Cain's Crusaders (24 page)

“I understand. But then we must hurry.”

“My adjutant will be accompanying us. It is a female, and Armplanese females are not normally allowed to be viewed by offworlders. Will you please show her respect by not viewing her?”

The young Formilian frowned. “I will oblige, however I find that such behavior would be a deterrent to her performance of her duties on Formil. I must say, your command did not properly plan for this mission.”

Damn, the kid’s not only incredibly handsome he’s also smart as a whip.

“You are correct, young Formilian,” Adam quickly agreed. “I can tell your skills go far beyond those of a mere transport driver.”

The Formilian frowned again; had Adam said something wrong? “I am Ryfor O’yn Rey, a ninth-degree Celebrant, attached to the personal security detail of Speaker Arieel Bol. I have taken this assignment because I feel it important that as many forces protect the Speaker as can be mustered. I will myself be standing at the entrance to the Temple at the time of the ceremony, prepared to die to preserve the life of Arieel Bol.”

“Very commendable, young Celebrant and I apologize if I insulted your position. I will now summon my adjutant so we may proceed.”

A simple hand gesture brought Arieel down the ramp from the Armplanese ship. She also wore a military uniform, although they had cut off nearly two feet of the pant legs to accommodate her shorter stature. She wore a cap as well, yet had also placed a scarf of matching color over her face, leaving only her eyes showing.

With respect, the young Formilian did not look Arieel’s way, but instead boarded the vehicle and allowed Adam and Arieel to slide into the seat directly behind him. With a large troop carrier behind, the cab did not have a rearview mirror, so Arieel was able to avoid scrutiny as the transport made the short journey from the spaceport, through the gates of the compound and into the very heart of the Temple Complex.

There was forty-two minutes left until the start of the ceremony. Adam smiled. That would be plenty of time; they had made it.

The large transport lumbered through the narrow streets of the ancient Temple Complex, its path hindered by the mass of people crowding the area. Most appeared to security personnel of some sort, while hundreds, if not thousands wore the ugly mustard colored robes of the Order. Adam wondered how any semblance of protection could be afforded Arieel in such a confused mess? Any one of these thousands of creatures could be a killer. Even Adam still wore an MK-17 around his waist; the young Celebrant not even bothering with a cursory search for weapons or explosives. Was it the same for all these other creatures?

Once they entered the vast plaza facing the ornate, six-story façade of the Temple itself, they found the going to be even slower. Literally thousands of people were packed into the plaza awaiting the Rites Ceremony. The way Arieel had described it, the monthly ritual was fairly routine and not very-well attended, yet not this one, apparently. Were these all devote worshipers, intent on seeing if their demi-god would survive her trials, or were they simply gawkers hoping to see a spectacle? Whatever the reason, today was shaping up to be the event of the season.

“I will be unable to get near the entrance of the Temple with the transport,” Ryfor announced from the front seat. “I will take us around to the back, where I have reserved a location.”

Adam nodded his agreement. Entering the Temple from the rear would be much easier than through the front doors, and better hidden.

The transport soon left the loud and barely manageable throng of creatures in the plaza and followed a narrow cobblestone road along the side of the towering building. Armed security personnel, all Formilians, lined the street, each cradling Xan-fi flash rifles and watching them pass with suspicious scrutiny. Around the back of the Temple was your typical behind-the-scene letdown, a large parking area, with simple wooden huts where security troops were dispatched and supervisors sat with cups of coffee in their hands – or whatever passed for coffee on Formil.

Ryfor pulled the transport into a wide space between two other large trucks at the far end of the parking lot next to a protruding arm of the Temple. Only a few additional guards were around and Adam was beginning to feel very optimistic of their chances. They only had thirty minutes or so before the ceremony, yet here they were, just outside the Temple building.

Ryfor jumped out of the cab and then opened the door for Adam and Arieel to climb out. Even though the parking space was wide, Ryfor had crowded a truck to their right, so Arieel had to shuffle over and exit out the left side of the truck right behind Adam.

Adam turned and helped her down, and the moment her feet hit the cobblestone ground, her body collapsed against his. Adam held her with both arms, seeing her eyes close, her mouth falling slack. He twisted his head around quickly and found Ryfor standing a few feet away. “Help me …” But then Adam saw the tiny dart gun held in Ryfor’s hand. The thin barrel was now aimed at him.

