The Fires Of Hell

by Craig Robertson

  “No, you don’t. You just are pissed because I’m grosser than you and smarter. Cala’s disdain comes from a womanly place you and I can’t access.”

  I spun him around and shoved him toward the bedroom, where Mirri was still feeding the kids. I could tell he wanted to call me to task on my choice of words and the tone I used to express them. I may have hurt his feeling some. But, he needed guy-wisdom, something he'd never get on Rameeka Blue Green if it didn't come from me.

  I found the main reservoir of home brew Slapgren had produced and spent the next ten hours drinking and reflecting on family life, all aspects of it. The joy and the sorrow, the precious bonds and the annoying links, the wonder of it and the tragedies it spawned. I passed many an hour debating whether I missed it or not. When dawn rolled around and Cala emerged from her hiding place, I was still undecided.

  “Good morning, Cala,” I beamed.

  “Please, human, not so happy or energetic, so early.”

  “Not a morning dragon, are we?”

  She gave me a what I would come to call the if-Cala-could-kill-me look. I was honored to have gotten under her skin. I was aware thought that the look was intense.

  “You don’t sleep or power down do you?” she asked through a yawn.

  “Not usually. Most of the times I do are to irritate my ship’s AI, Al.”

  “You could try to irritate me by sleeping a lot.”

  Yeah, there was humor in there somewhere.

  “So, how are my kids coming along, you know, compared to past students?”

  She wiggled a hand in the air. “Better than most, not as good as a few. But they’re still young. They show great promise, especially the girl.”

  “Not so much my boy?” That deflated me for some reason.

  “No, he’s the strongest var-tey I’ve ever stood next to. No, it’s that she’s so powerful. If she works hard, she’ll dwarf my powers in no time at all.”

  With a twinkle in my eye, I asked, “You tell her that?”

  “No. Are you crazier than you look and act? I torture her as being weak and unmotivated. If I even hinted at her potential future, she’d likely rest back on her haunches. I’ve seen it may times before.”

  “I can well imagine. When will they be complete?”

  “Why do you ask?” she replied spying up with one eye.

  “You’re as tough as my ex-wife’s fried chicken. I ask only because I’m curious. I am not scheming to take them away from you the day they fully ripen.”

  “You wouldn’t be the first.”

  I could only shrug. Then I got serious. “What are you going to do about them being the last breeding pair? Unless you’re planning on getting back in the game, there looms an ethical dilemma on the horizon. A rather daunting one.”

  She moved to sit. “I realize that, of course. Then I remind myself, what is there to do? Fortunately, the two of them love each other and are producing offspring. I can only let nature take the course it will. I can aide the last Deft, but I am powerless to control the fate of my species.”

  “That’s kind of what I figured.” I lowered my head a moment. “And you’re sure there are no others out there?”

  She shook her scaly head very sadly. “I sense none.”

  “You didn’t sense me after I left this universe,” I responded optimistically.

  “It is unlikely any Deft are alive in parallel universes. We were never very interested in such matters, nor technically gifted.”

  “Well, you can never abandon all hope.”

  She angled her head. “Why not? Giving up on a fantasy makes the real world a little less painful.”

  “I hear you there, sister.”

  “I bet you do. Being a sole survivor is never an easy thing. Being extremely old is even harder. Combine the pair and sadness is guaranteed.”

  “Amen, I say to you, priestess.”

  “Jon, you do not know our ways, so I must react to much of what you culturally butcher with forbearance. But please know that is a sensitive bone. I am a brindas, a teacher, a master at magic. I am not a spiritual leader of any ilk.”

  “Okay, sorry.”

  “You could not have known.”

  “Are there … were there priests and priestesses?”

  “Naturally. They were influential for a spell long ago. Then they fell into disgrace and then anonymity. Their class has not been among the masses for centuries, longer now that I think about it.”

  “So, they screwed up and paid the price?”

  “One could say that.”

  “How would you characterize it?”

