Prophet of ConFree (The Prophet of ConFree)

by Marshall S. Thomas

  "As for useful, practical information to enable us to counter the Demons militarily – well, we're hot. Within a very short time, we should be able to counter the Demon's individual plasma pulse battle rifle. And with all the hardware in our hands, I have no doubt we are going to be able to effectively counter their individual forcefield shielding that protects their A-suits on the battlefield. And maybe do something to rapidly kill those parasites and that will kill the demons. The good news is that they do not have – or at least do not use – individual cloaking like we do. So they will be visible at all times."

  "That's great! So we can fight them – they're not invulnerable."

  "We can fight them. But there are a lot of unknowns out there. They're from another universe – and that universe has dimensions that we do not. How do they travel there, visit here, and return? How do they move around the universe – theirs or ours? If they don't use artificial wormholes, what do they use to travel? You saw that vid of the attack on the Omni city. They just appear, from nowhere, a giant fleet of saucer spacecraft. And then they spray the target wildly with antimats. And annihilate it utterly. That’s scary. That's not going to be easy to counter, until we can at least understand how it is done.

  "Hmm, good donuts!"

  A thumping arose from one of the cubes. Insistent.

  "I'll check it," I said.

  It was Louie. I opened the viewport. He was waiting expectantly, and snarled. "Choco," the translation unit said. "You give choco donut. Please."

  "No," I said, and closed the viewport. The Demons had an exceptionally sharp sense of smell.

  "He wants a donut," I told the Prof.

  "Good. I'll give it." He picked up one of the donuts, walked over to Louie's cube, and opened the viewport. I couldn't give him the donut because I was the designated bad guy.

  "You want choco donut yes no," Prof said.

  "Yes. Please."

  "Good you. We talk good. We like Lhwoo-ee." He passed a donut through the dispenser under the viewport, then closed the viewport down.

  "We thank you," Louie said.

  The Prof returned to his desk. "More progress every day," he said. "Louie may be our man."

  "Did you find anything useful in the Drusweaven documents?" I asked. The Prof had been doing long-term research on a giant stack of handwritten and autotyped documents that we had confiscated from the Brothers in Blood, who didn't need them anymore.

  "Yes, Prophet. Yes, I did. I've followed the trail further since the last time we spoke. I have confirmation positive that she was on the Ringgold cargo manifest. Here it is." He peered at a document. "'Carol Surinto, female, age 11.' That's all it says. But then there's the delivery receipt on Drusweaven. 'C. Surinto, F, age 11. Detention Bay 8.' I checked with the tacmap and Detention Bay 8 was not targeted by our initial tacstars and was not later damaged. But I have learned that she was not there when we attacked. According to these Brothers in Blood records, on 378/09/12, she was purchased by Household Industries, which is a notorious slave market on the world Quatar 8. Carol Surinto, sex F, age 12, medically certified virgin. Household Industries paid 150,000 Quatar credits for her. From a separate source, I learned that she departed Drusweaven 378/10/03 on the Personal Ship Starstruck, bound for Quatar 8. That's where the trail ends. There is no record of any ship named the Starstruck, in any galactic registry. It just departed from Drusweaven, that one time, but never existed before or after. So my next move has to be to target Quatar 8 to see what I can learn about Household Industries and the Starstruck, which is affiliated with Household Industries."

  "And how are we going to do that?"

  He looked up at me slowly. "We? Prophet. I can always count on you, can't I? I thank you. I will tell you when I come up with a proper course of action."

  "I'll be there, Prof."

  Δ

  Δ

  Louie appeared to be the weak link in our trio of smelly Demons. He was just as concerned about "brights" as Huey and Dewey were, but he was more willing to talk. We didn't necessarily believe him and were careful that he might be trying to deceive us. Our brainscan devices told us a lot about the Demon brain, but at this point it could not highlight either sincerity or deception.

