The Adventures of Deacon Coombs (26 page)

Into the Lair

Ascending

Deacon assessed the situation. An open route lay from the base of the plains to the location the savage was directing them toward. In the darkness of the plains below, the random motions of torches crisscrossed. Up the slope lay the meaning of the word
Urzel
. Deacon motioned to Jim and Gem to urge the native onto his feet. Onward they pressed, navigating oddly shaped boulders, climbing a treacherous rocky path to the summit some one thousand feet above them in elevation. While Deacon and Travers requested rest stops, Quobit was physically fit for the ascents and thus moved out in front to scout the most ideal path. Once they were within proximity, the Nicosian was gagged by Jim to prevent outbursts of yelling that could give their presence away and to lessen the resistance of the being to their commands.

Deacon presented the hood to the creature every twenty minutes to check their course. Every time, the Nicosian performed the identical ritual of spreading his arms and pointing to the summit. As they scaled the cliff, the loose talus continued to test their tolerance. The uncompacted chips provided many an opportunity to slide backward, and Travers tumbled twice. At each step, abundant pieces toppled down the slope, the sound of the sloughing causing Jim and Gem to pause and observe and monitor any intrusions into their near space.

“Master,” said Gem, “nearest beings are over two thousand feet distant on the plains below. The summit we seek appears to be devoid of life.” Suddenly Gem slipped, the Owler pulling the weary Nicosian down with him. Deacon prayed to reach the destination soon, before any damage to the Owlers was incurred, before Travers expended all his energy, and before he himself fell from his exhaustion. His knee joints ached; his neck was throbbing. Quobit, meanwhile, was out of their sight.

Finally, Quobit signaled them; a wide ledge was reached about a third of the way up to the apex. The Nicosian, although drugged, became paranoid, breaking into a frantic tirade, jumping up and down, constantly searching in all directions, startling Travers with its ravings. Deacon ordered Gem to subdue the creature by stunning it and then placing the body in a corner where cuffs could be affixed to a large boulder to secure it. Then they set out to inspect the premises.

On the rim

Quobit waved to Deacon. “Look over here. I counted them. There are fifty large torches ensconced at the lip of the ledge, with hundreds of further torches hanging against the cliff face at the back,” she said as she turned around to direct Deacon’s attention to the facing.

Deacon paced off the dimensions. “Gem, please record that the ledge is about three hundred feet long with a width of about sixty feet.”

The Jabu agreed. “The floor and background appear as smooth rock faces, obviously polished. Deacon, someone has gone to a great deal of trouble to polish these faces.”

Deacon teetered at the edge with Travers. The front ended abruptly, with a sheer cliff dropping about four hundred feet to a talus-laden slope that tapered to the plains below. “Have you been here before, my friend?” Deacon asked. Travers was silent as he shook his head. “Jim, Gem—please scout the ledge to find any evidence of the inhabitants who could have come here, polished these surfaces, and installed this torch system.”

Jim moved quickly to sample the material of the torches and their residues, and then he reported. “Master, the torches are all manufactured of a synthetic substance easily ignited by laser fire; the materials are manufactured on at least six planets. The ashes have been swept into piles at the ends of the ledge”—he pointed—“to keep the polished surfaces clean.”

Quobit was busy looking through her televiewer to survey the situation below. Lines of Nicosians were forming to conduct another gruesome sortie, attracting attention as the noise level swelled. Deacon moved to stand beside Quobit and Travers at the lip of the precipice.

Suddenly, Deacon was stupefied. “From this overhang, one possesses a commanding view of the plains below, dark as it is. Volcanoes, miles distant, on the far side of the plains, are visible because of the slow expulsion of glowing, ropy orange lava. With the din on the plains in crescendo, and the savages engaged there, I feel that we are safe in this location while the conflict rages below.” He left Travers to help Gem sample the back facing.

“Master, this facing has been treated with arsenic pigmentations in fluorescent paints. Also present are yttrium and flaurium.”

Deacon felt the velvety texture. “In other words, Gem, this backdrop will radiate brilliantly when the torches are lit.”

“Yes. The chemicals are administered in concentrated doses, so this wall will make use of the light from the torches to become ablaze in gold and yellow.”

