by James Palmer
“We have much to discuss, Batrachian,” said Rebani, “and I think we’ll be more comfortable inside.”
Ignoring the little amphibian’s protests, Rebani Kalba walked toward the unobtrusive door, carrying Omar Batrachian at arm’s length.
9 In Which a Turtle
Comes out of his Shell
The disused exterior of Omar Batrachian’s warehouse belied the advanced technology therein. The large building was empty but for a small office and large holotronic machines that hummed gently in the darkness.
The defenses that Rebani Kalba had sensed from the outside were plainly visible from the inside. The walls appeared to be a full yard thick, and the enormous holotronic components sat arrayed against them. Some of these doubtless provided the personality of the holo-receptionist, while others operated remote surveillance equipment and weaponry. The place was, as the Sabour had observed, more fortress than warehouse.
In the small, lit office, Rebani Kalba loomed over little Omar Batrachian, who, being only a yard tall himself, just reached the waistline of the Sabour. He seemed resigned to his situation.
“You seem to have surmised that I mean you no harm,” observed Rebani, watching the little amphibian closely.
“I’ve come to that conclusion, yes,” said Omar Batrachian, uneasily eyeing the tall Sabour. “If I am anything, I am an excellent judge of character.”
The two watched each other for long, quiet moments.
“I’ve done nothing to warrant your attention, Monitor,” Omar suggested in a naturally-hoarse voice, fidgeting with his monocle.
“Tell me what you know about the Sacred Heart gem,” instructed Rebani, as he gazed into Omar’s large, round, fish-like eyes.
“I don’t know anything about it,” Omar said sincerely, “other than what anyone knows about it.”
“Then perhaps you can explain how one of your datacards came to be in the possession of Dr. Jardin Fackler Pyx?”
“I was interested in buying the gem,” Omar Batrachian explained smoothly. He added, “That doesn’t mean I know more than anyone else about it.”
“You said ‘was interested’. Why aren’t you interested anymore?”
Without a moment’s pause, Omar explained, “I would still be interested, but Dr. Pyx seemed very adamant about not selling it. So, of course, I’ve given up buying it.”
“There wouldn’t be any stolen property in this building, would there?” asked Rebani, glancing conspicuously about the warehouse.
Omar Batrachian blushed a deeper shade of green. “What kind of businessman do you think I am?”
“The kind who might steal what he cannot buy,” suggested Rebani.
Omar Batrachian crossed his tiny arms to indicate he had decided to cease cooperating. Rebani watched him, as if to determine how much of Batrachian’s behavior was an act, and how much the truth.
Omar jumped suddenly at a noise from the back door, his large eyes goggling.
“My associate,” explained Rebani.
Bal Tabarin shortly stepped into the office. He looked first at Omar Batrachian, then at Rebani. “I guess you know that skimmer was auto-driven,” he said ruefully.
Rebani nodded. “I had a feeling.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Even I am wrong,” explained Rebani. “Occasionally. Better to have found out for certain.”
Bal shrugged, and gestured to the little amphibian. “Omar?”
Rebani nodded. “He hasn’t said so, but he is Omar Batrachian.”
Bal Tabarin made a motion with his fingers to indicate the use of the Sabour’s psionic abilities. Rebani nodded slightly in reply. Indeed, the little Sentient resembled the image on the datacard.
“What does he know?” asked Bal, who recognized the little amphibian as of the Tarbic race.
“More than he’s telling,” said Rebani. “Of that I’m certain. He seems to be resistant to my powers of persuasion.”
Bal conspicuously rested his hand on his blaze gun, now holstered at his side. “Then perhaps we should try some of mine.”
Omar Batrachian smiled broadly. “You two are quite a pair,” he said grandly. “But I don’t believe either of you would harm an innocent being – even one not so completely innocent, such as myself. I’ll stake my life on it.”
“You just have,” Bal said menacingly, glaring balefully at the little amphibian. “There’s harm and then there’s harm,” the Corruban added, clenching and unclenching a fist.
