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          “Look,” Clara remonstrated, “if you could get inside his room, you could never lift him out and get him away. No flying Birdpeople are able to perform a feat such as that.”
          Clara stalked away toward the drone.
          Gwenn had no choice, except to follow her. When they got back and went inside Clara’s house, they had visitors waiting to see them.
          Clara simply stopped and stared, wordlessly. She looked to Gwenn, to see if the girl knew any of them. She did. She recognized the shape and the clothing before she laid eyes on his face. For the first time ever, she was happy to recognize Wilfred Combs.
          Combs, with a contingent of six men, waited in the TV room, listening to Dana’s incessant, “Welcome. Welcome,” until they heard the door open. Combs simply stared at Gwenn. She stared back.
          It was with mixed emotions she regarded this man. She had long believed the worst of him, yet she knew he must be here as a part of her Dad’s team, seeking to find and take him home. He approached, now, with no sign of rancor. He, in fact, managed a little smile. “Thanks to you, we’ve safely recovered your mother. I have not been able to get a lead on the whereabouts of your father.”
          Gwenn spoke out, defiantly. “You made me think Dad was dead. You kept me out of my own house.”
          “Sorry,” he said.
          “You made him ridiculous when you made me think he died.”
          “Ah, well. I made the tale of your father’s demise ridiculous because I wanted you
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to believe at some level I was lying to you. I failed and instead succeeded in alienating you.”
          Combs brushed at his thinning scalp and paced the floor a few steps.
          “Why did you want me to think that?” Gwenn demanded to know. “I had the right to the truth.”
          Combs sighed. He looked away, ashamed. “Because,” he said, “the scientific community came near to extinguishing the whole project, even though Dan and Jenna had gone out of sight, in Pi.”
          Gwenn was incredulous. “You mean -? Extinguish them both, along with Pi?”
          “It was that peccadillo of yours that made them start to change their mind,” Combs said. “They could not accept blame for the loss of an entire family. When your mother was returned to us, we decided to look for you and your father.”
          “You should have extinguished the project when you had the chance,” She replied. “Do you know about a droid, named Issak Spyng? He said that his scientists have made it inevitable that very soon, this entire dimension will spill out into the real world.”
          “He told you?”
          “He did.”
          “Then we can’t waste another minute. We have to get back to the other side and make this made-up world vanish.”
          “But not without my Dad,” Gwenn protested.
          “There is no more time to look for him,” Combs insisted.
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          For the second time in their history together, the girl kicked Combs’ ankle. The force was strong. The man went down. She ran around his bulk and was out the door before the six men with Combs thought to react. “She’s just a kid. Stop her,” Combs bellowed.
          But what a kid she was. Gwenn’s long slim legs rapidly carried her beyond the back side of the house and into the low roofed thorn forest, where a taller person had no hope of moving quickly. The forest was not a wide one and she soon came out in a soft green meadow, an experience that might be pleasant, under another circumstance. Coming up from a hole, through a trap door, was a white animal, with red eyes and razor-sharp teeth. It came at the terrified girl and it rolled over on its back, whimpering. She felt there was no time for a diversion such as this, but she simply had to give it a tummy rub. From that point on, the little beast ran beside her, until she left the meadow and approached what appeared to be a barracks. Having no way of knowing who might be housed within, Gwenn nevertheless felt she had to present herself to those persons.
          The white animal loped off as Gwenn timidly approached the rough-hewn door and tested to see if it would open. It groaned on rusty hinges, alerting a roomful of cyborgs to pause and look around. The frightened girl stood before them, shaking, fearing the worst.
          An imposing borg, wearing an overly decorated uniform, was Dom Casper. He demanded to know who she was. “Why have you come here?”
          “I am Gwenn Wrenn. I need help to get my father out of here before it is too late. This entire world is soon to vanish.”
          Dom Casper frowned, incredulously. “This world is all there is. Where did you
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think you could escape to?”
          What Gwenn had assumed to be general knowledge in the world of Pi was not necessarily widely known. This she understood only now. She became frantic. “Pi is slated to get erased,” she said -
          At that instant, they were jolted off their feet. There began a fundamental shift of Pi, that had everything moving and shaking. Freestanding items were swaying and toppling. They could feel the planet’s crust sliding as if the very rocks had transformed into a liquid. “Earthquake,” a borg shouted in terror.
          The girl knew better than that. Issak Spyng had succeeded in breaking open the barrier separating the two realities of Earth and Pi. This work of fiction was on its way to turning into permanent reality, sliding across the boundary, grinding its mass into the Earth, with untold consequences.
           Gwenn scrambled on her hands and feet, getting outside of the collapsing barracks and began running and falling and running again. At one point a water tower came crashing down beside her, making a waterfall that washed Gwenn away, for a good thirty feet.
          After at last finding the street again, staying mainly to the center, Gwenn was able to fight her way toward the hospital. A whole forest accompanied by random buildings soared high overhead with Gwenn looking in vain for a place to hide. She beheld the Earth, looming too huge for the mind to comprehend, quickly receding in the sky, with all the sun sparkled blue water and a visible landmass the shape of North America. The C
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battling atmospheres of the two planets created windstorms that incited further damage, but Gwenn’s little square on Pi escaped further destruction, although the whole planet continued to vibrate and thunder for the longest time. She never knew what happened to the soldiers of the barracks.
          Miraculously, the hospital escaped destruction. Gwenn struggled up the steps. 
          The inside remained mostly intact and the Birdpeople all were hiding. Behind the admissions desk, she located one such person and was able to learn from the terrified woman in which room Dad was located. Her attempt at getting across the floor to the stairway made her look like a drunk in a storm-driven ship. The attempt was ended by a falling portion of light fixture that clipped the side of her head and sent her spinning, unconscious, across the room. She went down for the duration between some piles of debris that actually shielded her from further pelting by flying small objects.
          It is necessary to stand back at a long distance if one is to gain a true perspective of this, the genesis of the two worlds’ interwoven history: Pi invading the real universe, skimming the face of planet Earth, crust against crust. Where they made contact, great chunks of Pi were torn loose, falling on Earth‘s ocean. Scared out of their wits were the humans, witnessing an entire world, materializing in their midst, from nothing. Their own planet experiencing the greatest trauma, since the asteroid that ended the reign of dinosaurs.
          And the entity of Pi was born, and it slipped into orbit, to follow Earth around the sun. It was a disheveled mess, with a super major loss of lives and property. Cyborgs and
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Birdpeople were thrown together by mutual necessity and they mostly joined together for protection.
          Damage to the Earth, while extensive, would require less effort to repair. One great question concerned the new islands, with alien inhabitants. The greater mass of one among these nearly equaled the size of Japan. Warships ringed those bastions of Pi citizens, to ensure none of them escaped beyond the shores. Delegations at first visited on both sides. Then the fear among humans grew to irrational proportions, inspiring many to demand that the aliens be obliterated by bombs. Saner minds held them off. As the big island restored infrastructure, communications between the sides improved. The aliens made it known they were fully capable of defending themselves, as advanced weapons systems had survived the event, intact, which stirred the pot of fear, even among so-called saner minds.
          As for our young Gwenn, the compassionate Birdpeople who made up the hospital staff, could not abandon their posts. Once the event came to its end, they continued to care for and receive new patients. Gwenn they discovered and placed her awakening self in a comfortable bed. An unbandaged bruise on her head proved to be sensitive to the touch, but otherwise not hurting. She felt well, with the resiliency of the young, and ravenous. She slipped off of the bed and went exploring for a cafeteria or other food source.
          She found a bird-faced nurse’s aid pushing a cart of dinners for patients. “Where can I get one of those?” she inquired.

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          “The kitchen cooks for the patients,” she replied. “But, the emergency situation we are under tells me we should share. Follow the blue line on the floor. It will take you to the kitchen.”
          “Can you tell me the whereabouts of Dan Wrenn?”
          The Whole staff apparently believed all institutional rules to be suspended by the extraordinary nature of the catastrophe they experienced. She needed just a moment to consider, before presenting a detailed instruction of how to find the man. Gwenn thanked her with all her heart, before proceeding on the way.
