Four Tomorrows: A Space Opera Box Set

by James Palmer

  Several bodies lay at his feet. The soft glow of plasma burning slowly on the corpses pierced the darkness of the room, giving Bal hazy vision extending slightly more than a yard.

  A face suddenly appeared in the gloom, hairless and shiny, with small, lidless round eyes and fin-like projections protruding from the cheeks. Below was a torso with rippling muscles, which resembled lacquered piano wires.

  Before Bal could move, a piercing pain emanating from his torso permeated his entire frame. He gasped once, and collapsed to the floor, writhing in pain. The Corruban struggled to retain his grip on the blaze gun.

  Rebani Kalba suddenly felt Bal’s distress as if it were his own. Marshalling his strength, he threw off his attackers, sending them to the floor in all directions.

  Came a crash. The glassteel case had been shattered, Rebani knew.

  The Sabour flew across the room as if propelled by bdellium. In the dim light of glowing plasma, Rebani Kalba took in the scene in a glance.

  Bal Tabarin’s attacker was gone.

  So was the gem.

  18 In Which Light

  Dispels a Shadow

  Bal Tabarin awoke slowly, regaining consciousness as though coming out of a thick fog into a clear, sunlit area; from darkness to thick grayness to light, wispy grayness to blurred reality to clarity. He found Rebani Kalba kneeling over him. The Sabour’s face was unusually grim.

  Bal tried to sit up, but could not. Sudden memory caused him to feel his midsection, where the pain had been, and he found a plastiskin patch there. He must have been drugged as well, for the pain was gone.

  Bal attempted to hoist himself up onto an elbow, but failed. He was still weak.

  Rebani extended a firm hand, wet with blood and medicine. “You’ll live,” he announced, trying to sound optimistic. He wasn’t particularly successful.

  Bal took the Sabour’s hand, and was pulled to his feet by surprising strength. “The gem?” he asked weakly.

  “Gone,” answered Rebani Kalba solemnly.

  Bal glanced over the Sabour’s shoulder; standing in the doorway to the room was the tall, thin Museum official. His skin was now an iridescent blue. “The curator?”

  “Angry,” said Rebani. “But that is the least of our worries.”

  He watched as Bal shakily walked toward the arched doorway, carefully avoiding workers who were removing the bodies of the eyeless serpentine creatures. There were almost two dozen of them.

  As he neared the blue-skinned curator, Bal said, “Sorry. We did our best.” The words came out of him with obvious effort. The short walk to the doorway had tired him.

  The curator blushed gray in response as Bal limped by him.

  Rebani Kalba, following his wounded companion, said to the curator in a remorseful tone, “The Brotherhood of Sabours will compensate you in whatever way you deem appropriate.”

  The pale curator said nothing.

  The ghostly image of Dr. Habûl finished examining Bal Tabarin’s wound in the sick bay aboard The Vagabond Lady. Josef, Bal’s valet-bot, hovered like a mother over her sick child while Rebani Kalba waited quietly in one corner of the room.

  “The wound is small, and oval. It was caused by a sudden penetration,” explained Habûl, his wide lips moving pleasantly. “The angle of penetration, and size and roughness along the edges of the wound suggest that it was caused by the extremity of the upper appendage of a bipedal creature.”

  “A hand did this to me?” exclaimed Bal.

  “A claw, more precisely,” Habûl said in his normal gruff tone, frowning at his patient, “or claws, as there seem to be more than one on the extremity. The presence of certain chemicals in the patient’s bloodstream indicates that the claws were tipped in a non-lethal toxin. There is not enough evidence to determine whether this toxin was natural within the creature, or specially introduced externally to the claws.

  “The comparative analysis with all known natural toxins has not yet been completed,” he added.

  “Whether by luck or design,” continued the camel-faced Habûl, “the blow struck a nerve center, thereby causing immediate and painful incapacitation.”

  “I noticed that as well,” Rebani Kalba said thoughtfully.

  “What does that mean?” asked Bal, pulling himself into a sitting position on the diagnostic bed. He gazed at the Sabour.

