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Shoppolis Islands Information

My name is Marge, and I am a teacher in SI.  Shoppolis Islands is known, in part, for its strong emphasis on the written and spoken word.  All SI schools require an intense knowledge of the English language in spite of the power of colloquial expressions and other "created dialects and sub-languages."  On SI, all personnel, regardless of heritage, ethnic preference, ability or other rationale, must learn the English language even if it requires schooling.  The evening school at Battaglini High School in South Beach specializes the three basic levels of English.  Once graduated, we all speak the same language, which translates into the fact that the same things mean the same thing to all of us.  This does not take away from other languages, which we encourage be maintained, spoken and worked into the fabric of our identity.  Street talk is fine as long as it does not take the place of essential conversational language required for business, commerce and understanding one another.  In addition, our local libraries, as well as the main Library of Shoppolis Islands, in Quayton, carry many current covers not to mention a strong representation of classical and esoteric books.  When a poll of our citizens was taken in 1992 by the Loveladies Gazette, which carries much of our information and news on creative subjects, it was found that nine out of ten citizens read at least one book per month.  We found that quite amazing.  What was of additional surprise was the predominating type of book read.  It was a biography.  It appears our citizens are quite interested in the influential people of all cultures around the world.  The country that had the most biographies requested was England.  Second was the United States followed closely by the whole of Europe.  The number one classic requested was Julius Caesar by Shakespeare followed by Plato's Symposium followed by the Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin followed by The Three Musketeers by Alexander Dumas.  Among the young citizens of SI, the most popular type of book checked out of all the libraries in 2002, was the fantasy type like Tolkien's Lord of the Rings.

A Listing of Some Great Reading

ELLITOE'S EGG

A short story from your hosts at Shoppolis Islands

    Bellitnit was a real bastard, and everyone knew it. From the outside of the belltak shell to the blown frantar interior, the reputation of the Boofon prince pervaded everything. The galley crew hated him; the ship captain despised him, and worse of all, his bampovor continually crawled away and got stuck in the venting. Ellitoe, his wife, was much more tolerant than anyone else on Heybiggo IV, and that was just fine, except that she could not keep the slimey creep in his compartments.

    He would sneak out and bother everyone; tell each and every man, woman and Pognot how to do his, her and their jobs. Pognots were ordinarily peaceful duos, but when Bellinit was about, both beings of the Pognot would refuse to agree on any subject, and this usually created an argument of Sellaninin proportions, and no one wanted that.

    On one particular evening, when the Solops went down to signal the end of the day, Bellinit decided to invade the bridge and its shift crew. When the oval hatch slid open and the multi-faceted prince bumbled through, Sirm Grag Pentagato, a seler-level officer, covered him with Pano oil and escatchet hoping the formal greeting would satisfy the prince's unsatiable appetite for grandeur. The prince just lay there popping and burbling in the ornate mass. Pentagato bowed deeply. Bellitnit snooted his orifalla and emitted the traditional tooseevera. Pentatago waved his sworlin and signaled to his second in command to sitch the smooner. Bellitnit acknowledged the signal and passed through to a sworna gallan lowered from the overhead. It spread open and received the angular body of the prince in a most accommodating manner. He seemed more than pleased.

    Pentagato, owner and captain, assumed his duties and turned his attention to the jeweled access ports to look busy. He didn't want the prince to, in any way, get his private attention. In space, during Bengalum, there really wasn't much to do, since the Truce of Zettica, almost one nanyar old, had guaranteed all ships free passage from Bon to Tippicur.

    The fact that Heybiggo IV had been chosen by the prince to convey his royal self and his wife to Tippicur, had no effect on the veteran captain until he was notified that ten thousand peppits had been placed into his company accounts, and five thousand peppits, plus a ganete cronepon, had been placed in his private accounts. This most-generous arrangement, prior to sailing, had guaranteed the charter of the Heybiggo, one of the most luxurious Canna Cruisers in the sector.