          The workers in the kitchen gave her a generous sandwich; with it a glassful of a sort of tea. She stood beside a counter, eating, watching the staff clean up the kitchen. So much dedication, when they had no way of knowing how their homes and families fared in what they considered a great earthquake. Her thank you was lost in the din of their dedication.
          The room she sought, after she finished eating, was down a series of corridors, through a door with no marking. It was a vanilla hospital room that her efforts led her into. Sure enough, she found her father on the bed. He was on his side, face to the wall. When she said, “Dad?’ tapping him on the shoulder, he stirred, somewhat, to show he was awake. When finally Dan turned over, his eyes were without purpose, without a soul, even. He stared without blinking. Gwenn threw herself at him, holding his face, kissing his forehead repeatedly. “Don’t you recognize me?” she pleaded.
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          She lay down beside him for such a long time, she finally nodded off. Her sleeping may have gone on for ten minutes or an hour; there was no way of knowing. She snapped wide awake when her father said, in a tone clear as a bell, “Gwenn? Is it you? I thought I just dreamed about you, before.”
          She lifted her head and looked in his face. “Dad? Are you all right?”
          “My mind is clear, now. It’s just that this cyborg, this Spyng fellow put such a truth vaccine in my backside. I have lain here like a yam in foil ever since. I am afraid they milked me for every bit of information I ever learned.”
          “Dad? I have a nit to pick with you.” In a voice loudly accusatory, she demanded of him, “Why did you have them make me think you were dead?”
          Dad seemed to be seeking a hole in which to crawl. Finding none, he decided to talk. “Not all decisions were mine,” he replied weakly. “When we first brought Pi into existence and came up with a way to physically go there, there was some argument as to who would take that chance. After nearly two months of struggle, I prevailed, with my argument that, since it was created from my book, I would have the best chance of success visiting there. Mom feared for my well being. She feared enough to secretly take my place, an hour before my departure had been set. But she quickly disappeared, without a trace. Wilfred and the rest of the team refused me permission to follow after her. It’s a top-secret project. No one could know. When finally I convinced the others to let me go, the world had to believe I was dead, to avoid public exposure of my work.”
          “It’s not a secret, now,” Gwenn stated quietly.
          “How did you get here?” Dad said, suddenly realizing his daughter ought not to
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even have a notion of his project; yet, she was here.
          Gwenn explained what happened and how she became a friend to Issak Spyng - Most importantly, explaining that Mom had been rescued and sent back home. “Mr. Spyng has succeeded in opening up the barrier between Earth and his planet,” she said. “Pi is as permanent in the real universe as is the Earth.”
          Dad tried to sit up but fell back. “How do you know?”
          “It just happened while ago. Both planets grinding together until Pi spun off into space. You must have slept through it. Mr. Combs was here and he was trying to get back home to terminate the Pi project. He didn’t have time to make it. Gee, Dad; you must have been really out. It was like this whole world had an earthquake, a tornado, and a hurricane mixed into one that lasted for hours. I was knocked out and missed lots of it, myself.”
          “Help me sit up,” Dad said. “I think if I can get moving I may recover more quickly.”
          After a few tries, Dad was able to get his feet on the floor. “Move that chair - the heavy one - closer,” he instructed.
          Gwenn did so and Dad was able to grab the back of it and pull as his legs strained to set him on his feet. At first he was just able to drape his upper self over the back of the chair, but in time, he pushed away and stood up straight. In triumph he looked around, and was ready to get going.
          “What are we going to do, Daddy? How will we get back to our own world?”
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          “First things first,” came the reply. “Just because the cyborgs set the program in motion is no proof it was successful.”
          “I saw the Earth hurled into the sky, like a giant ball. It was as if it were thrown in a colossal game of catch. All that‘s missing is a giant dog,” Gwenn said. “It was gone quicker than you’d imagine.”
          Dad had to find himself a place to sit down again. “It was due to me that Spyng was successful,” he lamented.
          Gwenn was quick to defend her Dad. “No. You would have prevented it if you could.”
          Dad gave her a wry grin. “It was my mind that conceived this place. It was my science that gave it life.” Emotion overtook him. He hid his face to block out the tears from his daughter’s view. “I came in here to look for your Mom. I had to hide from Spyng and ended in the Birdpeople’s ranks of soldiers. But they caught me. They tied me down. The mind-sweeping drugs they administered gave the borgs the key to understanding all of my science.”
          After a brief interval, Dad looked up. “Now, I’ve got you to rescue.”
          Dad launched himself to his feet, promptly tripping over a bedpan. He caught himself by grabbing a privacy curtain. He tried to regain his footing - until the curtain gave way and he and it made a heap in the middle of the floor.
          “Come on, Dad,” scolded Gwenn, as she pulled away a flap of curtain that had draped itself across his upper torso and head. “The longer we stay here, the more likely
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the droids are to capture you again.”
          The unfortunate man extricated himself from the curtain and quickly went into the hall, then toward the hospital exit. Gwenn took long strides, barely keeping up. Outside, they were met with an incredible scene of destruction. More buildings were reduced to rubble than stood. Birdpeople flocked around in total shock. The fleeing earthlings passed them by without getting noticed. Dad surveyed the scene from the middle of a great intersection. He selected a direction and went off again. “Dad,” Gwenn worried, “do you know where you are going?”
          He continued his quick walking. “I designed this place,” he replied.
          “Oh, yeah.” Despite their desperate situation, Gwenn exulted, because both her parents were alive. She was so proud and excited, to walk beside this great man, who knew where he was going.
          Dad told her that on a normal day, they would be hiding and sneaking. It was his hope that the awful destruction would make the borgs too busy to care about him any more.
          “They have what they want. Why would they care anymore?” Gwenn puzzled.
          “They fear I might come up with a way to put the genie back inside the bottle,” he explained. “Since I have yet to come up with such a formula, they will want to head me off before I can even get started.”
          “But what are we to do, now?” Gwenn said, as she and her father looked for a way around some fallen trees. “Where are we going?”
          It quickly became evident that they must go over the trees, or else retreat and seek
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another route altogether. Dad fended a few lesser of the heavy limbs and hauled himself onto a great trunk. He extended a hand to help his daughter up and as she gained her footing and they looked to surmount the next obstacle, he said,” There is a facility that builds rockets, both for peaceful and wartime usage. We are going to steal one.”
          The child’s pride in her father expanded, if at all possible, as she hoped he would always be there for her. They pushed through the limbs and over the bulk of trees, before finally coming down on the other side, where the buckled street presented a new test of will and endurance. Dad’s habit of engrossing himself so deeply in conversation caused him to become oblivious and bump into things and fall down inclines and holes. Yet he persevered and eventually the complex they sought loomed into view.
          “There,” he told Gwenn, “I see a gaped portion of fence that we can crawl through. I believe the borgs ought to be busy with their humanitarian crisis and so ought not to be concerned about the security of this place.”
          Gwen dutifully followed in his footsteps moving through the damaged fence to hide behind a hangar. It began to seem to the girl that slipping around like this and hiding had become her life. She yearned for it to be ended.
          Within moments they began to hear voices and they hunkered down, to wait until after the workers had left for the night. “Persons without families, who were persuaded to work on,” Dad muttered. “Let us hope they haven’t a night watchman.”


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CHAPTER FOUR

          As the daylight began to wane and the noisy crew bade one another good night, Dad began to poke his head out and then to expose his person before the hangar. When nothing stirred, he became bold, going inside the buildings, examining the rockets he found. At last, he turned to Gwenn, who had trailed him faithfully, the entire time.   
          He assessed the facts for his dear daughter, voice being grave, as the situation boded for disaster; he did not wish to mislead her. “They have been using rockets to visit their moon, which didn’t survive the transition. But it’s hopeless for us. None of these rockets is capable of breaking free of the planet’s gravity. Our one hope is to locate Mister Spyng and hope he will be charitable to the humans that are trapped here.”
          “Will he be able to get us home, Dad?”
          He shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he said.
          Gwenn, with her hands on her hips, looked around at the darkened rocket grounds, then toward the damaged fence. “Well, what are we going to do, now?”
          “See if we can get into the lounge. We might sleep there and then surrender to these
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rocket technicians. They should be able to get us to Spyng’s headquarters.” Dad stoically set his feet for the low building at the end, holding his daughter’s hand as he went. She sometimes felt it was she, leading Dad, when they walked together like that.
