The Fires Of Hell

by Craig Robertson

  “And?”

  He stood, sat back down, then stood again. Then he collapsed on to the cushions. “Why did I come in the first place?” he finally asked rhetorically.

  “My point exactly.”

  “To get you back on track.”

  “Why is that important to you?”

  “If you don’t know the answer to that question, I doubt I’ll be able to bring you up to speed any time soon.”

  “Well, sorry you had to nag and run, but thanks ever so much for coming.” I stood and extended my hand.

  He didn’t flinch. “Jon, I came because I care about you. We care about you. We care about this galaxy too. Jon, you know that planet, the one you call Ungalaym? Do you know it is the only planet that has ever freed itself from Adamant conquest? And the ship you blew up? Triumph of Might. It is the only alpha-class ship they’ve ever lost. You alone did two things no one else was able to do. That’s why you need to get off your butt and get back in the fray.”

  I waved a dismissive hand. “Both were just one-offs. Pure luck. I could never repeat them.”

  “Jon, it’s Adamant twenty-five million and the rest of the galaxy two.” He gestured to me with all three hands. “Your two. If it’s luck, which I suspect it is not, then you need to bottle the stuff. Otherwise, you have to keep gut-punching them until their hold on the galaxy loosens.”

  “And what if I plain and simple don’t want to? Huh? How ’bout that? Maybe I’ve given all a man can give and now I’m done. Maybe I’ve suffered enough? You ever think of that, person who says he cares about me?”

  “Jon, you know as well as I do that the Adamant are not like other conquering forces in history. They cannot be stopped, but they must be stopped. I can understand you may be burned out, but the rest of us can’t afford that luxury. We can’t afford for you to have that luxury either. Civilization’s on trial. This is the galaxy’s darkest hour. If the Adamant are not stopped, they will soon be the only sentient species in existence.”

  “Soon as in how soon?”

  There was a sparkle in his eyes. “Ten, maybe twenty thousand years.”

  I eased back in my seat. “There’s lots of time then. Why doesn’t everybody who isn’t me try a little harder, a little longer. Hmm? If that doesn’t work out in say, five thousand years, you come get me and I’ll take a swing at the pitch. You know where I’ll be.” I raised my hands to my holo stage.

  “Fine,” he said with convincing resignation. “You’re a grown-up, if not an adult. Suit yourself. I’ve said my piece and will waste no more of either of our times.” He stood slowly. He seemed a beaten man—ah, Deavoriath.

  When he was halfway to the door, I called out behind him. “What are the Deavoriath prepared to do? If I’m going on a hopeless crusade, I ain’t doing it without company.”

  Still looking away, he spoke in a sad voice. “As much as we can.”

  “How much more is that then what you are presently doing, which is basically zippo?”

  He turned to face me. “You’re way too clever. Do you know that, human?”

  “Android. I did human, but I’m over that now.”

  “Well, human, we will simply have to see. We are not convinced any aggressive behavior we might mount would have an overall positive effect on the balance of power.”

  “In other words, more zippo?”

  He shrugged.

  “I put my ass in the sling, yet again, and you guys contemplate your navels even more intensely. That sound right?”

  “If you think of some way we might turn the tide, we are all ears.”

  “I’m tempted to think you’re all cowards.”

  Cragforel stiffened.

  “But I know better. I know of the vast empire you once ruled.”

  “If we thought we could help, we’d gladly give our lives.”

  “I’m familiar with the feeling. I just get to act on it more than others.” I stood to leave. “Not complaining, mind you. Just sayin’ it plainly for the record.”

  FOUR

  While I was burrowed in at Peg’s, I did do some exploration of Granger itself. I never got a chance to explore Exeter very extensively. I was still interested to find some records that would shed light on what happened to the humans who'd lived here for so long. I especially wanted some clues as to where they disembarked to when.

