The Crystal Clipper

by B. Roman

  “That's none of your business. Now why don't you be a good little boy, run along home, and stay out of grownup affairs.”

  “Anything that affects my father and sister is my affair,” David says, adamantly. “I'll do anything to keep them from being cheated by 'grownups' like you.”

  Fischbacher sneers. “And just what do you think you can do about it?”

  “I can go to the new owners of the company and tell them to keep my father on. He's the best draftsman in the business and you know it. You've seen his blueprints.”

  Fischbacher feigns indifference. “Blueprints? For what?”

  “For the trimmest, fastest, most powerful fleet of cargo ships ever designed. I'm sure they'd be interested, even if you aren't.”

  “You're father never showed me any such blueprints.”

  David laughs cynically at the man's gall. “That's a lie and you know it. Dad gave you a full set of those plans.”

  “Oh, yes,” Fischbacher pretends to search his memory. “I seem to recall. Very nice. But worthless at this point. At the end of the month I'll be completely out of the shipping business.”

  “Then you won't mind if I contact the new owners. I guarantee you they'll feel differently.”

  Fischbacher makes a point of speaking head on to David.

  “Well, Nickerson, I doubt you'll have any luck. This sale is a blind investment. No names are listed on the sale agreement.” His smirk says Ha. Gotcha.

  David is taken aback. He thought surely the sale was public record. He glares at Fischbacher a moment, then, poking his finger in the air defiantly he promises, “I'll find them. And when I do I'll let them know what a cold-hearted monster you really are.”

  David storms out. Janice steps back quickly out of his way. She follows him tentatively to the outer office, where David abruptly spins and faces her.

  “How could you even think of marrying him? How could you give up your whole life, your own dreams, for someone so cruel and heartless?”

  Janice is stunned by David's attack. “I don't think I have to justify my decisions to you…”

  “Your family helped to build this town, Janice, and helped to make Fischbacher rich and powerful. Then he squeezed the life out of them, forcing them out of their own business.”

  “He didn't force them out, exactly. He just bought a major share of the stocks -” Janice pauses, aware her defense of Nathan is a lame one.

  “Strictly business, right, Janice? Like now? Selling his employees out?”

  “You don't understand…”

  David grabs her hand and refers to the 20-carat diamond ring she wears. “I understand perfectly. Very impressive ring, Janice.” She pulls her hand away. “Just like Nathan Fischbacher – cold and hard. And you're becoming just like him.”

  David opens the door to leave, then pauses to force home another point. “My Aunt Dorothy is right. All the wrong people have the power. Too bad they don't know what to do with it.”

  David slams the door behind him. Janice jumps at the force of it. She takes a moment to compose herself, running a nervous hand over the collar of her chic linen suit, then enters Nathan's office.

  “Did that troublemaking upstart finally leave?” Fischbacher does not even look up from the pile of financial spreadsheets that cover his desk.

  “Yes, he's gone.” Janice stands there assessing Nathan.

  “Well, what is it?” he snaps impatiently, finally looking up at her.

  “About the blueprints – Isaac's designs.”

  “What about them?”

  “They were magnificent. You said so yourself.”

  “So I did.”

  “What are you going to do with them?”

  Fischbacher casts her an are you naive? look. “Sell them, of course, to the highest bidder.”

  “But you can't do that! They don't belong to you.”

  “Nickerson designed those plans while he was working for me, so they belong to me as work-for-hire.”

  “I can't believe you would do this. It's not right.”

  The surprise and disgust in Janice's eyes cause Fischbacher to move from behind his desk and stand by her. He places his hands patronizingly on Janice's shoulders and speaks in his most charming tone.

  “Now, Jan, don't get upset. This is strictly business. As soon as we're married you won't have to concern yourself with any of these little details. Let me make a quick phone call and then I'll take you to your favorite place for a nice, leisurely lunch. Just the two of us.”

