by K R Sanford
The catacombs opened to pools of water and pockets of hollowed rock. Marco pointed across to a wide passageway. A group of Marillians were cooking on an open crystal-powered stove. The Chief stared and said, “I never had a clue the Marillians were so sophisticated. I can see the stories about Gorks were greatly exaggerated.”
“I guess so,” replied Marco. “Remember to be polite and call them, Marillians.”
Grantham took broad, easy steps through the tunnels. He led up through a long, curved artery of the subterranean catacombs. He stopped now and again to talk with Marco and the Vallians. They waited for the others to catch up.
He pointed to the adjacent passages. They said this one led this way and that one led that way. They remarked about the different geo-formations. They talked how the Marillians marked certain catacombs to identify what was what.
Finally, Marco fascinated with the tour-de-elegance asked. “What is that gold rod on your belt, Governor?”
“It's a communicator, Captain,” replied Grantham. “It's a device to speak to this department or that department.
Marco turned to the Chief and said, “Are you getting all this?”
Before the Chief could answer, Grantham stopped. He turned to the Captain and the Vallians. He placed his hands on his hips and said, “We come to the surface now. It is twilight and the air will be fresher. Your horses will breathe easier and so will you.”
He stared at the Captain and smiled. His large lidless eyes sparkled in the darkness. He turned around and marched up a short section of tunnel. He stepped out the subterranean world and into the twilight.
Marco and the Chief followed. Grantham led them out the exit and onto a path leading to the water's edge. The slow, hot wind off the Emerald Sea blew against their faces. Marco and the Chief took long deep breaths of the salt sea air. The stars in the evening sky had begun to shine over the clear blue waters.
Their journey through the underground world had come to an end. Yet, neither Marco or Chief Spierd or the Vallian warriors were quite sure what had happened. No one spoke of what they would do or how they would work together, or if they dare counter the judgment of the Emperor.
The assumption was clear. They would work to make the Corsi Star System safe for those who chose Ameda as their home for the time being.
Grantham stopped short. His wide jaw dropped and his web clawed feet curled into the turquoise sand. He stared at the red knee boots and pink velvet legs of a six-foot-six Ziltairian goddess. Her long golden hair trailed behind her, revealing her powerful sleek body. She held the mussel end of a blaster within inches of his wet bronze nose. Then, from behind the alien goddess came a voice.
“Captain Miller, Tom Clairy.” The young ebony, blue-eyed officer trudged up to Marco. He wore the smart gray uniform of the Ambassador's diplomatic corps. He announced, “The Eagle got through. We have your old friend Bradley on the beach alongside the Exodus.”
Marco shook his head. “He's not my friend. But hey, it’s good to see you guys. You look fantastic.” Marco walked over and gave Clairy a hug. He lifted him off the sand. He slapped Clairy on the back. He let him take a moment to regain his dignity.
Meanwhile, Grantham watched the Ziltairian slip the silver blaster back on her hip. She turned her thigh and stepped off the path of the oncoming horseman. Her lean layered muscles rippled up and down her body. She planted the narrow heel of her red boot into a mound of hard dirt.
“Captain Clairy,” said Marco. “Say hello to Governor Grantham. He's a Marillian, a native resident. You know Chief Spierd.”
The acquaintances were pleasant and brief. Marco could not help noticing the attention Grantham was paying Clorissa. A feeling of exhilaration passed through him as he smiled to himself.
Clairy interrupted Marco's reverie. “Let's get onboard the Exodus. We have people to take home.” Marco extended a hand. They walked along the shoreline to where three starships lined up along the sand. The Vallian army followed. The starship officers and the Marillian hierarchy were anxious with curiosity. The tall shapely Ziltairian captured the attention of all three races. Marco took pride with unaccustomed pleasure.
The Marillian echelon completed boarding the Exodus. They lifted to a height of twenty thousand feet. They held their position and waited for the signal from the Emperor Legion's ship.