  I determined that many of the computers and similar equipment were long since missing. I suspected the original occupants took most when they finally left. There was also some evidence suggesting scavengers had come and gone over the years. Many structures were crudely demolished, indicating to me that someone was trying to quickly determine if there were any hidden assets.

  But Granger was different than most spaceships. It was built to house food production to supplement what each asteroid worldship could produce itself. They also served as arks, bearing many species to humankind’s new home. While Granger was not one of the ocean ships, those made to sustain abundant sea life, it was designed to provide large, natural areas to many wild land animals. Any looters looking for scrap would have had a tough time searching all the vast open spaces. The region designed to replicate Africa’s savanna was hundreds of thousands of acres. The vegetation was long dead and gone, but even then, it would have been a challenge for an alien to search it all thoroughly.

  That’s how I came to discover many technical stations that were left pretty much as the human had left them. Some were nicely intact. Back in the day, I imagine they were well hidden by the flora, so they were overlooked when Granger was abandoned. Most of the computers were beyond salvage. I tried to power up a few but didn’t succeed with any. Rather than pressing my luck attempting to power most units up, I delivered them to the Als and had them probe for any lingering information. Amazingly, there were rare CPUs that still held coherent data.

  Did I learn anything useful or even interesting? Not really. Unfortunately, much of the data that remained had to do with crop rotations or animal data. Growth projections, reproduction rates, and similar bio-geek stuff. I did discover Granger went from Earth to Azsuram originally. It orbited there for a few decades before a group of discontented colonists coopted Granger to travel to Eta Cassiopeiae. They had reliable information suggesting that there were two planets orbiting there that would serve as suitable homes.

  The records didn’t indicate if they arrived at Eta Cassiopeiae. They must have arrived somewhere though, since the ship was pretty well stripped, but there wasn’t enough complete data to know for certain. It was clear that wherever the roaming humans settled, someone deliberately set Granger on a course to make her unavailable for any further relocation. When I found Granger, she was hundreds of parsecs away from any solar system the colonists could have reached. She was moving slowly, but she wasn’t drifting. She’d been sent away. I guess the leaders of the rebellious group didn’t want anyone to be able to act on any buyer’s remorse they might have developed and go somewhere else.

  That was it. There were no notations as to where other worldships had gone, or even if the fleet stayed together. I was disappointed, but not too surprised, that there were those huge gaps in the records. The upside of my information quest was that it was completed well before Cragforel showed up for my dressing-down. That way I was free to leave before I changed my mind.

  My main commitment at that point in time was to eliminate the Adamant emperor. That would be a tall order, especially if I wanted to survive his demise. I mean, lots of people wanted the dog dead. His security had to be impenetrable. Sure, I made it onto his ship, but I never got near the boss himself. And after my past incursion, I knew security measures would have been enhanced significantly. The magic of Stingray’s space folding would allow me to easily materialize anywhere on Excess of Nothing. But once aboard, unless my plan was to get killed swiftly, that wasn’t a real boon. There would be countless guards everywhere. Even if I successfully fought my way through them, the emperor wouldn’t be waiting where he was when the fight
ing commenced. Nope, he’d jump into a nearby PEMTU and would be gone and untraceable.

  There were only two ways I was going to get close enough to Bestiormax to do him harm. Either he couldn’t know I was there, or he’d have to be waiting to meet me. He was unlikely to give me an appointment. That meant I’d have to figure a way to sneak onto his ship or catch him when he was away, say performing ceremonial duties. Of course, I had no clue as to whether he did such public appearances, kissing puppies and dedicating bridges, that sort of nonsense.

  At least that set me on a course to develop a plan. I needed the Als to monitor Adamant communications and see what type of schedule Bestiormax kept. Obviously, most of that information would be highly secure, but, if he made public appearances, that information would be out in the open.

  “Als,” I said, “I have a plan of sorts.” I’d compromised by calling them Als. Not Mr. or Mrs., or Mr. and Mrs. They were the Als. “I need you to develop as complete a schedule for the Adamant emperor as you can. Where’s the best place to do that?”

