The balled point of Len’s sword was quickly piercing the air on its way to Ben’s chest, which, if it found its mark would end the match, but Ben easily stepped back and parried the thrust. Ben feinted with his sword moving forward with his right hand, but then quickly changed the sword from his right hand to his left and thrust toward Len’s chest. Len parried the thrust but the sudden changing of hands threw him off balance, which gave Ben the opening he was looking for. He changed the sword back into his right hand and made a thrust, which Len could not defend. The balled point of Ben’s sword was rammed into Len’s chest and the kill buzzer sang out for all the audience to hear.
The match was over in two minutes and thirty-two seconds.
Again the Tarmorian crowd was appreciative of watching Grand Master Ben Hillar perform feats with the sword that few men in the galaxy could do. They applauded for several minutes before leaving to go to the wagering booths or to go about their business.
Ben's opponent, the young Tarmorian, Len, was sitting on his stool in a slouched position on the other side of the sparring mat. Obviously he was dejected over the loss of the match, but Ben could tell he had a natural talent, which would eventually win tournaments.
Ben walked over to him. "You gave a fine performance," he said. "I can tell you're going to go a long way in the art of swording."
Len looked up and smiled. "Thank you," he said.
"I look forward to seeing you again," said Ben. He wished him luck in the next tournament, and then headed for the private locker room.
Later, after Ben had showered, he met Lyil, Tam, and Rand in the outside lobby, and the four of them went to an elegant restaurant at one of the luxury hotels. Seven armed guards ushered them through the main area of the hotel keeping the patrons at a distance as they made their way to the elevators. Many of the Tamorians, seeing who it was, stopped what they were doing and applauded, even some of the tourists, who recognized Ben, applauded.
Because of Ben's celebrity status, a private, upstairs dining room with a balcony overlooking a colorful fountain and a green plush garden had been reserved for him and his guests. Little birds flitted from tree to tree singing melodious songs. Glow flies winked their lights off and on giving the appearance of twinkling stars inside the lush green. Misters periodically sent a fine spray of moisture giving a coolness to the air.
As the four of them sat down Ben noticed there were five settings, and wondered if he had missed something. He looked at Lyil and nodded his head toward the extra plate.
"Very shortly there'll be one more joining us," she said answering his look of inquiry. "Like you, he's well known among the Tarmorians and on other planets as well. We invited him because he said he would very much like to meet you. And I was sure you wouldn't mind."
"Of course not," said Ben.
Tam tapped her spoon on the table. "He better get here soon. I'm hungry. And I hear the food in this place is great."
Rand unfolded his napkin and neatly laid it on his lap. "My dear," he said looking at Tam, "if you were not hungry, I would be surprised."
Just then the door opened and a small Tarmorian man walked into the room. Ben and Rand stood up. "This is Dr. Ros-ejjon," said Rand introducing them.
Ben shook his hand, and they sat down.
"Now this is ironic," said Ben thinking it might be an understatement. "Dr. Ros-ejjon, the extremely successful writer and publisher of the satirical and political comic book, The ‘Adventures of Em and Nebbie,—distributed and sold on many of the planets throughout the Galaxy. It's partly because of this comic book that I've had such a hard time convincing people my research is worthwhile."
"My apologies," said Dr. -ejjon. "But on the other hand and quite to the contrary it's because of your research and the Galaef's interest in it that the sale of my comic book has nearly doubled in the last month."
"You're welcome," said Ben with a smile. And I must admit, it appears the comic books haven’t had a negative impact on the Galaef, because here I am about to embark on an archaeological dig looking for the Aeolian Master, the God of the winds—better known as ‘Em.’” "And since we're both happy with the outcome, then tonight should be a night of celebration." Ben motioned for the waiter.
"Yes sir?"
"Your best wine - all around."
"Yes sir." The waiter hurried away.
"So tell me Dr. -ejjon, how is it you get away with such slanderous political satire?" But before Dr. -ejjon could answer, Ben continued with, "In the last issue I remember Em was talking to Nebbie and said something like, 'We must act quickly, Nebbie.'" Ben was mimicking the voice of a hero. "'The Galaef has gotten us into a terrible mess, and if we don't do something quickly, the Galaxy will be doomed!'"
