Author: M G Kizzia

Guardian Angel-18 Ali Pasha, part 3 of 3

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The Egyptian carried Ali Pasha into the building where the front room was now abandoned because of all the excitement.  Kirsten was there with that other man, and after Ali Pasha insisted on being allowed to stand on his own two feet, she led the way to the back door.

“There is a back door in this monstrous place?”  Ali Pasha was surprised.

Kirsten merely clicked her tongue.  “Every building has a back door.  How else could the Examiner leave unnoticed to visit his tarts by the docks.”

“He was a very immoral man,” the Egyptian confirmed.  “But Master, how is your head?”

“Yes,” Kirsten added with genuine concern in her voice.  They stopped walking so she could run her fingers through the back of Ali Pasha’s hair.

Ali Pasha ignored the word “Master” from the Egyptian and touched the back of his own head where Kirsten looked for signs of his injury.

“All healed,” he said, and Kirsten stepped back with a dumbfounded look on her face.

“Perhaps the man did not hit you as hard as it appeared,” Ahmed the Egyptian suggested.

“Must be so,” Kirsten said with some curiosity.  She looked at the stranger who was with them.

He shrugged before he opened up.  “I heard the Examiner’s blasphemy,” he said.  “I am only sorry we did not arrive sooner.”

“Oh,” Kirsten interrupted the man.  “But Captain, if you had been there sooner that would have put two heads on the chopping block.”  Kirsten did not sound like she liked the idea of that particular captain losing his head, and Ali Pasha looked closely at the man.  He was very young and dark in both hair and eyes, and he had a Gallic look about him.

“And you are?”  He asked a bit sharply, as they walked toward Ali Pasha’s house.  He was already feeling protective toward Lars’ daughter, and he probably would be for as long as she lived.

“Hans Newcomer,” the man said with a broad smile that Kirsten matched.  “Captain of the Flying Goose from Amsterdam.”  Ali Pasha looked again, with something like a father’s concern in his eyes.  Amsterdam was a strange province where Muslims and Christians worked side by side in the kind of tolerant society despised by people in the Society of the Mahdi.

“Rather young for a ship’s captain,” Ali Pasha said gruffly.  He looked at Kirsten who looked away, innocently.

“Yes, sir,” the captain responded.  “My father owns the shipping company.” He said that with some humility, and Ali Pasha cleared his throat as they started walking again.

“He was the only authority I could find after the mullah.”  Kirsten felt the need to explain.  “A ship’s captain can carry weight in court.”

“But how did you know the mullah was not a good choice?”  Ali Pasha asked as they stopped outside his front door.

“Elementary,” Kirsten said.  She pulled a small globe out of her apron pocket.  She touched it, actually clicked a switch, and the globe glowed.  She turned it off.  “He was playing with this when we went to fetch him.  It looked pretty alien to me, not that I would know.”

“So you thought an alternate authority might help.”  Ali Pasha nodded.  “Good thinking Sherlock,” he said and they went inside.

“Sherlock?”  Kirsten asked.

“A book friend Ethan said I must read.  A book about hounds,” Ali Pasha answered, and paused before he shrugged.  “I suppose I don’t mind playing the part of Doctor Watson.”  But then he did not have time to explain himself, because Jill, Ethan and Manomar were waiting for them in the parlor.

“It seems you have your work cut out for you.”  Ethan spoke right away.  Ali Pasha sat heavily in his chair and said nothing.

Jill was the one who made all the introductions, and to Kirsten’s surprise, Jill hugged the girl with a word.  “You take care of the Scholar, my dear.  Your father would be proud of you.”

“Not my real father,” Kirsten responded sadly.

“Perhaps he would, but certainly your other father.”  Kirsten understood and smiled to think of it as she went to sit on the floor at Ali Pasha’s feet.

“Ahmed of Egypt, why are you here?”  Ethan asked.

The big Egyptian went to his knees and lowered his head.  He glimpsed the Angels in the yard and he did not know what to make of these people, if they were people.  “Master Ali Pasha gave me my life back,” he said bluntly.  “I owe him everything.”  He looked up, and Manomar caught his eye.  Something unspoken passed between the two big men.  “Besides,” he continued.  “I know some of the ways of the Society of the Mahdi, and I now remember many things.  I understand that these alien Sorvee must be stopped before they put collars on the whole world.”

“Well said.”  Jill smiled for the man.  “And Captain,” she said and turned to the young man.  “Will you assist in this endeavor?”

The young man paused to rub the stubble on his young chin.  He looked at Kirsten and nodded.  “I do not understand who these Sorvee are, but if what I heard in the Examiner’s office is typical, and with what I have seen in the last hour including what I am seeing now is true, by which I mean if I am not dreaming, then I suppose.  I don’t know.  Who are these Sorvee?”  He turned to Kirsten

“Ali Pasha will explain,” Jill said.  “We only came to say good-bye and to say we will be taking Manomar with us.”

“Yes,” Ethan said.  “There were too many witnesses to his actions, even if the angels suggested it was justified.  We believe that you will not be bothered since your condemnation was sudden and not recorded.  The people will never know, but to leave Manomar with you will place a cloud over your head and it would make your work too difficult.”

With that, Ali Pasha looked up.  “I am glad there is a place for my friend,” he said.  “I would hate to see him tried for murder.  But I am thinking I need to be more careful in the future.”  He patted Kirsten’s hand like he would a favorite daughter.  “Even like my friend Lars, perhaps.”

Jill nodded, looked at Ethan and repeated his words.  “And you do have your work cut out for you, but I have every confidence that you can handle it.  Remember, the Sorvee are few, but insidious.  They probably have made a number of sincere converts to their cause both inside and outside the Society and the religious orders.  Keep in mind, though, the converts will not be aware that the goal of the Sorvee is to make the people in your world into mindless slaves.”

“I am thinking.”  Ali Pasha understood.  “But will you say farewell to Peter Alexander and Colonel deMartin?  It was a pleasure traveling with them.  Oh, and will you come again someday and let me travel to other worlds of wonder.  There is so much I am not knowing.  So much!”

“And Doctor Augustus,” Jill said with a smile as Ali Pasha nodded.  “I will give them all your best wishes.”  A shimmering doorway appeared.  “Only now we must go.  Godspeed.”  She stole Ethan’s line who had stolen it from Doctor Augustus.

“Take care of my friends.”  Ali Pasha said a last word.

“More than likely, Manomar will be taking care of Jill and me,” Ethan responded, and they stepped through the door and as they vanished from that world, they heard a final question.

“So who are these Sorvee?”  Captain Newcomer asked but only looked at Kirsten.

Guardian Angel-18 Ali Pasha, part 2 of 3

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Ali Pasha squinted through the window and saw Manomar bringing the mullah.  He wondered briefly where Kirsten was, but he waited a moment before he responded to Abbass so that the mullah could be brought inside.

“I would appreciate it if you would speak in my language,” Ali Pasha said, loudly.  “You alien beasts should learn to respect local customs, not simply use them for your wicked ends.”  As he spoke, Ahmed the Egyptian cracked open the door so their words could be heard in the outer hall.

Abbass smiled broadly and took a seat at the table.  “So you are the Guardian of Gaia as I suspected.  This is lovely.  Once you are gone, nothing will stand in our way.”

“Your way?  I stand in the way of Allah and walk the path of the Holy Prophet of God.  I will not let you make a mockery of my faith or my world.  You and your other Sorvee demons must vacate this world, immediately.”

“Very good.”  Abbass said.  “You know who we are.  That is more than I expected from an ignorant primitive.”

“We are not as ignorant as you suppose.  We are studied on the word and way of Allah through the Holy Koran, and once I have mastered imprinting the words on paper, I will make more copies than can be counted, faster than a thousand scribes, until every man has a copy to hold in his own hands.”

“Ah, but you see.  Printing and reading is something we cannot permit.”  Abbass answered.

“You will not mock the true faith, and you have no business speaking in the name of the Prophet of God or speaking the word of God with your unbelieving lips.”  Ali Pasha got hot, and it was hardly all playacting.

“Your faith is a sham and Mohammed was a fool, though his intolerance and his concept of Jihad are worthy of note.  Killing everyone who does not agree with you is almost to be admired.”

Ali Pasha nearly choked on what he heard.  He had to swallow the lump of his anger to speak, and then it was only one borrowed Christian word.  “Blasphemy!”  Then another thought was added.  “For such words the law requires your execution.”  As he spoke, the mullah came in and stared hard at Abbass before he spoke.

“Trouble?” he asked.

Abbass smiled.  “The Guardian of Gaia.”  He pointed at Ali Pasha.  “I never thought we would have the honor of cutting off his head in this forsaken outpost.”

The mullah smiled.  “The Lord of this world will be pleased,” he said, and motioned for Ahmed the Egyptian to grab the scholar.  Ali Pasha’s eyes were wide.  He had hoped to get Abbass to accuse himself, and that had worked marvelously well, but he never imagined that the mullah himself was Sorvee.

Ahmed took Ali Pasha by the arms, but gently, and they followed the two men out the door while those men conversed briefly in their Sorvee language.  They headed straight for the door and, no doubt, the chopping block.

