by James Palmer
“Just one: Prove who does have the gem.”
“That’s what I was afraid you were going to say,” groaned Bal.
The situation was even more complicated that that: There was no reason to think that the Corruban wouldn’t be suspected as Rebani’s accomplice when the gem turned up, planted on Xiten to clear the Sabour.
Still, it was Rebani Kalba’s best hope.
Bal Tabarin was many things – a scholar, an adventurer, a thief (some said, though he preferred to think of it as rescuing important artifacts from those who didn’t properly value them) – but a detective was not one of them. To say nothing of having no authority on Covenant. Though he tried, he was refused access to the investigation ... which really left him with only one option.
In the hours following the assassination of the Hierophant, security was understandably tight. Though he hadn’t been confined to quarters, Bal’s movements – along with every foreign visitors’ – were severely curtailed. He had no hope of getting to and searching the quarters of either Xiten or Virga. Surely the Covenant guards had searched them and come up empty; perhaps Xiten had done what the inquisitors claimed Rebani had done, since the gem had not been found on his person: hidden it somewhere in the castle itself. Now that the alleged assassin was in custody, this was what occupied the guards, searching the castle. If it were found, it did not shift the blame way from the Sabour.
Given the timing of events, it was known that the Sabour had not left the castle after the assassination, so none of the alien ships had been searched. That sounded like a good hiding place to Bal, then, upon learning that Xiten and Virga had retreated to their own vessel in the middle of the night, “for their own safety”, pleading concern of a larger plot – undoubtedly taking their stolen jewel with them.
When the gem did not turn up in the castle, the Covenant guards would surely begin to search the ships, assuming the aid of an accomplice. But it was small and ships were large, and someone as thorough and clever as Xiten would surely have an undiscoverable hiding place aboard his ship. Just as Bal Tabarin himself did. They would have to dismantle The Vagabond Lady to find all its secret places.
Bal hoped that the lovely Virga was not truly involved. She must surely be the unwitting pawn of the nefarious Xiten, the Corruban thought.
When the Corruban arrived at the spaceport, he discovered that the captain of Virga’s schooner had filed plans to depart later that day. Since the pair was not suspect, the flight plan had been approved.
Josef met Bal Tabarin at the portal to The Vagabond Lady, looking worried, if such a thing were possible. Since his face was capable of very limited expression, this impression mostly came from his mannerisms, which were human-like. “Now, sir? Where is Master Kalba?”
“No, not now,” Bal said wearily, referring to the instructions he had given the valet-bot earlier. “He’s decided to sit it out for awhile where he is. Breaking out will only lead to more trouble, he thinks.”
“He is probably correct, sir,” buzzed Josef sympathetically.
“Probably,” admitted the Corruban in a rueful tone.
Casting an eye towards Virga’s sleek schooner, the Narsiscus, Bal asked, “What’s been going on here?”
“The schooner is preparing to depart,” Josef replied.
“Anything suspicious?”
“No, sir.”
Gazing back at the valet-bot, Bal said, “Get me a deck plan of that ship.”
“Of course, sir,” answered Josef in a dutiful tone. “Do we have enough in petty cash to cover bail?”
While his servant was busy procuring deck plans to the schooner, Bal Tabarin had gathered his equipment. This was a collection of devices he normally used in his expeditions. It was not often that he appropriated items belonging to another Sentient; while taking a particularly important artifact from a primitive tribe was not beneath him, he was no housebreaker.
Collecting the devices that he thought might be useful – leaving behind often-used items such as nightvision goggles and holobinoculars – Bal then dressed himself. By the time that he had finished, Josef had sent the deck plans to his holophone, which chimed as the data arrived.
It was not long after Bal Tabarin received his desired information that a port authority inspector arrived at the schooner belonging to Princess Virga. He had, in fact, apparently made his way down the line of ships in the spaceport, visiting each one in turn in this terminal, as he was seen departing the nearest ship to the schooner, Bal Tabarin’s vessel.
