Maybe he was just getting old. No, if he ever reached the age where he no longer felt compelled to act on known or suspected injustice, he would bloody well retire. He still enjoyed putting down the bad guys as much as ever. Slavery was abhorrent in N’plork societies, no matter what race you were, so it was definitely a hot- button issue and well worthy of his attention. So, what was holding him back?
Tol was still pondering as he walked into the central case file library for Tragacanthan EE. He sat down in one of the cubicles and started pulling records. Every cubicle had a copy of the master index list; investigators ticked the files they wanted to see and the automatic retrieval system dropped them down a chute. He selected records with the words ‘slave’ and ‘titan’ combined. Nothing popped up except the report he’d filed himself after returning from the Grollnash adventure.
He dropped the ‘titan’ keyword. A dozen files relating to people who claimed they’d been enslaved by one person or institution or the other came back; most of them were just rather loose definitions of ‘slave.’ So, he tried just ‘titan.’ Only a few files there, all of which were reports of people being terrorized by something they claimed was a ‘rock titan,’ but which proved to be the disgruntled next door neighbor or some wild critter that came down from the mountains looking for food.
He sighed again and headed over to the Royal Library to study up on titan society. The shelves weren’t entirely bare, but titans in the past were rather secretive—so much so that most of the other residents of N’plork thought they were either entirely mythical or extinct, at least until they suddenly began streaming into Hellehoell answering a summons no one else heard. There were a few slim tomes on archaeological finds with their attendant thinly-grounded speculations on function and social customs, but nothing concerning the titans’ views on enslavement or interracial breeding. Was that because there was nothing to report, or had it been expertly covered up by the titans themselves?
After a morning spent reading what little there was on titan social customs, Tol realized that he was just going to have to head back to Hellehoell and talk to the titans in person. He sighed one last time for good measure and filed the travel paperwork, then sent a message to Selpla that he would return in a couple of days.
Tol spent the carriage ride to Fenurian carefully devising the approach he was going to take. It had to be direct, at which he was quite adept, yet diplomatic, at which he was really not. He went back and forth among various planned strategies but in the end decided just to wing it, as always.
Because he was responding through official diplomatic channels, Tol was met at the station by the Tragacanthan Ambassador to Hellehoell, a career diplomatic service goblin named Liloth Tigli. She discussed the slavery issue with Tol and tried to convince him to gloss over it, which he flatly refused to do. He did promise her not to be accusatory or negative about it, however. Tol merely wanted, as he told the Ambassador, to ascertain the truth of the matter. If the titans wished to legitimize slavery within their society, they had the legal, if not moral, right to do so. Tol could not be compelled to countenance that practice, though.
Tol had steeled himself for what could prove to be a nasty confrontation, but the reality was quite different. He explained to Tartag that he was uncomfortable revealing the whereabouts of Korq before he investigated some disturbing claims the young titan had made concerning treatment of half-breeds. Tartag seemed genuinely perplexed at Korq’s report of being enslaved. He was the son of a prominent titan scholar whose life’s work had been research into improving crop yields to maximize the number of titans fed from a given plot of arable land. Because of his father’s inclusion amongst the heroes of titan society, Korq’s fate was of considerable importance to the people of Hellehoell; especially given that he simply, from their point of view, disappeared without a word.
“What sorts of experiments did his father do?”
Tartag consulted a document provided by the institute where Korq’s father was employed. “It says here he did selective cross- breeding, genetic manipulation, and something called ‘varietal magnification.’ He magnified certain nutritional attributes of food plants by very narrow and concentrated selective breeding.”
Tol considered this and had a thought. He didn’t know where the thought came from; it didn’t seem to be from his own brain.
“Is it possible that Korq himself did a little ‘experimentation’ with his father’s modified plants and ingested something that affected his thought processes? Specifically, generated a form of paranoia in him?”
Tartag blinked. “I...I suppose that is a possibility. I would have to consult with our experts. What made you think of that?”