“Forgive me, friend.  Thank you, but even if I have no choice, you should.  This much I can do.” As Ali Pasha whispered quietly, he touched his guard’s collar.  There was a soft “click” and the collar fell to the floor.  The Egyptian fell to the floor as well as too much raced through his mind at once.

Ali Pasha bolted.  He saw Kirsten by a back door.  A tall man was with her.  She was about to wave for him to run in their direction when the men in the front office, including the mullah’s servant, grabbed the scholar and dragged him back to the exit that led to the execution yard.  The mullah and Abbass looked briefly at the Egyptian on the floor.  The man was coughing and hacking, and they likely thought Ali Pasha managed a blow to the solar plexus or some such thing.  Neither noticed the collar was missing.

“This will not end things.”  Ali Pasha said to the two Sorvee as he was carted down the steps.  “The Gaia will select another, wiser soul than my own.  You demons of the Sorvee are exposed and you will be driven out.”

“I think the Society needs a purge on scholars in any case.”  The mullah said out loud.  “That may as well begin here.”

“We may be advanced for this capture of the Gaian dog and further for the suggestion concerning the scholars.”  Abbass grinned, wickedly.

“This, yes.  But the suggestion to purge all scholars, and all learning is nothing new.  We have already made it against the law for women to be educated in any way, couching it of course in a twisting of their own superstitious beliefs.  When it becomes illegal for men to be educated is only a matter of time.  It is all in the timing, though, and the Lord of this world will decide if the timing is right for such a purge.”

Ali Pasha’s head was down on the block, and though he was tied, his chits were already working on the ropes while the servants went to fetch the headsman.  “This will not end things.”  Ali Pasha said again; but Abbass gave a hand signal and the man who was left to guard the prisoner hit Ali Pasha hard on the back of the head and knocked him temporarily senseless.

When the axe man approached, two things happened at once.  A knife came through the air and struck the axe man square in the chest.  Manomar ran straight for Abbass and the mullah.  At the same time, Ahmed the Egyptian came barreling out of the door and headed directly for Ali Pasha.

Abbass pulled the dagger at his side and smiled at Manomar.  The little man imagined himself very good with a dagger, and he probably was, but Manomar pulled out a microwave pulse pistol and melted the man’s face.  The mullah turned to run, but Manomar had caught him and tackled him.  He grabbed Abbass’ fallen dagger to finish the job, personally.

Men ran around the yard in a panic, but most headed straight for Manomar.  They were angry and there were too many witnesses who saw the innocent Examiner and the mullah, of all people, murdered.  There was no way Manomar was going to escape a lynching.  He could never prove that Lord Abbass and the mullah were aliens, an assertion in his culture that would have sounded absurd on the face of it, nor would he ever be able to justify his killing of the axe man, but he was glad to give his life to save his master, Ali Pasha.  His own life hardly mattered.  He did not even plan to struggle when the men arrived.  But before that could happen, there was a great flash of blinding white light and two figures appeared beside Manomar.  They looked for all the world like Holy Angels of the Lord.  Every man in the compound stopped, and several fell to their knees.  Others fell to their faces.

“The Society of the Mahdi is a great evil that pretends to be good.”  Jill announced in a booming voice.  “Men and women must be free to come to Allah in their own hearts, in their own way and their own time.  The Society of the Mahdi must be destroyed.”  She made a door, and she and Ethan took Manomar aboard the ship, and disappeared.

“That was rather cheeky,” Ethan said.  “If these people wish to have a litmus test for true believers, who are we to say no.”

Jill smiled broadly and Ethan melted a little at her smile. “You’re learning.  So, do you want to stomp on my toes or slap me in the arm?” she asked.

“No,” Ethan said.  He wanted to kiss her instead

Guardian Angel-18 Ali Pasha, part 1 of 3

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Ali Pasha walked boldly into the Society of the Mahdi building with Kirsten on his heels, her head lowered like a good little slave.  Workers got out of their way and stared because people did not go into the Society building unless they were summoned.  It was not the sort of place that attracted visitors or volunteers.  Ali Pasha paid the workers no mind as he walked through the front gate with his head raised.  He had come to have it out with the Chief Examiner, and he was only hoping the others would get there in time.  It was not an elaborate plan, but the pieces did require a certain amount of careful timing to work.  He had given Kirsten a time keeping chit to match his and the one Manomar had, and he gave her a couple of other chits as well, just in case.  Lady Jillian had been right.  It drained him to do it; but he slept well and was ready to go in the morning.

“Good morning.”  Ali Pasha said boldly when he came into the front room and saw a man hovering over a paper strewn desk.  “I have come to see your Master, Ibin Mohamed Abbass.”  He gave the man no titles.

“His Lordship is not available this morning.”  The man in the front office said, and then he looked up at who was making such an unusual request.  He looked startled for a minute.  “You are the scholar?”  Ali Pasha nodded.  “Men were just sent to your residence to collect you.”

“Well, here I am.  You could have saved them all that trouble.”

“This way.”  The man gave a little bow.  He was undoubtedly confused.  People usually came in kicking, screaming, protesting and trying their best to disturb everyone they could.  He would not have given such a person a second glance, and might have even yawned.  But here, this scholar was smiling at the prospect of facing the Chief Examiner, and the poor man in the front room was not sure what to make of it.  He brought the scholar to a room to wait.

“Go home child.”  Ali Pasha told Kirsten and waved his hand in dismissal.  “Your services will not be needed here.”  She only came to warn the others in case they grabbed Ali Pasha and took him immediately to the rack.

“Yes, my master.”  Kirsten responded with a bow of her head and scurried off while Ali Pasha gathered the stunned man’s attention.

“Now, will you kindly inform your Master Abbass that I have come to his house in return for his visit to my house, and this time I have some questions.”

No!  This was too much for the poor man from the front room.  People did not ask the Examiner questions, especially the Chief Examiner.  He held the door and Ali Pasha entered a room with one small window.  He turned his nose up at the poor accommodations, but he nevertheless sat in the nearest chair to wait.  The poor man closed the door softly and went back to the front, shaking his head the whole way.  He would have to sit and think this through.

Ali Pasha considered the room as he ran his finger around the dust on the table in the center of the room.  With four spindly chairs, the table made the small room into a very small space.  There was a brazier in one corner that would be lit at night to give light, and a smaller side table by the window, which held a vase without flowers and a scroll that someone had recently been looking at and quite possibly forgot where they left it.  He looked at the door that was closed, and at another door on the opposite wall.  He wondered briefly where that other door led, but he hardly cared.  He had no intention of going anywhere.  The inner wall of the room sported a Persian rug, hung like a true medieval tapestry, and the outer wall held the window.  Ali Pasha had to squint and strain his eyes to see anything at all through that thick glass.  It kept out the cold in winter and the bugs in summer, and it let in the light, but it was not good for much else.  He marveled again at having been allowed to see real glass, stained glass, and in the Ridgetop hospital, triple thermal plascticized optic panes, which looked like nothing was there at all.

Ali Pasha turned at the sound of the door opening.  A man the size of Manomar came in, shut the door, and folded his arms as if to suggest that the scholar should stay where he was put.  Wonder of wonders, the man sported one of those sickly green collars, and Ali Pasha had an immediate thought, but he did not know how to pursue it.  He sat at the table and drummed his fingers.

“Have you a name?”  He asked his guard.

The guard just glared.

“Do you not speak the tongue, or has your tongue been cut out?”  Ali Pasha tried again.

“I speak well enough.”  The man spoke this time.  “I am Ahmed the Egyptian, and you had better not try your devilish words and tricks on me.  I have been ordered to keep you here and so here you will stay.”

Ali Pasha drummed his fingers for a minute more before he spoke again.  “Jillian, are you there?”

The guard glanced up but said nothing.

“I am.”  The answer came softly into Ali Pasha’s ears.  “But you can speak to me without sound if you wish.  Your psychic chips can pass along your words, and this way the guard will hear nothing of our conversation.”

“Marvel upon marvel.”  Ali Pasha thought before getting down to business.  “I am wondering, can the collar be reprogrammed?  Is that the right word?”

“Yes and yes,” Jill answered.  “But to what end?”

“I suspect the gentleman before me is no friend of the society or he would not be shackled with a collar, but I suspect he is a useful tool and has probably been present at many otherwise secret events.  If I could turn his loyalty from Abbass to myself, he may prove an equally useful fountain of information.  Then also, he might spare my life if killing me becomes his primary task.”  Ali Pasha shrugged.  It was a natural motion, and exactly what he would have done if he had been speaking to a person who was in the room with him.

“Simple,” Jill said.  “Think of a chit to accomplish that very task and give it a bit of time to grow.  You will know when it is ready.  In the meanwhile, this is not a criticism, but you have given out more chits than is wise when going into battle.  I understand your desire to protect the young girl, and given her likeness to our other Kirsten I cannot blame you, but a day or two to rebuild your resources would not have hurt.”

“I understand, but I was sure I would not have the time, and if the Examiner sent men to my house to fetch me this very morning, I see that my guess was right.”

“I understand also.  Just something to consider in the future.”