Omar Batrachian laughed a throaty laugh.
Rebani touched Bal’s arm, the one with the hand fingering the blazer. “I don’t believe he’s the one who stole the Sacred Heart.”
Omar Batrachian shuddered visibly at this news, his monocle falling from its resting place on his cheek. “The Sacred Heart’s been stolen?” he asked thickly. “When did this happen?”
“Six kilochronons ago,” said Rebani, watching the little amphibian closely. “More or less.”
Bal saw the effect the news of the theft had on Omar, and added, “Not long after you asked about it. Something of a coincidence, wouldn’t you say?”
Omar Batrachian muttered something in a low tone.
Bal tried to decipher the language Batrachian had spoken in, and decided he didn’t recognize it.
“He said, ‘they’ve got it, those double-crossers’,” explained Rebani. “Profanity followed.”
Omar Batrachian’s large eyes grew larger in surprise at the Sabour’s translation. He clamped his wide mouth shut with a loud smack of wide rubbery lips.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bal wondered aloud, then added, “Never mind. I know what it means literally. He thinks he knows who stole the Sacred Heart. But what does it mean to us?”
“More importantly,” said Rebani, eyeing Omar, “what does it mean to our little friend here? Who stole the Sacred Heart, Batrachian?”
Omar swallowed noisily, and said, “I’ve been working on this for more than a deca-KC. I want a cut in exchange for my help.”
Bal, ever mindful of finances, asked, “How much do you think that’s worth?”
“A few million econs,” said Omar, fingering his monocle. “That would amount to half the profits.”
“The Heart is worth less than that,” objected Bal. “Where’s all this money supposed to come from?”
Omar laughed heartily. “I’d venture a guess that you’re more shrewd than you appear. We all know there’s more to this than the Sacred Heart gem.”
Bal bared his teeth in a grimace; Batrachian knew the Heart was but a single piece of a larger gem as well. “Even so, a few millions is a lot of money.”
Omar held up his webbed hands humbly. “I am not a physically-inclined being. I could use the help of men such as yourselves. And you surely need the information I possess.”
Bal Tabarin pondered the deal.
“I have a counter-proposal,” interrupted Rebani. “We will go about our search, and you can go about yours.”
“How can you possibly hope to find the other gems without my information?” asked Omar.
Rebani Kalba did not reply. When it was plain that he would not tell Batrachian that they possessed another piece of the gem, Bal let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
Omar suddenly gasped as though he had been struck soundly in the gut. “You have one of your own,” he exclaimed in a low tone. “That’s how you learned there’s more than one of them.”
Bal Tabarin cringed at the sound of those words.
“Let me see it,” pleaded Omar, his slick demeanor gone.
“It’s back at the ship,” growled Bal, “and nobody’s seeing anything until we get things settled here.”
“Who are the others looking for the gems?” Rebani asked quietly.
“Their names wouldn’t mean anything to you,” said Omar, talking to Rebani, but watching Bal.
“Their names don’t seem worth millions then,” Bal retorted. Remembering the voucher Rebani had
offered him, he suggested, “We’ll give you a flat hundred thousand for the information.”
Omar Batrachian contemplated this offer. “Very well,” he said finally, “plus ten percent.”
Bal and Rebani exchanged glances.
“Ten percent of what, exactly?” asked Bal.
“Obviously, neither of you are collectors,” said Omar. “So I want ten percent of the price of the gems when they are sold.”
“Very well,” said Rebani.
Bal wasn’t sure what was going to happen when the pieces of the gem were found and assembled. He was certain, however, that the Sabour wasn’t going to sell them, or allow them to be sold. And, if by some miracle, he was wrong about Rebani, there would be enough money to go around that the Corruban wouldn’t miss ten percent.
“Agreed,” said Bal Tabarin, eyeing the little amphibian dubiously.
Looking first dramatically at Bal, then at Rebani, Omar Batrachian began his tale.
