Hellfire (THEIRS NOT TO REASON WHY)

by Jean Johnson

  Setting the top of the Puzzle Box on the table, Ia inverted the bottom half over her hand. It took her three shakes to dislodge the inner brick. Shaped like the outer box, if on a smaller scale, the inner object looked like it had been crafted from a single light green tourmaline, or maybe peridot, save that its edges were more bluish in hue.

  Whatever it was, the transparent material had rounded corners, and contained a bronze box of its own inside. The only catch was, there was no catch; the inner crystalline box had no seams whatsoever. Either the inner bronze box had been dipped in molten glass, or some sort of gem had been grown around it.

  “…May I?” Laka’thi asked Ia, holding out her hand toward the box. Seated to Ia’s immediate right, with the Highlord Adjutant on her other side, she didn’t have to stretch to do so.

  A quick check of the timestreams confirmed what the woman was about to do. Nodding, Ia passed the gem-brick to her. Before the others could ask why she wanted it, the Archivist raised the translucent box high in her hand and smashed it down with a startlingly loud crack! against the edge of the polished-wood table. Ibeni-Zif and Sa-Nieth both jumped, and the High Priest clutched at the robes covering his chest.

  “What are you doing?” he demanded, scandalized. “That is a sacred artifact you’re trying to smash!”

  “Calm yourself, Your Holiness,” Ia told him, lifting her hand. “She’s actually doing her job, by proving that case isn’t made of mere glass. If you examined the table, you’d see a faint indent from where it struck.”

  “The Terran is correct,” Laka’thi confirmed, holding up the gem-like case, showing it intact. “The Archives recorded how this inner box was placed between a hammer and an anvil, and struck with full strength. I am no blacksmith with bulging arms, but this table would break under my blows long before this case ever would.

  “There is no seam, and no sign of a way to open it. No one has ever touched the inner box since the Immortal herself crafted it.” She lobbed the box at Ia, who caught it one-handed. “If you are the Prophet, you will be able to open it, ‘Ia.’ The Immortal has said so.”

  Ia shrugged and offered it to the Grand General, seated to her left. “Feel free to examine it for a seam, meioas, before I do so. Once I open it, there is no going back. What has been seen cannot be unseen.”

  “Do the Terrans train all of their officers to boast and grandstand?” he asked her, accepting the box and turning it over in his hands, thumbnail questing along the crystalline sides in an attempt to discern a seam. “Or did they just train you?”

  “True grandstanding would actually detract from my message, sir,” Ia told him. “It is the messages I bring that are important. I am merely their vessel. I am also giving each one of you a chance to verify personally that there is no way to get through that outer covering. No cracks, no hinges, no seams…and no tricks.”

  He frowned and scraped his finger over it again, then shook his head and offered it to the High Priest. “I cannot see a way to open it.”

  Ma’alak examined it. His thinner face also furrowed as the seconds of his examination ticked into a full minute, until with a frown of his own he passed it over the table to the third man. Highlord Sa-Nieth turned it over several times, rubbing his thumbnail over all the surfaces and angles, then shrugged and handed it to Laka’thi, who returned it to Ia.

  “As you have seen for yourselves,” Ia stated, running her thumb all the way around the edge, “this ‘secret’ has no openings. It is a solid piece, with no hinge, no lock, and no lid.”

  Shifting her grip, she grasped top and bottom, carefully focused her psychic abilities…and pulled the gem apart like a pair of simple lids, using the same gentle patience she had used on the outer case. The act revealed the unoxidized, pristine bronze box nested inside.

  The High Priest’s jaw dropped, the Highlord Adjutant’s eyes bulged, and the Grand General choked on his caf’, grabbing for his own napkin. Of the four of them, only Priestess Laka’thi sat as still as a statue. Her face was now flushed, but she didn’t blink, and didn’t breathe.

  Ia dropped the upper lid—which was solidly pale blue, not green—onto the table with a crystalline ching. The musical sound provoked a blink from the elderly woman. It was followed by a deep breath. She looked like she was experiencing a holy revelation, caught up in the unthinking awe of the moment. Glad the other woman was at least breathing again, Ia eased the box from its depths and dropped the bottom half of the crystalline container next to the top half.

