Preacher Man

by r. a. Ben Miller

If a miner was alive at the end of his or her contract, these credit vouchers were converted to Imperial credits for transport off planet back home. The miners could not even send money home until the contracts were completed. The rare bit of good news was how huge sums were sent off world in the unlikely case that the miner survived.

  Because of the diversity of stores in the market place, a miner could buy anything that any creature could want with those vouchers. The mining company had trucks running up and down the canyon nonstop to keep the fort stocked so the miners wouldn't take their business elsewhere. Females or servicing males of any species could be found or simulated at the pleasure dome if one had enough credits.

  Only military flying vehicles could were allowed to pass over the canyon district. The Imperion knew that assault troops could be transported as well as goods and they didn't want any ugly surprises.

  Clearing his mind, Zeer stretched out his arms and in a clear Emerish tenor, began the songs of Even Song. Miners and tradesmen bowed their heads and sang the tunes as best as they could remember. Some sang the old songs in various versions of Standard. Some sang in their native tongues, each as they had learned them. They all knew that they were called to sing heart felt and true. The noises of the entire bazaar became silent as all listened to the beauty of the moment. In between songs, Zeer looked about. He saw a smile here or a tear their even in the tough hearted business people. All seemed glad to have a taste of home and hearth, even for a moment.

  Paris tickled the back of his mind, "That was lovely, dear. Thee sings well, but, now, ma wee babes need foods, Preacher Man."

  "I gotta finish up here, so take Dad with you shopping. Spend the credit vouchers first, sweets. They're no good off this base, anyways. The Quallium we'll store for lean pickings. Have fun."

  "These forts are all the same, laddie. The fort regs wouldn't allow the exporting of Quallium. Getting the stuff out of the fort'll be yer best trick ever."

  "Then, getting our stash past the millions of bandidos between here and Space Port City would be the next."

  "Aye, lad. The canyon birds feast daily on the bones of the one's who tried to escape and dinna make it."

  Paris cut in, "And we’ve heard tell of stories how the prison blaster eats the poor fools that the blasted Frogger bastards catch tryin' ta smuggle that stuff off the fort grounds."

  Zeer was never distracted long by these chats over the wealth. He knew they had a pile gradually building in the secret holds built under the floorboards of the traveler (originally put there for transporting the Books.) Zeer was glad to give copies of the Book out to any soul desiring the Word. It just made more room for storing Quallium.

  Zac added, "I'll go with you, me darlin little fur ball. I wish ta stretch me legs."

  "Okay.Wait you have no legs, ya silly buzz gwump!"

  "Ohhhh, the cruelest knife is the sharpest, sez the Word…"

  "Come on, grampa. I know, I’ll take ya right by the pleasure dome. You can go haunt them buggers fer a change. Maybe you can get into somebody's simulation and really give them a thrill. Let them see what a real pirate looks like."

  “That costs too much.”

  Zeer cut in, “Yer not thinkin’, Dad. It’s free now. Yer dead. Who’ll know?”

  "Aye, good idear, lassie. They’ll think I some kind a bug in their program. They’ll go nuts trying ta fix me. I like it. I like it."

  "Good idea sweets. That oughta keep him busy for a coupla days, eh wot..."

  “I’ll have ya all ta meself…”

  “You can count on that.”

  For the next few weeks, life was steady and dull. Zeer found pleasure in the simple services held twice daily in the plaza outside of their bus. Morning Song or Morgen tide was filled with the miners coming out from 3rd shift. After the service, it became their custom for the miners to go home to bed and for he and Paris would have their morning “constitutional.”

  Coming home, he would avoid the heat of the day reading in the air conditioned office inside the bus. He studied hard to be a better Servant and to meet the needs of his new friends. He found the fort library was a treasure trove of information. He studied mining, Tarran geography, and anthropology tapes about the varied races that made up the polyglot society of Emeswan.

  Life at the bazaar was a mad house most days. The crazier it got, the more people felt lost. The beauty of his voice and the passion for love that filled his heart drew increasing numbers to his services. Every open space through out the plaza became filled. The hardy miners loved his increasing ability to share the peace and joy of a life lived in the Master’s hand. Miracles were experienced and shared within the growing congregation.

  Within a moon, his end of week “Shabbat Song” service was viddy cast through out the planet. Long haulers timed their arrivals to stand and share testimonies of how the blessings from his services were being felt even across what the Askirabim, the natives, call the Far Reaches, the deepest desert past Space Port City.

