Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN





He liked Victor. Victor was honest. Victor was loyal. Victor could always be counted on to do the right thing. He wished he could be more like Victor. It was sad thing, he had dreamed of growing old with Victor Delano. As much as it upset him to have to stab old Victor in the back he always knew it would come down to this. There would be only twenty years to fill the orders. The banquet of Earthly treasures would be come to an end once the Sirenese arrived. He was going to miss it all. It had become a way of life for him. It was the most fun he’d ever had. His 'work' brought him to the ends of the Earth. Vidd grew to love the primitives of Earth. Having been charmed by colorful people of every culture he had friends all over the globe. What a shame it all had to go.

It had always been the thrill of the hunt for him. Filling and order in explicit detail and delivering it on time to the client is what pleased him. He had never missed a promised delivery date. There was still so much to do… He was already backlogged several years. Moreover, he knew it was going to be up to him to rescue Earth's greatest works of art before the Sirenese destroyed it all. He’d have to increase his personal staff to get it all done.

Viddelio had risen to his position in life the old fashioned way. He bought it. He was the undeniable master of the political favor and always seemed to be there when times were tough. He was everybody's friend. He had the uncommon ability to set things right, to dissolve calamity into the ether. He was good at it. He was everywhere at once, always one step ahead of trouble.

When the time was right he called in his favors and found himself sitting on top of the world. He was quietly installed as the Supreme Director of Galactic Mining and Mapping, occupying the High Chair of the small group of people who commanded the elite organization.

Everyone knew he didn’t belong there. He was neither a manager nor a visionary. The position was as much a trophy as the treasures he now brought back from Earth. Everyone understood how he got there and why. He was a figurehead without official duties. He didn’t care for the drudgery of the day to day machinations of a complex system like Galactic. That distraction would be left to those who cared. He just liked being Victor. Victor knew how to have fun. Victor Delano made him feel alive.
He owed it all to a child genius named Gellseno. It was young Gell who had forged a man out of nothing; giving him an identity, a home town, an alma mater, bank accounts, and even his own Social Security number in the United States. Created out of thin air, Victor was a fully-grown man with a past, a present and a future.

For seven years Vidd did exactly what Gell told him to do. The boy taught him everything he knew about Earth, his natural charm did the rest. Trading in Earth contraband had never been more lucrative. It was tidy little venture until eventually Vidd grew bored with Gell’s mundane little projects. Without seeking Gell's counsel, he struck out to conquer the world. Victor Delano had come into his own.

He put up a high rise building on an old toxic waste site in downtown Phoenix when no one else would even look at the land. He called his palace Delano Industries World Headquarters. He studied the intricate world of high finance just enough to learn that he needed to employ the very best talent to get the desired results. He spared no expense. Landing a job with Delano Industries soon became a prestigious badge. With the help of his team of whiz kids he began acquiring small, successful firms from all over the world. In the span of a few short years he had become the hottest entrepreneur in the American southwest. What Vidd was doing with Victor Delano was stretching the very limits of Gell's handiwork. Victor, ‘the Vic’, was now being scrutinized by everyone. Despite his positive public image, the media, the multi-nationals, and the American government wanted to know more about this overnight sensation of the business world. There was bound to be a hole in his story. Someday, somebody would find it.

"So, what kind of trouble have you got poor Victor into now?" Gell snickered.

"Trouble? No trouble. I just need your help with something… I have a collector in Raggunna’s City who needs a super computer. It has to be a Cray. From the last series built..."

"You’re filthy rich, why don’t you just buy him one?"

"It’s not that easy," Vidd admitted sheepishly. "There are people watching me."

"People? Which people? The Americans?" Gell stopped instantly. Vidd was not worried about the primitives, not at all. Earthly authorities never spooked him before. Somebody on Orr was wise to him. Gell could see it in his shifty, truthless eyes.

"You know as well as I that buying one of these things doesn’t happen in a vacuum. The Feds track that kind of thing, the like to know who's using them and for what."

