Four Tomorrows: A Space Opera Box Set

by James Palmer

  “The gem,” wheezed Arga Cilus from his hover sled. “Let me see it.”

  Xiten extended a hand, offered the box. Clutching it in his shrunken hands, Cilus opened the flesh-like container. His sallow face quickly mottled with purple blotches. “What is the meaning of this?!”

  “What do you mean?” Xiten demanded equally ferociously.

  Cilus, with as much strength as he could muster, roared, “The box is empty.”

  And so it was, they saw as the Osmot held the box so that all could see its interior.

  Rebani Kalba and Bal Tabarin were equally surprised to find that the jewel in their possession now consisted of three pieces of the original Sacred Heart gem.

  28 In Which a Family

  Reunion Occurs

  “Did you do that?” Bal Tabarin asked the Sabour, taking his gaze off the three pieces of the Sacred Heart, which had now become one. He had a hard time doing so, as he could barely believe his eyes.

  With a frown, Rebani replied, “No, of course not. The gem must have done it ... as it did before.”

  “Then why aren’t all the pieces already joined?”

  “I can only guess,” explained Rebani, “that either the distances are too far between them, or each fragment of the gem was too weak to do so by itself. As pieces are joined, the fragment grows more powerful.”

  “And?” Bal asked expectantly.

  “I feel that a combination of the two may be the true explanation,” answered Rebani. “However, there may be more to it than that. I feel that I am overlooking something ... I should meditate.”

  Returning the gem to its resting place, the Sabour removed his outer garments and seated himself, cross-legged, on the floor as the Corruban left the room.

  As before, Rebani Kalba saw the gem in humanoid form. This time, its features were clearer. The image of the gem resembled the Udehe himself. It disturbed Rebani for a reason that he could not pinpoint, and wondered what it meant. Did this come from within himself, or was the gem projecting the image? And if so, why?

  Rebani felt emotion emanating from the gem-being – it wanted to be whole, wanted it badly. The Sabour was inclined to think of the gem as a Sentient like any other, who, having been injured, wanted completeness again. But this was a dangerous view, as the gem was not sentient as defined by science. Did it want wholeness for a reason other than the anthromorphic one – what did it seek to accomplish once complete?

  Try as Rebani might, the gem resisted his attempts to communicate with it. He was more convinced than ever that it refused to do so, though it made its wishes clear: Re-unite us with our brothers.

  When he came out of his meditative trance, Rebani Kalba knew where the other fragments were.

  “It did not speak to me,” Rebani Kalba explained, “not precisely.”

  Bal Tabarin raised a bushy eyebrow in curiosity at this statement.

  “I feel its desire for wholeness,” explained the grim Sabour. “I know where it wants to go. There, we shall find more fragments, and if my theory is correct, more than the three that we possess.”

  That made sense to the Corruban: Single fragments had not been able to find one another – or at least teleport to one another – in untold millennia. It was only after two fragments had been joined that they began displaying awesome abilities, and even then, only over short distances. So the three fused fragments aboard The Vagabond Lady could probably only sense other pieces nearby and, and probably only if more than one were present. Probably … there were too many of those for Bal Tabarin’s tastes.

  Bal set his ship upon the course given to him by Rebani; the Moxlan system was not, as the Corruban had predicted, too far away, just a couple of systems distant from Covenant. The Monitor sat beside Bal in the cockpit of The Vagabond Lady, nestling the gem as if it were a baby.

  The Corruban couldn’t help but wonder if his companion had somehow fallen under the sway of the gem. He did not know the Sabour well enough to know if his manner was changed from before he had touched the first fragment, but he seemed different. Was Bal’s imagination running wild with worry?

  “Prepare to drop out of H-space,” Bal Tabarin warned when the ship reached the Moxlan system. The Vagabond Lady entered normal space smoothly, gracefully.

  The Corruban heard Rebani Kalba, beside him, gasp in alarm. When he twisted to see the cause, he saw that the gem was no longer in the Sabour’s hands.

  “Gone to join its brothers, I expect,” Rebani said slowly, still in shock.