          “You know, Mr. Spyng really likes me,” she said. “He sort of reminds me of you without being clumsy.” (Dad’s accidents were so frequent and unavoidable that he no longer felt embarrassed when people made note of them. It was a frequent topic between father and daughter, which he did not mind at all.)
          “Ah,” Dad said, turning in sudden revelation to her as he stopped in his tracks. “I understand about him, now. I unconsciously put myself in my book, only as a strong man, lithe and not clumsy. I made him smart. Don’t you see, sweetheart? Mr. Spyng was the fictional me. As such, he could not stop himself from liking you. It’s what saved you.”
          She smiled, a bit confused for a moment, but then the meaning of Dad’s words fell into place. Now they made perfect sense to her and she believed him. “That must be why I like him so much, too,” she said. “I don’t understand why he could do what he did to Mom, though.”
          “Well,” Dad replied; “when the fate of the entire planet with everybody living on it depends on one person, he is going to make that decision, invariably. That he allowed her to survive has to be a plus for him.”
          The lounge had picture windows and a glass door. As they were hoping, it was unlocked. There was a kitchen. They raided the pantry after discovering the refrigerator to be dangerously warm. Tins of fish, biscuits, and packaged cakes made a fine dinner.
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Gwenn finished off two tins and a biscuit on her own. She marveled at the sweet cake for dessert, as it was so delicious without making her feel overly full.
          There was a half-circle couch in the big room, long enough to allow each to take opposing ends, there to sleep comfortably. Full, exhausted, comfortable, they went right off into deep, satisfying, sleep.
          Dad had not fully recovered; therefore sleeping beyond Gwenn’s rising was the natural thing to do. She sat up, quietly, allowing him to rest, wondering what the coming hours would hold. She rather looked forward to meeting Issak Spyng, once more. She was certain that if anything could be done, he would do it. Her appetite was stirring, but she waited to eat with Dad. When at last the night began retreating before the dawn, she gave in and lightly placed a hand on his shoulder. Dad instantly came awake and sat up. He looked chipper. “Good morning, sweetheart. How do you feel this morning?”
          They found some breakfast from the pantry and soon after the ingesting of it went into the morning air, to await the arrival of the morning work crew. She somehow felt the droids were about to be friendly, even though the ones she had been meeting, since her first escape had not been particularly nice. They had barely drawn the first deep breaths of the day, when army-clad groups of men came at them from both directions. Birdpeople, as it turned out.
          Two leaders solemnly approached, one looking grey and owlish, the other somewhat comically resembling a crane. “Are you Daniel Wrenn?” the grey leader asked in a dignified but screechy voice.
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Dad stood as straight as they and spoke in equally solemn tones. “I am,” he replied. “If you think I am a deserter, I left my post at Pythonville because captured by cyborgs. Their treatment of me put me in the hospital. My daughter came and rescued me, yester evening.”
          “I am Lt. Joes,” said the grey one. “Bound by duty to tell you these truths: The war is over. Birdpeople and cyborgs have already formed a union, in the interest of restoring near universal damage and saving lives.  Your position within the Army has been terminated. In dishonor. We,” he indicated with an arm gesture the group of men assembled, “have been sent to assist in the rebuilding of this facility. It is my misfortune to have discovered your presence here. I must arrest you, for you are charged by a commission of this Union of the Combined Peoples of Pi, the new government they have formed.”
          “But I came here as a friend. I can’t help if your stupid war got in my way,” Dad protested. “You possibly don’t know just yet that I created Pi in a mere novel to be read. And, then, when I discovered certain mathematical principles I felt compelled to make you all real.”
          “The Commission has ruled that all was stable, if not perfect, in the time before you appeared.” Joes summoned a dozen troops. All produced rifles as they stepped forward to reinforce the words of the lieutenant. Joes spoke into his radio. As he clapped the radio case closed, he informed Dad that he and Gwenn would shortly be transported to the White Nothing Plain, where the worst prisoners were taken, to be abandoned, with no transportation, food or water. “But, where is Issak Spyng? How is it they could form a
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new government without him?“
          Joes spoke with emotion, for he had admired Spyng, even when opposing him. “Gone. Likely dead. Of the great chunks torn away from the surface, he went with one, along with all his lieutenants.”
          The officer walked away. Dad started to protest, until the soldiers moved forward, with their weapons at the ready. Gwenn was outraged that they would so disrespect the best Dad that ever stumbled over his own feet and yet still managed to create practically a new universe. She stalked into the midst of these louts and told them so, in no uncertain terms.
          The warriors seemed uncertain whether to be angry or to laugh at her. In the end, they prodded the man and his daughter to a landing pad that Gwenn thought looked like a helicopter pad. It was not long before a black spot in the far sky became a whirring drone as big as a small bus. It was piloted by a droid, who dropped it to the tarmac, as gently as a mother lets down her baby into the softness of a cradle. It was of an oval bug shape, with seats enough to haul a dozen troops. Gwenn and her dad were forced inside and seated next to the hatch, which opened on the side. Four soldiers with weapons joined them. After they settled in, the pilot put the vessel in the air. Then they zoomed away at an incredible speed.
          Gwenn watched the landscape slipping by below. They passed many gaping holes and eruptions, where Pie and the Earth had clashed. She had no way of knowing some torn out chunks had formed islands in the oceans of Earth. The event had been a near-total catastrophe for both worlds. Of a sudden, she caught a glimpse of the great expanse
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ahead and instantly knew they were approaching The White Nothing Plain. Her heart fluttered when she beheld the vast panorama, where, literally, nothing existed, save a white surface of indeterminate make up and consistency. The drone carried them perhaps fifty miles, before settling on the windless dry surface. Dad began to argue with the soldiers, with the pilot in particular. “You can’t leave my Gwenn out here. I will happily serve my sentence here. But, she’s an innocent child.”
          All the while, Gwenn secretly wished Dad would quit the argument. She had no intent to leave him out here alone.  When at last they found themselves pushed out and fallen to the ground, she rejoiced that her Dad would not face the ordeal without her. She jumped up and said, “Let’s go, Dad. We’ve got lots of hiking to do.”
          Dad. Lifting his head, looked helplessly, hopelessly, around. “Well,” he said at last, “I guess we’ve got to try.”
          He sat up and marveled at his daughter’s spirit. Tears sprung to his eyes, just knowing he had not protected her. “Come here, sweetheart. Let us try to think this thing through.”
          She returned from where she had wandered and sprawled before him, intent on listening. She fully believed he would find within himself the means for rescuing them.
          “I have no idea how far from sustenance and shelter we may be,” he began. “We know not to walk in the direction from which we came. I am for continuing in the line that pilot set and hoping we may come upon something that may save us. What do you think? Are we going to beat this fix?”
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          “Let’s go, Dad, while we are strong and full of spirit.”
          He gave her a foolish look. “Yes. Yes, of course.”
          They walked the seeming endless sheet of white until exhausted. Still they walked. Such was the nature of the land they could not guess whether it was day or night. Eventually, they had to lie and rest. Gwenn fell into a deep sleep, dreaming of drifting through whiteness, until, hours later, she awakened to look into Dad’s anxious face. He was next to tears. “What’s wrong, Daddy?”
          Choking back his grief, he said, “I have been trying to wake you for almost half of an hour. I began to worry you were not coming back.”
          She sat up, feeling once again strong. “I will always come back to you, Dad. Just as you came back to me.”
          Dad‘s tears mixed with gentle smiling. “I have to tell you. I had visitors in my sleep. I could not see them; there was heavy fog. It’s my interpretation that, because I created this planet, the visitors have to be from my imagination or in some otherwise have an affinity for me. I cannot recall the words precisely. But they made me aware that a way underground exists, where there is at least water. If I believe it we just must make a sharp jog to the right and go until the white is erupted as though broken loose by an earthquake. The gap will reveal a tunnel.”
          As she rose up once again, Gwenn discovered her legs were a bit sore. She was not so strong as she had thought herself to be. But she could walk on. First, she had to wait until Dad put on his shoes before off they went in search of the mysterious tunnel.
