The Adventures of Deacon Coombs (9 page)

Landrew’s comments frightened Deacon. “You speak as if you know what I might find out there.” Landrew gazed sternly back with no sign of affirmation.

“Down the hall you will find your wardrobe. Your library of discs at Moonbeam has been transferred here, and we have constructed a direct link to your files. Owlers visited Moonbeam and made the transfer earlier today immediately after your departure.” Deacon resented this invasion of privacy. Landrew continued. “We also have a new handheld device that is more powerful than the one you bear. It straps painlessly onto your wrist and has an immense memory. You can also link into many remote databanks; the Owlers will demonstrate this to you. Consider this a gift from the High Council.

“The Owlers will also insert a microdevice into one of your ears. It is the recent state of technology and serves to translate instantaneously any foreign languages you may encounter. Remember when using it to put the shield plug in the other ear so the speaker does not interfere with the translator. Carry the translator at all times.”

“My life is my work. It is the supreme satisfaction that I receive from life. It is the only happiness that I know,” said Deacon. Landrew stared back with a poker face. After a silence, Deacon said, “But I guess that I am about to take my show on the road.”

“Ah, ha ha ha!” Landrew shouted jubilantly, extending a hearty handshake to Deacon. “I will say good night to you. Good luck from the members of the High Council.”

Deacon refused to break the handshake. “Wait! I have other questions for you. And you speak as if we may not see each other again.”

“Maybe not,” Landrew said, and he barged out of the viewing room and into the hallway.

Deacon presented a barrage of excuses as Landrew gained distance between them. The two men stood facing one another as the elevator door closed. Piece by piece, the body of Landrew disappeared behind the iron curtain. As the doors emitted a resounding thud, Landrew was gone. Deacon strained to hear the last whine as the carriage left, leaning against the door, his ear pressed to the metal. It was completely silent. He was alone in the abyss of the archives, alone with the creaks and groans of the concrete and steel. Dejectedly, he turned to find the two Owlers fifty feet in front of him, awaiting his return.

They were soulless, expressionless, at attention, ready for his commands. Inside, he felt empty. Where to start? How he longed to converse further with Landrew.

High above, Landrew exited the elevator. Confidently he strolled down the hall with broad steps in his gait to his awaiting party. He sincerely liked the little man. He had wanted to stay and converse with him further, but he knew Coombs must be not be influenced by even him.

Stepping into the conference room, he discovered Council members all staring at him. He shared their eye contact one by one. Raal spoke first. “Is Mr. Coombs accepting the assignment?”

“Yes.”

Dreveney quickly intervened. “And you shared the footage on Nix with him?”

“Yes.”

“And he is willing to travel off Earth to investigate?”

“Yes.”

“I am skeptical about this Earthling,” Xudur said. “He has not traveled extensively throughout our worlds and is certainly not one prepared for any physical combat should the circumstance arise.”

“Trust him. Trust me when I tell you that I know Coombs has accepted the mission; for I have firsthand proof; I saw the look of excitement and adventure in Deacon’s eyes.”

Gem and Jim

A dream come true

“Dreveney, this is a dream come true for me. Wandering around the catacombs of this magnificent structure, I am inspired to hear that the only human footsteps echoing in the aisles are my own.”

Dreveney chuckled. “I haven’t had exercise like this indoors in many years. As you know, we Aralians are outdoor creatures. Where are you leading me?” After climbing up endless flights of stairs, and dragging Dreveney through maze upon maze of hallways, Deacon finally said, “Here.” The twosome stood stupefied on the great balcony that loomed some three hundred feet above the acres of data and history before them.

“Deacon, I am overwhelmed.”

“Me too. From here you can obtain an appreciation of the caves, stalls, terminals, footage viewing rooms, alcoves, and row upon row of archaic manuscripts, all rows lit by resplendent multicolored lights in the floors that serve to code the areas.” Dreveney watched Deacon as his large blue mooneyes darted to and fro, feasting on the vastness of knowledge at his disposal.

“It is here on the great balcony that I decided to set up my control center. With this exhilarating view, I am inspired to work. Meanwhile, as Landrew stated, an unsuspecting civilization is being informed that the museum has been closed indefinitely for structural repairs.”

“While inside,” said Dreveney, “Deacon Coombs is on knowledge overload, his mind tempting hourly to disband this foolish quest and alternatively plow through the original ageless works of past masters. Do you know, Coombs, that there are identical information databases on each of the other planets in the Alliance?”

“No. I did not know. So tell me, Dreveney, what other lucky souls have you and Landrew engaged to scour those bases?”

“Sir, that is confidential,” he quietly said. “What form does the data take here? What media do you inspect?”

