When Chenille Is Not Enough
Chapter 15

Susan and Edna smoothed the quilt over the coffee table. Bozidar sat in the chair he had occupied the day before. Cecily and Scott set up the camera and lights.

“We should invite the rest,” Susan said.

“The rest of what?” Edna asked, folding an edge of fraying velvet. “Not the critters in the dining room?” She sat on the couch. “Space boy, two questions. First, can we trust them? Rupon made a pretty quick turn-around yesterday. I was too tired to notice then, but I’m thinking about it now.”

Bozidar chewed on his lip and stared at the quilt before answering. “I believe his repentance is sincere. Even if he has reconsidered his decision, the presence of this artifact should remove all doubt from his mind. And your second question?”

“What the heck are their names?”

Scott choked on a stifled laugh. Cecily pounded on his back, and Susan pressed her fingertips to her lips.

Edna shrugged. “I’m tired of calling them critters. I figure if one of them has a name, the rest must. And while you’re at it, what’s the name of your planet? And what do you call yourselves?”

Bozidar rose to his feet and bowed. “I am Bozidar, from the planet Schtatik. My clan mates are Rupon, Salia, Mercon and Dajdar.”

“The planet Static?” Edna asked, a cackle hovering under the surface of her words like a crocodile hunting a thirsty wildebeest.

“Mother, don’t start,” Susan said, closing her eyes and massaging her temple with her fingertips.

“Edna, behave,” Scott wheezed.

“I always behave,” Edna said. “I just don’t behave well. I’ll get the static clingers from the dining room.”

The sound of the dining room doors smacking into their pockets was followed by squeaks, then the slap of many feet trotting. Rupon reached the living room first, his beige outer covering still splotched from the ice cream bath.

Edna herded the rest. “Keep it moving,” she said, clapping her hands to set the pace. “Now, line up. Sally first, then Mark and Daj . . . Dag . . . ”

“Salia, Mercon and Dajdar,” Bozidar corrected.

“Sally, Mark and Dash roll off my tongue easier,” Edna said. “Although from the sounds they make we might as well call them snap, crackle and popper.”

A sheer green haze appeared in front of Bozidar’s face. He clenched his fingers, and the edges of his brown suit rippled.

“She has a point, although she made it in the rudest possible way,” Susan said, glaring at Edna for an instant. “We don’t know who is who. If we’re going to be allies, we should at least address each other by name.”

Bozidar’s edges settled into place, his hand relaxed and the green smoke drifted into nothingness. He stepped toward Rupon. “May I present Rupon, of the planet Schtatik.”

“We’ve met,” Susan said. “Forgive me, but how will we tell Rupon from the others once he, ah, washes?”

“By his spots, of course,” Bozidar said. “Salia has swirls, Mercon has boxes, Dajdar has stripes. Did you never look at them?”

Edna, Susan and Cecily crept up to the four, peering at their fabric coverings. Scott remained where he was, scanning them all.

“Well, I’ll be,” Cecily said, “All this time, I’ve never noticed their patterns.”

“I’m the quilter, and I didn’t see it, either,” Susan said.

Scott cleared his throat. “I can see this upsets you, Bozidar, but in their defense, the pattern is subtle. A small beige image on a beige background isn’t something most humans would notice.”

“Which is why we used this disguise,” Rupon said.

“You can talk!” Cecily said, clapping her hands.

“The translation mode must still be active,” Bozidar said, searching his pockets for the box. The screen was dark when he retrieved it, but a small pink triangle glowed in the corner.

“Leave it on,” Susan said. She settled on the couch, motioning for Cecily and Edna to join her. She ran her hands over the quilt surface. “What more can you tell us about these symbols, Bozidar?”

He sat in the chair opposite her. Scott settled into the chair nearest Edna. The others remained standing, silent.

Susan glanced at Bozidar. “I know you didn’t tell us everything earlier. What else does the quilt say?”

“What it implies is more important,” Bozidar said. He turned to his clan mates. “Can you not feel her presence? The leader of the first expedition to this planet gave her life to save her crew, and her spirit to protect the family of She Who Found Us.”

Salia edged toward the coffee table. Arms protruded from her middle and eye stalks from her top. She unraveled a thin strip from her arm and traced the embroidery on a velvet square. When she came to the end of the stitching, the strip spread into a spatula of fabric that morphed into a hand. The hand rested a moment on the velvet.

“You feel it, Salia. I know you do,” Bozidar said.

Salia responded with a bow, a puff of lavender smoke and a scent reminiscent of cherry danish. She nudged Mercon, who tottered toward the quilt, then Dajdar. When Dajdar did not move, she shoved him like a hockey player hip-checking an inconvenient opponent.

Rupon remained still and silent.

