Ofana

by Clay Moore

  “Oh bother,” she said as if she had missed a step. She reached into the head and turned it off. She set the head on a stand and took off the elastic broadband that had to be the controller for the head.

  “The Wizard of Giesling,” said Brian.

  “What did you say?” asked Ofana?

  “He’s reminding me of my literary roots here. I am the Wizard of Oz.”

  “Oh my god, why didn’t I see it.”

  “Context, Ofana, the context is wrong. There is no Emerald City, and we have weapons.”

  Konrabi stood up and parted the wizard’s robes she wore. Underneath her costume, she wore a white silk shirt and black trousers. The wizard’s robes she put on the top of the high backed chair. She put on the vest that had hung from the chair.

  “Let me see, Mister Butler, you called me the Wizard of Giesling.” She sat in her chair and looked at Brian. Her mouth lifted in an almost feral smile. “In a way that is what I am. Instead of a barnstorming balloonist, I am an itinerant Actor. I came here to perform Shakespeare, Chekhov, and Hammermill. I got to do that. I received a grant from Eridani and built the theatre. I talked some people into giving me some of their time. We put on a show. We made a little money. Pretty soon, we were staging plays, and we were playing packed houses.”

  “Success for you,” said Ofana.

  “I took our success and bought the claim. It’s a Gold mine.”

  “Yeah, she is an Eridani,” said Brian.

  “Hush, Brian,” said Ofana.

  “Let him express his sense of humor.”

  “You bought an actual gold mine?” asked Brian?

  “Yes, this area has independent miners. Gold was easy to extract. The second mother lode, is still a bit further, but we will get there, and this election will help us to add more miners to our ranks. Everyone had great things to say. How are you convincing them?”

  Ofana looked at Brian. Brian looked at Ofana. He extended a hand to Konrabi, and Ofana blanched. This was the first of her problems, people who just needed to be talked to and they tumble into her lap. Now that she saw Konrabi. She wondered if she could ever measure up.

  Brian leaned over and whispered in her ear. “She is only worth 500 Million Crowns, while you are worth-what?-a billion and a half and growing almost daily.”

  She looked at him in surprise.

  Brian withdrew and said: “I’m supposed to obtain information. Your information will be safe with me.”

  “Konrabi I had to reach into the annals of history to come up with this campaign. A leader of one of the nation-states. During his campaign, he wore a button with the letters W-I-P. He did not mention it until the near the election.”

  “Astonishing, what did WIP mean?”

  “Whip Inflation Now, Konrabi.”

  “What is inflation?”

  “At the time the Nations of the world agreed to not back their currency with precious metals. Nations with good economies had more valuable money that other Nations. Sometimes a Nation-state would try to print their way out of a bind. It leads to outrages like a man wheelbarrowing his daily pay home.

  “We don’t have that. Our currencies are based on the Gold you possess in the bank of Record, the Pan-galactic Eridani Bank.”

  “Do we have to join this Bank if we don’t want to.”

  Ofana allowed Brian to answer the question.

  “Of course joining the bank is purely voluntary. If you wish to leave, you must come and get your Gold at Eridani. It is a long and tedious process of check and double check. Once everything is checked, your ship gets an escort to the Hyper Exclusion Zone.”

  “Of course, you can add and subtract some gold.”

  “Of course,” said Brian. “It is a real bank even people can have an account there. We generally only put one Bank on each world.”

  “Why would a simple bodyguard know so much about the workings of the Mint?”

  “I am an agent of the Secret Service, among other things, we are charged with the health of the currency and coinage.”

  Konrabi was looking like she was trying to put two pieces of information together. That told Brian a lot, and it appeared that Anton Hecton had been here. That knowledge put Brian on alert.

  Ofana felt Brian go on alert over something. She looked at him, trying to get him to look at her. He stubbornly refused to look at her.

  Konrabi brought the subject back to her. “So, what is it that you wish me to do?”

