by K R Sanford
Marco's eyes did not falter. He stiffened his upper lip to bolster Napgath.
Mondell, a slight Vallian with fine light-brown hair and fair skin spoke up. “Captain, permit me if you will. I am Mondell the mechanic. I make the clock and grinder. My shop stands next to the furrier on Shrine Lake Road. I was in my display window, a louvered casement I labored to my own satisfaction. It is too well built for anything but fanciful display—a tribute to my work, if you take my meaning.”
“Yes,” replied Marco. “I advertise from time to time myself. No pun intended. Please go on, Mondell.”
“Oh, very good,” said Mondell, pointing his finger at Marco's chest. “Now to my point, I finished arranging my clocks in my display when the explosion struck. I was blind from the light to see. The sound had rung my ears.
I braced myself against the door until I could see again. When my sight returned, the glass in the display window was across the street in pieces. This is a terrible waste of fine work. My clocks and time-keeps had not moved. They rested right where I arranged them, only moments before. The casement stayed in place and I felt no more than a puff of wind on my face.
Very strange, I thought. So, I ran outside to the middle of the street and as I did the second blast struck the foothills. I saw the ship in the flash. So, I called to my son Pawdell from out of the back of my shop. He was well and not injured. Thank the stars for that, but I saw he was more alarmed than me.
He said he would fetch Chief Spierd from Shrine Mountain. Pawdell also said this doing was from space. You see, my son has taken an interest in the stars and knows the Chief well. They returned an hour later. The Chief explained the torpedo; a photon—close density-both strikes.
The bodies of the Boyer's were ashes. There was nothing we could do. I am very sorry, Captain. We searched for Shanna for over an hour. We could not find her. We had no idea she was still out there.”
“Thank you, Mondell,” replied Marco. “Shanna was hiding. She thought if she moved she might get caught.”
Mondell, distraught, replied, “She plays with our children, Captain.”
“She got frightened. Try not to worry so, Mondell.” Marco put his hand on Mondell's shoulder. With an easy voice said, “Take heart, Mondell, we'll get through this.”
“What will become of her, Captain?” asked Mondell.
“She's safe upstairs,” he replied. “Do you know where Chief Spierd is right now?”
“He is still with my son on the fire line, as far as I know,” replied Mondell.
“Good, I will need to see him as soon as possible,” said Marco.
“I will bring him to you, sir,” replied Mondell.
“Thank you again,” said Marco.
Mondell left the Great Hall as though a general sent him on his way. The Captain slumped and moved over to the fire.
Tildanfin announced, “Refreshments are on the table, brothers.” Tildanfin was back with a pitcher of Vallian ale. He set a platter of nutbread on the table. Alongside the bread he set bowls of buttercream and gooseberry jam.
Marco, anxious to try the Vallian vittles, hung the cross-caster on the elk rack. He strolled over to the table and pulled off a handful of the Vallian bakery. He spread a thick layer of buttercream on the clump of bread. The dark mysterious creature in the corner caught his eye. Marco piled the gooseberry jam in the center of his bread. He grabbed a mug of ale and sat in the chair next to the mysterious creature.
Marco sat and chewed the bread. After pulling down a long gulp of the Vallian ale, he turned to the creature. It was watching Marco with amused interest. He gave a look of disbelief to Marco's eating habits. There was an odd sense of detachment on his face.
“Quite an impressive room, this Great Hall,” said Marco.
“Yes,” answered the other. His tenor voice paused as he pointed to the sidewall where a table stood. “These arms are over ten thousand years old, Captain, and not one sword has seen battle since coming to Ameda. The farming Vallians of Earth forged that line of spears over the table. This was before the time of man, Captain.”
Marco bowed his head. He replied, “Let's hope they won't see war now.”
“Yes, well, you know as well as I, these weapons are useless against a starcruiser.”
Marco returned a curious stare. “You're not a Vallian,” he said.
“No, I am not a Vallian, and neither are you.” The creature made what appeared a painful effort to laugh.
