The Zygan Emprise: Renegade Paladins and Abyssal Redemption (17 page)

“And what happens after we get there?” I
tried to keep my expression calm.

“Don’t worry,” he added, “just stay with me
and I’ll take care of you.”

I got up slowly, my hands visible and clear
of weapons. “My Ergal would help.”

He smiled—I think—and reached a paw out to
gently pat me on my head. “Just follow my lead.”

I smiled at him politely, and muttered,
unconvinced, “The check is in the mail.”

Chapter 10

It’s about Space

M82 Galaxy—present day

It took us quite a few hours to arrive at
HD5924. The M82 galaxy wasn’t much farther from the Milky Way than
Andromeda, but I surmised that the Ursan ship wasn’t a racing
model, and we weren’t exactly flying at top speed.

My self-appointed “friend” met me at the door
right after we landed and put my hands into cherukles so I could
still walk. I entered the hangar sandwiched between the two Ursans,
neither of whom had bathed for what was an inconsiderately long
time.

We trudged down a long dark hall and then
turned into a closet-sized chamber. I recognized the lights that
glided over us as a primitive NDNA scan, and wondered if, after all
these exposures, I’d ever be able to have children someday.

Another chamber door opened to another dark
hall, and we continued walking somewhat downhill for several more
minutes before reaching a large, solid door, where we waited until
it groaned open.

The lights were blindingly bright, and it
took a few minutes for my eyes to adjust. The room beyond was quite
big, the size of at least three football fields, and contained
several khaki-colored domelike structures on its hard floor. Above
the domes floated hundreds of white spheres, many the size of
tennis balls, others up to twenty meters in diameter. Their walls
were translucent, and I could see flickering lights inside, but no
openings in their smooth surfaces.

Ignoring some of the smaller spheres that had
begun trailing us, the Ursans headed straight for one of the large
domes on the ground. The absence of doors in the domes didn’t seem
to faze my captors. When we arrived at the dome wall, we sort of
diffused right in through the … membrane … and found ourselves in
what looked like a government office building. Yes, right down to
the scuffed linoleum floors, stained linen-colored plaster walls,
and scratched gray doors, each sporting foot-long signs with
obscure titles that morphed from Ursan to English to Ursan as we
walked by.

We stopped in front of a door whose sign read
Executive Coordinator of Strategic Initiatives and Outcomes
Assessment. Ursan #1 placed his paw on a coat of arms on the center
of the door, which was momentarily bathed in light. The door then
opened and we were welcomed by a short, oily-haired man in a tweed
suit and bow tie. He invited us in to sit in some burnished leather
chairs before his cherry desk.

“Welcome, gentle beings, welcome. Do make
yourselves at home; I can mega the chairs if you wish,” he added
for the Ursans benefit.

My friend nodded and the chairs instantly
grew by a factor of two, pushing my own seat towards a paneled
wall. I eased my toes out to see if the wall was porous, so I could
maybe slide back out and make a run for it. Hard plastic. No such
luck.

The man was looking intently at me. “That
would be foolish, my dear,” he said in a harsh tone. An instant
later, he was smiling again. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

I shrugged, showing him my cherukled
hands.

“Agriarctos,” he instructed in Ursan, “do let
our guest have some tea.”

My friend nodded and removed my cherukles,
patting me once more with his paw. I gave him a cold stare that I
hope included the message, “You are not my type.”

The creepy little man Ergaled a steaming mug
of a purple substance that he levved towards me. I thanked him, and
cradled the mug without drinking.

“Now then,” he stopped and shot me a sideways
glance. “Does she know?” he asked the Ursans.

Agriarctos shook his head.

“Well, then,” said the man as he turned to me
and gushed, “I am Fahrquardt.”

He seemed to be waiting for a response. I
finally squeaked out, “Ah …”

“Goshdingdong to heckypoo!” Fahrquardt
shouted, as he angrily threw several paperweights which crashed on
the paneling over our heads. “What does it take to get fashionable
with young people today?!”

I now saw that the paneling all around us was
pockmarked—and that Fahrquardt still had a number of paperweights
laid out on his desk. Uh-oh. Reminded me of an insane studio
executive I had to deal with last year…

“Jumping Jilly!”

I started. Another paperweight flew by my
ear. “Yes, yes, sirree, Mr. Fahrquardt. Right here with you.”