Anger surged up in Adam and he took a step toward the Formilian with Arieel still held in his arms. He had no idea if the tranquilizer dart would work on him, but he was willing to take the chance.

Just then three other Formilian swarmed over him, pulling Arieel away and grabbing his arms. In spite of their size and bulging muscles, the grip of the Formilians on his arms felt weak and unsubstantial. But still Ryfor had the dart gun.

The young Celebrant stepped closer to Adam, displaying a thin smile. “Yes, I knew it was you,” Ryfor said smugly. “When a ship without prior clearance lands just before the beginning of the ceremony, I grew suspicious. But then when only two of you emerge, a male and female, it was so obvious as to insult my intelligence. Did you honestly believe I would not recognize my own Speaker? Even without seeing her I could smell her scent and surmise her form.”

“You’re going to kill your own god?” Adam asked between clinched jaws. “You’re a Celebrant; you worship her.”

“Indeed I do, Mr. Cain. And I assure you,
I
will not kill her.”

Adam’s heart leapt. Was Ryfor really an ally?

“Then you will get her to the Throne Room?”

“Of course not, Mr. Cain, I was the one who originally assisted in her abduction. I am also the one who revealed to The Ma-Jor the existence of the explosive within her body. Only certain Celebrants know of this – the higher ranking … and her security personnel.”

“So you’re going let her explode? That’s still killing her, you moron!”

“I was not the one who placed the device within her body, so I do not bear the full responsibility.” He motioned with his head and the entourage moved out, entering the building through a set of double doors. They moved quickly down a deserted corridor lined with walls of solid stone until Ryfor opened another door and motioned them all inside.

It was a rectory of some sort, complete with a modest bed and work table where one of the Celebrants of the Order would have stayed. Arieel was placed gently on the bed by one of the other Formilians while the other two guarding Adam pulled MK-17’s. With Arieel unconscious, the weapons could prove lethal if set at level-one.

“So what, now we just wait?”

Ryfor smiled again. “Not
we,
Mr. Cain. Even though the explosive is small, it is still substantial enough to sustain considerable damage within a radius of fifty feet more. Its creators wanted to be sure to kill any around the Speaker who might be holding her against her will, as sort of revenge. As I said, I will be standing guard outside the Temple entrance when the explosion occurs.”

Adam was confused. What would become of him?

Just then Ryfor fired the dart gun again. The sharp projectile penetrated the skin of Adam’s chest and discharged it potent contents. Almost immediately, Adam began to grow weak and his vision blurry. He tumbled to the floor, his arms and legs now feeling numb and useless.

Ryfor knelt next to him and pulled his head up by the chin to look into Adam’s eyes, even as they flickered with the last vestiges of vision. “Your spirit will have the honor of mingling with that of the Speaker, Mr. Cain. For that I envy you. I have been in love with Arieel since I was very young, however, I will suppress my sorrow with the knowledge that I, and my colleagues here, will now share in the thirty-million credits you have so impressively made available to us. I did not hold out any promise that you would make it this far, and yet you did. Well done, Mr. Cain. Well done.”

Ryfor then let Adam’s head fall back as his entire body now lay prone on the floor, his eyes closed … a the cold blanket of death now covering him.

Chapter 17

W
hen the greyness began to lift from Adam mind, memories suddenly rushed in, followed by confusion. He remembered taking a tranquilizer dart in the chest and then falling to the floor. He also knew that Arieel lay near him, unconscious, and that there had only been twenty minutes or so before her body would explode.

If she had exploded, would he still be able to have these thoughts? Was this an afterlife of some kind, where his consciousness simply continued where his mortal life left off? Or was there still time?

He fought hard to open his eyes, and could feel sensation returning to this arms and legs. His eyes flickered open and he found he was staring up at the ceiling of the rectory, a plaster-over-stone structure with patterns of various leaves in relief.

He was still alive, and that meant so was Arieel. Chalk another one up for superior Human physiology. Apparently the tranquilizer in the dart wasn’t strong enough to keep Adam out for very long.

He struggled to roll to his right, and from there he could see the low-lying bed with a small figure dressed in an ill-fitting grey jumpsuit resting peacefully. He pulled with his arms, dragging his body to the edge of the bed, and then with rubber legs pushed and pulled until he had reached the top.

