by Steve M.
“Tal, mother of Allor,” Pens replied. He heard the man laugh.
“It is important to my plans. She must die soon.”
“I have no interest in your plans, only your money,” came the reply.
“When will it happen?” asked Pens.
“The answer to that question will cost you your life. Do you still want an answer?”
“No. No,” replied Pens quickly, and he moved backwards from the curtain two steps.
“You only need to know that it will be soon. Before you bring all of the other regions under your control.”
How did his assassin know about their plans? An invisible man had listened to their planning. Who else knew of their plans? Would he sell the information to Ceros?
“How do I know that you won’t give Ceros advance warning?” Pens asked.
“You don’t. But I will tell you this: you know I am not from Earth 7. And the interests I represent want the Cult of Allor to be victorious. Believe it or not, it doesn’t matter. It is fact.”
“But how do I know if I can trust you?” Pens asked.
There was no answer. Pens repeated the question. After repeating it a second time he pushed aside the curtain.
He was alone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Demos stood in front of his commanders. They were split into two groups. He addressed the group on his right first.
“Fast control of the roadways is one of the keys to our success. So when you ride, don’t let your men and women get distracted by the opportunity to plunder. That is not our mission, and they must know there will be punishment for insubordination. Control of the roads is your mission. No one with weapons must be allowed on the roads. Search them all and let them know that they will be safe from bandits. If you encounter bandits, thieves, or highwaymen, hang them from the trees where they can be seen by all.”
Demos turned to his left.
“You men and women will go into the cities and towns of the Ceros. It is your role to remain hidden. If you are close to Pyramos you will see the blast. This will be your cue. If you are too far away to see the blast, look for the Lord Allor traveling the sky. From the ground it will look like a ball of flame high in the sky. Most of you have seen him travel before. Then begin your attack. It is important that your teams target the barracks of the police and the administrative offices first. Some of you also have the local temples to attack as well. Do this right after you destroy the police barracks and the administrative offices.
“After the Lord Allor flies the sky, he will go to the edge of the black zone that was Pyramos. He and Princess Canto will heal the wounded among the survivors.”
“Why?” asked Captain Dewson, a man Demos had flagged for being the smartest of his captains.
“Why what?”
“Why heal the people he just tried to destroy?” asked Dewson.
“We want to destroy the Cult of Ceros,” said Demos. “Our battle is not with their followers. It’s just that our weapon doesn’t know the difference between a priest and a person.” Several of the commanders snickered.
“What about slaves? Ten percent are slaves,” asked Dewson.
“They are to be freed immediately,” replied Demos.
“What do we do if they want to take revenge on their masters?” asked Dewson.
“Then you give these men and women your sword and stand aside. They deserve no less than this.” This caused a few of the men to shout their agreement in the most understood manner they knew. “Death to Ceros,” they yelled.
“And if they don’t want to kill their masters? What then?” asked Dewson.
They weren’t expecting Allor to appear beside Demos, so there was an audible gasp from the assembled commanders when Allor appeared. He answered them in a loud, confident voice.
“All property of the master becomes property of the slave. The master is to be turned out and sent away from what was their home but is now the home of their former slaves.”
“And if they refuse to leave?” asked another commander.
“Then kill them,” replied Allor. “Many of you have had family taken as slaves. We’ve all heard how they are treated. Their limbs hacked off for the tiniest mistake. Their bodies used for pleasure without their consent. Their heads removed when they become too old for their tasks. What they have done is monstrous, and they should consider death to be a bargain payment for the debt they owe.
“Also make sure that everyone knows to come to the center of the town, the city, or the village at noon the next day. Pens and the priesthood will begin the conversion processes. Attendance is mandatory for everyone except the infirm. Those too sick to attend are excused. But any healthy persons found not in attendance or administering to the sick will be given a verbal warning. If they still don’t attend, get their name and give it to Demos. He will get it to Tal. She will convince them that compliance is less painful than resistance.” Several commanders chuckled.
“What about the priests?” asked another commander.
“Kill them, without exception,” replied Allor. “But I believe most of the priests will flee and hide. You will find them in caves and hiding in the forest. Those that think they can hide among the people have made a fatal mistake. As soon as the converts learn that their tithing is reduced by half and their prayer schedule is reduced, I expect the priests to find they are no longer welcome guests.”
“What about heads?” asked Dewson.
“Remove them if you must. But no heads on sticks. Leave that for Tal,” replied Demos.
Demos liked Tal and wished she liked him as much.
“Men and women, we will soon put an end to the religious wars once and for all. No longer will any people live in fear of raids. No longer will we have our loved ones slaughtered for believing differently. You will be the liberators of a long-suffering people. So on the day they may hate you, on the day they may despise you, but not many days from now they will know that what you have done was something for which they can never repay you adequately.”