"Please," said Dr. -ejjon, "call me Ros." And then while looking at Ben he nodded toward Lyil. "And if you want to know why the Galaef hasn't shut me down, Ms. Zornburst would know better than me."
"Let's all go on a first name basis," said Lyil smiling pleasantly. "And as far as your comic book goes, my source at the top says the Galaef has decided to turn a blind eye and a deaf ear because he sees no danger in your books."
The waiter came with several bottles of wine and started pouring. After getting their dinner orders he hurried away.
While the waiter had been pouring, Ros said, "And it's lucky for me the Galaef sees no harm in my comic books. My bank account is nothing but several figures and a long line of zeros. And I love it."
Ben couldn't tell if Tam giggled and Rand laughed because of envy or jealousy.
"We read every new issue," said Tam. "Don't we honey?"
"Yes we do, and it's obvious that Ben does too. But maybe not with as much enthusiasm."
"Since my research deals in the myth of the Aeolian Master, I feel a need to keep abreast of what others are saying and thinking about him, even if it's in a comic book."
Under the table where no one could see, Lyil put her hand on Ben's leg. "Isn't it nice that you get to go on a dig looking for Em?" she asked.
"I think so," said Ros. "As long as we keep it in the news my comic books are going to sell like hotcakes."
Ben put his hand on Lyil's under the table and raised an eyebrow toward Ros. "Where did you learn that little piece of phraseology?"
"What? . . .'sell like hotcakes?'" Ros looked serious. "I make monthly trips to the library and pay good sums of money for long range communications just so I can keep up on everything you translate from the Earth digs. One of the reasons I started the Em comics is because I have always had a fascination with the Aeolian Master myth. And I, like you, have always thought there was more to it than just an ancient Earth fairytale." He paused and then said, "Have you ever thought that it might partially be because of my comic book that the Galaef took an interest in your research?"
Ben nodded slightly. "It crossed my mind."
This wasn't enough for Ros. "You remember in the last issue when Em says to Nebbie, 'And the Galaef used to think I was just a myth. So much for that. Now, here I am to save the Universe?'"
"I remember that," said Tam.
But Ros was still looking at Ben. "I've been making these subtle comments in my comic books for years, and it’s these phrases that get into people's subconscious minds. It's possible that this is one of the reasons people are hoping your research will be successful—even though we know you will never find an actual man. And that's why my comic books are selling through the roof."
"Like I said, 'It crossed my mind.'"
Two waiters came in with trays of food and started setting plates before Ben and his guests. When they finished, as was customary for waiters waiting on dignitaries, they stepped to the corners of the room to await further requests.
An awkward silence started to fall over the group, but Tam, being an outgoing Tarmorian, who had just finished her third glass of wine, would have none of that. She bit into a most scrumptious bite of fish brought in fresh from the Gorian Sea and said to Ros, "Lyil
is G-staff."
"Which is quite obvious," replied Ros who was a typical Tarmorian - oftentimes lacking politeness.
"Obvious?"
"Of course. She has a phasor strapped to her hip, and since only G-staff are allowed to wear phasors on Galactus, I knew instantly she was G-staff."
Tam giggled in her deep Tarmorian voice, which made it sound more like the intermittent hiccups of a Chaision lion. "That may be true, but did you know that she is the personal interviewer for Thorne?"
Since coming to Galactus and intermingling with the Tarmorians Ben came to realize that the Tarmorians, at least all the Tarmorians he had met so far, didn't put a lot of effort into learning Komotu. They spoke very guttural and with a thick tongue. They left out words or pronounced words wrong and because of this it was sometimes difficult to understand what they were saying. Now that Tam had consumed nearly a full bottle of wine it was becoming even more difficult to understand what she was saying.
But Ros understood what she said. His merriment turned into a frown, and then he seemingly changed the subject. "Have you heard of the Himmian House?" he asked looking at Ben.