  “Well, at least we know your theory was correct,” Bal Tabarin said grimly.

  Minutes later, the two men had found the location of the Sacred Heart – a huge yacht with the name “Inclarnefa” in Standard aboard its hull. The thing was monstrous, dwarfing The Vagabond Lady. It was, in fact, larger than some of the smaller military ships of the Galactic Union.

  Bal Tabarin opened a channel to the vessel. “Ahoy, Inclarnefa, this is the ship of Rebani Kalba the Sabour. We respectfully request an audience with the owner of your ship.”

  This was an agreed upon fiction to help speed things along; only Xiten would know Bal Tabarin’s name, and he may or may not have relayed this to his confederates – assuming he had them. At the very least, it seemed likely that the shapechanging actor was working with Chon – and possibly Omar Batrachian, as well. The two could not even be certain that Xiten was aboard; they guessed that he was, since the yacht was in such close proximity to Covenant.

  “Xiten is aboard,” Rebani said abruptly, confirming their hypothesis. “So is Chon ... and the Sacred Heart of the Universe.”

  “Eh?”

  “All of the fragments of the Heart are aboard that vessel, and once again whole. I can feel its elation at being complete once more.”

  This news made the Corruban nervous. With the abilities that fragments had thus far displayed, what was the whole gem capable of?

  An answer soon came from the yacht: “We respectfully decline your request.”

  Rebani spoke into the holophone. “Or I could summon a Union galleon to seize your vessel.”

  Moments passed. There was nothing the two men could do except wait. If this didn’t work, the Sabour would indeed have to exert his authority and call for a Galactic Union galleon. But that could take days to arrive.

  “Very well,” came the response finally.

  Then The Vagabond Lady was seized by the grappling beam of the Inclarnefa and drawn into its bay.

  “I hope this works,” Bal Tabarin breathed.

  Rebani Kalba gave his companion a grim smile. His eyes were hooded, obscuring their content.

  The two were met at the portal to The Vagabond Lady as they disembarked, and surrounded. Bal Tabarin lifted his jacket to show that he was not carrying a blazer, while Rebani Kalba had doffed his cloak. His clothing was too tight-fitting to conceal anything, which included the Sabour’s Veloceter. Still, the soldiers took no chances, scanning the pair, but finding nothing. They did not bother frisking either visitor.

  As they were taken through a winding maze of corridors, Bal tried to memorize the turns, expecting that he would likely have to leave in a hurry, and didn’t want to take a chance of getting lost; he had not had time to find deck plans for the massive yacht as he’d wished.

  Rebani’s expression was unreadable as they walked. The Corruban wondered what would happen when the Sabour came face to face, as it were, with the united Heart of the Universe ... or Chon the Nergon, for that matter. This situation was going to be tense enough without one of the Brotherhood of Sabour’s sworn enemies in the mix. But there was nothing to be done about that now, so Bal shrugged inwardly, and tried to prepare for anything that might occur.

  Suddenly, they were ushered into a large chamber filled with dim light and a pungent mist. It was here that the escort guards turned back. At the other end of this room stood a collection of Sentients that could only be described as a menagerie: the miniature-sized Omar Batrachian; Xiten, the shapechanger and his lover, the ol
ive-skinned Princess Virga; Chon the Nergon, whom Bal Tabarin knew from his single near-fatal encounter with the dark being; and two others, an enormously fat Duhame who rested upon a hoversled, and one who stood beside him, dressed in a military-style uniform matching that of the soldiers – the leader of the mercenaries, the Corruban guessed; he did not recognize this Sentient’s race. The insignia was familiar to him, however; he recalled it from the raid upon his own ship.

  And resting comfortably beside the Duhame on its own stand, the whole Heart of the Universe! It pulsed with soft light from within. It seemed to rock gently in its cradle, finally satisfied. As the two approached the others at the far end of the chamber, Bal saw that the inscription was now finally complete ... but could not translate it without the help of a computer.

  “So you’re a Sabour,” wheezed the Duhame. Beside him, Chon, surrounded by his many-headed pets, growled. “Oh, yes, our friend here confirms it.”

