The Hand of Grethia: A Space Opera

by Guy Antibes

  Obsomil nodded and the priest led them through the Temple’s main chamber and into an administrative section. Priests on tall stools filled out paperwork at high desks or counted money. The group was led to a large reception room. Long blue velvet hangings surrounded the room to reduce the likelihood of drafts. They reminded Jan of the curtains that created the maze in the Actobal temple.

  They were shown into a large meeting room with chairs arranged about the fireplace and flanked a large table. Grillwork of a dark wood decorated one of the interior walls. Jan had looked from behind similar grills deeper down in the temple on his other two visits. However, neither Obsomil nor Jan displayed familiarity with it as they circulated examining the room.

  “Please be seated, Ichar will be here presently. There are refreshments on the sideboard.” Odom pointed to a cabinet on the other side of the long table. “Forgive me now, “ he continued. “I have duties elsewhere and must leave you.” With that, Pola left the room by a different door than the one he entered.

  “These large rooms are said to have large ventilation systems.” Obsomil quietly said to the others in the room while Jan roamed around. “There are ducts as large as corridors behind the grills and hangings. They are necessary, I am told, to keep the air fresh in the many chambers below ground level.” The Diltrantian occupants nodded with understanding. The fact that Pola probably listened along with Ichar brought a smile to Jan.

  “When Ichar arrives, he should be amazed at what we have to tell him. The opportunities for the Grethians will be unlimited. I am anxious to see what he thinks.” Jan said louder than normal.

  “Yes,” Fosan took up the conversation, “The priesthood should have much more influence in the lives of all of our world than ever before.” The conversation went to comments on the room and the view out of the windows. The room was above rooftop level and presented a picturesque panorama of the port and the sea beyond.

  Suddenly a draft flowed through the room and Ichar walked in from behind two curtains. “King Obsomil? Gentlemen, please be seated. I understand you have come to me with some kind of proposal.” Ichar settled into an imposing chair. Ichar looked intently at Obsomil and at Jan. His hooded eyes and age-ravaged face could not conceal the spark of anger that burned within. Ichar seemed barely in control of himself.

  Ichar called in a group of senior priests, including Pola, together. They began to speak in low tones and then looked expectantly at Obsomil.

  King Obsomil began, “We bring incredible news. We,” he nodded at Jan and Fosan, “have been to the far land. We have returned with much knowledge. We know the speech of our ancient forefathers and can understand their words. We have found new ways to use the portals or you might call them ‘gates’ like Lord Wilton, who is on his way here from Diltrant.”

  The priests shifted uneasily at these words. Jan recognized that these were holy secrets to the Grethian priesthood in Diltrant. “I have brought you gifts.” Obsomil produced a satchel. From within it he pulled out a small pouch and presented it to Ichar. He opened the pouch and let fall the jewel Jan had taken from within the temple months ago.

  “The Eye of Gort!” Ichar held it tight, kissed it and put it back into the pouch and gave it of Pola. “You have other ‘gifts’ in your satchel?” Ichar asked with a higher scratchier voice.

  “Yes, my country borrowed this.” Obsomil presented the Hand of Grethia to Ichar. “You took it back and left me for dead in our Grethian Hall. We were able to retrieve it and now have found that the Hand is no longer needed. It has no meaning for me other than one of many keys to a door. These are tokens of our desire to cooperate with the Grethian Priesthood. We have a plan for improving the world with our new knowledge. We want to establish a new world society. The key to the success of the new order, is the sharing of the technology that our Grethian ancestors have left us.

  “I have given back what was taken. I also have more to share with you. I know where all of the Grethian Halls are that our ancestors left and I have even more to give you.” Obsomil said.

  The priests continued to look at him some with unease, some with hatred, some with curiosity. “These are data tabs from the far lands.” Obsomil put two on the table and slid it towards Ichar. I have given you two of them. They tell something of the life of our forefathers. One of the tabs describes how the continent was set up. It has population figures, government descriptions, maps and other information. This other tab describes where the other halls are. It gives the locations and the contents. Our forefathers set them up as museums. However, we think they did it to preserve the technology in the event of a cataclysmic war. Indeed, such a horror happened.”

