Minerva's Soul (The Harry Irons Trilogy)

by Thomas Stone

  “After that,” said Ellis, “we grabbed our things, jumped in our truck and split as fast as we could.”

  “When was this video taken?” asked Fagen.

  “Five years ago, in the spring.”

  “Change is slow out in the desert. Dunes come and go, rock is eroded by wind and sand and the occasional flash flood – five years is not long in desert time.”

  “What about the rock formations? I think I’ve seen several in all the videos.”

  “Could be a lair.”

  Kathleen nodded. “That’s the same kind of thing Harry and I saw.”

  Harry nodded. “Could be a lair. Or, something else”

  “Like what?” asked Jennings.

  “Remains of an earlier visitation.”

  The Ellises smiled but resisted laughing outright. Jennings looked at Griswold and asked, “Is he for real?”

  Griswold grunted and said, “Bullshit.”

  Fagen and Kathleen leaned forward.

  Harry looked passively at Griswold. “You’ve heard of the True Ones?”

  Jennings answered. “Sure, but that was a long time ago and the Corporation has never run across them again, at least to my knowledge.”

  “You’re right about that,” said Harry. “The little buggers haven’t made an appearance since our first encounter with them. What you don’t know is that we’re the people who experienced that encounter.”

  “Well, then I guess that explains your obsession with it,” Jennings said, unimpressed by anything coming from someone with a kitzloc infection.

  Harry continued. “The Tec’Lissir visited Mirabel in the past. Just as you, they were tolerated for a time but when ancient territorial encroachment boundaries were breached, the kitzloc forced them to leave.”

  “Tec’Lissir?”

  “That’s the real name for their race,” Harry explained. “They prefer to call themselves the True Ones. In any case, essentially the translation says the same thing.”

  “How do you know about their visit to Mirabel?” asked Kathleen.

  “I… remember it.”

  “Was your kitzloc host alive the last time the Tec’Lissir visited?”

  “Yes.”

  “When was that?”

  “About three thousand years ago.”

  Griswold stood and spoke in a deep growl, “Oh, horseshit. This is a waste of time.” With that, he strode from the room and made his way out of the truck.

  “Yeh, you even had me going there for a minute,” said Jennings. “You can really commit to a story, can’t you?”

  Harry said nothing in reply until a ripple passed through his holographic image. Then he said, “Sorry, I have to go. Minerva tells me she has my new simulation ready. I need to try it out.” Harry’s image vanished from the room.

  Bobbi said, “How did the kitzloc make the True Ones leave?”

  Kathleen looked at Fagen. “What simulation?”

  Fagen shook his head and turned to Minerva’s image. She nervously shifted her weight from one holographic foot to another. “What simulation is he talking about?”

  “Well, I didn’t think it would do any harm and we can learn so much before we get there.”

  “Wait a minute. What’s the simulation for?”

  “You know, a lair, a kitzloc lair, but that’s not what Harry calls it.”

  “What does Harry call it?” Kathleen asked.

  “He calls it a ‘Crevah.’ But the way he says it, it’s more like a place of reverence like it’s a church or a holy place. I don’t get it yet.”

  “I sure don’t get it,” agreed Jennings, yawning. “I’m going to turn in. We’ll be rollin’ before sunup. Good-night all.” He rose and made his way out. The Ellises echoed their good-nights and followed Jennings out.

  Once alone, Fagen confronted Minerva. “How could you allow the construction of a new simulator for Harry without discussing it with me first?”

  “I spoke to Bart and he said whatever pacified Harry was okay with him.”

  Fagen frowned.

  Minerva put her hands on her hips. “What should I have done, ask Tringl? Or maybe Arai has an opinion.”

  “Of course not. Never mind, maybe we can learn something. Keep me posted.”

  Minerva snapped to attention, clicked her heels together and gave a snappy salute before disappearing from view.

  Bobbi leaned close to Fagen. “Was it just me, or was Minerva acting a little weird?”

  “Weird all right. At least, weirder than usual.”