“Hmm.”  Ali Pasha made the sound out loud and went back to drumming his fingers on the dusty table.

The chit was ready in almost no time, and all Ali Pasha had to do was find a way to deliver it.  He finally decided the direct approach would have to do.  He stood.  The man by the door shifted; and put his hand closer to his knife.

“I have been thinking about that marvelous necklace you wear.  I have never seen the like and it looks very finely made.  May I see it?”

“What necklace?”  The man responded sharply.  He sincerely did not know he had anything around his neck.

“This here.”  Ali Pasha pointed and stepped closer as if to touch the item.  The man quickly pulled his blade and Ali Pasha stopped.  “Forgive me.  You are big and strong.  I am old and fat.  I mean you no harm and I could not harm you if I wished.  Please put down the blade.  I only wish to see.”  The man hesitated, and in that hesitation, Ali Pasha reached out.  Fortunately, it was a very small room.  He touched.  The man immediately put his hand up as if noticing the collar for the first time.  He looked ready to rip it off for a second as he began to sweat, and Ali Pasha decided to put the table between himself and the knife just to be safe.

“Ahh.  Nnn.”  The man made soft sounds of distress, but he did not cry out, and the thought of that possibility made Ali Pasha sweat.  Then it appeared to be over and the man surrendered.

“Command me master.”  The big man said at last, and Ali Pasha spoke quickly, not knowing how much time he had.

“Ahmed of Egypt, you must continue to pretend you are working for your former master, but guard my person at all costs.  I will set you free when it is safe, and you must remember who has done this for you.  Now, quietly.  How long have you served the Lord Abbass?  Speak only when we two are alone and not to be overheard.”

The man opened up.  He had a long history with the Society in the Old World, and with Abbass, specifically.  About all Ali Pasha could get in their limited time was that it was as he had feared.  The Society was full of Sorvee, and Ali Pasha imagined the Society might even be a Sorvee invention.

There was the sound of someone in the hall and Ali Pasha and his new man took their positions.  Abbass entered, gave a sharp, quick look to the guard and then smiled broadly at Ali Pasha.  “Welcome to my humble abode,” he said as Ali Pasha stood to face him.  Then he added two words in his Sorvee language.  “You fool.”

Guardian Angel-17 The Examiners, part 3 of 3

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Manomar and Kirsten came in immediately.

“Will you really teach me the letters, my master?”  Kirsten asked.  The girl seemed excited by the idea.

“Yes, if you like.”  Ali Pasha answered, but his mind was elsewhere.

“You said print.”  Manomar pointed out the gaff.

“I said imprint, didn’t I?”  Ali Pasha countered, but Manomar shook his head.  “Perhaps he did not notice,” Ali Pasha suggested.  Manomar shook his head again, and Ali Pasha shared the last sentence the Examiner said as he left.  Manomar nodded at that as if to say that he was not surprised.

“I don’t understand,” Kirsten interrupted.  “Are you examining the Examiner?”

“Yes, he is not from our world, and my chit has analyzed his language.  He is Sorvee, and that is not a good thing.”

Kirsten looked very confused.  “Not of this world, you said.”  Manomar took her gently to a seat while he and Ali Pasha did their best to explain.  She had a most curious comment when they were done.  “So that really was my father by the docks, only it was my father from another world.”

“Yes.”

“And is there another Kirsten there?”

“Yes.”

Kirsten smiled, and it was a lovely young smile on the big girl’s face.  “I am twins and I don’t even know it.”  She made a joke before she turned serious.  “And you know my father and mother on that other Earth,” she said.  When they confirmed her intuition, she understood.  “But I may be a very different person in this world,” she said in her honest way.  “How do you know I can be trusted?”  Ali Pasha and Manomar looked at each other while Kirsten put her finger to the edge of her lips, looked up, and said, “I think we need to catch him in the act, admitting that he is a fraud from another world.”

Manomar and Ali Pasha agreed, and they spent a large part of that evening planning their moves.

###

Jill, Ethan, Peter Alexander and Colonel deMartin spent the evening discussing the matter as well, and Jill was as up front as she could be.

“The Sorvee appeared in the worlds about four hundred years ago.  They were the descendants of the Assyrians or Akkadians if you prefer.  They spoke of their home as eternal Ninevah.  The Sargon was what they called their ruler.  They spoke of peace and claimed that they only wanted to explore and settle peacefully where they could.  They told us of the terrible war on their world, and we checked and found most of their world uninhabitable, worse than Doctor Augustus’ world, far worse.”

“That was back in the days when the Gaian began to realize that not everyone finding their way into the Worlds was sweetness and light,” Ethan added out of his own store of knowledge, which he was beginning to read more and more easily.

“That’s right,” Jill agreed.  “Someone finally started asking questions, and eventually we found out that the war that devastated the Sorvee planet was in fact a rebellion.”

“Let me see if I can do this.”  Ethan interrupted, and Jill quieted to give him the chance.  “The ancient Assyrians in the Sorvee world took Elam, Media and Persia, so there was no one to be allied with Babylon and rebel.  The Assyrians conquered Egypt, even in my world, and then, unlike the Persians who came after them in my world, they turned the Greeks against each other and picked up the pieces.  They did much the same in China during the period of the warring states.  In fact, their history suggests that they got very good at fomenting trouble between peoples so they could step in after those peoples knocked each other silly.”

Jill interrupted.  “You are still comparing too much to your own world,” she said, but she smiled.  “Let us say that in time, the whole world came under Assyrian domination, and they were not a nice and kind people even from the beginning.  That made for Akkadian overlords who progressed over the centuries in luxury and in technological wonders, while everyone else lived in abject slavery, kept ignorant, uneducated, diseased and starving.  You get the picture.  The day came when the people finally rebelled, and the Sorvee destroyed their own planet rather than allow the people to be free.”

“So then they found their way into the worlds and claimed to be refugees from a sad but terrible war,” Ethan said.

“And everyone felt sorry for them, but just when people started asking questions, we had to deal with the Nelkorians.  That took a hundred years while the Sorvee had a relatively free hand to establish a presence in many worlds.  Do not misunderstand.  Most terrible things are homegrown.  The salvation for the worlds, as far as the Sorvee go, is the fact that there are not many of them.  Very few of them survived their rebellion-war.  But wherever you see drug pushers or suicide bombers or Nazi or Communist Parties with their Auschwitz and gulags, or book burners, or those who ridicule education or reading, or Societies of the Mahdi, look carefully.  If they can drive a civilization into the ground, into ignorance and desperation for a savior, their chances of taking over and ruling that world, as they once did in their home world, are greatly enhanced, and they are not above every dirty trick in the book.”

“How can anyone even think that way?”  Peter Alexander asked.  “We may believe our way is best, but when we say this and try to convince others it is because we care about people and we want everyone to have the best.  We do not support any thinking that diminishes people.  No right-thinking person does.”

“Even Ali Pasha’s world of slaves and Eunuchs believes that their Prophet is the best way for all people and they wish all people would to come to the light so there would no longer be the need for slaves and eunuchs,” Ethan added.

“There will always be criminals,” deMartin jumped in.  “But I have never imagined the criminals running the world.”

“But you don’t fully understand,” Jill said, and she turned to Ethan.  “There were well meaning people in your own world not that many years ago that justified slavery based on the idea that black people were somehow inferior or less human than others.  A hundred years later, many Germans honestly believed that the true, pure Arians should rule everyone else.”  She looked at them all.  “Over the centuries, where no one has been there to tell them otherwise, the Sorvee convinced themselves that their entire world was full of wild, half-humans who needed to be conquered and kept in their place, almost like caged animals, or maybe domesticated animals.  They treated their own fellow humans like cattle, and never thought twice about it.   It was no stretch for them to consider the people in the worlds in the same way.  It may be more difficult to simply conquer the worlds as they once did their own world.  They know there are those who will try to stop them, but that has not stopped them from using all of their old tricks.  The same rules apply.  If they can destroy the local civilization and get people to beat each other senseless, they can step in and take over.”

“But to behave so.”  Peter Alexander wanted to argue.

“Listen, they think nothing of lying, cheating, stealing, even mass murder of your people because they do not consider your people to be real people.  I know it is a hard concept to grasp, but only the Sorvee are real full-fledged people to other Sorvee.  You must understand that to them you are no more than sophisticated animals, maybe slightly above dogs.”  Jill finished.

“Maybe,” Ethan said the last word and realized that Ali Pasha was going to have his hands full for years to come.

Guardian Angel-17 The Examiners, part 2 of 3

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When they returned to the house with Kirsten in tow, Ali Pasha was not surprised to find Chief Examiner Ibin Mohamed Abbass, Lord of the Society of the Mahdi waiting for him.  He could hardly have expected more if he had sent the man an engraved invitation.  “Lord Abbass,” he said, and emphasized the latter half of the man’s name, which caused Kirsten to hide and swallow her laugh.  “What brings you to my humble home?”

“I have been anxious over your disappearance.”  The little man shared polite bows with the scholar.  “I was curious that it happened at the same time your former guests disappeared.  May I ask where you have been?”

