The Adventures of Deacon Coombs (19 page)

Deacon felt glacial. “My help? Such a twist of fate. I am employed by the Alliance. Now you offer me employment with the traders?”

“No. You are commissioned by the Alliance to investigate matters of universal disturbance. Travers knows the shortest path to the truth. Join us and discover it.”

While Chubby continued with his logic, Deacon decided to read Travers’s mind. His thoughts were gibberish; it was difficult to determine what ailed him through his pangs of depression.

“Chubby, I cannot work for both sides. That is illogical.”

“On Earth you have a saying that a man is innocent until proven guilty. Are you looking for the facts to convict Travers, or are you investigating this case unbiased to arrive at an unprejudiced decision?”

“The prosecution prepares its case against the accused, and I am employed by the prosecution. That is the employment that I have accepted.”

“Then I put it to you again, Coombs. Can you not allow Travers to present his evidence to you? To enable you to judge him?”

The room filled with the scent of burning waxes, released by orange and red flames. Deacon turned to see Chubby taking a notebook out of a pouch. In it were small sketches in crayon. As Deacon stared at it, strong vibrations bombarded Deacon’s mind as if Travers were trying to communicate with him.

“To begin with,” Chubby said as he shuffled closer to Deacon, “it is necessary to go back six years ago. Since Travers has difficulty explaining the tale, I will assist him.”

“I object,” said Deacon, “for I have been sent here to interrogate Travers.” Chubby refuted, waved his arms, and ignored Deacon’s plea. Deacon sized up the paunchy man called Chubby. His eyes, like all Aralians’, were hidden in a poorly combed explosion of white hair. His hands moved freely to and fro, gesticulating on cue with every word. A furry pot belly hung out over the cloth of his lower torso. Chubby’s voice sounded as one of a great teller of tales, accenting key words for the effect of overtures, an actor overplaying his role.

His attention turned now to Travers. There was little flesh on his bones; his skinny arms and legs stayed clasped by his side. Travers’s sorrowful beet-red eyes once again gazed upon Deacon. Chubby was ready to recite the tale. Deacon finally nodded to agree, and he then sat back and relaxed, sipping his drink.
If
only
Landrew
could
see
me
now!
he thought.

Into the
Intriguing Web

Court in session

“Before we commence,” said Deacon, “may I inquire what your intentions were with me, if your men had captured me in the city?”

Chubby replied with enthusiasm. “Why, to bring you back here to this place to force you to listen to Travers’s tale.”

“And what changed your mind to make you think that I would come peaceably?”

“Time.”

“Time?”

“Yes. You provided us the time to complete the research on your character. Travers and I decided that you would reason to accept our invitation. Our investigation illustrated integrity, curiosity, and a quest for justice. In short, we trust you.”

That was the cue for Deacon to burst out in exchange with “And I trust you.” But he remained silent, not providing them the satisfaction.
And
how
many
others
have
heard
the
tale?
he wondered. He deferred to ask. Chubby, meanwhile, uncomfortable in the quiescence, began the tale, starting with the story of the trading ship of six years ago that was forced out of the demarcated trading routes. The disabled vessel, powerless in the proximity of fierce electrical storms, glided through great dust clouds to encounter and land on a planet called Nix. Chubby described in detail much of what Deacon had witnessed in the library tape on Earth with Landrew. Travers sat silently verifying Chubby’s tale with a frequent curt, stuttered acknowledgment.

“Your detail might infer that you were on that voyage.”

“I only quote Travers. He documented this incident very well.” Chubby placed a monitor in Deacon’s lap.

“A fright-t-t… ful experience to see a world so h-h-h-harsh.”

“The Alliance informed me of this incident but said that the members of this expedition had received a rehabilitation of the mind and were injected with some mild mind-altering drug to erase what they witnessed.”

“Travers is and always will be a loyal member to the Alliance,” Chubby said boastfully. “His family is well respected. There was no need to brainwash him.”

“I witnessed tapes of Nix that you created. It must have been a shocking experience.” Travers affirmed this by bobbing his head up and down. Chubby waited until Travers had completed his gestures. Deacon then entered Travers’s mind, shifting gears as Lyanna had taught him. Deacon already possessed an element of fear, but he shivered as terror lunged back into his mind. Discrete thoughts were almost impossible to decipher, but it was the total pattern that seized his brain with a surge of horror.

As he cringed, the paralyzing trance of fear was broken as Chubby shook his arm. “Has the tea had disagreed with you?”

“No. Um, please continue.”

Chubby Eaves started speaking again. “Now let me address the rebellious incidents that have occurred during Travers’s reign. There have been incited riots, smuggling of arms and drugs, the underground black market, and the holding of goods for ransom. Aralians, by our honest nature, do not participate in such activities, so it is no surprise that all the culprits to date have been non-Aralians. We will lay open our records to you at the Trade Union Headquarters when you return to Inglessis. You and your Owlers can scrutinize to your content.”

