by Scott Rhine
Instead of disappointment, the young ewe glowed with excitement. “Being with you is always an adventure. Where are we going?”
“New Hawaii. But first, we’re stopping for a … consultation.” That was the most cheerful and least informative title he could put on his attempt to dodge a destiny MI-23 had been orchestrating his entire life.
The trip to the rendezvous point near Shangri-La’s subspace nexus went so smoothly that Reuben felt like the universe was conspiring against him. Days slipped away as he approached his showdown with the Black Ram. When he complained, Max said, “You should read Dante’s Inferno. ‘Easy is the decent into Hell.’”
“Thanks. Watching the noble heads roll in A Tale of Two Cities is depressing enough for now.”
At the preparatory meeting with partners, Reuben asked Daisy, “Do you know how to work the beam turret in case this is a trap?”
Daisy closed her eyes, linking to her distant sister. “I will soon.”
The Magi ship waited with all Icarus drives disabled in order to avoid detection.
An hour before midnight, Reuben paced on the bridge, watching the digital countdown. The moment the counter reached all zeroes, a large ship twisted into existence. The silhouette was a rapidly moving Goat trading vessel, probably hauling food, tourists, and souvenirs. Ironically, the items sold in most Shangri-La gift shops were manufactured cheaper on Goat worlds and imported.
After the trading ship passed above Solemnity, a small yacht detached from the underside of the right wing like a lamprey leaving a manta ray. The larger vessel accelerated toward civilization.
“That yacht has two beam turrets and a huge power supply,” Roz said.
“All the best toys,” said Reuben.
A few minutes later, Echo appeared on the bridge. “I detect ten Goats aboard the approaching craft. One aura has significant magnitude.”
“No doubt my distant cousin.”
Roz announced, “The yacht sent a point-to-point laser pulse with a one-word message, ‘Docking.’ Funny. They don’t identify themselves, and they didn’t ask who we are.”
“Draven probably has a Gentle who can see me from a hundred kilometers away.” Reuben glanced toward the elevator. “I should head to the airlock.”
“Wow. The enthusiasm,” Roz said with sarcasm. “You sound like my dad when he needed a colonoscopy.”
Reuben had three different crude responses but refrained because she was the closest thing to a mom he had. He punched the down button in silence. Maybe a meteor could hit one or both ships before I climb aboard the Black Ram’s craft.
His “harem” was waiting for him in the locker room, including Daisy. Blythe couldn’t help yawning because she normally went to bed early in order to cook breakfast before anyone else rose. The yacht was too big to fit inside the Solemnity, so it clamped to the hull beside the airlock. All of the women were wearing spacesuits for the three-meter tunnel between vessels.
Reuben said, “I think I’m going without protection today.”
“That’s how babies happen,” Daisy joked. The Goats glared at her. “Draven would laugh.”
“The Black Ram?” Blythe asked, in awe.
“I told you we had a consultation.” Straightening his suit and tie, Reuben led his group into the airlock.
Fifi fussed with her hair, even though it and her makeup were flawless. She had probably guessed their destination based on earlier conversations. Did she want to impress the current ram or hope to be the first to congratulate the new?
Guards stopped Daisy at the shuttle’s airlock door. For the Black Ram’s protection, only Goat citizens were allowed aboard. She responded, “I’ll just give him something for luck.” Her Anodyne accent had vanished, and she sounded like Ivy. Before Reuben could comment, Daisy kissed him deeply. Echoes of his former lover danced in his mouth. This had to be Ivy passing him a message through her sister. She was alive! Then, her velvet voice caressed his ear in English. “Go. Do what you must in order to be what you were meant to be. Consider this my final request.”
He tasted the salt of Daisy’s tears on his lips. She pulled away from his embrace and darted back toward Solemnity. He took a moment to regain control. The Goats in the room all stared at him for an explanation, but he offered none. Instead, Reuben marched forward to the guillotine like the hero of the Dickens novel, the others following on his heels.