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          As Gwenn was beginning to understand for the first time what it is to experience dehydration and to feel herself slowing down, she noted with admiration how Dad was digging in for the long haul. He looked sideways at her and said, “Are you going to be okay? I could let you ride piggyback.”
          She waved him off. “I’m fine. I can do this. Don’t worry about me, Dad.”
          Over an hour later, she went to her knees. As she went down she just faintly could hear Dad shouting with jubilation. “It’s here. It’s real and it’s here.”
          There was that eruption of white, with Dad staring down inside where it gaped, a gap one could easily disappear inside of. As he turned to see what was up with Gwenn, a slab of white material gave way beneath his feet and he plummeted into the hole.
          The sound of Dad’s surprised yell infused Gwenn with renewed energy. She scurried across the ground without fully getting to her feet, until she was gawking down the gash, listening for a sound from Dad or any other sort of noise. She stared hopelessly into the hole, more frightened than she had been in her entire life. Then, like a miracle, faintly carried yells filtered to her ears. It was Dad. He was telling her to jump.
          So implicit was her trust in her father, she immediately crouched for leaping. Without the slightest hesitation, she launched herself into the unknown.
          The words, “Curiouser and curiouser,” were in her head as she went far down a chute with so gradual an incline she barely noticed it curving at first and touching her. Soon it bore the full of her weight, bringing her down at a slower then slower rate until she felt safe and comfortable riding all the way to the bottom. The chute sent her to a
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deck that served as a platform and a choice between three further chutes to continue the ascent. Dad was on hand to greet her.
          “Dad, what is this?”
          “I am looking for clues,” he said. “Right now, it’s more important to get to the water. So I think we ought to take that right tunnel and keep going down.”
          Gwenn went toward the tunnel, but paused, to ask. “Why that one? They are all the same, to me.”
          “I can’t say, except the same feeling I had when I received the information to come here suggests that particular one.” He paused, ready to jump. “I will go first. If I made a bad choice I will try to warn you.”
          She did not like what she was hearing. “What then, if you made a wrong choice?”
          “Then it’s up to you to choose another tunnel.”
          Before she could object, Dad went down the chute.
          By the time they did three such trips they arrived at a plateau, that had a stream running through the middle. As they bent to cup water with their hands to drink, Dad cautioned Gwenn to drink just a little, at first. After they had drunk and rested a bit, Dad stood with his hands at his hips, looking the landscape over. “I don’t recognize this water, but I am beginning to realize something. The look and pattern of what we have experienced, so far, down here, looks amazingly like the game I played on the game console about the time you were a baby. I was obsessed with that game. If that’s so, the whole planet might be basically hollow, because, on the scope of what we have seen, the
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game would fill a space about that size.”
          Gwenn was skeptical. “But how is that at all possible?”
          Dad adjusted imaginary glasses on his face, cleared his throat, and continued in a professor’s demeanor, “I began to consider something, during our last minutes on that plain on which we had been stranded. You see, the entire planet is modeled after my book. But the narrative focused just on plot-related material. Except. My mental processes intruded during the construction of the programs that brought Pi into existence. The white plain exists because the book failed to describe that portion. And the game popped in because the programs read my mind. If I am not mistaken, the entire core of Pi is hollow, but for the gigantic parts that make up the game I played.”
          Gwenn was fascinated. She didn’t know if she could believe a tale so fantastic. Except, Dad knew what was what. If he said it, she began making up her mind, it absolutely was so. “What are we going to do now?” she wondered aloud.
          “Well, we have a source of water and food with the stream,” Dad was figuring. “I want to do some exploring and at the same time do some more calculations before we move on.”
          “But what then? How are we going to get out of here?”
          Dad brushed a lock of hair away from his daughter’s eyes. “If we follow upstream, we are sure to find the water source. Since there is no water on the white plain, we shall have gotten beyond it. After that, we will be obliged to go before the Commission to deliver a talk. Time is of the essence, but I have to make certain of certain conclusions
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already coming to me.”
          “I know you already have the answers in mind. You’re just looking to confirm what you already think.”
          Dad regarded her with a mix of sad expressions. “I think,” he said, “ that the entire core of Pi is hollow. That it cannot withstand the stress it will be put under by nature and will come apart at any time. I don’t have enough information to predict when. Suffice to say, I don’t see how it can hold for more than a year or so. This new world is already doomed.”
          He chucked under her chin. “Cheer up. Perhaps we can persuade the rocket enterprises of Earth to spare one of their Mars rockets that now routinely make round trips to pick us up and send us home.”
          Gwenn felt momentarily relieved at the prospect. Just as quickly she plunged into gloom when she realized the population of Pi would be killed. “But, Dad; what about the cyborgs and Birdpeople? Are they all to die?”
          Dad looked at her, mysteriously. “Not necessarily,” he replied. “But that’s enough of speculation for now. I must get to work.”
          He wandered off, leaving Gwenn to while away the hours near the stream, where she played with a friendly fish, then eventually found a comfortable spot for napping. Settling back, with friends and family reeling across her consciousness, she noted, one at a time, Mom, Tyler, Ophelia, Queen, Mr. Greenlow, Ms. Bloom - even Mr. Combs - before drifting into a sound sleep.
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          Later, as she rubbed the sleep away from her eyes, she wondered when Dad might return. She stood up and discovered him sitting at the water, soaking his feet in its cool flowing stream. He waved to her, then kicked to send the same fish which she had gotten to know retreating, then coming back to touch his left pinkie, repeatedly. “What have you found out?” she said, coming as she spoke, to sit beside him.
          “I learned,” he replied, brushing a tangle out of her hair, “that this is a big project. Too big for me alone. I need help planning and then we need a whole team to make it work.”
          His head wrinkled in thought.
          “What, exactly, Dad? I don’t understand.”
          Dad was lost in his schemes. “Move this planet,” he muttered, absently. “The question: how far? Where to?”
          Gwenn did not want to contradict her father. But, “Nobody can move planets. Not even this one.”
          This brought Dad’s attention to the surface. “But, I can move this one. It has built-in mechanisms that make it rather simple. The inner game structure making Pi hollow can also be manipulated and utilized for making the sort of thruster that can send it anywhere. I just need a competent team to work with me.”
          He took his socks in hand and began to slip them over his feet. “Now, he said, “I’ve calculated that following this stream will bring us to a fissure that lets us escape, very near to Pythonville. There ought to be soldiers bivouacked there, many of whom are my
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good friends. I could persuade them to get me an audience before the Counsel to plead my case. I’ve gotten you into a grim situation. I’m going to get you out of it.”
          He was standing, after pulling on and tying his shoes, ready to get started. They set out backtracing the flow, on occasion discovering waterfalls at which point they were obliged to seek out higher levels in the game board in order to keep with the course of the stream.
          “Why don’t we see the game playing?” Gwenn pondered at one point.
          “It can’t be active unless somebody punches the on/off button,” Dad explained. “I’m not certain what would be our fate should that ever happen. But the pieces are programmed to attack what they encounter.”
          By the time they came into the final stretch, natural daylight could be seen pouring down the hole through which they were hoping to crawl up and out to the surface. But luck turned against them, even as success seemed imminent. For the mutual gouging between this planet and the Earth had weakened varying points to allow debris to drop into the game works. One crucial wound had caused some blocks of dirt and stone to teeter, until a dead tree limb dropped, the result of a strong wind gust, causing one of those loosened blocks to tumble into the hole. It struck the on/off switch like a great forefinger, springing the game to life.
          All passages inside Pie’s core became alive with a menagerie of gigantic action figures, animals all, programmed to attack innocent deer and bunnies. But, with no one to play this version of the game the innocent creatures all were canceling out at the game’s
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beginning. Just Gwenn and her father were in the path of these beasts, which moved very deliberately, until within the proximity of a target and were programmed to strike with lightning movement. The manufactured creature suddenly stalking their corridor had arrived in the guise of a cartoonish maliciously grinning gorilla.
          Gwenn and her Dad became aware of the danger even as they approached the incline and began to seek some footing to climb upward. Just when a safe getaway was almost assured, Gwenn lost her traction, beginning to slide back down the mossy surface. She grabbed at Dad’s outstretched hand, missed, then tobogganed to the bottom, straight at the fake gorilla which now rapidly reversed, left to right, right to left, repeatedly, for it had detected a target, but was uncertain where to strike. Her feet slammed into the gorilla’s heel. The beast magically vanished.