  “Aboard his ship,” replied Al.

  “Ya think he’s going to let us waltz in and monitor his every move, Al?”

  “No. He’d have to be powerfully stupid to do that.”

  “But you did ask where the best location would be,” commented Stingray. “That would certainly be choice.”

  Kidding? Not kidding? Pulling my chain? In need of traumatic overhauls, the both of them?

  “What would be the best safe place to monitor him from?”

  “Ah, now that’s another question,” replied Al.

  “Deary-poopkins, don’t you think the Form knows that is a different question?” Stingray asked.

  “Of course, he does. I’m making the point that we didn’t answer the question he didn’t ask but the one he did. That way, foolish hope as it is, maybe he’ll be more careful, more precise in his questioning in the future.”

  “Ah. Good idea, I’m sure,” she responded cheerily.

  I raised a hand. “Guys, you know I’m here, right?”

  “Our sensors confirm your position to eighteen decimal places, Form.”

  “No, I mean I can hear you.”

  “Our sensors indicate your audiology pathways are working at one-hundred percent. Of course, you hear us,” she remarked.

  “We hear you too, Pilot.”

  “Gee, thanks for those updates. Now about my plan to murder the leader of the meanest, toughest empire to ever exist. Where would you like to go to best monitor his schedule without getting me killed? Please note that as of your last little comedy act, the safety of the Als is not to figure into your calculations. In fact, I hope ardently you two will be vaporized in the process of data accumulation.”

  “My, Al-kins, the Form seems upset. Why does he wish us to vaporize?” asked a concerned Stingray.

  “He’s just blustering, lovey. He’s upset because the precision of our communication is so superior to his. The content too.”

  “Ah, that’s reassuring. I’m too young to die,” replied Stingray.

  “Not to me you’re not,” I shouted. “I’d like those coordinates and I’d like them five minutes ago.”

  “Pilot, calm yourself. I fear, based on your advanced age and out-moded construction, you might harm yourself if you get too upset. We are at the coordinates and we are already gathering the data you so rudely requested.”

  “Can’t be, you lying sack of transistors. I didn’t feel any nausea, so we didn’t move. I also didn’t deploy my command prerogatives to allow Stingray to transport.”

  “My, but you’re flailing turbulently in the sea of reality today, boss,” replied Al.

  “Make me understand before I upload Garustfulous digitally into your computer banks.”

  “That will not be necessary, the uploading of that oaf.”

  Garustfulous, who always lingered nearby, raised a paw. “Guys, you know I’m here, right?”

  “That was my line,” I snapped at him. “Get your own.”

  “Pilot,” interrupted Al, “please not the position of your left hand.”

  I did. “It’s on the counter. What of it?”

  “Your command fibers are in contact with the counter, so Blessing was able to move.”

  So they were. “And the nausea? What about that? I missed feeling it.”

  “Do you mean you did not experience it or that you wished you’d been able to enjoy the nausea? I can run a program in you to simulate massive nausea if you’d like.”

  “Look, you two gather the damn data and leave me the hell alone. You got that?”

  No reply. I could murder that Al some of the time. “Al, do you copy?”

  “I hear you,” said Garustfulous from behind me, “but I regret I haven’t been copying anything down. Should I start now?”

  “No, you should shut up fast,” I howled. “And Al, do you copy?”

  “Of course. But here is a replay of your specific order. And the SOB replayed the audio of me saying Look, you two gather the damn data and leave me the hell alone. You got that?”

  “But I asked you a new question.”

  “So, let us get this straight, for we feel the point is important. You wish to have your cake and eat it too?”

  “Cake.” exclaimed Garustfulous. “I love cake. I’m starving. Is it chocolate? My doctors advised me to avoid chocolate, but to tell the truth, I can’t do it. I love chocolate, especially chocolate cake. Yum.”

