The Adventures of Deacon Coombs
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Authors: Ambit Welder
The Adventures of
Deacon Coombs
The Case of the Vanishing Vesper
Ambit Welder
iUniverse LLC
Bloomington
The Adventures of Deacon Coombs
The Case of the Vanishing Vesper
Copyright © 2013 by Ambit Welder.
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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
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ISBN: 978-1-4917-0560-5 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-4917-0561-2 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-4917-0562-9 (e)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2013917959
iUniverse rev. date: 10/31/2013
Contents
“Imagine the shock when Earth and its galactic allies finally come to the realization of the destructive power I hold and of the devastation I intend to unleash. All those years of evolution and peace wasted. In Earth years, it is 3533, I believe.”
“Yes, Master.”
Copernicus, Kepler, and Galileo first unlocked the significance of the heavens. Kepler was branded a heretic for suggesting that man’s habitat was not the center of all creation. However, life on Earth survived this shock of discovering that our tiny planet orbited a sun, in a galaxy of suns, in a universe of countless galaxies, where many life forms abounded and where the hunger to travel deeper and deeper into the unknown grew and grew.
Jurgen Peeters first claimed contact with aliens, but subsequent attempts failed as governments grew weary of his claim. Years after Peeters died in persecution, messages were decoded—contact with alien life forms.
Nearly six hundred years after Jurgen Peeters had first spoken to the Aralians, Earth was admitted to the Tetrad Alliance—“Tetrad” referring to the four star systems in which known life existed. Earth’s sun was known as Solus. The sun Proximus had two inhabitable planets: Zentaur, the watery habitat of aggressive, scaly, reptilian creatures; and Jabu, a desert planet with a paucity of water. The other two stars were the double star Alpha-Beta Centauri and Barnard’s Star. The Alpha-Beta Centauri system was dated as having the oldest life in known worlds.
Earth and Barnard’s Planet were the novices as recent admissions. With newfound friends for Earth, interplanetary trade was established, including the acquisition of Vespering, the technology of interspace travel perfected by the Aralian innovator Luuqus Vesper, who, like Kepler and Peeters, died with his dream.
By the year 3200, Earth had bonded with her allies and found peace in new friends. Earth’s ships were admitted to the Union of Space Traders, and Vesper stations were erected on Earth’s moon. The grand accomplishments of the Alliance were obvious: space travel, space trade, and, foremost, friendship and peace.
In the year 3533, an Earthman, Landrew of Niger, was elected as the high ruler of the High Council of the Tetrad Alliance. Landrew was the first Earth species to hold such high honor. But Landrew and his people would soon have to confront the supreme challenge. It would commence as a series of seemingly unconnected events in the fourth year of Landrew’s reign. It would rise to threaten space trade and then jeopardize the existence of mankind wherever they dwell, until eventually it would lead an innocent Earthling, Deacon Coombs, into the depths of mind and space to confront an unleashed terror witnessed before only in the nightmares of mankind.
“You can trust me. I understand our mission.”
The sinister creature towered over him and replied, “Yes, I know that.”
“Forgive me, but I feel uncomfortable residing in your space. Do you have any more orders at this time?”
“No.” The black-hooded evil glared down at him. “I sense you wish to pose a question about me.”
“Yes.” He felt afraid to inquire but did so as he wiped his sweaty palms on his shirt. “Where did you come from? Which part of our galaxy, or universe? Where does your kind dwell?”
The creature stood taller, the gaze of its two piercing, glowing yellow eyes impaling the servant below. “It is of no concern to you where I came from.” The voice was intimidating.
“Can I ask, please, respectfully, why you do not come in peace? Why does your alien race wish to bring death and destruction and annihilation to the alliance of mankind? And why do you carry the venom and hatred of Earthlings?”
The response was shrill. “You will have many rewards for obeying and following me. It is not your business to question me. It is not your concern to know why bloodshed and chaos must absolutely be forged in the path to victory.” The voice expressed anger and irritation. “It is not your concern to understand my ultimate motives. They are completely justified, as you will eventually learn. You do realize what happened to infidels before you?”
The servant stood at attention. “Yes, my Lord. I heard you twisted their minds. You used your powers to render them mentally insane.” There was an ominous silence as he recalled the dementia.
The diabolic being now rose to enhance the fear that his follower felt. “It is time. The campaign to assault those I despise has arrived. You will hear of my first triumphs very soon, and when you do, I hope you will feel the elation and confidence of our mission.”