"So, you want me to steal one for you - huh," Gell said matter of factly. "Is that it?"

"I wouldn’t use those words exactly, but yes, I suppose... If that’s what it takes."

Gell accessed his notepad. "Let me see, Cray... Hmmm... Cray Research. Founder, Seymour Cray - died in 1996 in an auto accident. Purchased by Silicon Graphics in the late nineties… Facilities in Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin; Minneapolis, Minnesota; Colorado Springs, Colorado. At one point, makers of the most powerful computer on Earth." He pulled up a list of all known whereabouts of active Cray units around the world and slowly shook his head.

"Is there a problem?" Vidd asked anxiously.

"The problem is, Vidd, these are the sorts of things that would be noticed if one suddenly turned up missing."

"Well, what can we do? There’s got to be a way to get our hands on one."

"When do you need it by?"

"I’m going to Earth in ten days."


***


Time seemed to stand still in the deep jungle. Ageless spindle trees swayed lazily in the gentle breeze as if fanning away the heat of the day. It was a short distance from the clearing to the tree that was to be the future home of Dakkalia. The snarled brush was waist high having overgrown the path he carved out two years ago. He had not been here since the day the hunt for the Renegade began. He missed this place tremendously.

He fought his way through a thicket of nuberry shoots before catching a glimpse of Dakk’s magnificent tree. It stood at least forty men tall, and it's bulge as wide as twenty men laid end to end. It looked as solid as a mountain. He could hardly wait for Dakk to see it again.

He walked around it at first; visually inspecting it for roundness. It had developed nicely. He grabbed one of the tensioners and tested it for integrity. Hand over hand he scaled up the cable. At the top, where the tensioner was strapped to the tree, he swung a leg around the trunk and climbed into the cage-like shell that would one day be the center of Dakkalia’s jungle home. Even without the walls it felt cozy and inviting. He inched his way down toward the crotch of the tree where all the individual trunks of the spindle tree coalesced into a huge base. He stopped abruptly... In the shadows below him something shimmered. He clicked on his palmlight and pointed it into the darkness. A pair of eyes stared back at him. They were the eyes of a serpent. It flicked it’s forked tongue once and turned away, seemingly unconcerned with this puny intruder. It’s girth, Soll estimated, matched the circumference of his own leg and extrapolating from that he guessed it to be nearly five men long. He smiled, "that’s far enough," he said aloud. "I believe the tensioners need inspection." The tensioners, all thirty-six of them, were located outside the tree.

In ancient times ropes were used to pull outward on the spindles. The slow, methodical process required regular visits to re-torque the tensioners. In his quest to give his son the full experience of forging his own home he insisted that Dakk form the tree the traditional way, using authentic tensioners rather than self-inflating bladders and growth hormones. By twisting their own rope from the plentiful baynai vine and greasing the pulleys with buui paste every aspect of the process was authentic. Still, Dakk was unimpressed and didn’t relish the constant tweaking the hand made tensioners required. Soon after, Soll quietly installed modern self-adjusting tensioners. Not another word was said about it. In reflection the whole process seemed so much more romantic when he was a young boy forming his own tree in the foothills of Terrekka’s plateau.

Working on the tree was a labor of love for him. In the peace of jungle he could be away from all the distractions that infected his mind in the city. The work also had a practical side. Dakk would be released from quarantine in a matter of days and would need a place to hide away for a while. The wave reporters and the young girls would never find him here.

Suddenly a transporter whisked by flying very low. There were no proximity restrictions out here. Dakk’s site hadn't been registered with the Network and few people even knew of its existence. Therefore, Soll concluded with a smile, it could be only one person. Gellseno had arrived.

He liked the Gell immensely, the boy was a delight to be around, but there were times he just wanted to pick him up and shake him. He asked Gell to be discreet, to take a less than direct route to this place. A simple request actually, or was it? 

