Troyuan Chronicles...Book 4

THE  TROYUAN  CHRONICLES…BOOK  FOUR

By Ernest Velon

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Copyright c 2008 by Ernest Velon

Discover other titles by Ernest Velon at www.smashwords.com

Revised by the Author on 8/2017

CONTENTS

FOREWORD

THE CESSPOOL AFFAIR

THE GLORY AFFAIR

THE WITCH AFFAIR

THE ANTIQUITIES AFFAIR

THE KARACTIKAS AFFAIR

About the Author

FOREWORD

Fall down you worthless sinners, fall down and be covered by the wrecked ruins about!

The Fellow’s annoying religious chanting and shouts disturbed our time-honored work.

Fall low and see your salvation, because in these dark and dismal times only the stones cry out of wonders past.  Fall down and bury your idleness.  Fall down and cover your laziness.   Fall down and undo your selfish ignorance.  Fall down on your knees, interring your worthless sinful values and crimes, hear my words of the ancients so all the world will start anew!

As the Wife and I carefully sifted into the secrets of our past, the Fanatic’s last words echoed in our minds.  He had forced-led his bundle of lonely followers to these cherished mounds of Amazia’s forgotten eons.  His scratchy voice bounced off the broken pediments, his sarcastic words leaped between the fallen arches, his condemnation of past follies filled the vacant places where once monumental vaulting covered the sky.  Now, this idealistic wretch of a Preacher wanders the colossal ruins of the Capitol searching for the things we are slowly revealing.

As we watched from a great mound of rising columns and debris, we felt a strange kin to that pathetic figure.  He to searches for something lost.  He to look’s for that elusive ‘thing’ which legends and myths are made of.  He to in earnest, smashing and gnashing of the tongue and teeth, hoping some forgotten deity will hear, and make revelation an easy sight.  But the Wife and I know from our experiences, such things you must work and sweat for.  Revelation into the mysteries of the past is wrought by work, hard and steady.  Sometimes you may fall back, but hard work creates progress, and that always goes forward.  This is the key to unlocking the wisdom from the vaults below.

This our Preacher friend will never know.  He is to busy listening to himself talk, reveling in the delight of his own words, enjoying the ego of leading those awash in reality, than the resolve of reading and learning.  And so, we ignore him turning back the pages of long lost history, restoring the truths and bringing to light the exploits of Alack Troyus.

Ernest Velon

Larentia  05/22/9819 U.C.

THE  CESSPOOL  AFFAIR

By Ernest Velon

It is the direct wish of this person to foster the free spirit of investments, of enterprise and to seek further job opportunities for the greater prosperity of Var-lin-dra!  I quote the great Amazian financier J. Wackon, ‘you create wealth in society by volume, not by giving to a few at the top.’  Expanding forever in revenue and power of the Regent, and enhancing the glory of our Emperor. thundered Senator Gotocus as he stood before a group of three chief economic Inquisitors representing the Regent of Xeronton.  And it is with a deep commitment that you vote in favor of funding the gains to be had in this field of research.  Such funding will expand the job base, creating a key industry that will further fuel the Imperium’s driving economy into the coming centuries!

He still commands a degree of respect and much wind, commented T.A. sitting in the visitor's gallery of the chamber.  I remember when he was a terror on the floor of the Senitium.

What happened? asked Alack Troyus with a mouth full of cookies from the cafeteria.

It’s called aging…slowing down.  The older you get the less flexibility you have.  Something you’ll never have to worry about.  T.A.’s steel gray eyes shot over at the flock of black to brownish long hair, parted in the middle and hanging down to the collar, where it curled up.  Alack’s big brown eyes ignored the Old Man’s glare as his cheeks bulged from the sweet tasting cookies.  Your not suppose to eat in here.

Why?  I live to eat.  I’m starving.

We just ate an hour ago.  T.A. took the half filled bag away from his long fingers.  Pay attention to this inquiry, it’ll be your next assignment.

Alack suddenly stopped and swallowed.  I don’t trust people who talk fast and say nothing.  His handsome features, between the chiseled face of a man and the boyish fat of a teenager, shot a glance at his superior and mentor.  You never said anything about that?  I thought this was just a get together, one of those father and son things.

Please, don’t be insulting.  T.A.’s lined face, tired and almost haggard in appearance, returned the look, well…maybe a little of both.  Pay attention, the Chief Inquisitor is about to speak.

Thank you Senator Gotocus.  Executar Barrell, would you like to enlighten us on your proposal?