Allor held his fist above his head. Then Demos held his fist in the air. A moment later the rest of the commanders joined them. They spoke in the language they knew.
“Death to Ceros. Death to Ceros,” they chanted together.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“I’ve recorded some new comms down on the planet. One source I think you will be interested in,” said Rusa.
Koven and Rusa were seated in the pilot and copilots seat of the cruiser. In front of them through the bridge viewports they could see Earth 7 down below.
“Why the source and not the message?” Koven asked.
“Because it is a cave just outside of the capital. A cave that measures thirty maatars by eighty maatars.”
“That’s large,” Koven interjected.
“And there is significant electrical and sub-modular power components in use.”
“A laboratory?” Koven asked.
“Maybe,” replied Rusa. “Maybe they need a real hard ass reminder to let them know we’re in charge.”
“What was that?”
“The movie library answered,” replied Rusa. “Let me know if I need to translate it.”
“No thanks, I got it loud and clear. Can you play the comms, please?”
“Sure thing, sweet cheeks,” replied Rusa.
“Was that the movie library again?”
“No. That was me running one of my pleasure subroutines.”
“Your what?”
“Pleasure subroutines,” replied Rusa.
“Tell me about them later. Can we just listen to the comms?”
“OK,” said Rusa with an overly exaggerated sad face.
The comms were not very intelligent from what they could hear. They hadn’t set the duplex properly and they spent an inordinate amount of time asking the other if they could hear them satisfactorily. But the relevant message was that Allor, Tal, and Canto would be retu
rning to the main temple.
“We need to proceed using the lowest probability of mortality and the highest probability of success,” said Koven when the comms ended.
“The lowest probability of mortality is if we remain on the cruiser. But that won’t meet our mission objective,” Rusa replied. Koven marveled how after all of these centuries, androids still didn’t understand the nuances of language and the implied but not stated condition.
“Well, we must retrieve the tech. But I don’t want to get killed in the process.”
Rusa pressed a button on the control hologram to start a limited back thrust by the engines.
“There is cloaking and the PPS. Fatality would require an extraordinary event.”
“Extraordinary is a word not usually found in the vocabulary of a historian,” replied Koven coldly.
Rusa got up from the commander’s chair.
“Let’s try this,” she said. “Let’s transport down, with cloaking. Just for a few tix, say twenty or less. Take a look around, then come back here and have a discussion of whether it looks safe enough to continue. Twenty tix isn’t enough to be very dangerous. How about that?”
“I like that idea. Short, sweet assessment. Where do we land, outside the temple again?”
“As good a place as any, but I’ve found a spot on the steps that is well shielded by the columns, so if we slow approach the landing, we’ll be hard to notice,” Rusa replied.
“You sound like a Non,” replied Koven.
“And how is that?” she asked.
“Imprecise.”
They landed on the empty corner of the steps leading to the temple. There was no one within ten maatars of them. But down in the square at the bottom of the steps was an assembly of archers. They stood in long rows of a hundred men each. Their bows were on their shoulders, bowstrings to the front, quiver to the back. A man wearing a blue robe stood in front of them. Koven and Rusa held hands for the brief twenty tix before heading back.
When they got back to the cruiser, they walked back to the bridge.
“Something is going on. That looks like an army about to go to war,” said Koven.
“Affirmative. I calculate the probability of major conflict at near eighty-nine point three percent,” replied Rusa. “And it increases the probability of the PPS all being in use by forty-three point one percent. They don’t seem to have figured out just to keep it on low all the time, like you do,” she said.
“That will make it harder to take them away. It’s not like we can go right up to them and pull on the control insignia,” said Koven.
“No, I doubt we will have the opportunity to do that. Even cloaked, it will be difficult and very risky,” Rusa replied.
“Yes. I would need to snatch it and transport an instant later,” said Koven.
“Or shoot them.”
“Yes, or shoot them,” Koven replied in a disappointed tone before continuing. “If I am connected to them physically or even through a PPS under my control but still in contact with them, then I will be inside of a transport bubble with them and that will not be an optimal outcome,” Koven replied.
“Agreed. You’d be barreling through the atmosphere with your eyes closed while they would be wasting their time beating against your PPS shield, then begin beating on you,” said Rusa.
“How did you know I close my eyes?” he asked.
“The elasticity of the skin that makes up you eyelids has not returned to normal whenever I see you just after you have arrived.”
“Do you always observe at that level of detail?”
“Yes,” Rusa replied.
“You should be a historian,” replied Koven.
“I can’t,” she replied.
“Why?”
“Because I have no prohibition against lying. Under the right circumstances I can lie, if it serves the greater good,” she replied.
“Many people in history have died arguing over whose greater good was the greatest,” replied Koven with a smile.
“That seems possible, given human emotions,” Rusa replied.
“So how do we get back the PPS? The rest of the items seem easier,” asked Koven.
“When does someone take off their PPS?” Rusa asked. Koven smiled.
