4. Weapons of Kran
The opening in the tower turned out to be an exit. Prince immediately smelled that nasty scent of gas and combustion that flowed through the pipes. He wanted out, wanted fresh air, but the other side of the wall was just as bad.
Pinpin made the decision for him. He belly-slid through the round pipes, taking Pika with him. Akoa saw this as the perfect moment to nap and Prince used her back as his own vehicle.
They spiraled through the tower, ever downward, banging against metal walls at each sharp turn, and slowed by every gray cloud that flowed through the pipes.
Prince quickly grew nauseous and would have vomited if any food still sat in his stomach. He missed the moment when the tunnels ended.
Pinpin pushed a metal block with holes from the opening in the ventilation shaft. It fell to the floor with a loud clang, after which the group of four tumbled atop it, silencing the noise.
Prince gasped for breath. Clean air, clean air, I love you, he thought.
The space shone brightly but was otherwise empty. Prince stood first and looked upon dear Pika, sleepy Akoa, and clumsy Pinpin—a pitiful pile of animals who seemed ready to give up.
“Come on! We’ll search for the next rocket and when it departs.”
“Dear,” said Pika, “I want to leave. Now! Before any humans see us.”
“Yes, I know you do,” he said, irritated.
He pulled everyone to their feet and found a gate on the room’s far side. Akoa’s passcard opened it again, leading them outside.
“If you hadn’t dawdled so much,” Prince complained, “we would’ve made the rocket.”
“I didn’t dawdle. I looked for a better plan.”
“And by doing so you dawdled! Now we’re in even more trouble!”
They stomped across the area. Slowly, humans emerged from little gates and doors around the rocket base. They all wore the same white uniforms with blue stripes and looked to the sky, cheering on the rocket. It had nearly vanished into the blackened air.
It was only a small group, shrunk further when most boarded a windowless vehicle and departed. The animals could walk on, unseen, toward the cabin with the many lights.
They moved slowly, for the wind grow hot and sticky, sometimes sending gusts fierce enough enough to blow back Akoa’s ears. A storm approaches, Prince thought. That’s why the humans have all gone home. But then the next rocket could be a long wait.
The lighted building stood deserted as well. All still burned and beeped, with many screens full of symbols Prince recognized as their alphabet the humans had adopted and adapted. “Stolen and ruined,” Pika had said upon learning this.
The truth was that the apes had something to do with nearly every invention throughout their history. So perhaps the humans were right in this case, and the animal species had stolen and ruined their creations.
Inventions existed too, however, that all wished had gone extinct.
Behind a glass wall hung pistols and rifles, for emergencies. Most animals learned of these early, when they took a loved one’s life.
One of the screens displayed many colored dots. A circle steadily grew until it reached the edges and began anew, small. Each dot that met the circle made a sound, almost like his whistle, but shorter and higher.
Prince recognized the general shape but not what it represented. Most dots were white, green or blue, but at the rim he saw something more akin a red cross.
“Prince is right,” said Akoa in the silent space.
Pika hung her head guiltily. “I know we’re in trouble. So, new plan, let’s leave Raketa.”
“No, he’s right about your dawdling.” Akoa came to Prince’s side. “We could’ve easily made that rocket.”
“Oh sorry, lazy gray pouch bear, that I doubted the plan,” Pika shrieked. “Those humans see us as food! One wrong step and we’re done for!”
“And if we don’t find food soon, we’ll all die. So we’ll do anything to make the next rocket and go with the humans. We’ll beg them for food.”
Prince looked upon the starved animals and an angry Pika. “Or we help them somehow. I’m certain they’ll take care of us.”
Pika let out her deepest growl. Pinpin stood nervously between the two hares.
“What’d the koala say?” he asked gently.
“That they want to become best friends with humans,” Pika snapped.
Wings drooping, Pinpin waddled to Pika, picking her side.
He wrapped a wing around her but quickly retracted it. “Humans fished our seas empty and chased off my family.”
Prince regarded his partner, her dear eyes now furious. He stepped toward her, but she stepped back, looking away.
“I’m going back to the wild to fend for myself. Are you coming … dear?”
“I … I … I love you.”
“And I love you. What’s your answer?”
The door swung open. A young human woman entered as if wanting to run but unable to. The mumbles to herself slowly swelled into near shouts.
“Yeah, sure, go ask Mindy. She’s just an intern. No, you don’t need to pay her. She’ll work overtime for the experience. Max five hundred beings per rocket? Or it definitely won’t lift off? A rule we’ve used for a hundred years? Go whine to Mindy, as if she can change it!”
She finally noticed the animals and yelled as if to reach all of Aprania with her voice.
Pinpin immediately slid for the doorway. The woman dove down, hands outstretched, but Pinpin was too slick to grab.
Pika hesitated, then gently bit his tail to slide along until, outside the cabin, they fled at full speed toward the Floatfences.
“Pika!” Prince called, knowing it was futile. The woman spread her legs and arms to appear as large as possible. Her uniform hung loose, lab coat unbuttoned and weighed down by pens and papers clipped inside.
For several heartbeats, the room froze, no muscle moving, no light changing.
Then Mindy crouched. “Ho does such vermin get on campus?”
She frowned and picked with her fingers at Akoa’s fur, who even now fell asleep.
“Mice, rats, okay, fine. Small, hard to see, hard to catch. But a big old koala and a hare?” Her voice cracked. From it, Prince felt not fear but bewilderment.
She stood behind the animals and waved toward the doorway—the universal human gesture for please go the other way.
“She’s sleeping, you must wait,” said Prince.
Mindy frowned again. She pulled a black rectangular device from her pocket and shoved it nearly up his nose.
“Hey, cute bunny, make that sound again.”
Prince knew it sounded to her ears like a whistled melody. He saw Akoa awaken and wanted to flee—
When he remembered what the screen’s dots signified.
The shape onscreen was a world map. The red crosses looked just like the symbols used in the Second Conflict. The symbols you still find today, as warning signs, in places where all life has been extinguished.
Someone had fired Kran’s weapons.
The kind of rocket that did not seek a new planet, but the utter destruction of the current one.
He bit into Mindy’s pants and pulled her along.
“Hey! Let’s not get grabby!”
She picked him up. He thrashed to get out of her grip and ran across the long table of lights and buttons, accidentally turning on the radio, opening all the windows, and automatically retracting the room’s chairs.
Mindy slammed the buttons with similar fervor to limit the damage.
Prince leapt atop the screen and tapped with his foot at the red crosses. Yes, that’s the symbol of Kran! Some complete idiot has fired their weapon. We’ll all die! We must flee NOW!
Even Akoa understood she had to stay awake for this. The woman grabbed a broom and tried sweeping the koala outside, but she took hold of the stick like it was a tree trunk again, climbing until she lay against the woman’s belly like a baby.
With one finger she pointed at Prince.
He pointed with one paw at the red cross.
Mindy’s mouth fell open.
She stumbled to the screen, leaning over it, long curling locks like curtains across the dots, as if she didn’t want to look.
She did something with her black device, which beeped on every touch, then brought it her left ear.
“It’s Lindy. Uh, Masy. No, Mindy, intern at Raketa. The …”
She swallowed and dropped her device, but Akoa deftly caught it. She bent forward to be sure the receiver understood.
Unnecessary, for she screamed her message in blind panic: “Kran’s weapons have been fired! At us!”