Beneath the Eye of God (The Commodore Ardcasl Space Adventures Book 1)
Other Books by Lee Payne
*
Getting Started in Photojournalism
*
Lighter Than Air
An Illustrated History of the Airship
*
Tales from the Mountain of Gold
A Chinese Slave Girl in Gold Rush San Francisco
Beneath the Eye of God
by
Lee Payne
*
Cover Art by Tom Payne
Eyeballpress.com
Prologue
Mankind is spread thin across the stars. The accident that allowed mammals to dominate the Earth did not occur on many other worlds. There are more spacefaring reptile societies than human ones.
Yet life is everywhere, mostly tenuous and specialized. The few worlds where it flourishes are like oases in the desert. In a small cluster of stars near the Milky Way galaxy, this is one such world. It long ago attracted settlers from the edge of that great wheel. They found it easier and faster to navigate the pulsing emptiness from galaxy to cluster than to cross the debris-laden distances within the galaxy itself. It was the difference between a country road and a traffic-choked city street.
The settlers landed in a seeming Eden only to find, when it was too late to leave, that they were not alone.
The first-hand study of life-bearing planets is obviously one of the newer scientific disciplines. Those few that spawn life in abundance would earn the most attention were they not so widely scattered. It is a field that attracts individuals with unusual qualifications. As in the early days of such Earth-bound sciences as geography, paleontology and archaeology, they are as much adventurers as they are dedicated to knowledge.
Chapter 1
"Careful with those bluestone figurines, you furry little swabs. Get in there and help them, Erol. I swear, this is the last time I work a planet so fearful of its past it doesn't even have its own grave robbers."
"Patience, Commodore. The men are still a little nervous. They will learn."
"Learn to triple their price next time we come," the Commodore growled. "Though I doubt there's anything worth finding on this flea-bitten dustball anyway."
"Go sit in the shade and stop worrying. You make the men nervous. There is enough bluestone ware to make our expenses and there may be a good deal more."
The Commodore heaved his ample bulk over the fallen stones and made his way down toward the campsite. "And now that old forest woman is back again," he cried. "Between the bugs and the heat and that crazy old woman watching me, am I destined never to have any peace on this accursed planet?"
"How many times must I tell you?" Erol shouted down from the temple ruin. "Have the cook find out what she wants."
"I know what she wants," the Commodore muttered as he settled himself into a folding chair. "Why is it never the young ones who want to mate with the mighty alien visitor?"
"None of them want to mate with you," Elor said from inside the tent behind him. His voice was exactly like that of his twin, Erol, on top of the mound. "And the old ones are the only ones you can catch. The cook says she wants to give you her son."
"Her son? What do I want with her son? Why is it never their daughters? Why do they never offer their daughters?"
"She says he's a bright lad. He learned to read and write at a mission school, speaks Universal yet still knows the dialects of the forest clans. She says it is his destiny to journey among the stars."
The Commodore poured himself a drink. "Destiny?" he huffed. "The only destiny for this forsaken rock and every benighted soul who dwells upon it is to be ignored by destiny. And while the offer of her son as a slave is generous, you know how the abolitionist planets feel about such things. We could lose our license if anyone found out. It wouldn't be worth it. Not for only one. Still, if he speaks Universal, he might be useful as my interpreter while we're here. I don't know how you and your brother pick up these barbarous local languages so fast. I don't think I ever will. And he could help carry some of this junk you insisted on bringing along. It would be good experience for the lad, to mingle with sophisticated men of the galaxy. We wouldn't have to pay him and we could dump him when we leave."
Elor emerged from the tent. He was a reptile, the image of his brother, Erol, still working atop the ruin. Both were close in size to men, though slim and taller than most. They dressed and spoke like men but were something quite apart. Their iridescent skin was pale with just a hint of scales. Their slitted eyes were yellow. They were as unlike the corpulent and bearded Commodore as shipmates could be. "I told her to bring him around and we would consider hiring him as a guide and interpreter," Elor said. His voice retained only a trace of serpent hiss.
"Hire? We'll make little enough on this forsaken dustheap as it is without squandering our credits on the locals. The lad will have an opportunity to be with cultured men of the universe. I can teach him some of the lessons I have learned through hard experience, tell him tales of my adventures. That should be pay enough for anyone from this decrepit provincial backwater. He ought to pay me for the opportunity . . . Ah, that's it! He can pay me. We'll have lessons. I can teach him the ways of a space trader. Bring a little glamor and excitement into his drab . . . Wait a minute. That's no good. These wretches have no useful money. Faugh!"
"She said she would bring the boy this evening." Elor disappeared into the tent leaving the Commodore to pick an insect out of his glass, finish his drink and doze off in the afternoon shade.
The furry little woman brought her son to the camp at nightfall. The heat of the sun had gone. The cool blaze of the great spiral galaxy filled three quarters of the night sky. The strangers had no need for additional illumination as they cleared away the supper dishes. The Commodore extended his chair into a reclining position, pulled it close beneath the ultrasonic insect repeller, lit his pipe and settled down to gaze at the sky. He refused to acknowledge the arrival of the two forest people.