Thank you, Sir.  As you have read, my corporate proposal… the middle-aged humanoid, with web ears, a round face with a mouth of no teeth, took the floor in his business suit and upper body blue sarong of his home world with wavy symbols.  As he began a multi-facet holographic image appeared in front of the Inquisitor’s bench.  My attorney has already briefed you on the particulars of the research grant.  With the proper funding, I intend to lease these buildings in the Monrose section of Magnanar City.  A vast metropolis focused, half a Sectal high buildings with Silorians and layers of air vehicles moving slowly amongst the gigantic structures.  The image moved to a less-office, more industrial rundown area.  A red outline appeared designating several blocks of abandoned structures.  The old garment manufacturing sight of Sallonka and Foruat, Block numbers I-26, 27 and 28, will be made anew.  The red line suddenly jumped into clean white blocks with an upper story of glass and greenish reflecting spirals.  Behold Gentlemen, my dream…the Barrell Retronic Center, which will grace Magnanar City and add some forty thousand jobs, plus over eight million Retallites of estimated tax revenues from direct and indirect sources.

I don’t understand, Sir? began Alack inverting his heavy dark brown eyebrows.  We are Special Services, what does this standard civilian stuff has to do with us?

T.A. dug into the bag of cookies and began munching away, these are good...

Your not suppose to be eating in here, Sir.

We are here to know the basics of this proposal.  You see my cookie-gulping fiend, that fellow Barrell from Allopus III has no intention of building those factories or further developing the lesser-known science of Retronics.  He and his fellow shysters intend on taking what they give him and running away.  A Service Guard, in the navy blue uniform and red trim, started to move towards them from T.A.’s side.  The Old Man suddenly pushed the bag of half eaten cookies into Alack’s big hands.  The Policeman stopped and glared down at them both.  They belong to him.  Pointed T.A., chuckling.

Alack and T.A. crossed the ground Silorian over a walkway from the Regional Capital complex of Varlindra, the prime trading world of the Wezen globular cluster.  Fifty thousand light years below the giant Ky globular nebula (M2) in the Third Forsex and eighty thousand lights above the Olray Subsystem (Magellanic Cloud, Outer Arm), Varlindra is a key point in the entire area.  Alack began to unfasten the tight collar of his suit, he did not like their styles and slick look of tight fitting clothes.  Why didn’t you show him your credentials?  He was very insulting the way he treated us.  You’re the Director General of Special Services.

T.A. took the lead, heading up a ramp to the Service Guard Praetorium, as traffic and people of various races crowded about going their various ways.  What happened to your humble lectures on pulling rank and privileges?  Spinaza once said, ‘wisdom is knowing you are not important.’  The man was only doing his job.

Well…I…I…  Alack started to notice the hurrying people passing on both sides.

If I had it would only cause embarrassment and confusion.  Not many people know my pretty face, but your face, that’s a different story.  T.A. suddenly caught Alack’s eye movement, catching a glimmer of concern watching the pedestrians.  What’s wrong?

We are followed, Sir.  Men in black dress, two flanking behind us at fifty Illos, another ahead at one hundred Illos, they move as we, and stop when we stop.  Alack unbuttoned his long cumbersome jacket with the hanging sashes.

Oh, those are ICA agents, just a friendly escort to the Praetorium.

Escort?  Alack came in closer to him, we have our own men for your safety, and I’m with you.

That’s what I’m afraid of.  Besides, this is their territory.  If I brought in my own security, or the SSG, they would be insulted.  Varlindra is a border world, trade center and a commerce clearing house for the Veonians, and who knows what deals they have with other foreign powers?

The best of men fear nothing, but the ICA will know, Sir.

And that’s why they are here for protection.

A Fellow in a long black tunic, black pants with a shimmer, black vest with the Anvil and flaming Sword enclosed in a hexagon, stopped ahead, prevented a few bystanders from entering and pulled open the door to the Praetorium.  His plain humanoid features gave T.A. Elanus a slight nod of respect.  The other two are now behind, both men making a smug grin.

T.A. and Alack are escorted into Service Captain Saylamiee’s plush office on the eighth floor.  As they gave the Valentian Salute the sidewall slowly began to fold away opening a view to another office.  Two of the three previous men in black stood at ease in the military fashion, legs parted, hands behind back and face straight and proud.  Another fellow, in full black SSG uniform with gold trim, a pudgy scarred face sprouting inter-cranial optics greeted them with a smile.  Welcome to Varlindra.  Hail Civeron.

Hail Civeron.

May his glory shine forever.

