The Adventures of Deacon Coombs (20 page)

“Cocky Earthling,” Chubby said under his breath.

“Before you leave, the Alliance dispatched others before me to find Travers. Have you and Travers briefed anyone else on this tale about Nix and your so-called devil?”

“No.”

The answer surprised Deacon. He took his word at face value, but not without staring him down. “Please leave us.” Chubby delayed and stared at the detective while Deacon relished in this bout of dominance. This was Aralia, light-years from home, and a case of higher authority clearly belonged to him. Chubby eventually broke the glare and departed. “Travers, I will place my trust in you implicitly if you will trust me. To this let us swear before we commence. I will not divulge any information that you impart to me. In return, you swear the same. If you agree, nod your head and hug me in the solemn Aralian custom.”

Travers hesitated for a second, so Deacon said, “I am convinced that there is no other way to the truth. I have calculated the risks, and I am prepared to accept them.” He had other commentary at the ready, but Travers extended his lean, cold, bony hand to shake. Then the little general stood and hugged Deacon tightly in the Aralian trust hug, one arm around the back of Deacon’s neck and the other around his lower waist as Deacon did the same. After signifying their friendship, Deacon moved to position himself across the burning fire from Travers.

“I know of your unusual powers of the mind and that you have the ability to supplant thoughts into others. Did you sway members of the Union of Space Traders to vote for you as their leader?”

Travers pondered his answer, avoiding eye contact, and then he replied, “Shame… fu-fu-fully, yes, I now admit tha… ttttttt I misused my powers to influence members of the union to support me. I d-d-d-d… did not want to. I had to.” Travers sniffled.

Deacon realized that with all their logic, all their myths, these Aralians were sneaky people. He also knew that they did not consider it shameful or embarrassing to weep in public. Rather, to them it was recognized as a display of emotion necessary to survive. Therefore, it was only Deacon who felt uncomfortable as Travers continued to weep upon his confession. To recommence, he asked, “Why?”

“I thu-thu-th… ought that it was I who could res-s-s… store dignity and honor to the traders’ union. It ful… filled a lifelong du-du-dream.”

“Does Chubby know?”

“Yes, and three others.”

“Did you ever wish Como dead? Wish it in your mind?”

“No. He was m-m-m… my hero.”

“When you experience these mental lapses, what do you feel?”

“Deep ancks-s-s… iety. Light-headedness.”

Deacon immediately knew where to venture. “Your father is a doctor, is he not?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever discussed these problems with him?”

“He s-s-s… scorns me.”

“But you are his only son. Can’t you go and beg for help mentally, psychologically, to survive?”

“No. He will not lis… ten to me. The Alliance has tu-tu-tu… turned him against me.”

“Will you attempt to reach your father if I ask you to?”

“No. That door is closed.”

“I want to hear from you about the last trip to Nix.”

Travers slowly recited his dream at length in his mind, taking over an uninterrupted hour while Deacon relaxed and mentally recorded every syllable. Travers did not recall the landing of the ship as such. His initial memories were of wandering about the planet amid rocks and carcasses. The
Sleigher
was vaguely distant to him, its shape on the horizon. Then he recalled the shouts of the natives, savage beasts, their fists shaking at him, their mouths frothing with foam, many throwing down stones and rocks in front of him to block his path.

“It was so dif-if— . . . ficult for me to move about.” He turned the bottoms of his feet upward; numerous chips, deep furrows, and scars dotted the glossy white finish of his underfeet.

He finally found his mates before a group of dancing savages blocked his view. He escaped, only to come upon a group in prayer. The recorder was switched on, and it was this scene that he recorded, of the native firing a modern laser gun. “Fr-fr-frightened, I ran for my life. It was then that I found my crew, allll… lll raving luna… tics.” He shook as he spoke.

It was all vague after that. He dreamed of the savages drooling on him, pressing their horrible, smelly, greasy, matted hair against his white fur. He remembered screaming as a fire lit in his body, the depths of his soul aflame in an inferno, him not knowing entirely what was happening. Then the
Sleigher
docked at Aralia.

“I don’t understand how a ship can be transported across the universe without a Vesper station,” said Deacon.