  Ofana shook her head and reached into her handbag. She pulled out a couple of strips that she had the Library print up. She dropped the paper on her desk. Konrabi picked up one of the pieces. The paper was a goldenrod. The ink was black. The message was simple: “Time for a change.”

  “University?”

  “As good as going to College, Tutorials with college profs.”

  “That sounds like the Emir’s way with his family. His sons he sends to University. His daughters get tutors.”

  “He intends to marry us off like so much chattel.”

  “Doesn’t he wait until you find someone?”

  “What?”

  Brian chuckled. “She’s so used to playing the aggrieved daughter she did not notice her younger sisters being married to men of their own choosing.”

  Ofana looked at Brian, still laughing, laughing at her. Then she realized how much of a drag she had been to her sister’s weddings. Now she understood why her sisters ran from the wedding planning meeting with Mom. They had wanted to exclude her.

  “—in some primitive societies where the Older boy goes through an ordeal,” said Brian. “The Ordeal is supposed to wake the boy up to reality. The boy is always returned to his tribe a much different person.”

  “You suggest that is what the Emir is doing here? He sent his daughter out here to have an ordeal?”

  “I don’t think he consciously is applying this principle. He is much too busy to scheme like that.”

  “Don’t count out, scheming,” Konrabi said. “He has had a few years to plan something like this. Brian, you look like a man who plans out something for three or four days. You are better than the majority of people. The Emir may take years for his plans to come to fruition.”

  “How do you know so much?” Ofana asked:

  “I am an actor. That is to say, I am a mirror to society. I must know all the edges, colors, and personalities so that I can reflect them back to society. You won’t tell me too much about yourself. Let me tell you about what I see about Brian Butler.”

  Konrabi sat up in her chair. She regarded Brian through knowing eyes.

  “You have seen battle. You use that in the current job you hold. There was a rumor of a new Agent being trained for the Eridani Secret Service, and he would have unprecedented authority, especially in the field. You are one of these Special Agents, Brian Butler.

  “You are currently wearing a gray work uniform, but you are not comfortable. A gray Business suit for you, a Tuxedo for nightwear. You’re more comfortable carrying your pistol than in that assault rifle you wear over your shoulder. You fly, but you’re prudent. Flying means more consumption of precious Radamite. I think you are one of these new-fangled Special Agents, Special Agent Brian Butler.”

  “Are you Eridani Secret Service?”

  “No, My story is true. I just can read people well, a talent I honed on the stage.”

  “What is it you want from me,” Konrabi asked Ofana?

  “I need you to distribute these fliers and encourage your people to vote, and vote how they want.”

  “You are taking an awful risk. The Giesling voter is willful.”

  “I’m trusting that person is tired of stagnation and one-party rule.”

  “I am, for sure. If I need more of the strips?”

  “The Library will print up what you need. The Rector is having a ball running the printing press.”

  “The slips need to be cut from the sheet. Then someone passes them out.”

  “Don’t forget to have the admo
nition to pass the strip on to someone else.”

  “Your speeches are being covered across the planet. I am sure that your father is liking what he is seeing. Not playing up the Eridani card is smart. You are going to leave us by playing the Eridani card. ‘When you are ready to join us among the stars.’”

  “You want to give that speech,” she said.

  Konrabi got out of her chair. She felt Ofana’s pulse. She felt Ofana’s Forehead with the back of her hands. She turned to Brian and spoke commander to a soldier. “I will not tolerate you trying to second-guess me, Mister Special Agent. Why are you laughing?”

  Brian smiled, showing his teeth. “I’ve been trying to get her to take a day. She miscounted days by one. She is three days ahead of the speech. Instead of one. She wants one or two days to rest for the speech, then I yank her home.”

  “Before the treaty is completed?”

  “That I will leave to the career diplomats.”

  “She isn’t one?”

  “When were you last on, Eridani?”

  “I have not been to Eridani in ten years.”

  “I should have introduced her as one of the top two party girls on Eridani.”