  *

  Tringl and Arai did not completely understand what was wrong with Harry. Still, with his innate sense of Harry’s need for psychic stability, Tringl faithfully remained at his side. The Bedoran primate, Arai, was there too, but Arai did not share Tringl’s abilities, so he tended to wander off. It wasn’t that Tringl understood more than Arai. It was simply that as a Malaaz tradesman, he wasn’t as inclined to seek out adventure. All the Malaaz really wanted to do was sleep and eat and Tringl fell into that routine naturally. In fact, the confines of the spacecraft caused Tringl to escape more into sleep. Although large, Tringl would curl up on the floor beside Harry when Harry remained stationary for lengths of time. Minerva would form the floor beneath him to a form-fitting cushion and Tringl would drop to sleep in seconds.

  Tringl’s constant proximity to Harry had a calmative effect on Harry’s behavior. He was, as Kathleen said, more like himself. There was a scientific explanation, Minerva knew, but it was beyond her programming as well as her experience. It was difficult enough to keep up with the assortment of DNA strands she had to process in order to medicate Harry.

  Presently, Harry was plugged in to the new simulator, or as Minerva preferred to call it, the beta version. It was a good illusion, Harry had to admit, except Minerva hadn’t gotten the proper odor for the place. He started at the entrance, which was marked by two boulders leaning against one another, leaving a large open space at their base. Harry walked inside without ducking his head. The cave sloped down into darkness reminding Harry of the last and only time he had ever entered such a place. As he progressed, the slope increased and the sides of the tunnel became slick and oily until at last he slid down the last twenty meters into the first chamber. He shined a light on the walls, ceiling, and floor but there was nothing unusual to see, simply a cave with a semi-damp floor. Off to his left and right were two other tunnels, both slanting down farther into darkness. Which to take, Harry mused? It didn’t matter, in either case there wouldn’t be any creatures lurking because Minerva didn’t have enough information to create a kitzloc simulation. Oh, she could have dreamed up something, but it would have been all wrong so she didn’t bother with it. Harry chose the tunnel on the left.

  The hole was smaller than the entrance but still contained plenty of room. It was angled at a steeper incline so Harry kept his balance by extending his arms and pressing on the sides as he slid and stepped below. He could not help but remember the last time he’d been in such a place and an involuntary shiver ran up his spine even though he knew it was nothing but simulated cavescape above and below.

  *

  “Minerva?”

  “Yes?”

  “I just had a thought.”

  “Well, imagine that.”

  Fagen paused. Minerva had always been a bit of a wise ass, but lately the frequency of her quips had increased. “I was wondering about the simulator you built for Harry.”

  “Yes?”

  “By any chance, did Harry assist with the programming?”

  “I couldn’t have done it without his help. I mean, after all, he’s been inside a kitzloc home and I haven’t, so…”

  “Did you give him access to the systems?”

  “Ummm…”

  “You did, didn’t you? Minerva, how could you be so shortsighted?”

  “Edward, I’m sure everything is all right.”

  “Oh yeah? How can you be sure of anything Harry does? He could wreck you and where would th
at leave us? I’ll tell you where – stranded on a planet on the inner rim. We might never get out of here except in the brig of a Corporation starship, ironically enough made from your basic drive design!”

  Bobbi put a hand on Fagen’s arm but it wasn’t enough to calm him. Edward was on a roll and nothing was going to comfort him at the moment. He rarely got rattled; unfortunately it sounded as though Minerva had inadvertently put all their lives at risk, and that was reason enough. Fagen’s ears had turned bright red contrasting sharply with the gray hair at his temples.

  Fagen continued to berate Minerva. “How could you do this? Harry’s out of his mind. I left him for you to watch and now he’s put you at risk! It puts us all at risk!”

  Minerva vainly attempted to pacify him by reminding him of all the built-in safety systems and anti-hacking algorithms embedded in her systems.

  “He doesn’t need to hack his way in -- you gave him access!”

  “Harry is acting as normal as any of us. Tringl has had a huge effect on him. He’s sleeping at Harry’s feet right now. You should see for yourself, it’s so cute.”