“Nor I,” said Travers.

“Who is Maretz?”

Travers seemed puzzled. “I do not know Maretz.”

Deacon could not read his mind. It contained undeterminable thoughts. “Travers, I must know the relationship between you and Maretz of Jabu, and the plot you hatched with him.” Travers was silent; his mind empty. “I know not of Maretz.”

Deacon was confused at this development.
Why
do
you
wish
to
return
to
Nix?
Deacon asked without speaking. Travers paused for a minute, but it was obvious that his breathing rate had increased.

“I have told you all th-th-that I know and… d-d-d what have you learned? We, you and-d-d I, we must go to Nix. The power to take a ship is there. The mur-r-r… rderer of Como is there. The devil is-s-s there!”

“The devil. First Chubby and now you. You have seen this… devil?”

Travers froze. His lips trembled. Bolts of fear tore apart Deacon’s mind, the source obviously Travers’s thoughts. The translator could not interpret thoughts, but Deacon did intercept the word
Nix
over and over. Then a dramatic thought surfaced from within Travers. “You would really go there without me?”

“The Uscher p-p-p… power of Earthlings. We have to stop exp-p-p… pending energy by speaking and bat our thoughts back and… d-d-d-d-d forth instead. I don’t stutter in my thoughts. But yes.” Travers increased the volume of his voice and stared back. “I willlll go to Nix without you! I must do this… s-s-s! If you don’t take me with you and your Owlers, I sh-sh-sh-shall make other plans.”

Deacon weighed the odds of whether he would be handicapping himself by taking Travers with him, or if it was a blessing, for a trip with Travers would be the last thing that Landrew or Schlegar would expect. Maybe the last thing that the devil would expect. That was what he had been about to say to Travers earlier, when they were bonding. The path to tough solutions sometimes involves the most unpredictable route. That was the reason to do it—create the unexpected.

Chubby returned, and the first thing that he did was check the health of his dear friend with crude instruments that measured his pulse and bodily functions. Travers hugged Chubby, and as he did so, Deacon admired the caring friendship between the two. When the embrace was released, Deacon confronted them. “I am the only one who can get Travers into the forbidden zone. He has convinced me that we should journey there, but before I commit us to this insane and risky mission, I would like to discuss the arrangements.”

Chubby jumped up and down as his belly bounced. “Delightful, delightful! This will be our best chance to solve the murders of Como and Geor. This is our best chance to prove to the High Alliance Council that the devil himself exists and has invaded our space. This is our best chance to prove Travers’s innocence.”

When Deacon began to speak, he deflated Chubby’s enthusiasm. “There are terms. One: Travers travels with me and the two Owlers and my assistant. Two: I have no obligation to you or the traders’ union to report back to you of my findings on Nix. I will be the sole judge of who receives my official report. I am in the employ of the Alliance, so for certain it will be received by Landrew and perhaps by the trade union, if I deem it appropriate and believe that you will not misuse the data. Three: our meeting here today must not be revealed to the other members of the traders’ union or anyone else. As far as you are concerned, Chubby, from the time that Travers enters my care, you must deny all knowledge of his whereabouts. His life and mine will depend on it. I have had one attempt on my life already, and it is of the utmost importance to keep the whereabouts of Travers and me secretive. My Owlers kill to protect me, and I will issue orders to kill anyone who threatens us. Lastly, you must admit to me right now that the evidence that I uncover may very well incriminate Travers. There still remains the possibility that the periods of blackouts and dreams may represent subconscious criminal acts. Grant all of these terms, or the deal will not transpire.”

A surge of self-confidence swelled in Deacon’s body as he enjoyed the role of titan here on this distant planet. There were uncertainties that had to be clarified before a final commitment to travel to Nix. As he sat down beside the fire, the warmth made him reflect on Lyanna, but the comforting moments that she provided seemed so long ago. Mentally, he screamed a prayer for her, realizing the futility that it would not touch her. Regardless, it had fulfilled a need.

Meanwhile, Deacon bore the brunt of a long, irritating argument in the Aralian dialect that carried on for twenty minutes between Chubby and Travers. Finally the two looked at him. “Mr. Coombs,” said Chubby, “how about taking with you one more voyager, a man who can serve as added protection?”