Tol shook his head. “I’m not sure. I just felt when I was talking to Korq that something wasn’t quite clicking with his story. He told me that titans enslaved any who were not racially pure and that, as a half-breed, he had been essentially forced labor for pure-bred titans. His rhetoric reminded me of the drug-induced paranoids I ran into from time to time on the streets of Sebacea.”
Tartag was visibly shaken by this. Ambassador Tigli winced. “Your Excellency, I’m certain that Sir Tol-u-ol was not suggesting that there is slavery extant in Hellehoell. Were you, Sir Tol?” Tigli looked at him pointedly.
Tol shrugged. “I’m not suggesting anything at all. I’m just telling you why I am reluctant to divulge the whereabouts of Korq until I get some hard facts concerning his claims. Edict enforcement officers are sworn to protect the people they serve. When Korq and I left here together, this was Tragacanth territory and therefore under my jurisdiction. I was and am bound by that oath.”
“Of course you are, Sir Tol-u-ol,” said Tartag, “I would not under any circumstances ask you to violate your oath. You must understand that I am simply responding to a request from Korq’s family to ascertain his whereabouts. They are very concerned about him.”
Tol did not let up. “He was very concerned about being dragged back here against his will. From what I could tell, he would be considered an adult, is that correct?”
“Yes,” replied one of Tartag’s staff, “Korq is above the age of legal ascendency by Hellehoell edict and titan custom.”
Tol thought in silence for a few moments. “I will tell you where he is, on the condition that you give me your word that he will be allowed to live his life in the way, and location, in which he sees fit.”
Tartag did not hesitate. “You have my sworn word on that, Sir Tol. We just want to be sure he is all right. We believe he is most likely with his mother’s relations, which would be perfectly acceptable.”
Tol let out a sigh of relief. “That is precisely where he is, Your Excellency; at least, that’s where he told me he was headed. I left him in the company of trolls at the docks in Port Jool. He seemed very happy.”
Tartag smiled. “Thank you, Sir Tol. That news will put his father and relatives here in Hellehoell at ease. His mother passed a few years ago; her family never approved of the marriage and refuse to communicate with any on his father’s side. They blame him in some way for her death, I suspect.”
“Korq told me that he was the product of...rape.”
Tartag put his face in his hands. “I just don’t know why he would make such a terrible accusation. I knew his mother personally for a short while; she was happily married, I can assure you. Her death was a devastating blow to Dr. Rerris. This is all very disturbing.” He seemed on the verge of weeping.
“I still have unanswered questions myself, Your Excellency. Would it be at all possible for me to speak with Korq’s father in person?”
“I will ask him,” Tartag replied. He motioned to his staff, one of whom hurried off.
“His father’s name, incidentally, is Dr. Anbeg Rerris. He is senior reader and research coordinator in agricultural sciences at the Jiwqal Institute here in Hellehoell. Korq is his only child. To be perfectly frank, very few titan-related interracial assignations produce children. We aren’t certain why, but tho
se that do almost always involve a titan as the male parent. The idea that we would enslave the children thus produced is untenable for several reasons: first, since children are very rare in those cases they are usually loved even more intensely for it; second, they are so rare that enslaving them wouldn’t really make any difference to our labor pool; third, slavery of any sort is abhorrent to titans as a society; early in our history there were cases where titans were ourselves enslaved because we were few in number, immensely strong, and feared by the other races. Ignorance quite often engenders fear, which leads to mistrust and frequently, abuse. Because we have been enslaved, we as a society utterly reject that practice.”
Just then the assistant came back into the room and whispered to Tartag. “Dr. Rerris is willing to speak with you. He will meet us downstairs in the first floor conference area.”
