by Unknown
Darius gasped. His eyes widened, then narrowed in anger. "You mock me."
Ba'al set his stylus down. His own kin was succumbing to the great lie. The Great Lady S'rah, Ba'al's first teacher, had told him it would happen. He squared himself to face Darius directly. "The creator's name is Lieutenant S'rah. She is a medical officer in the Fleet of the Most High. She is the one that changed us. She took the Gleven, the original inhabitants of our planet and altered them. We, the Leven, are the result."
Darius' face reddened. His nostrils flared. "Blasphemy! I don't know why my mother believes in you. However, I can tell you this, the followers of Mogg do not. Yes, Mother sent me here to listen to what you have to offer. But if it's ridicule and conspiracy theories, then I'll have none of it!"
Ba'al jumped up. He pounded his fist on his desk. "First words! The truth. Not theory."
Darius shook. Through clenched teeth, he said, "No, uncle, you are wrong. And you can find some other fool for whatever it is you want."
Ba'al sat down hard. His heart thumped in his chest. Relax. Breathe slowly. He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he saw that Darius was at the door, putting on his cloak. Ba'al needed Darius. He needed him to stay. He tried to appeal to his studious nature. "Do you read imprint?"
Darius paused. Imprint was the Leven's earliest form of writing. Few now remembered it. He studied Ba'al through hooded lids. "Yes."
Ba'al spoke softly. "I can prove my words. I have tablets."
Darius' gaze lingered for a moment longer. He resumed putting on his cloak. "I don't believe you."
Ba'al had no strength to defend his claim. His heart continued to pound erratically. He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. The door opened and shut. Ba'al felt around in his drawer for another tablet.
Damn! Why did I have to attack? Ba'al wouldn't admit it, especially to himself, but he was afraid. He feared he did not have enough time left to find someone to take up his mission. As much as he railed against his doctor, Ba'al could not deny that his heart was giving out. He had refused to believe it for some time. As a result, he put off finding an apprentice. Now the arrhythmic episodes were daily occurrences. He had no choice but to depend on Darius.
If he comes back, I'll be nicer. I'll be persuasive. Ba'al took a deep breath. His heart beat stabilized. He decided to go to his sister's house. He would go to Darius to demonstrate his sincerity. It would be a token of penance. Decision made, Ba'al rose to his feet.
The door opened. Darius walked in. Ba'al's breath caught in his throat. Only this time it was from surprise, not his heart. "Darius, I ... I was on my way to your mother's. I am sorry I spoke harshly."
Darius' normally confident gaze was hesitant. "Yes, well, I'm sorry, too. You're family. I should've at least given you the benefit of doubt." Interest sparkled in his eyes. "Do you really have tablets of imprint?"
Ba'al smiled inwardly. "So that's what brought you back. Inquisitiveness runs in the family."
"Some would say it is our curse."
"Indeed," said Ba'al. "Have a seat. Get comfortable."
While Darius shed his cloak, Ba'al went to a special cabinet. Within the climate-controlled interior were soft clay tablets. He selected one and returned to his desk. Darius was already seated. Ba'al picked up his stylus and swiftly marked the tablet. He looked over his work. Satisfied, he slid it to Darius.
Darius cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. "You write imprint?"
"Yes. Lt S'rah taught me. I wrote a good portion of the tablets still in existence. My grandfather wrote most of the rest. Many have been lost or destroyed."
Darius looked as if his good will had been betrayed. He seemed ready to bolt. "I thought the tablets would be historical."
Ba'al checked his anger. He reminded himself that he needed Darius and he needed him to believe. "Read this one first. Then if you are still interested, I'll get you a historical one."
Darius didn't back down or apologize for the slight. He spun the tablet around and read, "I swear that what I say is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth." Darius's cheeks colored slightly. He asked, "What is this last symbol?"
"My scribe's mark," said Ba'al. "We all had one. There were not that many of us. All official tablets bare the mark of the scribe that wrote it."
"None of Mogg's tablets have a mark."
Ba'al spoke without hesitation, "Then they are not official. Mogg is not on the list."
Darius' head popped up. "How do you know that?"