Once inside the yacht proper, the smell of incense and perfume made him wish he had brought a helmet. Red carpets had been rolled out. The walls of the parlor were festooned with garish paintings and Louis XIV wallpaper. The floors were scattered with cushions, five with kneeling ewes. Four of the women offered some sort of refreshment: a brass-trimmed tea set, chocolate-covered delicacies, and at least one drug pipe. Dressed in gauzy, purple fabric, the final ewe seemed to be the offer.
Reuben whispered, “All that’s missing now is the pimp.”
On cue, a tall ram in a crimson suit wandered in from a side door. He sported a thin beard. “Cousin Reuben, blessings on you and yours.”
“Blessings on the servant of the people,” Fifi and Blythe responded, kneeling.
Reuben countered with the Magi greeting, “We uplift each other.” As Draven clasped hands with him, he noticed a media drone floating behind the Black Ram. “Is this a device to scan for weapons?”
“It does, but I record all my dealings for posterity, especially historic ones. We post a weekly summary of my antics to the major outlets. To make my expenses more palatable to the taxpayers, I make myself a form of mass entertainment.”
As Draven kissed shy Blythe’s cheeks, she asked, “What would be so historic about a consultation?”
“He didn’t tell you? Your friend has come to challenge me for my title. There are three traditional tests.”
Blythe gasped.
“He’s pulling your leg,” Reuben said. “I don’t want his job. No sane person would.”
Draven presented Blythe with a small vial of perfume. “Thus, he passes the first test.”
Fifi removed the glove from her spacesuit and extended a hand for her greeting.
Draven ignored the hand and kissed her neck. Seeing Reuben’s disgust, he said, “You don’t like me. Why?”
“Your duty is to sharpen our politicians, not justify their preconceptions.”
Draven shook a finger. “Lecture me once you’ve dealt with the straw heads for a few years. What do you know of our people’s problems? You’ve been away for a while.”
Reuben recited the latest list of crises, including the looming debt. “And I’ve discovered a few other bombs with long fuses that Xerxes left laying about.”
Raising his eyebrows, Draven said, “I stand corrected. You’re better informed than I am.” At his signal, the woman in purple poured two cups of steaming tea. “You must now choose one of these cups. One cup contains plain sugar, but the other has been laced with a sleeping pill. I will give you enough clues to deduce—”
Reuben knocked both cups and the pot off the tray. “When forced by your enemy to choose between two alternatives, pick neither. Only an idiot would drink poison because he’s been told to.”
Fifi and Blythe were speechless.
Clapping, Draven said, “That’s two tests passed.” The woman carried the tea set away. Others mopped up the spill.
“I’m leaving this farce,” Reuben said. As he touched the exit door, he heard the bolts click into place.
“Once the testing begins, no one may leave or enter.” Draven put a hand on his shoulder. “The legislature wants me replaced as soon as possible. I’ve been unable to solve too many of our people’s problems. If Reuben solves the latest puzzle for me, I am dethroned.”
“A problem so difficult he’ll be forced to tap the racial Collective Unconscious,” Fifi summarized. “I volunteer to assist. I ask the boon for the flock of Satyrica.”
All the women in the room except Blythe smiled.
“The boon of childbearing is onl
y binding once I become Black Ram,” Reuben said, his voice shaking. “Why would I accept this challenge?”
“The Llewellyn tells me your ship needs a diplomatic shuttle to reach your goal,” Draven replied. “If you win the bet, I’ll sign it over to you and catch a ride on the next available vessel.”
Crap. I have to win the shuttle, but if I can do it without proving I have Quantum Computing, they can’t force me to bear the title yet. “Who pays for your transportation expenses?”
“I will, of course.”
Still wearing his racing gloves, Reuben shook his opponent’s hand. “Deal.”
“How would you solve the Satyrican water issue?”
“The drought along the southern coast of Byrd?” asked Fifi. “The Bankers managed to gain rights to an aquifer at prices significantly below market value. They’re selling our people their own water.” Clearly, she knew the issue well.
Blythe asked, “How could one man hope to fix that?”