  “Such blasphemy!” shouted one of the priests.

  Jan pulled out a portable reader and put a data tab in it. A map with cities appeared on the screen. The priests looked on in awe, clutching the Hand amulets they wore around their necks.

  Jan read the titles and explained where the cities were. All of the priests were now shaken. Their beliefs were being challenged. The sacred gifts of Grethia were reduced to the actions of mere men, right before their eyes. It was obviously hard for some of them to take and they fled from the room, shaken.

  Obsomil waited for a moment and then said, “The time has come to transform Grethia back to its former glory. I propose the establishment of a Grethian Institute here in Port Alchant. We want the Grethian priesthood to participate. You have all known that the source of your religion lies in the relics of the past. Your religion will have to be recast to accommodate the true intent of our forefathers.

  “We have a library of these tabs that can provide Grethian philosophers with ideas for centuries. We don’t want to impose a Grethian Religion on the world, but use the Grethian priests as teachers of the technology. I recognize that you may feel that the relics are to be protected. But it is plain that the relics hidden throughout our land were intended to benefit of all mankind.

  “You need to become missionaries of that which you have protected and share the secrets with all men. Think of it as the fulfillment of your ancient duty.” Obsomil looked towards Jan.

  “I have special knowledge about these things. I have come from a far world.” Jan took a deep breath. If the tabs and the return of the Hand didn’t throw them, what he was about to say would. “I have brought my ship with me. A ship that can fly among the stars. I used it to fly to the other continent and recover the treasures your forefathers left. We can’t put all of the technology in the hands of every person on Grethia at once because it takes a bit of time to learn how it works, to duplicate it and to teach people how to integrate the technology into their lives.

  “King Obsomil has asked me to coordinate the distribution of this technology.” Jan looked expectantly at Ichar waiting for an answer.

  Ichar’s eyes blazed, but he took his time collecting his thoughts before he spoke. “I cannot dispute the wisdom of what you say. We of Grethia have worked for centuries to protect the souls of the world. We have not been entirely successful, as I can now see. We need to discuss these matters and evaluate your proposal. There is much, much to think about.” Ichar said, wringing his hands as if to maintain control.

  Obsomil smiled and nodded. “We appreciate a cautious, reflective approach to evaluation. We would not want to enter into this venture without your full support. We have discussed this with Wilton, who has pledged his agreement. Our full plan includes a key alliance with you and with your former partners, the Murgrontians. We have had the benefit of Lord Wilton’s participation in this plan.” The priests became uneasy again.

  “Wilton! So he was in Diltrant.” Ichar spat the words out. “What did he do to betray us?”

  “There is no betrayal in this enterprise,” said Obsomil with a remarkable calm in his voice. “We’ll share the administrative burden of this alliance with Murgrontia. I will be setting off for Ilvant in a few days when Lord Wilton arrives. Your concurrence in this concept is certain to make it a success. Jan has most of th
e details worked out and would like to help you plan for your new role. I will return from Murgrontia to review them and set everything into motion.”

  Ichar rose abruptly and swept from the room, with the other priests following in his wake.

  The Diltrant contingent sat and exchanged low conversations. Jan got up and looked out the window at the rooftops below. The introspection gave way to doubts using the Grethian priesthood to assist in implementing the technology release.Do I want to live in Port Alchant for the rest of my life? Jan found himself bound to the recent events and now that his plan stood a good chance of being implemented, he was unsure if he did.

  He reminded himself that he could leave this place at any time. He had given Obsomil more than what he wanted. All Jan required was power for his ship. Still, Jan wondered if there was more that he had to do.

  He was teaching Galactic Commercial to Fosan and Merinnia so they could understand the tabs. Wilton might support the plan, but he doubted it. He turned to look at Obsomil. As he did so he noticed an arrow protruding from the grill pointed at the King. Jan shouted and dove towards Obsomil. The arrow flew, striking Jan in the shoulder, still penetrating the leather armor that he wore underneath his clothes. Obsomil and the others rushed the grill and removed a struggling priest.