  She turned to face me directly. “If there were other Deft alive, the matter would be too private to discuss. But, as there are none, I am free to tell you. Long ago, a struggle for the hearts and minds of the populace developed between the religious leaders and the brindas. They attempted to paint us as purveyors of dark arts, ungodly ones at that. We fought back fairly, at least initially. Then it became such a muddle. One was either with one side and against the other, or the reverse. Times grew violent, and life was burdensome.”

  “Who won in the end?”

  “Really you ask, Jon Ryan? Who would you have wagered on. The smarmy religious types who claimed always to need more money to fight our evil or the magical creatures with talons like these?”

  “I’m betting you guys won.”

  “We all lost. The priestly class just lost the most. Ultimately they became social pariahs and faded away.”

  “The Deft sound very human-like.”

  “Now let’s not get insulting. We had a cultural hiccup. You guys spent eternity bashing each other over the head long after you’d could recall why you were doing it.”

  Mirri came in with a child in each arm. She came right to me. “Here, Uncle Jon, you hold Ryan. I have to change Jon. Trust me, you’re getting the better deal.”

  “For which I’m grateful,” I teased back.

  “Do you require my help?” volunteered Cala. “I can change the child.”

  Mirri started to refuse, then it hit her. Why not? “Sure, if you don’t mind getting grossed out this early in the morning.”

  “I’ve been sitting here talking with that.” She pointed at me. “A loaded diaper is much less emotionally disturbing.”

  Mirri handed over Jon and poured two mugs of tea. “Time to switch to unleaded,” she quipped as she set mine down.

  “Why I never. And here I am an honored guest, your uncle, and your savior all rolled into one handsome ball.”

  “Yeah, right. Sugar?”

  “Two scoops. I need something sweet in my life.”

  “I’d boohoo for you, but I might spill some sugar. It doesn’t grow on trees, you know.”

  “Lord I miss you, sweetheart.”

  “I miss you more than you can know.”

  “But now you don’t have time even if you wanted to. Two rug rats running around, a husband hornier that Cala’s head, and a bun in the oven.”

  “Crude, but accurate as always. My life’s a sprint from here to there and back again. Luckily Cala has lightened up on my study time, otherwise I’d go nuts.”

  “You’re kidding. The heartless lizard cut you some slack?”

  “Not one tiny inch. She quite impossible.”

  “I know. Look on the bright side. She has to drop dead at some point. Then you’re home free.”

  “What a thing to hope for. That the only other Deft alive might drop dead. I’ve so missed your morning cheer, Uncle.”

  “You’re welcome. And I do two shows on Sunday.”

  “Will wonders never cease? I pray they will, but my prayers must be weak.”

  “Don’t kid yourself, kid. Prayers don’t work on me. I told you about my new godfather Ralph, right?”

  “I’m positive he’s saying them about you too. No one lasts that long without an ace in the hole for the Jon Ryans of the world.”

  I switched to subject. I knew my visit would be brief, and I didn’t w
ant to snark it all away. “So, look me in the eye and tell me you two are happy.”

  Mirri sat daintily in the chair next to mine and folded her hands in her lap. “Yes, Uncle Jon, we are very happy.” One. Two. Three. “Cala and I are very happy together.”

  We burst out snickering. It was sublime.

  I patted a digit on her nose. “You know, you’re not too big to spank, pregnant or not.”

  “I miss you so much my bones itch,” she said.

  “Okay, odd visual, but thanks. You and Slapgren are good?”

  She took my hands in hers. “We couldn’t be happier or luckier.”

  “That’s all I really need to hear.”

  “I know. You must go soon.”

  I squinted at her. “You knew?”

  She shrugged one shoulder. “It’s a brindas thing. I’ll wake Slapgren and retrieve Jon. We all need to be there to say goodbye.”

  I touched her lips with a fingertip. “Never goodbye, sweetie. Just until next time.”

  She rested my hand against her cheek and began to cry. “Until next time. Always.”

