Realware

"Mr. Olou mentioned her," remembered Yoke. "He said someone's been ru

"Exactly," said Onar. "Cappy Jane's been losing some twenty percent of her bandwidth. The pirate signals go back and forth between Cappy Jane and a spot right near Tonga itself. So Olou called for the anteater!" Onar opened his mouth as if to display his tongue again, but stopped himself, thinking better of it. Ke

"So that pale vine was a copy of one of the pirate signals?" asked Yoke doggedly. Keeping his hand down in his lap, Onar pointed at Ke

Yoke's head was pounding, and Ke

"What's that!"

"A pig," said Onar.

"They're not pink?"

"You've never seen a real pig before, have you? You're delightful, Yoke." The car raced onward. It had adaptive DIM tires, and Ke

"We're almost there. This is the King's plantation."

The road was lined with tall coconut palms, and the headlights showed orderly fields of plants to either side. Up ahead were some colorful lights. "I understand that HRH moved out here because the people in town don't like to see him living with moldies," Onar said to Ke

"That's not my affair," said Ke

"Didn't you tell Cobb this evening would be humans only?" Yoke asked Onar.

"I lied," said Onar, "so he wouldn't come. Now remember what you promised me." And then they were out in the fetid tropical night. Yoke recognized the trees around the gossamer palace to be banyans, though she'd never imagined they'd be so huge. The trunks grew up and down, splitting here and merging there, the giant trees' flesh like wax or honey. The green moldie stepped forward, splitting her thick green lips in a smile.

'To! I'm Vaana. The queen moldie you been talking to on the uvvy, Onar. And this must be Yoke from the Moon. Welcome to Tonga, sweet thing." Yoke recognized Vaana's distinctive style of speech as a black accent. Each moldie fashioned his or her own particular human speaking style soon after birth, drawing on the speech of family, friends, and nearby humans, not to mention the endless databases of the Web.

As the moldie turned to lead them inside the crystal palace, something dark and ragged came flapping down from one of the banyans. Yoke had a mental flashback of the attack of the cyberspace jellyfish; she shrieked and dove to the ground.

"Lordy, lord," laughed Vaana. "Yoke's scared of flying foxes. Don't get your undies in a twist, girl. Those things won't bite unless you a piece of fruit."

"A large bat," explained Onar, helping Yoke up. "One of the few endemic Tongan mammals. It's easy for them to travel from island to island. There's more of them here than on, say, Fiji, because the Tongans don't eat them. The flying fox is tapu."

"This is turning into a majorly long day, Onar," said Yoke shakily. She was wondering what the hell she was doing here, about to get mixed up in some kilpy plot. "I think I want to go back to the guest house and get in bed." She looked around for Ke

"It won't take long, Yoke," urged Onar. "I know that HRH is eager to meet you. You'll feel better after a good meal. And then we can take a little boat across the lagoon to get back to the guest house. Just the two of us." He slipped his arm around her waist and squeezed her.

"Come on, Yoke," said Vaana. "Don't be a barbie."

Here in the jungle night the rank green moldie seemed like a figure of myth or legend, a Green Woman, an archaic personification of the Plant. Though Vaana continued to smile, Yoke knew full well how meaningless were the facial expressions of moldies. She wished she'd brought along the loyal Cobb. At least her uvvy still worked. Perhaps she'd uvvy Cobb to fly over here and rescue her soon, whether or not Onar liked it. But, yes, come to think of it, she was kind of curious about Onar's big secret. And deep in her girlish heart, Yoke felt a sharp hunger for that romantic boat-ride across the lagoon -- just like in a viddy or a book, with air and water everywhere, and a handsome man at her side. It sounded so exciting. So, okay, she followed along as Vaana ushered them into the King's country palace.

The first of the palace's domed rooms was a great hall, filled with cool, oxygen-enriched air. A moldie waited within, this one red and crablike, a squat creature with pincer arms. A guardian.

"Lock the palace on up, Gregor," said Vaana. "Our guests be here." The crab raised his claws and scuttled past them toward the door, not bothering to answer out loud.

The next room was a conservatory, with blooming orchids fastened all over the curving walls. The room's air was pervaded by an intense, musty tang. A moldie like a giant yellow banana slug was sliming from plant to plant, carefully tending them. It was he, not the orchids, whose odor filled the room. Like the crab, he kept his silence.

The third room was a dimly lit sitting room, and in there they found the King, resting on a silk couch with a cup of hot tea. The air in this room was warm and rapidly circulating; the hidden fans swirled away any scent of the moldies. The King was a big man with beautiful skin. His hair was long and floppy. He was wearing a flowered silk shirt and white linen pants.

"Hello, Onar," said the King. "I got the news about Mr. Olou. Fill me in on how that went down."

Yoke was surprised to hear him sounding like a regular person. Somehow she'd expected a King to sound different, all "ye" and "thee" and "tally ho."

"Greetings, Your Majesty," said Onar. "Allow me to present Ms. Yoke Starr-Mydol from the Moon. Known in the records and all outgoing video as 'Sue Miller,' thanks to Eleani's work."

"Welcome to Tonga, Yoke," said the King. "And listen, Onar, I've told you before, just call me Bou-Bou. You too, Yoke. Bou-Bou!" The King humorously stuck out his lips as he pronounced his nickname. He leaned back on his couch and waited, favoring Yoke with a charming smile.

"Um, okay Bou-Bou," said Yoke, taking a seat on the other end of the couch. Onar sat in the middle. Yoke lolled back and looked up through the room's transparent ceiling at the banyans and the night sky. She thought she could see a flying fox hanging from a branch in the nearest tree.

"It's exciting to be here," said Yoke presently. "These domes remind me of the Moon. My family has a friend who built a big house out in a crater. An isopod, is what we called it."

The King nodded. "I know of the place. The Willy Taze dwelling. I studied lunar architecture at Stanford, among other things. How did Onar persuade you to come here, Yoke? Did he put you on the Meta West payroll?"