The ship's viewer came alive with the Emperor's ship. It hovered above the southern mountains. A tractor beam fired from the ship in the direction of Shrine Lake. It attached itself solid to the dome over the village. The beam lifted the dome straight in the air. Then, as the Emperor's ship ascended, the dome lifted away from the Vallian village.
Over the mountain and down on the sands of Emerald Sea it came. The dome fell within inches of the captured cargo vessel and battle cruiser. As the edge of the dome set solid in the sand, the far side continued to the bottom of the sea. Frank Bradley and his ships got trapped. The dome rested tight against the ships. They locked the three ships in place as was their intent for the Vallian Village.
When morning came, the three ships locked hard into the sand and tight against the dome. All was the same on the edge of Emerald Sea as it was the night before. All, but the footprints of webbed clawed feet that came in the night then back into the sea. The foot prints left the markings of a well lead Marillian army. The footprints of the humans aboard those three ships were never found.
C H A P T E R 8
____________________________________________
THE SEA OF GLASS
Captain Miller rose early. He stood on the quiet bridge of the Eagle. “Where is everyone?”
The command chair turned. Captain Tomas Clairy of the battle cruiser Exodus greeted the Captain, “Top of the morning to you, Marco.”
“Clairy, what are you doing here?” replied Marco half asleep.
Clairy smiled. He beamed with a perfect row of white teeth. He raised his eyebrow. “The Ambassador asked me to stop by say hello.”
“Well, hello,” replied Marco. “Now, since you're sitting there, how about bring up an analysis on those ships Legion emptied.”
Clairy straightened in his chair. “You don't trust the Lord Legion, Marco.”
Marco's face flushed red. “I want Bradley! He's out there somewhere!”
“Take it easy,” replied Clairy. “We'll locate him.”
Marco tightened his lips. “He was never onboard.”
“That's possible, Marco. This report shows no sign of Bradley anywhere.” The young Captain pointed to a log entry on his communicator. “Not even a change of clothes on his ship.”
“That's strange,” replied Marco. “He's got to be out there somewhere, but where?”
“Ask the Ambassador, it’s his home planet,” said Clairy.
“Yes,” grumbled Marco. “I’ll ask, but you know how it is. The Ambassador takes forever to get things done.”
Clairy shrugged, trying to be calm said, “That's politics, Marco.”
“This isn't politics!” Marco's anger seethed in his eyes. “It's not a political matter. Bradley's a butcher. It's justice! He needs to end, plain and simple.”
“I understand, Marco.” Clairy sat cool and collected. “Bradley is not going anywhere.”
Marco raised his chin. “Then you tell me where he is. You can't. That's because you have been chauffeuring Mr. Diplomacy around the Middle Corridor. You're having a hard time of thinking for yourself, these days. Why don't you stop flying in on the Ambassador's ether?”
“That's enough, Captain Miller.” Clairy stood to his feet, his sapphire bionics glowing bright against his face. “I don't deserve your hostilities,” he said. “And besides, I didn't ask for this assignment. If I didn't get optical transplants, the Ambassador would have no use for me and you know it.”
Marco brushed his foot against the gray deck. He started to snicker. A twinkle came to his eye. “You know, Clairy,” replied Marco. “We're fussing over nothing. You know that?”
“I know,�
� replied Clairy. “Let's go to the planet and see about the Ambassador.”
Marco nodded in agreement. They walked to the magnavator and stepped inside. He gave the bridge a onceover to see if any instruments were left on. The bridge remained quiet. A small green light tucked inside the armrest of his command chair signaled all was well and standing by. He tapped the wall sensor and they descended.
The Eagle's launch bay doors were opened. The small boxy shuttle drifted out into space. The silver shuttle wore the name, Eagle II. The Eagle II extended a set of airfoil wings and positioned for slow flight through Amedan air space. She projected a blue omni halo around the outside of the hull. A ribbon of white light shot in the direction of planet. Eagle II disappeared into the turquoise atmosphere.
The Shrine, unscathed by the attack the previous day reflected the morning sunlight. Below, the village folk were returning to their homes. The shuttles from the Battle Cruiser Exodus were taking Vallians to ther homes.