  People would still find a way to get into his prayers. Some days, they simply slipped notes into the prayer slots in the door of the bus. Coming in from their early morning stroll, Zeer retrieved them and he and Paris read them on the table. Somehow, increasingly valuable jeweled stones of Quallium were always found in the bottom of the box as well.

  "Get the candle, sweets."

  "Aye, Preacher man, got it right here..." she thought back to him.

  As instructed in the Rote o’ Kirk, Zeer cleaned the table and set the candle in the center, Paris lit the candle and sat by her her husband. Most days, Zac prayed with them. They held hands and prayed over each request. As they read each piece, it was burned in the candle. Touching the flame, the cheap lexite flashed and disappeared. The last one was asking the Brother to please come this afternoon to gather a new baby. On the lexite were instructions to the apartment of the seeker.

  "These trips generally pay well in jewels and information, sonny"

  "I remember, Da'...we have enough Q, fer now…its The Work, too. I find great joy in the Work!”

  “Aye, I remember that part. It is grand work, isn’t it?"

  Zeer realized for the thousandth time, it was becoming the beauty of the work that drove him now. The manuals had spoken of the value of the day-to-day mingling with a flock to create the oneness so necessary for proper worship. The dusty books had not given a clue how much he would love it.

  "Here, love..." she pressed a sack and a water bottle into his giant hands."I made this up fer Thee. Birthing can take a while."

  He kissed her gently, "Thee."

  "And Thee, ma sweet, take care, now."

  “Aye, safe as a babe in arms.”

  “Just hurry back, buzz gwump. I’ll keep a bit of dinner fer thee.”

  Laughing, he put up his cowl to block the sun and headed off following the directions on the scrap of lexite down winding back alleys. As he walked, he wondered what he would find. Most likely, he expected to find the miner’s whole family cramped into a room designed for a single person. He knew from talking to some of the locals that miners came here for the chance to retire wealthier than they could imagine. What they found was danger and back breaking toil. Under these terrible conditions, most of them died here and the fort kept their inheritance money as "burial fees".

  He found himself at a moldy door to a basement. By the darkness and wetness of the location, he knew he was going to meet a Ssarrian family. As expected, the door was opened by a tiny green lizard-woman. Ssarrians are slightly more than three feet tall with a snout that dominated their face. Her snout split into a smile filled with small, sharply pointed teeth. She held out the pointer of her three fingered hand, “Fasser! It is so good to see you. You have made it jussst in time.”

  He touched her pointer finger with his pointer and middle fingers in the Ssarrian hand shake. “Good, Sister… a blessing on your nest and all who enter in!”

  The woman and the other Ssarrians bowed their heads, “O main!”


  He felt lucky that he had just read a long article on the Ssarrians. The article said that the sun light and heat of day were too much for most Ssarrians, so, he had seen few out at his services. He had also heard that the Ssarian size and temperament was perfect for mining. They loved the cold and damp of deep mining. Their small size allowed for smaller, cheaper mine shafts. They could mine eighteen hours a day and never complained as long as they were kept wet and fed. Both genders made good miners so the mining companies justified hauling both sexes through space. Having whole families together made for less stress and longer contracts.

  This apartment, true to form, was dark, damp, and musty. Ssarrians prefer the lowest, darkest basement apartments where water would collect. The mining company was able to rent them spaces that dry landers would not go into. The Ssarrians lived in places that couldn't even be used for storage because they were so damp.

  There was only one chair. Ssarians sat on their tails in a three-point stance. The chair must be for tail-less visitors. The whole building smelled of mold and fish eaten raw. A blanket was hung on a bit of cord across the room to make some privacy.

  The oldest male was seated in the center of the room, "Do come in, Fassser. Please accept our humble hospitality."

  They touched fingers as expected, “Has the child arrived?”

  “Not yet, Fasser, any tick now.”

  “I wish ta bless the mother’s effort.”

  “As you wish. She is a bit frightened. It is our first grandchild in this nest.” The male led him to edge of the blanket, but, went no farther, pointing the way for Zeer. Zeer went past the blanket. There were several females gathered around a younger female laying on her side on a pile of leaves and grass piled by a black water pond in the lowest corner of the basement.