Tol nodded and followed him down to the indicated room. In contrast to the fairly intimate setting of the Odinial’s private conference suite, the main conference facility was quite expansive. It was still well- appointed with comfortable chairs, plenty of audio-visual capability and beautiful glonkwood tables with elaborate carving. The acoustics were quite excellent, as well, especially for lower frequencies that corresponded to the titans’ speaking voices. As was the custom with all titan public buildings, the walls were covered in rich tapestries depicting various scenes from the titans’ long history, much of it unknown to other races. Tol felt drawn to their examination and had to remind himself that he was there on a mission.
Dr. Rerris wasn’t really the talkative sort, but after a few minutes of questioning Tol got him to admit that a couple of the plants he’d developed did exhibit psychotropic properties. He verbally resisted any suggestion on Tol’s part that they might have had something to do with Korq’s delusions and strong desire to flee, but Tol could tell he’d planted a seed, as it were. He thanked the professor and sent him on his way.
“I think I’ve gathered all the information I need, Your Excellency. You now know as much about Korq’s disappearance and whereabouts as I do, and I in turn have some answers, tentative though they may be. I would appreciate being kept informed about future developments concerning this case, if for no other reason than it would provide me with more tools for evaluating this sort of behavior if I encounter it again.”
“Agreed,” replied Tartag, “This situation has reminded me of the importance of cooperation with other races and governments. It has been many centums since titans have been in a position to consider such things; it will take time and experience to ‘normalize’ our collective mentality, I’m afraid.”
“From my point of view you did just fine,” said Tol. “You didn’t rush to judgment, you didn’t make any rash decisions, and you acted in a totally responsible and reasonable manner. I don’t think you’re going to need much ‘normalizing’ at all.” Ambassador Tigli gave Tol a smile and a surreptitious ‘thumbs up’ at this.
Tartag also smiled.“You are most kind, Sir Tol. I understand His Majesty Tragacanth’s decision to create a new office of knighthood for you. You are a rare combination of tough, uncompromising, and thoughtful. If you are willing, I would like to bring you back at some point to help train our own edict enforcement people.”
“I am most certainly willing, Your Excellency. Training is a part of my responsibilities that, to be honest, I have let slide more than I should.”
“Then it is settled. My office will get with you on topics and scheduling.”
“I am,” Tol said, shaking Tartag’s hand, “Always at your service.”
Phaeon was a native of interstellar space, or rather, spacetime fabric before it was stretched to form the current universe, but he never ceased to be enthralled and enraptured by the spectacle of stars, nebulae, and myriad other ways in which the matter-energy disturbance manifested itself. There were countless colors and forms, ranging from the breathtaking magnificence of vast multicolored dust clouds comprising stellar nurseries to the impossibly dense points of the smallest gravity wells, which appeared to Phaeon as pinpricks through which one could peer into the next universe over.
He wandered lonely as a cosmic ray for some time—not that time has any meaning when you are part and parcel of eternity— until his attention came to rest on a small blue planet whirled with white, brown, and green. It wasn’t much in the grand scheme of the multiverse, but then neither is anything else. The scale is simply too immense.
This planet was well outside of the dark energetic continuum, so magic wouldn’t be an issue here. Blue planets were always inhabited by one or more forms of life, usually sentient at some point in its progression. That suited him. Eventually he would provide them evidence of his presence and see how long it took them to figure it out. Once they did and were in danger of coming into actual contact, he would move on without telling them exactly why or how. It amused him, if entities born of quantum superpositional perturbation can be said to experience amusement.
As he approached the planet, the cloud of debris surrounding it told Phaeon precisely where they were in their development: very early space-age. Most races did not pay attention to how much junk they were depositing in near orbit until it began to interfere with their satellites and kill a few of them here and there. Eventually if they continued along the space exploration vector they would herd all the debris together and either vaporize it in the atmosphere or jettison it into deep space. He preferred the former, as the latter amounted to interstellar littering. The real irony came when a planet was sterilized or otherwise seriously disrupted by collision with another civilization’s jettisoned space junk. Rare, but it happened.