Deacon felt suddenly comforted by the words “when you return to Inglessis.” But what game were they playing?

“The one reason the headquarters of the trade union has been located on Aralia is to preserve the truthful documentation of the history of the trade union. An Aralian has on numerous occasions served as head of this union. We make judicious leaders, you know.”

“You do not have to convince me of the truthful nature of Aralians, just the innocence of one Aralian, known as Travers.”

Chubby raised his voice. “We all have tried hard to put an end to these disgraceful events. The criminals are usually dealt with from the inside; that is, we deal out selective punishment from within the trade union. In recent times our investigations and policing have failed us. I omit the deaths of Geor and Como, since Travers and I know not the details of these. This was not of our doing.”

“Then by your omission I should presume innocence?”

Chubby ignored the comment. Instead he plowed on by elaborating on the self-policing system and how punishments were determined. Then he described each of the infractions, stating how each one had been dealt with by the union. “The charges against Travers caught us by surprise; the verdict did not.”

Something was drastically wrong. Why had this vendetta been launched by the Alliance against Travers? Or was Deacon being brainwashed? Manipulated? He catapulted a second sortie into Travers’s mind, but it failed to connect. The dark black walls now shimmered in the pink glow of high, flickering flames as Chubby added wax fuel to the fire. Deacon hoped that the burning waxes were not placing him under a trance. Chubby said, “Travers must take responsibility for these irresponsible actions of traders. On that we agree. However, the burden of the trial and his journey to Nix has taken its toll on his health, as you can witness. We cannot turn him over to authorities until his health recovers.”

“Tell me about the disappearance of the
Sleigher
.” Deacon was anxious to hear about this rather than past treasonable events.

Chubby inhaled and then sighed. “The
Sleigher
and her crew were taken on a torturous journey. Travers is the only sane member who can relate the incident. Even to him, the events are blurry.”

“That’ssssactly what it was like—a d-d-d… dream. I remember the d-d-disc at… Jabu. The neckst thing, I was back at Aralia. Most of that journey is a bu-bu-bu-blur. Though I ‘member a derreem. Bad derrrr… eam.”

“What do you remember of this blurred dream?”

Chubby spoke for him. “Travers remembers visiting Nix, but it was different than the first accidental trip. The inhabitants, according to his memory, were more organized into tribes. They were also armed, as was captured in the footage. That footage also vividly portrays their raw savageness.

“Travers remembers wandering aimlessly alone, in search of his crew. When he finally located them, they were wild-eyed, crazy. He tried to reason with them; then he heard an eerie, piercing laugh that numbed his body. It spoke to him, but he cannot recall the words. The dream repeated itself over and over until he awakened at the Vesper station. It is all in the report that I gave you. Please, Mister Coombs, examine this report as truth.”

“Was there anything else different about Nix?”

“Mister Coombs, to Travers the trip to Nix was only a dream until we discovered the tape and realized that he and the others had physically journeyed there. Surely Landrew briefed you on the existence of this tape.”

While Chubby was occupied with elaboration of the tape, Deacon blanked out everything to concentrate on Travers. Suddenly he found Travers walking endlessly, searching for his crew amid the omnipresent stench. He was now reading him easily. Travers’s thoughts were in sync with Chubby’s recital. The landscape was barren of vegetation with few permanent streams. Everywhere he turned were throngs of disgusting beings. No soil had developed, leaving a savage, rocky landscape to traverse—an arduous feat for a bare bone–footed Aralian. The feel of stabbing rocks cut into his bones like red-hot irons, and Deacon experienced this sensation as Travers relived it. The natives began to mock Travers, taunting him as he searched desperately for his crew. He came upon a group in prayer and watched them as they worked themselves into a frenzy with chants that forced him to flee. Deacon felt his despair.

“Deacon, are you ill again?” Chubby asked, disturbing the trance.

“No, just tired. Please continue. I want to know how you rescued Travers from the hospital in Froora.”

“Oh, we were afraid that he would be sent to the hospital on Brebouillis, never to be seen again, for the security there is beyond our best rescue efforts. So I gambled at Froora.”

“Gambled?”

“Let me only say that we have comrades in Froora, and Travers, well, he does have the ability to plant thoughts in other’s minds. We were lucky to catch a shift change where there were no Owlers on duty in his hallway. If you wish, I shall detail the escape in notes for you.”

“Thanks. I would like to have the details and the names of the individuals who assisted in the escape. How do you know that Travers is safe here?”

Chubby opened his arms wide. “These caves are proximal to his hometown, where the people don’t believe the conspiracy charges. The caves are isolated at this time of year, difficult to find. The insulation prevents penetration by voice decoders and scanners. Avalanches are very frequent, and intruders are few. None get by our posted sentries.”

“Did your sentries set off the avalanche?”