The skies were clear and calm. It was a warm azure day and to the Chief much like any other spring day in Shrine Lake Village.
The Chief pointed to Faragorn's hoof prints. “Except for that confounded horse trampling my flowers,” he said. “The Shrine looks intact. Care to look inside, Hector?” Chief Spierd waved at the arched entrance f the rotunda.
“That's what I came for,” replied Hector. Hector, dressed in black leathers wore a blaster on his hip. His chiseled face and scarred lips twisted up a look of puzzled amusement. He marveled at the fine stone entrance. He walked through the archway and found torches mounted on the walls. They still burned from the day before.
Hector made an abrupt stop. The Chief stopped dead in his tracks.
“What is it?” whispered the Chief.
Hector did not speak. His beady-eyes softened. He held up a clinched fist, ordering him to hold tight. The Chief did as Hector ordered. Hector put his hand down. The Chief poked his head around Hector's shoulder to see what he was looking at.
They turned to each other. A sour expression pinched up the Chief's face. Hector lifted an eyebrow. They both took a second look of disbelief.
The couple on the far side of the rotunda was lost in each other's gaze. The taller had his hand on the other's shoulder. Hector and the Chief turned back to each other. As if in one saccharine voice they said, “Love.”
“Good morning, men,” boomed the voice of the subterranean governor. “What brings you here so early?”
“Hello, Grantham,” replied Hector. They walked into the main chamber. “Clorissa, how marvelous it is to see you this morning. And, you're looking so splendid, too,” said Hector with a Cheshire cat grin.
Clorissa contorted her long sleek body in a serpentine bent. She slid her hands on her hips. Reaching her head toward Hector and the Chief, she smiled. She said in her smooth silky voice, “Would you two care to wait with us until the Ambassador shows? He shouldn't be too long. He's gathering a party, did you know about that?”
“I didn't know about a party,” replied Hector as he stepped onto the rotunda floor. “I came here to talk about the riddle and this table.” Hector pointed to the black circular marble and the twenty-two stone chairs.
The Chief walked to the edge of the table. He gazed at the polished marble and spoke, “This moment is vivid,” he said.
“What's that, John?” said Hector. “Vivid, did you say?” Hector cocked his head to one side to study the incongruence of John’s demeanor.
“I don't know,” replied John. “I was quite sure and yet unsure.” John looked up. He got distracted by an unidentified force in his mind.
Grantham and Clorissa moved from the east portal and stepped into the light of the main chamber. Grantham's round forehead and square jaw glistened bronze. The scaly eye muscles squinted narrow. The smooth baritone voice of Ambassador Gaff echoed through the chamber.
“Use your intuition,” he said.
The Ambassador's spherical body glided six feet off the floor. His party followed.
Commander Majors was at his side. Balrug the Gray, Master of Woodland Forest followed. Napgath the Fisher and Mondell the Mechanic was next. Captain Clairy and Captain Miller with his daughter Shanna stepped into the rotunda. Then William the Homalet with Torroadin the Merchant entered. Tildanfin, Master of Arms with his wife Saralil stepped forward. Then Arnockel, Chertog, Dr. Stokes and three Marillian leaders made their way inside.
The procession continued until the last two entered. King Devin and Queen Elsinor made their entrance. This Vallian couple was of extraordinary elegance and beauty. They were royalty of the old world.
“Take a chair everyone. Everyone, please, so we can start. We are starting,” said the Ambassador. The Ambassador repeated himself several times before the group was seated. They sat in the circle of chairs. Finally, they dignified each member with an introduction.
The Ambassador hovered into the center of the table and continued. “Welcome, one and all. This is your planet, and this is your time. To begin, Chief Spierd experienced the forces within this celestial table. He saw the sacred space for the first time. I sense this was the heartfelt presence of Governor Grantham and Yeoman Clorissa.
