by Vincent Vale
The crowd pounded their mugs and shouted warm greetings: “Lord Orsteen Hunn has arrived! How about a round for the house, Master Orsteen? Who are these smallies you bring for our amusement?”
Orsteen hushed the crowd. “Today you’re graced by the presence of four brave souls. They’re on a mission against the Obelisks. Please, treat them with respect.” He smiled broadly. “Now, carry on with passion—our lives shouldn’t be wasted in dull moments!”
The crowd again became excited, guzzling their drinks in a collective toast.
Allienora moved close to Orsteen. “Do you think it’s wise to announce our intentions? The Scions of Sensimion have gone to great lengths to keep our presence on your world a secret.”
“Our presence won’t be known,” said Orsteen. “I’ve disabled the city’s telecommunication nodes. We’re completely isolated from the rest of the solar system.”
“I shouldn’t have questioned you,” said Allienora.
“You think of the welfare of the group. A worthy cause for second-guessing.”
We sat at a large, round table, where an AI-droid took our orders. It returned with five heavy mugs brimming with amber ale and a platter of small, gooey balls. All in the group, except Orsteen, sat like miniatures at the huge table. I noticed a single bioluminescent slug roaming the table’s surface. Its pulsing glow reminded me of the exotic energy that exuded from Defense Minister Renworth Vole.
A man approached the table. He was the smallest Miner I’d seen.
“Master Orsteen!” he said in a high-pitched voice that suited his small size. “You bring me new customers from the reaches of the solar system. My establishment will no doubt become legendary throughout all the worlds of men.”
Orsteen wrapped a friendly arm around the man. “Everyone, this is the owner of The Scented Slug, Glum. His family has been tossing drinks here for over four hundred Mercurial days. He’s a good friend, despite his tendency to dabble in questionable endeavors.” He looked to Glum nostalgically. “If I recall the last incident correctly, you were in trouble for selling cheap swill obtained from a criminal from Blackrot City. The beverage wasn’t just disgusting, it also caused an epidemic of crawling hives.”
“In all fairness,” said Glum, “I wasn’t aware of the swindler’s reputation. Not to mention, I sampled the shipment myself and was immune to the illness.” Everyone glanced at their drinks and Glum continued. “Don’t worry, I’ve learned my lesson, and now only serve the choicest of swill.” He let out a cackling laugh that pierced everyone’s ears.
Orsteen’s face became serious. “My friends and I are here to meet a group called the Scions of Sensimion.” Orsteen gestured to me. “Have you seen anyone with such brilliant blue eyes in your establishment?”
“No,” said Glum, looking at me curiously. “Such eyes would’ve caught my attention. However, let me ask the AI-droids. They notice many more things than I. While I’m at it, I’ll fetch you our premium ale.”
Glum returned with five fresh mugs and five empty bowls too small for serving food. “This is twenty-day-old Grobblemoss ale. Drink lightly or your heads will swim. And here are some smoking bowls in case you decide to indulge in the slug.”
I pushed the bowl away. “Have your AI-droids seen anyone suspicious, Glum?”
“Only a group of Far Reach Miners. They were spotted an hour ago. If their appearance is relevant, you must decide. Excuse me. I must return to my other guests. Profit awaits.” Glum bowed his head and departed the group.
Morion stuffed his mouth with a gooey purple appetizer. “Who are these Far Reach Miners, Orsteen? Could they be our contact?”
“Unlikely,” responded Orsteen. “They’re a community of Miners that rarely come into the public eye. They’re a strange bunch. Their words are few and their expressions are vacant. It’s thought inbreeding is the cause of their strangeness. I don’t think they’re involved with the Scions of Sensimion.” Orsteen pushed the platter of appetizers closer to Morion. “It’s good to see you’re enjoying our cuisine.”
Morion held up one of the purple balls and inspected it. “I tend to consider myself a bit of a gastronome and have never tasted such a flavor. What are these delicious tidbits?”
“Coagulated cave creature blood mixed with spices. They’re exquisite in taste but lack nutrition.”