  Konrabi crooked her finger at Brian. “Let me show you to the green room.”

  “Green Room—Theatre reference?”

  “Very good. High school or some college or University?”

  “High School and curiosity.”

  “You are correct. It is that room that actors retire to await their next cue. She needed it. If she asks for tender caresses, give it. If she wants something more strenuous, use your best judgment.”

  The green room was indeed colored green. Brian wondered if it was for the Theatrical relations or Wizard of Oz. Knowing the Konrabi, it was both.

  Brian saw to the teams. He had them mount a two guard element at the door to the room. He then gave them leave to fraternize with Konrabi’s people. As the sun came down on the Palace and Brian stamped around the palace. He noticed that all of the women were with their friends. There was even a friend for his odd man.

  He returned to the Green Room, took off his clothes, and got into bed with Ofana. One this mission, he always asked what would be next, as he fell asleep.

  Brian woke with someone touching him gently. He grabbed the person and rolled them on the bed and onto his lap. The playful laughter told him who it was. He held her up, looking at her. She said nothing but pulled the caftan over her head.

  Naked and on his lap, Ofana took the bobby pins out of her hair. She let her long Black hair spill down her back. It was an odd feeling to feel her hair touching his groin while she sat on his crotch. That was something that not every man could say that they thought their lover’s hair on their groin while Their love lay on the said groin.

  Brian reached up to make love to her. She put her hand down to stop him. “I want to rape you.”

  “It’s hardly rape, Ofana. You have my full consent.”

  “I know-how do I say it? I want to lead.”

  “You want to drive?”

  “Yes. I have been made love to before, some mediocre, and others gloriously well like you. I have never driven before.”

  “As of now, you are driving.”

  Brian laid back. He closed his eyes. Sometimes the eyes can throw off a participant. Later on, he can open his eyes as a mark as to what she’s done.

  Ofana knew that she was doing everything right. She was getting no closer to completion. She slapped his chest. “How come I can’t bring you to the Mountain Top?”

  “With a man, it is the rhythm and the same technique for a little more than the five or six times you repeat.”

  “Also, you need to introduce papa to mama.”

  It took a few moments for her to realize she had neglected the raison d’être when dealing with most males. She corrected the oversight. Then she started again.

  Outside the green room, Konrabi was seeking admittance. Their guards were blocking the entrance. What stopped a potential problem was what Brian said.

  “Ga’ damn, Amelia, that is what I am talking about!”

  That statement allowed the guards to let in the Konrabi into the room. Konrabi saw the tableau of Brian laying on the bed and the Ofana sitting on him.

  “I need you to be quick about this. An Issue has been made of your presence here from our local Grav-rod gang. I had hoped that the last decimation would have taught them a lesson.”

  “No,” said Brian. “They are in charge. You have to tell them that they are not only wrong very firmly, but fucking wrong, sorry about the language.”

  “Actor here, I have heard it all while building a set, and have spoken it, especially during a Hammermill play. But my Problem is that I am not military.”

  “Can you follow an improvisation?”

  “Yes.”

  “You are Major General Max Benet. You know that you have suited troopers on their way. His unit is out of power and armor, and they are wearing undersuits and are firing athros. Max made the enemy think they were fresh troops. It gave them a moment to get close and use their knives.”

  Brian pulled out his freshly laundered gray suit. The shirt was pressed as he liked it. His shoes were polished, and Brian took his Dopp kit into the bathroom. He took a shower. When Brian came out, Brian put on the suit. He holstered his pistol in the concealed carry holster. Then Brian checked that his knife was still in the collar sheath sewn into the suit. He put two filled Magazines for the Athro into his Internal suit coat pockets.

  Before he left for the Courtyard, he gave orders to his Team. They all looked solemn. He touched each man or woman. Then he turned to the Konrabi.

  “Will you see Ofana off on her journey.”

  “That is guaranteed.”

  “I need a little stage magic. Can you open the door without anyone being seen?