  “It may mean nothing,” Rebani said, unconvincingly.

  “Death would probably have resulted shortly if not for immediate medical intervention,” continued Habûl in a disinterested tone.

  “That’s enough, Doc,” Bal said, motioning to Josef. “Thanks for your help. I’ll be in touch if something else comes up.”

  Giving the distinct impression that his time had been wasted, the irascible doctor severed the holophone connection.

  Seeing the quizzical expression on the Monitor’s face, Bal explained, “He’s been my doctor since I was born ... he delivered me.”

  Ignoring the remark, Rebani asked, “Did you see your attacker?”

  Bal Tabarin described the fearful being who had attacked him, but wasn’t too helpful, he thought. “The light was pretty bad.”

  “He was a Nergon,” Rebani Kalba said quietly.

  “What’s a Nergon?” said Bal.

  Eyes hooded, Rebani Kalba spoke emotionlessly. “The Nerga were one of several enemies of the Brotherhood of Sabours who took advantage of our weakness following the Sund War. Hailing from the so-called ‘Black World’, they had been our sworn enemies since we abolished their raiding practices millennia ago. They never forgot, and, when we were at our weakest, attacked us mercilessly, swearing to die rather than surrender. We took them at their word and exterminated them. One escaped ... Chon.”

  “Why is he still running loose?” asked Bal. “Why haven’t you people done something about him?”

  “It is a big galaxy,” explained Rebani, with a touch of frustration in his voice. “We cannot locate every enemy of the Sabours.”

  Bal Tabarin suddenly remembered his wound, and lightly felt the spot.

  “I shudder to think for what purpose Chon wants the gem,” Rebani said, interrupting Bal’s reverie. “Whatever it is, it bodes ill for the Milky Way.”

  Rebani Kalba glanced at Bal. “I suspected it when I saw your wound.”

  Bal Tabarin stood slowly, holding onto Josef’s sturdy frame for support. “I remember being afraid, just before the attack. I almost panicked, the feeling was so intense.”

  “It is one of the Nerga’s animal abilities,” explained Rebani. “To project emotion, similar to the hypnotic effect of the swaying cobra.”

  The Sabour’s emerald green eyes blazed, burning into Bal as Rebani gazed at him. His face was hard. “It is imperative that we retrieve the gem from Chon. We must follow him, while I have a Sabour go to Covenant to guard the gem there from Chon and Arga Cilus, in the case that they have located it as well.”

  “Wait a millichronon,” objected Bal. “Assuming that I agree with your plan, what makes you think that you can locate Chon?”

  “The gem led us to this planet,” explained Rebani. “It will undoubtedly lead me to Chon so long as he possesses the other gem, especially if I deduce its ‘feelings’ correctly.”

  “Those being?” questioned Bal.

  “The gem in the museum was agitated by Chon’s approach, disturbed by it. It would therefore seem to be in the gem’s best interest to help me locate Chon, so I can get the gem away from him.”

  “Assuming you have interpreted its ‘agitation’ correctly,” Bal pointed out.

  “At the very worst, it will refuse to help me locate Chon,” replied Rebani, “and we will be no worse off than we are now.”

  “Okay,” admitted Bal, “you’ve thought that part of it out. But I don’t think you’ve really considered what it might mean to send a Sabour to Covenant, demanding to see the gem.”

  Bal gazed levelly at the Sabour. “You could start a jihad. Those people are touchy about their religious artifa
cts, and they’re just not going to take kindly to another religious group horning in on their territory. They’re called fanatics for a reason, you know.”

  “I am aware of fanaticism,” Rebani said coldly. “We cannot let Chon or Arga Cilus gain possession of the gem on Covenant, if it is part of the Heart.”

  “All right,” said Bal casually, raising his hands in supplication. “How about this for a plan: You follow Chon and I’ll go to Covenant. I don’t have an axe to grind with their religion, and I can honestly say I’m there for scientific purposes. I may have a chance to get a look at it, and confirm if it is part of the Heart, at least.”

  “I don’t like it,” said Rebani Kalba.