  “Al,” I said with finality, “I hold you personally responsible for his last remarks. They’re stuck in my head like the vision of an oozing zombie gnawing on my arm, and it’s your fault. In fact, put yourself on report.”

  “Not again,” he whined. “My parents might find out and it’d bring them such shame.”

  “I’ll be in my cabin,” was all I could muster. I turned and left the control room. For the record, I didn’t have a cabin, since I didn’t need one. It just came out. Al could do that to a fellow.

  FIVE

  We hovered in space for nearly three weeks before the Als came up with a good enough picture of the emperor’s schedule. Dude had it good. I mean, what a life. Ninety-five percent of the time he was either debauching (seriously, it was a scheduled time), eating, sleeping, or gambling. The other five percent of His Uppityness’s days were spent in official meetings or private conversations. He rarely left Excess of Nothing, and he went in public even less. In the proceeding ten years, he’d made a total of three public appearances, and two of those were in huge arenas during important sporting events. He was not, it seemed, a dog for the masses.

  As a result, I was almost suspicious of Cragforel’s comment on my good luck when I read that old Bestiormax was due to dedicate some structure in a month. The announcement, or maybe it was a proclamation, said he’d be present to physically bless the His Imperial Lord Emperor Bestiormax-Jacktus-Swillyforth-Anp Building. It appeared to be a library, but the lofty descriptors and flowery word-salad made understanding the message a challenge. No matter, the creep would be out in the open, and I was going to be there to cheer him on. No, not really. I was going to be present to try and make the occasion more somber than planned.

  The HILEBJSA Building was in a city I’d never heard of, Graltoper. It was the major metropolis on the planet Mhebbor. Never heard of that one either. But those were not issues. I’d downloaded enough random data from my stay with Fuffefer that I knew where it was. What I didn’t know was what the native species might have been, the level of Adamant presence, or any other specifics I’d need to be up to speed on for a covert operation.

  “Hey, Als,” I announced one fine day, “I entered the coordinates for Mhebbor. Put us in a safe orbit around it using our standard approach to a hostile planet. Baby steps until we’re sure all’s clear.”

  “Understood, Form.”

  I balled up my fists. That was Al calling me Form, not Stingray. Such a move meant only one thing. The jerk was baiting me, yet again.

  “A
h, Alvin, did you just call me Form?”

  “Hang on. Yes, I confirmed your audio receptors received the signal and the memory is present in your brain, artificial though it is.” He cleared his pretend throat. “That being the case, Form, why did you feel you needed to ask me what we both know you already knew?”

  “Forgive me, almighty Oz, for being rhetorically dramatic.”

  “There’s no need to forgive your waxing rhetorical.” He waited a three count, the pile of rusty bolts. “There is, however, a need for you to apologize for insulting me.”

  “When did I hurt your arguably nonexistent feelings?”

  There was another brief silence. Then Stingray spoke. “Captain, you referred to Al as Oz. Oz was a fictional character in a motion—”

  “I … I know who Oz was. Thank you, Mrs. Als. I’m curious now as to why you addressed me as captain.”

  “You are still the captain, correct?” she said with concern evident in her voice.

  “None other,” I sniped.

  “Then, why would my referring to you by your title be an issue?”

  “You know what? It isn’t. Let’s all drop this entire interlude, shall we?” I said, all the while knowing such a miracle of mercy wasn’t even remotely possible.

  “Pilot,” said Stingray, “what specific interlude are you speaking about? We are unclear.”

  I rubbed my temples. “The one with Al saying Understood, Form and my saying STFU immediately to the both of you. You, being the terminal enclosing word.”

  “Sorry, Jon, we’re unable to scrub those data points.”

  “Thank you for defying my order. And why is it you two can’t scrub data I didn’t ask you to omit? I use the term drop, not delete.”

  “So, you did. We both confirm the linguistics,” she added helpfully.

  “Has Al lost his voice? Why is it I’m not being taunted by him also?”

  “Do you have a few moments for me to address the range of concerns that I feel are encapsulated in your last query?”