Preacher Man

by r. a. Ben Miller

Zeer heard a muffled meow. He smiled as it brought him back to the present. "What?"

  "Paris be good. Paris wants out."

  "If'n ya'd let me drive this bus," he said, "I could get us ta MS-1 where we can find some jewels and buy our way off’n this planet and get you back to Paron. We could start over with enough money to become a legitimate Preacher man and retire from this travelin' life. "

  "Preacher man come to Paris! Paris wants out! Paris be good."

  His father spoke ignoring the cat, "You canna retire, bucko."

  "Hmmm… Back so soon, Dad. Well, I prefer live company, thanks."  Zeer reached over and hit a switch that unlocked the door to the sleep room.

  Paris slipped out to the driver's couch, hugging the floor, ready to jump away to avoid another grab. Zeer loved the look of her. She stood barely four feet tall. While she was tiny, she was perfectly proportioned to any humanoid female. Watching her, it was easy for him to see why early explorers of her home planet had named these people cats. When she moved like this, she looked just more like a cat. She settled in and rubbed up against Zeer as he was driving, "Paris no like sleepy room alone. Missy snuggles."

  He rubbed her behind one ear, "Don't you ever get enough snuggles."

  "Not from Preacher Man. Want babies."

  "We canna have babies..." he said as sternly as possible.

  "No?" she said coyly, licking his cheek.

  "No! We've got too much to do."

  "Too late, I think... Babies coming." Saying that very softly, she put her head on his lap and purred herself to sleep.

  He looked down at her beautiful, sleeping face. He shook his head and laughed softly.

  "Well...You're takin' that bit o’ news well..."

  “What? She’s joshin’ me…”

  "Cor, me young stud. Just look at ya! Now you've gone and made kittens with this fur ball."

  "Stow it, Dad. I'm tryin' ta think. 'Sides, she's no cat. Paronese are humanoids, same as us. She's as much woman as any. She's just got more fur on her, that's all."

  "Would ya just listen to the lad. A little cat magic and he's passin out genetics lessons. You’re Emerish and that's the best there is, laddie buck. Yer ma was Emerish. Yer pa was Emerish. Ya otter stick ta yer own. Women is women and pets is pets."

  Zeer looked down at the sleeping form. "Hmmph,... pets...," He chuckled. He ran his hand down her well-formed arm, feeling the velvety soft fur. It was a golden red. There were yellowish tips at the ends of the short hairs. She looked like walking fire in direct sunlight. Clothes were wasted on these women. So, they never wore any.

  She stirred under his hand and looked at him. Those cat green eyes with yellow centers had thrown him at first. Now, they seemed as normal to him. "Preacher Man wanna play?"

  "No, me darlin’ girl… Preacher man wanna drive. Got to find Emeswan, our new home…"

  "Mmmmm… Home be good… good for babies."

  "Paris..." his voice getting stern, "dinna start wi' me!" 

  She smiled a toothy smile, licked his cheek with a dry, scratchy tongue, and lay back down, purring a little Par cat song softly as she returned to sleep.

  While she slept, he noticed that for the last few hours, they had been going up at a mild angle. Now, they were climbing into some foothills. The road went into a pass up and over and they started down just as the notes on the map said. At the correct distance from the pass, he turned to follow the barman’s marked roads from the map, off in the distance a scar on the desert plain began to grow. From this distance away, the canyon looked barely wider than a hair. On the hilly terrain, he would see it and lose it as he went up and down. The top of each rise would show a bigger and bigger canyon as he dropped down into the canyon.

  Zeer drove into the sundown. At dark, he pulled under into a trackless side road. Following the notes he and the barman had made, he pulled into a hidden cave under an overhang of Tarran moss growing over a rock ledge. He was warned not to drive in the dark on these trails. He pulled the moss back over the opening hiding them from passing banditos. It was cool in the cave.  "Why you go here, Preacher Man? "

  "These hills are full of men willing to steal what they cannot or will not mine, me darlin."

  "Money corrupts the gentlest of souls, sayeth the Master's Word."

  "That's rich, Dad. Now yer quotin' scriptures to me."

  "I quoted 'em to ye all me life, Bucko. "

  "Problem is, you never listened."