“Yes, a necessary precaution.”

“And the fate of the sled behind us?”

“It was unharmed but could not pass. This precaution would not have been necessary had you kept your word to journey alone.”

“The instructions were not to lead a posse here, but to follow the Owlers’ prime directive—to ensure my safety.”

“Explanation accepted. Deacon, you see beside you a part of the tale that the Alliance is not in possession of at this time. Travers has prematurely aged—the stuttering, the loss of hair, the withering of the skin, and the deterioration of the bones of the feet. He looks much different than when he was last seen at the hospital.”

“Yes, I noticed. What has caused this?”

Chubby was adamant. “The strenuous trip to Nix. Travers experiences mental lapses too. You must help us, Deacon Coombs. The four other executives of the Union of Space Traders arrive within hours, and I want to assure them that you are investigating the incidents with an open mind. I want to assure them that you will not pass judgment on Travers until you have personally examined the facts.”

Deacon thought to himself how he had graduated from pawn and spy of the Alliance to respected servant of the traders’ union. Was this progress or betrayal?

Chubby extended the plea. “You have top-notch Owlers as security. You have a free passport to travel to wherever you desire. You must relay any information discovered about the deaths of Como and Geor to us. The trade union can help you. If you and I and Travers combine our forces and pool our knowledge, we can catch the devil who is behind these ails. Of this I am sure.” Chubby leaned over to grip him on his arm. “Of this we are sure.”

Deacon refused to be intimidated. “The information that I gather is for my discretion only. I don’t report to you.”

“Then do yourself the biggest favor you can.”

“What?”

“Take Travers back to Nix!”

“What!?”

“You must discover what happened there. What happened to age the crew? How was the
Sleigher
diverted there? He longs to return but can’t with security so tight. You, Deacon Coombs, can arrange it.”

“Absurd. And how do you know that I journey there?”

“Where else could Landrew point you? Where else could we point you?” He leaned into Deacon and whispered, “The devil lives there! I swear it.”

Deacon grew impatient with references to the devil. “The answer lies here, with Travers. I wish to interrogate him alone, for he alone holds the key to my next destination. Many questions remained unanswered.”

“Escort him to Nix and you will have your answers, Coombs. You have the only vessel with clearance to Nix in the Alliance! All others will be denied.”

“Chubby, even if I agree, I cannot get Travers through security.”

“Yes, you can! Alliance security forces look for a sturdy Aralian, not a withered, skinny weakling such as Travers. The only recent transmissions of Travers still show him as vigorous and sturdy. This aging happened after his escape from the hospital, as I said.”

“We may not travel to Nix,” said Deacon.

“Then you make a tragic mistake. The devil is there.” Chubby arose. “You must go there. You must! Without you witnessing this monster in the flesh, Travers will have no credibility with the High Council, and the High Council will have no proof of its existence.” Chubby waved his index finger at him. “We know this monster lives there.”

“Chubby, there is no devil in the flesh. I grow tired of your references to some… some… some devil.”

Chubby grew animated. “Listen, Coombs! Aralians do not commit suicide, so Como did not. He was murdered in cold blood, as you say on Earth. There was on this planet that night a blackness of the heart that Aralians have never felt before. Our spirits were collectively suppressed and shattered. Como was murdered. That is the opinion of Landrew, Travers, Chubby Eaves, Dreveney, I’obo—all Aralians. Oh yes, I know that I’obo assists you. I know of your visit to his abode. I swear the answer is on Nix, Deacon. Listen to me.”

“And how do you know? Tell me.”

“Travers knows. He told me when he recited his dream, only it is not a dream. Only you have the clearance to voyage there. I beg of you, for the safety of all mankind, take Travers there. It was there that he met up with his worst nightmare. Please, Deacon.” Chubby was shaking. “You must believe me that this thing murdered our Como.”

“Can the computer recall the exact coordinates of his landing sites?”

“Yes, they are logged.”

“I will consider your request but require some answers first.” Deacon was growing fearful. How much of this conversation was being controlled by Travers?

His fear turned into shock when Travers read his mind and then leaned over to whisper in his ear, “None of ittt. I don’t control yuuuu… you.” Deacon motioned to Chubby to exit.

“I will question Travers alone.”

“No. I shall remain. I am Travers’s most trusted advisor, and Travers finds it painful to speak with his affliction. Surely you must feel his pain.”

“Then any dealings with you and Travers are terminated.”

“You must allow me to remain,” said Chubby. “I must remind you that your safe return can only be guaranteed by me.”

“Are you threatening me, Chubby? That would be out of character for an Aralian. Good bluff. But I will take my chances that traders do not employ murder. I believe that you will guarantee my safe return since, as you stated earlier, I am the only ticket to Nix and you promised to lay open your trading records to me and the Owlers. I also have you to thank for sparing my Owler from the avalanche. You demonstrated compassion.”