As his body fell heavily on the smaller figure, Adam could hear a slight moan forced from Arieel lips. Feeling and strength was now gaining rapidly in his body and his superman physiology fought to overcome the effects of the drug. He propped himself on one elbow and used his other hand to slap Arieel gently on the cheek.

“Arieel, wake up!” he cried out. He slapped her again, harder. This time her eyes lids closed a little tighter and her head shook. One more slap and Arieel’s eyes began to flutter open.

“Wake up, god-dammit!” Adam yelled. He could now feel most of his body and so he sat up on the bed and grabbed Arieel by the shoulders. He shook her violently. “Wake up! Wake up!”

Arieel’s eyes began to show signs of recognition, as trails of saliva flowed down her chin. “Adam?” she said weakly. “Are you now with my spirit energy?”

“No, but that could happen at any time. Get up; we still have time to get you to the Throne Room.”

She let out a long sigh and then closed her eyes again. “I wish to join my mothers among the essence. You go without me.”

“Hell no!” Adam said, now struggling to lift her inert body off the bed. Normally, this would not have been a problem, but in his drugged state, she felt as heavy as an elephant. “I not leaving you! We’re going to the Throne Room – now!”

His strength was increasing by the second and soon he had her off the bed and in his arms. He fell against the wall next to the rectory door and then regained his balance. Holding Arieel against the door, he felt with his hand for the latch and pulled it open. He stepped out into the stone corridor, one of many throughout the Temple. He had no idea where to go.

Propping Arieel’s head up with his right arm, he shook her awake again. She frowned hard, but her eyes opened. “Where is the Throne Room from here?”

“Where is here?” Arieel asked through her stupor. Adam had no answer. But then he noticed a marker above a door across the corridor from the rectory. It was in Formilian writing – of which he had no idea how to read – but above it was a symbol, a triangle.

Adam turned Arieel so she could see the symbol. “Oh,” she called out, almost drunk in her manners. “We are in the Celebrant quarters. Scandalous!”

“Where is the Throne Room from here?”

“Don’t you know?”

“No I don’t. Please concentrate. Where is the Throne Room from here?”

“Down there,” she said, her right arm now flailing away, indicating to Adam’s left. He took off running.

Arieel’s eyes grew wide and smile crossed her face. “This is fun, like riding a downing steed,” she said. “Run my steed! Run!”

Adam soon came to another long and wider corridor connecting on his right. “Through here, is this the way to the Throne Room?”

“Yes, my steed. Down there at your fastest gait.”

Adam obeyed, running as fast as he could, while still wobbling from one side of the corridor to the other as he went as the effects of the drug still lingered. The hallway was long, with many offshoots, any of which could be the entrance to the Throne Room.

“Oh … you passed it,” Arieel said, trying to crawl into his back and pointing. He turned around and approached the wide double doorway made of heavy wood of some kind.

“Here? This is the Throne Room?”

“Yes Adam Cain – my hero.” Arieel’s brow suddenly furrowed. “My head hurts.”

“We’re almost there, Arieel. We’re going to make it.”

Adam kicked at the door, surprised that only one swift kick was all it took to force open the massive doors. Beyond was a vast chamber lined with towering columns of polished stone and a ceiling easily fifty feet above. The room was full of beings, many dressed in mustard yellow, others in suits or flowing robes.

A hush fell over the room as the doors came crashing open and all eyes fell on Adam holding Arieel in his arms. This was not the main entrance to the Throne Room, but a side entrance. And there, off to his left, he saw the throne, an elevated chair sitting on a series of stone blocks. He took off for it.

To his surprise, many of the mustard-garbed Celebrants began to scream and pull on the other non-Order dignitaries, leading them away from Adam and Arieel. Soon a mad panic ensued, as the crowd rushed for the exit at the opposite end of the room from the throne.

Adam didn’t care, he had the throne in his sights and that was all that mattered.

And then he spotted it. On the wall to his right was a digital clock, looking out of place in the medieval look of the rest of the Temple. It was a simple device, with only a single row of white numbers on a black background.

And the number read six, then five, then four….

The throne was still fifty feet away or more. Three …, two….