  Unlike the outermost one, this bronze box hadn’t been exposed to either moisture or oxygen since its creator had sealed it up in the first place. But, just like the outer one, this one did have a thin, flush-fitted seam.

  “This Puzzle Box is sealed with a system similar to the one used on the previous one, save that it has only ten hooks, not twenty.” Another careful twist-and-push of her mind, and she pulled the two pieces apart, revealing her words to be true. She set that lid next to the other pieces, the outer bronze casings, and the middle blue-crystalline lids. This time, the interior of the box had been padded with a rectangle of what looked like plain grey felt.

  Tipping the contents into her palm caused the felt to fall out, but that was alright; the felt was merely there to pad the transparent rectangle stored inside, to keep it from rattling. Ia tilted her hand, shaking it slightly to discard the wool, then turned the bookmark-sized slab over and laid it on the table.

  It was crafted from the same material as the crystalline box, though its creator had forged it from two tones of crystal, the sapphire blue of the middle box and a pale golden hue. With the polished V’Dan wood of the table beneath accenting that yellow, the double line of characters forged into the slab were easy enough to read. One line had been crafted in archaic V’Dan script; the other had been printed in block-letter Terranglo. Both said the exact same thing, a simple, single phrase.

  Iantha’nn sud-dha.

  Amused by the Immortal’s sense of humor, Ia smiled. Picking up her cup, she took a sip of her caf’, set it back down, and pushed her chair back. “I do believe we are done here, gentlebeings. My birth name and emancipation records can be easily verified within the hour. You do not need me for that. You also have my current set of prophecies, tailored for each of your needs. When it is the right time to receive more of them, you will indeed receive them—you have my Prophetic Stamp on that.

  “In the meantime, do keep in mind that both my existence and my prophecies are not to be used or abused for any personal agendas, whether religious, political, or otherwise. I am here to help save as many lives as I can, whether they are Sh’nai or otherwise, V’Dan or Terran, Tlassian or Solarican, Alliance lives or the lives of a hundred sentient species we haven’t even met yet.” Rising, she bowed politely. “I thank you for your hospitality and the cup of caf’. It was delicious.

  “If you’ll excuse me, this is the first chance for Leave my crew and I have had since my command was first assembled, and I would like to go enjoy some of it myself. I’m sure Leftenant P’kethra can show me back out to the public sector, so that the four of you can sit here in peace and quiet without being hobbled by my presence while you discuss the implications of all of this.”

  “…How did you open that?” Lifting her head, Laka’thi gazed at Ia. “No one has been able to open that inner box in all our records. No one even knows what that crystal box was made from, just that the Immortal herself made it.”

  “That’s because the Immortal will have borrowed that knowledge from the secrets of the Third Human Empire…which has yet to be born as an empire,” Ia said, her tone wry. “Both of us are bound by the strictures of Time to keep that information a secret, as it is something we are only permitted to borrow for our personal use and are not to divulge to any others. I hope you will respect my right to temporal secrecy when it comes to another government’s secrets, just as you would expect me to respect your own sovereign rights to secrecy.

  “Long live the Eternal Empire, m
eioas, and long live the alliance between us. Have a good day,” she finished politely, and gestured for the junior officer to lead the way out of the conference room.

  He gave the others a bemused look, then gave in with a dip of his head and headed for the door. Ia made a mental note to pass along a letter of commendation for his discretion and sense of equilibrium in the face of the day’s events. A recommendation from a foreigner would carry some weight, but one offered by the Prophet—now confirmed as such—would carry even more. Good junior officers are hard to find, after all. Particularly the unflappable ones.

  Her quarry sat as he usually did at this time of the day, just after the end of a shift filled with cleanerbot herding. Grizzled hair slicked back, wrinkled brown skin sporting the same golden undertones as most V’Dan did, he sat with his elbows on his knees, a sugarstick dangling between two fingers. Most of his attention was on the great bay window giving a few of the planet’s curve and gleaming streaks of sunlight.