“I told you he gave in too quick,” Edna muttered. She gathered the quilt in her arms, shoved past Mercon and Dajdar and walloped Rupon with the embroidered side. “Do. You. Feel. The. Spirit. Now?” she bellowed, whacking him with the quilt to punctuate each word.

Scott leaped from his chair as Rupon staggered. He grabbed Edna’s arm. “Don’t damage the quilt, dear. We’re going to need it.”

Bozidar reached Rupon and steadied him. “Consider yourself fortunate. Cecily bit me.”

Rupon grew a mouth and eye stalks. The stalks twisted and arced while the eyeballs pivoted in Susan’s direction. “The elder is correct. During the rest time, I regretted my decision to return to Schtatik and beg forgiveness. We believed our clan elders were weak, and the old stories lies. We vowed to prove that Earth was ours for the taking, and once in our possession the beige clan would crush its enemies to rule Schtatik also. How wrong we were. How wrong I was.”

His last words were a whisper. His eye stalks retracted into his top, his legs into his bottom, and he collapsed like over-beaten egg whites. Blue and lavender smoke puffed from the folds of the quivering lump, and something akin to a sob burbled inside it.

Mercon, Dajdar and Salia pressed together and inched their way from the room. Cecily blocked their path, flanked by Edna and Scott. Susan leaned back on the couch, arms folded. She arched an eyebrow at Bozidar, who blushed, and prodded Rupon with his shoe.

“Who is ‘we’?” Bozidar asked.

“The sub-clan taupe,” Rupon said, still whispering.

“Ah.” Bozidar laced and unlaced his fingers. He paced to the window and back. Black smoke wafted from his ears, and his voice was a growl. “The taupes always did think themselves the most elegant of us all. They resented not being in charge.” The smoke grew thicker. “But perhaps we can use this to our advantage. I will call - ”

The screen on the black box flashed blue, and Marsel’s face appeared. “I have been monitoring your progress. Do not scowl at me, Bozidar. The situation is too delicate to observe standard protocol. Count yourself fortunate that I did not wait for authorization to eavesdrop. My superior is more than pleased with my reports. The four renegades have already been granted a full pardon. You, Bozidar, have been granted release from your original assignment, and voted a commendation.”

“Does that mean we don’t have to sleep with knives under our pillows?” Edna asked.

Bozidar’s shoulders jerked. “Why would you do such a dangerous thing?”

“I guess your translator can’t manage that one,” Susan said. “She is asking if she, Cecily and I still have a death sentence hanging over us.”

“No, no, that is rescinded. We regret the entire episode. Please trust us,” Marsel said, his words spewing into the room.

Scott took the box from Bozidar and placed it on the coffee table. As he settled on the couch next to Susan, he said, “You sound like a man trying to hide a secret, Marsel. Is there something you would like to tell us?”

Edna maneuvered the three aliens to a place where she could see the screen. “It’s confession time. Start talking.”

Bozidar balanced on the arm of the couch. He grasped his knees with his hands and leaned toward the screen. “I agree with the humans.”

Pink smoke obscured Marsel’s image, and his words came out with a squeak. “Clan rivalry.” A sound like a leaf blower starting up burst from the screen, and the smoke cleared enough for Marsel’s face to reappear. His skin was tinged with crimson. “Excuse me. My vocal passageway required clearing.” He coughed again. “The elders approve of the ceremony. They have some suggestions that would assist in your pardons.”

“I thought you said that was a done deal,” Edna said.

“Mother, let him talk,” Susan said. “You mentioned clan rivalry. Do you mean between factions of the beige clan? Or is this a larger problem, with the blues, perhaps?”

Marsel stuttered, and his face rippled. The crimson tinge deepened. “Bozidar, what have you told her?”

“Nothing,” he said, clipped and calm. “She is more clever than you - than we - anticipated.” He smiled at Susan. “And more generous. She has forgiven us all, even Rupon, and you know what he is like. The taupes are always so dramatic.” His voice dropped to a mutter on the last sentence.

“If it’s drama they like, we can give it to them,” Cecily said. “Let me stage this. We can have Bozidar taking his pick of ice cream. Stotlet. Whatever.” She rocked from one foot to the other and moved her hands in tight circles as her thoughts flowed from her brain to her mouth. “Maybe Mom can give him permission to eat, and Rupon could kneel at his feet.”

Susan held up her hand. “No, not just me. All three of us, as Agnes’s heirs. We could each eat a spoonful of the spumoni, then offer some to Bozidar from the same bowl.”

“What about the quilt?” Edna asked. “Shouldn’t that be in the scene?”

“You could hang it on the wall as a back drop,” Scott suggested.