"I have the list in the other room," said Ba'al in a casual way. "Other than me, only Bakerson in Southcomp is still alive."
"Mogg's a scaly, at least part. That probably explains it."
Ba'al felt as if he skin was crawling. He hid it. He knew it would offend his nephew. "I agree. A Melchiorian would never be granted an official mark. I've read his writings. They are filled with his Melchiorian heritage. His 'better way' is a prelude to acceptance of a Melchiorian invasion."
Darius crossed his arms over his chest again. His haughty attitude returned. "What are you talking about? What's a Melchiorian? I think you deride him simply because he is a scaly."
Ba'al fought back the urge to vigorously defend the truth. He needed to sound reasonable, not crazy. "No, I simply speak the truth. I know it because the promise was made to me. By Lt S'rah. I negotiated it."
Darius rose to his feet. He looked down on his uncle. "And what promise did this S'rah make? Salvation? World peace?"
Ba'al stilled his face, but he couldn't still his sinking disappointment. He'd made a mistake counting on Darius. Even so, his mistake couldn't kill his pride. He voice strengthened and he said proudly, "She promised to make us Star People."
Darius' eyebrows knit together until they almost touched. He seemed confused. "She promised what?"
"To continue to give us the knowledge we need to eventually be like the Celestials. To eventually travel to other stars. Other planets."
Darius slowly closed his mouth. He sat down, stunned. "By Mogg, the stories are true. You're a cracked nut."
Ba'al took a deep breath. His nephew's words hurt. A lot, but he wouldn't give up. "Wait here. I'll be right back."
Darius nodded, but it wasn't very convincing.
Ba'al went to the door of his adjoining room. He gave his nephew a last look before unlocking the door. Darius was tapping his darkened glasses in the palm of his hand, looking bored. Ba'al disappeared into the room, returning a moment later with two clay tablets. He carefully placed them on the desk in front of Darius. "Start with this one."
Darius' eyes hungrily took in the ancient tablet. He lightly ran his fingers over the cuneiform script. He lifted his eyes to his uncle. "You wrote this?"
Ba'al picked up his old stylus and tapped it against his chin. "Yes, I did."
"It is old," said Darius.
"And so am I," harrumphed Ba'al. "One day you, too, will be old. If you are lucky. Read."
Darius read. When he finished, he pushed away the first clay tablet. He sat back and stroked his upper lip and chin, smoothing down his beard.
The accounts of the clash between the Celestials and the Melchiorians had not generated the interest Ba'al hoped. He sensed a hardening of his nephew's resolve. He doesn't believe.
Darius blinked one time, slowly. His unflinching gaze bore into Ba'al. "You mean to say that there is life on other planets and that they are more advanced than we are?"
"Yes, that is what I say."
Darius closed his eyes and shook his head.
Ba'al continued, "Since you are so enamored of the Coven, read the second tablet. You might find it interesting."
Interesting wasn't the right word. As Darius read, his neck muscles tensed and corded. The vein from his temple to his forehead throbbed. He violently pushed the tablet away from him and leaped up. "Blasphemy!"
Ba'al lurched forward, afraid his nephew would destroy the rare tablets. He felt a sharp stabbing pain in his chest. The same reoccurring pain tha
t had prompted Ba'al to send for his nephew in the first place. Only this time Ba'al's heart pounded once, twice, then a third time. It was not his regular heartbeat, or even the quickened pace of excitement. Each beat felt like a blow from a Coven, hammering on his chest. Ba'al fell back in his chair. Short, choppy gasps did not allow any air into his lungs. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, coming together to trickle down into his eyes.
Concern replaced the religious fervor that had dominated Darius' face. "Uncle?"
Ba'al's eyes lost focus. Time slowed. Finally, his heart began beating again, it's rhythm irregular. Fast, like the rapid tattoo of a drum in triplets. Then slow. He started breathing. He felt a cool cloth mopping the sweat from his brow. His heartbeat began t normalize. Vision returning, Ba'al brushed his nephew's hands away.
"I'm fine. I'm fine."
"Are you sure?" asked Darius. "You look pale."