    Pentagato was, for all intents, an honorable Denalona, and had the medals to prove it. His sight lonacons and veering pentabons had earned him the respect of every other Delalonian captain. He descended from a race of commanders with far-reaching powers, powers that allowed him to siggat a biggo through any field of momas. The prince, not known for his generosity, had definitely raised a few linkas when he offered Pentagato and his crew this mission.

    It seemed clear cut enough, even after a croppalon check, that the prince and his journey was approved by SectaLok, yet Pentagato was suspicious. Why pay ahead? The captain filed his mission plan and paid his fees. The Boofon prince, his wife, and small entourage would board his ship, journey to their destination with a minimum of interference, disembark peacefully, and go on about their business in the SektaLock Council; the prince, because of his rank in the Boofactic, had been elected to the post of General Seenon. No one ever bothered to tell the self-indulgent royal pain in the bookah that the position had been created just for him in order to keep him from meddling in the negotiations going on between Pindalan and Zoop.

    No matter, the captain continued to gaze into the dark recesses of space; the instruments glowed; screens flickered, and crew members moved about monitoring cruise processes. Bellitnit sat in the red celliner-lined structure and spread his nippors. Pentatago ignored the light screeching of the prince's batahorns on the slick, shiney surface of the navigation station. The navigator stood, glued to her panels.

    Pentagato decided that the crick in his neck was becoming overbearing, so he turned to leave the access ports, moved a few short increts and assumed his command seat. He let his airlings vent and sat down slowly; the pressure cylinders compressed under his incredible weight. His eye closed, and he elevated a tartnart just enough to view the latest version of Catnat and Beensittle. This sitcom would serve as a most-satisfying diversion for the next few haggars. The prince rotated his fillon so he could peek over the captain's shoulder and still retain his air of dignity; the captain did nothing to indicate he knew the royal bumpkin was watching tartnart.

    Just as things began to normalize, and only the snifing of carlogs could be heard pumping in the distance, a shriek rifled through the ship and echoed in every cavern. Pentagato, as a result, was launched a few increts and angled awkwardly on his dinnions, wrenching his back and spraining a critis. He cursed a few frillots, and let his airlings fill; he knew what this sound was. He waited a trillig to see if the ship would come apart, but nothing happened. No alarms went off; all indicators were in their normal modes, and all crew members stood anchored at their posts. Each officer was looking at the captain to see what orders would come next.

    The prince had spun about, gazed sheepishly at the captain and immediately launched two or three killinons toward the oval hatch which slid open by command. Pentagato did nothing, for the time, and let the prince's sensor wands race through the ship toward the sound. It appeared to the hulking captain that the prince knew that the captain knew what the prince knew, and that he had not told him everything prior to the voyage. Now Pentagato was quite aware of why the mission had been planned in the way it had been by the royal family.

    Just as the killinons returned to their sheaths, the prince, so often inflated and intrusive, seemed to deflate and pancake. His normal regal stature evolved into more of a royal pudding. Pentatago moved forward and addressed his guest.

    "Sirm, may I inquire as to the source of the sound?" He already knew. "I shall have to act upon it unless I am apprised of its origin." He tried to be polite, but for a Denalona, this was quite difficult. The prince offered only one attention stalk to the captain. The others drooped self-consciously.

    "Ellitoe is with egg," he mumbled through his formal funnel, then quickly realizing that the captain would find this offensive, changed his funnels to raddion. The captain, his finey raised, lowered it slowly.

    "Sirm, could you elaborate on this development?"

    "Of course," the prince resonated in his most informal mode. "My wife is about to provide me with a son." There was a long silence. The prince was almost sheepish, and the captain was without words. He was surprised at the prince's use of the human term, son.

    "Sirm, I assume that this is a pleasant event for you and your family?" The captain bowed again trying desperately to be polite.

    "Yes, it is, but I must tell you that I did not expect this situation."

    The captain knew the prince was lying and that he knew of the impending birth before entering this ship. He attempted a light bit of Denalonian humor. "Sirm, when we have offspring, the unexpected is to be expected." A deep rumble growled about in the huge captain's interior. The prince, seeing that the crew appreciated their leader's laughter, gaped his zorin. The humor had been accepted, and a pleasant air filled the bridge.

