by T. R. Harris
Adam knew that if the other men in his unit had joined him on the mission, he would have had a hard time convincing them to return to Pyrum, low gravity or not. Some things were just worth losing bone mass for, and the females of Formil certainly qualified.
The transport dropped him off at the large, dominating Temple building where he was greeted by a tall, handsome Celebrant named Trimen O’lac For. Trimen explained that he was the Second Celebrant, one of three individuals who carried the title, and that he would be taking Adam to meet with Convor Ton’al Ona, the High Celebrant himself.
The small entourage accompanying Trimen was made up of three females and two males, and Adam had a hard time concentrating when surrounded by beings who could put every Playmate of the Year to crying shame. He was relieved when all but Trimen remained outside the meeting room where the High Celebrant waited.
Convor was tall, tanned and muscular – apparently a natural trait shared by all Formilian males – even though he was approaching sixty-years of age. Usually once one reached the pinnacle of power and prestige, one could dispense with the need to maintain stunningly good looks – besides there often wasn’t time during one’s hectic day to spend in the gym. So the supreme conditioning and beauty of the Formilian people had to be genetic – the lucky bastards.
“It is an honor to meet you, Mr. Adam Cain,” Convor said, approaching Adam with a pleasant smile and an outstretched hand. “Human protocol is for a hand-grasping ceremony,” he said. “I welcome the touching, finding it to be quite the bonding experience.”
Adam and Convor shook hands.
“Even after all the thousands of years, it is stimulating to find that there are still things we can do to improve our ways. I may see about introducing this ritual in our own formal greetings.”
Adam couldn’t help but believe Convor was sincere; there was nothing in his manner that would suggest otherwise. Damn, something as simple as a handshake, Adam thought. Wonder what else I can do to shake up their society?
“And now, Mr. Cain, I must apologize.” Convor motioned for Adam to have a seat on a wide, extremely soft, yellowish-colored sofa with curving wood armrests.
“For what?” Adam asked as he also took a drink offered by Trimen.
“It appears as though our crisis will soon be over and that your services will no longer be required.”
“You’ve recovered Arieel – I mean the Speaker?”
“Not quite yet, but we did receive a demand for credits in exchange for her safe return.”
So there had been a ransom demand; that would exonerate the Omphly and reduce the chance of war.
“Has Kroekus been informed? He will be very relieved to know this.”
“The message just came in a few hours ago. We have been analyzing it for authenticity and to see if the demands are agreeable. It appears both are now verified. I will be sending a link to Administrator Kroekus very soon.”
“He was afraid there might be a war if the Speaker was not found and returned unharmed.”
Convor nodded, removing the smile from his face. “That was our fear as well. Needless to say, we are all very relieved. Even though a demand of credits to culminate such a horrendous event is beyond the pale, we welcome it. We had no desire to go to war – with anyone.”
“So when does the exchange take place?” Adam asked. “Since I’m here, I might as well assist in any way I can. My official training has been in the rescue and extraction of hostages and other captives. I might have something I can contribute.”
Convor raised his eyebrows and looked over at Trimen. They both appeared to be very pleased.
“I am quite impressed, Mr. Cain,” said Convor, returning his attention to Adam. “I am well aware of your background and of your accomplishments however I was not aware of this particular specialty. You are quite the unique individual.”
Yeah, I’m hot shit – you god-damn Greek god, Adam thought. In reality, this was great news. Now he wouldn’t be under any deadline to achieve the impossible … and maybe now he could catch up with Sherri on Belson….
“We would of course welcome your input,” Convor was saying. His demeanor changed slightly, to one of nervous concern. “We are completely new to this concept of credits for the return of a dignitary, and we do have the time constraints to consider.”
“Yes, I am aware of the explosive device, Celebrant Convor.”
“Yes, we did authorize release of this information to Administrator Kroekus. The timing for the exchange is the only concern we now have.”
“Please explain.”
“There are only fifteen days left for the Speaker to be returned to the Temple for rites. The demand is for thirty-million credits, which is of no concern to us. It is only that the exchange must take place on a planet called Uniss-3, and it will take a ship from Formil six days just to reach Uniss and then another six to return. Any delays … and it could prove tragic.”
Adam moved to the edge of the sofa, concerned over what he had just heard. “Forgive me, Celebrant Convor, but isn’t thirty-million credits a pretty low price to pay for the return of your Supreme Celebrant?”
Convor frowned. “It was our belief that the amount was a blessing. Yes, it is very little compared to the treasury of the Order and for the importance of the Speaker, yet you make it sound as if it is too low.”
“It’s just that from my experience, ransom demands – ransom being the amount of credits paid in such cases – is usually directly related to the importance of the subject.”
“I understand, Mr. Cain. If the abductors had asked for a billion credits, we would have gladly paid it, but they did not ask for that amount.”
“That’s my point – why didn’t they?”
Convor and Trimen both look puzzled. Their complete lack of experience on this subject left them without a point of reference. “I do not see your concern,” Convor said. “We will pay whatever ransom they demand; it is that simple.”