“Microchips are the common venue of storage for literary works, history, news clips, science, and treatises. I found that the system needs only split seconds at the most to retrieve any entry and project it on my monitor or 3-D screen. Jim and Gem raised an objection to the control site, citing more convenient sites below that provide the advantages of faster retrievals of paper copies, but I ignored them, constructed their chores of investigation, and issued orders that sent them on their way.”

“I envy you. Have you found Travers in your files yet?”

“Visual segments take longer to retrieve, although the eye scans thousands of feet per second per disc to locate requested footage.” Deacon turned to face Dreveney. “Yesterday, on the big screen,”—he pointed to it behind them—“I found and faced Travers of Aralia, an innocent-looking specimen.”

Dreveney’s look turned sour. “I am the expert on Aralians, Mr. Coombs, and I advise you to respectfully not think of Travers as innocent.”

“I hear you, my friend. I also unearthed the last days of Geor, the rebellion on Valdecon, and dossiers of influential trade officials. A file with blemishes on the record of Travers was very easily stumbled into. Do you think this was conveniently planted? Perhaps to influence me?”

Dreveney changed topics again. “What else have you observed?”

“I discovered a damaging address by Travers to trade members admitting that the trade union was indeed responsible for many illegal activities. In it, Travers vowed to find those responsible and punish them. This file further documented the union’s measures to smash smuggling rings and put an end to illegal sales of armaments. I surmise that the Union of Space Traders grew too large too rapidly and too soon with new admittances, and that there are ineffective screening processes for tradesmen, who are issued immense, sweeping powers to conduct trade throughout the Alliance. Travers seems to exhibit and express good intentions, but a poor enforcement of regulations is a persistent theme throughout all the criminal infractions. I had no idea that interplanetary trade was such a lucrative business.

“I concluded that Travers was an honest industrious individual trying to grasp a monstrous out-of-control organization. I truly do feel sorry for the Aralian and the overwhelming task of leading the traders. Landrew was correct in his assessment of the undying loyalty of the membership to Travers. This makes Travers powerful, but only within his domain.” To himself he pondered why the High Council wanted him to focus on Travers. Even with the intersections of evidence, it still wasn’t clear to him.

“Deacon, I must depart for other business meetings, although you have confused me and I know not what direction to exit.”

“I can help with that,” he said, and he summoned Gem on his handheld to escort Dreveney. As Deacon and Dreveny waited, Deacon hugged him good-bye, sensing the aromatic, silky white fur.

“I admire you, Deacon Coombs. Don’t you ever wonder, or fear, what might be waiting for you?”

“Each evening in my small room, I ponder what horrible fate awaits me when I finally uncover the evil; what beings lurk in space, ready to feast on my cowardice. In this case, courage is a thin veneer masked by the presence of the Owlers. I will have to depend on the Owlers’ skills to save me. How easy it is to confront criminals in the virtual reality I control from Moonbeam.”

“Are you satisfied with the Owlers’ performance?”

“I am very impressed. Gem and Jim assimilate data at full tilt, producing compact, comprehensive, timely reports for me to absorb each evening. So far they have examined the political careers of each member of the High Council, documented the exhaustive problems of the Union of Space Traders, summarized the facts surrounding the deaths of Como and Geor, provided the expert medical evaluations of the crew of the
Sleigher
, and helped me understand the physics and engineering of Vespering in layman’s terms.

“However, most difficult of all was reading the excerpts from the trial of Travers. After two days I concluded that the prosecution had presented no direct evidence to link Travers to the crimes that he was charged with. Not a shred of direct evidence. How peculiar. How could they have made him take responsibility for the heinous acts he was accused of? Travers personally had broken no laws. There was only one logical verdict: not guilty. Why had he been brought to trial with such flimsy evidence? And where was this new evidence that Como had viewed that convinced him to blaspheme Travers before an Aralian public?”

“Sadly, I was not involved in the case and so cannot comment on your observations,” said Dreveney. “Ah, here is Gem, my escort out of this puzzle.” They hugged again, and Dreveney departed. Deacon spied them weaving amid the aisles below, Dreveney skiing on his bare-boned feet, his weight shifting to and fro until they traversed out of sight. It was the first time that he had used the universal translator, and he had found it to be totally efficient in translating Dreveney’s remarks.

Deacon sensed that the time to depart for Brebouillis drew nearer, and as each day passed, he grew stronger in his resolve to unearth the truth but more apprehensive about what lay ahead. After five intense days in the library, it was apparent to him that he should follow Landrew’s advice to journey to the asylum on Brebouillis and directly interface with the doctors and observe the crew of the
Sleigher
.