“Amra Royeno,” said the inspector, flashing a colorful holotronic badge to the sailor at the entrance to the schooner.
Verifying the authenticity of the badge, the sailor stepped aside dutifully. “What’s the trouble, sir?” He had been given strict instructions to admit no one without proper authority.
“Bilgash infestation on another ship in the terminal,” said Inspector Royeno. “We don’t think it’s spread but we have to contain it, of course. We’re inspecting all the departing ships first, so as not to delay their exit.”
That made sense to the sailor, who had never heard of “bilgash”. If he had, he would have known that it was a particular type of fungus that was considered a delicacy on certain worlds in the Outer Norma Arm of the Milky Way.
When he began to follow the inspector below decks, Royeno turned and told him, “It doesn’t matter to me if you want to accompany me, but I’d get protection if I were you.” With a hand, he showed a small holotronic broach. “This will kill anything that’s airborne, to a degree. Every Sentient is supposed to wear one, technically. But if you want to come along ….”
“No, no,” said the sailor; he had not been briefed on such equipment when he had signed up for employment on the schooner, and if any of the crew had ever worn such a protective device, he had never seen it. “You just do what you need to do.”
Under his breath, he added, “And let me know if I need to get off this ship, eh?”
Amra Royeno nodded at the sailor, giving him a conspicuous wink.
And with that, Bal Tabarin A.K.A. “Amra Royeno” gained entrance to Princess Varga’s schooner.
A holotronic camouflager had gotten the Corruban on board; this was the same device as Xiten’s “image maker”, which created a holographic shell around its wearer, allowing him to take on the image on anyone, real or fictitious.
Now came the hard part – finding the gem. It had to be here somewhere, Bal knew – but where?
Most hidden places, that is, places designed to be hidden, rely on one or more methods to conceal detection. Bal Tabarin knew all of them. Using the deck plans to the schooner, he compared compartments to the specifications. And he used a powerful scanner to detect unusual materials; these would be used to block sensors searching for a particular substance, such as radioactive material or valuable metals.
Bal worked as quickly as he could, for the longer he was present, the more chance of discovery there was. He had covered all the bases that he could think of – forging a Covenant Port Authority badge (actually not as difficult as he’d expected) and his own ship’s communications set was turned up so much that it would override the Port Authority’s, in case anyone on the schooner tried to verify the inspection. In that case, Josef was prepared to stand in for the dispatcher, confirming Amra Royeno’s assignment.
Bal also carried his small blaze pistol and jammer, if it came to the worst case. In the Corruban’s experience, one could usually rely on things coming to the worst case.
Suddenly, Bal Tabarin heard a slight noise behind him, and whirled around – to find himself!
“Xiten, I presume,” said “Amra Royeno”.
“Bal Tabarin, I presume,” countered the changeling. Palming a holophone, the faux Corruban signaled the bridge. “There is an intruder in the engine room,” said Xiten as Bal. Then, to the real Bal Tabarin, he said, “Unfortunately, you were seen boarding the Narsiscus, and will be apprehended shortly as a trespasser.”
Bal watc
hed as Xiten’s features shimmered, shifting like the sands of a dune, and finally resume their gargoyle-like shape.
“I won’t be needing this, then,” Bal said, holding up his distorter. This is what had caused his image to assume that of the Covenant Inspector, Amra Royeno. Xiten the changeling watched in puzzlement as the small device began to smoke. The Corruban dropped it to the floor, where it dissolved into an unrecognizable lump.
It didn’t take long for ship security to arrive and take Bal into custody, from whence he was turned over to Covenant authorities.
27 In Which Brothers
Are Reunited
Covenant’s sun was setting when Princess Virga’s schooner Narsiscus lifted off. The ship glittered in the golden sunlight of eventide. Bal Tabarin’s steely eyes watched this from the cell adjoining Rebani Kalba’s in Covenant’s jail.