    "Captain," the prince began, "I must tell you that this event will call for you and your crew, not to mention my staff and I, to alter our plans just a smitto." This was an understatement to the captain, who was well aware that his ship, his person and his crew were all now in imminent danger. The prince's funnels puttered about, a sign that the royal being was trying to explain something that he obviously did not want to explain.

    "You see, my wife, being with egg, will now require a zand of crollies for the next siznot." There was a long silence as the captain considered this development.

    "A zand of crollies, Sirm?" The captain's linkas rose. "I don't remember their being included in the passenger list. Perhaps, I overlooked this detail." He looked to his second in command who immediately began reviewing their records.

    "Yes. You do see how awkward this will be," the prince offered. He was so conciliatory, the captain was surprised.

    "I assume, Sirm, that if a zand of crollies were aboard, my crew would be suffering a high degree of distraction since it is their mission in life to provide the ultimate in distraction." The captain reviewed his own mental records to the time he had heard only one crolly droon in the draw of a cinty. He continued.

    "If I give the order to don gretta gear" the captain continued, "I believe we can survive the experience and not drift off into secca." He let his gaze review the reactions of his crew. They showed no emotion at all. It was possible that not one had ever heard a crolly doon.

    "Unfortunately, captain, I have no crollies at all, not to mention a zand of them." The prince shrank even further. If he kept this up, he would be flat, and a flat prince of Tippicur would truly be a terrible commodity to deal with.

    The captain considered the fact that the princess would require at least one full-featured crolly, and this was bad enough, but if the princess required a zand of crollies...he dipped a sworm and vibrated lightly even at the thought of what would happen when the princess's volitility was not reduced.

    "Sirm," he began, "We can alter our course to Simont, and surface at Cernocom. There, I am certain we can find at least a zart of crollies. Will that suffice?" the captain inquired. He pulled his rank buttons down to his bobo.

    "Any consideration on the part of you and your crew would be appreciated, but I believe we don't have enough time for that." The prince assumed his getta posture, which led the captain to believe that the next statements of the prince would be words he would not want to hear nor understand.

    At that moment, another shriek shot through the ship, and three of the ganna ports blew out and turned red. The captain eyed the event, and nodded affirmatively, then Shatta, his second in command, turned down the bello. He began to pace a few increts to each side, and the executive officer retrimmed the ship accordingly. It was unusual for a captain to move about the bridge too much, because of what effect it had on the stability of the ship and the crew. The prince made no mention of the slight bend to the deck and the slight tilt of the ship.

    "Sirm, in the event we are unable to accommodate your wife in this most modest request, what are our chances of survival, and do we have any alternatives?" The captain was most calm in the face of this impending calamity. Only once before, in recorded history did a Tippicurian princess become with egg in a ship. All hands were lost in the explosion. The captain waited for the prince's response.

    "We have no chance of survival unless we can lower her levels of farzables through some means equal to or greater than the effect of a zand of crollies." The prince got flatter; the captain got more mobile; his aggitation was becoming increasingly obvious. "Unless, captain, you upset your ship yourself," the prince offered, noting the added motion of the ship. He tried something that resembled a human smile, but the effort failed miserably, because the captain did not like humans at all, and this was a well-known fact.

    "I don't like the odds," the captain stated matter-of-factly. "Hmmmm," he began...."equal to or greater than a zand of crollies....hmmmm." The captain thought about moving again, but the frantic look on the visiotic panel of his second in command stopped him in mid fellonote. "Hmmmm," the captain continued, not moving a quarset. Shatta, normally quiet and reserved, almost unemotional, hissed lightly. Pentatago acknowledged his officer's request to communicate. Shatta suggested that they use a human female as a crolly substitute.

    The officer reminded his superior of the small collection of these beings in the brig. The captain's growl grew to unacceptable proportions as the ship began to swing and sway in its lossifery. Shatta reached out his blockers and steadied him/herself. The prince, so flat now, could not slide or move anywhere.

    Once the captain had regained his composure, he wiped away the light yellow perspiration from his hornits. "A human female?" he asked.