"Now who's obvious?" asked Tam getting her logic turned around. "Everyone knows about the Himmian House," she slurred.
Because Ros was the exception and spoke the most articulate Komotu Ben had ever heard, he got the gist of Tam's reply. "Not everyone," Ben returned.
She took another bite of fish and between munches she said, "Well, everyone except you off-worlders."
Ben didn't appreciate nor did he understand her munching, slurring, broken Komotu. "Would you mind repeating that?" he asked.
"What she's saying," said Rand coming to his wife's defense, "is that all the Tarmorians know about the Himmian House. But it's not something we usually discuss with off-worlders."
"That's true," continued Ros, "but under these circumstances I feel it's not only 'okay,' but also necessary that we talk about it tonight." He paused and looked at Ben and Lyil. "But I must swear you to secrecy."
Ben kept eating, and Lyil was confused about this sudden talk of the Himmian House. Neither of them said anything.
"Well?" asked Ros, "will you promise not to talk about this to anyone?"
"I promise," said Lyil.
Ben thought the secrecy thing sounded a bit childish, but he said, "Sure, why not?"
"We don't discuss this with off-worlders because we don't know who we can trust. The entire situation smacks of political intrigue, and we're not sure how far up it goes, meaning we don't know if the Galaef is involved."
Lyil was immediately skeptical. "Let me assure you, the Galaef is not involved in any political intrigue. My best friend is his personal interviewer, and we know everything that goes on with the Galaef, and even if we didn’t, he would not be part of any subterfuge. Why should he when he’s already at the top?"
"That may be true," replied Ros. "But before you make up your mind, let me tell you about the Himmian House."
“Okay,” said Lyil, “tell us.”
"It was about five years ago when a family bought and moved into a house in the Himmian section of town—that’s a middle class tract on the western edge. When they moved in we immediately knew they weren’t Tarmorians, even though they pretended to be.”
"Pretending? How do you know they were pretending?" asked Lyil.
"To this day, they're still pretending. A Tarmorian always knows another Tarmorian. It's like a sixth sense. Or maybe it’s because our mannerisms cannot be skillfully duplicated."
"That is, indeed, a fact," said Rand. "These people look like us with their black hair, brown eyes, brown skin, even their facial features, but in spite of their elaborate disguises we can tell they aren't Tarmorians. And what's insidious about the whole affair is they don't know that we know it's all a farce."
Ros gave Rand a strange look, started to say something and then changed his mind.
"So now you're going to tell us what's behind the pretense—what they have to gain," said Ben.
"That's not quite accurate," said Rand drawling it out. "We have yet to discover why they’re doing it."
"Our secret police have been keeping them under surveillance for the past five years," said Ros. "In addition to that a group of private citizens have been keeping an eye on them, also, but to no avail. The Himmian House remains a mystery."
"Why haven't I heard of this before?" asked Lyil.
"We've already told you," replied Tam with a proud tone in her voice. "Tarmorians know how to keep a secret,"
"So why tell us now?"
Tam looked at Ros and said, "I don't know." And then, "Why are we telling them, Dr. -ejjon?"
"It was three years ago when I was informed that another family of fake Tarmorians had landed at the space port. So I decided to watch the Himmian House. I staked it out from midnight to six in the morning. And lo and behold, at 2:30 a.m. on the fourth morning, a large land transport pulled up in front of the house. The faux Tarmorians, who dwelled in the house, and three new ones used a fork lift and unloaded four, large boxes and took them inside.
"I was curious about the event so I hired a private investigator to follow the pretenders wherever they went and to report back to me.
"Over a period of two years, with his help and the help of some of my friends, we were able to establish an intricate connection between the pretenders and personnel inside the Galactic Federation Headquarters."
Lyil let out a slight gasp. "This has to be reported at once," she exclaimed.