Phaeon did not want to deal with any even remotely advanced civilization on this occasion so he slid back a few thousand local years into the planet’s past. That would give him some time to settle in before they developed any significant technology.
Settling on a place to settle in was always a diverting exercise. This planet had expansive oceans: did he want to live deep beneath one? Inside a volcano? On the tallest peak? Inside the most massive peak? Decisions, decisions. Circling the planet a few times, Phaeon finally chose a broad expanse of unbroken brown and gray: a vast desert area. He descended through the burning sands and excavated a domain there, with an elaborate palace and boulevards leading to it. To mark the spot on the surface he erected three large cut stone block structures, each with four faces and coming to a point at the top. The entryway to the largest he marked with a word meaning ‘Private Property:’ Khufu.
Aspet and Boogla had just finished a sumptuous repast on the private balcony of the Royal Residence when a red light over the door leading back into their study began blinking in a particular pattern. Aspet stared at it for a few seconds and put down his napkin.
“Military alert. That can’t be good,” he sighed. “I’d better find out what’s up.” They returned to the study and Aspet pressed a button on his desk. A hidden panel slid open and a keypad popped up. He punched in a series of numbers and characters, waited until the green light came on, and entered another. The transceiver crackled into life.
“Your Majesty, we have a disturbing report from the Coastal Patrol. A patrol boat spotted a corvet sailing out of a makeshift pier north of Balom in Galanga. We have reason to believe it was full of orcs.”
“Why would you think that?” Aspet asked.
“Two reasons: first, two known individuals were positively identified on the vessel. Second, the registration was archaic and belongs to a ship known to have been taken by the orcs in a small skirmish about fifty years ago in Uzplenq.”
“Uzplenq? Are you telling me this fifty year-old corvet sailed all the way across the Noorprid Sea? Alone?”
“Yes on the sailing, but not necessarily alone. While we have no evidence the orcs have anything resembling a fleet, they could have as many as a half-dozen ships of the frigate class or smaller.”
“Which way was the orc ship headed?”
“Out to sea, Your Majesty
.”
“Any idea why?”
“None. But any movement of this sort is a violation of the worldwide Treaty of Mutual Containment. We must notify the international community and be prepared to fulfill our military obligations in this respect.”
Aspet sighed. “Understood. Have the Ministers of National Defense and International Relations start the notifications through diplomatic channels. I want a full cabinet meeting in one hour.”
“As you command, Majesty.”
Aspet turned to Boogla. “So much for a relaxing evening. Guess you better cancel the string quartet.”
Appendix
The Mythologies of N’plork
CoME Cultural Sociography Series #27
in which the physiognomy, races, and beliefs of N’plork are examined
Geography
N’plork is a water-dominated world with four principal land masses hosting a total of fifteen sovereign nations, in descending order of size: Esmia (Tragacanth, Galanga, Lardonica, Ovinis, Asmagon, the Paradiddle Islands); Turmia (Solemadrina, Rublosq, Tantatku); Litria (Spleroste, Frespiola, Hividz, Grosyem); and Bazgush (Azlymosh, Nerr). The diameter of N’plork is approximately 19,125 km. Oceans cover 80% of the planet’s surface. The day length is just under 22 hours, which gives N’plork a fairly rapid rotational velocity as inhabitable planets go. This creates some dramatic weather patterns that manifest themselves primarily as extremely expansive sea storms which regularly ravage the coasts of all continents except Bazgush, which is sheltered from direct effects by its proximity to Turmia, upwind.
The extensive Turmian mountain ranges, particularly the Folmnissi range with peaks exceeding twenty thousand meters, provide the nearby coast of Bazgush with considerable shelter from the prevailing winds. However, those same peaks effectively remove all the moisture from said winds as they scale to the upper limits of the atmosphere in climbing over them, so that sheltered coastal area of Bazgush is also N’plork’s most arid region, with periods of as long as twenty years with no measureable precipitation.
Gathering of the Titans: The Tol Chronicles Book 2 Page 31