Ali Pasha put on a sad face and invited the man inside.  He instructed Manomar to take Kirsten to the women whom he said were in the next room.  “And wait there.”  Ali Pasha instructed, sternly.  Manomar bowed in a way, which indicated he understood.  He and Kirsten would be able to hear everything that was going on from the other room.

“My former guests!”  Ali Pasha looked offended for a second.  “How sweet they talked.  How knowledgeable they seemed.  I am embarrassed to say they fooled me completely.  Even when your men came to collect them for the slave market, I thought it was a terrible mistake.  I went to my neighbors and borrowed the money to buy them back, but then I heard that you took them to be examined, and I finally realized that I had been played for the fool.”  Ali Pasha sat heavily in a chair and indicated that the Examiner should sit as well.  It was a good performance, but the question was whether or not Lord Abbass bought it.

The little man sat slowly.  “But this does not explain where you have been during these days.”

“The wilderness.”  Ali Pasha said quickly and waved his hand at some distant, obscure places while he added just enough curiosity to his tone of voice to suggest that the answer should have been obvious.  “When I realized the truth, I was truly embarrassed.  I came and grabbed my trusty servant, Manomar, and we headed for the wilderness.”  He waved his hand again.  “You know, I am only truly happy when I am exploring new things.  Thus is the life of an inquirist, I’m afraid.”  He sighed heavily, having learned how from Omar the Idiot.

“Just the two of you?”  Abbass was not convinced.  “There were no others with you, not even guards for your protection?”

“Well, yes, just the two of us.”  Ali Pasha paused as if considering his words.  “I see now that just the two of us was rather foolish, but to be sure, I was so upset I could hardly think straight.  Did you know there is a ridge some many miles inland, and from there we could see all the way to the River, and even see the smoke fires rising from New Ark?”

The Examiner did not answer right away.  Instead, like a good lawyer, he rephrased his previous question in the hope of catching Ali Pasha in a lie.  “So just you and your servant went off into the wild without any concern of wild animals, savages or anything.”

“Yes,” Ali Pasha said firmly.  “It sounds a bit crazy now to think of it.  I suppose I will have to give thanks for our safe return.  Perhaps a donation to the Mosque would be in order.”

“And with no equipment, no tents or otherwise?”

“Manomar had his long knife, and we were able to make a shelter from the trees and branches, and we could hunt a little.  I confess, I have lost weight, but my wives will certainly not object to that.”  Ali Pasha stood and pretended to model for the Examiner, seeking affirmation with his eyes for his trimmer figure.  The examiner nodded politely, though he would have no way of knowing if Ali Pasha lost weight or not.

“And we did run into a savage, to be honest,” Ali Pasha confirmed.  “But I never considered that possibility until there he was, painted face and all.  His name was Petar or Petras, I am not sure how you say it.  You know how difficult communication between two languages can be, but I shared a simple string of beads I had around my neck and he shared a rabbit, and then he was gone, just like that.”  Ali Pasha clapped his hands once, sharply.

“A remarkable encounter,” Abbass said as if this story was becoming more, not less difficult to believe.

Ali Pasha pretended sudden excitement at that point.  “But now I cannot hold my tongue any longer,” he said as his whole attitude changed.  He realized that he also had to change the subject.  “Please, I must tell someone and it would be an honor to speak of this to you.”  Abbass indicated that he was listening, and Ali Pasha began with a flourishing of his sleeves.

“On the fifth day, in the midst of my evening prayers, when the sun was at my back and I was facing the smoke in the East, a most remarkable thing happened.  Praise Allah, but I was inspired as I have never been before, which tells me well that the Holy Prophet has not abandoned me for my foolishness with those wicked people.  Come and see.”  He stood and stepped over to a worktable in the corner where he began to open boxes containing stamps.

“Look, look,” he said.  “When I was leaving my home in Andalucia, I had these stamps made to mark whatever specimens I might find and keep them together in an organized fashion.  You see, I have a stamp for every letter and form in the Arabic tongue.  Do you see how these make the word for fish?”  He laid them on the table upside down.  They formed a mirror image of the word, but it could be read.

“I see,” Abbass said, and he looked at Ali Pasha with new eyes of suspicion, which Ali Pasha ignored.

“It came to me in a flash that if I set these and others in a box where they would not move around, do you see, I could make a whole page of words at once.  I think the paper would have to be flatly pressed against the inked stamps, but I could make many pages of the same information.  Do you see what I am saying?  And then if I could change the stamps around, I could make a second page and a third.”

“I see.”  The Examiner stroked his beard though he did not sound impressed.

“You see, but you do not understand.”  Ali Pasha turned and took the man by the arms.  “I could print or press the Koran much faster and cleaner than all the scribes in Mecca.  People could at last have the Holy Words to touch with their own hands and read with their own eyes.  Don’t you understand what this means?”

“Yes.”  The Examiner spoke without any heart in his words.  “Moveable type,” he added in a language, which he always said was his native tongue, and claimed was an obscure North African dialect.  In the past, Ali Pasha would not have given it another thought, but now he understood the words, exactly, even if he had to let on that he did not understand.

“Yes?”

“And the girl you just purchased?”  The Examiner asked.

“Ah!”  Ali Pasha briefly widened his eyes and spoke as if this was all some great secret and he was letting a good friend in on the ground floor.  “I have seen this one sorting fish by the sea and laying them out for sale in the market.  She has a good eye.  She knows a straight line, she already knows how to work a press to extract the fish oils, and she claims her mother taught her to read and write a most unusual thing in a slave.  I will train her to run my press.  Do you see?  She will lay my letters in a straight line and press ink instead of oil, do you think?”

“Yes.”  The Examiner was still not impressed.  “But I think also I would like to know why the guards at the gate have no memory of you and your servant leaving town.”

“Auch.”  Ali Pasha inadvertently used Lars’ word.  “I have been in and out of the gate so many times since coming to this new world, I would guess they simply did not notice.”

“Perhaps.”

“Ah, but now please.  If you don’t mind I have much to do with my stamps.  I appreciate your visit and your concern, but as you can see, I am not corrupted.  I am still the same old inquirist.  That is all a forgotten incident, and one to embarrass, so I hope it will stay forgotten.  Now, if you will forgive me.”

“Very well.”  The Lord of the Mahdi headed for the door.  “But we will speak again.”  Then he added a phrase in his supposedly obscure native tongue.  “I know the Gaian do not stray very far from their dogs,” he said, but he smiled and bowed as if bidding good day, and he left.

Guardian Angel-17 The Examiners, part 1 of 3

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Jill and Ethan looked at each other in silence for a long time.  Duncan was the first Gaian Ethan had actually met after Dominic, and he felt a little embarrassed at the way the man acted toward him as Jill’s presumed husband.  He came from an America that had no nobility and no royalty.  Of course, he had learned that Jill was a princess, only it never dawned on him that it would make a difference in his standing.  It was going to take some getting used to.  Jill was not going to interrupt his thoughts.  She knew full well what he was struggling with.  What could she say?  She just had to let him work things out in his own time and in his own way.  She knew that much.  It was that way with the worlds.

“Where are we?”  Ali Pasha asked the couple.  He interrupted again, now certain that his travels were at an end.

“As you think,” Jill responded this time with a smile.  “This is your home.  But I will ask one more time, Ali Pasha, are you sure you want to do this now that you have seen the violence to which it can sometimes lead?  I can remove your chits with no injury to your person and you will never regret a decision that you will never remember.”

“I am sure that I will do my job, though whether I will do it well or not remains to be seen.”  He spoke courageously, like a man determined to fulfill his destiny.  “I do not yet know if I can kill a man, but by the will of Allah, it might never come to that.  As it is, I do not know if many outsiders will be interested in my world.  We have no technology and no reasonable means of supporting a technologically sophisticated people.  We have not even invented gunpowder, and I pray that we never will, though I know it is probably inevitable if it has not already been discovered in some dark corner of the Earth.  I will not stand in the way of the progress of my people.  I am an inquirist.  Ignorance is my enemy.  But I see now that knowledge is not always salvation.  In the end, it depends what we do with what we know.”

“I believe my master is learning wisdom,” Manomar said with a smile.

“Master.”  Ali Pasha no longer liked the word.  “In some ways it will be hard not to interfere with my own world’s development, but at least I will try to keep us from becoming slaves to some outside people.”  He looked at the others and then looked at his feet and shuffled them toward the waiting door.  “Come, Manomar,” he said.  “We have a Master Examiner of the Society to remove, for a start.”  He dared not say more, but it was possible the whole Society of the Mahdi was full of alien men.

###

Ali Pasha and Manomar got out near the New Ark city gate.  The guards there were not surprised to see them and let them into the city without lifting a hand.  Ali Pasha was known for his expeditions into the wilderness, so no one questioned them.

“We must stop on the way and pay back the money I borrowed, with interest.”  Ali Pasha told Manomar.

“My master is thoughtful.”  The big man grinned.

Ali Pasha looked up into the big, black face for a minute.  “At this point I think friend would be more appropriate, but master is probably for the best.  We must keep up appearances, and a scholar knows all about keeping up appearances.”  Manomar just smiled.