Adam decided to let the subject drop. It would be hard for him to prove a negative to the aliens; they just had no understanding of the concept of a kidnap and ransom demand. He decided to move on to another subject.
“I know the timing for the return of the Speaker is now your most critical concern, and I might be able to help with the delivery of the ransom. My ship is capable of velocities faster than any you have. If your ship will take six days, I can do it in three. Three there, three back, and we’ll still have plenty of time before the deadline expires.”
Besides, I don’t think I trust these kidnappers. Something seems out of place. And if the kidnappers reneged on the return of Arieel, then there could still be war. He would feel better being in control of the situation.
“You would volunteer to do that?” Convor said, visibly excited. “This would be above and beyond your charter, Mr. Cain. And if what you say is possible, then the sooner we recover the Speaker, the sooner we can all put this tragic event behind us.”
“When will the credits be ready?”
“They already are. As you have intimated, thirty-million credits is a very small amount to accumulate.” At that point, Convor reached into a pocket of his mustard-colored gown and pulled out a stack of deep purple Expansion credit chips and placed them on a small table in front of the sofa.
Adam leaned in closer to look at the credits; he’d never seen purple ones before.
“Is that all of them?” he blurted out.
“They are five-million-credit chips. That is the largest denomination made.” Trimen said, speaking for the first time since entering the room.
“That’s why I didn’t recognize them!” Adam said with a wide grin. He reached over and picked up the small stack of six chips. When he thought about it, thirty-million credits was a lot of money. Each one of these purple chips could purchase a Class-5 starship, capable of traversing the galaxy. When put into perspective like that, maybe the ransom demand wasn’t as low as Adam thought. However, the Formilians did just admit they wo
uld have paid a billion. Hell, with that much Adam could almost buy an entire planet. Of course, it wouldn’t be in the best neighborhood, or with the best schools….
Adam was quickly briefed as to the location of the ransom drop and the procedures they had been instructed to follow, then he and Trimen headed back to Adam’s ship.
The more he thought about his upcoming trip, the more excited Adam became. A little six-day jaunt – three there, three back – and with the last leg of the journey in the company of a 16-year-old anime-artist’s vision of the ultimate wet-dream. Humm, what would he and the stunningly beautiful Arieel talk about during the trip back, for three whole days, and with no one else around?
His fantasy was brought down to reality when Trimen began to brief him about the Speaker.
“We know that Arieel Bol was drugged and unconscious when she was taken,” he said. “The only way she could have remained contained from that moment until now is if she has been kept constantly sedated.”
“Or they’ve killed her. Sorry, I had to say it. Have you had any proof of life – did you verify that she’s still alive?”
“We did not request it, but a time-stamped vid accompanied the credits demand, along with a verification of her genetic markers. As of four hours ago, she was still alive.” Trimen became very serious then. “If she no longer lives, then of course do not pay the credits.”
The Formilian hesitated before continuing. He looked Adam in the eyes, a sadness deep within them. “I have read your history, Adam Cain; you are a remarkable creature with a very unique set of deadly skills. I would hope that if the Speaker no longer lives that you would see fit to begin the process of seeking retribution for this act. It may not be much, but it will be a start.”
“I understand,” Adam said. “I’ll do what I can.” He knew what Trimen meant – more head-bashing and a high body count.
“As you have suspected, if the Speaker perishes, then a conflict will undoubtedly begin,” Trimen continued. “Even though the Coalition is much smaller than the Federation, we do possess superior technology, if not the weapons of war. However, we do have considerable wealth with which to purchase the weapons we will need. We may not wait to be attacked, Adam Cain. To do so would not be prudent.”
“That has been the thinking of the Administrator as well. Even though I now believe that it wasn’t the Omphly who kidnapped your Speaker, I do think they’ll use her death to gather the courage to attack.”
“What is kidnapped?”
“It means to be taken, abducted.”
“And yet the translator reveals kid to mean youngling. Does it happen so often on your world that a youngling is taken that you have a separate word for the event?”
“Unfortunately, it does,” Adam answered solemnly. “But kidnapping also refers to the taking of adults.”
Trimen seemed to be very troubled with the revelation; Adam felt embarrassed for his race. Here he was describing something so horrendous, so obscene, and to an alien who had no understanding of even the basic concept.
“I must warn you now about the Speaker – about Arieel Bol – as a person,” Trimen said, changing the subject … much to Adam’s relief.
“Go on. What’s she like, I mean when she’s not all drugged up?”
“That is why I must warn you. If you are successful in recovering her, then eventually the drugs will wear off and you will have to contend with her as – well – as she is.”
“I don’t think I like the sound of that.” Adam flashed his most sincere smile.
Trimen’s expression remained dour. “You must understand that Arieel Bol is the 4,316th Speaker—”
Adam couldn’t hold back his shock. “Holy crap, that’s a lot of them!”
“That is true, and as such, she has been raised with a certain perspective as to her place in our society.”