  Placed as it was in the V’Dan homeworld’s L2 orbit, slightly farther out than the planet’s shadow could cover, there was a constant halo effect. Coupled with the ionosphere’s auroras, the view was spectacular, worthy of being watched. It also helped that the window was half-silvered, dulling the brightness of the local star. There were several benches arrayed before the window, taking advantage of that view, but only a few were occupied, and no one but the old man in the dark blue pants and grey shirt sat on the centermost one.

  It was hard to picture this tired-looking, somewhat elderly man as being the real power on Tatth-Niel, but Ia knew better. He looked up at her approach, lifting the sugarstick to his lips. She gestured at the broad bench. “Mind if I have a seat?”

  “’S a free port,” he grunted, sucking on the flavored stick.

  Unbuttoning her Dress jacket for comfort, Ia sat and removed her hat. The bench was a little low, but not uncomfortable. Leaning forward, she braced her elbows on her knees, letting the cap dangle from her fingertips. “Nice view.”

  “That, it is,” he agreed.

  (I trust you know why I’m here?) Ia asked, shaping and aiming the thought carefully.

  He slanted a sidelong look her way. (You aren’t a player, half child.)

  (It won’t be long before I manifest,) she warned him. Dropping her gaze to her cap, she rotated it slowly in her grip. (I’m not here to compare bubble-sizes, Kierfando,) Ia stated. (I am here to counteroffer Miklinn’s intent to ask you to faction for a counterfaction against me.)

  (What could you possibly offer me, half-breed?) he replied, sucking again on the stick.

  Leaning over, she offered her hand palm up. “Ia,” she said aloud in introduction, adding silently, (Come and see.)

  “Kier,” he grunted out loud, clasping hands. (Why should I even—)

  Counting the offer of his touch as permission given, Ia dragged him onto the timeplains. In the real world, his brown eyes lightened to amber for just a few heartbeats. At least, out in the physical world. In the timeplains, she emerged on the bank with her hand stuck in an oversized silvery sphere and a lot more Time on her side.

  Before he could react to the abrupt change in mental landscapes, she hauled him toward the end of the galaxy.

  The mirror-like surface roiled and swirled with indignation. (You presume much!)

  She didn’t prevaricate. (I have just been proved to be the Prophet of a Thousand Years, as foretold to these people for millennia by the Abomination, and have been proved so in front of high-ranked leaders of the Sh’nai faith. As soon as they spread word of this—and it will spread—the majority of the V’Dan Empire shall become faction to me. I offer you a chance to shift your position slightly, so that your actions will be fortified and your efforts will not be washed away in the flood of my own.

  (I also offer you this chance to see what my goal is, so you may understand just how strongly it aligns with your own,) Ia stated.

  Stopping by the bank of her carefully tended channel, she displayed the disparity of this future point in time. The lush growth of the prairie’s past, the barren emptiness of the deserted future, and the one crack in the wall of the coming fate that led to a garden of renewed possibilities.

  (Examine it quickly. I dare not let our hands linger for long, lest someone notice it on the security cameras and wonder why I’m taking so long to introduce myself to you. That would be counterproductive to your cover…and I would not like to make the same stupid mistake I made when I exposed Miklinn.)

  The sphere spun and bobbed, probing at the visage of Time, tasting the waters. He finally pulled back. (…Yes, that was particularly stupid of you. Move us back to our entry point and show me this proof that says to the V’Dan you’re the Prophet.)

  Doing as he bid, Ia did not take offense. She had been stupid that day and was strong enough to acknowledge it. Kierfando was one of the oldest Meddlers in local space. He was also one of the most flexible and forgiving for his kind. The youngest ones were arrogant, the middling ones inflexibly prejudiced, and the oldest ones set in their ways, but not him. That was why he still held such a potent position in their Game, poised at a major interstellar crossroads.

  She gave him time to examine the recent scene in her own past, then pulled his bubble out of the waters again. (Have you seen enough?)

  (For now? Yes. When we part company, shake hands with me again. I wish to examine the Great Demand you will supposedly make of us.)

  Withdrawing their minds back into their bodies, Ia released his fingers. Only a few seconds had passed, physically. (Provided you agree to be neutral to me at the very least when we part company, then we have a deal. You will get nothing if you choose to counterfaction me to any degree.)