“Arga Cilus is the leader of the group, a Duhame. He was a highly respected collector of antiquities until he learned of the Sacred Heart. Or rather, I should say, learned that there was more than one Sacred Heart. He’s now completely obsessed by finding the other gems, and has been selling off other pieces in his collection to finance his quest.
“That was how I learned of the other Sacred Hearts ... he enlisted my aid.”
Bal glanced at Rebani, who gazed purposefully at the little amphibian. The Corruban thought he might be trying to determine if Batrachian was lying.
Bal realized that Batrachian, Arga Cilus, and the others might not know that the pieces fit together to make one larger gem. Batrachian hadn’t said so, and the Corruban had no intention of enlightening him.
Omar Batrachian continued.
“Arga Cilus is assisted by a sadistic killer who seems to have worked as a mercenary before being hired by Arga Cilus. I haven’t been able to find out anymore about him, although Arga Cilus refers to him as ‘the Colonel’.
“The final two members of the little group are Count Xiten and Princess Virga. Xiten’s title is almost certainly fake, while the princess’ is real, or rather, was real. She was ousted by her people for ‘financial negligence’. That was a polite way of saying that she spent the government treasury on an extravagant lifestyle. Naturally, as a princess, she felt she was entitled to it. She has a way of getting what she wants. Recently, that’s entailed the help of Xiten.
“The only information I’ve been able to find about Xiten was that there was a very minor actor by that name several deca-kilochronons ago, but there’s no physical resemblance between that actor and the ‘Count’.
“As to motive, Arga Cilus’ is most obvious – to him, the Sacred Hearts are the ultimate collectibles. Likewise, the Colonel serves Arga Cilus for money, at least, if nothing else. The Princess and Xiten are somewhat more difficult to understand. Princess Virga doubtless sees the gems as financially valuable, which they are, in addition to their beauty and scarcity. I suspect she harbors dreams of returning to power on her homeworld. It must have been an enormous blow to her ego to be exiled like some common criminal.
“About Xiten, who can say? His obvious motive is maintaining the affections of the princess. Make no mistake, that in itself is powerful inducement, but I feel there’s something deeper behind Xiten’s participation in the quest. What, I cannot guess, however.
“I don’t know how the princess and Xiten joined in the search for the other gems, how they came to be associated with Cilus.”
“That’s all you know about the others?” prodded Bal.
“Substantially so, yes,” answered Omar. When the Corruban squinted menacingly at him, the little amphibian added, “Everything pertinent, I mean.”
“You left part of the story out,” Bal said. He received a blank look from Omar Batrachian. Bal added, “The part where you learned about the existence of several Sacred Hearts, and where the others became ‘double-crossers’.”
Omar Batrachian smiled sheepishly. “A misunderstanding,” he explained.
“The kind where they thought you were going to do one thing, and you did another?” Bal asked.
Omar blushed a dark green. “Something like that,” the amphibian admitted.
“How many gems do they have, Batrachian?” asked Rebani.
Omar glanced at the Sabour, but was unable, or unwilling, to maintain eye contact. Bal Tabarin, noticing this, wondered if that was the key to Rebani’s abilities.
“My understanding is that Arga Cilus had one prior to my meeting with him. Undoubtedly, it was they who stole the original Sacred Heart from Dr. Pyx,” Omar said.
“What makes you so sure?” asked Bal.
Omar Batrachian frowned at Bal as if he were a child. “The Sacred Heart has sat undisturbed at Dr. Pyx’s for how many deca-KCs? Then, suddenly, shortly after I inquire about it, it’s stolen,” explained Omar in a frustrated tone. He fondled his cane thoughtfully. “They must have believed I was about to make a deal for it,” Omar said, half under his breath.
Bal asked, “Where can we find these beings now?”
Omar Batrachian shrugged. “Arga Cilus has a private yacht, the Inclarnefa, and enough money to hide his trail. They could be anywhere.”
