The Adventures of Deacon Coombs (57 page)

Chubby’s face flushed. “Because, my dear friend, I did as you commanded me. I checked the logs of the ships traveling to Aralia so that I might flee there on one to intercept the
H’vington
, so Jim could drive the
Heritage
to Earth to save time. I am distressed.”

“Take a deep breath, Chubby, and tell me what’s happening.”

“There is a ship bound from Aralia, and she will be here in four Earth hours. She’s Vespering directly in. In the meantime, I suggest that you and Nedilli, Xudur, the Owlers, Schlegar, the
Heritage
, and the
G’uillger
get out of here! Now! You see, she’s coming here, Deacon! The
H’vington
! The
H’vington
with Urzel Lok on board.”

Deacon felt a shiver.

On the
H’vington

Lookey

Chubby inserted large lenses over his eyes to exaggerate the pupils, hiding the edges just inside his eyelids. The effect changed his eye color to green as well.

Then, sadly, he took a chisel and fiercely slammed it against the beautiful, smooth inner bone of his left foot. Then he smeared brown dye on the roots of his white chest hair to advance his apparent age as an Aralian.

Disinclined to continue, he thought about his mission and opened his medical bag. From it he extracted bandages and wrapped them tightly around his left knee. He practiced the painful hobble that he would fake. Then, with a sorrowful sigh, he shaved a spot under his left armpit and another over his left shoulder, adding a chemical to each spot to present the illusion of a scar with a purple glow.

Finally, he practiced his Yoobian accent, typical of residents of the South Polar Region on Aralia. He decided to leave his hair over his pot belly. When finished, he hobbled to Deacon’s quarters. “Aye mate. Where’s go ya?” He said when he reached the doorway.

Deacon grinned as Chubby entered. “Green eyes, brown hair, scars, chipped heel, Yoobian accent, burn marks under the arm, gimpy leg. I don’t believe that we have met before.”

Chubby extended his hand. “Lookey’s me name. Tradin’s me game.”

Gem emerged from Deacon’s inner quarters to say, “Don’t be fooled, Master. My monitor readings say that this being is Chubby Eaves.”

Chubby grimaced. “Damn smart Owlers.”

“Lucky for you, Lookey, that this Owler will not be on the
H’vington
to give you away. I gather that you have played the role of Lookey before?”

“I have played him many times, as required to proceed underground to spy for the traders’ union. Why, this character is one of me favorites, the rowdy, innocent, fun-loving Lookey! He is a guaranteed snoop!”

“Papers, please?”

“Sure, I will be happy to present my papers to you.” Lookey extracted from under his coat a bundled mess of faded yellow and passed it to Deacon.

Deacon was amazed. Lookey had traveled to Circula, Tritaa’ad, Earth, Jabu, Globiana, and twenty more moons, planets, and space stations. “Lookey seems to have been a busy spy. You Aralians are first-class deceivers.” Deacon eyed him. “Scars.”

“They’ll come out with the right dye.”

“Green eyes.”

“Ah, the ladies love Aralians with green eyes.”

“Chip in foot.”

“I’ll fill it in when I’m finished with the role; knock it out when it’s time to play Lookey again.”

“Missing hair.”

“It will grow back.”

“What? Not according to the Aralian biology books I have read.”

“That’s a myth.” He smiled back.

“What? Is there no end to Aralian deception?”

“Oh, it is in the books that I read, too, but my hair grows back. Lookey can’t speak for other Aralians, only fer himself. It is and was the old guard, like Como and Schlegar, who believe in those fantastic yarns.”

“Travers was missing hair.”

“He shaved that same spot regularly when he wanted to be identified. My old friend, Travers, this effort I give is for you. How I miss him in times like these. What else do I need to know about this plan?”

Deacon returned Chubby’s identification to him. “Given that your papers are accepted, you will be on the
H’vington
. Before her arrival, we will contact Falthorpe, asking him to spread the word among Medullans that Nedilli journeys to Earth to visit her dying son.

