The Preacher Man

I was touched that several Security Upper Commanders conferenced me from Jizari to congratulate me with the news that I passed my sixth ride on the Lion. The last person to do that eventually became Abdul Aziz, Servant of the Powerful One and 41'st Cunif Califar, more than six thousand years ago. His reign lasted longer than three hundred years, a record many expect to remain unbroken unless there are new breakthroughs with the anti-aging drugs. For the first time, I sensed a small seed of hope within my Guild that I might successfully complete the Asad.

The Guild has kept the news of my Lion ride away from the general public. My work colleagues in the other Guilds at Hadramawt assumed I was working undercover with fake lower ranks as I advanced through the months. I was known within Security of course. It's required that we all recognize each other on sight, all three thousand of us.

My new assignment was the township of Qataban, built at the site of La Paz, the capital of ancient Bolivia. At 16 o 30' S, 2 o 45' E, it was only eleven minutes ahead of Bandar Arenas in solar time, something I was looking forward to. The township is also high in the Andean mountains, 3,270 meters above sea level, the highest township in the world. It is the home for the Guild specializing in the mining of refractory metals. Their tantalum and niobium production is highly prized and a key component of the super-conducting legs of the worldwide magneto-rail system. I should know. Anqara's Guild was specialty metal fabrication, and Qataban was one of our primary suppliers.

Mining presents a special challenge to the Priesthood and Security. Almost all other activities, even agriculture to a great degree, can be planned and situated near township locations. Mining of course can not. It must follow the natural locations of the ores. The result is that the Mining Guild is a large one, with many important offices throughout the world. A large number of its members are always on field assignments away from the townships. That presents special issues to my own Guild.

In particular, there have been a series of transient breakdowns in security handshaking protocols between Qataban and several of its mining outposts. The losses of central monitoring ability have been brief, rarely longer than a few minutes, but they remain unexplained. The two Security commanders currently stationed at Qataban, a CL-8 and a CL-10, requested a third member of command rank to help with their investigation. That's my current assignment.

It was a long flight from Hadramawt to Qataban, 3,554 kilometers along the great circle arc, and our sub-sonic plane was fighting a stiff headwind. The result was the flight still had almost an hour to go when the Priest mercifully ended his Prayer of Counted Failings at 10 AM. He really was quite dreadful, reciting rote prayers in a very flat, monotonic voice for hours. After the close, a pair of laborers from the Air Transport Guild began handing out small snacks, and a line formed at the lavatories in the rear.

I glanced at my traveling companion across the aisle, the CL-13. "Are you based at Qataban?"

He looked at me and nodded. "That's right. I'm Ammar, Qataban's current station commander." He didn't have to mention that he was in the Mining Guild, his insignia was clearly visible. I could also see he was curious about me, but was far too diplomatic to initiate any questions. Except for Royalty, one just doesn't ask Security commanders what they're doing.

For someone of such high rank though, diplomacy is a two-way street. By law, all 120 Guilds are represented in Royalty with at least three members. I had every reason to be polite. Ammar was five Classes my senior, but more importantly, he might one day be a Royal himself and have direct authority over me.

I nodded back and replied, "I am Ilias. I'm pleased to meet you. I expect we'll meet again in a few days."

Ammar nodded thoughtfully and then went back to his laptop. I had satisfied his curiosity, and we both knew an open passenger cabin was no place for us to have a conversation. I returned to my own work. After a while the plane reduced its speed and banked as we began our landing approach.

Chapter 6. An Explosive Encounter

Time: September 27, 8235 9:47 PM

Well, it took more than three months of dogged detective work, but I finally solved the mystery of Qataban's monitor disconnects. I now have both the public answers and the private answers. The public answers have already been transmitted back to Jizari, where they earned me warm congratulations and a flight back to Jizari at the end of the month. My assignment here at Qataban was over.

I was riding an ore train back to Qataban from one of the mining outposts. Much of the refining had already been done at the mining site, and our cargo bays were heavy with almost pure metal. Our mining train had the most powerful locomotives in the world, but we were still right at the limit for weight capacity.