“Yes, Lord. I am truly ready to serve.”
“Death is also a solution for disobedience and betrayal.” The being glanced at the mutilated body of the Jabu warrior beside him, the purple plasma still oozing out of the wounds in the torso.
“Yes, Master.” He bowed his head rather than look into those mesmerizing eyes as his lord spoke again. “I must go. My destiny and the misfortune of all mankind are awaiting me.”
“Yes, my Lord.” The space was suddenly empty; the creature had fled. He breathed a sigh of relief and then felt a swell of confidence as he thought of his future promised powers and the important role he would play in the new order that the being would establish. He did feel a moment of remorse for all the friendships that would be destroyed. But only a moment.
At the Jabu Vesper station
“Quobit!” said Maretz. “You missed an opportunity to navigate the next ship into the disc! You younger generation! I never missed a chance to outsmart the storms!” Maretz had just arrived on the deck of the control tower, where Quobit was focused on the chaos before her. She resented Maretz’s comment and crafted a reply.
“Excuse me, Maretz, but the risk is too great. Severe electrical storms have been disrupting the normal flow of space traffic all during my shift. Just before you arrived, I attempted to guide the next in line to the alternate Vesper station on the third moon, but I was unsuccessful. The situation is too dangerous to execute arrivals and departures. Have you not been following the intensity of this ion storm?”
Maretz was blunt. “Of course I have. As senior engineer and today’s traffic director, it is my duty. However, look at the consequences. Departing freighters are now lined up twenty deep. Remove yourself from the chair and give me the controls.”
“I must exercise what I have learned at the academy, Maretz, which is not to take chances and gamble with human lives. With experience I shall become as proficient as you, but for now, our instructors direct new graduates to err on safety’s side. Tempers are flaring as ships awaiting final instructions to enter the Vesper disc are doubly delayed by the fifth departing merchant vessel, which has unexpectedly lost power. You are distracting me. I must communicate with them.” She turned away from him and tossed her full head of fiery red hair behind her.
Presiding over operations, the tall Jabu engineer now eyed the sight before her. A stream of ships, lit up in the respective colors of their homelands, stretched out toward the dusty orange planet of Jabu, all awaiting instructions to enter the Vesper disc to travel elsewhere. From childhood, when she had peered into the heavens, she had dreamed of the moment when she would direct traffic at a Vesper station. Her only regret was that Maretz had been assigned as her mentor.
She spied the vessel from Earth and then thought to herself how Vespering had been perfected before the first appearance of man on Earth, just as new electrical flares from the storm lit up the disc and the control center. While the ions flashed in blue stabs, she pondered back to school days when she had first read in her engineering textbook, “A system of trial and error had sacrificed the lives of innocent space pioneers, all of them Aralians. They misunderstood the risks of Vespering; they did not comprehend their chances to meet death. Dismembered or disfigured bodies too frequently assembled at the first primitive relay stations.”
Her thoughts were interrupted as Maretz complained. “What are you thinking about now?”
“Just reminiscing on how this process of Vespering has become an infallible everyday procedure, sir.”
Maretz had an unusually deep, throaty voice. “Let’s keep it that way. That’s our sacred responsibility. I have never, in my numerous years at these stations, tired of this spectacular sight before me. In our technology, in this enormous disc, we hold the power of shaping the history of the galaxy with every execution of duty. We hold the power of Vespering. Look at that Earth vessel. In their measurements, this disc is two thousand feet long, nearly nine hundred feet deep. Look, an opportunity! Quickly position the orange and blue thorbee ion particles around the periphery, Quobit. Observe the monitor as the storm is decreasing in intensity.”
“Yes, Maretz, I observe the quietude in the signal. You need not remind me of my duties. I know the drill implicitly.”
“Then pay attention and carry them out.” Maretz scratched his foot-long earlobe, held taut by a bulky black earring.
Quobit, with Maretz leaning over her shoulder, continued to listen to the captain’s orders; then she slowly commenced to guide the Earth ship into position as all the precautions were checked to lessen the shock of cellular demolecularization. Maretz whispered, “Even with this scientific technology and modern drug advancement, the life spans of Earthlings are shortened by the biological shock of Vespering. To a nine-hundred-year-old Guillianan, the effects remain inconsequential; to an Earthling, the robbery of life is a disincentive to Vesper.”