After they had paid back the money, and without being too obvious about it, let everyone know that they were back in town, Ali Pasha led his faithful man across the whole length of the town to the docks.  They greeted everyone they could along the way.  He had little trouble finding the girl, Kirsten, since he knew exactly what she looked like.  He had a bit more trouble finding her owner who turned out to be drunk and sleeping it off at the back of a sailor’s hostel.

“I don’t understand, sire.  Why would you wish to purchase me?”  Kirsten asked.

“I knew your father.”  Ali Pasha answered her in her own Englander tongue.  “He was a good man.”

“That is not what my mother told me.”  Kirsten answered honestly enough.  “She said he was a worse drunk than my Master, Omar the Idiot.”  Kirsten was not shy about sharing her feelings and opinions.  This was not a good trait for a slave, though Ali Pasha thought it was better than he had reasonably hoped.  Such impertinence clearly showed that the young woman had not surrendered to being a slave forever.

“Ah, but I knew your mother Angelica, too.  She was a good woman even if she had hard and fast rules for everything.”

“Well.”  Kirsten pursed her lips at the mention of her mother’s hard and fast rules.  “It does sound like you knew my mother.”

“So you see, I felt it was only my duty to see to their child.  Call it a simple kindness on my part for old time’s sake.  Isn’t that right, Manomar?”

“In truth my master,” Manomar responded.  “Lars and Angelica are, were good people.  One can easily see that in their offspring.”

Kirsten hardly knew what to say.  “Thank you.”  She tried to wake her owner gently, but then she threw a tankard of water on Omar the Idiot’s face.  “Wake up you fool,” she said.

As Kirsten worked on the drunk, Ali Pasha spoke an aside to Manomar.  “You know in Ethan’s world, the followers of the Prophet refuse to touch alcohol as the Holy Koran suggests.  It is not a bad idea.”

The man did eventually rouse as he sputtered from the water that sloshed into his open mouth.  “What is it?  What is it girl?  It had better be important or I will beat you raw.”

“Now, now,” Ali Pasha said.  “None of that kind of talk if you please.”  Manomar simply moved within reach of the man’s face and snarled.

“We have visitors.”  Kirsten introduced them.  “Ali Pasha the Scholar, this is Omar ben-Ebrahim.”

“Ben-Ebrahim?”  Ali Pasha spoke while he thought, not the Idiot?

“It is a common enough name,” the man blustered.  “What’s a man like you want in an indecent place like this?”

“I want to buy your girl,” Ali Pasha said while Manomar looked over his shoulder.  The bartender was keeping a close eye on the proceedings.  Obviously, he wanted Omar with gold rather than a girl.  He was not inclined to accept the girl in exchange for drinks, but gold would do just fine.

Omar sized up the well dressed scholar.  “I could let her go for thirty pieces,” he said and let out a sigh which suggested that the price was a sacrifice on his part.  It was a sigh that would become very annoying before the bargaining was done.

“Thirty?”  Ali Pasha followed the ritual.  He indicated how shocked he was at the suggestion, and in this case, it took very little acting.  “I am a scholar, not a Mogul.  I have need of this girl for my studies, but I am hardly a rich man.”

Omar shrugged and sighed.  Then he licked his dry lips and tried again.  “For a scholar and an honest man, I might consider half price, say fifteen?”

“I was thinking more like five for one blond barbarian girl.”  Ali Pasha responded, and they were doomed then to dicker for a while.  In the end, Ali Pasha was pleased with himself for paying nine rather than the ten gold pieces that would be the expected compromise between five and fifteen, and it only took one drink to make the bargain.  On the other hand, Omar had no reason to complain.  On the open market, Kirsten would have fetched about seven, and only because she was still so young.

“So, now you are my master?”  Kirsten checked, now that all the papers had been signed and duly witnessed.  The bartender added his name in big, bold print.

“Technically, eh Manomar?”

“My master is given to illusions,” Manomar said.  “He considers me his friend.”

“Really?”

“Yes, and I think you might turn out to be the good daughter I never had.  Someday, I might even see you married to a proper man, as long as his name is not Veek.”

“Really?”  Kirsten was excited by the idea.  She was sure her fortunes were going up.  “But you have no children?”  She asked, in consideration of the Scholar’s feelings.

“Children?  I have plenty of children and plenty of daughters, only I am not sure there is a good one among them.”  Ali Pasha laughed.

“Yasmina?”  Manomar suggested.

“Yes,” Ali Pasha admitted.  “She is tolerable.”

Guardian Angel-16 Dealing with the Details, part 1 of 1…only 1

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“Catching flies?”  Jill could not believe he said that.

Ethan shrugged and caught her.  She wanted to pull away, but he kissed her and she kissed him back.  “What am I going to do with you?”  She asked more softly.

“Let me love you?”  He made the suggestion, but she still slapped his arm on principal, only not too hard.

“Where are we?”  Ali Pasha asked the couple, not meaning to interrupt, but he had a feeling that his travels might be at an end.

“Not yet.”  That was all Jill said to the man before she turned toward Ethan.  “Follow-up,” she explained.  “I cannot stress how important that is.  So much trouble would be avoided if people would just follow up.”

They appeared in a massive city that covered all of New York City, Long Island, most of Northern New Jersey, Southern New York State and most of Connecticut.  Ethan could not tell if there was a border, anywhere.  The buildings were as tall as any he had seen and the air was full of flying vehicles that followed strict lines between the skyscrapers.

Jill flew their nickel all out of sync with the traffic but it was safer that way.  They were of a size not to be noticed at all, but they were big enough to rip through some vehicle if they had a chance encounter.  It would not have bothered them in the slightest, but it would have torn that unsuspecting vehicle to shreds.  Fortunately, the ship’s speed and systems were more than capable of avoiding all such encounters, no matter how full of vehicles the sky became.

“The space port.”  Jill pointed it out on the screens for the others.  “That building with the do not enter sign on the roof is where the transitional technology is housed; that is the building that has a red circle with a white line through the middle.”  The building was a relatively short, squat building, being only about twenty stories tall, but it looked big enough to contain Captain Rawlings’ entire battleship, and maybe a second one beside it.

“Aren’t we going there?”  Ethan asked.  Jill let them hover overhead for a minute while the others watched a spectacular lift off of a ship, which Ethan surmised, was on a trajectory for Mars, or possibly deep space.

“Look.”  Jill pointed to the Main.  Ethan immediately noted that the world did have a Guardian, but he was presently on the other side of the globe.

“Shouldn’t they be here, where the transitional action is?”  Ethan asked.

Jill’s eyes said of course.  She did not have to speak out loud as she shifted their position to where the Guardian was apparently hiding.  There was another Gaian ship in the vicinity, and as Ethan surmised, the Gaian over that world had already made an appearance.  Jill projected her and Ethan into the small underground chamber, though she kept them invisible for the moment.

“Professor Schrom.”  The Gaian tried to speak, but he kept being interrupted.

“I don’t care what you say.  Yes, I designed the cyborg components to fight the Vordan.  I know I am not supposed to do that sort of thing, but I could hardly let my world be overrun with aliens.  I didn’t give them any advanced weaponry.”

“Only because you deemed that it was not necessary,” the Gaian said.

The professor nodded and sighed.  “Yes, I would have if I calculated it as necessary.”

“And now they have escaped into the worlds.”  The Gaian was scolding.

“I know.”  The professor sat heavily in the chair beside the simple table.  “But really, how was I to know the Vordan were working on worlds technology?  And how was I supposed to know the cyborgs would steal it?”

Jill manifested their presence in the room.  The Gaian took one look and went to a knee, bowed his head and waited for his princess to speak before he spoke again.  The professor jumped up.  His chair fell backward to thump against the rug.

“Duncan.”  Jill acknowledged the Gaian before she spoke to the local.  “Professor Schrom.  We have no law against you defending your earth with every means at your disposal, as long as you do not inherently advance your people beyond their capacity.”

“I – I”

“The monstrosities you made went above and beyond, professor, and you know that full well.”

“I – I’m sorry.”  The professor dropped his eyes.  “I saw no other choice.”

“Your choice was to call Duncan and ask his advice.”  Jill was not to be argued with.

“But the Vordan were not an intrusion.”  The professor pleaded innocence.  Jill just looked at him with eyes as hard as steel.  “Okay.  I admit it.  I wanted to destroy those alien slugs.”

“Duncan.”  Jill spoke again, and Duncan touched the professor.  The professor immediately collapsed to the floor like a rag doll.  Duncan caught the man’s head and laid it softly on the floor.  He began to run his hands up and down a few inches from the man’s body and spoke as he worked.

“Your highness.  I am so glad to see you alive and well.  I saw Dominic about a week ago and he told me the good news, but I hardly believed him.”

“And did he mention Ethan, my husband?”  Jill asked.

Duncan paused to look at Ethan.  He bowed his head slightly.  “My Lord,” he said, and went back to work without answering the question.

Jill frowned a little.  “Are your travelers watching?” she asked.  When Duncan nodded, she took Ethan’s hand and spoke to Duncan’s people as well as her own crew back on her own ship.