Marco sat and held his tongue. He gave the creature a fair place to say what he pleased.
“I am William, the Homalet and thief.”
Marco lifted an eyebrow, “A thief, ah?”
“Retired,” replied William.
“I see,” said Marco. “Well, good, that's a beautiful thing, retirement. Now, is that implant from the Amedans?”
William pointed his ear to the orange glow in his left shoulder. “Oh, yes,” he replied. “A wound I suffered from a winged nano rat. The Amedans were happy they could neutralize the nano cells.”
“Neutralize, then your body can't heal?” asked Marco.
“No, Captain,” replied William. “There is no cure, only systemic maintenance; that is all.”
Marco nodded than continued. “Pardon my ignorance, William, what is a Homalet?”
William smiled with a sneer. He made another attempt to laugh. “Ha, ha, you stick to your course well, Captain,” replied William. “I mean, you want to be sure you can trust me, is that it?”
The Captain stared into William's eyes, but said nothing.
“Very well,” William placed his long fingers in his lap and stared at the weapons on the far wall. “We were very much like you, Captain, but as you can see, we are a great deal smaller. My people were farmers and fishers in times of peace, but they exists no more on Earth. Some of my people, like your people, showed extra valor in war. Although, we saw only one great War. That was the end of my people's reign. Now, I am the only one left.”
“There is more to this story, William,” said Marco. “What do you do for female companionship?”
“What any respectable Homalet would do, I have a mistress,” replied William.
Marco laughed, “A Vallian woman then?”
“Of course,” replied William. “They are the best. The Vallian women have a lot of vitality you know.”
“Well, no, I didn't know,” said Marco.
“One day, you will find out?”
“I have other things on my mind right now,” said Marco, “The attack of Frank Bradley, for instance.”
William turned his ear toward the Captain.
“And how far he might go when he finds out the girl is alive?”
The Captain got taken off guard. “What do you mean?” he said.
“Captain,” whispered William. “Does he know she's your daughter?”
Marco sat back in his chair. He set his mug on the floor and said, “Who told you that?”
“Shanna's foster mother,” replied William.
“She and I became good friends.”
“I don't follow, William,” said Marco.
“An advantage a Homalet has, at times, is his sense of smell. I asked Janna Boyer where Shanna's father was.”
“I see, you're quite amazing, William. Who else knows about this?”
“Everyone, Captain,” replied William.
Marco finished his bread and ale. He contemplated his situation. He considered Ameda.
Ameda, a beautiful planet, is no longer out of reach of the Frank Bradley Corporation. Ameda is the planet in a star system he wanted to call his home. And yet, there were nine Vallians and two humans dead in the last few hours. Marco closed his eyes and tried to rest. Footsteps interrupted his moment of peace.
Tildanfin walked up with a group of Vallians. He introduced Malcolm the boat builder. Malcolm spoke in short quick phrases. Then, as if in a hurry to get on to business, he introduced Arnockel.
Arnockel's hand was like a vise. He was a dark-skinne
d Vallian with a weather beaten face. Arnockel spoke soft with a twinkle in his eyes as blue as sapphire. A permanent smile fixed his face and outlined a perfect set of white teeth. He wore the same silver meshed cloak as Torroadin the merchant, a curious cloak, so much, that Marco had to ask.
“Arnockel, this fine weave you wear. Does it keep you warm?”
“Well, yes, it does. But that is not why I have it on.” Arnockel's eyes twinkled as if he knew the punch-line to a joke that no one else knew. “I will show you, Captain,” he said. “Bear with me. I will show you a Vallian secret.”
Arnockel pulled the hood over his head and walked to the fireplace. As he did, a disturbance broke out among the Vallians. Marco heard them say something about the dangers of revealing trade secrets. Arnockel ignored the warning and when he reached the fireplace, he disappeared. Nothing of Arnockel remained except the faint outline of the cloak.
The outline swung out and over the fireplace and vanished. Arnockel was leaning against the mantle. He brought the silver-meshed cloak out from behind him. He put it back on and asked Marco what he thought.