He had come to relish the company of Jim and Gem. Though overprinted with human engrams, they were too logical, too factual, and too cold to be anything but Owlers. He often admired the technology of their fluid movements, unlike the jerky twitches he had observed in past models, and he never tired of Jim’s reference to being “the last off of the assembly line.” Deacon drove them to the limit to perform, and they never let him down. At his prompt, stimulating conversation was initiated each evening. On his orders, they spent nocturnal periods scouring files for his perusal the next morning.

He spent two evenings playing the game Vigogg with Gem but tired after three defeats. The Owler’s moves were too swift for him to analyze and unnerved him. While Gem was constantly expressionless and businesslike in responses, Jim’s regular onslaughts of humor and arrogance amused him. Deacon admired the sense of teamwork and respected their opinions. One evening, while in his dorm, he decided to broach the matter of the Vesper incident.

“Speculate on the Vesper problem at Jabu, Jim.”

Jim stepped closer and gestured while talking. “There is the chance of possible interference by an alien technology using methods beyond our detection and comprehension. It is possible that there are physics unknown to our greatest scientists. Secondly, possible human error and subsequent cover-up to protect the guilty party at the Jabu Vesper station. It is only human nature to harbor mistakes, although I must add that the Jabu have never been known to do this and are characterized as a trustworthy race. Thirdly, possible impedance of the Vesper wave by either a collision or interference with a space phenomenon not recognizable or detected by our current technology.”

“Space phenomenon? Elaborate.”

“Proximity to a pulsating high gravitational pull, interface with a magnetic field, collision with a celestial object, intense unusual ionic or cosmic storm, or perhaps intersection with a rare, naturally occurring positron beam. All space storms are not accurately mapped, and Vesper particles are not immune to these events. However, one must be able to explain the subsequent return by the
Sleigher
to the Aralian Vesper station. Therefore, premeditated interference by an unknown technology seems a logical first explanation.”

Each answer had almost human comforting tones, though Jim’s pitch was deep. Deacon had instructed Gem to prepare the personal habits and close acquaintances of Travers. “Gem, where should we look to find Travers?”

Gem’s response was spontaneous with absolutely no hesitation. “Aralia.”

“Why?”

“Aralians cannot sustain long periods of time from Aralia except in Aralian trade ships that are adapted for their particular frigid environment and gravity. With the current ongoing scrutiny of all trade ships by Alliance forces to locate Travers, he would logically not be on an Aralian trade ship. He escaped from the hospital at Froora on Aralia. It would be then easiest to take refuge on Aralia, where he still has a very large and loyal following. Interplanetary security is intense and effective; Travers’s closest allies are on Aralia, where security forces may be aiding in his concealment. Travers is still on Aralia, Master.”

Jim piped up. “Master, I totally agree with my partner Gem. There are remote locales where he could hide effortlessly. Gem and I reviewed all the states and geography of Aralia last night and came up with a list of regions we should visit. Here is the list for your perusal, Master.”

Deacon felt uncomfortable at Jim’s reference of “regions we should visit” as he thought of just how vast Aralia was. He decided to force an important issue. “How about we place an advertisement through well-placed individuals on Aralia that states we are attempting to communicate with Travers, and see if he finds us?”

“Out of the question,” said Jim. “We are assigned to protect you, sire. The plan you propose prescribes a possible threat to your safety. Since Travers is dangerous, Gem and I cannot support that plan.”

Deacon felt a jar at Jim’s reference to Travers being dangerous.
What
has
Jim
read?
How
is
Jim
programmed?
he thought. He proposed a rebuttal. “I have carefully examined the transcripts of the trial, and they proved to me that there was only circumstantial evidence to link Travers to the criminal charges. How do you know that Travers is dangerous?”

Deacon shivered upon hearing Gem’s cold, smooth, calculated response: “Travers is the enemy. We seek him out.”

Deacon stared at them. He rose slowly with iciness in his bones, walked away, and then turned to step slowly forward to confront them. He had to verify any preplanned prime directives. The small confines of his room now seemed so uncomfortable. “And what are your instructions once we find him?”

Gem was quick. “To apprehend Travers. To bring him back for questioning. To kill him if he should pose a threat to you or the safety of the Alliance.”

Deacon cringed at the expressionless stares of Gem and Jim. Behind those steely faces were the wires and metal and discs that housed the instructions of the mission. He had to trust them, but there was a gnawing in his stomach, a feeling that he and Travers were pawns in a game of much larger stakes. Even so, the only safe pieces on the chessboard to protect him were these Owlers. He continued. “Kill. That’s a very strong, decisive order Gem. I don’t remember instructing you to kill Travers.”

“It will be necessary if he harms you.”

Deacon wanted to change the subject. There existed an eerie silence, for Deacon wanted to capture Travers alive for interrogation.

“Aralia is a very massive planet. Some of the remote provinces are one-fifth of Earth’s size. How do we commence this search for Travers, Jim? Have you and Gem identified logical starting points?”