  Fagen sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Are you feeling all right?”

  “Me?” Minerva replied. “Never better. In the pink, so to speak.”

  “Keep on eye on Harry. Run systems security checks, re-compile your basic OS if necessary…”

  “Edward, please don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”

  “I wish I were as confident as you.” Fagen leaned back and switched comms to private mode so Minerva couldn’t hear.

  “What are you going to do?” Bobbi asked.

  “I have to get Harry away from Minerva as soon as possible. I suppose I’ll bring him back here with us.”

  “Jennings won’t be happy about that.”

  “I’m not happy either but it looks like that’s the way it’s got to be.”

  *

  Like Gothic steeple arches overhead, stalactites stretched to the floor of the Crevah. Beyond that, Harry caught the shimmer of pooled water. He stepped forward, sampling the air. Before him was a copy of the omphalic embodiment of kitzloc knowledge and wisdom referred to as “the plot” by the kitzloc. To the uninitiated, the plot was simply a rock dais occupying the center of the space.

  He approached the column in the old manner of the kitzloc, carefully yet directly, stopping two meters from its base. Its top, a shallow concave bowl, was parallel to his shoulders. Within there should have been water in its basin, but there was none.

  “Minerva?”

  “I’m here.”

  Minerva stood to his right, wearing a spelunker’s outfit with a bright yellow custom helmet. Harry pointed at the plot. “There’s always water in it, and this texture of the rock isn’t quite right. It should be older looking, smoother. There’s no smell in here either.”

  “I tried, but olfactory programming goes to the pheromone level. If I knew how to do that, then I’d know more about how to repair your infection.” Minerva looked at the shimmering light at the farthest reaches of the cave. “You added the water.”

  “I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all. It’s a nice touch.”

  Harry and Minerva stared at the plot. “If we could program the odor, then we could program essence as well,” said Minerva.

  Harry took a step closer, reached out, and ran a hand along the side of the column. “That would be ideal, but it may not be necessary.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “As long as the simulation functions as intended, some of the more elusive details might be omitted.”

  “So, what is it going to do?”

  “You’ll see,” said Harry evasively.

  *

  The desert surrounding Boomtown was totally flat, as if it had been leveled by a thousand road crews. The abandoned mines were nothing more than shallow pits and darkened holes. In the shadows of one of the holes, something stirred. It stretched an enormous leg briefly into the starlight where it curled its talon-tipped toes. Dust floated from the darkness into the pale light hinting at a large weight moving to its feet. Upon exiting, it moved with blinding speed to another set of shadows where it observed and waited until it was satisfied no eyes or ears were upon it. Thus, it made its way from the abandoned mines.

  The kitzloc paused as the sound of machines reached its ears. The racket did not arise from those sitting in the midst of the abandoned human dwellings, but from others coming across the old lakebed. The kitzloc sniffed the air and smelled diesel fuel. Under that odor was the smell of man. The creature sniffed again. Three vehicles, ten men total. They approached from the opposite side of the town, so the kitzloc moved quickly to the shadows of a building. From there, it moved twice more in the span of thirty seconds to a place that had a good view. All the while, it felt sensor scans hitting its own receptors. It adjusted its exterior to redirect their nagging signals and lowered its body temperature to match its surroundings. Its color had changed to black the moment it had stepped from its resting place.

  The creature waited and watched. Two humans were nearby but the men remained unaware of its presence. They watched the area around the parked vehicles and one another. The kitzloc sensed they were blood kin, father and son. When the sound of the vehicles became loud enough for the humans to hear, the son signaled to the father. This seemed to cause some consternation on their part as father ran to son and an animated conversation ensued.

  Lights shined from the approaching vehicles, illuminating the tracks left by the first two arrivals earlier in the day. The kitzloc yawned and briefly considered contacting others of its species about this latest development but it wasn’t really necessary.

  The creature watched as the two humans split up again and took up concealed positions across from the parked vehicles.