“When they are defecating, when they are bathing, and when they are having sex,” replied Koven. “Although, technically they don’t have to take it off while they are shitting, since the PPS is self-cleaning. But then you would have to sit wearing what amounts to a shitty diaper for a few tox while it cleans up the mess. That’s why everyone takes them off to take a crap.”
“So what strategy is best for this?” asked Rusa.
“We wait for them to do any of these three things and then we take them while they are busy,” replied Koven.
“I think you’ve come up with the winning idea,” replied Rusa, her language modified by her motivational psychology programming.
They transported back to a corner of the main temple where they kept the robes of the priests. It was an orgy of color as the multicolored robes of Allor’s priests hung all around them. They rotated colors through the seasons and various religious festivals. Some apples never fall far from the tree.
Invisible to all, they made their way to the chambers of Canto and Tal.
The waiting game began.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Two armed guards stood outside of the door to the chambers of Duvi, the High Priest of the Cult of Ceros. They were waiting for the delivery of slave women for the evening. They stood loosely with their hand on their swords.
Allor appeared in front of them for just an instant before Canto and Tal appeared behind them and ran them through with their light swords. Both guards fell to the sandstone floor. Their cauterized wounds prevented their leaking onto the ground at first. Canto and Tal stood over their bodies then cloaked themselves again.
Allor walked over to the doors and flung them open. He kept his head inside of his hood and his PPS set on low. Cloaking was still turned off.
There were two more guards inside of Duvi’s chambers.
“You. You are the dog called Allor,” said one of them as they both pulled their swords from the sheaths.
“I am Allor.”
“You don’t draw your sword. You will be easy to kill. Then I will kill your pretty mother.”
“She will kill you first,” Allor said with a smile.
The guard jerked hard when Tal’s sword entered his body from behind. She remained cloaked, but the blood and stomach fluid of the guard covered her sword and the outline became visible. Then his body slammed into the floor as she kicked him to the ground. The other guard turned to run away and was impaled on Canto’s sword.
From deep in the ostentatious rooms of gold, red, and blue, a man with short knife-cropped hair and boils on his face found his bow and quiver. He grabbed an arrow and aimed it across the rooms at Allor.
“You have met your match, wizard,” he said as he shot his arrow. His aim was good, and his arrow was delivered directly to Allor’s head, where it broke and ricocheted to the left.
“There you are,” said Allor, turning to Duvi.
“What magic do you bring to me, wizard?” Duvi said as he shot another arrow at Allor. It too hit Allor and deflected its path. Then a third one came, then a fourth and finally a fifth. Without arrows, Duvi looked to the nearby table. He threw a jug of water. It landed in front of Allor and the water splashed out at his feet.
“Duvi, Head Priest of Ceros, you have killed, you have enslaved, you have abused, and you will do these things no more. It is your judgment day,” said Allor, a strange look on his face like the wolf in that moment between the third and fourth time it tears the flesh of its prey.
“You do no frighten me, Allor dog, son of a whore bitch,” Duvi said, and spit on the floor in front of him.
“Good. Your fate was sealed long ago. This rev is when your pages turn blan
k. This day the Cult of Ceros will be no more.”
“My work will survive,” Duvi replied.
“In a few years no one will remember you,” said Allor. “Your ass-boil of greatness will fade from memory and I will forbid the scholars to include you in the histories. You will be dust again.”
“For what? What have I done to you?” Duvi demanded.
“She was killed by one of your raids. And for her blood I demand yours.”
“If we murdered her, she must have been ugly,” said Duvi defiantly with a sneer. “If she was pretty she would become one of my slaves. I must discriminate somehow or my stable would be overflowing. But you know the best ones? The women of Ceros. It’s because of their love for Ceros that they are so responsive to my needs.”
Allor stood still except for the tremble of anger.
“So what do you want? Gold? I have plenty. Women? Again the same. Take both of them, buy anything, fornicate with them until you have a temple full of children like me. What does it take to fulfill your need? I ask you this because I could never find the limits of my own needs. I swear upon Ceros himself that I always wanted more gold, more women, more converts, more slaves. Enough was not a word familiar to me. It is important to know what you want,” he said without the fear of a man about to die.
“I want to look at you moments before you die and let you go to your death knowing it was me that killed you. Look hard at your executioner, Duvi. I am death in human form, come to collect your debt.”
“Combat between us is unfair, you sit behind magic.”
Allor laughed.
“It was not fair when you raided my village. So it was never going to be fair between us. You will die. This temple and everything for twenty-five kilomaatars will be incinerated. Nothing but ash.”
“No one has that kind of magic.”
“Fool, it was never magic. Machines from people that live out among the stars,” replied Allor.
Allor put his hand into his robe and removed a round metal tube. It had a numeric pad and two sliding controls. He placed it on the floor. Then he cloaked.
