After the Collapse by Paul di Filippo Page A

Storm?”
    Without stopping, Storm said, through huffs and puffs, “Just…hit…’print’…on…my…UPD.…”
    Soon all eleven wardens, even a grudging Pankey, were sparring vigorously. “Beware my unstoppable blade!” “Take that, foul fruit bat!” “I’ll run you through!”
    That night was spent mostly attending to various minor cuts and bruises.
    Sword practice continued the next day, somewhat less faddishly, until just before noon came a cry of “Land ho!” from Catmaul.
    Storm saw a small, heavily treed island at some distance off the port. “Is that Hawaii already?”
    Pankey cupped the back of his own neck with one paw and massaged, as if to evoke insight. “Impossible….”
    Bunter said, “Look how lush the vegetation is! We might find a species of nice fruit not templated in our UPD’s, if we land.”
    The normally reticent Gumball now laughed and said, “I don’t think we want to land on that ‘island.’”
    “Why?” said Pankey.
    “I’m surprised none of you have heard of the Terrapin Islands before. Down in Baja, we see them pass by all the time. Just watch.”
    As the Squid came abreast of the island at some remove, a patch of the ocean between island and ship began to bulge, water pouring off a rising humped form several times bigger than the Squid .
    The gimlet-eyed scaled head of the gargantuan Chelonioidea regarded the vessel with cool reptilian disinterest. Sea grass draped from its jaws. Opening wide its horny mouth, working its tongue, the terrapin inhaled the masses of vegetation like a noodle.
    Storm was secretly pleased to find his own nerves holding steady at the sight of the monster. The others reacted variously. Faizai shrieked, Arp clucked his tongue, Bunter gulped. Shamrock urged impossibly, “Get some more speed on here!” Gumball laughed.
    “They’re harmless! Don’t worry!”
    True to Gumball’s reassurance, the Squid slipped past the mammoth grazing landscaped sea turtle without interference, and soon Terrapin Island lay below the horizon.
    “And some claim the Upflowered had no sense of humor,” Rotifero observed.
    That night, long after his companions had passed satedly into deep sleep, Storm could be found awake at the rail, contemplating their luminescent wake.
    He liked these people, bucks and does equally. Even Pankey’s stern bossiness was fueled by pure and admirable motives. He enjoyed working with them, feeling part of a team. But did that mean he was ready completely to step into Old Tropo’s harness? And what of their vengeful mission? Justified, or reprehensible?
    The slick shadowy head of some marine creature broke the water then, and Storm jumped back. A dolphin! But capping its skull was a crust of magma! Here was one of Mauna Loa’s captives.
    The dolphin’s precisely modulated squeaks were completely intelligible. “Stop! Don’t run away! I just want to talk!”
    “Mauna Loa…?”
    “Yes. I know who you are, and why you’re coming. But you need not fear me. I only want to own a few islands, where I can practice my art. I want to mold life, just as the Upflowered did. Introduce novelty to the world. My tools are crude, though. Radiation mainly. You could help me gain access to better ones. Join me! Frustrate this mission! Turn it aside somehow.”
    “I—I don’t know. I can’t betray my friends. I have to think.”
    “Take your time then. I won’t interfere. I’m harmless, really.”
    And with that promise, the dolphin was gone, leaving Storm to a troubled sleep.
    Days four and five inched by tediously, as the wardens found all attractions equally stale, the monotony of the marine landscape infusing them with a sense of eternal stasis. Unspoken thoughts of the challenge awaiting them weighed them down. Storm tried to conceive of ways to convince his friends of the wrongness of their assault, but failed to come up with any dominant argument.
    After their evening meal of the fifth day, Pankey gathered them together and said,