The train crew was a mixed lot of engine laborers and managers from the Rail Guild, plus a young CL-2 Priest to lead the evening prayers. At first the crew seemed terrified about having a CL-11 Security commander hitch a ride with them, even though I insisted that I was only along for the ride and that they should just go about with their normal duties. I finally broke the ice by turning the Prayer of Weakness into an informal class on Tae Kwon Do, and taught some of my favorite throws. The mood really lightened up after that. The Priest's closing blessing for the night was quite touching.

Qataban is such an interesting place. It's not the lush, tropical paradise of Hadramawt, not the rich and powerful township of Jizari, not the forest wonder of Anqara, but it does have an intensely competitive spirit and a mountain beauty that is all its own. I will miss my time here, and my friends. I'll never forget the look of gratitude from Tamir, the CL-10 Security station head, when I suggested he keep his post a few days ago, even though I now outrank him. It will look better on his resume if his command is unbroken, and he will be at his fifth and final gate for promotion to CL-11 next year.

CL-11, I can hardly believe it for myself. My Lion rides are moving me through life so fast! Was I a naïve child less than a year ago? It seems impossible.

After his blessing, the Priest had turned the Hour of Repose into a Prayer of quiet meditation, setting us free to consider our lives in peace as the train chugged the last of its journey home. My fingers came up and caressed my new Class emblem, a diamond red at the bottom, green at the upper left, and blue at the upper right. Assuming I'm successful on my next Ride, both the green and blue will change to yellow next month. Otherwise I'll wear my current colors until I die.

And the public answer to the mystery? There was a freakish incompatibility in the complex overlaps of procedures between the Guilds, in particular driven by the fact that implementation in the field is not always exactly the same procedure of the theoretical textbook explanations of how things are supposed to be done. The errors were all very innocent, and the corrective solutions are now in place. The problem is solved.

And the private answer to the mystery? So far I've kept the private knowledge completely to myself. I have a perfect excuse. Everything I've seen and deduced has a clear and reported explanation. It's only in my personal examination of the combination of operations codes and security logs that I spotted the subtle signatures of intentional deception. My intimate knowledge of how I tricked the network at Anqara as a boy provided me a fleeting glimpse of a secret organization of unknown purpose. Its size is also unknown, but it has to be more than a few people. I caught a glimpse of a secret organization, and for now this glimpse is visible only within my mind.

After the ore train pulled into Qataban, I said good night to the crew and started to hike back to my room at Security HQ. I was halfway there, passing through a very old and semi-used industrial part of the township, when it seemed the entire world exploded around me and I descended into a fiery pit.

There were loose cables that I managed to scissor with my legs, enabling me to brake my fall. Some sort of explosion, industrial chemicals I thought wildly. The blast didn't have quite the concentrated punch of military explosives. I had plunged more than ten meters below street level to land on a bed of filthy debris, mixtures of stone and old iron and destroyed wooden shelves. Papers and books were scattered everywhere. I guessed I had been walking over an ancient city archive when the explosion occurred.

There was no power, but the area began to be dimly lit with the red glow of a fire at one end of the debris. There were shattered wooden shelves and paper books everywhere. I had to get out of here! I stood and looked around, trying to see a way out, amazed I seemed unhurt except for bruises. Yes! These loose cables, not yet near the fire! I could just climb my way out of this! And then I heard a hammering sound, as if one piece of debris was being struck rapidly against another. Was someone down here with me? I judged the fire and the cables. I had a few minutes. I went to investigate the sound.

I found her down the slope of debris. She was in an Initiate burqa, showing that she very close to her marriage gate. The left part of her body was encased in the debris, and her head and neck were cruelly pinned and twisted. She was being strangled by her burqa, and had picked up a wooden shard in her right hand. She was banging out a pleading sound for help.

I took the thin throwing knife I keep strapped to my calf and cut the head veil from her burqa. Exposing her like this was a serious crime for both of us, but she would have died otherwise. In the growing red glow of the fire, I felt a bundle of soft hair cascade around my fingers. I left her gasping for air and tried to free the rest of her body. Damnation! Her left leg from just below the hip was firmly wedged in the debris. This would take a while. I looked around hastily for a lever.