  "We talk brights," the Prof said to Louie. Kimmie and I were standing by on full alert. We were getting closer to whatever it was.

  "Brights bad," Louie crackled and chirped, followed by the translation.

  "You talk brights bad. We talk brights good."

  "Brights no good! Brights kill Tribe!"

  My adrenalin gave me a jolt. Brights kill Tribe! Deadman! We had been waiting for this for months! The "Tribe" was the translation for what the Demons called themselves.

  "Brights kill Tribe Brights bad. Why Brights kill Tribe?" Prof asked. The word "why" was a really important concept and it had taken us awhile to come up with a translation. But we had it now!

  "Brights hate Tribe, Brights kill Tribe."

  "Why Brights hate Tribe?"

  "Brights Tribe fight."

  "Why Brights Tribe fight?"

  "You give choco donut." The Prof handed it over and Louie nibbled at it slowly, savoring the taste.

  "Why Brights Tribe fight?"

  "Brights take Tribe goodplace." We still hadn't figured out exactly what goodplace was. Presumably it meant home.

  "Why Brights take Tribe goodplace?" Without why we would be severely limited in what we could ask.

  "Brights want kill Tribe."

  "Where Brights?"

  "Brights Tribe goodplace." Kimmie and I were frozen, hardly daring to breathe. Louie was on a roll, and so was the Prof.

  "You talk Brights body."

  "Brights bad no happy eyes yellow-hair. Brights hot sun burn eyes. Brights yes tall no short."

  "Brights arms legs yes no."

  "Brights arms yes two, legs yes two. Head yes one. Brights bad no happy eyes."

  "Kimmie, I think it's time for you to give Louie a donut." She took one over and slid it into the slot.

  "We thank happy eyes yellow-hair," Louie said.

  "Yellow hair talk Lhwoo-ee have big sex," the Prof said. It was clearly time to further motivate our target.

  "We sex yellow-hair!"

  "You talk Brights body."

  "Brights small sex. Tribe big sex."

  "Why Tribe leave goodplace?"

  "Brights Tribe goodplace. Brights kill Tribe. Tribe look new goodplace."

  "Prophet, please tell Ambassador Wester to come here immediately."

  "Yes sir," I said. I was so excited my voice was shaking, the blood was icy cold in my veins and the hair was rising on the back of my neck.

  Δ

  It was only a few days later when we stood before the ship, looking up at it. It was beautiful – completely seamless, completely invulnerable. Floating soundlessly, glowing softly with those faint agate-like strips – glittering metallic colors. The Prof and I and Kimmie stood there beside Ambassador Wester and General Aran. The rest of the gang – all the techies and scientists – were keeping their distance. A squad of armored Assidics and a squad of armored Legion troopers – our own Squad Beta – were in positions around the ship, clutching their weapons. Several probes and a whole lot of invisible eyemotes were floating around the ship.

  Louie stood next to the Professor, snacking on a donut, his stinking moist fur crawling with parasites. He looked around curiously, then let his gaze wander up to the ship.

  "You open ship," the Prof said. We were using a portable translation unit.

  "You no talk Tribe Lhwoo-ee open ship."

  "We no talk Tribe Lhwoo-ee open ship."

  "You give Lhwoo-ee new goodplace."

  "We give Lhwoo-ee new goodplace."

  "Lhwoo-ee open ship," Louie replied. Then he said something else and an opening appeared on the side of the ship and the ship slowly floated downwards and landing skids appeared and the ship touched down and a ramp slid out from the opening and the ship stopped moving.

&
nbsp; It was deathly silent. A couple of probes slowly floated into the opening. A terrible stench reached us. We couldn't see what was inside there but it looked like at least part of the interior had been scorched by the Assidic tacstar. And something was dead in there.

  It was the stench of victory.

  Chapter 9

  Voodoo Honey

  "Good news at last from Site S," the Director of ConFree said, thrusting a printout document at the Commanding General of the ConFree Legion, who had just entered her office.