    Shatta conveyed his/her knowledge of humans, and was quite clear, based on historical evidence, that a human female singing placates even the most hostile creatures, including their own offspring. The captain considered this, and the prince inflated a grig or two.

    Without further ado, the captain ordered his official franlat and had his consciousness transferred, so he could negotiate his cavernous ship without disturbing its equilibrium. He would go to the cargo bay that had been elaborately decorated and equipped to accommodate the royal party. Once in the ante-chamber, outside the cargo bay, the captain settled his franlat and emitted a soryan to the princess.

    The prince, deciding tactfully to remain on the bridge, was given a franlat channel, so he could be represented to his wife. Pentatago signalled the guard to raise the bay doors and stand aside; the princess had accepted his request for a session.

    The massive doors rose into the overhead and locked into place. The captain's franlat lifted and floated into the darkened bay. In the middle, the princess sparkled beneath her light blue skin. Her sheer size dwarfed the franlat and made the captain stop. He bowed his vehicle and waited for the princess to acknowledge his presence. The prince's channel was open, and the yellow light on the panel glowed. Pentatago wanted to signal the button to close, but decided that he must leave it alone, at least for now.

    "Captain," the princess began in a soft universal voice that almost deafened the captain and guards. The readings on the link to the prince fell sharply. Various decorations fell from the inside of the ship, a dekka conduit ruptured, and a panel of twarkars shattered; the princess appologized for the damage and lowered her volume. The captain said nothing; the prince sighed.

    "First, I would like to express my personal appreciation for your accommodation to my husband and my staff. You have been quite professional, and our travel has been most enjoyable. The qualats and seenats were delicious, and I must admit, I overdid the mumpots." There was a high-pitched squeal that was not all that unpleasant. The princess had laughed. The captain waited for more ship parts to pop, but nothing gave way, and the bay remained intact.

    "I am extremely pleased to have your ampleness aboard, Princess. You are incredibly overwhelming to us all." The captain bowed his vehicle slightly, hoping that his briefing on proper protocol had been sufficient. The princess seemed pleased at his attention.

    "You are too sweet, Sirm," she offered; he accepted.

    "Princess, I and my entire crew would like to congratulate you and your husband on your offspring's impending birth. This event must have all the brillons of Tippicur in ecstacy. Long may your house be heavy and crowded with your incredible bulk." The captain moved backward a bit.

    The princess became even bigger than she was when the materiel handling equipment ached and groaned to bring her massive self into the bay. She had actually been amused by the process and seemed to enjoy it when some of the trinion cables, designed to moor ships to the docking stations, had snapped and had lowered her credenta cowls onto her husband who fell out of sight for an entire crolon while extra equipment was brought in, mounted and secured, to extricate the happless royal.

You are truly an enchanting mountain of being, the captain thought. "Thank you," mumbled the princess; the captain had forgotten to close his channel.

    "Your welcome," he offered awkwardly. He truly liked this female, even if, in a matter of crolons, she would explode into a gattak of pieces and vaporize his ship and crew. Oh, for a zand of crollies, he thought, this time with his channels closed.

    "I agree," the prince stated flatly; the captain forgot he had the prince channeled in. This was hopeless, he did not think.

    "Princess," the captain began, "I am pleased to inform you that we have a special treat for you, a treat that far outshines the moons of Pigini, the seas of Treddit, and the wails of crollies. May I present to you, Mary Jones, a human of considerable voice, for your pleasure. She, and her kind have the unique ability to simulate a crolly doon, or was it the other way around....no matter....and to lower your levels of farzable to a flattering level."

    The captain moved his vehicle to the side and made way for the human female to be brought forward. He reminded himself to reward Shatta with a porgip prima from Astaka, that is, if they ever made it out of their present dilemma.

    The princess studied the naked form before her. "Sirm, is she normally presented in this state?" the princess inquired. A shower of sensor bibbles surrounded the girl. "They usually have some sort of covering."

    The captain had no idea of how to present a human, so he winged it. "Yes, this is how a singing human is presented. In this undraped condition, she will be closer to her birth state and will doon the best. It has been proven that if you decorate them or cover their parts, they do not perform as well. It has something to do with their skins." He and the princess seemed pleased with this explanation.