“It somehow picks up light from the area close-by,” said Marco. “Then it blends in with the surroundings. Am I close to the secret?”
“Oh, yes, very close, Captain. To be precise, the mesh is woven of fine linked knots. The fibers are hollow and have mirrored lining. It is difficult to grow and even more difficult to weave. It takes six months and fifty highly-skilled Vallians to make one cloak.”·
“That's quite a tribute to whoever wears one,” said Marco.
“Yes, indeed it is,” replied Arnockel.
“Do you grow the fibers?” asked Marco.
“We grow the stocks that make the fibers. It's what you feed the plant that perfects the lining. It's a secret, but the fish scales help.”
“The fish scales, ah, very interesting.”
“Oh, yes it is, but you have to know what fish to use, where to find them and how to catch them. I am an expert, of course.” Arnockel folded his arms over his chest and leaned back against the mantle. With that the Vallians burst into uproarious laughter.
“That was the best fish story I've heard in a long time,” said Torroadin.
“A real whopper,” said Malcolm.
“Don’t pay any attention to them; they don’t want me to get all the credit, jealousy you know. Arnockel winked.
“Arnockel,” said Marco, “soon I will need a home of my own and a good mason will be very useful. When the job gets done, we'll go and see about those fish.”
“You got it, Captain,” said Arnockel with a grin that stretched from ear to ear.
Tildanfin cautioned Arnockel about the last time a Vallian gave out a trade secret. He spoke loud enough for Marco to hear.
When the excitement settled, Marco stared over Arnockel's shoulder. He marveled at the sight of the man he had not seen in seven years. Marco rose from his chair. “John it's been a few years. I see Mondell found you alright?”
Chief John Spierd's sandy hair was white with soot. His round face and thin lips flushed pink from the fires. His stocky build donned the dark blue jumpsuit of ship's engineer. The jumpsuit, covered in soot and mud, was still wet from the fire line.
“Mondell and his son are both good Vallians,” replied the Chief.
“Catch your breath, John,” said Marco. “Then you've come from the target area.”
The Chief, bracing himself against the table reported, “Nine Vallians are dead. A dozen more injured; and the Eagle?”
“They're orbiting Ameda,” replied Marco.
“What sensors are active?” asked the Chief.
“All sub-light monitors,” replied Marco. “The main computer is recording.”
“Good, then no one knows your ship is here,” said the Chief clenching his fists.
“Only if there's a visual; Hector set it up that way. At the time, I wasn't doing too well,” said Marco.
“I heard,” replied the Chief. “The crew shuttled in last week and we had a talk. I figured when you were ready, you would mosey over and say hello. Now Bradley's cut your holiday short ─ how you holding up?”
“I was okay. Now I’m mad,” replied Marco.
“That's a good sign,” said the Chief. “I was in the Shrine looking out the East portal. I saw the freighter come in low over the lake. Commander Boyer tried to make contact with Bradley. He got his answer with a torpedo. There wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.
Bradley will be back soon. He'll take a slow orbit then set down over the lake, unless he wants to dome the village. And there's a strong possibility about that. I figure he's after the Amedan technology. And, the Vallians would know the way. If he would kill his own daughter, he won't think twice about killing everyone here.”
“We don’t know he has knowledge of his daughter. I mean, he's bad, but not that bad. Even so, he's finished. We have precious little time of doing anything,” Marco was shaking his head.
“That’s right, it's a real problem,” said the Chief. “If you call down the Eagle, he'll send a cruiser to keep her busy while he drops the dome. The Vallians will get trapped. He wants the Amedan technology and he'll stop at nothing to get it. It's going to be the end of this village unless we come up with some kind of plan. If we don't, we will all end up dead.”
Marco, shaking his head again, ran his hand through his hair and a scowled. The Vallians began whispering. Balrug calculated and was searching something in his head. Tildanfin put his hands on his hips. Disappointment was on his face. Then, the Homalet stood from his chair. He faced the Captain and announced,
“Let them drop their dome,” said William. He stood proud, no more than four feet high; yet something in his face reassured the Captain. “We'll hold them off until you get help.”