"No!" retorted Ros. And then more calmly, "There are several reasons why we have decided to keep it amongst ourselves. First, we don't know what they're doing. It might be something completely harmless or maybe not. Thus far, nothing untoward has happened. Secondly, we don't know who is involved or how many. And thirdly, if they are up to something sinister, and they find out that we know, some of us might start disappearing." He looked at Lyil the way a confidant might look at his partner in crime. "Now you wouldn't want that on your conscience, would you?"
"Of course not," responded Lyil, "But if you're so afraid of terrible consequences, then why are you telling us?"
Ros didn't hesitate. "When I found out Dr. Hillar was coming to town and the purpose of his visit, I thought it over and decided to confide in him because he is an outsider with no connection to the politics of the planet, and because he will be spending time inside the political structure of the Federation.
"By telling you this now, you can be wary of any suspicious actions and perhaps give us a clue," he looked at Ben.
"Okay, so why me?" asked Lyil.
Ros met her eyes with his. "Because you're here, because you're G-staff and because you're with Dr. Hillar I've decided to take a chance on you because this may be the last chance I get to talk to him."
"That's a lot of 'becauses,' said Lyil with a serious tone in her voice, “and I would like to be able to conform to your wishes, but the fact is, I AM G-Staff, and that means it’s my duty to act on any information which may be a threat to the Galaef or to the Galactic Empire.” Dr. –ejjon started to say something, but Lyil held up her hand, and with a sour look on her pretty face she said, “Since I can sympathize with your position, I will keep it low key by starting a low level investigation. In the beginning there will be no need to make this information public nor to bring attention to the fake Tarmorians. If, however, I find anything to be of a serious nature, which might be any kind of a threat to the Galaef or the Galactic Empire, then I will not hold back, indeed, I will call out the troops and take serious action.”
Ben noticed Lyil tapping her fingers on the butt of her phasor as if her subconscious was getting ready for war.
“Well?” she asked, staring Dr. –ejjon in the face.
Doctor –ejjon appeared to be a bit nervous, which surprised Ben considering that most Tarmorians were tougher then hell. Dr. –ejjon said, “I’m sorry I brought it up, but since I did, and since you’re not goi
ng to go public with the information, then I say, it is a compromise I can live with.
“Good,” said Lyil. She turned to Ben. "What do you think about all this? Do you have any inclinations to be a part of the investigation?”
Ben frowned while looking at Dr. -ejjon. He didn’t like it, and he didn’t want anything to do with it. "For the moment my interests are solely in my research," he growled. "And I don't see any reason to get caught up in any political stratagem.”
"It was just an idea," said Ros. "We don’t like people living amongst us pretending to be what they are not. We just thought you could keep an eye out."
"I see no reason for my involvement,” repeated Ben. “Besides from what you've told me it seems you'll be finding the answer to this in the house with the fake Tarmorians. From what I've read," said Ben leaning back in his chair still scowling, "the Tarmorians, among other skills, are very good at stealth and sneakiness. They say you people make the best cat burglars in the Galaxy."
"What?" Ros looked confused.
"I’m just thinking you should have someone sneak into the Himmian House and find out what the fake Tarmorians are doing?"
The three Tarmorians sat looking at each other in silence. Finally Ros said, "Some of our people may be good at burglary, but most are not of the criminal mind, and we’re not going to break the law by sneaking into private property. There are proper channels to follow; including a reason to search, then obtaining a warrant."
Ben wasn’t persuaded, he said, “For a long time now I’ve realized that there can be circumstances which necessitate side-stepping the law, especially when it might saves lives in the future. I believe you should use your influence to have a private investigator hire a cat burglar to sneak in and find out what the hell is going on.
“Something has to be amiss, and you know it.”
Even though Ros sat quietly pondering Ben's last statement, Ben was sure he hadn’t convinced him to break the law.
Tam changed the subject by asking a question about swording, and the remainder of the dinner, although short, was talking about more pleasant subjects. Finally, as they stood up from the table Ros said to Ben, "I'll keep in mind what you've said, that is, about sneaking into the house." Then he said to Lyil, "You can contact me at my office during the day if you find out anything or if you need my help. My address is on the C-net."
Chapter Eleven