I hate when you do that… commented the shallow features of Saylamiee, my counter part in organized corruption, Marshal Earkics of the Veonian Sector.

Director General Elanus, your fame has preceded you, I’m honored.  The fat broken face gave a polite bow, clicking his back heels in the Veonian custom of greeting.  My other half, Service Captain Saylamiee of Varlindra.  We work together so closely our offices adjourn.  Come, be seated.

And this is Agent Alack Troyus.  Both gave the tall handsome Youth a quick nod.  My counter part in the field and in the kitchen.

Both men began to nod again displaying teeth and membranes to the seated guests.

We have heard of this Agent...  Added Earkics, falling into the plush armchair as it rose from the floor, and will be exciting for him to work with our men.  On that cue, one of the three who followed stepped into the room glaring down at Alack.

It has been decided between us, Saylamiee gestured approving the situation, Agent Troyus will be working with Marshal Scuplon of the ICA.  This ‘Affair’ spills over into their area as much as into ours.

Precisely.  We know for a fact Agent Troyus works alone but in this situation it is necessary to have Scuplon.  There are, how can we say, ‘delicate facets’ of the international spy operations.  We don’t want any altercations to arise from ignorance of territory and methods used in the field.  Earkics never removed his smug smile while studying Alack.

That is why we insisted on your direct contact, Director General.  There are ‘affairs’ in motion on both sides of the fence we can’t afford to lose at this time.  Saylamiee gave T.A. a nod, hoping he would understand.

Look at it from this prospective.  We three represent the most efficient form of law enforcement the Emperor has, all in this single room, together as one.  Earkics three fingers of both hands came together in a funny little fist.

Well...  T.A. shoved his thumbs into his belt, I can truthfully say we have a common ground connected to that Man on Amazia.  I’ve been around for a long time and this, Gentlemen is a first for me.  In the beginning was the Achard Police, then the SSG split by Dwitinton the Magnificent into the Special Services, and finally Civeron, may his glory be eternal, took my best agents and created the Imperial Control Army to deal with foreign intrigues, and here I sit.  I feel I’ve come full circle in sixty years of service to the Imperium.  T.A. looked at Alack, and now I must turn my best agent loose on the barbarians who whish to harm us, Arathon help them.

Both men stretched their faces in a grin, false but they felt humoring T.A. is the best of diplomacy.

Saylamiee removed a red pouch from his uniform’s inner pocket and handed it to Alack Troyus.  This is our data on your assignment, Colonel Troyus.

T.A. took a purple pouch and tossed it at Alack saying nothing.

Earkics snapped his fingers and one of his Aides handed Agent Troyus a black pouch.

The Economic Inquisitor’s briefings with Barrell Synoptic Corporation, began T.A. adjusting his delicate frame in the chair.  Is the key to this ‘Affair’.  He and his attorney, represent a hidden faction that sets up false proposals, collects the government’s funds, and runs away over the border.  T.A. looked at Saylamiee nodding.

They’ve managed to squeeze out a few deals with other Regent’s development groups, small time stuff that escrow insurance covered, but now they’re after the big money.  I guess they wanted to see if they can get away with the small stuff first.  Saylamiee pointed to Earkics as if he’s ready to go out on the stage.

Agent Sculpon has done some preliminary work on this group and discovered ties with a host of nefarious rated organizations.  Barrell is a cover name for Kavios Dimenia, the chief ‘rain maker’ for numerous satellite groups connected to some of the top spy agencies in this area.  Dimenia and his colleagues supply funds to independent espionage groups.  Unofficially, the big ones, like the Altairian Halidom, the Veonian Maasia, which has direct ties with the AAS, the Shura-Taki Society, a splintered Veonian group that targets only innocent soldiers, and others of almost equal notoriety.  If we can turn off Dimenia’s fund raising machine it would cause severe problems for the big clients.  We estimate a Chaos Factor of forty percent.

Chaos Factor? mumbled Alack palming all three pouches.

A term the ICA uses to gauge the effect of its efforts to destroy competition and maintain the status quo along the borders, and beyond.  Saylamiee gave Earkics another nod.

It’s a constant battle, Gentlemen.  Who can top whom, who can get there first, and who can watch what?  The end result, if anything goes right or wrong, deny everything, and always watch your back.  Earkics glanced up at Sculpon, did I forget anything?

Trust no one, Sir.

Yes, of course, that’s a standard ploy in this game.  Earkics placed his three fingers, with rings and implants for interfacing with photonic processors, on Alack’s broad shoulder.  What we require of your man is a surveillance of the prime suspect, while Agent Sculpon gains Dimenia’s trust acting as an Inquisitor from the Regent’s government with a private agenda.