  "Problem is, I dinna duck fast enough that night in Ol' Quids..."

  "Aye, but, a house blaster's a nasty weapon and hard to duck away from."

  "Preacher man...Paris hungry."

  "Then, go cook sumpthin'. Preacher Man hungry, too."

  "Sure. I do everything for you. You no do nutting for me."

  "The manifest says that you are the cook and house keeper, so…Cook! Don' talk!"

  Paris began fussing with the food processors, "Don' talk...don' talk. You just wanna mumbles to father ghost... no talka Paris."

  "What?" Zeer sat unsteadily with a plop. "What are you sayin', lass? You kin hear him too."

  She sat on his lap and took his face softly in her paws, "You are one silly hooman...Paronese people do mind talk before earther mans make fire."

  Zeer shook his head, "Mind talk..? What kinda foolishness are ya sayin' now?"

  "Mind talk... No speaks with mouth...Speaks mind to mind... like you and father ghost."

  "Wait a tick..." He jumped up and began stomping around the truck, "That means...You knew about me all along..."

  "Yep..."

  He got in her face, "And you never told anyone?"

  She smiled mysteriously, "Nope."

  "You know I'm na the real Preacher Man ? "

  She waved her paw in dismissal, "Not true. Even from first moment, I see better heart in you than old Preacher mans.”

  “Oh, Paris.”

  “Troof…I see you with these people… You are not fake… Old Preacher Man was a fake... Him not serve the Master like you... Him just couldn't keep no other job...”

  Zeer laughed, “Really..?”

  “Many times him get drunk and try to beat Paris...

  “Bloody bugger…”

  “Aye… And, nasty old man no give sweet snuggles... Him just want house worker only...Him was bad man…”

  “I see that…”

  “Here all around times, you at least try to be a good Preacher Man. Old Preacher man just wanted to get off Paron."

  Zeer sat down again heavily, putting his face down into his hands. He shook his head. "All this time, you knew everything that was happening. You pretended to be stupid and go along with me. I canna believe it..."

  "No act stupid... I talks... You… you silly buzz gwump… you no listen. Like all mens, I think…"

  Paris knelt on the floor in front of the bigger man. She took his head and pulled it to her furry neck. "Paris was berry lonely. When new Preacher man come and give good snuggles, I pick you for new mate."

  "Then, you knew the old Preacher man was dead after all."

  "Paris knew... Paris kill old man for beatings."

  "You... killed him? "

  "Not means to. Him thinks Par Cats not good as Earthers. All times gets drunks, try to beats Paris... Paris hit man with cook pot. Try to stop mans from beatings Paris..."

  "I see... I'll certainly not underestimate you again. You certainly are a dangerous wee beastie."

  Not to be out done, his father has to chime in, "An' dinna forget it, me son. Who ever named women the fairer sex was drinkin' jet fuel."

  Zeer ignored his dad. He pulled Paris up onto his lap. "I'm still pretty stunned how easily you got me in the sack. Here I was, thinkin' I was foolin' you and you was foolin' me."

  She laughed merrily, "Was easy, too..."

  "Hmmmph..." He pushed her off on to the floor. She climbed right back onto his lap.

  She rubbed her furry head on his chest, "I knew you like Paris right away."

  Zeer
gave her a hard smack on the rump. "Fine, a confession time is over. Preacher Man still hungry..." He dumped her onto the floor again, "So ... Cook!"

  "SSSSSSSSS..." She turned and swiped at him with her claws out. "No forgets what I did to old Preacher Man, Mister..."

  Zeer, seeing the swipe coming out of the corner of his eye, ducked easily, "Dinna mistake me for any old man, lassie. The lines on my face were just drawn on...they're not real..."

  When she whirled around again, he tackled her around the waist. They rolled together into the sleep room. The floor, upon feeling their presence, inflated to make a soft place. She lay on top pinning his arms, "No, thee are not an old man; still...thee are sooo easy to get into sack. All thee thinks of is snuggles, snuggles, snuggles. When am I gonna cook? "

  In a lightning move, he reversed their positions, "I'll let ya' know, me darlin'... I'll let ya' know."

