Four Tomorrows: A Space Opera Box Set

by James Palmer

  “Not very practical,” Bal observed.

  “No, not very,” agreed Rebani. “But we must all do as we must.”

  Bal Tabarin frowned at his companion’s fatalism. “Life isn’t that cut and dry.”

  “Life is precisely that,” Rebani said curtly. “Life is a series of chemical reactions, with each being composed of emotional chemicals. When two substances meet, the outcome is predetermined, based on the individual composition of each substance; it will always be the same as long as the beginning chemicals are the same.”

  Bal’s frowned deepened.

  “Each substance changes with each new reaction, as new and different chemicals are added to the mix, but the laws governing the reactions remain the same,” Rebani elaborated. “By the time a being reaches adulthood, he has experienced nearly all the new situations he will ever encounter – to varying degree – and remains essentially unchanged until he dies.”

  Bal raised one furry eyebrow in skepticism.

  “Have you ever known a being to truly change,” Rebani continued, “unless confronted with something entirely new to him, such as failing health or sudden wealth? Some sort of trauma?”

  Bal Tabarin scowled at the Sabour. “Just because part of your theory fits doesn’t mean the whole thing is true. I still believe in free will.”

  Rebani shrugged. “Beings may choose, but usually do not.”

  “And our relationship is predetermined?” Bal asked skeptically.

  Rebani silently nodded.

  “And?” prompted Bal.

  A sudden light flickered in the Sabour’s green eyes. “You will regret meeting me,” he said softly.

  Bal felt as if he’d been slapped across the face, more surprised than hurt at the words. After an uncomfortable silence, he asked, “How did you come up with this theory of yours?”

  Bal wondered what experiences had driven the Sabour to this grim view of Life; were all the Udehe like this?

  Rebani Kalba smiled grimly. “I am the sum of my chemicals.”

  “You’re a piece of work is what you are,” Bal said, shaking his head. “Are all the Udehe so grim? Or all the Sabours so humorless?”

  “I am who I am,” Rebani responded coldly. “Idle speculation will not change that.”

  “Have you never experienced joy?” Bal pressed the grim Sabour. “Haven’t you ever been in love?”

  “Once,” Rebani said quietly, almost to himself, his emerald eyes hooded. “A very long time ago ….”

  Lum Arispasia spoke forcefully, so that those around him would remember his words. “Purpose drives the Monitor. It is his determination to accomplish which makes his feats possible.”

  His listeners, gathered at his feet, were half a dozen young beings, Humans, humanoids and aliens, Sabours-in-training, sitting cross-legged on the floor. Lum halted suddenly, and students’ heads turned to see a young Human enter the classroom. He approached the elder man, a Perduunite, a race descended from arboreal rodents, and spoke to the teacher briefly.

  As the messenger left, Lum motioned with his three-jointed fingers to young Rebani Kalba, a promising student from the planet Udehle. Even at this stage of training, Rebani moved easily, gracefully, as he rose from the floor, and walked toward Master Arispasia.

  Worry congealed on Rebani’s hawk-like features as he felt the sorrow – fuzed it – radiating from the older man. He got no more than this glimpse of emotion when Master Arispasia spoke in a voice so low no other in the room could hear, using the Sabour trick of directing the voice.

  The words erupted in Rebani’s ears. “Eriskaye Sideran has died.”

  Rebani saw the room go gray, and the sounds in the classroom become an indistinct garble of noise. He heard Lum Arispasia’s voice – urgent, concerned – but couldn’t make out the words. They were far-away gibberish now.

  Rebani Kalba spun, and rushed from the room.

  With dark, feeling eyes, Lum Arispasia watched him go. Rebani Kalba was impulsive, and emotional, a dangerous combination which the Perduunite had seen before. Lum briefly considered following the youth, but knew it would do no good. The Udehe was most of the most headstrong students that the little Perduunite had ever taught.

  It was night on Telaquine when Rebani Kalba arrived weeks later, eyes red-rimmed, face haggard. He appeared to have aged a decade during the brief journey to Eriskaye’s homeworld. Rebani was drained, emotionally and physically.