  The Nergon, his race skilled in empathy, could detect the presence of a Sabour as easily as the Sabour could detect a Nergon – or almost any other race, for that matter. The two sworn enemies stared at one another, seemingly ready to pounce at a moment’s notice.

  “If your pet understands Standard,” Rebani Kalba said coolly, “tell it that it is at a disadvantage, there being only one of it – and one Monitor. The Nerga were famed for their cowardice, ambushing Monitors in packs.”

  Even before the Sabour had finished speaking, Chon flung himself forward. Pushing Bal aside, Rebani swung a foot up, caught the Nergon in the head. He followed this with a kick with his other foot to the back of Chon’s leg. This brought the Nergon to the floor.

  “Enough!” wheezed the elephantine Duhame. “This is no way to treat our guests, Chon,” he scolded. “Or,” he added, “any way for our guests to act.”

  Rebani Kalba bowed curtly. “My apologies.”

  The Duhame returned the bow, rolls of sallow flesh jiggling at the effort. “I am Arga Cilus,” the enormous being introduced himself as Chon returned to his place beside the hoversled, never taking his eyes off the Sabour. “Some of my colleagues you know ... Colonel Morion is the head of my security.”

  “I’ll bet he also makes a swell Niknak fizz,” put in Bal, commenting on the Sentient’s ostentatious uniform. Morion’s dead face did not change expression at this remark, but his dead, black eyes bore into the Corruban, who said, “There are six of you and one gem. It was in pieces, and is now whole … and can’t be broken or cut apart. Not that you’d want to do that.

  “So how do you intend on dealing with that little problem? Some of you want to sell it, I’d wager, while others – such as Arga Cilus – wants to own it, possess it. I’ve been told that Chon wants to use it as a weapon. So what arrangement have the six of you come to regarding the disposition of the Heart?”

  Glances shot between the six members of the secret cabal.

  “We hadn’t gotten to that yet,” little Omar Batrachian said. Cannily, he was playing into Bal Tabarin’s gambit of sowing discord between those who sought the pieces of the Heart.

  “If you’ll forgive the impertinence,” interrupted Rebani, “that gem does not belong to you.”

  A hearty laugh that ended in a wheeze erupted forth from Arga Cilus. “And who does it belong to ... you?”

  “It belongs to itself,” the Sabour said. “It is a living being, of a kind that is unknown.”

  The huge Duhame started so suddenly that it sent a ripple through his sallow flesh.

  “I have no reason to lie,” Rebani continued. “You know that we Sabours have no interest in wealth. Therefore, I do not seek the gem for monetary gain. What is my motive for being here if I am lying?”

  Arga Cilus pondered this in silence.

  “You can’t be considering his claim, Arga,” Xiten protested.

  With red eyes, the Duhame peered through the mist at his colleague. “I am evaluating the sincerity of it, not the validity of it.”

  “I’ll save you the trouble of both tasks,” Rebani Kalba said. “I am taking the Heart with me when I leave this vessel.”

  As if responding to the Sabour’s words, the gem began to shudder in its cradle. And its glow began to brighten.

  It was then that all hell broke loose.

  29 In Which an

  Eagle Falls

  The Heart of the Universe began to glow so brightly it appeared on the verge of exploding. While the others were transfixed by the phenomenon, Rebani Kalba acted. Using psychokinesis, he drew his Veloceter to him from its hiding place behind Bal Tabarin’s back. There, it had rested, hidden by the Corruban’s distorter.

  Chon, sensing action within the Sabour, ordered his creatures forward. They scuttled along the floor, each of the creatures’ many heads hissing as they went, honing in on Rebani Kalba’s location by sound alone.

  Rebani blasted them with his Veloceter. Though momentarily thwarted, the serpent-like creatures renewed their progress, drawing another psychokinetic blast from the Sabour. The Monitor kept shooting them until they moved no more.

  Filled with rage, Chon charged forward. With the swipe of a claw, he tore the mind weapon from Rebani’s grasp.