  “It doesn’t matter what you do, the alien or the king has to die.” replied the priest who was one of Ichar’s attendants. Jan winced as the arrow was removed. The tip was blackened. Poison, no doubt. “Your alien ship is under our control, you cannot enter. We have deactivated the portal you placed by your ship. It will be my pleasure to watch you die.”

  “I need to get to the ship” Jan struggled to rise. “Bring the little portal here.” Fosan pulled out one of the small portals Jan had discovered in the Grethian warehouse. Jan set it for his engine room portal. “Someone needs to come with me.” Jan struggled for consciousness.

  “I will go,” Fosan said and took Jan to the portal. The two disappeared from the room just as more priests ran in with weapons.

  ~

  Materializing in the cramped quarters of the engine room, Fosan supported a rapidly weakening Jan. “Put me in the autodoc. But first turn off the portal so they don’t follow us.” After deactivating the portal, Fosan found that Jan couldn’t rise.

  Fosan dragged him into the autodoc. He didn’t know how to activate the thing.

  “If I only knew how to work this thing,” he said out loud.

  “Take off all of the clothing on his upper body and put his arms by his side. I will take care of the rest,” the computer said.

  Fosan blinked with surprise. He knew the computer talked, but he hadn’t expected a reply from his comment. Jan had to survive, so he followed the computer’s instructions. Jan had the vision of what to do with everything. He had to survive.

  Fosan looked on helplessly, since he didn’t know what else to do. He could see the mechanical arms remove more clothing, take samples, inject shots. While Jan was unconscious, the machine continued to work. Fosan was very apprehensive, but he had to trust in Jan’s computer.

  Jan seemed to sink more and more into the couch as if being deflated. Tubes carried blood out of and into the comatose figure. Then a new cycle of activity centered on Jan’s shoulder. Jan stirred. Fosan breathed a little easier as Jan seemed to take on more color. After three hours, the tubes were removed. The mechanicals withdrew. The cover to the autodoc slid open. In a few minutes Jan groggily opened his eyes.

  “I must have made it,” Jan said with a weak smile. “Thanks for getting me into the autodoc.”

  “Thank your computer, it took over once I put you on the bed.”

  Jan smiled. “202X, you’re wonderful.” He rose up and swung his legs over the side. Putting his hands on the edge for support, he shuffled to the front of the ship and looked around the ship from his console.

  “It looks like our friends didn’t like Obsomil’s idea.” Jan shook his head slowly. He turned and looked at a screen, and then pushed some keys and read a display.

  “It seems that the poison wasn’t particularly fast acting. That saved my life. It also seems I was lucky I wore the armor. The arrow didn’t break any bones. I’m going to need to rest for a few hours before we go back after the King. I’ve been instructed to take this medication.” Jan walked back to the autodoc and removed three pills from the dispenser. He popped them into his mouth and went back, a little unsteadily, to his sleeping cabin.

  ~

  Three hours later, Jan awoke feeling less groggy and somewhat serviceable. He arose to find Fosan puzzling over the controls.

  “Right now, I’d say it’s going to take a little longer to get the Society going than I thought.” His comments startled Fosan, who hadn’t noticed him Actually, he said that for Fosan’s benefit. Jan was certain the priesthood, as an organization, wouldn’t stand for his plan in the first place. They were foolhardy for coming to Port Alchant, but Obsomil had insisted on returning.

  Jan went to his storage room and pulled out two blasters. “You will have to learn to use this now.” Jan described how the blaster worked. Both blasters were set to stun and had the beams set wide. Jan had no remorse using his weapons—not after the poison arrow.

  The two went to the viewscreen and again scanned the exterior of the ship. Jan’s sensors noted ten figures out in the perimeter. A priest of the group pulled the portal up out of the ground and had moved it towards the rocks at the edge of the clearing. At that point Jan and Fosan burst out of the ship and beamed all of the men senseless. Jan disappeared back into the ship and returned with a roll of tape. He bound the men up and waited for them to come around. One of the guards woke first.