“Of course,” Deacon said as he felt the smooth texture and then moved again to the lip of the overhang. Gem inspected the ends of the ledge, drawing Deacon’s attention to a wrinkle in the facing that turned out to be a small crevice. Two steps in, they found themselves in a narrow, elongated cave. Deacon’s curiosity was piqued, so he hailed Jim and Quobit. “Gem and I will investigate this cave. Jim, if the creature becomes conscious, you had best put him into a sleep again. If there is any sign of danger, signal Gem.” Then he saw Travers. He appeared to be under a trance, wobbling around the edge of the ledge, staring back with misty eyes. “Quobit, keep a close vigil on Travers. Don’t allow him to venture too close to the cliff’s edge.”

His adrenaline pumping, Deacon followed Gem into the fissure. Once they were inside, a warm, humid breeze blew up from the pit into their faces. Gem lit up like a Christmas tree to show the way forward, a red beacon on top casting light in all directions, and white lights on the tips of each finger defining the path in front. There were no markings in this cave, no signs of life. The floor was well traveled, but there were no soft spots where footprints could be observed.

The floor sloped downward, gradually widening from the narrow entrance to over thirty feet as they continued to descend. As the pair entered a large circular cavern, small furry animals squealed as they scurried in hasty retreat from the lights. A slithering eel-like animal cast an ominous look toward Deacon before disappearing into a crack in the floor. Gem’s legs expanded as the Owler rose to thirty feet high to sample vines that were suspended from the ceiling, as well as to investigate their position and formulate their next move.

Gem retreated to normal height as Deacon clapped. “You have such hidden talents, Gem.”

The Owler smiled back. “Don’t tell Jim. He thinks himself last off the assembly line.” Deacon had a laugh as Gem pointed. “There are stacks of crates about one hundred feet in that direction, Master, behind those rocks.” Furtively, they navigated around fallen chunks of roof rock while encountering slithering snakelike creatures. Onward they navigated, moving steadfastly to encounter the stash of boxes. Analyses of the contents didn’t take Gem long. Deacon coiled up against the wall and acted as sentry as Gem disappeared. “My catalog is complete. Food break required, sire—lavish diet, and freeze-dried.” Gem extended a limb, holding out the morsels.

“What about the contents of the crates?”

“Origin unknown, sire. Provisions and common carbon-based foods that would be quite healthy for you. No sign of stashed arms.”

Deacon stood and ate quickly, munching the tasteless beads.

From there they wound their way downward again over slippery, moist rocks, the breeze sputtering in their face. Ahead, a porthole appeared. It was an exit to an expansive flat area on the back side of the ridge, opposite the plains they had overlooked. Gem scanned for foreign materials and detected soils and metallic pieces not indigenous to the planet. Moving back inside, Gem directed them further. “Master, copious readings of various metallic substances in that direction.” Gem extended one limb to over one hundred feet and pointed; Deacon gave the order to advance.

Gem turned on the light system to full white beams, and a tunnel became apparent. Swiftly, the two moved into the entrance. They traveled about four hundred feet before they entered a massive cavern to discover caches of weapons—pile upon pile upon pile, stretching out of view.

“Do not move any closer, Master, as a force field is in effect. I identify it as old traders’ vintage, but it is very effective against any mortal intruders, with a quick and painful electrocution. Do you wish me to break it, sire?”

Deacon weighed the options. “No. Leave the scene untouched. We can’t afford to let anyone know about our presence here. Can you scan through it, Gem, to read and record the identity of the shipments? And determine the number of weapons?”

“Enough to arm close to three thousand beings.”

“What? You can determine all that already?”

“I have completed the scan and recorded the serial numbers on most crates facing us. Do you wish me to travel around to the other side?”

Deacon became edgy. He still couldn’t fathom the number of arms. “Yes, but quickly, Gem. I will wait here.”

Gem was absent for over ten minutes as Deacon fidgeted, wavered, and paced uneasily in the darkness, disturbed by frequent slithering intruders. He frequently heard Gem scuffling about on the other side of the cavern. Deacon was relieved as the Owler appeared. Gem led the way out. The two moved back to the ledge to join Travers, Quobit, Jim, and the Nicosian. Gem recited their findings. “Yes, these are the missing weapons, according to the documents supplied by Chubby.”