Moments later, from beyond the thicket, he heard something crashing through the underbrush with all the grace of a five-legged rootbeast. He laughed to himself. Any semblance of discretion was lost. What the boy lacked in common sense was more than made up for with his stunning intellect and uncommon expertise of all that was Earthly. He was a bright, young, idealistic lad. There was a lot to like about him. Above all, he was loyal. Gellseno was someone he could trust, untainted by the likes of Larrvino or that rat, Viddelio. He felt clean when he was around the boy.

He could hear Gell calling out to him. The words dying in the trees obscuring the message. It seemed that he was slightly off course. "Over here!" Soll shouted.

Gell hacked his way through the dense underbrush muttering to himself how much hated the jungle. Finally the sight of Soll smiling as if privy to some cruel joke being played on the city boy set him off.

"Why am I even in this wretched jungle, anyway?" Red faced he yelled at Soll. "You have a perfectly good place on the plateau. This place is..."

"...Free of prying eyes, private, remote... Need I say more?"

"I understand..." Gell acquiesced. "So are you going to tell me now why you’ve dragged me out here?"

Soll looked down momentarily and shuffled his feet. "First, you must promise me that you’ll tell no one about this conversation." He waited for Gell to nod in agreement. "I need your help with something.... How much do you know about the Renegade?"

"The Renegade is my idol."

"Your what?" Soll asked.

"Figuratively speaking - listen, whoever it is they must know more about Earth than any Orrian alive. You people all think I’m the expert..."

"An expert, yes, that’s exactly what I need. You must also be aware that for two years I’ve been unsuccessful at bringing the Renegade in."

Gell laughed. "I’m not surprised. I don’t think anybody could."

"That’s where you’re wrong, Gell. You’re going to."

"Me!"

Soll smiled broadly. "In fact, you’re the only one who can. You said it yourself, the Renegade must know more about Earth than anyone. If that's right then clearly you run a close second."

Gell was speechless. This is not what he expected when Soll dragged him out here. "I guess so," he finally eked out. "So, if what you say is true, and I’m not saying it is, what am I supposed to do when and if I do find the Renegade?"

"Give the Renegade this." Soll produced the Earth-made diskette from his pocket. "I need the Renegade to get this into the hands of Julia Rayhied."

"Hold on... The Earth Doctrine... No way Soll, that would be physical contact. Not even the Renegade has violated the contact provision of the Earth Doctrine as far as anyone knows."

"I’m aware of that. But it’s time to now. In part because of the Renegade’s activity, but there’s something else now. Something that’s going to change everything..."

Gell shook his head. "You must mean these so called Sirenese?"

"Yes, I do. We now know that the human form exists throughout the galaxy. Earth is no longer unique. In years to come I fear we will find that Earth is the least of our worries." He watched the boy nod in agreement. "Then you’ll do it?"

"I guess I could try. As long as you realize I can not guarantee anything."

"Of course not. But I have utmost confidence in your ability. I’ve made up a list of probable suspects. Perhaps you even know some of them, they are mostly students or mentors from the institute." He held out his portacon for Gell to see.

Gell began to laugh. "Jeddetto," he roared, "not likely. And Kevverra, Dellecco, not in a million years. Where did you get this list?"

Feeling completely inadequate as an investigator in the presence of Gell’s mockery, he pulled his portacon back. "I compiled it from an exhaustive probe," Soll replied defensively. "How can you dismiss them so easily?"

"These people..." Gell explained, "all have one thing the Renegade does not. If you did the research on these people I’m surprised you didn’t pick up on it."

"Pick up on what?"

"These people all have egos," Gell declared. "Surely you see that. The Renegade can not have an ego or the point is lost."

Soll's mind drifted back in time to a young man so intent on rattling the cage that personal motives were beyond consideration. As the original Renegade, he never wanted to be any kind of leader. The Renegade was a symbol, the embodiment of the collective guilt shared by every Orrian, a constant reminder of an unpleasant reality. From the warmth and comfort of the oasis called Orr they could only watch helplessly the width and breadth of human suffering on Earth, forbidden by law to step in and ease the pain.