Ba'al wasn't fine and he knew it. He felt like he was on the cusp of another attack, like he was dancing on a Coven's claw. He no longer had the luxury of time to convince his nephew. He needed an answer now. There was one last proof. "Pick up the tablets and follow me."
A more subdued Darius followed Ba'al, carefully cradling the clay tablets.
The room was small, seven meters by nine, the walls lined with sturdy shelves that contained row after row of clay tablets. Only a door in the far right corner was clear. Upon entering, lights in the ceiling turned on. They were not the same type of incandescent lights that illuminated the homes on Gleven See. These were brighter, their light more natural. Ba'al heard the sudden intake of breath behind him.
"Do not drop the tablets." He leaned against the one table in the center of the room. "Place them here. Follow me."
Ba'al shuffled over to the door in the corner. He waited for Darius to join him. Opening the door triggered the lighting, bathing the stairwell in brightness. A life-sized portrait of a beautiful woman greeted them. There was a strange other worldly appearance to her.
"Who's that?" asked Darius.
"The awe in Darius' voice warmed Ba'al's soul. "More blasphemy. Her name is S'rah. Come along."
The stairs went halfway up the wall before reversing and ending up above the library. Ba'al rested on the first landing. Sweat beaded his forehead once again.
"Uncle, is this necessary?" asked Darius. "You are weak. Maybe we should wait until you are better."
Ba'al plunged onward. He had to. "I'm as good as I'm going to be. Come along."
The door at the top of the stairs opened into a smaller room, little larger than a closet. A contoured chair, surrounded by panels on three sides, dominated the room. Ba'al stood in the doorway, winded. He had trouble catching his breath.
Gritting his teeth he said, "Take me to the chair."
Darius supported his uncle as they made their way across the room and into the chair.
Once in the chair, Ba'al sighed in relief and closed his eyes. His heartbeat calmed. He had forgotten how comfortable the chair was. He motioned Darius to sit at his feet. His nephew was practically trembling with excitement. "Uncle, what is it?"
"A communications console, Darius. It is a gift from the teachers. The only thing they left behind. Now hush. You have already read the transcript telling you who is speaking. So for now, simply listen."
Ba'al touched a button on the chair's armrest. Voices emanated from speakers embedded in the chair. A klaxon blared.
"Aaroo-aa. Aaroo-aa. Aaroo-aa. General Quarters. General Quarters. All personnel man your battle stations."
Darius jumped back, looking rapidly left and right. He started to speak. Ba'al hushed him with a hand motion.
"Captain to the bridge. Captain to the bridge."
"Status!"
"Sir, we were hailing Lieutenant S'rah. The planet responded with sonic pulses."
Darius interrupted. "The woman in the painting?"
Ba'al smiled. He had expected accusations of blasphemy. "Yes, Darius. Now remain silent."
"Any response from Lieutenant S'rah?"
None, sir. I've hailed on all frequencies."
"Captain, there's a shuttle rising off the planet. Now there are two, make that three shuttles. They are heading for the dark side of the planet. Sir, the last one is the Captain's Barge."
"Launch a probe. I want to know what is hiding back there. Comm have the Bila widen out in the direction those shuttles are taking."
"Aye, sir."
"Message sent, Captain."
"I want that barge. I want to know why they fired. Launch four interceptors, two on CAP, two shooters. Have four more on standby."
"Comm, hail the barge. Have you found any sign of Lieutenant S'rah?"
"No, sir."
"Very well. Keep looking."
"Captain, I have the barge."
"On screen."
"Captain Elo, what a surprise."
"Luc. So, you escaped and ran off to the Sultan of Melchior."
At the gasp from Darius, Ba'al paused the recording. He hadn't wanted to. He had been reliving the day in the Red Mountains when he first heard it. It was the same day he had watched the Coven fight. He opened his eyes. "Yes, Darius."
"Uncle Ba'al, are they ... flying?"
"Yes, Darius. They are. Isn't it glorious?"
"But," Darius struggled for words, "how is it possible?"
Ba'al felt his heart flutter. It was now or never. "They are the teachers, Darius. The true teachers. You must follow them."
"But Uncle, I have promised Mogg."