“Er... interesting.” Morion promptly signaled the AI-droid for more ale.
Allienora took a sip from her mug. “How much longer must we be strung along by these Scions of Sensimion? Can we truly place the fate of the Earth in their hands?”
Morion licked his lips clean. “From what Theron has told us of the Fume’s supernatural powers, it would seem the Scions of Sensimion are overconfident. Do they think we can retaliate against such a powerful entity?”
“And what do we really know about the Scions of Sensimion?” said Orsteen. “It’s remarkable we were all so easily persuaded here.”
“Doubt will get us nowhere,” I said. “In grim times, it’s better to entertain any small promise of hope than to give in to hopelessness. We all live our lives to endure the unrelenting gnaw of death. It’ll swallow us whole one day. Until that day, I’ll fight for my place in this universe.”
“Theron’s right!” said Thirm, slamming his mug down on the case holding the Level-4 Quantum Bomb and causing everyone’s eyes to widen. “We must think positive. The Scions of Sensimion have thus far acted with admirable foresight.”
Orsteen leaned toward me. “Let’s get to the meat of the matter, Theron. Tell us about your interactions with Defense Minister Renworth Vole—or the Fume, as you call him? Are you sure he didn’t indicate his motives?”
“Again, I can only tell you that the Fume has been manipulating humankind for thousands of years, preparing us for something.” I paused, wondering if I should continue. “This may sound dramatic, but when I was standing near his unnatural aura, it felt like my mind was being twisted to his will—or its will.” I shuddered. “He’s pure fucking evil.”
Everyone stared at me.
“I’m not delusional!” I said.
“These are stressful times,” said Orsteen.
I should tell them how the Fume murdered my wife and unborn child. This will convince them. I took a chug of ale. No! They can’t know I share his memories.
Allienora placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. “I was standing with you, next to the defense minister, and didn’t sense such evil. Nevertheless, there’s something about that interaction that’s been nagging me. With the Fume’s ability to either kill or resurrect a man with a gesture, how did we escape?”
“I’ve also wondered that. Why allow us to escape? What purpose could we possibly serve?”
My thoughts lapsed back to the sanitarium. Then, too, I had escaped the Fume. Was my path into the world just another of the Fume’s manipulations?
Over more drinks, we started guessing the Fume’s motives. We touched on all the scenarios of alien encounters imagined by cheap fiction and daydreamers—from the gathering of resources, to the encroachment into a habitable world, to the enslavement of mankind, and even to the revolting possibility of humans as food.
Gradually, our moods lightened from the ale and the conversation shifted to less consequential matters. While Allienora argued with Thirm Bastile about his illegal arms business, I listened to Morion’s thoughts on the perfect woman.
Morion spoke with spirit: “I need a woman with ample breasts, a face of innocence, and an ass of inviting dimension.”
“These are fleeting qualities,” said Orsteen. “With time, the breasts sag, the face becomes haggard, and the ass become flat. I seek a woman of intellectual character, one who will challenge my own intellect and bring a spring to my step.”
Morion indicated a female Miner, who flaunted her goods around the tavern, moving from Miner to Miner, speaking sexual innuendos. “I believe I’ve found a woman whose fleeting qualities could satisfy my desires.”
Orsteen thre
w down some Mercurial bits in front of Morion. “Such women can be had for the right price, my friend. This tavern serves more than food and drink. But if you’re shy about the real thing, Glum deals some quality SLIP code.”
“The real thing will do,” said Morion with scheming eyes. He collected Orsteen’s money, rose from the table, and swaggered with obvious intent toward the woman.
I watched as Morion whispered in her ear. Her eyes lit up and she quickly escorted Morion from the tavern’s main room.
With Morion gone, the rest in the company continued in leisurely conversation. I removed myself from the discussion and sat in silence. The extravagant functions of my synthetic eyes had drained my energy.
I gazed into my half-empty mug. This ale is strong. I’m drunk.