***


When twilight was upon them. Soll offered him a ride to his idled transporter on the far side of the swamp. Gell readily accepted. Soll expertly positioned his craft over Gell's waiting transporter and the boy jumped. When his feet struck the deck of the vehicle the transporter wobbled slightly. Slow responding inertia dampeners caused the transporter to tip too far to one side. It was just enough for Gell to lose his footing and slide off into the thicket. Soll resisted the urge to laugh until he could see that Gell was all right. He waved to the boy while suppressing his smile and sped off leaving the walking mishap known as Gellseno to find his way home.

Unhurt by the fall and eager to leave the miserable jungle, Gell quickly extended the ramp and began to climb into the transporter. Much to his surprise, he was not alone. "Councilmember Sebb… Sebbreba!" he stammered. "What are you doing way out here? How did you get in here? This transporter is registered to me."

"The infamous Gellseno," she exclaimed breathlessly. "At last, we meet." She bowed before him. "I come to you on an important mission. I seek your help."

"Mission? What kind of mission?"

She pulled him into the cabin. "Come with me," she said seductively. She guided him to the long bench and softly urged him to sit. "We are very concerned about Sollalia and we know you’ve been in contact with him. In fact, you’re the only one he’s spoken to in ages."

"Who’s we?"

"Soll’s friends, of course." Her leg was touching his; a fact he could not ignore. He could feel the pull of her fragrance. She was breathtakingly beautiful. The pangs of youthful desire lured him closer and closer to her body until their faces were only inches apart. "We are worried about him," she whispered. "We were hoping you could help us shed some light on his activities..." She began running her fingers through his thick black hair. "A simple, you help me, and I’ll help you sort of thing."

"Well... I... Can’t really say. I mean... Ahh..." He felt her hand rubbing his thigh. "I’ve given him my word..." He saw her gaze down at the growing bulge between his legs.

"I admire that in a man," she purred. "Loyalty, I mean."

He could stand no more. He grabbed the back of her head and pulled her lips to his. She offered no resistance. Her hands began exploring the fasteners of his tunic; his hands rendered assistance. He helped remove her clothing revealing her ample breasts. He cupped them in his hands and cooed. She arched her back, offering them up for his pleasure. When his lips touched her nipple he felt her body shudder in his hands.

Suddenly he began to feel dizzy. The cabin was spinning wildly around him. When his eyes finally regained focus he found himself lying paralyzed on the floor, and Sebb was doing nothing to help him. He could see only her bare ankles as she stepped over him. He could hear her move around the cabin as if looking for something. He wanted to scream but nothing would come out. He heard the door open behind him. She stood over him and with her leg she began to roll his naked body across the floor. He alternately saw the ceiling then the floor as his useless arms flopped around under him. At once he was airborne until he came to rest on the forest floor with a resounding thud. A moment later his clothes and portacon joined him in the waist-high brush. He detected the charge of an anti-gravity field and in a blink the transporter was gone.

He felt no pain. The drug, whatever it was, acted as an anesthetic as well as an immobilizer. For the time being he was not in any physical pain. The same could not be said for his deeply bruised ego. He had been used - used by the most beautiful woman in the world, and to what end? He didn’t have a clue. She had used her charms to get him into a vulnerable position and then struck without warning. Still, he could not wish her any ill will. He smiled inwardly. For a single moment the stunningly beautiful Sebbreba lay naked in his arms. For that solitary instant in time she was his and he was hers. Surely it was love.

What kind of love was this that left him pitiful and helpless in the deep jungle? How quickly fear replaced love's afterglow of he could not tell, but as soon as he found that all warmth had left him he knew death could not be far behind.

He found the hectic sounds of the nocturnal jungle frightening. His motionless body had thus far gone unnoticed by the local denizens. This, he knew, would change. He had no sense of time but as he watched the sky grow dark he realized the glory of the morning and the safety of the cleansing sun was a long way off. He wondered if death would be swift and painless or a lingering nightmare. He prayed for the former.

