The Adventures of Deacon Coombs (58 page)

He fantasized about what the saucy imaginary girl in the port office might have looked like. He rested on the bed horizontally, his head on his pillow, until the soft whistle in quarters signaled the crew change. He rebandaged his leg and made his way to the engine room in one of the lower bulbs. As he entered the large room of steel-gray panels and dazzling instruments, someone shouted, “Hey, Lookey, you old sot!”

He turned to recognize his fortune and misfortune. This was a comrade, Warstel, from years ago, when he had been utilizing this disguise to catch smugglers. Warstel would provide any credence he needed as Lookey, but Chubby painfully was reminded of the annoyance that this fellow oozed. Chubby played the role of Lookey to perfection. First he hugged his former mate, criticizing the heap of junk that they traveled in, and then he kidded him about the dangerous cargoes that lay in the holds.

Warstel said, “I’m security! Do you believe it? Me? The biggest scoundrel in the trade, security! Ha ha, if only they knew about me, the captain would be furious.”

Chubby did not believe his ears. He did recall what a scoundrel this Warstel was and how he had thieved food from the kitchen and played cruel jokes on those he disliked. How much more incompetence lay in this ship of rogues?

“You? S’curity? Ha ha ha.” They laughed together as Chubby resolved to make amends if he ever survived this ordeal.

“I’m off to do my rounds now, Lookey. Later, we drink.”

Now Chubby was furious. Traders drinking on a trade ship. It had been so long since he had been in charge of an undisciplined crew that he had forgotten about gross violations.

The ship was docked for what seemed an eternity, obviously waiting for Urzel’s return and instructions. Chubby tried to avoid Warstel, but with no luck. It seemed that turn after turn, the irritation was there. It was as if Lookey was unlucky. Suddenly orders for departure came through—for Aralia! Chubby’s heart sank. Had Urzel not heard the rumors? Had he not intercepted the communique from Earth to Nedilli? It was up to him.

Chubby did not cherish the thought of being the originator of the rumor for fear that Urzel might want to interrogate the rumor monger. So he devised another plan. He waited patiently for his hourly pain to surface, and surface Warstel did.

Warstel’s tale

“Lookey, my Lookey, let’s have a drink. I know an isolated spot on the sixth deck. No one will find us there.”

“I thoort you’d never ask,” Chubby said, chortling. They retreated to a secluded spot and commenced to imbibe, sitting under a bank of stairs, with Chubby pouring his portions down a convenient drain while Warstel was distracted. After overindulgence, Chubby recognized the drunken stupor of the annoying Aralian, who had just spent the majority of their engagement spouting of his exaggerated false heroics.

Chubby initiated his plan. “Tell me more ’bout her.”

“About who?”

“You know. This here Medullan, this sorrowful mother who’s gone to Earth to see her dyin’ son.”

“What? I don’t know any Medullan.”

“Ah,” Chubby poked him in the ribs. “You’re so drunk that you can’t even ‘member whats you said to me five minutes ago. You must be a roarin’ drunk.”

“Oh. Lookey, I’m a-feelin’ good, but I can’t say that I do remember. I told you ’bout some Medullan?”

Presto,
this
is
it
, Chubby thought. “’Course you did.”

“Well, what did I say?”

The setup was perfect. This was Lookey’s cue. “That ‘dullan woman gone to Earth to see someone, possibly her dyin’ son. They say that she’s got kin there, on Earth. That her son’s a-dyin’.”

“What? How did a Medullan get kinship on Earth?”

“Yer the one that’s told the story to me. How do I know?”

“Oh, well, if I said it.” Then Warstel passed out. Chubby gently nudged him, extracted a small knockout pill that Schlegar had said might come in handy, and slid it underneath Warstel’s tongue. Now his plan was in place. With security on this floor in a deep sleep, and the seeds of a rumor in him, Chubby rolled Warstel over gently and relieved him of his key cards. Then he stood, spitting out any remnants of the spirits that had passed over his palate, and set out on the most important mission he had ever undertaken.

Chubby summoned courage, although he felt his bodily functions beating inside him. He had to visit chamber fifteen and determine if Urzel was there. Rodan had provided the readings, which would be on the control panels if Urzel was indeed inside the chamber.