  Janice appears mesmerized by his smoldering gaze. Demurely, she smoothes back a wisp of her jet black hair, which is neatly coifed in a fashionable twist at the nape of her neck. Nathan kisses her lightly, then coaxes her out the door. Janice returns to her desk and sinks into her chair. But then she notices Nathan's extension button is lit up on the phone. Timidly, she presses it down and carefully lifts the receiver to listen.

  Fischbacher's tone is low, but commanding. “Remember what I said. Don't let that snoopy kid find anything, not one shred of evidence. Is that clear?”

  The man on the other end of the phone reassures him. “Have I let you down yet? Don't worry about a thing. I've already set up a bogus file for this sale. No one will ever know who is buying your company.”

  “And if anyone did find out what was going on, not only would I go to jail, but you'd be occupying the cell next to mine,” Fischbacher warns him.

  Fischbacher hangs up the phone and Janice quickly replaces the receiver, visibly shaken by this conversation. She fingers her diamond engagement ring, turning it back and forth, back and forth on her finger.

  * * *

  In the City Administrator's office, David stands at the service counter sifting through a file of legal papers. He is disappointed that the information he hoped to find is not there. Is it legal to conduct business this way?

  “This can't be the whole file,” David protests, pounding the counter. “The names of the buyers aren't listed anywhere, or the date of the sale.”

  Harry Judd is a snarly little man with a condescending attitude, and David's intense staring at his lips so he can read them makes Judd even more belligerent. “I told you this was a very discreet sale.”

  “I'll contact Fischbacher's attorney. He can tell me what's going on.”

  “I doubt it, young man. Lawyer-client confidentiality and all that. I'm sorry,” Judd says, not expressing any sorrow at all.

  “Yeah. Me, too. But I'm not giving up yet. I'll be back.”

  Judd shrugs impassively, and David walks away more frustrated than ever. Once David is out of sight, however, Judd places the bogus file that David had examined back in the top drawer of the filing cabinet. From the bottom basket on his own desk he retrieves another file, one marked “Fischbacher Shipping: Sale,” and places it in his private desk drawer. He locks the drawer and tucks the key in his vest pocket.

  * * *

  Bemused, Isaac Nickerson watches the setting sun tint the sky with red and purple ribbons of twilight. He swings idly back and forth on the glider in the same tranquil rhythm of the ocean waves as they ebb and flow on the beach. David opens the screen door and joins his father on the front porch. He sits on the top step and leans comfortably against the railing.

  “Nice night, isn't it, Dad?”

  “This was your mother's favorite time of day.” Isaac's eyes squint to peer into the distant tunnel of a painful memory. “It was twilight when she died. A strange irony, isn't it?”

  Isaac signs a heartfelt expression and David's heart lurches. “I miss her, too, Dad.” He looks up at the brass mariner's bell hanging in the porch's archway. It could use a polishing, he thinks. That was his mother's favorite task. The bell had come from a ship her grandfather built and her father had sailed around the world more than once. As she polished it to a gleaming finish, she would reminisce about all the exciting adventures her father had had on the high seas. Then she could pretend he was still alive, rocking in his favorite chair by the cr
ackling glow of the fireplace.

  “You don't' believe anymore, do you, Dad?”

  Isaac snaps out of his reverie. “Believe? Believe in what, Son?”

  “Dreams, miracles…”

  Isaac is silent a moment, contemplating. “Not the way I used to, David. Maybe not at all. Dreams are only wishful thinking and miracles are accidents. They don't always happen to the most deserving.”

  David hesitates a moment, then cautiously changes the subject. “I know about Fischbacher selling the company, and about you losing your job. I went to see Fischbacher today.”

  Isaac stops swinging. “You did?” There was no reaction for David to read.

  “I was so mad, Dad, I had to do something. I told him what a rotten stinking thing he was doing to you and everybody in the company. I felt like punching him in the nose.”

  “That thought occurred to me, too, more than once,” a thought that brings a slight smile to Isaac's face.

  “What really ticked me off,” David continues, his voice rising in agitation, “was his attitude about your blueprints.”

  Now Isaac frowns. Is it his angry frown, David wonders?