“To ensure that Urzel becomes aware of Nedilli’s trip, you must spread the rumor on the
H’vington
of how you overheard that a Medullan named Nedilli journeys to Earth. Don’t be overanxious to disseminate the story. Give the rumor a few days to percolate, maybe even a Vesper or two. If Urzel takes the bait, we will need confirmation from you that Urzel still inhabits chamber fifteen, as always. If Urzel remains on board in chamber fifteen, send no message; if he isn’t on the
H’vington
, or Urzel is in a chamber other than fifteen, you will have to find a way to get word to Xudur or myself; we will need to know the number of the chamber he occupies before we board the
H’vington
in Earth’s Vesper disc.”

“Nervous?” Chubby inquired.

“Of course I am. I wanted more time to think this whole scenario out. We get one chance, Chubby. When the
H’vington
Vespers to Earth, Alliance forces will board immediately and set up a force field around that chamber. We will do this before any countermeasures can be enacted on the ship.” Chubby remained attentive.

“Nedilli will be brought on board immediately from the
Heritage
and placed beside Urzel’s vessel. She will be accompanied by Jim, Gem, Xudur, other security Owlers, and me. Then we will Vesper to the Maxime Quadrant—the farthest leap from Earth, and largely deserted. Rodan and I believe this area is our safest bet to execute our plan.”

“Will I have time to disembark?”

“You will have completed your dangerous mission, Chubby, should we get that far into the plan. I suggest you leave the
H’vington
. Once at Maxime, the force field around Urzel will be switched off. The force field around us will be turned on, all except for Nedilli. As the ship moves toward Toad’s choice of final destination, Nedilli will be given one last chance to reason with Urzel.”

“Once the ship reaches our appointed destination, Nedilli, who shields the assassin, will move outside and coax Urzel with her. We will have to gamble that Urzel follows so we can initiate protective forces around the ship and escape quickly. Then, as the device is fired, the field will be activated at that exact second to protect Nedilli and the marksman. By then the ship will have moved distant from the confrontation. There is no certainty the Owler will be protected; Nedilli’s molecules will be spread thin, but it will not be fatal.”

Chubby shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t believe it. Deacon, I have grown to like you. There are too many variables in this plan. Is Toad sure this will work? Who is to say that Urzel will wander outside the
H’vington
to unite with his mother? Didn’t someone tell us that when Urzel is at Medulla, he keeps to himself, and that he has not visited his mother? Why now? Sounds like a ruddy bunch of luck needed. I’ll say an Aralian blessing for you. This plan involves accuracy beyond incredible luck. I don’t think that you can board rapidly enough to place Urzel inside a force field, let alone activate the force field to protect Nedilli after the shot is fired.” His nose twitched.

“This is the only plan we have, Chubby.”

Chubby was solemn. “I don’t like this. No offense to you and Toad.”

“Chubby, I know this is difficult for you, but you need to find the courage to examine the settings on chamber fifteen.”

“I’ll be a trembalin’ all theee way, Cap’n.”

“No joking matter.”

“Humor sometimes geeets me through these times.”

“Chubby, I must warn you. Don’t for a single second think of our mission—the
G’uillger
, the Medullans—for if Urzel intercepts one single thought of this plan, we are all doomed and you are a dead man.”

Chubby nodded. “It is the plight of my previous crew that drives me.”

“Did you make arrangements for the
G’uillger
to be assigned somewhere else?”

“No problem. The skeleton crew will transport her to Aralia for a next mission while all of you flee from here to Earth in the
Heritage
. No doubt she’s a faster ship to speed you to Earth.”

They hugged. “Nedilli, Toad, Schlegar, the Owlers, Xudur, and I must depart immediately for Earth on the
Heritage
to prepare for your arrival. I must also have enough time to visit with Landrew. Until I see you on Earth, good luck, my friend.”

Chubby refused to break the lock. “’Til the Vesper dish on Earth then, matey.”