Marco cocked his head to one side at a sudden commotion in the Great Hall. The Vallians went into hurried discussions. Torroadin grumbled, and Mondell threw up his hands. Balrug pointed his finger in the air, and a Vallian the Captain had not seen stepped forward.
“We can go underground,” he said. “We've done it before and we can do it now.”
Chertog the miner, Master of the Tunnel, is a black-eyed wiry Vallian. His silver-meshed cloak made him look like a prizefighter. Torroadin added a grumble. Mondell scratched his chin. Tildanfin stood with his mouth open and his eyes calculating.
Gonquin the horseman pulled back his cloak and stepped to the side of Chertog. His left thumb tucked under a wide leather belt. His right palm rested on the hilt of a Vallian sword with the name ‘Raven’ etched on the handle. Gonquin's little finger dangling over a blood red ruby. The ruby is given to those who have killed enemy soldiers single-handed. “I will ride all night and call the mountain folk to arms,” he cried.
“If we organize, we can do this thing,” answered Balrug.
Marco and John stepped back and watched as the Vallians dash about the Great Hall.
Tildanfin announced, “Spread the word to everyone, we haven't a moment to lose.”
Arnockel the mason cried, “I will make ready to close the tunnel and disguise the entrance.”
Then, as Chertog, Master of the Tunnel turned to Gonquin, he stuck out his hand. “Farewell, brother,” he said. “We will see you with the first light of morning. Go with all speed.”
“That I will, brother Chertog. Leave no one behind! Farewell until the first light or sooner,” Chertog raised an eyebrow and Gonquin was off.
Gonquin's cloak flew back. The firelight played on the gem-encrusted sheath. His white hair blew off his shoulders and a moment later, he was gone from the Great Hall.
William picked up the poker and stoked the fire. Chief Spierd leaned into the Captain. He said, “Do you think you can hold off a battle cruiser with that cross-caster?”
“If their shields are down, sure, why not,” replied Marco. “And, if I can get a clear shot of their anti-gravity ring, sure. They'll move out of the planet's atmosphere. If their launch bay do
ors are open, I can shut down their launch controls. There is lot of ifs there, Chief. And if that Homalet touches that cross-caster, I'm going to kick him in the fire.”
William turned and stood tall, “Don't you trust me, Captain?”
“Not as far as I can throw you. Don't you have a mistress to look after?”
William sensed stress from the Captain and answered, “She has family. I'll only be in the way.”
“Then you're coming with us,” said Marco.
“We can't leave a thief like you hanging around with all this untended booty, now can we?”
William returned a look of pity then replied, “Do you have a plan, Captain Miller?”
“Not yet,” said Marco. “We were discussing our defenses, any thoughts?”
“We could use a diversion,” said William. “We can draw off Bradley fire. Make him think we are at one place when are at another?”
“Good idea, I like that, William,” replied Marco. “How about you, John; you don't happen to have a shuttle craft docked around here?”
The Chief returned a cautious look at Marco's tired face. He reported, “Sorry, Marco. I have one hand phaser, and an old banged-up communicator. Then there's this multi-scanner with a hologram display. That's about it.”
The noise of Vallians yelling outside interrupted the gathering in the Great Hall. When they got to the front door, it stood wide open. Village folk were on the street with backpacks and bundles.
“He's coming, make way,” shouted a Vallian.
Marco stepped out onto the porch. He listened to the mad gallop of hooves coming down the cobbled street.
The horse was pure white. The stallion had a long flowing tail and main. Between his ears and over his head were the Vallian armor and headdress. The stallion had a red war plumb with shiny silver base.
Gonquin held Faragorn’s reins loose in his left hand while in his right he held Raven, the sword of Shrine Mountain. “To arms, to arms!” he shouted. The sound of the stallion’s hooves raced down Shrine Village Main. Gonquin's war cry sounded up on Tildanfin's front porch. They turned to make their way along Shrine Lake Road and onto the mountain folk.