He stopped in his tracks. Only the humming of the motors filled his background senses. He looked for security cameras. There were none. Quickly, he went about his business. Down the stairs he limped, his innards churning. He pried opened a steel door and then stepped out into the dead silence on the deck. Beside him the whirring of an elevator signaled its motion, but not to his floor, as the lighted panel indicated.

The area was poorly lit by overhead lights. Lines of containers, row upon row, were in his view. He had memorized the floor plan and knew exactly the number and direction of turns to take him to this devil. He maintained a slight stagger in case a monitor was recording.

Turning a corner, he spied the huge, bulbous, white receptacles of chemicals aligned at the back of the area, so he scooted up a catwalk to oversee the rest of the room and conduct a direct walk to his target. Number fifteen was in his sights from his view above. He quickly returned to floor level as his heart throbbed. He would check all the containers, all the panel boards out in front. He would play the role of security in case he was being watched. Chubby mumbled and sang an Aralian ballad softly.

Oh, say, I’m a rougher, whose travels port to port,

No home, no friends, for I’m never there,

I’m an Aralian trader sort.

He sang the next two verses in his slobbish way as he wound down the aisle, stopping to gaze at all the control panels and observe the readings on each vat. The chambers were about eighteen feet high and round, each with seven steps leading to a window to peer into each unit. The dials were brightly lit in red at floor level with an attached computer.

Chubby leaned against the front of one of the bulbs, noticing from the markings that it was number nine. He sauntered over to the next one, still humming his trivial ballad, still acting unsteady on his feet. This was number eleven, and he could already see the brilliant numbers of thirteen on the adjacent panel.

He let the verses of the Aralian song fill his mind. He dared not pause from his rejoicing in song to let even one foreign thought of the mission permeate his head. He thought about each and every word in the song and slowed down now to annunciate each syllable and repeat verses.

There it was, coming into view. Closer and closer and closer. Number fifteen. What would he do if Urzel were in there staring back at him from the porthole with those eyes? He climbed up the seven steps of unit thirteen to peer inside. “Oh, look at thar bubbling chemicals, Lookey.”

Sitting on the top step, he spied up and down the aisle. It was all peaceful except for any sounds that he made. He leaned over and saw the dial on the panel below, noticing that the contents were formaldium. The temperature and pressure were registered in digital red. It was time.

He descended and then hugged the side of the vat to move behind the units. There was knee-high dust and debris blocking his way to the rear, so Chubby sighed and then moved back into the aisle to reluctantly execute the direct approach.

Walking ever so slowly, swaying, thinking not of himself but of the silly traders’ song, his head bowed, he counted the paces to number fifteen. Then he stalled, exaggerating his supposed drunkenness with a to-and-fro stagger. Situated on the lowermost step, surveying the situation, he took a swig from a small bottle hidden under his jacket. His metabolism raced as he gulped down the refreshment. Then he stood up straight, moving to examine the dials as Rodan had taught him, while reciting the next verse. He required only that split second to view the pressure and temperature recordings, and in that one second, Chubby’s heart froze.

The readings on the dial were just as Rodan had predicted and as the previous records of the
H’vington
had specified. There was absolutely no doubt that Urzel Lok was inside this compartment. Was he watching him from the window? Sleeping? Or intercepting his thoughts of the past three seconds? Chubby ambled away from number fifteen, breaking in a straight line for the end of the aisle but in no hurry. Once there, at chamber one, he sat to rest and hear his heart palpitate. His palms were sweaty, his mouth dry. He needed to gather his composure and head back to the sixth level.

Suddenly, a rustling sound emanated from the other side of the cavern. With courage he stood, slowly walking away from the disturbance, then retreating toward the set of stairs that he had to ascend. A clanging sound paralyzed him. Moving sideways beside one of the elevated bulbs, he sunk to his knees and scoured the floor level for any sign of movement. Darkness met his eyes as he strained to see any images lurking near him.

Cautiously he stood, paced out into the aisle, and, with a fervent stride, counted his paces to the escape hatch. Just as he did so, he heard footsteps behind him. As he stopped in his tracks, so did they. He staggered forward, and they recommenced. Sweat beaded under the hair on his forehead. Now he was concerned.