“Professor Schrom is asleep, and Duncan is removing the Guardian chits from his system.  You have every right to defend your worlds from aliens as you do from any intruder, but only in so far as it does not interfere with the natural development of your world.  Otherwise, you will become guilty of the very thing we are sworn to protect against.  Each world that you defend must rise or fall on its’ own without interference, and that includes interference from you.  Professor Schrom is guilty of breaking that sacred law in two ways.  First, he advanced this world by creating the cyborgs and the pulse emitters designed to incapacitate those cyborgs.  Second, even though he argued that he could not have known in advance, he allowed his cyborgs to escape into the worlds where they risk corrupting more earths than his own.  Learn that lesson now.  We are not omniscient.  None of us can know in advance the consequences of our actions.  To claim that he did not know the Vordan were working on worlds technology nor that the cyborgs would steal it is no excuse.”

“So, what will happen to the professor now?”  Ethan asked for everyone.

“He will wake in about an hour and not remember that he was guardian for this world.  He will not remember us, the Gaian, at all.  Unfortunately, we cannot go back and undo the technological advancements he gave to his people, and we can only watch to be sure his people remove the Cyborgs from the worlds to which they have been scattered.”

Duncan raised his hands by the professor’s mouth and the professor let out a great breath.  Ethan could see the chits in their hundreds and thousands come streaming out of the man and attach to Duncan’s hands to be reabsorbed into his own system.

“It is done,” Duncan said, and he stood but continued to look down at the man as if deeply disappointed.

“And now that this earth has broken into the worlds, what will you do about a guardian?”  Ethan wondered out loud.

Duncan looked up.  “I’m sorry.”  He spoke first to Jill.  She nodded as if to say not to worry about it.  It happens.  “I will have to find another,” Duncan said.  “It will be a thousand years yet before there are enough travelers through the worlds to insure the safety of the worlds.”

“Safety in numbers where there will be enough travelers to watch and police each other.”  Ethan got the concept.

Jill nodded.  “And another thousand years after that, we may be able to let go of the guardian program.”  She shrugged, and added some substance to her projection so she could give Duncan a hug as was her way.  Ethan simply shook the man’s hand.

“Lord, Highness.”  Duncan acknowledged Ethan but turned quickly to his Princess.  “It has been difficult at home since you disappeared.”

“I am sure,” Jill said, but she was already withdrawing herself and Ethan.  They did not stay in that world any longer.  “I have confidence in Duncan.  He will do what must be done,” she said, and then she said no more about it.

************************

Next Monday, a return to three posts, (Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday), where Ali Pasha returns home in Guardian Angel-17, The Examiners.   Until then, Happy Reading

.

Guardian Angel-15 Lars Hjorth, part 3 of 3

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Lars and deMartin had their men cease firing and watched as men in strange green uniforms with high collars and big brass buttons began to round up the cyborgs.   They looked to Ethan like the Prussians when they fought against Napoleon.  They touched the cyborgs with a portable vibrator of some sort and then bound them at the wrists.  When it was safe enough, deMartin noticed and later remarked, the ship’s cowardly Captain and First Officer, escorted by several men with weapons at the ready, came to speak to the human defenders.

Lars, meanwhile, had his eyes on the farmhouse, and when he saw Angelica and Kirsten emerge, unhurt, he was greatly relieved.

“I doubt they will be able to understand us.”  The First officer remarked as the foreigners approached the people on the edge of the little woods.

“Nonsense.”  The Captain responded.  “Certain things transcend language.  These people need to be commended for holding their own against impossible odds.  I only hope they aren’t too overawed by the battleship and our sudden appearance.”

“The Cybees didn’t overawe them.”  The First Officer pointed out, but the Captain was not really listening.  Lars and deMartin came to meet them.  Yohanson and Jill’s favorite Sergeant and his ever present two troopers followed.

The Captain immediately smiled and held out his hand.  “Very good show.”  The Captain said as Lars and the Colonel willingly shook that hand.

“Early gunpowder.”  The First Officer made a spot assessment.  “No later than twelfth century, I would guess.  That was something we had not considered in the cyborg design.  Good thing the Vordan did not figure that out.”

“These Cyborgs are yours?”  Lars spoke.

“Ah.  Well said.”  The Captain praised Lars and shook his hand again while he turned to his officer.  “The man speaks the Lord’s tongue.”

“Are these Cyborgs yours?”  Lars repeated the question

“The Cybees?  Yes, I am afraid they are.  Renegades though.”  The First Officer was kind enough to answer the question.

“I am Lars Hjorth.  This is Colonel Orlando deMartin.”

“A military man.”  The Captain spouted and shook deMartin’s hand again.  DeMartin’s translation chit was slowly catching up with the conversation.  Lars, with far more sophisticated chits understood the Captain and his officer from the beginning.  “But, of course, you would have to be.”

The First officer interrupted with the introductions.  “This is Captain Rawlings and I‘m Lieutenant Chin, Naval designation if that means anything to you.”

“Chin?”  DeMartin noted the man’s features.  “Nestorian?”  He asked, and then he wanted to take back the word.  The Man could be anything, being from a different Earth.  Lieutenant Chin shook his head.  He did not understand the reference.

“Well.”  The Captain interrupted that awkward exchange.  “Good thing we came along, eh?  No telling what you would have done if we hadn’t.”

“Called in back-up,” Lars admitted.  “Though I would have felt bad about having to do it.  Keeping this world free of other world pests is my job.  Well, our job.”  Lars looked around at his militia unit.  He felt very proud of the men who fought at his side.  “To be blunt, we were in the process of throwing these Cyborgs out when you came.  I hope your intention is to collect them and leave.”

“Rather cheeky, eh, Chin?”

The Lieutenant nodded.  “That is our intention, and I, for one, apologize for their being here in the first place even if it could not have been helped.”

Lars accepted that.  “You are welcome to visit if you come quietly and without a show of advanced technology.  You can even settle if you wish to live a so-called primitive life.  This world is not yet overcrowded.”  Lars looked at Chin and glanced at the Captain.  “But you cannot bluster in here with airborne battleships.  This world needs a chance to rise or fall on its own merits, and I will not permit any outside interference on that score.”

“Permit?”  The Captain started, but waited when Chin touched his arm.

“You are the Gyan Guardian for this world, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Gaian.”  Lars corrected the man’s pronunciation.  “And yes, newly appointed.”

“That’s three for three.”  The Lieutenant told his Captain who suddenly appeared to take things a bit more seriously.

DeMartin took that moment to try his grasp of the language.  “I was just passing through myself when I thought my friend Lars could use a little help.”

The Captain rubbed his jaw.  “A fellow traveler,” he said.  “There’s a first, but I would not think your people would be sophisticated enough to travel in these parallel dimensions.”

“The worlds,” Lars interjected.

De Martin shook his head.  “Just a passenger, I’m afraid.”  He let his voice rise.  “And one who I hope is not in too much trouble with a certain gracious lady.”

“He’s not,” Jill said and looked up at Ethan.

“Tell me about these Gaian.”  The Lieutenant asked, taking the trouble to pronounce it correctly.

“Yes, what is a Gyan?”  The Captain asked as well.

“Gya was the ancient Goddess of the Earth,” Chin said.

“Mother Earth,” Lars added.

DeMartin shook his head, gravely.  “A wise and mysterious people as far beyond your understanding as you are from us,” he explained.  “They have taken one native from every world and made them guardians to be sure that every world has a chance to pursue its own destiny.  They are a heavenly people, quick to love but fierce to their enemies.”

“There is undoubtedly a guardian on your world, only you don’t even know it,” Lars suggested, and the Captain and Lieutenant Chin both paused in surprise.  They had not considered that possibility.

“And how long have you been traveling in the Worlds?”  DeMartin asked.  Their ignorance about the Gaian had raised his suspicions.

“This is our third world since decoding the Vordan registers.  You see, it is not even our technology.  It is alien, but the cyborgs stole it during the war, and when the war was over, they used it to escape and avoid being dismantled.”

“Why must it always be war?”  Lars asked, grumpily.

“We fought the Vordan to a standstill.”  The Captain’s pride was evident.  “Thanks in large part to the development of the cyborg regiments, but when the war concluded and the peace was signed, some refused to be returned to normal life.  The cyborgs, some anyway, actually considered their monstrosities to be an improvement and refused to give them up.”

“They escaped with the stolen Vordan equipment,” Lieutenant Chin interrupted.  “But their milti-destination codes were captured in the system.  It took us a long time to figure out what happened, but now we are trying to clean up our mess.”

“And we imagined the Vordan were the most brilliant creatures in the galaxy.”  The Captain laughed.  “I can’t imagine these Gaian you speak of.”

“Time to go,” Jill spoke to Ethan.  She tweaked the projector so their images would be dressed in heavenly white, as she called it, even as she said, “Bless deMartin.  I think if we put a little of the fear of God into these people right at the beginning of their journey through the worlds, it may save us considerable trouble somewhere down the road.”

“Don’t laugh.”  Ethan threatened Ali Pasha, Manomar and Peter Alexander.