  "I saw it, Tara. Excellent news. Thinker has outdone himself." He settled into an airsofa by the picture window. Tara joined him. Thinker was Ambassador Wester's warname. He was an old comrade of both Tara and Dragon.

  "Wester says it wasn't him – it was his guys."

  "Ah, he's the man. It's his command. You're right, this is just wonderful. So – we know why the Demons are here. They're fleeing the Brights, who are pursuing them in Dimension X. And I don't think there's much doubt that these Brights are the Wanderers, who settled our galaxy in ancient times. Or their descendants."

  "Yes, and even then they were warring with the Demons. The Brights were surely the angels, and the demons were the devils, beasts or fiends of our most ancient religions and legends."

  "Well, we can't be sure about that, Tara, but you may be right. Now that we've got at least one of these Demons talking, we will certainly learn more. But it's extremely important that we know what we are fighting, and why. It's a migration. Fleeing feared enemies. That's extremely dangerous. And we've got to stop it."

  "Agreed."

  "Now – about the ship. At last! The damned thing is open!'

  "Thank Deadman for choco donuts."

  "That's been our most effective weapon so far. So we can expect to learn more about how the ship works, how its weapons work, how they travel between dimensions and a lot more."

  "Yes, Dragon."

  "Well, it's about time. I understand that we've zeroed in on various weak points of the Demons' individual weapons systems."

  "That's correct. It looks very good."

  "So. Can we stop ignoring the O's?" Dragon asked.

  "Ignoring them?"

  "They gave us good info on the Demons. Invaluable info that allowed us to respond properly with a defensive plan. Right?"

  "Agreed."

  "I'd like it better if the O's didn't exist. But they do and they are a formidable force. You know how they are. If you prove yourself by deeds to be a friend and ally, they will cross you off their list of things to be killed and eaten."

  "I'm not sending Legion troopers to defend the O's."

  "Neither am I, Tara. Here's what we do. Once we get all the details on the weak points of these demon individual weapons systems, we give them to our friends. The A's, the Biogens, the Santos Freestate, the Dark Cloud Alliance, and the Pleiades Association. Then we send them to the O's as well. That will be our response to their helpful info. All right?"

  "That's fine, Dragon. I was going to suggest sending the info to our friends. I guess we can send it to the O's as well. They did us a service."

  "They certainly did. How are the construction projects going?"

  "Going full blast. The excavation info from the A's was quite valuable. And our architects are imaginative and effective. Hundreds of thousands of people are going to be able to charge into these shelters at once, on foot, with no crowding or pushing, and get instant transport downsides. And once they enter, they'll be safe."

  "Good. Good. I feel a lot better about that. Until we start gaining info from the ship, we will be completely vulnerable to a surprise space-air antimat attack like that we saw done to the O's. So these shelters will at least protect our people while our forces are on the way to the unexpected attack."

  "All right," Tara said. "Now how about the Gulf slave states?"

  "What about them?"

  "That's where the D's are right now. They're doing recons. Presumably this is leading up to a full-scale attack. Like on that O world."

  "Yeah."

  "Aren't we going to pass our weapons knowledge to the authorities there?"

  "Yeah, I've been pondering that. But you know the Gulf slave states – they're not much better than the demons themselves. The Pegal Stelcom, the Gulf Union, the Asumara Holy Commune – they couldn’t care less about their populations. They only care about themselves, their political power. How much tax money they can extort from their people. That's all."

  "I think we should educate them."

  "They’re not educatable. They're insane. They're not going to waste good revenue on fighting Demons when they could be storing it in private accounts in the Gassies or using it to purchase political friends."

  "They're not preparing at all for a D attack, are they?"

  "No. They're not. By the way, what is this 'D' talk? When did the Demons become D's? I must have missed that memo."

  "I never really liked the term 'Demons'," Tara said. "It makes them sound too scary; it may frighten the population. I think if we start using the term D, it may catch on and people will start thinking of them as the D and not the Demons."