A screeching sound like feedback from speakers came from the black box. Bozidar grabbed it and tapped hard twice. The noise ended, but the psychic reverberation rattled around the room.

“Apologies,” Bozidar said, placing the box on the coffee table and massaging his ears. “Marsel can be as dramatic as any taupe. From his expression, I believe he has an idea he would like to share with us.”

“He can’t do that until you take him off mute,” Edna said.

“In a moment,” Bozidar said. “He has yet to realize what I did. Ah, now he understands. He should be in control of his voice again. It should be safe to engage the sound.” He tapped the screen. “Marsel, dear friend, you know what happens to the signal when you shout with excitement.”

“Yes, yes, but you will shout, too, when you hear the solution that has revealed itself to me,” Marsel said. “The elders need to conduct a public trial, where all of you will be cleared of any wrongdoing. They want to establish their authority over the taupes, of course, but also show their wisdom to the other clans. And their experience with those from other worlds. They have given permission to use the artifact given by She Who Found Us to the survivors of our first expedition.”

Bozidar gasped. “The artifact!”

Susan closed her eyes and pressed her fingertips to her temples. “This is getting complicated. What is the artifact, why is it important, and can we use it in the ceremony?”

“As you have your monuments, we have the artifact as a symbol of our clan’s greatest triumph,” Bozidar said.

“You mean crash landing on another planet and getting rescued by a little girl?” Edna asked.

Scott shook his head. “No, that’s not the important part. They got home, with solid intelligence on what was beyond their own territory. And they made an ally.”

“Yes,” Cecily said, “it’s the hero’s journey. We should use it in the film.”

“We can’t use it until they tell us what it is,” Susan said. As the words left her mouth, an image appeared in her head. What else would a child have to give? she heard as she saw a small hand with a thimble on one finger. “Is the artifact Agnes’s thimble?”

Bozidar smiled, Rupon and the others gasped. Marsel squeaked so loud that Bozidar muted the box again. “Did I not tell you they are clever?” He tapped the box. “Show her.”

Bozidar gave the box to Susan. Cecily and Edna gathered to see. On the screen, a plain steel thimble rested on a puddle of soft fabric the color of pale honey.

Marsel’s face replaced the image of the thimble. “The artifact is one of the five clan treasures. No one has touched it since it was installed in the Hall of Honor.”

Cecily said, “What if we give Bozidar a new thimble in our ceremony? If we give Bozidar the spumoni, it’s like we’re saying he should be emperor. If we give all of them butter pecan while we eat the spumoni, we’re saying that we’re in charge. Then we give Bozidar a new thimble. Just as Agnes saved the lives of the first expedition, we’re saving Bozidar’s life by forgiving him - and by extension, the four who stayed behind. We establish our authority as well as cement our link to this ancient debt. The film could end on a shot of the quilt, with a close-up of the flour sack inside.”

Marsel’s edges wobbled. “Yes, that would work. But there is no need to record this ceremony!”

Bozidar trembled. The color of his hair and eyes faded from deep brown to an ashy gray-brown. “Please. No. A documentary would be more than enough to satisfy the clan.”

“What are you mumbling?” Edna said. “I can barely hear you.”

“Ignore him,” Marsel said. “This is my plan. With the elders’ permission, which I am certain they will grant, I extend the hospitality of the great and mighty beige clan.”

Susan’s skin chilled, and she felt her own color draining. “Hospitality? As in - ”

“I invite you to come to Schtatik. All three of you, the descendants of She Who Found Us.” Bright purple smoke shimmered along Marsel’s edges, and his eye stalks stood strong, proud.

Bozidar slumped, staring at his shoes.

The words “absolutely not” perched on Susan’s tongue. She saw Cecily pumping her fists and rolling up on her tip toes. I don’t have to guess what Mother is thinking. She turned to Scott, who shrugged and shook his head.

Edna ran to Salia and threw her arms around her. “Yee haw, we’re going into space!” She danced to the others in turn, hugging and shouting. When she reached Scott, she said, “Didn’t I promise you an adventure when we got married?”

“Well, dear,” Scott said, putting his hands on her shoulders, “I don’t believe I was invited on this trip.”

“Of course you’re invited,” she said. She stopped bouncing. “You’d better be invited.” Snatching the box with one hand, she pointed her finger at Marsel. “Scott comes, too. I’m the elder of this clan, and my husband is part of the deal.”

Bozidar lifted his head, a flicker of hope in his eyes. “Marsel, that’s an excellent idea.”

Cecily crept to her mother’s side. “Mom?” she whispered. She tugged at Susan’s elbow.

Susan took Cecily’s hands. “You used to ask for extra cookies this way.” She turned to Bozidar and put her arm around Cecily’s shoulder. “You make sure my daughter comes home safe and sound.”

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