  Zeer moved to the bedside. He stood at the head and spoke a mumbled prayer. Then, he moved to the tail and did the same. Finally he knelt in the squishy loam to address the young female, "A blessing on thee, sister. How may I help you?"

  The young female said nothing as they bathed her face and rubbed her tail. The oldest female spoke behind him, "We will bring out a child any minute. We want her gathered into the Masters hands."

  Zeer turned too face the Nest Mother, "That is wonderful. I’ll be glad to!"

  He was interrupted by a short scream from the girl. Zeer turned just in time to watch the midwife administer a smack to the tail of a tiny dripping new born lizard. The room fell silent to listen to the bleating of the newborn babe.

  "Ahhhh, there is the child, now."

  "Mother..."

  Zeer was handed a blanket. The baby was placed gently in it and quickly wrapped up. Just as quickly, another pair of older Ssarrian females wadded the green blood soaked bedclothes. They sat the young female up against a wall, leaning on some pillows. Her green eyes were closed and her breathing was now even. The fact that she was sweating in the cool of this basement showed her effort in the last few ticks. A short fore lock of yellow hair was plastered to the side of her face.

  In his arms, the newborn baby was sucking on a freshly defrosted trey fish. Never in his life had Zeer held any kind of baby. The small bundle weighed no more than a pound. The babe snuggled into his armpit and was fast asleep in an instant.

  "Thee mussst be a goot fassser. Babies is comforted by a true fasser."

  Zeer was thrilled and embarrassed. He felt awkward. To cover this, he began the intonations of the gathering. In their hissy way, the others sang the Gathering Song with him. When he left the grandmother gave him a box. Acting unconcerned (Ssarians are generous to a fault) he pocketed the payment and followed one of the sons (or was it a daughter, Zeer could not tell them apart) back through the pitch-black streets to his home.

  "That took a long time. Paris and Zac call you. We got no answer."

  "Was it. It seemed but the blink of an eye!" Zeer entered his home and was suddenly very tired. He had learned to shut out their nearly constant patter. It was the only way that he could get anything done.

  "Aye, laddie, you're right. This preacher man stuff can be a totally consuming."

  "These people need me. It is a great feeling." he thought back, distracted. Zeer went to the table.

  Paris examined the box he put on the table. “Ohhh, pretty box…”

  “Aye…” He took the box out of her hands and turned it looking at the intricate carving. Then, he sat down wearily. He fingered the box absently. No one had ever needed him before. It was a good feeling. Zeer enjoyed the work of tending his "lambs" as the training books called it.

  "Open it, silly man."

  “Soon, sweets. Let me catch ma breath. That building was so damp and cold, then the streets were so hot I canna hardly breath yet. Those people are the only people on this whole stinking world that need their heaters on in the summer."

  "Poor darlin'. Here, have a drink, me darling man."

  "Thankee, sweets.“ He took off his shirt, drank a cool one, and turned his attention to the intricately carved box. She rubbed his shoulders and hummed a mother’s song.

  "Even if there's nought in it, laddie, ya kin sell that box fer a good price."

  "Aye, Dad." He said absently, turning the box in his hands. He opened it and sat back speechless. Inside was a greenish blue mound.

  "What's dat, Preacher man? They pay you with rocks?"

  "A rock? No, sweets. I'm no gemologist, but I've seen this once before. Unless I miss my guess, that's verdollium. It's worth a million times by carat weight of quallium. “

  “Wow, that’s incredible!”

  ”Aye, lassie, a gram of pure Quallite gives off enough energy to power a small ship for nearly a cycle. A gram of verdollium will power a city for a decade. Those Ssarians must have known what they found. I think they have given it to me to dispose of. If this gets out, this fort is dead meat to the big drivers. Wars have been fought over this stuff. If we dinna sell, they'll come to take it fer sure."

  He put it away and ate quietly. Paris just touched him, rubbing her hand across his shoulders whenever she went by doing her little chores, humming softly, giving him comfort. She was rounding out nicely. He looked at her closely, "How much longer, sweets?"

  "Coupla weeks, maybe, I can’t say."

  Zac snorted, "Great! Then there'll be little kittens all over the place."

  "What you care, old fart. Grandfather ghost no needs room."

  "I need my peace, though. Yellin' brats will be everywhere. Hmmmph. The noise alone will kill me!"

  “I’d kill ya meself if’n ya weren’t dead.”

  “No fur ball piece of fluff could ever catch me.”

  “Enough already!”