The Adventures of Deacon Coombs (63 page)

Moonlight
Brings a Visitor

Visitors

The old oak door opened fully to reveal the Owler Jim dressed in an apron, beater appliance in hand, beaming with a smile. “My,” Jim gleefully said, “Master Chubby Eaves and Schlegar.” As they entered Moonbeam, Jim continued to greet them each with courteous remarks and to speak about his extreme satisfaction with his new assignment as servant and guard to Deacon Coombs. “Master Deacon will be delighted to see you both. Please wait here in his lounge.”

The Owler strutted away after he had seated Chubby and Schlegar in the room, which overlooked the far reaches of the straits. Upon Jim’s announcement, Deacon excitedly hurried to them; once there, he received the usual tight Aralian bear hugs.

“Villya, Deacon,” they said in unison.

“We depart from Anglo port tonight to Vesper to Aralia,” said Chubby. “We had free time, so what better to do than pay homage to our dear friend Deacon Coombs.” Chubby accompanied his remarks with exaggerated body language conveying his delight.

Schlegar looked slightly confused. “I was told that Jim was sent to the junk heap to be recycled as used parts. Is this a similar model?”

Deacon paused before answering. “I know this sounds crazy, but I became very attached to Jim and Gem. At one point in the case, I felt that they were my only two true friends, the only ones to trust. That was before I met you two, naturally. Landrew once said to me to trust the Owlers. I did. He also stated that if there was anything else I needed, I should just ask.”

He looked over at Jim, who was now dusting the bureau in the hallway. “I couldn’t just let them trash old Jim, so I paid out of my compensation to make him fully functional again, and when Landrew discovered what I had done, he reimbursed me.”

Chubby shook his head while Schlegar found it humorous and snorted loudly in his laughter. Schlegar then stopped to speak. “I didn’t need to convince Chubby to come here. I wanted to tell you in person that I didn’t hold it against you for recommending that the research at Brebouillis be terminated. Continuing our efforts posed an even greater danger. I now believe it firmly.”

They engaged in spirited chatter, with Jim attending to their every need for food and refreshments, even providing his fleeting humorous anecdotes. They reminisced about the journey to Nix, Chubby’s tribulations on the
H’vington
, and the comic interventions of Lookey. They also relived the final battle scene and discussed the outcome, each admiring and saluting Xudur for taking the final bold step. Schlegar was despondent in his comments about Travers. “Too late did I heed your advice about my son, Deacon. As I read and reread the accounts of his attempts to lead the traders’ union, and your records of his heroism on Nix, I felt so stupid, so ashamed that I never reunited with him before his death. It was so foolish to let my obstinate ways stand in the way of forgiveness. Being humble is not an Aralian trait, as you discovered, Deacon.”

Schlegar moved to beside Chubby and placed his arm around him. “I have adopted a new son. Chubby’s parents are both deceased. My only son is deceased, so it made sense to increase the size of both our families. Right?”

Chubby grinned and said, “He has already put pressure on me to run for the vacated position of head of the Union of Space Traders, with support from my dad, the campaign chairman.”

“My son, the rightful heir to the throne of the traders’ union. He would make a fine leader. Don’t you agree, Deacon?”

Deacon felt a warmth creep through him as he saw them together. “I shall never forget you two. Whatever you do in life, call on me for my support. And yes, he would make a fine leader, Schlegar. He has all the great deceitful traits.” Schlegar and Deacon laughed as Chubby objected vigorously.

After further banter, Schlegar said, “Take care of her. She is like a daughter to me. On Brebouillis, she was one salvation. I know you don’t see her as much as you like with her job in Liberty City, but Lyanna is my special person, as she is yours. We just visited her and gave her our regards in Liberty yesterday. She kept me company during those long, lonely nights on Brebouillis.”

“I will take care of her. I promise.”

Chubby said, “Let’s use the Earth custom this time on departure. I am referring to handshakes of sincerity. No Aralian hugging.”

After the ritual, Deacon stood at the door with Jim as Schlegar and Chubby sauntered down his lane to their vehicle. Chubby turned to yell, “Partners fer life, matey!”

“Aye, Lookey,” Deacon replied. He stood there until the craft disappeared, and he then returned to pen a note to a barrister he had engaged as a client. Miram cuddled up in his lap as he finished the lengthy correspondence. As was the case each night since he had returned to Earth, he found that his eyelids became heavy early in the evening as the cool night air descended.

A visitor

Deacon moved to his deck to rest on a recliner as the waves crashed into the rocks below. The moon cast intermittent beams on the hissing white tide as Deacon Coombs lay prostrate over two hundred feet above the sands. The rhythmic crashes placed them into a deep sleep. Miram had missed her master so had spent many hours by his side since his return. This evening was no exception.

Hours later, the moon was high but repeatedly blocked from view by streams of clouds racing across the heavens. Miram was awakened by the sound of a rock chip tumbling down the chalky cliffs. Slithering over the dew-laden deck, she spied a stranger approaching and ascending to the far end of the balcony.

She immediately hissed in Deacon’s ear to arouse him. As she did so, he heaved a deep sigh and stretched his arms outright. As Deacon arose and then gazed out over the paradise of surf and sea and stars, Miram continued to hiss. He suddenly shared her concern as a hooded stranger ascended the steps at the end of the balcony and, piece by piece, step by step, came into view. The scene was tense as Deacon struggled to understand who the intruder was; Jim was too distant to summon. Miram perched behind a beam, awaiting her master’s signal.

An arm extended and pointed to him as a deep, husky voice said, “Deacon Coombs. I have traveled far to reach your residence. Your presence is requested immediately to resolve a very urgent matter.”

Deacon strained to see inside the hood as Jim now moved onto the deck and stood beside him. He felt confident as he returned the comments. “I have a front entrance.”

“And I come as a friend.”

“What do you want?”

The tone was firm but changed its pitch. “You are a wanted man. I want you on the beach below immediately. Now!”

Deacon smiled in elation as Jim positioned himself beside Deacon and whispered in his ear what he already knew. “Master, that is the voice of Lyanna.”

“You sneak. Miram might have bitten you.”

“Doubtful. When you were in Medulla, I visited here, and Miram and I became very good friends. Right, Miram?” The slinky orange asp wound itself around Lyanna’s ankle and looked upward with a smile. “I just couldn’t resist a look inside Moonbeam while you were absent.”

With that comment, Lyanna and Deacon raced through the rocks to the beach, he in pursuit of her, until finally he caught her and they tumbled into the shallow surf. She pointed to the rocks behind them where Miram stood guard. Then she pushed him off and ran farther in the sand in her bare feet. As Deacon approached, she discarded her robe, revealing her elegance to him in her bathing suit. “Come warm me up.”

Deacon said, “I am still very shy.”

“Not for long,” she said as she approached him. Miram sat among the cold, mossy rocks, eyes wide open and thin mouth in a taut smile.

That same evening in Anglo, Maisie Pitchford and the Alliance-renowned actor Dymenttt were giving a command performance for the royalty of Europa. As the audience watched, Dymenttt stunned the small group by clutching his throat and slamming to the stage in another one of his award-winning performances. The death scene was precise, riveting, and as the curtain closed, the audience expressed their appreciation for the arts with a thunderous standing ovation.

But on this night, Dymenttt did not rise for his normal curtain call, and the tears that Maisie Pitchford shed were genuine. As Lyanna and Deacon lay down as one soul, cuddled up on the beach, little did they know that this tragic death of Dymenttt would bring them closer together and drive them farther apart as they launched into the depths of space again.