  *

  The sound of the trucks split the tranquil silence. The lead truck had its roof pulled back and Luther Cross, wearing clear-lensed goggles, stood in the hole behind an M-71 mounted on a swivel. Via shortwave, he instructed the other trucks to follow his lead, convoy-style, into the town. He knew where Jennings would be and besides, the tracks led Luther straight to him. Boomtown was the last stop before No Man’s Land and it had been a year since anyone but Griswold had been out here. Griswold was with them, Luther knew, but that was okay, because Griswold was his man, that is, as much as Griswold was anybody’s man.

  They drove into town slowly, running scans with outdated equipment that revealed the two trucks in the center of town. Luther issued an order into his throat mic and, still hidden from view by decaying and collapsed structures, the convoy stopped. He instructed one man from each vehicle to get out and proceed forward on foot. The three men donned starlight shades and ran to the cover of the shadows.

  When they were in position, Luther signaled the vehicles to move forward again. With assorted rattles and shakes, the three converted pick-up trucks drove to Mickey’s old place where, as expected, they found the vehicles.

  Jennings and Fagen were waiting. They stood in the lights of Luther’s vehicles as the three pick-ups rolled in. Strapped to Jennings’ hip was a holstered .45 that looked as though it could have been a hundred years old. Hanging over his shoulder was a newer looking Vimbacher rifle capable of firing multiple exploding rounds or single action air plasma bursts. At first glimpse, Fagen appeared to have no weapons. On closer inspection, Luther spotted a small power pack attached to Fagen’s utility belt suggesting he had a beam weapon of some sort hidden on his person, probably at the small of his back since Fagen was facing him.

  Luther’s truck stopped six meters in front of the two. The other vehicles pulled up and stopped on either side with engines idling.

  “Evening, Luther.”

  “Evening, Gary.”

  “Nice night for a ride.”

  Luther looked up at the stars overhead. There wasn’t a cloud in sight. The first of Mirabel’s two moons had yet to make an appearance so the night sky was fairl
y blazing with stars.

  “Had a little problem following you through the dunes but once things flattened out, your trail was so well-marked even Little Martha could have followed you.”

  “Who’s Little Martha?” murmured Fagen to Jennings.

  “Blind prostitute back in Jennings Bank,” he explained. To Luther, he said, “So what brings you all the way out here?”

  Luther sighed and shifted his hefty frame inside the machine gun’s swivel frame. “We’ve got problems.”

  “Everybody’s got problems,” Jennings replied.

  “Yes, but yours have become considerably worse.”

  “How’s that, Luther?”

  “You’ve got an unsolved murder on your hands and you take off out here with your new friends. It looks suspicious, Gary. People want answers. They’re looking to me to get them.”

  “You talk as if you’re running things now.”

  Luther placed his hand on the gun and moved it until it pointed at Jennings’ chest.

  “I am.”

  “Ah, I see. You’re staging a coup, like in the old days when a leader faltered and his closest rival stepped up to take advantage.”

  “Something like that.”

  “Then I suppose now would be a good time to tell you there are numerous weapons of assorted types ready to fire on you and your men at any moment.”

  Luther shook his head sadly. “Gary, it doesn’t have to come down to violence. Besides, at the first shot one of my three hidden snipers will make sure you don’t walk away from this.”

  Jennings suddenly laughed and looked at Fagen. “You know what we have here? We’ve got a genuine stand-off right here in front of old Mickey’s Pub. I’m sorry he’s not alive to see this. It’s the sort of thing he’d eat up with a spoon.”

  The elder Ellis’ voice came through Jennings’ hidden earpiece. “I’ve got two of the dudes spotted. The third went off to your right somewhere.” Jennings glanced at Fagen to insure he’d heard the same message. Fagen nodded almost imperceptibly and he peered into the shadows across the street, straining to catch a glimpse of movement from the third man.

  A mechanical whirring suddenly arose from Fagen’s truck as a ramp slid out and down followed by double doors opening. In the space stood an active simulcon. The sound of half a dozen firing bolts clicked through the air almost simultaneously as Luther’s men prepared for combat.