  “Why have you come to my ship?” Jan asked.

  “To kill the Diltrantians who seek to enslave all of Port Alchant. We don’t want to bow down to King Obsomil. We know you’ve stolen our Hand!”

  “We returned the Hand and the Eye to the Priests, and then they shot me.” Jan showed the man his wound. “We haven’t come to enslave you, we’ve come to let all of the people share in the Grethian relics, not just the priests.”

  By this time all were aroused. The priest spoke, “You are the embodiment of evil. Your very ship stinks of anti-Grethian odors.”

  Jan had to smile at the man’s term. “What are Grethian odors? What purpose is your great temple in the Port? Who do you really serve? Yourselves or the people of Alchant?”

  “I serve High Priest Ichar and Senior Pryor Pola. They have sent me here in their behalf.” the priest said.

  “You serve the greed and ambition of Pola. In fact, I’ll bet your Senior Pryor told you to destroy the ship even though there are treasures inside that will benefit all of the people of Grethia,” Jan said.

  “How did you know that?” the priest blurted out.

  Such transparent treachery. Jan sadly realized that the Grethian priests were too focused on their hierarchy to be of much use. They would only impede the work. Obsomil’s hands would be full enough dealing with Lord Wilton. “You just told me by your actions. Let me tell you. Your order is doomed. When the people learn about your suppression of the technology of your forefathers, they will turn on you just like they did when your order was kicked out in Diltrant. You’ll soon be out of work.”

  The other men were unsettled. A man with a more ornate uniform spoke up from his bonds, “Kicked out of Diltrant? You mean the Obsomil doesn’t execute people who follow the priests?”

  “Ha! That’s a big lie. Obsomil’s grandfather kicked the priests out and the people were behind him. Do you realize how much money your priests take in? There is no Grethian religion, it’s all a sham. You see this portal?” Jan walked over to the rock where the priest put the portal. Jan reset the coordinates. “Fosan, come over here.” Fosan stepped over the portal and Jan activated it. Half a minute later Fosan walked out of the ship.

  “Does this look like something only the priests can do? No.” Jan pointed his thumb into his chest. “I h
ave been to the forbidden continent. I have seen what your ancestors left you. We can provide similar wonders for everyone in the world. If I do, those priests lose their power. King Obsomil’s way is to use the relics to unite Grethia and share the treasures with all. I have a reader in my ship. If you promise not to attack me I will show it to you and other things in my ship. What’s your name?”

  The guard nodded. Fosan released his bonds. “My name is Emon.” The man arose rubbing his hands. He pressed his lips together, took a deep breath before he followed Jan into the ship.

  Emon stopped within the airlock as the door closed and began to panic. He turned to get out. The outside door would not open. He turned to Jan. Jan held out his hands. “See, I am not here to harm you. Just relax. The ship is not huge. This chamber is needed to keep the right kind of air inside the ship. On the forbidden continent, there is still a deadly poison that will kill you. I have suits that protect me from it. This room has, uh, washing devices that clean off the poison.”

  He pressed a button and opened the lock. Emon quickly moved to the other room and then stopped, his mouth agape. “This is a center of the secrets of Grethian priests. I have heard them describe it. Knobs, buttons, screens. Articles beyond their understanding.”

  “These are not beyond my understanding, Emon. I operate this ship. How did you think it got here?” Jan asked.

  “‘From hell’, the priest said. He told us we would be forever tainted if we touched it.”

  “Another lie. You will find a lot of lies and distortions of the truth from that lot.” Jan declared. “Here is my reader. Sit and let me show you what your forefathers were like.”

  A few minutes later, the space ship door opened. The sun was just about to set. Emon still looked shaken, but was now overcome by the knowledge Jan had given him.

  “This man is an ally. He wants us to progress and I believe it when he says the Grethian priests are fighting him to hold on to their power over us.” Emon said. He went over to his men and they continued to discuss what he saw.