The racket in the trees all around him stopped suddenly. The abrupt silence was deafening. He struggled desperately to turn his head, to scan his surroundings, but only his eyes would move. His ears, more acute than ever before, studied the rhythm of the jungle. From the north, directly behind him, something scurried through the weeds. Probably ground vermin, he mused, nothing to fear from them. He remembered hearing tales of a killer that makes no sound when it strikes. A stealthy rigacat could be lurking inches away and he would never even know it. It was probably better that way.

More sounds... Something was coming his way. Some distance away he heard something thrashing through the brush. What ever was coming toward him wasn’t alone. A herd of rootbeasts, perhaps? Getting trampled to death was preferable to being eaten alive.

Just as he thought he heard voices in the shadows he detected the unmistakable sensation of a collapsing anti-gravity field. A transporter had landed nearby. "He’s over here," a voice called. "Is the cat gone?" yelled another. "They’re chasing it away with sticks," came the muted reply.
His view changed. He was now being carried through the dense underbrush. "Throw him in here," said Larrvino pitiless voice. Gell sensed his body had gone airborne again, but this time he landed face down on the floor of a transporter cabin. "Well, well," Larr said, "will you look at this." Larr’s men rolled Gell’s naked body over and they all laughed at the pathetic sight. "Give him the antidote," Larr ordered. One of the men squirted a hypo-spray into his nostrils and instantly his body came to life again. "Now get up!" Larr demanded.

As the effects of the immobilizer wore off the pain became excruciating. Gell was cut and bruised all over. Finally, standing erect he became reacquainted with the fact that he was bare from head to toe. Larr made a motion with his hand and someone handed Gell his clothes. There was silence in the cabin as Gell slipped his tunic over his head. Someone handed him a rag to wipe the blood off his face. Using the shiny cabin wall as a mirror he dabbed the dried blood from his forehead and chin.

Larr frowned. "How did you manage to find yourself way out here, drugged up and naked?"

Gell said nothing at first. He wasn’t gathering his thoughts as much as he was resigning to the fact that the truth was so fantastic not even he would believe it. To even try to explain would be an exercise in futility. "Let’s just say a little game I was playing went badly... How did you find me out here, anyway?"

"Your portacon was emitting an emergency beacon. A beacon set to my wave address only. So, you’re telling me I rushed out here for some stupid, juvenile game. I should’ve let the rigacat have you..."

Gell pulled the disk from his pocket and smiled as he held it up: "Not stupid or juvenile, I got the disk, just like you wanted." Larr snatched it from his hand and examined closely as if it was somehow going to tell him something.

"What is that?" Larr demanded impatiently. Recognizing Earth technology he barked. "Can you make it work?"

"I’ll need to fabricate something that can decode it..."

"Just shut up and do it!"

A few moments later, preparing to be exonerated, Gell proudly produced the image of Sollalia from the disk. He turned to Larr and smiled. For once he would have the last word.

"We’ve got him now!" Larr crowed. With his fist clenched in victory, he watched in horror as Soll’s image morphed into Sebbreba. "What's this?"

"What’s the matter, Larr, dear? Expecting someone else?"

"You! How?"

"Don’t be so shocked. You didn’t expect us to sit by and watch you destroy him, did you?"

"Where’s is it?" Larr demanded. He spun toward Gell and glared. "I thought you put a tracer on that thing!"

"Oh, he did, Larr. The same one as I put on the twenty others you’ll find scattered around the world. As smart as the boy genius is, he didn’t make the tracer peerless. It was not difficult to replicate. Really, Larr, you shouldn’t send a boy to do a mans job."

Gell was stung by her comment. It hurt because she was right. The tracer was completely generic; it had not occurred to him to mask it. Twice now she had embarrassed him. There would not be a third time. "I’ll get it back," he exclaimed with an acid tongue, "if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll get it back."

"You’re wrong," Larr said sarcastically. "It will be the first thing you do."