Chubby moved in the direction of the lifts, and the door opened to an empty carriage. As he stepped forward, a muscular arm grabbed him around the torso from behind, extracting him from the elevator. The brute spun him around to an angry captain. “Who gave you permission to access this deck? Answer me!”

“Why… um.”

“Who? Answer me, slob!”

Chubby wobbled at the knees and then recognized the necessity for bravery to complete their venture. So he played his role in the act.

“I and my bubby had, why we got a wee bit drunken, so I deedn’t want him to get into trouble, so I’s got to make his rounds for him. So I deed. To make sure he’s not in trouble. I am talkin’ ’bout Warstel.” Chubby delivered his lines with the animation of his arms flinging about and no break in eye contact with the captain.

“Honest. Cap’n, I weren’t paying mooch attention to where I was. I was just makin’ his routes to make sure that there weren’t anythin’ harmful happening. No harm, Cap’n. His job got done. I deedn’t want Warstel to get into any trouble.”

While the captain studied him hard with his stern, chiseled face of displeasure, Chubby heard steps behind him. The voice said, “I watched him; he didn’t tamper with anything and seemed to inspect a number of stations on the deck.”

Chubby looked over his shoulder to see a tall Globianan, armed with potent weapons, standing at attention. “Why, thank you, mate.”

But the captain was furious and grabbed Chubby’s fur and tugged him toward him, so close that Chubby could smell his alcohol-laden breath. “You stick to your chores the remainder of this journey. Don’t you ever wander onto any deck without permission or I’ll put you off this ship by leavin’ you, mate, in the cold, dark chamber of outer space. Where is that pathetic drunken mate of yours? Warstel! Where is he?”

In the second he hesitated to respond, he encountered a low blow that knocked the wind out of his cavity, delivered by the husky Globianan blaggard. He sank to his knees, but the assailant was quick to grab him under the arms and hoist him to his feet to face the captain again as he twisted Chubby’s arm.

“Where is he?”

“He’s hurtin’ my arm.”

“Speak up or I’ll instruct him to break it.”

Chubby terminated his false loyalty by responding. “Deck six, at end of large crates, middle aisle, under the stairs.”

The captain nodded to the hulk, and the grip was released. “Be off with you, and don’t leave your assigned deck again.”

“Yes, Cap’n. I won’t be of any trouble to you.” Chubby hobbled into the elevator as they stood coldly eyeing him. As the doors closed, he breathed a sigh of relief but immediately thought of the worse fate that awaited Warstel. He retreated to his quarters expecting a further punishment that did not arrive. Hours later, encouragement arrived instead, as he received another assignment on deck six.

It was hours before Chubby saw Warstel in general quarters. Chubby suspected by his subdued demeanor that he had received punishment for his delinquency. But Warstel had spread the planted rumor, for suddenly, on their way to Aralia, the orders came to divert to Earth—to Ketapongo! There was a story rampant on the ship that some urgent need was required by this ship and crew there. Shortly thereafter, a crewman confirmed it to Lookey in the mess hall.

“Hear about this Medullan traveling to Earth?”

“Why, yes, I heard it too.”

“From Warstel?”

Chubby thought to himself,
Ah,
good
old
Warstel,
the
blabbermouth.
The
savior.
Then he addressed his mate. “Why, yes, that’s exactly who told me, told me that some ‘dullan was goin’ to see some sickly relation on Earth.”

The conversation was joined by a host of other crewmen as Chubby sat back and basked in his success, munching on his hardened nutrition. The command came. The
H’vington
was preparing to Vesper to Earth.

When Chubby heard it, he felt prickly all over. The moment of truth had arrived. In his belly he was queasy about Deacon’s plan, but it was too late to alter it. The final battle was about to commence.