  "Okay...mmmmm" and she pressed her face into the crook of his shoulder, purring with anticipation. Their dinner would have to wait for them. They were busy. Both suns were down before they sat down to eat. They sat in the same chair and fed each other bits of food.

  They took a short walk to stretch their legs and admire the last rays of the twin setting suns. Zeer stretched his arms langorously, “Let’s turn in early. I’m beat…”

  Soon, they were lying like two spoons, he was in front and she was in back. He turned over and she moved easily into his embrace. He held her sadly and said, "Par, I wish that I could talk mental with you. Earthers are so limited."

  "Preacher mans can do."

  "No, baby... no can do."

  "Can talk mental with father ghost, can talk mental with me!" she said firmly.

  "Aye, lad, it's a gift that I've always used. They sent robots into Quids or I da knowed they was a comin'."

  "Dad... Go haunt someone else tonight. This is private."

  "Aye...it'll be nice ta have a pleasure dome ta haunt."

  They laughed as he left them. Par took his face in her velvet, soft hands. Her green and yellow eyes grew before him. She began to rub his face softly. "Here, darlin’..." she continued rubbing, "Lay quiet..." He closed his eyes. "Let yer mind drift... Think of Paris."

  Then, like a burst of lights in his head, a voice soft and warm deep within his mind moved his mind rather than spoke to him. It shocked him like a cold hand on a warm back. "Preacher Man can do."

  "Yes...yes!!!" he said.

  "Dinna say it! Think it! "

  "Yes..." he thought. The connection was just as electric. They spent most of that night sharing their memories directly with each other. He showed her the things he had done and the places that he had been.

  She was thrilled by his boyhood memories of the Emerald Planet. They shared his mother's love. They cried together over the loss of her. He shared with her the joy and warmth of a large family at a St. Pat's Festival.  When he hated school as a boy, she hated school right with him. When he triumphed at futbol as a young man, she shared his triumphs. They cried again at the loss and destruction of the planet and his family during the war.

  "I love yer Mum, sweets."

  "Aye, she was a peach... Hey!"

  "What, me darlin'...?"

  "How's come ya talk like me now?"

  "When I mentally talk with ya, I use your brain's speecher. Thee are hearing me in your own language."

  "Then you could've talked fine with the Earthers that found yas way back when."

  "Aye, the Earthers wouldna listen."

  "I read the tapes. Your people were said to be a stupid lot with no language nor civilization. When we found yas living in the jungle, those early explorers thought yas were all half-wild."

  "Yeouwr... That makes me so mad." Suddenly, his mind burst with clear, bright images of Paron. They were her memories and all of their history handed down from the Keepers of the Rote.

  When the Strangers had first arrived among the Paronians, the natives had tried to converse with the Earthers. The Earther minds were very open and easy to read; but two-way communication was impossible.

  "I'm afraid that we have a long history of arrogance..."

  "Aye, Darlin'...The Earthers simply would not listen. What images got through were considered to be bad dreams or space sickness and the people were sent home."

  "Typical..."

  "The concept of spoken language was so limiting and foreign to us that nearly a hundred cycles were required to come to an understanding among our Elders to give up fighting against it. From that point, we tried to do anything that we could to get them to upgrade conditions and get better care from these Earthers who controlled their planet. We were tired of being hunted for sport or treated like slaves."

  "When did it get better..?"

  "When the Sanser Imperium secured title to Paron during one of it's "entitlements", they wanted to show how enlightened they were regarding the treatment of us and gave us full citizenship if they would learn to speak Standard at a certain level. They set up "jungle outpost" schools and all Paronese children were required to attend. I was a student when I met Rone Taflick. He had asked me to accompany him on a short trip to a nearby planet for a couple of days."

  "Sounds like fun..."

  "That's what I thought...I had heard about space and thought it would be interesting to take a short trip.

  "That short trip has lasted two cycles so far, me darlin. Are ya ready ta go home yet?"

  "Until the last few months with you, Zeer, I had been so sorry that I had ever left school. Now, I think I'll stay a little longer. Maybe I’ll just stay until I'm tired of ya."

  "Funny girl..."