“Don’t stick your foot in your mouth,” Jill said.  “I’ll be giving our projection some substance and your foot won’t taste very good.”  It was something like an out of body experience.  There was a flash of light and two figures appeared as if out of nowhere.

“Captain Rawlings.  Lieutenant Chin.  How good to meet you,” Jill said ever so sweetly.  “May I present my husband, Ethan.  I am Jillian of the Gaian.”

Even the gregarious Captain did not offer his hand for a shake.  He was too busy staring, as was the Lieutenant, and in fact people all over the field stopped and stared at this vision of purity, almost holiness.  Lars, deMartin and some of deMartin’s men knew better, but they kept quiet.  Angelica, who was just coming close, knew better as well, or thought she did.  Kirsten cried out and came running.

“Oh Jill, he’s gone.  Jill, he’s gone.”  She flew into Jill’s arms and Jill hugged and hushed the girl quietly.  Ethan picked up the slack.

“Colonel deMartin.  It is time for you to take yourself and your men back into the doghouse.”  Ethan tried to look stern.  DeMartin tried equally hard to be humble without laughing.

“Gracious Lord,” he said, affecting a terrific and most chivalrous bow.  “Most kind and gentle Lady.”  He did the same for Jill while Ethan, who was actually still back in the ship, touched the main and a white light shimmering door opened close by.  DeMartin made a show of turning to his troop that had already gathered up the dead and wounded and he marched proudly through that door of utter whiteness to disappear from the world.  When the last one entered, the door vanished.

“Lieutenant.”  Ethan spoke in the meantime.  “Please tell your Captain to close his mouth.  I am afraid he may start attracting flies.”

Jill had just finished reassuring Kirsten that everything would be all right, and just finished returning her to her mother’s hands, when Ethan spoke, and she wanted nothing more than to stomp on Ethan’s foot with all her weight.  Instead, though, she said a last word to Kirsten.  “Your father needs you, too.”  She shooed her off.

“Lars.”  Ethan called him over after the man had a chance to hug his daughter.  He shook Lars’ hand.  “I guess I have to speak for everyone when I say Godspeed.”

“I was thinking I might try to convince the powers that be to make peace with the Anglish before it is too late, that is if my wife will go with me.”

“I think that would be a wonderful idea,” Jill said, and she stepped in to give the man a hug.  “You did well.”

“Er, I think next time I will study the enemy a little more carefully and move a little more cautiously.”

“Wise.  But we will never be far away,” Jill said, and she held out her arms for Angelica who thought for a minute before she accepted the hug.

“Peace is better than war,” she said.  “And I was Anglish once myself.”

With that done, Jill turned to the Captain and his first officer.  “Now gentlemen, we know of the Vordan technological prototype by which you travel.  It is not our way to condone stealing, but since you have let your ill begotten creatures out into the worlds, we will not interfere, provided you collect them and remove them from their many earths.  Yes, we know the worlds to which they have gone, so we will be watching.  After your work is finished, you will not bring a warship into a world whose technology does not equal or better your own.  Am I clear?”

“Godspeed to you too.”  Ethan said, and the projections of Jill and Ethan began to rise from the ground, shrink and glow more brightly until they touched the nickel spot of their ship, and in one final flash of light, their nickel-sized ship vanished from that world altogether.

************************

Monday–only 1 post next week–Monday

Guardian Angel-16 Dealing with the Details:  One quick trip the cyborg world, and only 1 post for the week… Happy Reading…

Guardian Angel-15 Lars Hjorth, part 2 of 3

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

“We know of very few small arms that can penetrate your energy screens, and they are in the hands of five peoples.  You know the Gaian and the Elders, and I would not worry about the other three.  One is verbally supportive of our work to establish guardians, one is in a time of withdrawal where traveling in the worlds has itself become a divisive issue, and the Shinarites are determined to be neutral about everything and claim that they only wish to visit the worlds, peacefully.”

The cyborg Veek stopped firing.  Lars, obviously unaffected, spoke again.  “I order you to get off my world, now.”  He signaled, and the militia came up in battle formation.

“Of course, I would not flaunt it.”  Jill added as an afterthought.

Veek got angry and curious, but not upset at Lars’ survival.  He briefly fingered the gun at his own side, but noted Lars’ stance and he knew the man was a very quick draw.  He clearly decided not to risk possible death, even with his enhanced cyborg speed.  “But don’t you know?”  Veek said calmly as he made his own signal.  “Half the militia is mine already.”  About half, or more accurately, a third of the men came to stand behind Veek.

“Mexican standoff.”  Ethan mumbled.

Peter Alexander interrupted with another question.  “But why have your Elders not intervened.  Surely the cyborgs constitute importing technology.”

“Not at all.”  Jill answered.  “The cyborgs are who they are and what they are, and the Elders have nothing against visitors, or even settlers, no matter how intrusive that may be.  They probably did not bring much in the way of control collars and such, so they are not likely to be worth any attention from the Elders at all.”

The firefight started.  Lars caught Veek with a bullet in the shoulder, but then he had to run with his men and find cover in the woods.  Veek’s men went to ground or ran behind the house and out buildings.  Once safe for the moment, Lars signaled for Yohanson to circle with his men around behind the barn.  Shots continued to be fired from both sides along with an occasional energy beam from one of the cyborgs, but very few people were hit after the opening salvo.

Ethan fiddled with the view screen controls to cause the trees and buildings to take on a shadowy image so they could clearly see the men and their movements.

“Good.”  DeMartin spoke right away.  “He is cutting off any possible escape.”  Then the Colonel excused himself as if needing a trip to the bathroom.

“But how can they close in across those open farm fields.  It looks like a stand-off to me, too.”  Peter Alexander was concerned.

“They need cavalry for a quick charge.”  Ali Pasha suggested, drawing on his limited knowledge of military matters.

“Hand to hand would not be recommended with those things.”  Manomar understood that much.

“Look.”  Peter Alexander pointed, but they all saw it.  Something big was being brought out from the barn.  “Their parallel earth mover?”  Alexander wondered.

“No,” Ethan said.  “Artillery.”  He touched the Main.  There was a quick flash of blue light, and the artillery piece vanished along with the cyborgs toting it.

“Ethan!”  Jill scolded him.

“That weapon might bring the Neanderthal.”  He argued in his own defense.

“Probably not by itself,” Jill responded, and Ethan wondered exactly where the Elders drew that line.  He watched Yohanson and his men expertly turned back from their encircling maneuver, and then he watched the cyborgs as they began to gather for a charge.  Manomar was right.  Hand to hand with that crew was not to be recommended, and with their laser eyes, he had no doubt they could cross the farm field more or less intact.

“Forgive me, Jill.  I love you.”  Ethan kissed her and touched another button.

“What?” Jill moved, but she could not move fast enough to shut the doors, or maybe she did not want to.  DeMartin and his healthy troops came pouring out of two openings that Ethan had rigged in advance to be on either side of the farm.  The tide of battle turned quickly again as deMartin’s World War One vintage rifles began to strike home.  The idea of a cyborg charge was abandoned in favor of staying behind cover.

Jill did not do anything to Ethan except take Ethan’s hand and gently stroke it.  She let her nervousness come out against his skin.  She squeezed a couple of times, once hard when Lars appeared to take a bullet.  Fortunately, his particle screen was strong enough to deflect the projectile.  She squeezed again, almost harder, when Kirsten went down.  Yon Veek hovered over her like a mother hen protecting her chick, but then he took two shots in the back, arched up with a cry and collapsed.

The tide turned again when some ordinary men and women, either cyborgs posing as natives or natives rebuilt with cyborg technology, came out from the town led by the not quite dead Svensen.  They trapped deMartin and Lars between them and the farmhouse, and while the numbers on each side were about the same, Lars and the Colonel were surrounded and forced to answer fire from both directions with only some scant trees for cover.

Jill started a continual squeeze on Ethan’s hand until Ethan had to pull his hand free with an “Ouch.”

“Sorry.”  She went to put her nails in her mouth, but Ethan caught and held her hand to do a little rubbing of his own.

The firefight went on sporadically for the next hour.  Lars’ militia was obviously well trained, and deMartin’s were professional soldiers; but the foreign cyborgs became easy to spot after a while because they were obviously also professional soldiers; and of course, the militia cyborgs had been trained by Lars as surely as his own men.

Veek and his troops were trapped in the barn and farm house.  The cyborgs from town had their own trees across a back farm field from where Lars and the Colonel were trapped.  The only dangerous moment came near the end of the hour when some of the townspeople found a ditch that ran from just off their position right up close to deMartin’s flank.  Fortunately, deMartin’s troops pulled out some hand grenades, and though they did little damage to the cyborgs, they did scare off the townspeople.

By the end of that hour, few men and few cyborgs had been struck with any sort of injury.  The shooting had petered down to occasional sharp shooting.  There did not appear to be an easy way out of their situation unless one side or the other eventually ran out of bullets.  It was then that there came a waffling in the air.  That was how Ethan later described it.

“Incoming.”  Jill pointed to the Main where the vibrations registered.

“Elders?”  Ethan asked.

Jill shook her head.  “Not a recognizable signature, and there is no telling when the Elders come and go.”