The young woman recovered quickly, looked around and saw the approaching fire. She started to tug uselessly at her leg as she realized the danger she was in. She saw me looking around for a lever and probably thought I was searching for a way to leave.

"Oh, don't leave me! Don't leave me to burn!" she pleaded. She jerked again at her leg. It was wedged tight. I shook my head in dismay. We didn't have much time, and I thought I would need both a lever and her cooperation to have any chance at all of saving her. I was afraid she was getting hysterical.

"Don't leave me here to burn!" she sobbed.

"What's your name?!"

"Don't leave me here to burn!" she screamed.

"What's your name?!" I screamed back.

"Abigail!"

Success! I got through to her. "Abigail, I won't leave you! Stand or fall, we're in this together, I promise! Now help me, or we're both going to die!"

My promise had a startling effect. The hysterics disappeared and she became all business. "What should I do?"

"I need to make a lever, try to wedge apart the debris. Pull your leg out when I do."

She nodded and looked around the area as I searched for a beam. I found something, a thin iron pipe. I thought it might be from a gas line. It didn't look like much but I was running out of time to search for better.

"What's our escape route?" she asked.

"The cables!" I replied, pointing up the slope towards the fire. "If you can ride my back, I'm strong enough to carry you out of here."

Abigail nodded, frowning at the nearness of the flames. "Hurry," she cried, "We're almost out of time!"

I nodded, completely agreeing with her assessment. I placed my lever in the debris by her leg, and placed all my weight on the other end. Abigail got ready to slide her leg, but the debris did not budge.

A look of calm crossed her face. "Any bigger levers around?"

I looked around wildly. "I don't think so, not nearby." Damnation! What to do, what to do?!

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Huh? Ilias."

"Ilias, go!"

"What?! No!"

"You can just make it if you leave now. Go!"

I examined another possibility for a lever. Useless! I looked at the escape cables. The flames were almost reaching them. If I sprinted away this second, I could probably just make it with minor burns on my legs. I looked back at Abigail.

"Ilias, I release you from your promise. Go!"

I stared at her, her calm face full of nobility. It was the first female face I had ever seen. The moment seemed silent.

I shook my head. "I need to make a compound lever!"

"What?! We'll have no escape!"

"Worry about that later!" I rooted around the debris, picked something that would have to do. "Here! Wedge this near your leg, as deep as you can push it in!" I set up my first lever to push against the upper half of the second. My feet would have poor purchase on the thin rod, so I did a handstand on the first lever, my feet catching the flat face of an overhead broken steel beam. And then upside down I tried to straighten my body with all my might.

I pushed my end of the lever more than a meter, pushing the end of the second lever along the ground by about 40 cm and the wedge by Abigail's leg about 15 cm.

"It's working!" she screamed. She wiggled her leg madly as I grunted under the strain, wondering how long I could hold my position.

"I'm free!" She screamed again.

I let go and came to her side. "Can you walk?" I asked.

She grimaced. "I think my foot is broken. I can hobble though, or crawl! But where do we go?! There's no escape up!"

I looked around and nodded. "We'll have to head down! I'll carry you!" The fire was almost upon us and the air was turning foul. I picked her up and moved down the hill of debris as fast as I could. She was so light, like a feather! Beyond comprehension! It was only later I realized my adrenaline was giving me a distorted sense of her weight.

"Ilias, I think I know where we are! We've broken through to the library's restricted level. There won't be an exit here!"

"But I see a door!" Besides which, there was no other place to go.

She shook her head. "It has to be an archive room, a dead end! It'll be locked!"

We got to the door a moment later. There were large red signs with white lettering on either side of the door, but there was no time to read them. Abigail was right, the door was locked, and also unpowered. But as a Security commander I had an omega pass. Thanking the Holy it seemed undamaged, I slid the card into the mag-slot and keyed in my authorization code for override access.

My omega card didn't have the power to slide the door open, but it did unclick the lock. As Abigail gasped in astonishment, I slid the door open with my hands. The fire behind us was turning into a raging inferno. We had absolutely no time to spare! I helped Abigail through the portal and slid the door closed behind us. I turned on a small pocket flashlight and looked around the room.