  Freed of the need for language, they communicated whole images rather than words. At some point, their bodies must have fallen asleep; but the sharing went on until the morning alarm brought them back to the present. Sitting at the table for breakfast, he thought to her, "I love thee, Paris MacTarn. Now we are truly wed."

  The next day, Zeer drove through the morning hours aiming for what looked like a black scar on the face of a flat range of mountains. Near midday, they topped a ridge and saw the town spread out in a little valley. Slowly, as they worked their way down the switchback trails, the circle of dots down below became forms and then houses and mining buildings. Even from a half a day's trip away, the terraplast walls around the Mining fort could be seen clearly. Flags of the Imperion Knighthood flew from the walls. A faded road sign said MS-1, 100 klicks.

  Zeer smiled, "Found it..."

  Paris clapped, “Finally we can have a home.”

  "Aye, laddie, now can ye sell yer self."

  Zeer was excited as they dropped over the edge of the last hill and Purgatory Valley spread before them. They pulled off and looked at the panorama. Zeer held the Book of Tarra and read to Paris, “Look how the Purgatory River comes out of those canyons off that way?”

  “Yes…”

  “See how it splits there into the Greater and Lesser branches,”

  “Yes.”

  He pointed to the far side, “There. See how the Lesser Purgatory River, hardly more than a stream, passes into the fort on one side and emerges from the other side to reform the river at the bottom of the valley.”

  He stared silently at the fort on the far side of the valley. This side of the valley was a gentle slope down to the valley floor. The far wall was several hundred meters high. The Maintenance Station had been founded in a natural cleft of the canyon wall. There were blasters set up on the top of the cliff that protected half of the valley. A busy highway, which looked tiny from this distance, coursed out of the canyon and down it, following the river into the sunset.

  Because there was water here, it was green. “See how green it is, Par… It looks weird after two weeks in the deserts and mountains

  Zeer analyzed the fort, "Looks about 10 meter’s high ta me, Dad."

  "Aye, and more than a solid meter thick, too..."

  Zeer reviewed what he had learned from the info packets in his orders. The Holy Roman
Imperium still maintained a Foreign Legion for their Knight's of the Realm. The Legion's bloody history of thousands of cycles did not detract from the original desert fort designs.

  "Look like antiblaster walls ta you, laddie?"

  "Aye, dad. They be serious here, I reckons. "

  "Watch yerseff..."

  "At least you've nothin' ta fear this trip."

  "Right ya are, son. I' ve still got you to worry on."

  Par cat stirred on his lap. "Why Preacher Man mumbles so much. Yer wakin' up the babies."

  "What babies?"

  She framed her stomach, "These babees silly man, why you no listen."

  "Babies! Oh, will ya no hush woman. I gotta concentrate."

  "Now, aint this sweet. Did ya come here ta steal or screw around, laddie buck?"

  “Neither… I, Sir, am a genuine Breather of the Master’s Word…”

  “And I am a Par cat’s arse.” Said the old ghost.

  Paris put her hand over his mouth and startled him by mentally joining the conversation, "Buzz off... old goat."

  "So, the fur ball speaks. I was a speakin' ta me own son or has the cat got yer tongue, too, along wi’ assorted other organs, me lad."

  An exasperated," Da’..." was all that Zeer could muster at such an old joke turned so well.

  Paris fell over laughing at the joke. Zeer headed forward, mumbling to himself, "Just what I need. Two lovers of foul humor. I'll never have any peace," Zeer resumed driving toward their destination.

  Paris and his dad spent the rest of the afternoon trying to come up with the worst puns that they could. "Oh well. At least yaz aint fightin'," was Zeer's only contribution.

  He concentrated on driving and noting where the hidden guard posts were in case he needed to make a run for it. After supper, just outside the walls, they stopped. "We'll be safe here..." He pulled along the wall into a line of trucks parked for the night.

  Suddenly very solemn, Paris took his hand and led him to the table, "Paris loves Zeer. Mates is mates. Eat." he heard her deep in his mind.

  "Do ya mean, then, lassie, that ya won’t leave me for the first rich miner that shakes his minin' poke at ya."

  "I dinna say that, bucko... "

  (Oh swell, now she's talkin' like the old man)

  "Paris would miss her Preacher Man. Mates is mates; but, money is money."

  Chapter 4