Fahrquardt seemed to calm down just a bit.
“Well, goshamighty. Of course you are.” He paused, and then
giggled, “Didn’t mean to scare you there. They just don’t make
catascopes like they used to.” He laughed heartily for a few
minutes and then stopped cold.

“Where is it?” His voice was icy.

Double Uh-oh. I was in trouble. Not only
didn’t I have ‘it’, I didn’t even know what ‘it’ was. But, I’d
watched my agent do this during negotiations. I leaned back and
oozed faux confidence. “Are you ready to make a deal?”

“You are a cheeky little thing, aren’t you?”
Fahrquardt said, chuckling. “Okay. I’m a businessman. Ten million
credits as soon as you deliver the Somalderis. And, of course, I’ll
send,” he nodded at the Ursans, “Agriarctos and Plionarctos to
help.”

Summelwhat? Where had I heard that before …?
Pretending I knew exactly what the clown across from me was talking
about, I put on my self-assured grin, and sat forward assertively.
“Fifty million
and
asylum.
And
, my own sanctuary in
M82.”

I braced myself for another paperweight
assault. Fahrquardt’s hand reached towards his desk. “Goodness
gracious, you do drive a hard bargain, my dear.” He grabbed the
only book in the room, opened it, and removed several tissues from
the dispenser inside it which he used to blow his nose with a loud
honk. “Golly gee, I guess I’ll have to say yes.” He stuffed the
tissues back in the book dispenser. “Plionarctos, go with—”

Agriarctos stood up quickly, knocking the mug
out of my hand and splattering the hot liquid all over his partner.
Plionarctos roared as the tea burned his white fur and skin, so
unused to heat.

“A thousand pardons,” Agriarctos whispered to
his companion. The clumsy Ursan turned to the small man.
“Plionarctos must seek care, Fahrquardt. I will go with the girl to
retrieve the Somalderis. We will return by sunsrise,” he added,
brushing my hand.

Hearing my cue, I stood up and joined in,
“Hey! Why are we wasting time, Artie?” I grabbed him by his thick,
furry arm. “Let’s go. Mister Fahrquardt’s treasure awaits!”

A paperweight whizzed by each of our noses,
dealing Agriarctos’ longer snout a glancing blow. We both turned,
ready to duck.

“If you’re not back by morning,” Fahrquardt’s
tone was no longer genial, “Benedict will have your hide,” he
threatened Agriarctos, before fixing his piercing gaze on me, “and
your neck.”

* * *

“Well done,” I said to my Ursan guard as he
guided me in cherukles back to the Ursan ship. “Thank you for
getting me out of there. You do know, of course, that we now
actually have to go find that Summelthingy, whatever it is.”

“Somalderis,” he whispered as he shut the
door of the airlock.

“Whatever. So, what exactly is it?”

Agriarctos struggled to explain. “It’s an
ancient … membrane, that’s a … gateway to other … worlds,” he
stumbled. “That’s all I really know.”

Membrane? Gary’s tale popped back into my
brain. Brain … Brane … P-brane. God, I wish Spud were here with me.
I really could use
his
brain right now.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any idea where
we might find this, uh, membrane?” I ventured, not very
optimistic.

Agriarctos shook his head. “Just give it to
me and I’ll see that Fahrquardt gets it and sends you your
money.”

“Me? What makes you think
I’ve
got
it?” Was that what all this was about?

Agriarctos snorted, a sound that blended a
cough and a bark. “You didn’t steal it from Sutherland? You were
bluffing?”

“Uh, yeah…” I inched away as far as I could
to stay out of furry arms’ reach.

“Well, then,” Agriarctos decided, “I guess
we’ll have to go back to Sidon and look for it together.” His voice
was cold. “Until I believe you.”

* * *

Agriarctos locked the portal and let me ride
shotgun on the bridge this time, without cherukles. I settled
comfortably in my seat for the long trip back to Earth, where I
figured I’d have a better chance of successfully escaping.
Agriarctos’ current size advantage against me would be offset once
we landed by the spectacle of a talking polar bear chasing me down
the streets of ancient Phoenicia. I was fervently hoping that Sidon
had a well-staffed Animal Control Department, or at least a few
Roman archers with good aim.

“Who is Fahrquardt, anyway?” I asked as we
went into warp. “I’ve never heard of him.”

“Benedict’s #8, though he thinks he’s #4,”
Agriarctos chuckled. “Bureaucrats never make it past #5.”