  He silently made his way through the darkened city that was briefly lit by flashes of lightning, never daring to look anyone in the eyes as he did so. He might have been a wraith, for all the disturbance his passage made. Rebani shortly arrived at the Sideran cemetery, where generations of the family had been buried.

  Treading lightly through the grounds, he found Eriskaye’s tomb, new and unsullied by the elements.

  Rebani stood for long, silent moments, tears welling up in his eyes, until finally, like a dam bursting, he openly wept, the tears pouring forth. He dropped to the ground, and ran his fingers over the circular metal nameplate in the soil which marked Eriskaye’s tomb, feeling the raised letters there, as he clung to the last of her presence.

  The untarnished disc should have read “Eriskaye Kalba”. They had been cheated out of that fate.

  Eriskaye, with her heart-shaped face, and red hair like burnished bronze, and laugh that reminded Rebani of chimes tinkling ….

  Rebani collapsed upon the tomb, and wept bitterly, silently screaming his rage against an uncaring universe.

  The bright Telaquine sun rose as it did every day, its white light bathing the pink Telaquine sky. The groundskeeper, as he did every morning, made his rounds of the cemetery, inspecting the place, prioritizing what needed to be done that day, and what could wait for another.

  He saw an amorphous, dark blob in the section of newer tombs, and, shovel in hand, approached the prone figure, calling out as he did so. It wasn’t unusual for youths to creep into graveyards at night; they were easily shooed away in the light of day.

  The figure didn’t move, and, for a moment, the groundskeeper, believing him dead, thought that it would serve one of the young hooligans right to die in the cemetery. But as he got closer, the groundskeeper realized that the person was a full-grown man, curled up over a tomb. He called out once again, and again received no response.

  As he approached the man, the groundskeeper recognized that the tomb was only a few weeks old, and realized, with empathic sadness, that this visitor was a mourner.

  Cautiously, he prodded the prone figure with the end of his shovel. The man didn’t register the action. Heart racing, the groundskeeper knelt beside the man, and felt for a pulse. He was surprised when he found one, and decided the man had fallen asleep.

  The groundskeeper gently shook the man, sorry for having to do so. The prone figure didn’t respond, and the groundskeeper turned him over. In a hawk face, the man’s dull, green eyes were open, but seemed not to register the surroundings. Watching closely, the groundskeeper observed the man’s chest rise and fall in shallow breaths. He questioned the mourner, but he seemed oblivious to the groundskeeper’s presence.

  The groundskeeper gave up, and summoned the authorities. Later, he heard the man had been taken to a hospital.

  Rebani Kalba’s face was like stone when Lum Arispasia saw him. The softness, the joy that had been there was gone. “I grieved with you,” the ancient teacher said quietly.

  His former student ignored this statement, and said, “I have returned to complete my training.”

  “My class is gone,” replied Master Arispasia, gesturing to the empty room. An uneasy silence followed. Finally, in a voice Lum did not recognize, Rebani said, “This is all I have left.”

  “You are a different man than the one who departed,” observed Lum, watching Rebani intently, dark eyes unreadable. “You have endured great loss.”

  Lum Arispasia watched his former student for long moments. “I’m uncertain whether this has strengthened you, like a blade
being tempered in a forge, or weakened you, like metal bent too far out of shape ... to its breaking point”

  Rebani Kalba returned the gaze, green eyes glittering, smouldering like two hot coals. “I was meant to be a Monitor.”

  “That is true,” replied the teacher. The Perduunite had a feeling about the young Udehe, and he was one who trusted his feelings. Rebani was a combination of justice and compassion. “But I wonder if you can be. You had the promise of being a great Monitor.”

  “I still do,” Rebani replied, a hint of desperation in his voice.

  “We will see, Rebani Kalba,” Lum Arispasia contemplated, having decided to tutor the young Udehe alone. “We will see.”

  Rebani Kalba bowed slightly, and left the room. Lum Arispasia watched him as he did so, and the old Perduunite wondered if he was doing the right thing.