  “Naturally,” growled Bal softly, put off by the grim Sabour’s pessimism. “If you’ve got a better idea, I’m perfectly willing to listen to it,” he offered, smiling disingenuously. “But none of this sending-armed-soldiers-to-Covenant floogwash – which is the way the Covenant government would interpret it, and you know it.”

  After a moment’s pause, the Monitor answered, “Let me meditate on it.”

  Without waiting for a reply, Rebani Kalba turned and left the room.

  “Naturally,” growled Bal Tabarin in a low tone after the Sabour.

  Bal Tabarin walked slowly, moving cautiously down the corridor toward his cabin. Josef shuffled noisily beside him, hovering in a manner that made Bal uncomfortable.

  “I’m not an invalid,” growled Bal gruffly.

  “Of course not,” Josef hummed. “You merely require accompaniment to your quarters in the case that you should collapse. But you are not, technically, an invalid, sir.”

  The valet-bot had regained some of his subversive attitude upon learning Bal was, in fact, reasonably healthy.

  “Perhaps next time, you will consider remaining with me aboard the ship, sir,” suggested Josef.

  From behind the two, Rebani Kalba’s tense voice said, “I have something to show you.”

  Startled, Bal nearly tumbled to the floor. “I wish you wouldn’t do that,” he complained, turning to face the Sabour.

  Rebani’s hand was extended, and held the gem. Bal looked at it.

  The hairs on the back of Bal’s neck stood on end. Two gems rested in the Sabour’s palm, not one – the gem Bal had found and the gem from the Museum of Fusail.

  Bal Tabarin’s face twisted in shock at the sight. “That’s impossible,” he exclaimed.

  The two gems were fused together as if one gem, with no discernible seam between their surfaces!

  19 In Which a Snake

  Captures a Rat

  The gem, now larger than a man’s fist, rested on a small, round table in the ship’s ward room. It seemed to glow contentedly, its inner fire appearing brighter than before. The original piece of the gem seemed to be glad to be re-joined by its brother, it appeared to Bal Tabarin.

  The Corruban watched it uneasily, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. In the hours that had passed since the Sabour had found the two fragments joined, Bal’s translation program had deciphered the runes on the piece from the Museum of Fusail as “and the end”.

  “The beginning and the end”. Bal didn’t like the sound of that. It seemed every time he learned something new about the pieces of the Sacred Heart, it was bad news.

  Rebani Kalba stood, large and silent like a slab of stone, in a nearby corner, gazing at the bright gem.

  “Well?” asked Bal, glancing at the Sabour.

  Rebani gazed at his companion uncertainly. “I cannot be sure. I believe the obvious explanation is the true one.”

  “Rather than let itself be taken by Chon, the gem in the museum teleported itself to my ship, where it somehow fused with the piece we already had?”

  Rebani shrugged. “Have you a better explanation?”

  Bal Tabarin shook his head slightly. He speculated that the two gems had to have been in close proximity for the teleportation trick. Or else why hadn’t it done it before? Had the threat of being taken by Chon prompted it? There were too many unknowns for the Corruban adventurer.

  “I don’t like this,” growled Bal. “The gem is more powerful than we suspected.”

  This comment was met by silence from the Sabour.

  Bal Tabarin gazed levelly at Rebani. “We didn’t suspect the gem was this powerful, did we?” he asked meaningly.

  The Sabour returned the gaze. “I suspected it, but had no proof.”

  “Why didn’t you say something?” Bal Tabarin growled.

  “You had your own suspicions,” reminded Rebani, green eyes glittering. “You came to me, fearful of what it might mean to bring the gems together, if you recall.”

  “But you knew from the very beginning, didn’t you?”

  Rebani, eyes hooded, nodded slightly. “I felt its power when I touched it in the cantina the day we met. As well as a glimmer of consciousness.”

  Bal scowled at the Sabour. “So you’ve been lying to me all along.”

  “I have never lied to you,” Rebani said firmly, eyes blazing like two green fires. “You named an exorbitant sum for the gem, knowing it was exorbitant, without realizing its worth. How much more would you have attempted to charge me if you had suspected its true value?