Shouldn’t we do this in reverse?  Questioned T.A. squinting

Have Troyus be the bait and Sculpon the net?

Yes.  Their files might recognize Sculpon.  He’s operated in this area under numerous disguises, but Colonel Troyus, not so much.  Gentlemen…  T.A. cleared his throat, we have a cover organization called S P & P Imports, Colonel Troyus uses many times for his front.  As far as we know, no one knows who he really is, only a quality control expert.  Now, the science of Retronics deals with the cloning of various rods and cones in the eye, humanoid and alien, correct? both nodded ‘yes’.  Then let’s have S P & P Imports get into the Retronic business.  Colonel Troyus’s data file is well known and proven factual as a sales representative with the commercial markets.  T.A. made a gentle snort seeing if they are still listening.  Satisfied, he continued in a lower tone.  We’ve even allowed some informal data leak out he’s assisted the SSG in a few minor affairs.  It adds creditability to a data slate that would be otherwise, too squeaky clean.

Earkics frowned, the scars bending as he turned around the idea in his head, could work…we haven’t set up the frame work yet, but it sounds good.  By Civeron’s Glory, it sounds very good!  You have a problem with this, Sculpon?

No Sir.  I prefer the new scenario.

I think we have a tri-parte’ alliance here, Saylamiee removed a palm controller and ordered a Kelvinator (robotic servant) to bring in a round of drinks.  I would think this calls for a toast.

After another hour of congenial talk T.A. pulled Alack away from the pastries and finger food buffet.  Alack felt the Old Man’s strong fingers digging into the lose fabric of his iron bicep beneath.  He knew immediately its importance and followed his adopted father to a secluded part of the Service Captain’s office.

I just want to say before I go back to the Capital, be careful out here when dealing with these guys.  The ICA maybe connected to us the way we are with the SSG but I don’t trust them.  Alack’s heavy eyebrows curled with his frown half hidden under the parted hair.  I’ve had problems in the past with my agents and theirs.  When Civeron created the ICA in 2041 they took my agents who had the worst records, thinking these men and women will take the most chances to get the job done for advancement.  I don’t believe in that.  What I’m saying, Alack m’boy, obey and do your job, but go hard with them.  Don’t allow them to maneuver you into things that don’t pertain to the Affair, okay?

Alack swallowed, silent and comprehending, one useful man is worth more than a hundred lazy men, Sir.

Sit with your back to the wall…and besides, their budget is three times mine, they can pay for your antics, so give them a hard time.  Be firm and most of all, be honest, be yourself.

And before Alack could say a goodbye, T.A. Elanus turned and walked away.

A moment of deep inner contemplation settled in his stomach like a lead ball.

It is Agent Sculpon who poked Alack in the back with his finger in a playful manner.  So, Troyus, you’ll be running with the big boys now, time to acclimate your kind to our ways.

Another Agent, in a playful manner, started to jab and probe with his fingers into Alack’s clothes.  He’s very solid.  I think we have a winner here.

What’s his brain like…?

The other reached up to touch Alack’s flock of immaculate styled long hair when two big hands seized both Agents fingers.  With lightning reflexes Alack twisted their curious digits forcing them to back off in a painful manner.

He’s a live wire…  Sculpon’s Friend wiggled both hands to get circulation back, that hurts buddy!

I don’t like to be touched, Gentlemen. squinted Alack.

Those eyes, I’m shaking all over.  The other continued to open and close his fingers.

Nice move Troyus, where did you learn to do that?

It’s an old Seminian trick used in mating rituals.  Alack curled the ends of his mouth up.

I guess we can’t do what we normally would do, ah Skul?

We’re going to nursemaid this one.  Sculpon extended his hand in a friendly manner, Skulman Sculpon, and this is my protégée Marvs Gy Demos from Section R Intelligence.  As Alack released Sculpon’s hand he took Demos’s palm.  Sculpon seized Alack’s free hand trying to twist it in such a way to knock the Youth off balance.  Alack felt the sudden move, continued to smile at Demos, and twisted his free arm curling in a painful jerk.  Sculpon gritted his teeth, an effort to hide the inner nerve of pain, and released his hold stepping back a pace.  Well, that was entertaining, wasn’t it Gy?

Studying his partner Demos also stepped back.  This proves Seminian mating rituals are very physical, fingers and wrist stuff.  He blinked up at Alack.  What about the blade?