The son was taller than his mother but still not over four feet. Both were covered in short brown fur and wore the simple roughspun garments of their people. They skirted the fire where the workmen watched them incuriously and came hesitantly toward the three aliens. Elor went to meet them.
He returned with them, chatting. "Ohan, this is my brother, Erol, and that over there in the chair is our leader, Commodore Ardcasl. You may already have missed him, however. He appears to have settled in for a night of galaxy watching and contemplation."
"The results of which," Erol added loudly, "we shall undoubtedly hear of at great length tomorrow." He turned to the boy. "Do you read and write, Ohan?"
"Yes, sir. I learned it at the mission school. If you need a guide, I know all the forest lands around here. I can hunt for you and I know many of the forest clans, though I have less experience in the towns."
"Our own experience in the towns is sufficient," Elor said. "We are a scientific expedition. We are here to examine the fallen temples and pyramids of the giants. Would that disturb you?"
"No, sir. They told us at school that the ruins were really built by our own ancestors so long ago that we have forgotten. Now we attribute them to the work of giants. It is still hard for me to believe."
"We have excavated and mapped part of the small temple complex beside our camp in order to ascertain specific periods and dates. Our workmen are from the farms and villages here at the edge of the forest. In a few days this work will be completed. We will pay them off and the three of us will then travel through the forest to survey the extent and distribution of the ruins there. That would not frighten you?"
"Oh no, sir. I played among the ruins as a child."
The Commodore stirred, rumbling through the cloud of pipe smoke that enveloped him, "Have you sisters, dear boy?"
"Yes, sir. Two sisters and a brother. They are scattered among the forest clans. My mother will go to live with them if you decide to take me with you. She has remained with me because she believes I am somehow special. I'm afraid I was born in the dark, away from the Eye of God."
"As were we all, my boy," the Commodore said absently. "As were we all."
***
The little forest woman felt that by delivering her son to the three aliens, she had done all she could to set his feet upon his fated path to the stars. She was ready to leave and return to her people. Their parting was brief. She had few words to tell him of how she felt. She knew he did not share her confidence in his destiny.
She sensed that the two identical aliens were kind, though very different from any men she had ever seen before. The third alien, the loud hairy one, was more familiar. She had known a number of men who tried to dominate more through wind than fire, though his one, she suspected, would turn and strike if the corner became tight enough.
She stood beside her son and let the silence between them speak for her. Her other children she would see again, if not in this life, then in the next, for their bodies would go into the earth like hers and their spirits would grow from it into the great trees. But this one, the son she had kept with her the longest, he would go among the stars and his spirit would have to find a home in their cold light far from the warm earth and the trees.
Now that she had kept her promise to the darkness, now that his first step was taken, she feared that his soul would never again be one with hers and with the living forest people who used the great water trees. She wondered again how far the stars were above the forest canopy. She looked at them and trembled.
She let the silence speak awhile longer between them, then she turned and left.
Ohan watched her go. He did not want to spoil their last moments together by arguing further. He too, glanced up at the sky and the Eye of God. He knew what it was. It was a great spiral galaxy of stars. Each point of light was a sun like the one that warmed his own world. He had learned that at the mission school. It was little more than words until the twins pointed out the part of the distant swirl where they were hatched. They explained that Ohan's world was in a star cluster above the galactic plane, a place the Commodore characterized as being near "the jerkwater end of nowhere."
The twins said that many suns had planets revolving around them. Travel between these nearby worlds was relatively simple and widespread. Interstellar travel, travel between the suns was, however, quite a different matter. Though the points of light in the Eye of God seemed close together, they were really very far apart and only fast ships carrying precious cargoes could afford to trade between any but the nearest of them.
This was why, they said, interstellar merchants such as themselves were forced to deal in such a limited line of merchandise. In fact, Ohan was surprised to learn, their trade consisted entirely of art and ideas.
Elor explained. "Sentient beings generally evolve through a number of stages. As primitives, they generate art and ideas in profusion. This is clearly seen by the archaeologist as he uncovers the extraordinary variety of early man's many different religions that are preserved in his stone temples and idols. Most of the art and ideas thus generated lead to evolutionary dead ends and are discarded. As a planetary society nears cultural maturity and sees more clearly the way it must go, there are fewer dead ends. As it profits from experience, it also tends to generate a narrower range of new thought."
"Eventually, people become so advanced or sophisticated," Erol added, "that their own art and ideas become, first boring, then suspect. They begin to wonder if some of their historic dead ends might have contained more substance than the ones they ended up with. A search through their antecedents leads only to confusion. They turn to the art and ideas of other worlds. A market has grown up for the art and ideas produced on primitive planets. Their export to sophisticated worlds has become one of the few justifications for the expense of interstellar trade."
"Ours then must be a very primitive world," Ohan said.