“Quiet. You are distracting me, Maretz.” Maretz fell silent but appreciated the pleasing wafts of aroma from Quobit’s hair, recognizing the fragrance of her desert tribe.
The procedure was instantaneous. Quobit watched on her screen as the ship dematerialized to energy, the translucent, frozen white figures suspended inside the ship. Then she threw the frenzied blue and orange thorbee ionic rays into the disc to envelop the package before dispensing the fuzzy beam on its way across the galaxy on a voyage faster than the speed of light, the beam propelled by Vesper particles. Maretz stood behind her at attention, checking her process. “Perfect. Five point five seven from the time you unleashed the energy to the time of departure from the station. You are a credit to our profession, Quobit. I have served you well as mentor.”
Maretz eyed her and mused about her. Quobit was very representative of the female species of her tribe—tall, lacking any substantial fleshy parts, her body best described in the literature as nodose. The protrusions of bony material bulging out under her tough tan skin gave the guise of undernourishment to the eye of any foreigner. Females on Jabu required little daily sustenance to survive. However, Quobit’s head was uncommonly large for her sinewy six-foot-eight body’s frame. Most prominent was her square, protruding forehead, characteristic of all Jabu, which extended above two deep-set ebony eyes. Before her next task, she flexed all of her four arm joints. Then Maretz, in a gesture of what he thought to be respect, rubbed one of his large, bony elbows against one of hers.
Quobit bristled. “I suggest you control your urge to rub, Maretz. I am best noted for my athletic ability, a necessity to survive in the harsh desert climate of Jabu, where I originate from, where a daily battle is waged against nature for land, food, and water. I don’t wish to demonstrate my prowess to you. You may outweigh me substantially, but I am a match for you. No disrespect intended, but rubbing by the desert peoples has a different inference than rubbing by metromen like you. You may recall my athleticism has won me awards at the physical tribal games.”
Maretz’s stocky frame backed away. Then he used his authority to order her out of the control center, seating himself in the command chair and flipping his protective visors down to prepare for the next Vesper, an Aralian freighter bound for its home planet, Aralia. “Perhaps you read my dissertation while training, Quobit, where I captured the Jabu passion for the engineering of Vespering. While seemingly a monotonous vocation to most races, we the Jabu carry a penchant for intricate detail and are compensated handsomely by the Alliance to treat each Vesper as the last—no room for human error, and punishable by death under the Vesper laws of Jabu for blatant mistakes. Thus, we Jabu engineers are recruited at Vesper stations around the galaxy.”
Quobit was irritated because Maretz was violating a golden rule—that Jabu engineers be silent while conducting the process of Vespering. She decided not to remind him but instead checked the results as the beam engulfed the Aralian frigate and the ship departed as a taut beam into space.
“Six point six three, Maretz. You are slipping. That performance doesn’t deserve a rub. You’d best watch my techniques.”
She was kidding him, so he turned and frowned at her. Now the third freighter in line entered the disc, as the ion storm seemed to have dissipated. Quobit resumed her position to maneuver the ship to the proper position by quickly filching the controls from Maretz and sitting in the oversized pivoting chair.
At the Aralian Vesper station
“What is that statue?” the junior engineer inquired.
“It pays direct tribute to all those who sacrificed their lives to make Vespering an indefectible process, to remind those who engage in duty today of this fact. Many a beam missed its target in the early days of Vespering. Read the inscription while I set up.”
He stood in front of the sculpture and read. “Where are they now? Where are those Aralian souls who travel eternally as pure energy out of bounds of the Alliance?” Behind him there was a noisy commotion, as a senior instructor had just arrived and was addressing potential new recruits. He knew he must not be caught being distracted by the scene, but he listened to the instructor’s comments.
“This station is one of the original six Vespering stations installed in the Alliance, having logged over four plentha entries since inception. The width of the bowl takes into account even the greatest error in coordinates and transmission. For sure the calculation of error will be one of the questions on your final trials. Ah, we have an incoming ship. Move closer to observe, but please remain away from the engineer’s guide pod and place your visors over your eyes!”
The students stood at attention, mesmerized as a thin red veil sailed over the top of the disc, warning outbound ships of incoming traffic. In the distance beyond the bowl, the students observed the blue-white frozen land of Aralia. Aralians were well adapted to the environment of extreme bitter cold, and the cold air inside the Vesper station reflected the temperature of their habitat. Aralians were diminutive in stature, fleshy, covered in white fur, standing on average at five foot six on the bare-boned bottoms of their feet.
