HELL HOLES
Gail P. Robertson
CHAPTER 1
“OWWEEEE!”
Ablakan sucked his punctured finger and glared in mock severity at the long-haired calico
kitten.
“No, Shnook, don’t bite.” He shook the finger from a safer distance at the unrepentent
furball. She twitched her tail in response, fever-bright eyes never leaving the digit just beyond
her reach.
He smiled fatuously at Shalaii’s only feline. Schnookums had been a birthday present from
his dearest human friend, Jan Brody. From the moment he laid eyes on a tricolored domesticated
cat, during a visit to Earth, he’d dreamed of having one of these magnificently independent
creatures come live with him. Of course, he could not inflict such a destructive whirlwind on a
palaceful of irreplaceable treasures. But now that he was in his own complex on Pantai, he could
indulge his desire.
Ablakan opened the cleanser door in the ante room and extracted a suitable-sized dressing to
cover the tiny wounds. The wide mirror reflected his beige leathery arm, the skin criss-crossed
with tiny lines from the quilted cushion on which it had rested. The handmade gift was from
Earth’s second ‘porting telepath, Brenda Foxworth. He noticed that his sun-gold mane, which
flowed from its apex at the back of his head to halfway down his spine, was at the moment a
shag which resembled the tangleweed he had removed from the garden path yesterday.
Shnookums found it almost as irresistible as fingers.
Ablakan cast an indulgent smile at the troublesome cat and brushed his mane back into place.
He carefully checked his eyes. Fortunately, the kitten’s claws had not left a mark as they
attempted to capture the tiny pupils which moved independently of each other in his eyebanks.
The breathing slits underneath had not fared as well, and Ablakan dabbed at small beads of halfdried blood. As a final check, he opened his ovoid mouth, baring his twin rows of sparkling
teeth.
Satisfied at last that the features of his horizontally-oblong head were still in place, Ablakan
re-entered his sleep chamber.
A gentle knock on his door sent the kitten scurrying toward the sound.
“Come in,” Ablakan called, and the door opened a crack.
“Is SHE inside?”
As if in reply, a small paw, needle-sharp claws extended, insinuated itself into the gap and
tap-tapped around the corner in an effort to reach the body which went with that voice.
“Shnook, no!” Ablakan scooped up the protesting feline before she could get into more
trouble.
“I’ve got her, Saymin,” he assured his valet, who opened the door gingerly.
His elder by three decades (that he would admit to), today Saymin wore notably incongruous
attire. His uncharacteristically short warmers had been rolled down on his right leg to expose the
bottom third, just above the ankle. The otherwise bare skin sported an enormous bandage held in
place with what appeared to be leagues of tape. Saymin deposited his load of clothing on the bed
and walked toward the closet with a decided limp.
Ablakan had seen the damage Shnook inflicted on him the day before – three miniature
scratches which barely succeeded in breaking the top layer of skin. But if Saymin needed to play
the martyr, Ablakan wasn’t about to deny him the pleasure. At least while distracted by the cat,
his valet wasn’t trying to matchmake for Ablakan. Being a boy one day and Shalaii’s most
eligible bachelor the next was quite disconcerting.
“How is your leg?” First Ablakan of Pantai inquired, knowing Saymin would expect a fuss to
be made over his ‘war wound’, as he called it.
“I have learned to live with the pain, sir.” The valet favored the kitten with an aggrieved
scowl. “The medic assured me it is not life-threatening.”
“I am relieved to hear that. Are you settling into your quarters well? Have you everything
you need?”
“It is perfect,” Saymin assured him. “Primary Tweno was indeed generous in the
arrangements – well, mine, anyway. I have not seen anyone else’s yet. And such a view!”
“I’m not surprised. We are so fortunate to have him as our ruler.”
Ablakan blinked rapidly and turned away, his eyebanks becoming sodden. Despite the
magnificent surroundings and plush accommodations Tweno had arranged for him and his staff,
Ablakan was feeling overwhelmingly homesick.
As usual, Saymin noticed the mood change and placed a hand on his employer’s shoulder.
“I miss them all, too, sir, and you can be sure they miss you as well. There is still much
daylight left. I am certain you would lift his heart if you ‘ported over and challenged the Primary
to a game.”
“They won’t be eating for a while yet,” Ablakan agreed, cheered by the prospect.
“Why not give him a call right now?” Saymin quietly left the room as Ablakan closed his
eyebanks to mentally ‘knock’ in Tweno’s mind. The Primary opened to him instantly, unable (or
perhaps not trying) to hide his pleasure.
I was wondering if you have found replacements willing to let you win at golf? Ablakan
needled.
No, they’re all poor sports here. They don’t want to look bad when I beat them, so they
refuse to play. Use all sorts of lame excuses, like family or having to work – you know how it is.
Are you offering?
I need the exercise. And, Ablakan added, as honesty got the better of him. I miss the
company.
Then let’s not waste any more time.
A moment later, Ablakan appeared before his mentor. They grinned at each other knowingly,
for each had felt the loneliness in the other during that brief contact. Tweno was now barely
taller than Ablakan, who stood 6’6”, according to Jan’s measurements, but Tweno doubled him
in mass. Ablakan hoped in time to also put on weight to offset his gangly length, but everything
he ate seemed to translate into height.
Carts in hand, Ablakan ‘ported them to the first tee with the offhandedness of old habit. He
watched as Tweno, who had been to him more surrogate father than ruler over the years, sent his
ball in a devastatingly accurate trajectory to land three feet from the cup.
“Are you sure you haven’t been practicing?”
Tweno smirked but said nothing.
Ablakan’s shot had a slight curve to it, and his ball stopped at the far edge of the green.
“The first week is always the hardest,” Tweno said as they sauntered towards their respective
balls. “Soon after I moved into the skyzone tower in Tabix, I almost quit. The honor of
governing our largest continent just didn’t make up for the homelife I had left behind, even with
my mother having just died. I wasn’t much older than you when I took on the job. And I didn’t
have the ability to ‘port myself home when the loneliness got too sharp.”
Ablakan felt his skin pink, but not because of Tweno’s remark. He remembered someone he
should have been missing even more. “How is Epash handling it?”
Annoyance flickered across Tweno’s face. “She is playing the heartbroken mother to the hilt,
and the staff are flocking to buy her wares out of sympathy. But when I went to see how she was
feeling, she almost brushed me off when she saw I hadn’t come to buy. I certainly wouldn’t
worry about her.”
“It was generous of you to let her continue running the palace gift shop, now that I’m no
longer there.” Ablakan felt his gratitude stronger than his words conveyed. The alternative would
have had Epash living with him, probably trying to run Pantai instead of letting her son do his
job.
“The staff have grown surprisingly fond of her,” Tweno murmured, as he pulled the putter
from his bag. He neatly sunk the ball in one tap.
Ablakan took two strokes to do the same. With a sigh of contentment, he retrieved his ball.
It was as they approached the second tee that a hole of a different sort appeared, no larger
than a pinprick in the fabric of space. Nearby particles of cosmic dust abruptly veered toward it,
to disappear an instant later. The vortex grew, and more debris, this time from further away, fell
prey to its growing appetite.