In the Vesper Disc

Clandestine plans

There was a note from Lyanna on Deacon’s handheld excusing her personal absence on the screen as she was attending an interview meeting at Liberty Hospital. Deacon surfaced a smile as he read it, thinking of how she was relaxing back on Earth, how this could be the beginning of a new and productive relationship for him if she should secure employment there. He read on, growing despondent at a recent communication from Goharn. It read, “Mr. Coombs, the health of the child Urzel is worsening. Unless a miracle occurs, Urzel Lok will die soon, perhaps even before your return to Earth. Goharn.”

A
miracle
, he thought to himself. Was that what they were about to perform? A miracle? Maybe Chubby was right. The details were complex and required precision to accomplish. Leaning rearward in the comfortable high-back chair, he yearned for Lyanna’s company at a restaurant, in the park, in the lab, to be with her once again. But Landrew demanded his presence, and it was that meeting that should consume his thoughts. Stretching his khaki-colored shirt over his torso, he departed to the lift, where Gem awaited for him. Down into the catacombs of Liberty to the metro car, they raced through green-lit tunnels, meandering until they were parked in front of the familiar History Archives Library. Gem and Deacon wasted no time bounding up the stairs to meet the Council. At length, Deacon noticed the familiar open door, and he entered to discover Landrew, Raal, Xudur, and Schlegar. The familiar sound of Rodan shuffling down the hall in his cloud of turmoil and scrambled papers was not far behind. Raal seemed particularly colorful to Deacon today in her bluish transparency.

Landrew shook hands heartily with Deacon and then asked him to sit in Eggu-Nitron’s chair in his absence. Deacon sensed a taste of success as each member greeted him. After Toad’s arrival, the chamber was sealed. Landrew arose and spoke.

“The High Council has met to discuss many issues recently. Since there are important issues on their own planets in these times of crises, the High Council has left the temporary controls with Xudur, Raal, and me. Before we discuss your plan of action, and the requests of Nedilli and her role, there is news from Jabu.

“Deacon Coombs, you are a seer.” Landrew leaned forward to praise Deacon further. “Parts of Jabu have been reclaimed by forces of the Alliance. It is as you have told us, that in the absence of Urzel personally, he needs allies to sustain control of his will.”

Deacon was anxious to hear more. “What are the details?”

“When you sent word that Urzel was on the
H’vington
bound for Medulla, I ordered Alliance forces onto Jabu to the edge of the capital. The fighting against the savages was fierce, since the savages were well trained from their daily rituals on Nix. They also possessed no fear to fight and die. In time, our modern weaponry and numbers routed the Nicosians until we regained a third of what was initially lost. It is only a matter of time before we conquer the rebels. Not to our surprise, there were other members present in the forces of evil, including Globianans, Aralians, Jabu, Sorellians, Blades, and more.”

“Not a single Zentaurian,” said Xudur.

Landrew pressed on before Xudur could expand. “Officers of the Jabu forces said that Urzel held their minds for days to immobilize them. But it is as you said, Deacon, that he cannot maintain his stranglehold forever with his mental powers. Nevertheless, many lives were tragically lost; much blood was shed. There is still territory to be retaken. You will be pleased to know that Quobit fought bravely, sustained a minor injury, and has recovered to join Alliance forces to fight again. She sends her warmest regards to you and Lyanna and is anxious to hear of Lord Urzel’s defeat by your plan.”

Deacon then said, “The only reason that Alliance forces overwhelmed the enemy was because Urzel was absent. He will learn from this lesson in his next attack. He was on Medulla when his troops were routed on Jabu, and that distance is too great for him to maintain mental control.”

Landrew sat and nodded. “Xudur has informed us of your exploits on Medulla, and Schlegar has explained many findings. I want to inform you all. You must grasp the fact that Urzel is not defeated on Jabu. He has suffered a setback and lost a third of the ground he held, but I believe that he could easily re-aim his mental abilities to recapture Jabu.”

Deacon painted a grave picture to the group. “As long as he is allowed to roam freely, there will be those on our planets who will be willing to follow him for the price of glory, for revenge, for monetary compensation, or for the promise of power, like Rande.”

“I totally agree with your synopsis, Coombs!” Xudur said in support. “I think it has become imperative that we dispose of him quickly, for as Deacon has said, he will learn lessons from the experience on Jabu.”

Landrew next broached the topic of Nedilli’s requests. “Xudur informs me that you have reached a bargain with Nedilli.”