  Rebani Kalba gazed levelly at Bal Tabarin, eyes glittering like emeralds. “But that is unimportant now.”

  A profound pity seized Bal Tabarin. He glanced away in discomfort. When his gaze returned to the Sabour, a far-away look was on Rebani’s hawk-like features. The Monitor’s face suddenly grew tight.

  Through a thin line of a mouth, Rebani Kalba said, “Death is on its way.”

  At that moment, a sleek, dark cruiser appeared high in the green sky of Fusail.

  17 In Which a Chain’s

  Strength is Tested

  “That will do more damage than good,” Rebani Kalba said to Bal Tabarin, referring to the latter’s blazer. Bal had retrieved his spare weapon from the skimmer.

  “You don’t think I’m going to leave you here alone?” Bal asked gruffly, baring his teeth in a grim smile. The Sabour had persuaded the Museum staff to evacuate the building.

  Rebani gazed levelly at his companion. “I wish you would. I cannot guarantee your safety if you choose to stay. My focus will be on protecting the gem.”

  Bal returned the look, wondering if this was the occasion which Rebani had predicted would make him regret meeting the Sabour.

  Rebani Kalba smiled grimly. “I have not foreseen your death at this place, if that gives you any peace of mind.”

  Bal frowned at the Sabour. “I wish you wouldn’t do that.”

  But Rebani’s words did give Bal Tabarin some measure of reassurance, although the Sabour hadn’t said that he’d foreseen Bal surviving this situation, either. That was another reason Bal Tabarin didn’t believe in prophecy; it was all too ... mysterious. Either the future was immutable or it wasn’t; you couldn’t have it both ways, claiming some things were predestined to happen and others not. Fate didn’t work that way, if there was such a thing. And Bal wasn’t convinced there was.

  “I wish the museum had turned over custody of the gem to us,” Bal said as he checked the energy level of his weapon; a single grain of bdellium normally powered a blaze gun for several years, but the Corruban wanted no mishaps now.

  “I, too,” agreed Rebani solemnly.

  “Any idea what this danger is?” he asked Rebani.

  “It has caused many deaths,” Rebani answered. “And it is evil, very evil.”

  The Sabour turned to gaze at the crystal fragment in its plasteel case. “The gem knows it, too. It is perturbed.”

  “What does that mean?” asked Bal, glancing at the gem.

  “I’m not certain,” replied Rebani, green eyes glittering thoughtfully. “I am unable to determine if it is afraid, worried or in pain. All I can tell you with any certainty is that the gem is agitated.”

  “Maybe it’s just excited?” suggested Bal.

  “I sense a definite feeling of agitation,” answered the Sabour. “And it was not agitated until I felt the approaching danger.”

  “You said it wanted out, before you sensed this ‘danger’,” Bal pointed out. “What if it sensed the ‘danger’ before you did, and the danger is to us, not the gem?”

  Rebani seemed to consider this. “No, it is troubled by the approaching danger, not anticipating it.”

  “I wonder why?” Bal asked idly, almost to himself, watching the gem.

  “How long do we have to wait?” he asked finally, tension creeping into his voice.

  “Not long.”

  Hours passed as day turned into night. Fusail, a tiny world, spun rapidly about its axis. Its day was barely half the length of the standard “solar”, which, due to the many, many worlds in the galaxy, was used only for bookkeeping purposes.

  Rebani Kalba sat, legs crossed, near the solitary case of the gem, which had been moved to a currently unoccupied showroom, for the protection of the other relics in the Museum. The Sabour was certain that the gem was involved.

  The Udehe Monitor’s eyes were closed in meditation. He had informed Bal Tabarin, who now lounged in one corner of the room, that his own senses were better than any security system the museum might have in place.

  Bal sprang to his feet as if propelled by force when Rebani abruptly rose and donned his greatcoat. As Bal approached, getting his blazer into his hand, the Sabour turned to him.

  “It is time,” he explained calmly. “Be prepared for anything.”

  Bal Tabarin took up a position near the wide doorway to the showroom, training his blazer down the long corridor.