  “And as to the other, we have already discussed the vagueness of my impressions about the gem’s feelings. I was not certain until I found the two fragments fused together that the gem is both more powerful and more sentient than I previously believed.”

  This seemed to placate Bal, at least for the moment.

  “Did I withhold information from you?” Rebani asked rhetorically. “Yes. No hard information, only my suspicions. But I certainly have been more honest than you in this venture.”

  Bal scowled again. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Do you think I have been unaware of your ambivalence over this quest? That you have repeatedly considered abandoning it and me?” asked Rebani. “Or unaware of the fact that you stole the gem in the first place?”

  Bal Tabarin smiled disingenuously. “None of that matters now,” he said in a gentle tone. “I didn’t abandon you. All that matters now is, what are we going to do?”

  Rebani gazed at Bal for long moments in silence. His anger was not so easily forgotten as Bal’s. Bal waited patiently. Finally, Rebani said, “My original plan stands. We must retrieve the gem on Covenant.”

  “What about Chon?” asked Bal.

  “He is gone, and has no gem.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  The Sabour frowned. “The two gems are here,” he said, gesturing to the table.

  “How did he find the gem in the museum?”

  Rebani Kalba pondered this.

  Bal spoke. “What if he has a piece of the gem, and used it to guide him to Fusail, like us?”

  “That is one possibility,” conceded Rebani.

  “You know another?” prompted Bal.

  “Perhaps he sensed the two gems in proximity,” Rebani speculated. “Or he may have some method of locating the gems we know nothing about.”

  “Do you believe that?” Bal asked skeptically.

  “No,” answered Rebani, “but I am trying to consider all the options. The Nerga have a strong empathic ability.” He glanced at the gem. “In any case, our course of action should still be going to Covenant. Chon will seek that gem, as well, if he is aware of it.”

  “And Arga Cilus and his group are looking for it also,” reminded Bal.

  Rebani’s face was hard when he gazed at Bal. “What Arga Cilus has in mind for the gem – whatever it may be – pales beside what Chon will do with it.”

  “And that’s what?”

  “Slaughter and conquest,” replied Rebani. “And death.”

  The Sabour held up a hand to forestall Bal’s question. “I do not know how Chon could use the gem to do these things, but he would have no other interest in the gem. He must believe he can turn it into some kind of weapon.”

  Bal Tabarin s
uddenly remembered the discussion the two had had about the Ancients and their Artifacts. “Or he believes it already is one.”

  The small, boxy ship dropped out of hyperspace, and sped with unsuspected grace toward the small red planet below. The ungainly-looking vessel skimmed the atmosphere, and headed directly for its destination. It landed near a large, stone structure that lay half-buried in red sand, a rounded top visible above the soil. It was an ancient building which had been swallowed by the sands. Upon closer inspection, it resembled a large head, worn nearly smooth by exposure to vicious sandstorms.

  A short, squat figure ambled from the ship in a sort of a waddle. He had an egg-shaped head, and a sallow green complexion. Large fin-like ears sat high up on his head, and resembled sails. His eyes were large and round and fish-like. It was Omar Batrachian. A boxy metallic being followed along behind Batrachian in a shuffle not unlike Batrachian’s own waddle. It had several appendages, folded up against its frame, and its chassis was burnished from exposure to the elements.

  “Come along, Edd,” instructed Omar Batrachian. EDD-249 was a labor-bot, designed to excavate, grade and pave. On a very small scale, of course. Omar Batrachian had purchased him second-hand from a pothole-filling company.

  Omar Batrachian led Edd around the round, head-like structure, consulting a small scanalyzer. Holographic enhancement showed Batrachian what the structure had looked like millennia earlier. He located what had been the face.

  Batrachian directed Edd to a specific area, and the ‘bot began digging. He watched patiently as Edd went to work. One of the bot’s arms was a large bore, another a scoop to turn aside the earth as it was pushed out of the hole by the bore. Nearly an hour had passed when Edd had excavated enough soil for it to become plain that the lower portion of the face, buried in sand, was better preserved than the remainder visible above the surface. Edd uncovered the mouth of the head.