The beam carrying the first ship from Jabu arrived. In less than ten seconds, the apparition was being metamorphosed back to steel and flesh. The instructor directed their attention. “Look! The ions are aligning on the outside of the disc; soon the final rematerialization will be complete and this crew will signal greetings to the Aralian engineers.” The Aralian engineer returned a welcome of “Villya” and then activated the warning system in preparation for the arrival of a second ship.
The instructor continued. “Evolution has provided Aralians with a graceful, calm composure during periods of stress.” The Aralian engineer checked and calculated the estimated arrival time of the second ship. Curiously, the ship was overdue. “There must be an error in our calculations; perhaps even erroneous data dispatched from Jabu. No arrival. No signal of an incoming vessel.” With the vessel now grossly overdue, the senior engineer said, “Alert the signalmen to scan the magnetic outposts.” In a rare moment of Aralian frenzy, ten engineers now huddled, yammered, scurried about, and then cursed the instruments as the new recruits remained amused. Reminiscent of a flock of irate penguins, the furry, squat bodies paced and deliberated in noisy, cackling voices.
Their debate was intruded by signals indicating a new arrival. Silence gripped the crowd. All eyes focused on the red sheet covering the disc. The beam entered, and the ionized package held at the top of the bowl and then gradually lowered and reassembled. The Aralians cheered until they discovered the true identity of this vessel. This was a different ship bound for Aralia, inbound from Glossis. A message was dispatched to Jabu by a Vesper wave: “Crisis: Aralian trade ship
Sleigher
did not reach Aralian Vesper station. Please confirm departure time and route.”
A probe was dispatched to seek out vapor trails of
Sleigher
from Jabu. Meanwhile, engineers at both stations played an uneasy waiting game. The investigation determined that the beam had simply vanished. Somewhere, impossibly, in the millions of distant, lonely light-years between Jabu and Aralia, the trade ship
Sleigher
traveled aimlessly, the victim of a perfect process.
On the planet of Aralia
The temperature was twenty degrees below zero, wind gusts driving it lower. Falling snowflakes shimmered in the purple rays of light cast on the governor’s palace. Inside, the revered statesman Como rehearsed his speech; outside, the crowd swelled in anticipation of hearing their beloved Como. Few would miss his oration, which would be broadcast live into every home on this frigid evening on Aralia, where the nearest sun, Alpha Centauri, was 150 million miles distant, and Beta Centauri only a glimmer at this time of year.
The Aralians, camped in front of the majestic massive stone structure, were huddled close together. Their shiny, soft white fur, which prevented heat loss, covered their entire body except for their bare feet and powerful lower legs. The first reports ever written on Earth describing Aralians noted that they resembled shaggy dogs found on Earth, because of their small, pointed snouts and beady red eyes. The females had significant white hair growth on their faces, while the males had tough, exposed scaly cheeks.
The glossy bottoms of their feet allowed Aralians to glide at high speeds over the icy and snowy surfaces on Aralia. These nude soles were more effective than the best waxed skis of Earth, while their long, awkward limbs served to steer the body by shifting their weight to and fro. Aralians continued to propel themselves into position in the winter wonderland in front of the palace grounds to pay homage to their leader, Como.
More of the crowd assembled toward a specially installed viewing screen that was currently broadcasting the feats of Como over the background music of the national anthem. The biography recalled how the young general had proved his value to his homeland by saving them from the tyrannical clutches of the planet Zublear.
Aralians reached a crescendo with their yowling and fussing as they witnessed footage of Como trading the safety of Aralian lives for valuable Aralian ores to be shipped to Zublear. Aralia would lose income but be allowed to retain the continuance of their precious individual pursuits. Several years later, as deadly bacteria encompassed Zublear, Como silenced his critics as he delivered the antidote to Zublear in return for an end to the exportation of valuable ore shipments and the cessation of Zublearian military strikes. Both nations praised his efforts. The assembly knew this tale but enjoyed revisiting the heroics of Como.
The protruding balcony from which Como would sermonize tonight was adorned in brilliant crimson and malachite—the colors of Aralia. It was situated on the third floor of the elongated, silky, blue palatial hall, halfway down the rectangular square that comfortably held seventy thousand Aralians.