  Abruptly, darkness bathed the area. The lights had gone out. In the blackness, neither Bal nor Rebani spoke.

  Bal felt along the blazer with a hand, and adjusted the range-finder of the weapon. Operating by sending out a signal and registering the position of objects the beam struck, the range-finder could function as primitive vision in the dark. Anything that moved while in the range-finder’s beam would cause an audible tone, and Bal would know to fire the weapon – and where.

  Not the optimum situation, Bal Tabarin conceded, but there was nothing to be done about it now; his night-vision gear was still on The Vagabond Lady.

  A soft hissing sound came from the far end of the corridor. Bal pointed the blazer down the hallway, toward the noise.

  Nothing moving.

  Bal realized he was sweating in nervous anticipation, and tamped his brow.

  The soft grating noise grew louder, until it filled the hallway. The range-finder chimed. Bal squeezed the trigger of the weapon. Hot plasma ejected from the barrel. A soft thud sounded. Bal saw dark shapes writhe in the soft afterglow of the plasma burst.

  The hissing subsided briefly then resumed as loud as before. It had surprised quality to it, if that were possible.

  Moments passed. The range-finder remained silent. The hair on the back of Bal’s neck rose stiffly as he waited, the hissing growing louder as seconds ticked by. Bal fought his growing feeling of fear. He wasn’t accustomed to the emotion, and experiencing it now made him more afraid.

  In a panic, Bal waved the blazer around until the range-finder chimed, then squeezed the trigger.

  Another thud.

  They have some way of maneuvering in the darkness, Bal realized – they’re trying to avoid the blaze gun.

  Whatever “they” were, he added, grimly.

  Bal Tabarin swung the blazer around, and finding a target, fired again. He kept at this, the range-finder chiming almost continuously in one rising tone, indicating that the targets were growing closer and closer, until he realized, with horror, that there were too many of them. He had dropped a half dozen of them and they were still coming.

  Bal spun and darted back into the big room. He used the range-finder to locate the single showcase, and took up a position behind it.

  He wondered where Rebani was and what he was doing.

  Suddenly, Bal heard the Sabour’s voice in his ear: “Don’t blaze me.”

  The hissing noise had reached the arched doorway to the big room, then stopped there.

  In the darkness, Bal heard one gasp, then another. Soft, dull sounds emanated from the doorway, like those of several heavy cloths being dropped. The hissing, growing louder, took on an angry tone.

  The collection of soft thuds, gasps and hisses came closer. The combat
had entered the room, Bal realized.

  Then one hiss broke off from the others. It came swiftly toward Bal. He raised the blaze gun, and fired. A body dropped at his feet. In the dull glow of cooling plasma, Bal Tabarin saw a man-sized being prone on the stone floor. It had many heads – but no eyes. It was a hydra, of old Earth legend, but blind.

  In the mélange of moving forms, Rebani Kalba twisted and thrusted as if on marionette strings, silently striking the weird eyeless, hissing beings in vulnerable spots about their anatomy. Bodies, unseen in the darkness, littered the floor.

  The monstrous beings were fast, and armed with razor-sharp teeth. The Sabour’s armor-like greatcoat had turned aside most of the serpentine creatures’ attacks. Somewhere behind the awful beings’ assault Rebani felt the presence of another, a dark being who controlled the monstrosities. He was near.

  The Sabour slashed and kicked at the creatures. Overwhelmed by the sheer number of them, Rebani staggered back into the room, forced away from the showcase which held the gem. For every one he dispatched, two took its place. Even now, some were beginning to get by him, into the room where the gem rested.

  Rebani felt the gem growing more agitated – not fear, but dread, he thought. They sensed the intentions of the intruder. The Sabour pushed this from his mind as he concentrated on combat.

  As each hissing form neared the showcase, Bal Tabarin blazed it. He and Rebani were being overwhelmed. In the back of his mind, the part that was always a scientist, Bal pondered the weird creatures, which seemed to use their hissings as a sort of sonar, navigating in a manner similar to his blaze gun’s range-finder.