  “Which blueprints?”

  David forces enthusiasm. “You know, Dad, the ones for the laser-powered cargo ships. He told me they were worthless but I told him I would take them to the new owners of the company, and when they saw your great ideas they'd keep you on.”

  Isaac shakes his head.

  He's dismissing me again, David thinks.

  “It's all water under the damn, David. It doesn't matter anymore. I don't even think I'd care to work for the new owners, no matter what they offered me.”

  “You can't give up now, Dad. Don't you want to see Sally walk again?”

  “Yes, of course, but…David, I'm afraid I have a confession.” Isaac pauses. The words don't come easily. “There's a part of me, a very selfish part, that doesn't want her to have that operation.”

  “Why, Dad? I don't understand.”

  “Because I'm afraid. The operation is dangerous. Sally could die. And if she died, it would be my fault. I killed your mother. I couldn't bear it if I killed Sally, too.” Isaac swallows hard, fighting back the tears that want desperately to flow.

  “No! That's not true! The crash was an accident. There was so much fog…you just didn't see the turn.”

  “I should have known better than to drive that road in the fog late at night,” Isaac admonishes himself. “But I had to get home. I had to finish my designs for Fischbacher that night. Those damn blueprints you think are so wonderful! They're the reason your mother died. For a lousy set of blueprints.” The tears come now, in silent, angry streams, unstoppable.

  The lump in David's throat threatens to implode, but he breathes deep and swallows it back down. He rises unsteadily from the step and sits next to his father on the glider. He says nothing, then begins to swing slowly, as though to comfort his father with the gentle rhythm. Isaac collects himself, wipes his eyes with his fingers, and clears his throat self-consciously.

  “Now I know why you've never really recovered from the accident,” David says, softly. “You've never forgiven yourself.”

  “And I never will.”

  Three

  Prism Palace, Island of Darkness

  On the uppermost level of the Prism Palace, a ferocious rumbling is heard, the growls of an inhuman being suffering great agitation. His blood-red eyes, wide and wild, peer through a small, round window in the wall.

  In the adjoining chamber, Saliana stares forlornly out the window of the palace tower. Mindlessly, she runs her fingers through golden hair that cascades over her shoulders and arms, almost touching the floor. She stirs slightly at the beast's presence, aware he is watching her through the opening, but she does not turn in his direction. With her gaze still fixed longingly on the outside world, Saliana picks up her small harp and begins to pluck it. She sings sweetly, but her heart is heavy.

  “I know a place where the Moon Spirits play,

  Where cathedrals of light form a stairway to heaven.

  Deep in the shadows, they hide from the morning

  And peek with delight through the cloud covered sky…”

  As she sings, the beast's massive, scaly tail swishes and swings, thudding and rattling as it moves. Its growling subsides.

  Down in the palace's great temple, musicians tap out a hypnotic rhythm with their hand-held bells and drums. Thus, the choir is cued to begin its droning ceremonial chants. Then, one by one, the subjects climb twelve massive crystalline steps to the Altar of Initiation, where they will come face to face with the High Priestess Jaycina and their inescapable destiny.

  Jaycina's robe is the same scarlet red as her lips, which seem always curled, ever so slightly, in a furtive smile. As she stands imperiously at the altar waiting for the fateful initiation to begin, she scans the subjects with a condescending eye. They are blind to their ignorance, fools for a cause they believe to be righteous. And so, she has won yet another victory in her scheme of unrelenting victories. The Glass Snake will be pleased.

  Jaycina holds her scepter high in the air and the music and chanting cease abruptly. She turns to the altar and bows in homage to the Serpent Ruler, whose image glares at her with eyes as deadly cold as the black onyx from which they are cast. She sets the scepter upright in its niche, then turns to face the subjects again.

  “From this day forward, you will bow only to him, live your life only for him, worship the power and reflect in the glory that is his and his alone.” As Jaycina pontificates dramatically, her ceremonial headdress of solid gold, diamonds, and rubies glitters atop her high-swept ebony hair, providing a breathtaking contrast to the stark white interior of the temple.