  TWENTY

  I had Stingray land us on a planet in the three-to-five-years-left-before-doomsday zone. It was an A (+1) class civilization, so I felt it was a viable candidate. Smart humanoids. Oh boy, my peeps. Langir was slightly larger than the Earth, but otherwise quite similar in terms of geographic and environmental conditions. The best part was it was still free of Adamant rule. That meant I could study it openly from orbit and land wherever I was allowed. What a luxury. I missed free space travel with only pirates and corrupt local officials to fear. Ah, the good old days.

  There were several large cities on the planet, all with large spaceports. There existed a few divergent racial and political divides on Langir, but they got along well and were not currently at war. I randomly picked the third largest spaceport to land. Maybe three would be my lucky number. By the time Stingray opened a hatch and the fresh air hit me in the face, I had a fully functional translation program of the local language. I was beginning to feel sorry for this mission. It was so easy and certainly no match for the planet buster, Jon Ryan.

  As I’d done long ago, I walked the streets quietly for some time. The city, Mushilko, was huge, but most definitely not bustling. Odd. It reminded me of Beijing back in the late twentieth century, minus millions of people. There were a smattering of humanoids going about their business, so I was somewhat reassured there hadn’t been a calamity or mass exodus. But, if I closed my eyes, I could easily fool myself into believing I was in the country, sheep nipping at my heels and all. I kind of liked it, but shoulder-to-shoulder was what the city’s construction suggested to be expected.

  The Ckarloz, as the local species dubbed itself, was remarkably human-like. I’d have to make it a point to scan someone at some point. Maybe these, like the people of Ungalaym, actually were human descendants. That would be awesome. The males were a bit shy of six feet, on average, weighing in around one hundred seventy-five pounds. Some were my size at six two. The females were smaller than proportional based on homo sapiens. I calculated the ones I saw averaged five feet one and just over one hundred pounds. Back home, these gals’d all shop in the petite section of the department store. I had to say, some of the woman looked down right hot to me. Then again, I was a sailor who’d been at sea a long time. The Ckarloz speech sounded very human, though obviously the language itself was radically different. I was beginning to feel very optimistic about my mission.

  Anyone how’d known me well understood the meaning of that expression of hope. Yup. The bottom was soon to drop out. My SOP in gathering intel was to hit a bar, the sleazier the better. I did not enter to drink and debauch. No, I did so because dive bars were the best reservoirs of local knowledge held by tongues pre-loosened with intoxicants. The Als had fabricated me a boatload of cash, and I was eager to spend some money.

  I walked confidently into an establishment with a sign outside that read Only If You Dare. Now seriously, how was I going to pass that one by? No way. Damn if I wasn’t three steps in the door when a claxon sounded off so loudly I nearly jumped out of my hide. I spun to determine the sound’s significance. As I did, the bartender whipped around the bar with what looked all the world like a double-barreled shotgun in his arms. He jogged up to me, pointed to the door, and shouted, “Out.”

  Huh? No way. “I beg your p—”

  He cocked back the huge hammers of the gun, one at a time. “I said out once. Next time the order will be in buckshot.”

  “Okay, I’m going. But why? I got cash money and a powerful thirst.”

  “Tell it to someone who cares, robot.”

  Robot. How … why …

  He prodded me with the barrels. “I don’t want to have to pay for your repairs, even though your owner ain’t got the sense to program you not to bother good folk.” He shoved me hard toward the door.

  Apparently, there was some critical aspect of this culture I’d failed to discover before this outing. As I left, I made it a point to rest me left hand on the door frame. That way I could probe the walls. Sure enough, there was a sophisticated X-ray machine monitoring the entry. WTF? If you couldn’t visually tell I was a robot, what did it matter?

  Crazy planet. I was ready to let the Adamant swallow it whole. I’d never shed a tear. Then I remembered the bigger picture. Unity in resistance was the only hope to slow their advance and splinter the empire. I needed to regroup and figure out what the robophobia was all about. It was back to Stingray for me.