Reuben shook his head in disbelief. “Their lawyers will have ironclad contracts. We’ll never stop them in time by attacking the water directly.”
“Worse, they’re exporting the resource in bulk,” said Draven.
Reuben cursed in five languages.
Draven gestured to the seductive ewe dressed in purple. “Calmarie has been trained in the many arts of love. I offer her aid to guide you through this ordeal.”
“No. I accept Fiona’s offer of assistance.”
Blythe paled and crumpled onto a cushion, stricken.
“It’ll be okay,” Reuben said. “Trust me. In an hour, you’ll be thanking me.”
Fifi was already stripping out of her spacesuit, heedless of the observers.
“Wait. Don’t we get some sort of privacy?”
“Not the first time, old chum,” Draven said. “If it’s any consolation, no one here is permitted to speak of the ascension ceremony.”
“At least turn off the bloody cameras.”
“Oops. Sorry.” Draven pushed a cufflink, and the floating media ball dropped.
Reuben removed his jacket, handing it to Blythe. Weeping, she folded it neatly and then placed his shirt on top of it. He stopped at his boxers, a Human affectation that the other crewmembers had insisted upon after seeing him swim naked in the koi pond. He dropped the gloves on the floor.
Through the Collective, he felt Fifi’s admiring gaze on his body. When he turned to examine her, he couldn’t stop his body from reacting to her shapely form. He cursed his weakness. Resisting was going to be harder than he thought.
“How do you want to start?” she asked breathily.
Stick to the plan. “Kissing every square centimeter of you while I hold you tight against me.”
She complied eagerly. After several minutes of hoarse panting, he couldn’t think anymore. Excellent. Casually, he nibbled Fiona’s ear. “You’re a clever woman. How would you delay the Bankers for a year?”
Grinning, Fifi replied, “Go after what the loss of water will do to the grape crops. Bring public opinion to bear by accusing Bankers of causing a wine shortage.” She nuzzled his neck, sending a thrill through him.
Reuben nodded. “Mix that message with images of tellers complaining about how we’re all lazy drunks, and Draven can imply they’re manipulating the water to get rid of our wine altogether.”
Breath trembling, Fifi said, “Shut up. I’m ready for you.”
Exercising Herculean restraint, Reuben slipped on his gloves. “I’m done.”
“What?” she replied, confused.
Climbing into his pants, Reuben explained, “The bet was not for me to have sex. I boosted the Satyrican supplicant so she could answer the question herself. QED.”
Blythe clapped enthusiastically. “He wins!”
Draven shook his head. “No. That’s only temporary. The legislature wants a permanent fix.”
Reuben flapped his elbows while donning the fine shirt. “After we stall for a year or two, the situation will resolve itself.” He took the Black Ram aside in private and whispered the secret of Glory Point.
Whooping with laughter, Draven patted Reuben on the back and reactivated the media drone. “Cousin, you have bested me. I yield all I possess to your keeping.”
“Not so fast.” Reuben pointed to Fifi. “As she will attest, I still haven’t proven I possess the Quantum Computing talent. I’m ineligible to serve until then.”
The naked ewe shrieked in rage, launching herself at him.
Oddly, Draven blocked the attack. “Remember your oath, Ms. Fidelos. For now, he shall be Black Ram-elect. The law allows for this transitional period. Centuries ago, before we had ansibles, the title was common.”
Fifi seethed while Reuben and Blythe beamed. “I’ll watch him as my duty requires, even though he has played me for a fool twice. Eventually, he’ll not only fall to me, but I’ll make him beg for the privilege.”
Draven said, “Indeed. We all believe your resolve, Ms. Fidelos. This quote will definitely make the news feed.”
Shrieking again, Fifi grabbed the nearest two pillows and ran from the room.
Reuben handed the crumpled dress to Blythe. “Could you give that to her?”
“Don’t you want to celebrate?” she asked, batting her lashes.
Avoiding the question, Reuben radioed the bridge of Solemnity. “Good news, guys. I got us a diplomatic shuttle. The bad news is we have to find the closest vessel willing to accept ten passengers.”