    The captain thought back a few trannats when he had been presented the humans on the bridge; he had shuddered at their appearance. The female just stood and stared at the mountain of light-blue substance, sparkling and heaving before her. She had no idea of what was transpiring, because her ranges of hearing and limited mental abilities prevented this. She just stood and waited.

    The human's look of awe actually impressed the princess, who withdrew her bibbles and replaced them with a comforting wave of sonologs and a light couch. The human seemed to appreciate these accommodations and turned her facial benikker upward at each end. The princess spoke. "A smile," she stated into the captain's hearing pods. The officer was duly impressed with her knowledge of humans. She began to contort in a most pleasant way.

    The human, on the other hand, began panting and soon her skin began to glisten with liquid that began to cover her. She began to babble words and looked about her as if wanting to be free of her shackles and sit down. The princess provided a light ramp, which lit and wrapped itself about her. Her details became obscured in the light, but the princess seemed uninterested in her construction anyway.

    A sudden and unexpected shriek emitted from the mountainous being, and more interior decorations fell away. The human slumped down and was held up by the light couch only. The captain's vehicle swooned to the side and impacted a nearby bulkhead; the prince's channel closed, and the bay doors began to swing precariously. It was all too obvious that someone's farzable level was rising. The princess was much farther along in her pregnancy than originally thought. The captain did not think what he wanted to think about the prince and his astounding ability to ignore truth and timing.

    Once the environment stabilized, the captain signalled for the translating globe to convey his wishes to the female human. She waved her hands and became a bit more aware. She nodded at the globe that hastened away through the bay opening with a foop. The girl moved from the light couch and approached the princess. She put out her hand and touched her. Deep through the integument of the princess, she could see a greenish light; it was the egg.

    The girl put her face to the skin of the princess and patted it. The princess instinctively recoiled, but the girl's repeated tender touch, rendered her harmless. In soft tones, the girl began to hum a pleasant sound, and let it drift through the massive compartment. The combination of the soft voice and echoeing responses created a three-dimensional atmosphere of delightful sound. The princess did not react immediately, and her sparkling continued, until a few lattists later, she began to change color. The doon was working.

    The prince, banging his way through the clogged channel, eventually regained his sight and ability to communicate. He was astounded, not only at the obvious lowering of his wife's critical chemicals, but the pleasantness of the sounds he heard; it was a most unusual but capturing doon. Quickly he conveyed his pleasure, and was slapped silent by a series of buffo waves from his wife. He apologized, but his mumblings fell on deaf prattnots. The princess was relaxing, and the egg began to return to its soft orange color.

    Soon, the entire ship was at peace; there was not a creature awake. Only the automatic systems were running. Mary Jones continued to doon into the channel prootah she had wrenched from the captain's vehicle which now lay cocked against a far wall. She moved about, up and down the corridors of the ship, until she had freed all the other humans. They moved silently along the cold halls until they came to the bay containing their captured vessel. The array of guards were lying about stroking their toopies; their eyelins were aglaze from the dooning. For all intents, all members of the ship had been rendered useless to themselves or anyone else.

    Once inside, Bob Peterson, turned on the communications systems and linked them with their captor's through the prootah. Mary continued to doon until Bob ignited their propulsion system and blew out the outer doors. As the little ship disappeared among the stars, Bob turned off the communications system and waited. In the distance, so far behind them, a cosmic flash occurred as Ellitoe's egg was breached, and a new prince was born. Mary, now dressed in her uniform, moved to the log book and began to write the newest entry.

 

DATE: 2005004.4.4.4.1, Mission successful. Agent Gravitinit and his staff destroyed. Regret loss of ship with all hands. Prince safe in orbit about Cronatin. Retrieve at your convenience. Area politically stable. She placed her initials then her name, rank and serial number.....Mary Jones, Commander, USS Pranick, AF990887earth.

 

NOTE: Access X14 files on effect of particular sequences of melodious notes on strategic crews of Palanon Empire ships; see DOONING.

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