“There they go,” lamented the Corruban, “with the gem. I blew it.”
“They only have the one piece,” Rebani said in a consoling tone from behind a wall. “We still have our two, and as long as we do, they can’t put the Sacred Heart together. We may yet still prevail.”
“Oh? And how do you propose we do that?” From where Bal sat – literally – their chances of doing much of anything seemed rather slim. While his crime was minor, there was already talk of a Sabour conspiracy, which Bal was caught up in. And unlike most civilized worlds, legal rights were almost nil on Covenant. These were dispensed solely at the discretion of the Council, which enacted laws proscribed by the Hierophant.
When the Corruban had been found snooping on Princess Virga’s yacht, and “apprehended” – though ambushed was a better description – he had been turned over to local authorities for punishment. The laws of Covenant frowned on murder, even when it involved foreigners. Bal Tabarin’s crime in such close relation to Rebani Kalba’s suggested conspiracy to those on Covenant, even if the Corruban was not suspected of committing murder himself.
“Tell the truth and you should be fine,” offered Rebani, apparently sensing the Corruban’s worries. “You believed me innocent of assassinating the Hierophant; thought that Xiten might have the gem and went looking for it, he having fled the castle suspiciously after the murder; neither you nor I were involved in any conspiracy to assassinate the Hierophant. That should clear you of any serious crime. Since you trespassed on a ship that did not belong to Covenant and no citizen of Covenant was involved, you should get nothing more than a slap on the wrist.”
All of which made sense, Bal contemplated, but perhaps it was wishful thinking. People who’d just had their leader killed were not always reasonable in the aftermath, and many an innocent man had been convicted and/or killed in such circumstances – the victim of a conspiracy. “And what about you?”
“Don’t worry about me,” the Sabour said.
True to Rebani Kalba’s prediction, Bal Tabarin was fined and released, and the Corruban had to wonder if the Sabour had foreseen this outcome, psychically. Using his I-card, he paid the fine – which was rather hefty; it would have been much worse if he’d been found to have impersonated a Covenant official, but he had disposed of the only evidence that he had done so – the distorter – upon learning that Xiten himself had provided him with eyewitnesses to his trespass as Bal Tabarin; this prevented anyone from proving that he had disguised himself as an inspector. As it was, he was escorted back to the jail, where he would wait until the payment was processed – one Standard business day; then he’d be free to go.
There, he asked Rebani, “How do you hope to convince the magistrate that you’re innocent when the gem is gone?”
“I don’t,” the Udehe Monitor said flatly. “That is now impossible.”
“Then what are we going to do?”
“Be ready to leave as soon as you are released,” said Rebani.
“You mean leave you here?” asked Bal incredulously.
“Just do as I say,” the Sabour returned in a tone that left no room for disagreement.
“All right,” answered Bal, wondering how Rebani would escape – if he would – if Bal left him on Covenant; that seemed to be a sure death sentence.
But escaping would appear to be – and would be assumed to be – an admission of guilt by the Covenant Council, which might spark off a war with the Brotherhood. This was a conflict that Covenant could not hope to win, but, whatever the outcome, the reputation of the Brotherhood of Sabours would be tarnished, guilty of conspiracy. Perhaps the best they could do would be to bring the matter to interstellar court – which of course would be ignored by the isolationist religious fanatics.
The thought bothered the Corruban all night: Was that Rebani’s plan – to sacrifice himself so that Bal could leave? It didn’t sound like him – and what of his quest to find the other gems? Could the intense Sabour quit it so easily?
Perhaps he expected the Brotherhood of Sabours to intervene shortly diplomatically.
There seemed little that Bal Tabarin could do except as the Sabour had asked. The next morning, when he was released, he used his returned holophone to instruct Josef to ready The Vagabond Lady for takeoff. Still wondering what Rebani had planned, he distractedly made his way through the city to the spaceport.
“Are we ready to go?” asked Bal when he arrived at the portal to his ship, where Josef awaited him, appearing nervous.