  “Yes, we can do that.”

  “Can you put your guards on the parapet?”

  “Of course,” said Konrabi.

  “Wait until the moment to show them. I think you will know when to show them.”

  Brian put on his sunglasses. Then he picked up his Athro. Brian stood before the trouble doors. They opened it, and he walked out of the Palace. He stood in the Courtyard lit by the sun. Then Brian took out his Badge Wallet. He opened it and hung the wallet from his breast pocket.

  He stood there protected by the fact that this grav-rod gang was, in essence, a mob with some structure. Kill the man at the head of that mob, and they would devolve into a group of groups. There may be animosities that will come to the fore. That was his basic plan.

  Brian started to walk to the center of the Courtyard. One of the gang members was sitting on his Grav-rod. This looked a chess move. The Gang leader was offering a pawn. Without saying a word, he fired a single shot. The man fell off his Grav-rod.

  “Kilty,” said a voice screaming in anger.

  Brian looked at where the voice came. He had to do this fast. Next came anger and his death. He wanted anger he could control.

  Brian found the source of the voice. Brian faced him and quietly pointed his weapon on the gang leader.

  “My Name is Brian Butler.”

  Ofana was on the parapet with Konrabi. “Oh, he’s going to do it!”

  “Do what?”

  “Tell them that he is here to restore order. I heard this speech before. Kind of stirring if you are the side of good.”

  “I am a Special Agent of Eridani Secret Service, and this town is under the protection of Eridani. I have a mission, and you are interfering. The Penalty for interfering with a Special Agent is death. You are free to depart now, and no retribution will be sought.”

  About a third of the riders rode off. The rest of the gang laughed. After a moment, the Gang leader remained where he was sitting on his bike.

  Brian pointed at the Gang Leader with his Athro. “Let’s fight this out you and me!”

  “Not with that weapon you have there. You could dust me from fa
r away. That is hardly fair.”

  “Okay, you drop your guns, I’ll drop mine.”

  Brian watched. He matched the gang leader to move for more to move. Then Brian reached to the back collar and pulled out his fighting knife.

  “You have a knife?” he asked the Leader.

  The Leader lifted up a huge sword, and Brian smiled. He beckoned the Gang-leader to advance, and, The gang leader had his grav-rod fired up. Using his legs, he walked the Grav-rod forward.

  The thing about the Special Agent Model 23 carbon fiber fighting knife was that Quartermaster tried to cram as much as they could into the fiber of the blade. The one thing they also put into the knife was a balance, enough balance to allow what Brian was going to do.

  The Gang-leader walked his grav-rod past a point in the sand that allowed Brian to throw his knife with some certainty. He also had a trick up his sleeve. Agent Model 23 was designed to be thrown from the point. Brian practiced a single hand maneuver that ended with the tip in his hand. It looked like he was playing with the knife. Brian made the maneuver. Then he threw the knife suddenly. It ended up embedded in the man’s chest. The gang leader fell off his Grav-rod.

  Now was the crucial moment. The gang was surprised by the sudden attack. Using that critical moment, Brian started to deploy his shuriken’s into both left and right hand. He flipped a shuriken at this person and that. Confronted by an unknown weapon, the Gang members were trying to drive their rides out of there.

  Out of shurikens, Brian toed his Athro and flung it up. He grabbed the sub-assault rifle. Brian set it to full auto, and Brian emptied the magazine at the gang members. Then he went to a knee and loaded his second magazine while he did that. The five members of his Team also unloaded a full clip. Brian pointed up, and Konrabi’s palace guard received their baptism of fire.

  While his eyes searched for targets, he saw a man wearing a white lumpy silk suit. He was walking as fast as he could. Brian was sure that it had to be Anton Hecton. He drew a bead on Hecton’s back, but his limits of what he could do if he found Hecton came to mind. Hecton was running away, no threat to anyone at this time. He had no visible weapon. Brian blew out and flapped his lips. Nothing was said about not making him run faster.