  He snorted and sucked on his sugarstick. (You learn quickly. You also have sparks the size of this station, thinking you can make demands on a fullblood.)

  (My “sparks” are bigger than this entire star system,) she bragged, smiling slightly. The boast earned her a mental chuckle. (Thank you for being more flexible than most of your kind,) she told Kierfando. (If I’d tried to make that joke with one of the others, they’d have smacked me for hubris rather than seeing it for what it is.)

  (“Humor is a waste of energy,”) he quoted, sucking on the sugarstick again. (That line of thought is a bunch of matter-loaded recharge, if you ask me.)

  “You know, those things aren’t entirely healthy for your teeth,” Ia offered out loud. “Or your pancreas.”

  “Been suckin’ on ’em longer than you’ve been alive, meioa-e,” Kier grunted back. “I’ve earned my vices. Haven’t you, yet?”

  “Hm. Vices…I don’t think I have any, unless you count a slavish devotion to my military duties,” she admitted.

  He eyed her and pulled a fresh, plexi-wrapped stick out of his shirt pocket. “You need this more than I do if all you do is march around and shoot at people.”

  She accepted it with a dip of her head. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me. Shut up and suck up,” he ordered her.

  “Sir, yes, sir,” she quipped, earning her a second mental chuckle in reply.

  Unwrapping the stick, she tucked the end between her lips and sucked. The flavor was fruity, something V’Dan local and not anything she had tasted before. If it had been the real fruit, it would have been filled with histaminic triggers, but like every other Human in the known galaxy, Ia had been inoculated at birth with the jungen virus to counteract such things. As it was, the flavor was an exotic touch. Some of her home colony’s orchards had been planted with seeds from V’Dan, but nothing like this.

  She sucked again, enjoying the treat. (Tasty. Thank you.)

  (My favorite. I’ll offer you a provisional faction, Prophet—and yes, I acknowledge you as such. Neutral-assured until you manifest, then I’ll faction you,) he clarified. (If I faction you openly before you prove yourself a player, not a pawn, that could weaken my own plays considerably. If you don’t make the change…as you fleshies say, no sweat off my bac
k.)

  (That’s acceptable. Provisional faction, neutral until manifestation,) Ia confirmed.

  “Well. Time for me to go, girl. Got supper waiting for me, and nobody making it but me,” he added out loud. (Tonight’s menu calls for a gentle bath of ultraviolet light for about an hour, followed by soaking in a static generation wheel. Come back sometime, child, after you make the change, and I’ll treat you to a nice “home-cooked” meal.)

  She chuckled. “My cooking is barely tolerable. I had to barter for a whole ship of soldiers under my command to do it for me.” She held out her hand again. “Nice to meet you, Kier. Thank you for the view, the stick, and the hospitality.”

  “Not a problem,” he said, clasping hands with her. (Now show your desperate, Game-based request to me.)

  Once more, Time ran faster on the plains than out in reality. Ia swayed them both forward—not nearly as far as the first trip—and dipped him into one of the defining moments of her sought-after future. It took him a few seconds in the streams to grasp the implications of her demand. When he did…he recoiled, the surface of his energy-sphere turning dark with shock. Ia eased him up onto the bank and offered him a packet of psychic energy. He did not refuse, proof of his agitation.

  (You see why I cannot do this without your people’s help,) she murmured as he recovered, his surface gradually growing mirror-bright again. (My Right of Simmerings ends in less than a month. I need your people to acknowledge I am a player in the Game, not a pawn, because I need everyone to faction with and aid me at that point in time.)

  (Half child, you do have sparks the size of this star system…but I can also see why it would be necessary, and why you will need our aid,) he agreed. The sphere swirled, focusing on her. (We’re the only ones who can escape being harmed by that thing…and I can also see why you’d allow it to be unleashed on your enemy. Those suckered fiends would counterfaction you and your pawns hard down through Time, unless you let that happen to them. But this, child, is going to shova v’shakk the Game plays out of several of us. Not me personally, but some of the others, oh yes. You will make counterfaction enemies with this.)