“Are you trying to say she’s spoiled?”
Trimen waited a moment as the translator worked through the reference. “Yes, that is a way of saying it, in the context of a personality disorder. However, as she may indeed be mortal and made of flesh and blood, she does consider herself to be very near a god.”
“I thought that’s how all Formilians consider her?”
The corners of Trimen’s lips began to curl up. “I may be the Second Celebrant, Adam Cain, but I am also a scientist, as are all the Celebrants 12th-degree or higher. I am one of three 17th-degrees, with Convor being the only 18th – the High Celebrant. We live to serve the Speaker and the Order, yet we know what is mortal and what is not, and we have spent more time around the Supreme Celebrant than all others on the planet.
“Young Arieel is the embodiment of our religion,” he continued, “a conduit to the power of our gods, Mislin and Sufor. They create the power, and we devise the various means in which their wonder can manifest itself. Even though the Speaker controls powers greater than any other mortal being, on any world, in any galaxy, she is still mortal.”
“And about that, how does she do it, this control she has? You just said she’s mortal.”
Trimen seemed offended by the question. “How she does this is of no concern, especially to an outsider,” he said, his eyes wide, his manner growing more agitated.
“I didn’t mean to upset you, Trimen. I was just curious. Like you said, she has powers no one else has; of course I’d be curious about them.”
This seemed to calm the Formilian Celebrant. “Forgive me my temper, Adam Cain, but I thought you were going to question her abilities.”
“No, I have seen demonstrations of her powers. They appear to be very real.” However, Adam honestly believed they were some kind of elaborate magic trick, but he didn’t voice this to Trimen. Maybe three days in the Phoenix, alone with their living-god, would help reveal her secrets.
“Her powers are real, Mr. Cain, which is why you must be very careful once the drugs wear off. The Speaker will be traumatized over the event and very upset. She will also be in an advanced starship full of electronic devices, and if she were to lose her temper, it could be very dangerous.”
“Could she destroy the ship … but that would kill her, too?”
“Yes it would, but I do not believe she would go that far. She may be young and spoiled – to use your word – but she is highly intelligent and with a very-disciplined mind. It is only you who would be in danger.”
Adam shook his head, as if trying to clear out an unwanted thought. “Thanks for telling me this, Trimen. And here I thought this was going be a simple pick-up and delivery job. Now you say I could be trapped for three days with a pissed off honey badger with supernatural powers, and ready to tear my head off without warning!”
“If a honey badger is something that can create deadly balls of energy out of thin air, and who can control every electronic device on your ship simply with the power of her mind, then you are correct, Mr. Cain. My advice to you would be to keep your distance, treat her with the utmost respect … and never mention anything about her weight.”
“You’re not serious, are you?”
“I wish I were not, but this is Arieel Bol we are speaking of. She is a female, and as such, she can be very difficult at times to comprehend.”
Adam entered the Phoenix and pressed the button to retract the ramp and seal the outer hatch. He left Trimen standing on the ground of the landing field, not even thinking whether or not he would reach a safe distance before Adam activated the chemical drive.
Instead, all that was on his mind as he made his way to the pilothouse was: Oh no, not another one!
9
Adam arrived in Nulor star system three days later and proceeded in-system to the planet Uniss-3. As he neared the brown-tinged globe, he instinctively had the feeling that this place was going to be another shithole. From his experience brown planets tended to be drier, dustier and with native populations who walked around with bad attitudes and chips on their shoulders – if they even had shoulders.
It was also on worlds like this th
at the criminal element seemed to flourish the most.
Uniss-3 was located just on the other side of the border from Formilian Coalition and was a member of the misogynistic Omphly Federation. Because it sat on the outskirts of the Coalition, it served as a vital buffer against the obscene contamination that was being constantly fomented by the Formilians and their Speakers.
Even before the Humans had surrendered control of the Expansion, the Federation had already renounced its affiliation to that organization, choosing to go it alone, and for over twenty years the Brotherhood of the Omphly had been carefully preparing a strike against the Coalition. Yet the only thing that prevented such action was fear of the demon-Speaker. Besides the obvious fact that it was a female leading the entire Coalition, the Speaker was also a conjurer of the dark forces, not a representative of the gods, but of the devil, of evil.
The Brotherhood had never bothered to delve deeper into the question how she was able to do the obscene things she did. Rather they fixated on the fact that she could. It was all they needed to declare her a living-demon, an abomination, and deserving of death.
In reality, the leadership of the Brotherhood did not hold as much fear for the Speaker as did the general populace of the fifty-two worlds that followed the beliefs of the Omphly. Yet until the masses could support a full-scale clash with the Coalition, the Brotherhood held back.
But now the Speaker had turned up missing; Omphly spies within the Formilian government had confirmed as much, even though no public proclamation had been made. The leaders of the Brotherhood knew they had nothing to do with her disappearance, and yet the Coalition was not so sure. But even then, neither party was ready for all-out war – not yet.