          Dad had scrambled madly down the incline, intent on rescuing his daughter. Gwenn looked up in time to see him trip on his own feet and slide the rest of the way down, basically on his chest and chin. As the momentum eroded, the rest of his body slammed down and came to a rest, battered and still.
          Gwenn kneeled beside him. “Are you okay?” she said.
          His eyes popped open. “We have got to move quickly,” he said, rolling over and taking to his feet. “Either another gorilla or else a charging rhinoceros will replace that one at any second now.”
          The prediction proved accurate as a huger than huge rhino suddenly bore down on them. Gwenn began an ascent up the grade, with Dad closely at her heels. His shoestring
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had become untied in the last few minutes. His other shoe stepped on it and he stumbled right under a down-coming rhino foot. He reflexively threw up his hands to block the impact, but Gwenn knew he had no chance at all.
          Except - In the final nanosecond the foot vanished. The creature vanished. Unbeknownst to the terrified nearly victims, a second chunk of dirt and rock had dislodged, to tumble down and slam onto the on/off button, making the game once again dormant.
          They huddled in the corridor, recovering.
          Almost an hour later they stood on a rise, looking down on a camp with a makeshift barracks that had been collapsed by the battering between the two planets. “I was stationed here, before the borgs captured me,“ Dad observed. “Let’s take a look around down there.”
          The whole place had been rendered useless. As Dad poked around the caved-in roof and walls, Gwenn toured the damaged vehicles and planes in the field. On making an important discovery, she ran breathlessly to her father. Unable to speak for the moment, she pointed to the field and led him far enough to see for himself that she had found a perfectly intact drone, just like the one that had carried them into exile. He was delighted. “This can get us to the Counsel in record time. First, we shall eat.”
          Dad sent Gwenn crawling through a space too small to fit himself into, letting her reach the barracks pantry to forage for food. She pitched out some cans through the opening, then scrambled back with a few bundles of cakes and bread. It was a meal for
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the hungry and soldiers. She could have kept right on eating, once they had emptied out all of the wrappers and the cans. Full of renewed vigor, she joined Dad in preparing to lift off in the drone. She became comfortable in a passenger’s seat and she watched her father tinker with the controls a bit. After she had waited too long and nothing happened she asked what was wrong.
          “Battery’s dead,” he said, exasperated.  “Why don’t you rest in your seat. It will take a bit to get the generator to charge it up.”
          She had eaten and now rested much too comfortably and so quickly went to sleep. She was awakened by gruff voices and the awareness someone other than Dad had intruded inside the drone. A soldier with a small waddle and pointy beak asked her to step out of the drone.
          She saw that Dad had gotten the battery charged and the generator put away before being interfered with by a group of ten troops. Fending her way among them, Gwenn reached her father and put her arms around him. “I don’t know these men,” he told her. “They’ve sent for Commander Jernman Jogans, whom I served with. Everything rides on his way of receiving my request for help.”
          Gwenn stared at these soldiers, curious as to why her father had populated his novel with what seemed biological impossibilities, of Birdpeople and cyborgs. She knew the lack of high education held her from entertaining the possibilities a scientist like her Dad would have drawn upon. There was a growing list of questions for him, once this adventure was ended.
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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.”






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          “It’s just monitoring and maintenance for the next nine months,” Dad added. “And we are not required for every single job except if technical issues come up.”
          A party atmosphere filled the little home and the family together created the finest meal they had eaten since their arrival. They spent the rest of the day and into the evening celebrating and chatting as they had not been able to in a long time. Gwenn pushed considerations for Tyler to the side for the time being. The whole time Tatum and Pear lay in the middle of the floor smiling doggie smiles enjoying just looking from face to face.
          Then it was early morning. Dad just could not sleep more for the excitement of getting underway. He came into the kitchen just as Gwenn concluded bustling about, feeding the dogs, cleaning their dishes - brewing up the tea the family made do with in the absence of coffee.
          He helped himself to the hot brew and seated himself at the table. “So,” he said between sips; “tell me what you’ve been up to while your Mom and I were so busy?”
          “Nothing special, until yesterday,” she said. Gwenn told in full how Tyler’s parents had come to Pi in search of their boy. She told for the first time how he came to be on Pi.
          The story left Dad pondering. By the time Mom came in and scooted onto her chair, he still remained engrossed in thought. When he and Gwenn explained the situation to Mom her commonsense response was to enquire of the businesses along the streets, for somebody ought to recall a boy so different. Doppelgangers for Tyler: there were none.
          Of course, they had to agree with her.
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          After a good breakfast, they bicycled over to the Meekems and knocked at the door. After a good round of greeting and small talk, Dad explained the thinking on Tyler. He had them understand, his position at the rocket engine could not be left empty. Delay fixing any critical problems that arise might result in disaster. He and Jenna had discussed it before they left home and had concluded that she and Gwenn could accompany the Meekems in the quest to locate their son, and likely do as good a job.
          So it was decided and Dad called in a drone, to arrive the morning following, and it delivered the searchers to that same square, where the portal from Earth once had been in operation.
          The square where Gwenn had first landed on Pi looked as though it had been crushed by a fist, on the one side; whereas the other side looked nearly the same as before. The railroad track, with its twisted rails, lolled, grotesquely, beside the unscathed depot, making the ticket clerk unemployed and the building vacant. Gwenn insisted that they go in each business where she had first ventured on her arrival, having as she did a fond memory of the restaurant where she had received a free meal and expecting to again be thoughtfully received by the staff. She believed Mom would love the waitress, with the long black wings, straight black head hair, face with eagle-like beak, and long feathered legs, ending with boot shod feet.
          Mom and the Meekems, came in the establishment, craning their heads at the high ceiling, and looking about for the proprietors. There were no patrons at the tables. Yet the food odors stirred their appetites. They selected a table and were in the act of being
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seated, when the waitress swooped out of the kitchen area and hovered before them, with an order pad in hand. Thrilled and surprised, they eagerly read the menu offerings that were posted on the wall, above a long counter.
          Mr. Meekem asked for the pulled prok. The women ordered BLQ’s. They were fascinated by the way the waitress came to the floor and walked to fetch some tea, how her wings alternately fluttered at each step. When she poured up the drinks, George asked her if she recalled an Earth boy coming here, and he tried to explain the circumstances that might have brought him in. She said she remembered Gwenn and the free sandwich, but that Tyler had not come in.
          Next, they went the length of the street, first on the right side, then back to the point of origin on the other side. The second street yielded two sightings. Then, nothing. They searched all of the streets he might have been on, including the wrecked ones, with no further leads.
          At last, the tired searchers returned to the drone, after summoning the pilot, who had spent his day fraternizing with other pilots. “We’ve only just begun,“ George Meekem announced.“
          They would resume the search on the morrow.
          The following day was overcast; threatening, even. The little band persevered. George suggested they venture a little beyond the city, by going out from the one street where two clerks had recalled speaking with Tyler. That particular street had been home to a number of shops, now closed, although a handful remained in business. When thR
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sidewalk ended, the street transformed into a narrow lane, after a few minutes walking, and there was an information sign at the beginning, reading: Suspended Bridge Ahead.
          There had indeed been such a bridge, as they found out when they came on the wreckage of it and saw that it had once crossed over a deep chasm. At the same time, a sudden lightning storm wreaked havoc, harbingering a vicious pelting of hail, that saw the unfortunates scrambling for cover.
          They ducked under a portion of bridge jutting up at the crest, to form a deep hollow, with the opposite end forming a mouth at the dropoff. It was the briefest of storms, allowing them to exit almost unscathed. Strong wind gusts caused the trees to sway. It was in the course of one tree bending, leaning near to breaking, Jenna saw the cupola. She explained that she recognized it by a reading of Dad’s novel. “The Goop Bird Monastery,” she exclaimed. “It’s a hunch, only. But, we’ve got to go over there.”
          “Why, what is it?” George asked. “I don’t see a thing over that way.”