Suddenly Deacon saluted and left. As Chubby trudged down the hallway, Deacon was far ahead of him. He yelled, “Partners to theeee end.” Deacon did not hear him.

Four passengers—Xudur, Toad, Schlegar, and Deacon—buckled themselves securely in the
Heritage
on the upper deck while Jim and Gem manipulated the controls to depart Medulla soonest, preferably in the opposite direction of the
H’vington
, which was winging to Medulla. This moment brought back Deacon’s last memory of fleeing in the
Heritage
when Travers met his death. Gem announced departure, so the ship proceeded cautiously inside the port on Medulla to connect with Nedilli.

In peril

When Gem signaled that Nedilli had boarded and was safe in the compression chamber on the lowermost engine level, the
Heritage
turned and, in a circuitous route to avoid intersecting the
H’vington
’s path, jetted to the Vesper station. As they left, Deacon spied a tiny dot, a shuttle, emerging from the bowels of the
G’uillger
to the docking station. This was no doubt Lookey. His thoughts would always be with him.

Chubby sat in the crewman’s lounge staring out into space when, from the corner of his eye, a ship appeared. It was the death ship, and it looked like one ship with two cigar-shaped engines flanking a bulbous, ominous black hulk. On the bottom was written boldly “JTS H’VINGTON.”

Chubby’s knees trembled. Quickly realizing such a shake would be suspicious, he inhaled slow, deep breaths, recognizing that the moment of retribution for Travers was near. The ship docked, and after a time, he hobbled into the portal. Chubby checked the roster of the
H’vington
and recognized that he had met only one of the crew members before, and only for an instant.

As he ascended the walkway, a voice beckoned him. “You there.”

He turned to find a husky young Sorellian approaching. “This ship carries precious cargo. It is off-limits.”

“Premission tu board, sir?” he replied gleefully.

“Denied!” The Sorellian was angry. “Be off with you!”

“Papers, sir.” Shyly he presented the wad of disheveled orders to the startled officer.

“I am the captain of this ship. I know of no orders to take you or anyone else aboard. No one checked this matter with me!”

“Cap’n, I’m just a loyal Aralian workman of the trade union. I just duz as I am tolds. However, if yee be me off, and take that responsibility, then I’ll stay here for the next ship, as I’s just met this Aralian hussy in the port office, and she be lots a fun, this hussy.”

“Wait here!” He stormed down the corridor annoyedly, leaving Chubby aglow, as he knew that the captain would find that his orders had been approved. Moments later, he charged back. Sorellians are tall, thin, dominant beings, and this one towered over Chubby. “Permission to board based on trade orders, but I’ll have you to know that I am not pleased with this and I will have to put you off at the first transfer opportunity.”

“Well, I’m not pleased either, Cap’n. As I was sayin’, there’s this hussy—”

“Silence. What is your name, you crippled slob?”

“My name is Lookey, Captain.” Chubby would remember this rude and insolent officer, this potential disciple of Urzel. He exercised discipline by clearing his mind.

“Check with the officer of the daily roster, name of Nurdless, on deck ten. Go on! Get out of my sight!” As he slowly made his way up the corridor, he accented his gimpy gait to annoy the captian. Behind him he heard, “Damn union orders.”

Chubby’s bout with insolence did not end soon. Nurdless was a surly, tall Aralian, foul of mouth, who barked orders to all within earshot. After reviewing Chubby’s duties, Nurdless assigned Chubby to his room, where Chubby happily retreated to the safety of his quarters. There, he temporarily removed the bandages from his knee and sighed with relief. The first step had been accomplished—access to the
H’vington
had been gained! Now the waiting game would begin. At once he thought that he had made a serious oversight. Was this crew all programmed by Urzel to command him? Would Urzel suddenly appear at his door to thrust his will upon him, to brainwash him? Chubby stared at the door and stared and stared. Were these crewmen all soldiers of fortune? Were they aware or unaware of the cargo they carried? Were they under the spell of the demon? “Oh no,” he too late realized he had been thinking all these things. “Blank out these thoughts!”