  Almost as soon as the Sabour had gone into action, so had the others in the chamber. Bal Tabarin sprang at Colonel Morion, the only Sentient present who appeared to be armed. The Corruban rolled to the floor as the soldier pulled his blaze gun and fired. Bal came up close to him, thrust a fist into his gut. When Morion doubled over, Bal Tabarin grasped the pistol, tore it from his opponent’s grip.

  Arga Cilus’ hoversled retreated, as if the fat Sentient was afraid for his life. Omar Batrachian stayed close to him, seemingly for similar reasons.

  Pushing Virga for the door, Xiten ran to the pulsing gem, shielding his eyes from the brightness with a gnarled hand. With his other hand, he reached out for the Heart – then screamed in agony as the claw of a hand was obliterated by the energies of the mysterious jewel. Paralyzed by pain, Xiten could not move as the glow engulfed him, erasing his being from existence.

  From the door, Virga gasped in horror.

  Weird shadows danced in the chamber as the intense light from the Heart played over moving bodies. The ethereal light even cut through the exotic mist of Arga Cilus’ life support as the two enemies fought, rendering it transparent.

  Chon the Nergon was faster, stronger than Rebani Kalba. For every blow the Sabour landed, the Nergon scored two. These were brutal, leaving bloody scratches behind. It soon became apparent that Chon was not delivering killing blows, but strikes intended to bloody – and weaken – his opponent. He was enjoying the kill in a way that only Sentient beings can.

  Rebani’s blows were surgical, precision blows of the Noghrin martial art kamerat. Each time he struck Chon, he did damage. The Nergon soon found that his limbs were slow to respond to his mental commands. Slow to move, Rebani’s fist struck him full force, sending the Nergon to the floor.

  Chon kicked weakly up at the Sabour. Rebani knocked the leg aside with a foot. Then, with a death’s-head grin on his lean countenance, the Monitor knelt beside his foe for a killing blow.

  But before he could deliver it, a blob of plasma shot across the room and struck him in the chest. Rebani collapsed.

  Otherwise occupied, none saw where the blast had originated – except Omar Batrachian. In fact, he had gotten a very good view of it, since it had come from nearby – Arga Cilus’ hoversled, which, it was now apparent, was armed – and lethal.

  If the little Sentient was anything, he was a businessman, one who constantly made snap decisions based on the odds of available information. Omar Batrachian now calculated that the odds of his survival were better throwing in with the Sabour, whom he could trust if not respect, than with the huge Duhame, who could, at any turn, throw him to Chon’s creatures for the sheer sport of it. Therefore, he did the only thing that he really could do – and leveled his cane at the hoversled. The stick spat energy, itself a disguised needlebeam weapon. No
t being a plasma “blaze” weapon, the cane used old-style energy, which, though less powerful, was more concealable. It had eluded detection by Morion’s guards, as it had been designed to do.

  The little ray of light flashed out and struck the hoversled. Hitting a vital spot on the sled caused it to crash to the floor, dumping Arga Cilus unceremoniously. There, the Duhame quivered helplessly, dying as he was disconnected from the sled’s life support apparatus.

  A vibroblade slithered from Colonel Morion’s sleeve and slashed out at Bal Tabarin. It caught the blaze gun, began eating through it as metal rent metal. As its name suggested, the blade of the power weapon vibrated, which vastly increased its lethality.

  The Corruban wanted to let loose of the pistol. That’s what instinct told him to do. But he fought the feeling, and swung his other fist. While Morion was focusing on the vibroblade, he left his face unguarded. The fist connected. Morion staggered back, kept upright only by his grip on the vibroblade. Letting loose of the entangled pistol, Bal kicked the colonel in the gut. When Morion collapsed, the Corruban came forward and stepped on his foe’s forearm, trapping the vibroblade.

  Morion kicked up, catching Bal off guard. The Corruban fell on top of the colonel. The two struggled, trading blows as Bal fought to keep the vibroblade, now loose of the useless pistol, from coming in contact with his skin. Once the blade had taken hold, it would continue to chew its way through flesh and bone, until irreparable damage had been done.