I observed my surroundings with a twisted perspective and noticed the bioluminescent slug still wandering the table. It had accomplished nothing since our arrival. If it was on a quest for food, Morion had beaten it to the blood balls. If it was in search of a mate, there was none in the area to romance with its luminous display. Despite all its beauty, it had two sad eyes resting on long, slender stalks. It seemed to stare at me, as if to say, The whole weight of the universe bears down on my dorsal.
I thought, We’re one and the same, my friend, two beings drowning in the mysteries of life.
As I pondered the slug’s significance in the universe with respect to my own, Orsteen snatched it up with two fat fingers and threw it into the small bowl before him. The bottom of the bowl vaporized the slug into a puff of thick smoke. In one deep inhalation, Orsteen sucked in the totality of the slug’s existence. As I mourned its departure from the universe, I realized the slug’s pungent, sweet smell explained the tavern’s name.
An hour later, Morion returned to the table with a limp. “I think I’ve been abused... dominated.”
Orsteen laughed. “It’s a risk you must take with the females of Mercury. Especially when they’re bigger than you.”
While the company talked of Mercurial customs, my attention drifted to Allienora. My God, she’s beautiful. I covertly fawned over her, admiring her subtle mannerisms that made her even more attractive—the curl of her lip when she smiled, the inflection of her voice when she spoke with passion, and the innocent expression she made when embarrassed.
Allienora noticed my gaze and returned a demure side-glance. I immediately looked away, but a moment later I was again drawn in by her allure.
Once again, Allienora noticed my stealing looks. “Have I sprouted another head?”
“Do you feel it, Allienora?” I asked.
“What?”
“This,” I said, pointing back and forth from me to her.
She smiled. “Is this our first date, Theron?”
“Maybe our second. Our first was at Vega’s, being tortured.”
“You’re right,” she said. “And afterward we slept together... in a box of cryo-gel.”
I smiled and took her hand. “I’ve been under a lot of stress, lately. But, through it all, I find myself thinking of you, even when you’re an arm’s length away.” My head whirled and my legs went numb. I felt like a youth again. I peered into her blue eyes. “I really like you, Allienora. I haven’t felt like this in a long time.”
Allienora leaned close to me and whispered, “I feel it too, Theron, but I’m afraid you’re drunk.”
“Possibly. However, these feelings are real. I had them before we started drinking. I hope I’m not making an ass of myself.”
Our date ended when the tavern door swung open, revealing a Miner with an unshapely head and strange facial features. Most in the tavern made expressions as though the Miner weren’t welcome. A few cautious patrons covered their mugs, as if to guard from any diseased particles that might shed from the ugly Miner.
“Observe,” said Orsteen. “An example of the Far Reach Miners I described earlier. Notice how his face remains in a single static expression.”
“He’s coming this way,” I said in surprise.
The Far Reach Miner stood at our table and took interest in the cases brought by Thirm Bastile and Morion Morpheme. “Are these the devices requested?”
“They are,” said Thirm. “I demand to be paid. I’m done with your secretive games.”
“You’ll get paid when the device is authenticated,” said the Miner calmly. “All of you must come with me.”
Thirm threw up his hands and rose from the table.
I signaled everyone to remain seated. “You don’t resemble a Scion of Sensimion.”
“You must trust me, I’m a Scion of Sensimion, pledged to fight against the Fume. Other than this, I can’t prove my identity. Although, Theron, you can see I don’t exude the glow of the Fume.”
“This means little, since the Fume can’t go beyond the confines of the dimension shrouding Earth. For all we know, you’re one of his human minions.”
Allienora introduced herself to the Miner. “I’m the Prime Minister of Earth, Allienora Chang. Before I was Prime Minister, I worked for a special intelligence unit that was tracking the Scions of Sensimion.”
“Really?” I interrupted. Allienora continued to surprise me.
“I didn’t just become Prime Minister because of my father, Theron. I worked my way up. I had to prove myself.”
The Far Reach Miner held up his hand. “I’m aware of the position you held, Prime Minister. You even helped capture some of our people. They were executed for treason because of you.”