          “Come,” Mom answered. “I can try to explain on the way to it.”
          Gwenn was ready to obey. “But, Mom, where is the trail?”
          “The Goop Birds don’t make trails,” she replied. “The Goop Birds, unlike the Birdpeople, are more bird than human. So, mostly, they fly to get to places. And they like their solitude.”
          Emma was not fond of the notion. “Why go through so much hardship? How would Tyler have gotten himself connected with these Goop Birds?”
          George voiced support for his wife. “I’m afraid that if you can’t make a case for
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doing this I am going to refuse to go.”
          Mom was patient. “These birds are psychic. Because of your connection with him, they can tell us almost anything, if Tyler is anywhere within their range. Why not try? As of now we haven’t a clue to go on.”
          George remained hesitant.
          “Tell you what,” Mom offered. “You make camp, here, you and Emma, and Gwenn and I will go to the monastery.”
          George said he knew his wife well enough to read when she needed to rest.  He assisted her to the bridge wreckage to set about making a comfortable camp. “See you later,“ he said.
          Mom set out, immediately, not being one to procrastinate, and Gwenn double-stepped to catch up.
          Gwenn had an early premonition that the Goop Birds were from Dad’s spiritual leanings, although it was not a topic he was in a habit of discussing before her. That was because, as he had informed her a few years back, the spiritual aspects of life are much too personal to be taught by those in authority. It is for her to nurture that within herself that satisfies the primal urge to be whole. When she questioned the concept he said she would come to understand with maturity and age. 
          The Goop Bird sentries spotted them very quickly. One ascended through the trees to drop down right before them. The sentry stood, perhaps six feet tall, black as a raven, so heavily feathered as to be hidden deep inside. Its face and hand-wing components were
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all she actually saw. It had a buzzard-like countenance, with two malevolent bulging eyeballs. This was the final straw. Gwenn was no longer surprised, by anything she saw on this oddball planet and she almost cracked a grin aimed at her absent Dad.
          The sentry looked Jenna over repeatedly. “You are seeking help. You would never come here were it not so.”
          “Yes. We are desperately searching for a boy. Do you think the priests will hear us?”
          “You will not be turned away. Continue on.”
          The sentry swept its wings in a violently downward motion that propelled it above the tree line in a matter of seconds. Gwenn half expected the dense growth to thin somewhat, the nearer they came to the monastery but it never varied. When at last they burst through the foliage they fell into a courtyard, for this was a complex with no need of a wall or fences. They thought that a Goop Bird suddenly dropping before them had to be the sentry from that earlier encounter. It motioned them to follow toward the central building, the one with a cupola on top. It was gold in color, although the sides appeared to be of mud-laced thatch.
          As the sentry lurch-walked before them, Gwenn had an impression that it had unparalleled strength, even though it exuded a deep peacefulness. They saw birds, working in garden plots. Others seemed in meditative states, oblivious to their passing. They were led inside through a doorless archway and motioned to wait in a huge vaulted room, while the Goop Bird went into a hall out of sight. It returned, minutes later,
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signaling them to go along through that hall to the end.
          The floors were made up of straw over the plain dirt, but the walls were murals of inlaid tile, celebrating flight and peaceful habits. The inner hall was a somber room, populated with a few dozens of the elders, all training their orbs on these strangers come in their midst. The oldest of the Goop Birds had stirred from a position on a nest and come forward. “I am Alidz,” she said in a guttural voice. “I have the power you seek to employ. It is a lost art, once I pass on. You. You are from a world separate from Pi. Already, I read your character. What information is it you seek?”
          Mom pressed Gwenn forward. “We want to find a lost boy. I have never met the boy, so I don’t think I can help. My daughter is a best friend of his.”
          “I am prepared to read her. Please be aware, there may be after-effects that make your daughter uncomfortable for an unpredictable length of time.”
          She turned her attention to Gwenn. “You are willing?”
          Gwenn nodded.
          The bird moved awkwardly in to confront the girl, training her protruding dead-looking eyes on Gwenn‘s forehead, wrapping her fingers tightly about Gwenn’s wrist. Gwenn cringed but willed herself to be still, despite the feeling of something creeping inside her arm out of Alidz‘s fingers, crawling upward, inside her torso, like a rapidly spreading vine, with tendrils spreading throughout her blood and bones, until invading the deepest recess of her being.
          Consciousness fled, until Alidz ceased to probe, then returned an increment at a
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time. As the blackness oozed from Gwenn’s brain, dimly aware of the final tendrils that withdrew, she stared vacantly as the bird conversed with Mom. After thanking Alidz profusely, Mom led Gwenn from the temple and back into the woods. The dear saw birds where there were none, swooping in whiteness, ducking when some came too close.
          She continually paused, yearning to soar among the birds. They were able to rejoin the Meekems, both of whom had fallen fast asleep. Mom settled to wait, but Gwenn went away from the group to stand above the chasm looking over the vastness, feeling she could soar above it all if she just gave herself a little boost by jumping off and spreading her wings. And, then - She went flying. The wind rushed past her face as the great black Goop Birds circled about. They gathered in a group to make up a vee that would race over the woods and beyond. She fluttered and flapped her wings without catching up to them. In moments all were gone. Then she felt her mother, hugging as ever tightly she could. In the following instant, Gwenn’s mind became pristine clear. The effect of Alidz’s probe was no more.
          “One more instant, you would have plunged into the chasm for over a hundred feet,” Mom said.
          She dragged her daughter to safety and all but pushed her down to get her to sit.
          “Mom, it’s okay,” Gwenn protested. “I’m all right now.”
          The Meekems wakened at the sounds they made. “Sorry,” George said. “We were tired and sat still too long.”
          “I have a lead on Tyler,” Mom said, while still casting keen looks at Gwenn. “We
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have got to return to town and look beyond the rubble we’ve observed. I don’t wish to alarm you but he may be in trouble.”
          Emma, willing to soldier on, took determined steps to get back on the way to town. The rest took note and joined her. The hard trek across the damaged terrain had been mitigated by a trail locals established on the same day Pi had been scored by its encounter with Earth. By the time our friends emerged on the other side, they had obtained a full view of one of the hardened bunkers that were being frantically thrown together as a means to protect much of the population from the crunch, when Pi would assault Mars.
          Mom took them onto a country lane that fronted several farm tracts. A sprinkling of houses and barns dotted the landscape. One piece of ground lay unplanted, unfurrowed, weed overgrown. The crumbling gate had been left wide open, likely left like that for years. The barn had lost some beams, resulting in a partially collapsed wall and a deeply sagging roof. The house alone, of all that populated the so-called farm, appeared intact. The intruders gathered before this inglorious structure, wondering not just if, but, why anybody lived in it. Before they gathered the resolve to move on it they heard the door’s hinges creak.
          The face of a juvenile Birdpeople poked through the narrowly cracked opening then the door quickly slammed shut. It was enough to move the group forward. George moved in and knocked very loudly. They waited until the same face appeared, wide-eyed and fearful. “They are not here,” he said. “I am home alone.”
          “Who, other than yourself, lives here?” George asked gently.
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          The boy became cagey. “Why do you want to know?” he asked suspiciously.   
          “I’m looking for a lost child. He’s not of the Birdpeople, but I suspect he may be in their company. What do you say?”
          The boy spoke as he began closing the door. “Wait ‘til they get home,” he said.
          George cast a quizzical look at his companions. “What do you make of that?”
          “We should wait out here,” Mom asserted, with Emma and Gwenn nodding along.
          Gwenn wondered why the boy had not denied knowledge of Tyler unless he knew something about him. She placed herself on the porch swing to rest up and to think about what they would do if they found Tyler but could not get him back. Emma joined her and they chatted about Tyler, while Mom and George walked around the yard, wondering why the farm was so in disrepair.
          In time they heard a battered drone approach the farmhouse, and heard it prematurely drop to the ground in the final moments of flight. They saw a middle-aged Birdpeople man hop out, followed by a gang of youngsters. The man repeatedly kicked the drone while yelling in the archaic Birdpeople language. After exhausting his rage, he marshaled the children, who all wore cloaks with cowls. He walked them, eyes to the ground, into the house, before acknowledging the four earthlings waiting on the porch.