“Yes. The first two requests by Nedilli and the Medullans are easily accommodated. I can remain with Nedilli at all times to ensure her role in the plan and ensure that no harm comes to her. It is not unreasonable to go a step further and provide Owler protection, as Jim guarantees her safety at present.

“However, she does not wish to be the instrument of her own son’s death. She admits that if there is no other option, she will harbor the assassin.” Xudur quickly changed her look from one of support to a threatening sneer. “I am sorry, Xudur, but Landrew and this entire Council need to debate Nedilli’s demand.” Xudur’s stare paralyzed him as her charcoal-black eyes pierced him.

“Nedilli demands to converse with her son one last time, to try as his mother to bring him back to Medulla for retribution, where the elders of the Medulla claim that they will take responsibility for his actions, restrain him if necessary, and even place him on trial.”

Xudur rose and addressed the audience. “Responsibility!” she screamed. “Like before? Responsibility? We are talking about an individual who has already committed the most serious crimes in the history of the Tetrad Alliance. This being is solely responsible for tens of thousands of deaths on Jabu. He can, with a whisk of the mind, render all of us disabled.” Xudur caught her breath. “Perhaps even me.

“This being is the greatest threat to safety in the history of the Alliance, a worse nightmare than even all the propaganda of alien invasion. Now we hear that the elders of Medulla wish us to turn this child over to them, to the very congregation who initially demonstrated compassion for this beast and are responsible for the dire predicament we are confronted with! My convictions on this matter are a matter of record on behalf of all Zentaurians. We want this child dead! We want the Medullans punished for disobeying a direct order from the Alliance.” Xudur exhaled forcefully.

Landrew said to the princess, “I am responsible too, Xudur. I sanctioned this birth. Do you want me done away with? Do Zentaurians want me punished?”

“We are not here tonight, Landrew, to debate your mistakes and your punishment. We are here to take definitive action against this peril that may destroy all of us. I do not promote your death, Landrew. But I promise that I will interfere rather than allow Urzel to return to the custody of the Medullans.” As Xudur finished, she growled at Deacon, exposing her ruddy raw flesh in her mouth.

Schlegar spoke next, quietly. “The Alliance has survived many years because we have learned to forgive, Xudur. Landrew, if Nedilli can possibly persuade Urzel to accompany her into the pressure chamber to return to Medulla, this would present a nonbloody solution to a most difficult problem. Diplomacy is a powerful weapon. I remind everyone in this room that Urzel knows only a life of bloodshed and combativeness. If he accepts Nedilli’s offer, then I plead with all of you to allow the Medullans to hand out their own justice.”

“Your comments are such a disappointment, Schlegar,” said Xudur.

Raal spoke up. “If diplomacy fails, there will be no second chance. The demented child will know of our true intentions to destroy him and will be on the alert for attempts on his life. We cannot use Nedilli first for bargaining and then as an aide to kill him. I believe that Nedilli’s role must be that of negotiator or assassin, but not both. Therefore, I side with Xudur. We have only this one chance to rid ourselves of him, and Nedilli must be made to understand that she must comply with whatever orders this Council agrees to.”

Deacon stated the purposes again. “We can do both, Raal. She has agreed to expose the marksman to terminate Urzel if talks fail.”

“If it can be accomplished, Deacon, I favor this approach.” Landrew said. “Let us hear from Doctor Roadster on how to accomplish this. Doctor Roadster, you have been patient.”

“Oh, my goosh, the photo-neutrino explosive device is such a destructive energy. It cannot be detonated here on Earth. Our plan to take it to outer space is certainly safer for living beings. Depending on the obstacles in the way of the ensuing energy wave, and any meteoric debris and its velocity, this could have a devastating impact as the waves travel through space. I have theorized that the radiation burn will not kill Nedilli as a spirit but will surely destroy the Owler marksman and do damage to the fleeing ship.

“The gravity device is so complicated, but easier to trigger. It could cause enormous damage to the surroundings, and it would require so much more accuracy by a marksman and then the precision to activate a force field to protect Nedilli and the assassin. Then there are humans who will still be in the area. What will happen when the gravity energy wave hits the surrounding environment with projectiles? As I stated before, it requires such precision to carry out this plan.”