It was a moderate sized vault, filled with aisles of floor shelves holding old papers and books, truly ancient looking stuff. But I noticed something else far more alarming. The air! It had no smell, but seemed to offer no benefit when I breathed it!

Abigail noticed it too. She wailed, "It's a nitrogen room, to protect the archives!"

I panted and thought perhaps our struggle was over. "Any ideas?"

Abigail considered. "Perhaps there's a cold vault! Search the walls!"

I carried her as she held my light and we both searched for another door. We found one in the back, along with more warning signs posted in red near it. We were both getting dizzy from breathing the pure nitrogen. We ignored the red signs. I used my pass again to override the door, and this time the door slid open on its own power and the ceiling lights switched on. We entered an inner vault and quickly sealed the door so as not to dilute the new air with the nitrogen.

It was a small vault, an aisle about four meters long and one meter wide, with shelves along all the walls except for the door behind us. It was not nearly as cold as I feared, probably about 10C. There were two small vents in the room, and the one on the floor was gently blowing clean cold air into the room. The ceiling vent was the exhaust. Thank the Holy the air was breathable! Abigail and I lay gasping on the floor near the vent to catch our breath. From here, the raging fires two rooms away were not even audible. Perhaps we were safe! And then the ceiling lights failed.

Chapter 7. Cold Storage

We lay in darkness for several minutes catching our breaths by the vent. The only sound in the room was our breathing, and occasionally Abigail's chattering teeth. The floor was made of metal, and at 10C was rapidly pulling the heat from her body. I thought about telling her to stand, but then remembered her broken foot. Another minute passed in silence.

"I'm going to keep the flashlight off, unless we need light for something."

There was no response. I suddenly realized I hadn't asked a question, and it would be forbidden for her to talk otherwise.

"Permission to talk freely."

"Yes sire, thank you."

"Sire?" I thought. At first I felt surprised, and then I was astonished by my surprise. Abigail using my name before had broken a dozen laws. So why did I feel sad, that she was now observing the correct protocols? More teeth chatter...

"Cold?"

"A little sire, thank you."

I had memories of my winter survival training at Anqara. I never thought I'd be doing this with a girl! "Here, lie on your side. Cuddle with me."

I turned on the light for a moment. I got my first calm look at her face, and her body. She was as I had dreamed women to be, so beautiful. She seemed startled by my command but grateful, and quickly complied. We pressed ourselves against each other, my right arm underneath her, curling around the small of her back to hold her to me by her hip.

So wide! Such a pleasant, flaring curve from her trim and fit waist, so different than a man! I felt her shiver in her thin burqa and realized her problem. I had on outdoor clothes, she was dressed for interiors. She must have been underground inside the, what did she call it, a library? My mind drifted. I looked up into her eyes only a few centimeters from my face. She gave me a shy smile. I nodded and turned off the light.

I felt like making conversation. "What kind of a vault is this?"

Abigail replied very precisely. "Sire, the disks on the shelves are based on a mylar composite, protected with a dura-plasti coating. Oxygen in the air is not an issue, but the information substrates would degrade if kept at room temperature."

"Ah. Well, at least the air is breathable." I suddenly felt a little foolish for talking so inanely.

"Yes sire. It's more economical to seal the door, rather than set up a separate line for cold nitrogen." She still seemed so stiff and formal. This was so different than our brief time before the vault. I found myself yearning for her to call me Ilias again.

Perhaps her foot was bothering her. "How are you feeling? How is your foot?" I asked. "Please speak freely and honestly."

There was a pause. "Thank you sire. My foot is throbbing but the pain is bearable." There was another pause, even longer, and then she cried, "Sire! I owe you a deep apology for my hysterics!"

For all my command training, I was at a loss for what to say. The silence stretched out to a very long moment. Without thinking, I patted the side of her hip to show understanding.

At my pat, Abigail sighed and continued. "In 8224, I was in my tenth year. There was a fire here at Qataban, at the girl's monastery. Do you know of it sire?"