The fact is; it will need more than a few to move the universe on this table. It is not by accident there are twenty-two chairs filled here today. This moment is a first in ten thousand years. Here sets the fullness of Legion the manythe very Arcana of the universe. The Emperor Lord Legion has foreseen this day and has instructed me to reveal the mystery of this riddle:
What is everyone's?
And, what is no one's?
And has the power to generate a universe?
“When the Chief saw the table, he saw the beginnings of a vision. Together he will finish that vision with what he has within him. This star system will need the presence of everyone here to keep our sovereignty secure.
This table, as a navigational mechanism, responds to your actuated self. That means, your group needs to give their full presence of mind. That presence, need to be as deliberate as climbing the steps to this Shrine. All our efforts will come to rest here in the seats in this rotunda. Now, think of a quandary, a question, or a puzzle. Ask, and you shall be given.
And, so we begin: Listen, and use your ears. Hear the sounds around you. Listen to the wind on the hillside through the grass. Hear the change of pitch inside the Shrine. Discern the slight echo off the dome and the ringing from the marble table when the surface gets tapped.
Look with your eyes at the soft shadows cast around the dome. See the hard shapes and the soft colors. Notice the light that moves, and the light that feels cold.
Now, feel your surroundings. Feel your pain. Feel your pleasure. Feel your needs. Then, feel the needs of this work you do. Feel how deep is your commitment.
Smell the aroma of the flowers along the steps to the rotunda. Taste the air. And now, take a few moments in silence to go through this exercise again. Take ten minutes.”
* * * *
“The Middle Corridor,” announced Marco. “We need to stop the corporations from controlling the mineral planets. We need to keep them away until Ameda can build the Corsi Defense.”
“But, how?” replied Grantham. He looked to Clorissa at his right.
William, feeling the table move, lifted his elbows as it began changing to a royal blue. The gold saucers and gems shifted their positions.
“The table is moving,” said John.
Balrug pulled his pipe from his pocket and pointed to the table. “It's making a pathway through the stars.” His gravel voice spoke with confidence.
“It's a path of communication,” said Grantham. “This is how we get our job done.” He jutted out his jaw and nodded.
“Look, its Ameda,” said Pawdell. “Here is the Corsi Solar System.” Pawdell pointed to a cluster of diamonds where the blue void appeared. They watched the table change again.
The table changed to a royal-sapphire blue. The glistening diamonds appeared with
connecting red, yellow and green iridescent lines. The lines were spinning. Planets and stars circled each other as if giving directions to those seated at the table.
The Ambassador’s shell surged in brilliance. His energy bolts raced with excitement. “And now, my task here is complete,” he announced. “We will be traveling. And this voyage will be very much a part of our lives for a long time to come. As you can see there is much to do and much to talk about.” The Ambassador glided over the rotunda floor and out the main entrance. Captain Clairy of the battle cruiser Exodus followed.
Marco remained seated. He watched the participants stand. AS they did they went away from the table one by one. Their faces said they must quietly carry out their private tasks.
Hector gestured at the commotion around the table.
“Now that this planet has come together,” said Hector, “what's left for us to do, Marco?”
Across the table sat King Devin and Queen Elsinor. The royal couple smiled. They nodded in agreement at the newly-formed government. Their presence at the table solidified cooperation between the races.
“We'll be taking orders, Hector,” replied Marco. “This is not our table. We get to be players in what I would wager as the Emperor Lord Legion's favorite game.”
“I wouldn't be so quick to judge, if l were you.” Balrug stood. He motioned with his pipe. The eyes of all were on the Master of Woodland Forest. A hush fell in the chamber. “Patience, dear friends, patience,” he continued. “Two things have come clear.
First, the threats of invasion are fodder for fear and panic. Second, things change daily. My people and the Marillians can stay here. We can learn and watch the changes in the Sea of Glass. The rest of us can make plans to protect Ameda. Build the Corsi Star Defense and make a good place to live.
The Ambassador said it well: This voyage will be very much a part of our lives for a long time to come. Balrug stopped and lit his pipe. He blew smoke in the dome overhead. The rotunda erupted in discussion. Fingers pointed from one direction of the table to the other.