“My crew is at your disposal,” Draven said. “Only I need to leave.”
“Actually, the Magi insist that everyone be in stasis during our jumps, and we have just enough pods for the existing crew.”
“You need more guards.”
“The team I already have could beat yours any day of the week. Besides, as the official Black Ram, you need to keep your normal security contingent.”
“Very well. I’ll have my pilots train yours.”
Reuben sighed. “We’ll have to wait for Fiona to calm down first.”
“Hah! I’m so going to enjoy your show.”
“I don’t want to record things with the drone.”
“It’s that or an extra four MI-23 thugs.” Draven handed over the cufflinks. “Besides, it’s a gift from the Turtles. When you twist the tie pin, the ball projects a force field.”
Like Max’s vest. “I suppose that could be useful.”
“Oh, when you do assume the title, you get to take one memento with you. Everything else must be given away. With such determined ewes following you, I’d put my house in order as soon as possible.” Draven transferred the tie pin and the unit’s ownership.
“That felt like being handcuffed and read my rights.”
“Get some sleep. Your classes start tomorrow. I have a lot of wisdom to impart that may ease your transition.”
Chapter 21 – A Reason to Drink
Max greeted Reuben on his return. “You’re back earlier than expected. Congratulations.”
The floating media drone recorded his lackluster reply. “Draven tricked me into taking the trappings of the office, but MI-23 still doesn’t have proof of my talent. I’m the Black Ram-elect.”
“How long can you walk that tightrope?”
Reuben shrugged. “Until we need another big favor from the Goat government or I break my vow of celibacy.”
“Ouch. Why are you putting this off?”
“I’m accountable for every act I commit, but history will never hear my side of the story. Even though I’ll do everything for the love of the herd, my own people will mock and jeer me.”
Max put an arm around him to lead him to the dining hall. “You’re the worst sort of villain, the man with a holy mission.”
“But I’ll look damn good wearing it.”
“Anything I can do for you?”
“Roz and Fiona need to practice with the yacht before we can use it,” Reuben said, exhausted by his ordeal. “Could you arrange that?”
“Sur
e. No problem. Do I treat you any different now that you’re a big cheese?”
“Don’t beat me up in public, but other than that, everything stays the same. I’ll need friends like you to keep me grounded.”
Streamers hung from the ceiling of the common area and a banner proclaimed, “Long Live the Black Ram.”
Max sat on the long bench in front of the cafeteria table. “I’m thinking Blythe might be good at that job.”
Reuben sat beside his friend. “Tempting, but she might ‘forget’ about contraception in all the excitement. That can’t happen for the same reason Roz can’t have kids. If she conceives, by Magi rules she can’t go into the low-quality stasis pod during the jump.”
Gazing at the media drone, Max said, “Can we talk, off the record?”
Reuben pressed his new cufflink, and the ball dropped. “Don’t worry. I can freeze the feed any time, and we only transmit what the team approves.”
“We can’t fake the time stamps on your recordings. Someone will notice the thirty days we didn’t spend in subspace.”
“Then I won’t send anything, but I still need the device for protection. I can’t jettison the thing because it was a gift from the Turtles.”
“Can’t argue with that,” Max said. “Another reason Roz can’t have a child is that bonding to a Magi has changed her biochemistry. She can’t have a child unless Echo provides the mitochondrial DNA. A Magi specialist would have to oversee the process.”
“Because of your unique cross-species situation?”
“Echo may be too old and her organs too damaged to assist in conception.”
The woman who the universe created for motherhood couldn’t have that experience for herself. However, someone who wasted his life as a criminal and talentless musician was being required to pop out a male heir on every Goat planet. The universe isn’t frilling fair.
Reuben stood to leave. “I have class tomorrow.”
“That means you have no class now?” Max joked. “Wait. Roz is baking you a cake.”
“Ivy just kissed me good-bye. She told me her last wish was for me to mate with Goat ladies and have lots of talented babies. Then she cried. I have to process that. I need time to mourn.”