          He was a striking figure of a Birdpeople person, with a red feathered head, a parrot-like beak, and an athletic physic. His green eyes sharply looked the people over, as he stood with his feather backed hands on his hips. He stared impassively, saying nothing.
          “Well, I will get to the point, then,” George began, after an uncomfortable lull. “I
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am looking for my son. I was directed, by the Goop Birds to this very house. Mr. -?”
          “Nepo Rike. I do have an Earth boy here. But, he is bound to me by law for another six years. He has proven an invaluable asset to my operation. Therefore I could not part with him an instant sooner than the six years.”
          George was impatient but forced himself to act respectfully, as he hoped Rike might be reasoned with. “Bound, in what way? For what reason?”
          Rike sighed in an indication he did not like explaining himself to people. But here they all were so he offered the following, truthful, explanation: “Firstly, I contract public works projects. The local authorities have granted to me guardianship over as many unattached children as come my way as helpers. Some are orphans. Some are simply not wanted by their parents. I house and feed them and put away a small part of earnings generated from their efforts so that once they leave me they have a stake to finance them until they can become situated. The Earth boy will not be considered a free adult for another six years. At the end, I can turn him over to you, if you still want him.”
          Emma, Mom, and Gwenn started to protest, but George signaled them to be still and allow him to handle this situation. “Can you let me speak with my son?” he asked.
          “Of course,” Rike said.
          His voice boomed a command that Tyler be sent outside, alone of the children.
          Clueless Tyler came into the sun and when instructed lifted his cowl. On seeing his parents and his best friend he feigned nonchalance. He went to them, face impassive. Suddenly he and his parents were hugging and his mother‘s kisses went all over his face. 
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Gwenn stood back to watch, growing misty-eyed, awaiting her turn. Mrs. Meekum paused to look for her. She motioned to urge her to get in on the hugs. Gwenn rushed to join in, squealing, “Tyler. I missed you.”
          Their time together was all too short. After a few minutes, Rike made it known he was ready to end the reunion. George explained to Tyler and Emma that he would explore all the legal ways to end this mad relationship with Nepo Rike. In the meantime, Tyler had no choice other than to stay here and continue to obey the man. There were a few hugs more until Tyler, returned to the cowl, made his way sadly into the house.
          When Gwenn’s Dad heard the story, he was incensed. “I know of Rike. The man’s a cruel taskmaster,” he said. “Issak could possibly help us with this, but the issue‘s local. He might not hold any sway with these folks.”
          Issues with the thrusters kept Issak from considering Tyler‘s case. He sent the Meekems his apology, via Gwenn’s Dad, and that was the end of it. Next, George and Emma made a round of entreating local officials, with no success. So they sought and found an apartment to rent as near as possible to Nepo Rike’s dilapidated farm. They knew it to be impossible even to view their son but they could be nearby.
          Gwenn was forced to resume her life of getting schooled at home and riding her bike around the settlement from time to time. She had long since despaired of having a normal life, ever again.
          And then another month’s passing left seven and a half until what Dad called Impact Day. It was early evening, with the sun resting directly on the white horizon, and
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Gwenn rose from reading to answer a frantic knocking at the door. She had been awaiting Mom and Dad but found herself facing George and Emma, who fairly danced with excitement. Mom and Dad chanced to ride up on bikes, right after them.
          “We have fantastic news,” George began -
          “We can have Tyler back,” Emma gushed.
          George put up a hand, flat, with palm out. “But, he said, “there’s a bit of sad news goes with it.”
          That put a damper on the high spirits, for the moment.
          “How bad could it be?” Dad said cautiously. He quit speaking then, for George looked to be genuinely disturbed.
          “Well,” George began. “Nepo Rike has been caught invading the Goop Bird nesting compound. Turns out he swiped two of their eggs last season. When he tried it again, they were ready with a trap. A net. The kids told authorities they saw Rike when two Goop Birds picked him up with the net that caught him and flew off over the forest. He won’t be coming back.” He sighed. “ I arranged with officials to regain custody of Tyler.”
          Everyone became joyful and began congratulating the Meekems, but George told them to wait for the full story to be told. “I agreed to become obligated for the care of the remaining youngsters. In short, we become parents to twenty-four youngsters, only one of which is our own or even human.”
          George then entreated Dad to help him move the children into some of the empty
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housing, here on the white plain. “My money is rapidly depleting,” he added. “Without housing they won’t grant custody.”
          Dad assured George it would be done. “I am taking it on myself to assign two of the homes to you and I, for one, will gladly help you to care for so many young needs. Maybe not with time, but with material goods.”
          It was quickly settled and George left by himself in Rike’s own drone, promising he would return shortly beyond nightfall. The antiquated vessel seemed unstable, to the viewers from the ground, but it had seen a faithful service and it soared away into the distance.
          Almost immediately, Mom and Emma began making plans for the children, with Gwenn following along, hoping to be helpful. One of the first moves, the women had to find out if the neighborhood school could accommodate an influx of two dozen kids. Then, extra beds and furniture. Some of the plans were contingent on if they were dealing with just boys. “It would have been nice to be informed if any are girls,” Mom complained.
          By the time the children arrived in the drone, the night was gently creeping in. Cloaks and cowls gone, the kids presented themselves in clean new clothes, each one beaming, and as curious about this new family they were getting inducted into as the family about them. Many had to have hugs when they were introduced toEmma..
          Tyler stood slightly taller than these young Birdpeople. He seemed popular among them and in fact had a real fan in Fweeze, the shortest, sprightliest, of the five girls. Her
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gentle features and innocent manner endeared her to Tyler, so he didn’t mind she followed him around. Her large eyes and budgie-like beak made her all the cuter. She ran everywhere in an awkward scurrying manner that made some consider that she ought to have been hatched as a real bird. And she did not mind Tyler being loyal to Gwenn, his long separated from best friend.
          For now, the grownups must have order and they divided the children into two groups, all except Tyler. The groups were sorted by gender: five girls and seven boys. They were assigned their own beds and encouraged to pick a regular chair at any of three long tables. There would be no school for now, as the school had no room and not enough staff to handle them. They all were in a habit of obeying without question, which was good, initially, but their new freedom was certain to erode that fairly quickly.
          They were reckless days when the children all had bikes and they rode the white plain for miles, racing and playing games. The deliriously happy dogs ran alongside. It was like the glorious vacation days of summer on Earth when a child had no cares and could run at will.
          As the days counted down, the completed bunkers were set up for business, with an eye to the rapidly approaching contact day. There were none built on the plain, for the plain was to be the central point of impact and soon would be no more. They were assigned to a location near Pythonville and called to undergo drills. The structures were being stocked for the long haul, as nobody knew for sure what would be left once the crash was over.
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In the first week of the final month, Gwenn’s parents, Issak Spyng, Wilfred Combs, and others attended a ceremony at the bunker. It was solemn, in that it cautioned the people to expect the loss of life and property. Issak placed the full blame on himself, for bringing about such trepidation and suffering. He also praised the effort, in light of knowing the scientists that created Pi were almost certainly about to terminate the experiment, on the day his effort sent their planet into the real universe. He had, in effect, given the surviving population their one chance at life. There was more, but Gwenn and Tyler slipped outside, to wait for it to be over.
          They found a soft knoll to sit upon, enjoying a soft breeze. “You never did tell me how you got by Mr. Combs, to transport yourself to Pi,” she said.
          “Oh. It was simple. I out-maneuvered clumsy Mr. Combs and ran down the stairs. When I reached the door I opened it and shut it, loudly. But, instead of leaving, I stayed in the house and hid in a closet. I waited a long time and when I went upstairs again, there was nobody in there to stop me from transporting myself.”
          Gwenn gave a look of satisfaction. “I knew it was like that.”
          “I’m looking forward to when we get all of this done so we can go home and get out lives back,” Tyler said. “I’m just not adventurous at all.”
          “Don’t you know?” Gwenn said. “We’re not allowed on Earth anymore. Not Mom and Dad anyway. I guess when you leave it will be goodbye.”
          Tyler looked sad. “I don’t want to lose the best friend I ever had,” he said.
          They got up and moved around. 