Deacon relayed their discovery to Travers. “Inside these caves is a full arsenal.” Travers expressed his discomfort. “But who transported and hid them here in this dreadful, godforsaken place?”

Dreams

Deacon and Jim returned to the
Heritage
and hid her twenty miles from the mount in a remote location. Jim put in place a force field pulse to disguise the ship from any alien probes. Necessary goods were transferred to a small shuttle craft—enough for a prolonged campout. Then, returning to the others, they positioned the mobile craft and the camp in an ideal level spot where they could view the ledge, observe activities on the plains beyond, and spy on the back entrance to the cave in the mount, if the owners of the stolen shipments should arrive.

Violent dreams engulfed Deacon during his sleep, with a thousand potential images of Urzel striking at him. Just as difficult a time possessed Travers, as he twice awakened, urging Deacon to abandon any further investigations. When Deacon awoke, he found the Aralian cuddled up beside him, his nose twitching and his eyelids in spasm. He tried to enter Travers’s mind, and images of a wicked creature jumped into his mind. He discontinued that exercise but became convinced that Travers had not told him all he knew. Travers had still not answered his earlier query of why he had taken the
Sleigher
to this monstrous place.

Gem completed the full documentation of all the serial numbers on the crates while Deacon and Quobit made use of this opportunity by spending their time at the rear entrance to the cave system, cataloging soils, photographing footprints, collecting bits of plant material, and scrutinizing the site for clues regarding any alien ship having landed in this place.

“Anything t-t-t… to incriminate me?” Travers asked when Deacon later returned to the campsite.

“No, my friend. There are signs of radioactive fuels, indications that a small, light ship has repeatedly landed here. I have bagged hair and scales, captured foot imprints, and collected odd bits of metal.”

Quobit dangled a bag. “Bits of foreign materials.”

Just as Deacon returned to the ledge, his attention was drawn to their captive, who was now aroused in a restless state, as he was constantly denied participation in his daily ritual of battle. The chants from the plains below were stirring a fire within him. Setting him free was a risk too dangerous to assume at this venture of the expedition. Torturous sounds numbed Deacon’s mind; he crawled to the edge of the sill to see and hear a bloody fight below him. The victors were soon declared, and the carcasses dragged away. The more he witnessed, the more he wished to complete their investigation and then depart.

As he slept during that period, his dreams took him down onto the plains, where he ran for his life, undefended against vicious Nicosians. He met Landrew, who confirmed that he was an expendable pawn in this chess game. He turned to ask Lyanna for help, but she disrobed to show that she was an Owler. Deacon ran and ran and soon was alone, only to find himself confronted by two beasts. He was breathing heavily, sweating profusely, screaming for Gem and Jim. The landscape was bare. This was to be his fight to the death; he clutched a large bone. He raised the weapon to strike when he felt something touch his shoulder. Jim poked him to signal that his rest period was complete.

Jim and Gem had completed many tasks. They found that the torch material was indeed a substance mined on many planets, but only the planet Prellij, in the Aralian system, was this brand manufactured with these glowing pigments. The markings on the crates gave a perfect match to the stolen arms, to no one’s surprise, although Deacon felt less comforted than the others by this fact. It confirmed a conspiracy in the traders’ ranks. The supplies of food were from Zentaur; the bits of tin probably from Zentaur too, based on the impurities. The hairs were from an Aralian, a Jabu, and a Centaurian, and the skin scales from Inic’taurians. Until the owners of the booty showed themselves, suspicion could be directed almost anywhere in the Alliance and in the universe.

As the Owlers departed to complete geological and biological tasks and disappeared over a rise, Travers arose from slumber and joined Deacon for a snack. His hands fidgeted as he opened his dried contents. Deacon sat back to firmly ask Travers the question he needed an answer to. “Why did you take the
Sleigher
here? I want an answer, Travers.” Travers turned his head toward him with a blank stare. “You can trust me. I will not use your answer against you.” Quobit observed them. Still Travers gave no response. “What did you discover here? Answer me, Travers.” Travers halted eating and now looked away. He spoke no words to answer Deacon. “Did you find Urzel here? Did you discover the meaning of this word,
Urzel
?”