“Yes, sir,” buzzed the valet-bot. “I – ”
“I don’t care,” interrupted the Corruban harshly. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Yes, sir, but – ”
“No buts, Josef,” grated Bal. “I just want to get out of here.”
“But Master Kalba – ”
“Forget it,” Bal said angrily, not wanting to face the fact that he was abandoning his ... friend. “Not another word. Shut up the hatch while I start the engines.”
“Yes, sir,” Josef answered peevishly as he went about his assigned task.
Bal went to the bridge and started the engines. As they warmed up, he contacted the control tower for clearance and received it. His mind roiled as it searched for some means to help Rebani Kalba. The Vagabond Lady was an unarmed vessel, and one man could not break the Sabour out of jail by force ... and only perhaps by stealth.
The Corruban’s mind raced.
Bal was about to shut down the engines when he heard Rebani’s voice in his ear: “I told you not to worry about me.”
Swiveling in his chair, the Corruban saw the Sabour standing behind him in the doorway of the bridge.
“What?!” Bal exclaimed. “How did you get here?”
“A tale for another time,” replied Rebani. “I suggest you lift off before they find that I am missing from their jail.”
Without another word, Bal Tabarin did just that.
Arga Cilus’ yacht, the Inclarnefa, hovered in space near – in galactic terms – the planet Covenant. The immense collector wanted to be nearby when the prize was captured. Princess Virga’s schooner looked like a toy boat beside Cilus’ vessel, which was only technically a “yacht” in the sense that it was a civilian passenger ship.
Virga’s Narsiscus was drawn into the bay of the Inclarnefa by grapplers, specialized graviton beams that acted only upon the surface of an object; if the grappler worked like natural gravity, objects behind the desired item would be caught in the beam, as well. Due to the nature of the grappler, a gravitic “shadow” was created behind or underneath the held object, which was usually a ship. These worked automatically, allowing the crew to begin shutting down their ship, and passengers to prepare for disembarkation.
When Princess Virga and Xiten strode down the ramp of the Narsiscus, the shapechanger carried a small box constructed of an artificial organic material that scanned like flesh; he had expected to need it to pass the security screening leaving Covenant with the gem in his possession, but the chaos following the Sabour’s arrest had made this original plan unnecessary.
Colonel Morion waited for them at the bottom of the portal ramp. A smug
smile adorned his craggy features. It made him even more repellant, Princess Virga thought as she saw him.
“Ah,” breathed Morion as he stretched out a hand for the box, “that is the prize?”
Almost imperceptibly, Xiten clutched the box even closer to his breast. “It is. Take us to Cilus.” It was clear that the shapeshifting actor thought himself above the faux colonel. His pretend standing was, of course, superior in rank to whatever true one he might have attained.
Morion’s face hardened, but, with a click of his heels, he spun and led the way to Arga Cilus’ environmental chamber. There, lovely Virga’s delicate features twisted in surprise at the sight of Omar Batrachian. Xiten, who was less flappable than the young princess, growled, “What are you doing here?”
Then the shapechanger’s gaze fell upon Chon. His countenance twisted in displeasure at the sight of the newcomer. “And who’s our new member?”
“This,” rumbled Arga Cilus, who lay indolent upon his hover sled, “is Chon the Nergon. The price of admittance to our little club was a piece of the Heart.”
Xiten glanced at Omar Batrachian as his gargoyle face smiled gruesomely. “So we’re one big happy family again.”
“Happy” did not quite describe the feelings of all those present. Omar Batrachian was there under duress: In fear for his life, he had taken the dark Nergon to the Inclarnefa, where other fragments waited. Chon got what he wanted: access to other pieces of the gem, and; Arga Cilus got what he wanted: another piece for himself. The little Tarbic was going to let the two fight it out for the completed Heart, staying out of the way. This had put the sixth of nine pieces in the Duhame’s shrunken hands.