  The High Priestess extends her hand toward the first subject, and the music and chanting resume. The subject offers her his personal crystal, a large hexagonal emerald, which Jaycina places in a holographic console. An intense surge of electrical energy is heard and a glow of light emanates from the console for a few seconds.

  Jaycina removes the crystal from the console and returns it to the subject. As she speaks to him, her eyes are a penetrating force, and his face glows with the expected fulfillment of her promises. No longer is the subject a free entity, empowered by his own free will, but he has yet to discover that this ceremony is the precursor to his enslavement.

  “Your allegiance to the great Serpent Ruler of the Prism Palace has been recorded in the Crystal Chamber of Records, an allegiance which must never falter in this lifetime or through an eternity of lifetimes.”

  The subject bows to her, kisses the elaborate diamond ring on her finger, then walks across the altar and out of sight. Another subject steps up to take his place, and the ritual is repeated again and again, until the dozens of men and women standing in wait on the crystalline steps have been indoctrinated and purified.

  Outside, darkness looms, eclipsing the sun, the moon, and the stars. The only visible light emanates from the Prism Palace, but it lends an eerie, foreboding contrast to the blackness that pervades the Island.

  In the tunnels beneath the palace, hundreds of men toil in the mines, extracting crystals and gemstones from the rocky earth. Glass lanterns provide an uneven, yellow illumination. The heat is unbearable, and some of the men falter from a lack of oxygen.

  As the stones are chipped away, they are piled onto a cart. When the cart is filled, a worker pushes it to the end of the mineshaft where the slave master examines each sample and places it in a bucket. The bucket is lowered by a long rope into an underground well to cleanse the stones. When the bucket rises, the stones are clean and sparkle in their raw, natural beauty.

  Inside his hideaway cave dwelling, Ishtar stares intently into the flickering light of the campfire. He would jump into the flames and disintegrate into ashes if it would solve

  his dilemma. He rubs his eyes and runs a weary hand over his beard. Dorinda offers him a drink, but Ishtar just waves it away.

&
nbsp; “You cannot blame yourself, Ishtar,” Dorinda tries to console him. “You thought you were helping our people, but you were deceived, too, by Jaycina's lies.”

  “I cannot believe she would betray us,” Ishtar he says angrily. “She let me use my skills, my knowledge to design the Temple. I provided the bio-magnetic codes for the Crystal Chamber and literally condemned the Islanders to a life of slavery and hopelessness. How could I have been so blind?”

  “What you did, you did in good faith, Ishtar.”

  Ishtar bolts upright and paces back and forth in torment. “Tell that to Saliana, to my daughter, imprisoned by that hideous – that hideous thing they call our ruler, our god. How can Saliana ever forgive me for what I've done?” Ishtar buries his face in his hands, artistic hands that have brought to life the dream of a divine spirit. Now the dream has been corrupted.

  Dorinda stands beside her dear friend. “Saliana knows that you would never have deliberately brought her to harm. She trusts and loves you now as she did when she accompanied you to the palace. You cannot break under this pain you bear. You must be strong, to find a way to help her.”

  Ishtar picks up his tools, those of a craftsman who works with metals and gemstones. “How, Dorinda? With these?” He shakes the primitive implements angrily in the air. “They are outmoded and useless without the stones and minerals that once flourished on this side of the Island. I have barely enough crystal to make a trinket. He has all of it. That monster. He has all the power now. He is invincible.” Ishtar tosses the tools onto his worktable in disgust. “And now, with Saliana's music, he will also be immortal.”

  Dorinda grips Ishtar's arm. “No. We must not let that happen. We must find someone to help us.”

  “But who, Dorinda? There is no one left but you and I, and Judiah. The others are too weak or too sick to be of any use.”

  “It must be someone not from the Island, but someone who does share your knowledge and your courage. He will rescue Saliana and destroy the Glass Snake.”

  Ishtar is skeptical, but curious. “How will you find such as soul? And how can you possibly entice him to come here at the risk of his own life?”