He wasn’t going to make it. Adam slid to his knees and pulled Arieel close. “You didn’t leave,” he heard her whisper in his ear.

And then he closed his own eyes tight.

One…, zero….

Then nothing….

Adam opened his eyes again and looked at the clock. It had reset to a new twenty-eight day cycle. And yet they were both still alive.

Arieel was now coming more to her senses. She stretched her neck until she, too, could see the clock. Adam spun her around until she had a more comfortable vantage point.

The two of them watched the clock wind down another five full minutes before saying anything. Then Arieel looked in his eyes, a dreamy, soft look. “You could have left me and run to safety. Why didn’t you?”

Thinking that this was something out of a sappy chick flick, Adam just smiled. “We’ve come this far, my Lady. I couldn’t leave you alone now.”

Then Arieel’s eyes grew wide. “And still we live!”

“That’s the conclusion I came to as well,” he said.

And then Arieel grasped his head by her arms and kissed him passionately. He didn’t know what it was – either the fullness of her lips or that thing she could do with static electricity – but Adam truly felt sparks fly as she pressed her lips against his. They held the kiss for what seemed like an eternity until finally they broke and came up for air.

“So what happened – or more appropriately – what didn’t happen?”

“I’ll answer that!”

Adam and Arieel were both so exhausted and overwhelmed with the entire event that neither one was startled as the other person in the room spoke. It was the High Celebrant Convor Ton’al Ona, Arieel’s father, standing near the throne, his arm resting on one of its ornate sides.

Adam rose to his feet and helped Arieel stand. Her legs were stronger now, the effects of the tranquilizer now nearly completely gone. She did her best to run to Convor, but instead approached at a brisk, yet drunken-like walk. Convor moved to meet her.

Father and daughter embraced at the front of the throne, tears flowing down both their cheeks. Adam held back a respectful distance until Convor took notice of him and motioned for him to come near.

He shook Adam’s hand emphatically. “Thank you so very much, Mr. Cain for returning my daughter – our Speaker – to us. It has been a truly amazing feat which you have accomplished.”

“Thank you, Celebrant,” Adam said, a frown now plastered on his face. “But what happened? Why didn’t she explode? Was just being in the Throne Room enough to deactivate the bomb?”

“Oh no, Mr. Cain, it was not – is not,” Convor said. “In truth, we should get you up here Arieel so as to perform the ritual.”

Convor helped Arieel’s still uncertain legs climb the three steps to the throne. She sat down, looking confused at her father.

“Is there a bomb or not?” she asked, anger beginning to grow in her tone.

“Yes, there is, my Speaker. That part is true. What has varied is the time at which the bomb is set to explode.”

Adam stepped closer to Convor, his own anger growing by the second. “What do you mean? When was the bomb scheduled to explode?”

“All official Order records of the device indicate it is to explode at exactly the moment of the Rites Ceremony. Yet only the very highest of the Order know that there is in reality a
six hour delay
built into the program.”

“You mean we had another six hours to get here?” Adam was livid. He pulled back to strike Convor but then hesitated. He knew that in the past he had been able to drive his fist completely through the skulls of various aliens, and killing the High Celebrant – and Arieel’s father – would certainly not go over very well, especially not right in the middle of their most-sacred Temple.

“That is correct, Mr. Cain. There is an additional six hours attached to the deadline.”

“Why?” Arieel asked.

“So what just happened can be allowed to happen,” Convor said, with a sparkle in his eye.

“You’re losing me, Convor. Stop playing games and just spit it out.”

Convor and Arieel both frowned at him as the translator fought to find the right context for his words. Finally, Convor nodded. “If everyone believes the device will explode at a certain time, then all who know of this will clear the area prior to the detonation, leaving Arieel, and all the prior Speakers, alone … and with an opportunity to escape. Even the dead body of the Speaker would still explode at the given time, so killing her to prevent the detonation would not work. And, of course, the device is tamper proof. No, the only way to prevent a detonation is to place the Speaker upon the Throne at the time of the Rites Ceremony – or in this case – within six hours of the ceremony. Then the device resets. Because those who meant you harm, my daughter, believed the device would go off at the known time, they left you and Mr. Cain alone, allowing you both to escape. I would say the creators of the device, over two thousand years before, have planned well for this very event.”