Chapter thirty-five

When Dion returned, I figured I would have to tell him most of plan Z, so that he would not be alarmed when everything’s underway. Neddy countered Dion’s cross, heading down into the scuttle to take care of some last minute preparations, I surmised. Dion was indifferent at the moment; he was going to trust my crazy plan, even if his heart wasn’t in it.

“So what’s next?” Dion asked.

“Next I explain to you what’s going to happen,” I said.

“I told you I don’t want to know what the book says.”

“I get that,” I said. “I’m only going to tell you what I’m going to do, as well as what I need you to do.” He offered me an affirmative frown, following-up with a nod that assured me that he understood. “You need to find a place to stand on the port side of the ship, and plant yourself there. You don’t need to hide, but stay out of my way.”

“And what are you going to do?”

“I will engage Neddy’s calypsus using my magic,” I answered him. Dion’s face grew graven, and he started to shake his head slowly, so I grabbed him by the shoulders. “I have to do this, Dion.”

“But Ned’s my kid,” Dion said. “You’re gonna kill another one of my kids.” I understood what he was going through, but we just didn’t have time for this crap. He was staying relatively calm, though. His eyes lit up for a second, and he continued: “I’ll do it.”

“You can’t, Dion,” I said. Of course he couldn’t; I wasn’t even going to engage the disease at all. If Dion stepped in, Ned would come down with real Quipzux, and I imagine our enemies would be prepared for such a scenario (since that’s what happened in Mystery Thesis). Thinking fast, I thought of a good excuse. “You can’t be the one to do it – I have to do it.”

“Because that’s what the book said,” Dion replied, finishing my sentence, thinking exactly what I wanted him to. I simply nodded, placating him a little, knowing that he would desist if I affirmed his reasoning. That very instant, Neddy came back up the stairs. My bathtub! Neddy was toting the enormous shield up and out of the scuttle. He smiled over at us, as we watched him place the bathy shield amidships. Dion then asked, “What the hell is that thing for?”

I honestly didn’t know the answer, at the time. It appeared to me that Neddy had come up with a good diversion, in order to confuse Dion. I imagine the whole scene looked as though I had assigned some last-minute tasks unto Neddy – tasks that Dion would assume were inscribed in Don’t Read – so that when the time came to engage Faux Quipzux, the attack would appear sudden and life-like.

“That’s the shield I was telling you I found in the Trash room,” I told Dion. “We’re going to need it when we arrive in Carthago.” I watched Neddy as he walked toward us; it appeared to me that he was the one who’d recovered the shield, after I had misplaced it somewhere in the Sorting room. I didn’t think much of it at the time though – it was just a passing thought. “All set?”

“Yes, Masters,” Neddy said, his voice ringing with its usual cheer.

“Dion, go find a spot on the port side, and get ready to sing.”

“Don’t you need to know the songs?” Dion asked. I only had to send a telling glance his direction to answer his question. “Oh, right, you read the book.” Dion walked off, and I knelt down next to the Solomon Learned unit.

“You ready, buddy?” I asked, smiling a little out of anticipation.

“Indeed I am, Master.” I grabbed the scruff on the sides of his head, and I closed my eyes as if I sought to ensorcell him. The tell-tale crash was the first thing I heard, and I watched as he planted his feet, allowing his torso to rise up a little and rotate; it was Faux Quipzux, but I imagined it looked just like the real thing. I bolted, playing up the heat of the moment, and when I had reached Dion, the fake countdown had begun.

“Ten seconds,” the Solomon bellowed.

“Lester,” Dion said, watching me approach, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I do, man, don’t worry.” The pink column of light had announced Ned’s Quipzux to the cosmos.

“Nine.”

“Of course you know the Beatles’ song, ‘Help!’?”

“I sure do,” I said. “But I imagine I will need your help here or there.”

“Eight.”

“Stick to the melodies, unless it’s a song of you know – then go for the harmony, alright Lester?”

“No prob,” I said, keeping my cool, knowing it didn’t matter if I screwed up, really.

“Seven.”

“Also, there won’t be much time before the first song begins, so anticipate it a little.”

“Six.”

“Okay. Hey Dion?”

“What is it, Lester?” Dion said back, amped.

“Five seconds.”

“I’ll see you in Carthago.”

“Yeah you will.”

“Four.”

“Also,” I said, “thanks for forgiving me, brother.”

“Three.”

“You got it, bro.” Then Dion shouted: “See you on the other side!”

“Two.”

“And thank you, Jesus,” Dion said to himself; loud enough for me to hear it.

“One.”