Ba'al's breath was coming in shallower measures. "you must break your promise to him. Promise to me. Where do think the knowledge of the Leven comes from? This room."
"That cannot be."
Ba'al convulsed. His chest rose from the contours of the chair before settling back down. A new voice beckoned from the speakers.
"Ba'al, this is Admiral S'rah. Do you read me?"
Ba'al's voice was barely above a whisper, but it was full of bliss. "Great Lady, you have come."
"I gave my word, Counselor Ba'al. My sensors indicate another presence. Is this your replacement?"
Ba'al looked to Darius. He raised an eyebrow, inquiringly. Ba'al wagered everything on this moment. There was no starting over or trying again with someone else. "Well, nephew?"
Darius looked shocked. His eyes opened wide, his mouth hung open. He moved his lips, but no sound came out.
Ba'al could offer no more encouragement. He was spent.
Finally, Darius nodded.
Ba'al slumped back in the chair and closed his eyes. His breath slowly exhaled. Weakly, between gasps, Ba'al said, "It is, Great Lady. He is Darius. He will be Leven's representative. But he is young."
"We all were once," said S'rah with warmth. "Well done, Ba'al. Prepare yourself to come aboard. S'rah out."
Ba'al thought she sounded pleased.
Darius could only splutter. "What have I done? I can't do this. Uncle, you must stay. You must help me."
Ba'al felt himself fading. He turned his head toward Darius and simply smiled.
***
It was a fine day. The air was crisp, the wind calm, and the sun shone brightly. In the distance, a bright yellow glow appeared underneath the tall rocket. Accompanied by the roar and smoke of Leven technology, it rose slowly and majestically into the sky.
Darius turned away, satisfaction and fulfillment lending his steps grace and firmness. He entered the stairwell that would take him down to a small room. In this room was a chair, the chair that would take him home. The home promised to him as it had been promised to his uncle before him.
Darius was now too old and frail to use a rocket to rendezvous with Minister Adam. He would instead use the transporter, the same one that had taken Ba'al. He wondered if it was possible that his uncle would greet him. With Celestials, nothing seemed impossible.
Careful not to get his robes dirty, Darius made himself comfortable in the chair. The air cocooned around him, swirling. A soothing hum fill
ed his ears. His little closet disappeared. Darius was to be the honored guest aboard the E'den on this greatest of days. Gleven See was about to become a member of the Most High federation of planets.
###
And so we leave Ba'al behind for now. If you enjoyed his adventures, then be on the lookout for the novel that inspired him.
Cadet Adam
written by
Bill Eckel
What follows are a couple of shorts that were fun to write. I felt like I had to share them. They are good children, really.
Day of Beginning
Anticipation hung in the clear cerulean sky keeping Izar, the red dwarf sun that gave life to the planet Koi, company. Ardashir had been looking forward to this celebration of the Day of Beginning for an entire year. Finally, he would hand over the responsibility of being First of the Republic to his son, Paiman. Finally, he could fulfill the compulsion.
"Paiman, come to the balcony," he called. "You do not want to miss the launch of the colony ships."
Ardashir heard the silken swish of Paiman's floor-length robe as he stepped out onto the wide, open balcony outside the office of the First of the Republic. Paiman wore the same ceremonial garb as Ardashir. Golden in color, the long-sleeved robe was held closed by a red silk sash. Both wore plain, strapless sandals. The only difference between the pair was the brightly colored, feathered headdress worn only by the Shaman, the First.
Ardashir bore the signs of wearing the headdress. It showed mostly around the eyes. They were tired and ready for release. Paiman's face was fresh. His posture, however, revealed a desire to be elsewhere. Ardashir swept his arm across the vista before them.
"By the day's end, Paiman, you will be co-ruler of all this. Yours will be the one constant voice for forty years."
To the south was the broad expanse of Urartu, Koi's capital city. Clean and orderly, it sparkled in the morning light. To the north was the military run Academy of Knowledge where the colonists had trained for the last nine months. Before the two men, nestled on a large island in the middle of the river Majestic, was the spaceport. Pointing up like the three fingers on Ardashir's hand were the colony ships that were about to launch into space carrying the seed of humankind into the stars.