I whistled. “So that
was
a Benedict
refuge?”

“Outpost. Not refuge,” Agriarctos clarified.
“M81 and 82 aren’t Zygan protectorates, you know.”

I shrugged. “Not yet, anyway. So what makes
you think this MacGuff—Somal … deris is still on Earth?” I asked
casually.

Agriarctos looked at me from the corner of
his eyes. “I’ve seen it.”

I sat up. “Whoa. No kidding?”

The Ursan nodded.

“Where?”
“The first time, a place called Kolhis, near the Black Sea. Many,
many years ago. And then--”

The rest of his answer was lost in the
explosion. The fusion torpedos from the starcruiser took out the
rear of our ship and all of our propulsers. We were tossed out of
faster-than-light hyperdrive and thrown off course hundreds of
kilometers, floating dead in space. Thankfully alive. But lost “at
sea.”

“What happened?” I asked Agriarctos, who
seemed intent on determining our coordinates on his locator
holo.

Before he could answer, our ship trembled and
started to move. Agriarctos’s furry paws desperately tapped buttons
on his console and icons on multiple holos, but were unable to
counter the force that was pulling us backwards, faster and faster
through unfamiliar space.

I leaned over and switched one of the screens
next to me to display a view of what was left of the rear of our
ship, in the hopes that I might glimpse what or who was tractoring
us at top speed. I was, I admit, relieved when I recognized the
titanium maw of the enormous ship that was about to swallow us.
Gliesers. The border guards of the Zygan Federation.

“Rescued!” I cheered, as we were drawn into
the belly—or bowels, depending on your perspective—of a giant
shark-nosed vessel whose underside sported the Zygfed flag.

Agriarctos mumbled something that sounded
like a Zygan curse. As our cruiser slowed down and came to a stop
in the giant warship’s hangar, Agriarctos slipped me back my Ergal
with the pointed comment, “Your turn.”

Before I could ask what he meant, our
cruiser’s main portal was opened remotely by the Glieser welcoming
committee. As soon as the airlock realeased, I inched towards the
opening and peeked into the cavernous water-logged hangar to be
welcomed by the Gliesers with arms. Not open ones, I’m sorry to
say, as Gliesers are an aquatic species and only have fins. And in
those fins were the latest model stun guns, pointed at me.

Oops. Apparently, entering back into Zygfed
space without clearance or authorization was somewhat frowned upon,
even if our intentions were harmless. Which they were … I
think.

I now understood Agriarctos’s plan. He’d
given me back my Ergal in the hopes that I, as an official Zygint
catascope, would save
his
skin this time, and get us out of
trouble with the border barracudas.

I stepped out of what was left of the Ursan
ship, and stood at the water level on the ramp, holding up my Ergal
in a gesture of “I’m with Zygint. Don’t shoot!”

They didn’t shoot. But they didn’t trust me
entirely either, as I felt myself become stunned and immobile once
again. A contingent of glistening Gliesers levved me supine above
the water and out of the hangar. I flashed a mental image of being
trapped in a coffin, paraded to my grave by piscatory pallbearers,
and concentrated on taking deep breaths as John had coached me
years before.

From my frozen position, I couldn’t see what
was happening with Agriarctos. I was taken directly to a room that
resembled, well, an aquarium. Only the water was on the
outside
of the tank, bathing my audience of Glieser
interrogators. I was laid on the cold floor, and, after my
pallbearers had returned to their fluid-filled observation posts, I
felt waves of scans buffeting my body.

After the requisite scans confirmed my
genuine identity as a Zygint catascope and I had been unstunned, I
asked my current (no pun intended) colleagues about the Ursan.

“What Ursan?” was the frigid response.

“Damn!” was my hot one. I was now facing
hours of grilling about why I was tooling around the edge of
Andromeda without authorization in an Ursan ship. And, somehow,
Agriarctos had managed to escape!

Chapter 11

It’s about Two Men in the Strangest Place

Zygan Federation Border—present day

I wish I could say things went swimmingly,
but I’m not Sarion. It took almost six hours of intense
questioning, and an influential call from Juan De La Cruz at
Headquarters, for the Gliesers to finally agree to release me in my
own custody; along with a warning about following proper procedures
for travel authorization and border crossing to enter Zygfed
territory. Yes, sirs. At least I had escaped another visit to the
Omega Archon.