  Dragon smiled, grimly. "All right, send me the memo. I'll spread it around. But as far as passing our intel to the Gulf states, I don't know. Let's see what happens. Are we going to send Legion troops to defend the Gulf?"

  "I don't know, Dragon. I sure don't want to. But the Gulf is uncomfortably close to the Outvac. And, as you point out, the Gulf states sure aren't going to do anything to defend themselves."

  "That's a ten. It's always up to us, isn't it? All right, we'll see what happens."

  Δ

  "Prophet, I believe I've collected all the info that we can realistically glean from the public records on Quatar 8," the Professor said. He was at his desk in his cube. He had his own office now. He was keeping very busy with both the Demons and the ship, but his private problem was tops on his list.

  "Is that Household Industries?" I asked, leaning over his desk to examine a floor plan of a large building.

  "That's it. Quatar is an independent world, surviving on free trade. They're outside Gassies Coalition vac, not far from the beginning of the Outmark Neutral Zone. It's a relatively sane government, but they tolerate anything that makes money and does not lead to interference from other states. They don't want trouble from the Gassies Coalition, the Asumara Holy Commune, or ConFree – all of which are not far off. At the same time, they tolerate slavery. They discourage active slave raids and won't let pirates set up shop there, but buying and selling slaves does not bother them at all. Hence Household Industries. It's still there – and quite prosperous. "

  "Do you think she's in that building?"

  "No. The sales occur there, but the girls aren't there. I haven’t been able to find where they keep them. That will be very closely held."

  "Do you think she's still there?"

  "I don't know."

  "So how should we approach this?"

  "Well. I've found that the most obvious and direct approach often works. Not always – but often enough to be tempting."

  "You mean – we kick in the door and start killing people until we get what we want?"

  "No. I mean we ask for what we want."

  "Won't that appear suspicious?"

  "Oh, we don’t use a name. We specify what we are looking for. They call it Household Industries because you are allegedly looking for household helpers, and they supply them. It's all quite legal, on Quatar. Should you display interest in young females, age about thirteen, who happen to be medically certified virgins, they show the customer a sales brochure that includes all available household helpers who meet those requirements. And I'll bet there are not a lot of medically certified virgins. And the sales price will be high enough so that only the super-rich can afford her. Perhaps it means she will still be there, waiting for the right wealthy customer."

  "You've thought it all out, Prof. But how are we going to do it? Quatar is on the o
ther side of the inhabited galaxy from Pandaravos. I doubt the Legion will give either of us leave, or transportation. Your role here is critical. Can we get ConFree to raid Quatar to free those slaves?"

  "I don't think that is likely to happen, Prophet. Household Industries is not a pirate base, it’s a legitimate business on Quatar, located right downtown in Star City, the capital. I think we must be more subtle than that. My plans are not complete. I'm not sure how we can do this, but I will let you know if I come up with a solution."

  "I'll be thinking too, Prof. Although I believe your brain is more likely to come up with a solution than mine."

  Δ

  The more I thought about it, the less possible the Quatar mission appeared. Sitting there by myself in the crowded mess hall, staring at my untouched lunch, the situation appeared impossible. The Prof was now one of the most important people in Site S and Site S's mission was critical for the future of ConFree. The Prof had created an asset in Louie, and Louie had opened the ship for us and now he was chattering like a parrot, telling our scientists and techs all about the ship, the controls, Dimension X, the history of the Demon-Brights conflict, and seemingly everything he knew. He had been given a very large and luxurious living suite, and was being treated like a king. And now, on the very brink of success, Prof is going to ask for official leave to shoot off to the other side of the galaxy for a personal mission? No, that seemed very unlikely. And he certainly couldn't just disappear for a week or so from this top-secret installation – chances are high people would notice.

  "Prophet, do you have a frac?" Ice stood before me, beaming. She was positively glowing – I had never seen her so happy.