"I would not be sitting within range of a sonic insect repeller on a sophisticated one," the Commodore muttered caustically. "Actually, your world appears to be too primitive to be comfortable yet not primitive enough to be either interesting or profitable. As usual, my two associates, against my wise, prudent and farsighted counsel, selected what is undoubtedly the least promising mudball in this entire benighted cluster. I would say I told them so, but I am too much of a gentleman for that." With that he retreated back into his cloud of pipe smoke.
"My brother and I hold doctorates in Cultural Xenology, the study of alien societies," Elor explained. "Ours is one of the galaxy's leading reptilian universities. The Commodore, on the other hand, is a graduate of the school of hard knocks which, according to him, has campuses on a large number of the least savory planets. We find your world interesting on several levels and we believe that you may be able to aid us in our research."
"I'll do whatever I can," Ohan replied. "But I'm afraid I'm not very clear on what it is you're searching for. We have art, of course. The mission school had some very nice paintings. But as to ideas, though I haven't seen a lot of my world beyond the forest and the school, it's obvious that we're not nearly as advanced as many of the places you've visited."
The Commodore stirred in his chair. "You see. I told you the lad was smarter than he looked. That is a very astute observation, Osmian, my boy."
"Primitive people are not necessarily ignorant people," Elor replied patiently. "My brother and I believe that those who created the ancient civilizations on your world, the architects of the fallen cities deep in your forests, may have developed unique and valuable ideas and insights of their own. This is why we are completing a thorough excavation, sonar sounding and computer reconstruction of this complex of fallen buildings. It will aid us in understanding the ruins we encounter in the forest."
The Commodore began to grumble again. "If this were a proper world with proper grave robbers, all these old dustheaps would have been rooted through long ago. Their best artifacts would have been gathered together in collections where they could be viewed in comfort and bargained for in a civilized manner. The fact that there are no looters leads to the inescapable conclusion that there is nothing worth looting. And though I would be the last person to complain about it, I am certainly not looking forward to the uncomfortable and undoubtedly fruitless journey that lies ahead."
With that, he heaved himself up out of his chair and stalked off toward his tent. "And as for primitive peoples being all that clever or observant, I doubt that anyone around here has even noticed the little light that hangs low over the forest just at sunset, then fades away with the coming of night."
Ohan gasped. "You mean the Evil Star?"
The big man stopped in his tracks, then turned slowly to glare at the twins. "You put him up to that, didn't you?"
"But everyone knows about it," Ohan hastened to explain. "It once rivaled the sun's brightness but was defeated. Now even the stars refuse to allow it to move among them or to join them in the night sky."
When he saw that all three aliens were staring at him in surprise, Ohan began to stammer. "Of course that's just a tale for children. I don't really . . . uh, believe it."
The Commodore sighed and turned back toward his tent. "I take it all back, gentlemen. You have acquired for us a veritable font of unexamined racial memory."
Chapter 2
Ohan slept fitfully in his bedroll on the ground. He awoke to the most amazing sight his eyes had ever beheld. The Commodore emerged from his tent dressed in red silk pajamas with green embroidered dragons encircling his ample midriff. He joined the twins already at breakfast.
"Well, you did it," he grumped at them. "Against
my advice, my wishes, my better judgment. I notice you never mentioned a fee for your new assistant's services and I don't doubt that he will be worth every penny of it. Just keep the young pup out of my way. I've too much to do already without having to wet-nurse every stray provincial oaf you feel like inviting aboard."
He spied Ohan peering nervously from beneath his blanket. "Ah, there you are, lad. You don't drink coffee do you? No? Good. Nasty stuff. Bad for the liver. Besides, we haven't much of it. Great Odin's tooth! Stand up, lad. We can't lie about all morning. There's work to be done."
He poured himself a cup of coffee and watched in wonder as Ohan attempted to leap smartly from his bedroll, tangled his feet in the blanket and fell over sideways in the dirt.
"Well, he certainly fits right in," the Commodore sighed. He stirred his cup with his index finger, licked it thoughtfully, then said, "And yet, gentlemen, we do have a duty to impart our knowledge to the young, to guide and instruct them. I pondered upon this a bit last night. After young Ahab here has his breakfast and has finished straightening up my tent, I may find a few minutes to take him in hand. You do write, don't you, lad? Good."
He made a sweeping gesture with his coffee cup that grazed the top of Ohan's head. "A well-lived life, gentlemen, is as much a work of art as any symphony or statue cast in bronze. And here am I adding daily to one of the mightiest works ever conceived by fate and the mind of man. Yet who is to hear it, read it, view it in all its magnificent splendor?
"What I need is a Boswell, someone to follow me about, record the odd reminiscence as it falls from my lips in my rare moments of quiet reflection, chronicle the events of the day as I live them, struggling against insurmountable odds and the incompetence of my closest associates." He cast an evil glance at the two yellow-eyed reptiles who sat leisurely finishing their breakfast.