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          They walked along the outer walls of the bunker. It was massively long and had no square edges. It was. It was, in fact, a city. The land for about a mile had been bulldozed clean, to minimize flying debris. A chemical had soaked the soil in a permanent way to hold down dust. Instead of filtering in outside air, they had been informed that the bunker would recycle the air within, as with the water. Plus, there were plants and animals, to ensure these species did not go extinct. Both remarked that it was like finding a Noah’s Ark. Gwenn secretly wondered how many other people and animals were being sentenced to face the big event from on the outside, for lack of room. Lots, she imagined.
          “But what are they going to do?” she asked her father, speaking later of the same dilemma.
          Dad, impassive, looked away. “Given the time frame and the resources available,” he finally responded, “we’ve done a spectacular job. There are thirty bunkers just like ours, scattered about the planet. The rest of the population has been advised all along that they have to devise plans on their own. I am hopeful they have done so.”
          He looked as though his shoulders held up the world, but could lose the struggle to keep it there.
          She understood. But understanding could not make it feel better. Getting chosen to harbor in a bunker, based on her relationship to her parents, just seemed wrong. When she confided to Tyler and the Birdpeople kids, they understood the injustice. Indeed, none considered themselves worthy. What could they do? Apparently, nothing. 

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CHAPTER EIGHT

          As hours counted down, school was suspended to give the children a bit of freedom in advance of long confinement. They scattered about the neighborhood and soon began discovering the circle of Gwenn, Tyler, and Birdpeople. As quickly as they met, they became friends. After that they looked like invading hordes from a “B” Hollywood movie, sweeping on bikes across the plain. In the early dusk, they had a favorite spot to lounge about to watch Mars grow larger in the sky every day.
          One morning the people were solemnly assembled. “Friends,” Issak Spyng said, as he stood before them, looking thoroughly humbled to Gwenn for the first time ever, “we are about to make up a caravan and go to the bunker. Once anyone is allowed in, there will be no leaving, until the leaders allow that it is safe enough to be outside again. If anyone has any issues, now is the time to voice them. There will be little in the way of democracy in there. Please be patient with us and we will get through this together.”
          Spyng always made his speeches short. Gwenn thought he made eye contact with her as he stepped down. She thought he was a great man, after the cut of George Washington. The crowd was submissive, ready to be led, hoping mightily these scientists
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knew what they were doing.
          They traveled in a line of drones in the midday sky, landing in a sheltered area outside of the bulldozed zone and were ferried to the bunker. Each group that stepped down before the entrance was encouraged to walk inside and wait. Dad, Issak, Mom, Wilford, the Meekems, Gwenn and others came in last, prepared to shut the door behind them right away.
          Armed cyborgs met them as they moved into the bunker’s confines. General Jod Krobber, the supreme commander during the Cyborg-Birdpeople War, commanded these troops. He had been in the process of sorting the cyborgs from the Birdpeople when he recognized Issak at the entrance. “Welcome to the coup, Mr. President,” he said, in mock jocularity. “I have taken this opportunity to settle the score from the late war. I command you to stand aside, as we cull all of the Birdpeople and seal them outside.”
          Issak disregarded the weapons, almost daring these men to shoot. “Jod,” he said sternly. “tell the soldiers to stand down. We don’t have the time to negotiate this sort of business. End this now. There will be no repercussions if you go.”
          The general nodded to his men as a signal to disable their considered former leader. Four rushed forward to seize him. During a brief struggle, Spyng was knocked unconscious. The other cyborgs then swept out the Birdpeople. Gwenn and Tyler had made their way to support their Birdpeople friends and were swept out with them. Mom saw Gwenn and Tyler in the tide of those exiting but was too late to voice a protest. As she turned to Dad to let him know, the opening was sliding closed and then secured. The
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bunker had been sealed for the duration.
          At first, all of the Birdpeople congregated on the cleared land surrounding the bunker to discuss their options. Making up two arguing factions, they haggled, until the greater group took to the drones and headed east. The second group turned north. The Earth kids and their friends had wandered away to the side, during that confrontation and they went off on their own. They looked to Gwenn, who said, “I know something to try.”
          Tyler trusted Gwenn as the toughest person he had ever known. “You do?”
          “We need a drone,” she said. “Do you think you could pilot one, or should I try?”
          “I can,” Tyler volunteered. “They are not so different from automobiles.”
          “If anybody can help us out, I bet it’s the Goop Birds. That‘s where we should go”
          Tyler pondered as he looked at the faces of Fweeze and the others, who obviously had nothing better to offer. Tyler gave in, for the same reason.
          They piled in one of the larger models, then fidgeted until Tyler managed to get the machine airborne. “Help guide me,” he said.
          Gwenn hoped the Goop Birds would not be too shocked when they trooped in and asked for asylum. She watched for features of the compound, then helped Tyler select a landing spot. The youngsters entered the forest from the same point Gwenn’s Mom had led them in before. They quickly began to notice that since the last visit the Goop Birds had woven a variety of materials among the trees, making up a ceiling about a hundred feet off the ground. It soon became apparent that the entire forest surrounding the compound had been woven to protect from approaching catastrophe. After they traipsed
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onto the floor, the incline kept rising until the children found themselves hiking far above the forest floor. The weaving took on the characteristics of a gigantic cocoon. They had as yet seen no birds. Nevertheless, Gwenn felt certain their approach had been detected.
          By the time they came on the central compound, several birds had come to escort them. The birds said not a word, but shuffled in from recesses along the way and fell in beside them. The children of the Birdpeople were thrilled and fascinated, for they had never been informed about Goop Birds. Two of the smallest youngsters held bird’s hands, looking happy and relieved to feel safe.
          The original compound had been separately ‘cocooned,’ for the duration, but a reasonable facsimile rested in the structure above it. It was in this place they were compelled to wait until Alidz and company came slowly and deliberately to greet these refugees. Her placid buzzard-similar face instilled confidence in the assemblage. Her bulging grey eyes went from Gwenn to Tyler a few times, the only ever acknowledgment that Tyler had been saved due to her psychic intervention. “You are blessed,” she said.
          She waved a hand in a motion that encompassed them all. “We have room for you. Welcome. Welcome.”
          If eyes could see the impending event from a vantage point in outer space, they would note how the white side of Pi was maneuvered to crash into a range of mountains, with peaks to punch holes in the white, allowing the Pi surface to crumble and cave in, with minimum slowing down, as the hollow planet swallowed up the lesser to make of the two a single planet. The trick was to time the speed and impact so cleverly that Pi
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ceased to travel at just the right point to let Mars rest easily inside. There would be a vast dent in Pi, where the surface would actually be mountains and plains of Mars and a portion of polar cap with ice.
          The shock to Pi brought on quakes and eruptions of massive proportions all over the planet. One of the thirteen bunkers was flipped. Another scooted many yards across the ground. It is probable species of plant and animal went extinct. Untold numbers of cyborgs and Birdpeople were obliterated by the destructive force of the collision. A blessing to the new planet, the Martian atmosphere over the open terrain became supplanted by Pi air, meaning the Martian plains could safely be terraformed in rather quick order. Finally, the new position from the sun meant the daily temperatures of Pi would be dropping, presenting new challenges to keep the people alive.
          Most immediately, the settling down of billions of tons of dust in the air had to take place before the people could dig themselves out.
          The children had been comfortably ensconced in a nest during the event. They felt the motion and faintly heard the sounds of destruction from the outside. As Gwenn waited in the darkness she came to accept for the first time how her parents and others, including Issak Spyng and Wilfred Combs, had become the greatest criminals against the lives of whole planets the universe might ever know. They were deserving of expulsion from societies and further history. She was grateful they all would merely be exiled to the plains that were original Mars, where they would eke an existence with little to no help from Pi and Earth.
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          She could not guess how long the wedding of these planets went on. She slept eventually. When she awakened, it was over. She questioned a friendly Goop Bird about when anyone could venture outside. The Goop Bird did not know. “Nobody knows for certain.”
          Gwenn believed that the people of both Earth and Pi-Mars were going to prevail and would fashion new, greater, societies. Sadly, the cyborgs and the Birdpeople were destined to continue feuding. Gwenn would work really hard to help with the settling of the bleak Martian landscape. Bravely, she looked forward to the future.