“At the time, we thought the Scions of Sensimion were anarchists. They killed various members of government and industry.”
“Those were the Fume’s human minions,” replied the Far Reach Miner.
“Now we know,” said Allienora. “If you are a Scion of Sensimion, you should know details of the attacks.”
“Give me your best shot.”
“On July 9, 3054 the Scions of Sensimion planted a Tetrion explosive under Senator Robert Clay’s transport. My division captured your man and destroyed the bomb on site.”
“I remember the event vividly,” said the Far Reach Miner. “It was a Sunday.”
“I was there that day,” said Allienora. “I saw the device before it was destroyed. One detail never made it into the report.”
“I’m waiting.”
“What color was the bomb’s reaction chamber?”
“Is that it?” said the Miner. “The chamber was an old micro-fusion core. It was yellow.”
Allienora looked to me and nodded. “He’s right.”
“Of course, I’m right. I made the bomb.”
I put my hand on Morion’s case. “We know you’re putting together a very powerful weapon. And before we give you the means to build such a weapon, we must understand how you intend to use it against the Fume and the Obelisks. Orsteen pointed out earlier that such a weapon would destroy Obelisks, Earth, and all.”
The Miner inspected the tavern’s patrons. “Forcing me to reveal our plan in public would be careless.”
“Easily solved,” said Orsteen, rising from the table. He led the company to a back storage room. “You may now speak without worry of enemy ears.”
Apparently satisfied, the Scion of Sensimion reached into his bag and produced a small disc. He held it on his palm and it cast a hologram of the solar system into the upper air of the storage room. He moved a searching finger through the planets. “Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, the outer planets, and here, beyond Pluto, lurks the source of the Obelisks.”
It was a breathtaking spherical construct.
Morion stood directly below it. “It looks like some kind of alien craft.”
“It’s an interstellar vessel, as big as Mercury,” replied the Scion of Sensimion.
Hovering on one side of the vessel was an orb of blue energy a quarter of the sphere’s diameter. I didn’t know what it was but it was something powerful—a technology thousands of years ahead of us. Its surface pulsed, swirled and shifted. It was like a condensed ball of
pure energy, somehow contained and harnessed by the giant vessel. “What’s that?”
“We think it’s a dimensional gateway engine. A lot like yours, Theron. But powerful enough to create a dimensional fissure that could accommodate the planet-sized vessel.”
“It’s beautiful,” I uttered.
“And the Obelisks came from this planet-sized vessel?” said Allienora.
“Indeed,” replied the Scion of Sensimion. “And this is what we want to destroy with the weapon.”
Orsteen pointed to Thirm Bastile’s case. “Even with such a powerful weapon, how can you be certain it’ll be destroyed?”
“Unlike the Obelisks, it’s not out of phase.” The Scion of Sensimion adjusted the hologram, enlarging the vessel and revealing the details of its beautifully constructed surface. “Also, we’ve detected openings that’ll allow us passage within, where we hope to deposit the weapon to ensure maximum damage.”
I shrugged. “Even if you destroy this vessel, how do you know its destruction will affect the Fume’s plans?”
The Scion of Sensimion turned off the hologram. “I guarantee nothing. If you insist on questioning our counterattack, do so on the way to my ship. We must move forward.”
Orsteen settled our bill with Glum and we departed The Scented Slug. We followed the Scion of Sensimion through caverns and tunnels, and eventually boarded a small conveyance that flew us through deep tunnels to the far reaches of Ironwrought.
We arrived in a secluded community of metal habitation modules. The townspeople went about their daily lives with a strange calmness. I noticed a pair of Miners in the process of assembling a new module. They worked together in an unnatural silence; neither seemed to acknowledge the other’s presence. Yet they worked with a steady precision. Nearby, in the street, a group of children played a game of gravityball with obvious disinterest. Something was definitely wrong with these people.
We followed the Scion of Sensimion to a habitation module built into one of the cavern walls. We ascended the front porch, where sat an elderly Miner. He greeted us without concern as we walked past him and entered the module.