Rebani withdrew a datacard voucher from under his cloak, and handed it down to the small Omar. “Here’s your down payment, Batrachian.”
Omar took the datacard in one small, webbed hand. “If I learn anything else, I’ll contact you.” He smiled ingratiatingly at the Sabour. “It’s in my best interest as well as your own that you find the other pieces before Arga Cilus and his associates.”
Rebani and Bal withdrew from the warehouse.
Walking back toward the parked skimmer, Bal asked Rebani in a pointed tone, “Was that the voucher?”
The Sabour’s brows knitted. “Of course. My word is my bond.”
“Like you giving Batrachian ten percent when the gem is sold?”
“If the gem is sold, and I am party to it,” stated Rebani, “Batrachian will receive ten percent of the sale price, as agreed.”
“You could split a cat’s whisker with that one,” Bal laughed. “We both know you have no intention of selling any of the gems. Admit it.”
Rebani climbed into the open cockpit of the skimmer. “I never said I did.”
Inside the warehouse office, Omar Batrachian sat at a half-sized desk, listening to a holotronic speaker. The words of the conversation of his two visitors came through clearly on the surveillance equipment of the building.
10 In Which the Wrong
Cows Come Home When the Gate is Left Open
Bilious yellow clouds floated silently across a blue-green sky like tumbleweeds rolling across a prairie as Rebani Kalba and Bal Tabarin returned to The Vagabond Lady, which peacefully sat, short and squat, in Garscon’s spaceport. Bal steered the skimmer up the entrance ramp into the ungainly spaceship’s spacious hold. Once a tramp freighter, it now carried surface vehicles for Bal’s numerous travels.
“How much of what Batrachian said was true?” he asked as the skimmer came slowly to a halt in the hold at the front of the ship.
“Two lies concealed every truth,” Rebani answered as he climbed from the vehicle. “Which leaves us just enough to go on, and no more.”
Bal swore softly under his breath as he returned the small blaze gun to the hidden compartment between the seats of the skimmer, and, departing the vehicle, followed Rebani from the bay. “He’s as slippery a customer as I’ve ever dealt with.”
Rebani Kalba walked up steps to the main deck of the ship, removing his greatcoat as he did so. “I also sensed that Batrachian was hiding something.”
“You said that he knows more than he’s telling,” suggested Bal as he caught up to the Sabour. “I’d bet Batrachian betrayed his former associates, not the other way around. He was too evasive about their parting.”
The two walked from the vehicle bay, Bal’s soft footfalls echoing slightly throug
h the corridor.
“I wonder what he’s hiding?” said Bal, thinking aloud. “Does he know more about the others, or more about the gems? Or more about the others’ search for the gems?”
As they reached the entryway of the ship, the Corruban halted, and added, “I’m going to see if I can verify any of Batrachian’s story.”
“The princess’ background would be the easiest to confirm,” Rebani suggested, also coming to a stop. He gazed levelly at Bal. “Accept nothing Batrachian said as truth until we verify it,” he instructed. “I don’t trust him entirely.”
Bal laughed gently. “You don’t trust anyone entirely.”
The Sabour’s reply was silence.
“What if he cashes the voucher and runs with the money?” Bal asked casually.
Rebani laughed harshly. “Do you think he would go to Palinquane to redeem the voucher if he had lied to us? He would be apprehended by the first Sabour who laid eyes on him. That the datacard is a voucher and not a bearer-bond gives us some guarantee Batrachian will deal honestly with us, if only as much as he must in order to cash the voucher.”
Bal didn’t comment on the fact that Rebani had first offered the voucher to him, and what that implied about the Sabour’s opinion of him.
“I’m going to rest and meditate while you conduct your investigation,” said Rebani Kalba as he turned and walked down a corridor toward his cabin.
Bal heard noises coming from the small galley farther down the passageway, and went to look inside. Josef stood ruefully pondering an unidentifiable food that had obviously stayed in the oven too long. The dish, whatever it had been, was now blackened and inedible.