“I sensed this topic would arise, and the answer is absolutely not. Chubby, you will remain here. I am risking all by taking Travers into my confidence—a gamble that endangers my mission. If the Alliance discovers this, I am doomed, for their trust in me will be shattered. At least I have three other allies who are uninfluenced by emotion.”

Travers and Chubby conferred again, and Deacon witnessed Travers invoke his authority as he pointed his finger at Chubby. This time they ended in agreement. “Okay, I will not journey with you. But Travers knows how to contact me, and you must do this if the journey becomes perilous and you need the help of me or the traders to rescue you.”

Deacon was pleased. “There is another issue on my mind now that the great debate is settled. Please, let’s sit and discuss. The High Council under Geor was preparing a retrial. I have read the transcripts from the initial trial, which deduced that unless new damaging evidence was uncovered it would be impossible to convict Travers. But yet Como spoke to all Aralians of convincing evidence the night that he died. Do you have any idea what Como may have uncovered to publicly announce the premature guilt of Travers? Obviously something that Geor didn’t know, for Geor informed his mate, Geolo, that there was a lack of evidence.”

The two conferred in ancient Aralian, leaving Deacon at a rude disadvantage until he said, “Ahem. You are speaking too fast for the translator to function.”

“I was greatly sur-r-r-r-r… prised,” said Travers, “that the p-p-p… prosecution did not uncover one of the best kept secrets before the fir-r-r… rst trial.”

Secrets revealed

Chubby spoke to Deacon in a whisper. “Over the past few years, the trade union has lost a number of powerful, important, deadly arms shipments.”

“How many?”

“Over thirty.”

Deacon was aghast. “What? Lost—is that what you said? Lost? How? Where?”

“Mostly new-technology laser guns, some long-range neutron bombs, a few photon-dextron bombs, caches of small, handheld laser arms, and molecular disruptors—the kind that can go undetected.”

Deacon didn’t know what to say for a moment. Finally he said, “And these are the very same weapons shipments that the Alliance believes the traders’ union has sold to subversive groups and rebel causes?”

As Chubby nodded in affirmation, Deacon probed Travers to feel a blast of deep guilt. Chubby was adamant. “These shipments were not traded or sold to subversives, as the Alliance would have you believe. Rather, they just disappeared without a trace. The traders’ union has done everything, examined every possible lead, to locate these arms. It is obvious to us that a conspiracy has evolved within the union to facilitate these crimes. Geor’s son was killed while investigating these stolen arms as an undercover member of the security division. Accordingly, Geor held Travers responsible for his death because it was most likely one of our traders who murdered him. The truth, Mister Coombs, is that whoever stole these shipments had Geor’s son murdered. Como discovered this fact recently, that these arms shipments were missing, and informed Travers and me that the traders would be further investigated. In a brief meeting that Travers and I had with him, before the last voyage of the
Sleigher
, Como turned against us completely.”

“So Geor’s son made an important discovery about the shipments or was closing in on the truth? That’s why he was killed?”

“Yes, at least that is what Travers and I firmly believe. He had the reputation of being a very thorough investigator. Also, he sent a message to Travers before he died indicating that we had serious conspirators inside our union, although the arms were not referenced in the document.”

Deacon turned to Travers. “While on Nix, did you see any of these stolen shipments?”

“No and yes. The hand weapon that the savage f-f-f-f… fired probably was… s-s-s in the shipment. We have the serial num-m-m-m… bers of all the weapons, so we can identify them if we find them.”

Chubby spoke up again. “Some have remote locating devices embedded in them. Now you see the importance of Nix. It could be that the savages found the caches. I think an exhaustive search on Nix is in order for Travers, and we believe the weapons cache is there.”

“Help me, Chubby, to understand something. These powerful weapons you described are tightly monitored in the hands of local security forces and Alliance forces. They are manufactured at tightly secured plants. Why didn’t the Alliance transport these weapons to their new owners? Why didn’t the new owners pick them up at the plant? Why did the trade union do this?”