  “Welcome back, Pilot,” Al boomed before I even stepped through the opening. “You’ve rallied the natives, subdued all forms of dissent, and conquered all the eligible female in record time. Strong work. What’s our next destination? Or, wait, do you require some rest? I know feats such as this do not get easier for a two-billion-year-old android.”

  Smug son of a bitch.

  “Unless you broke with protocol, you heard and witnessed exactly what I did. Now, if Amateur Comedy Hour is over, may we settle in to finding out why what happened happened?”

  “If you’d like to, we can settle in,” said Stingray.

  “But. Please begin editing in the buts you imply, Stingray.”

  “But I feel Al and I have an accurate idea what cultural impediments blocked your progress.”

  “I’m dying to hear it,”

  “If only that were the case,” said my useless Al.

  “The Ckarloz people are indeed quite humanoid. They also have the technical capabilities to produce a wide range of AI and robotic units. The twist here is that the life forms detest the mechanical ones.”

  “Wait, are you trying to tell me they hate the machines they themselves built? That’s nuts.”

  “We did say they were remarkably humanoid,” replied Al.

  “That’s so funny I forgot to laugh,” I snapped back.

  “Would you like us to leave you alone for a while so you might remember how to laugh?” asked Stingray.

  “No, dearie humps, I don’t think the pilot needs a break at this juncture.”

  “Do robots perform the standard labor jobs here?” I asked. “Let me turn that around. Are there any tasks robots are excluded from?”

  “Only casual interactions with the Ckarloz are permitted. Mechanical life may only speak if spoken to.”

  “Then why don’t the Ckarloz get rid of the machines they can’t stand?”

  “That is unclear. There are many able-bodied live workers present, so there would not be a labor crisis if robots were to disappear.”

  “Crap. For the first and only time since I took him prisoner, I could really use Garustfulous. His only redeeming quality was that he was alive. I could have used that now.”

  “Or attempt to learn the reasons from the robots. They are unlikely to dislike their own kind.”

  “Good idea, Al. See, you can he helpful once every other blue moon. You two keep digging. I’ll hit the road to try and pump the local robots for infor
mation.”

  “Form, so you don’t waste your time, none of the robots we’ve surveyed so far have functional pumps.”

  “Thanks, Stingray. Now I don’t have to embarrass myself more than the usual.”

  “You’re most welcome. Any time,” she replied happily. Stingray liked to help others.

  I looked like one of the living Ckarloz, certainly close enough to be mistaken for one. I just needed to avoid an X-ray or metal detected array, and then I’d be able to parlay with a local. If that failed, I’d try communicating with some of the robotic units.

  I walked intently about the city looking for a lone individual in an open setting, say a park or grassy field. I’d find an excuse to converse with them and befriend them in a snap. After all, I had an infectious personality. Toward the city-center, I spied a man sitting quietly on a park bench munching slowly on his bag lunch. Perfect. A loner seeking solitude. Him I could bully—I mean tempt—into conversation. I stopped next to his bench and studied the tree giving him shade. It was a bazmore tree, like a maple. I’d looked it up.

  I made a show of squinting, since living eyes looking up needed to squint. I shielded my eyes with one hand. I walked halfway around the tree, then back to stand beside the lunch goer.

  “Do you think this bazmore is healthy?” I asked generally.

  The man completely ignored both me and my query. Hmm.

  “I say, my good man, what is your opinion as to the health of this shade tree? I think the leaves show rust atypical for this early in the year.”

  That brought a response. He turned his head in my direction several millimeters, then quickly relaxed it back, as he stared blankly into the distance.

  I sat next to him, touching hip to hip. “Am I disturbing you, or do you simply not have an opinion on dendrologic health?” I scooted even closer, sliding him along a little to his left.

  That did it. I’d wrung his bell. He daintily set his sandwich down on the napkin in his lap and daubed the corners of his mouth with a second napkin held in his hand. “If you do not leave me in peace, I shall force your owner to decommission you. You are guilty of seven terminable offenses since you walked into my view. Were it not my lunch hour, the jewel in the crown that is my otherwise miserable day, I would summon a field officer.”