Xudur turned to Landrew. “I am prepared to perish for the cause.”

“The decision will not be easy,” Landrew said. “The gravity device, the explosive photon-neutron device—these are risky to human lives. Our plan must exercise precision with the intent to shelter innocent parties. And Xudur, to minimize that loss of life, I sanction Nedilli to speak to her child before we implement more drastic measures. If the plan is executed on Earth, the device will have to be the gravity bomb.”

“Landrew!” Xudur shouted.

“Xudur and Raal, I understand your motives. They have weighed heavily in my thought processes. However, I cannot permit mass destruction to be the first consequence of our actions.”

“This Council requires three votes to negate your approval.”

“I have already spoken to the other members. They are in receipt of your earlier recording, which protests Nedilli’s request. They vote with me. Therefore, my action is carried.” With that, he circulated a small screen with the consenting votes of Eggu-Nitron, Dreveney, and Dithropolis, for Raal and Xudur to witness.

“If Nedilli is to speak to her child, then it is as Deacon has recommended, with the Owler Gem planted inside her and awaiting the time when talk is no longer an effective weapon and diplomacy is no longer an option. The force field you have designed for the gravity bomb ensures Nedilli’s safety. Is that correct, Toad?”

“Hypothetically. Use of the field associated with the gravity device will protect Nedilli, according to my calculations, but not the Owler.”

“The plan will be carried out as such,” said Deacon, “and I will inform Nedilli of the risks. First we board the
H’vington
, the very second the ship has materialized in the Vesper disc. Then we maintain the force field around Urzel’s chamber, chamber fifteen. Thirdly, Alliance forces restrain and subdue the crew, and then, fourthly, we Vesper to the Maxime Quadrant directly from Earth, a difficult Vesper. Toad, will you display the star chart?”

“Oh my goosh, the Maxime Quadrant is sparsely populated. Most of the mining colonies are Owler-operated and in an asteroid belt. The
H’vington
will Vesper to here and then land on the nearest small asteroid, identified by Jim, ah… here.” He pointed to a spot on the map on the table.

“We will have to lure Urzel outside the ship with Nedilli as bait. We have to hope, my chooch, that Urzel follows. As Gem hides inside Nedilli, we must allow a few moments for Nedilli to converse with Urzel. If those attempts are not productive, then we launch the bomb into Urzel, initiating the force fields around Nedilli and the ship at the precise second the shot is fired.”

Landrew, Raal, and Xudur stared back in disbelief. Toad confirmed the obvious. “I know this sounds complicated, but this is our best plan.”

“Toad,” said Landrew, “the Alliance has used these gravity devices for years and knows the exact area affected for each size of charge. Can’t we detonate a gravity charge that destroys Urzel but minimizes damage?”

“I have calculated the minimum charge, and it will be devastating for five miles but must be fired from very close range to affect this Medullan. We need for him to feel the brunt of the charge so that his molecules have no chance for recombination through gravity after the detonation.”

Landrew spoke again. “The decision has been made to Vesper this creature away from the civilization of Earth, where too much damage to property and loss of human life is risked if we perform our operations on Earth. It has also been agreed to scramble the molecules of Urzel beyond repair and save Nedilli, as we promised the Medullans.

“I should now call an end to this meeting. I know you have further discussion for the arrangements to intercept Urzel. Raal, Schlegar, and, Xudur, I shall ask you to remain.”

“Wait!” shouted Xudur. “Why am I not to be this marksman inside Nedilli? I do not have any human sympathetic element to sway my decision when the time arrives.”

Deacon offered his solution. “It is not easy for me to say this, Xudur, but you know that the Owler Gem will not fail us.” Deacon had become very attached to the Owler who stood still behind him.

Landrew eyed the Owler. “I agree with the choice.”

Xudur protested. “Landrew, you know of my credentials as a sure shot. This Owler is only as good as the programming installed. I, on the other hand, have never missed. I will not fail, Landrew. I am the superior marksperson, not this barrel of tin and silicon and wires.” She waved her arm in the direction of Gem.