“A new group?  Maybe more cyborgs,” Ethan suggested.

“I hope not,” Jill said.  They stilled their conversation to watch.  It was apparently a rough transition into the world and it was some time before a warship solidified about a thousand feet above the battle.  It was a big ship, possibly their version of a battleship, whoever they were, though it was not nearly the size of Ethan and Jill’s fighter-destroyer.

“Class M, one of their main battleships, the history is now available.  They are from the cyborg world, but they are not cyborgs.”

“I could have told you that without reading the history,” Ethan responded and pointed.  He had set a simple barrier around the whole battlefield so the cyborgs within would not be able to escape, and they were presently running, trying as hard as they could to escape.

“How do you know who they are?”  Ali Pasha asked.  “You said they were new which I thought meant they would be unknown to you.”

“This ship’s scanners reached out even before they fully materialized and read everything about them, their specifications, computer information, whatever histories they had aboard, cultural, social information, and so on.”

“And do they know this; that you have read them?”  Ali Pasha asked.

“Certainly not,” Jill responded with some pride, but then she remembered that anything much above horses and swords was equally remarkable to Ali Pasha.  It would take a long time as a guardian before he could begin to distinguish one level of technology from another.

“I take it the Gaian don’t like surprises.”  Peter Alexander spoke up.

“I would guess not,” Ethan responded.  Jill said nothing.  She was poking through the new information.

The battleship landed on the field in front of the house, and barely fit without skimming the trees or crushing an out building or the barn.  It was a well-piloted craft, Ethan noted.  They all watched as a door opened on either side of the ship and men with weapons came pouring out.  There was a pulse of some kind which Lars and deMartin felt in their chests, like a vibration, but it did not otherwise affect them.  The cyborgs, however, at least the ones they could see appeared to fall to the ground, paralyzed.

Guardian Angel-15 Lars Hjorth, part 1 of 3

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

“Are you sure?”  Ethan asked once more.

“He needs to do his job without depending on us,” Jill answered, as she always did.

“Lars.”  Ethan called through the projector without sending his image.  “The senior judge is in his office.  The collar is still present.  Godspeed.”  He closed down the communicator having borrowed Doctor Augustus’ word, and opened the door.

Lars stepped out on to the wooden courthouse floor.  He put his belt and six-shooter in a comfortable position and pulled the gun part of the way up from the holster twice, only to let it fall again into its cradle.  He looked at the door, like he considered knocking; but then he turned and waved to the air and showed a big grin across his face.  He knew the others were watching.  At once, the big man turned his shoulder to the door, and with a roar, he burst into the office.  The senior judge looked up, but only in time to see Lars’ big hand grab his collar.

Lars hauled the man to his feet as the collar began to disintegrate.  “Who gave this to you?”  Lars demanded an answer.  “Who do you work for?”

The Judge appeared to choke, hardly able to speak.  When Lars loosened his grip, the man sank back into his seat and looked as if all of the energy drained from his body.  He shook his head several times while Lars continued to repeat his question.

Jill interrupted the action by speaking to all who were watching from the control room.  “Those collars were made by a people on the verge of breaking into the Worlds.  They were made to interrogate people accused of some crime so those people could either convict themselves or clear themselves.  It was what you might call the ultimate lie-detector.”  She added that last for Ethan before she spoke again to everyone.  “The Sorvee picked them up at one point, and now they are in the hands of a half-dozen groups or more that travel through the Worlds.  They are so common these days, even the Elders pay them no attention.”

“Veek.”  The judge whispered at last in a barely audible voice.  Jill replayed the name so everyone in the control room could hear, even as Lars turned and left the man to his own troubles.  The courthouse guards were in the doorway and for a moment it looked like they might try to block Lars’ way, but they honestly looked uncertain about what to do.

“Lars Veek.”  Ethan mused during that tense moment.  “Wonder what’s up for Next Veek.”

“Hush.”  Jill slapped his hand for old time’s sake.

“Sjoren.”  Lars snapped at one of the men in the doorway.  “Raise the militia on the double.  Hans.”  He turned on the other man.  “Get lieutenants Yohanson and Svensen here.  Move it, soldier!”

Both men snapped to attention and saluted.  “Captain!”  They took off, while Lars went to find the other judges.

“Militia Captain.”  The comment came from Colonel deMartin, and he did not sound surprised.

“I don’t know what he expects to find at the Veek farm, though.”  Peter Alexander voiced his curiosity.

“Probably things he has seen which did not make sense before his guardianship,” Ali Pasha suggested, and the others agreed that that was probably it.

“What’s up, Lars, er, Captain?”  A younger man, almost as big as Lars came bounding into the room.  A smaller man who was more Lars’ age followed, but he walked more slowly as if to suggest that whatever was up did not concern him.

“Trouble at the Veek farm,” Lars said.  “And my drinking buddy, Bjorn, the Recording Judge is missing.”

“Trouble?”  The big young man asked.

“Treason, Yohanson,” Lars said and put his hand reassuringly on the young man’s shoulder before he paused.  He took a whiff of air, let his nose draw in the smell, like a Nelkorian, and he slapped the smaller man, Svensen and sent him sprawling across the floor.

“What did you do that for?”  Yohanson looked shocked by Lars’ sudden violence, but then Svensen hardly looked dazed apart from a small drop of blood on his lip.  He had a look in his eye which suggested he was going to kill Lars, but Lars had already pulled a weapon from an inside pocket of his jacket.  He fired.

“Why that sneak!”  Ethan said with a smile.

Half of Svensen’s face melted to reveal a skull of metal.  One arm and one leg from the thigh down were also metal, finely made, and apparently impervious to pulse microwave weapons.  The microwave also did not affect the man’s natural flesh—the parts that remained metal free.  Probably a screen strong enough to repel the microwaves.  Svensen was a cyborg of some kind, and the microwave weapon was not strong enough or sophisticated enough to do any real damage.

“I told Veek it was too risky letting a humanoid command the militia.”  Svensen said.  He looked ready to leap, but Lars was too quick on the draw and three bullets sent Svensen clattering back against the wall.  Maybe the cyborg had screens against energy weapons, but they were not impervious to old-fashioned bullets.  There were a few sparks in Svensen’s arm and from the metallic side of his head, and at least one bullet appeared to hit around the heart.  Svensen passed out and if he was still alive, it looked like he might not live long.

“What kind of creature is this?”  Yohanson sounded like a choirboy whose voice had not yet changed.  “And where is Svensen?”

Lars pointed at the man crumpled against the wall.  “That is Svensen.  He has been fooling us all along.”

“Veek?”  Yohanson put his thoughts together.  Lars nodded.

“And who knows how many others, but now we know that bullets can take them out.”

“But Captain—” Lars hushed the younger man and led him outside where the motley group of militiamen were hastily forming ranks.

###

“Lars Hjorth!”  Veek shouted from his doorway as Lars approached.  Veek took about twenty steps out to meet Lars, but stopped about ten feet away.

“Lars Veek.”  Lars returned the name with the addition, “Or whatever your real name is.”  He watched as Bjorn the judge, his sickly green collar still intact, came out holding Angelica by the elbow.  Yon Veek had Kirsten in his grip, though he did not look to be hurting her and she did not appear to be struggling.

“The whole militia.”  Veek noticed and smiled.  “You boys on maneuvers.  Can’t be too ready for the Anglish.”

“Cut it, cyborg,” Lars said.

Veek’s eyes widened a little.  “So, you know a little something.  I would not have expected anyone in this world would even know the concept.”  He spoke with a bit of a sly grin.  “But why should we be enemies?”  Lars made no response, so Veek continued.  “With our help, it will be an easy thing to overcome the Anglish.  The Dutch in New Amsterdam and the other small outposts down to the Venetians in Florida pose no threat.  The Danish in Vineland are few, it being a cold and harsh country.  Why, in not many years, New Sweden could control the whole continent, and our children could rule like Kings and Queens of old.”  He pointed back at Yon and Kirsten.  “Consider what is best for your daughter, friend Hjorth.  With our help, we can soon turn this primitive world into a futuristic wonder.”

Jill grabbed Ethan’s arm.  This was a delicate moment.  Temptation could be hard to resist.

Lars shook his head.  “I have seen what future wars can do to destroy the whole world.  That might also be called a futuristic wonder.  I believe the time to live in peace is now, before it is too late.”

“And the children?”

“The children will have grandchildren in peace and security.  You will take your cyborgs and leave my Earth.  You have unlawfully intruded into my world, and I have seen what our primitive bullets can do, so I suggest you leave while you can.”

“Lars.”  The man sounded disappointed.  “And I really liked you.  I was looking forward to having you as an in-law.”

“Get your metal armpits off my world.”  Lars responded sharply.  He always knew there was something he did not like about the man, and now he knew what it was.  “In my world we will rise or fall on our own merit, and that is that.”

“Your world?”  Veek grew angry.  “I would say it is my world.”  There was a sudden burst of energy from one of Veek’s eyes, and it struck Lars dead center.  Jill interrupted while the others had their eyes glued to the screen and they heard Angelica and Kirsten cry out, “Lars!” and “Papa!”