It’s not what you think, Gentlemen.  Those moves are to control a female who is not willing, but not to hurt her…to much…or if the act turns…violent, on her part…

Both men, humanoid, a good twenty-four Illos (a foot) shorter than Alack, with slick dark gray to black hair in streaks, heavy upper bodies under their shimmering inky suit poncho combos, grinned at Alack with green vigorous eyes and crafty manly faces.  We don’t know much about the Seminians, but you’re most welcome.

Yeah, like Skul said.  Nodded Demos with a bobbing head, most welcome.

Where you holding up?

The guest rooms of the Praetorium?

Wrong.  Demos beckoned Alack forward, towards Earkic’s part of the double partitioned room, with a bending index finger.  Despite what you did, it still works.

You’re staying with us at the Club House, added Sculpon going to push Alack but had second thoughts, we all stay there, and you’ll like it a lot.

Preliminary tomorrow morning sharp. shouted Earkics to the retreating three.

Remember, he’s our guest. concluded Saylamiee.

Alack turned, gave a bland expression, giving the Captain the Valentian Salute, and followed the two off into lands unknown.

They took him on a quick tour of the ICA facility.  This add-on to the SSG Praetorium is mostly beneath the surface.  Only the visitor part, for false façade and political purposes is above ground.  A good half Sectal down (under two thousand feet) the heart of the Olray Office lies.  This ICA division extends into the first three Regents of the Forth, the first five Regents of the Third and the first three Regents in the Second Forsex extending from the southern arm of the Fylight Galaxy (Milky-Way, Outer Arm, Perseus Arm).  Their jurisdiction covers the perimeter of the Olray Subsystem (Large Magellanic Cloud), in a half circle including some of the most powerful and naughty foreign powers.  Estimated at an area of over six million cubed light years, the Olray Office is the most prestigious to be assigned to.

We have A1 Operatives as far as Veonia, Clayon, Toltoria, the Borite Confed., Urania, Gammeria and into Unapiteria.  Explained a Fellow to Alack in the Regional Chart Office of Digital Forensics, displaying a shifting holographic image, The Capital system along the Zymach-Trans Deria border belongs to the main office on Amazia (The Orion Spur), below that is our territory.  The entire Centuria Connection is ours, the Mimosa-Gacrux Hegemony is ours, the Antari Dictatorship, the Cetus Kingdom and affiliates, plus the Zubenel Sickness…has that ever been resolved?

Ask me to be invited to the Amazitine first. replied Sculpon.  The Zubenel Sickness is reduced to a low level priority.  Our agents turned their own leaders against themselves resulting in street assassinations and family feuds, sons against fathers, uncles against nephews, that sort of thing.  Even the females got into the killing act.

It’s been contained. answered Demos looking up at Alack’s frown.

That’s what you guys all say.  The Levika Confederation is with us again after we took out the Kivatus Villacus, their now pro Amazian.  Anyway, that’s only a small picture of a larger beast.  The Fellow looked away from Alack to Sculpon, an expression of ‘am I done now?’

After numerous other departments, and three hours later, Alack is tired, his head aches and he is terribly hungry.  Insisting on a quick meal he introduced them to his horrendous appetite.

Now I’ve seen everything, mumbled Demos avoiding the small stack of plastic plates in front of the Seminian.  And they say in his bio he doesn’t get fat.

That’s what I read to.  Sculpon studied the handsome face with eyes closed, a contented, almost angelic look.  Get me a file on the Seminian race, this looks serious.

Very serious.

How serious is…serious?  Alack returned from his digestion mode.  I live to eat.

You’re not normal. snapped Demos forcing himself to count the plates.

I’m Seminian.  You’ll see later the price I pay for being like this.

Speaking of prices, who’s paying?

Alack removed his ID card and slipped it in the payment slot on the table.

I was joking!  Alack frowned at him, getting annoyed.  The Agency pays.

I think we’re going to have a fun time with this one.  Sculpon gave Demos a smug look.  We’ve got to introduce him to the ‘G’ Section.

Right!  The ‘G’ Section.

Alack exhaled forcing himself to ask.

G stands for girl.  Unlike the SSG or your agency, the ICA is segregated, male and female operate in different offices.

Why?

It’s always been policy.  Demos looked away again, can’t believe you don’t get fat.

Those who have a hormone imbalance, or the Transvaal Races… added Alack, changing the subject, getting away from his freakish metabolism.  Usually separate the genders…

We don’t have those here. snapped Demos.

I think he’s talking about the Psychic Division under Famloy.

Oh…that’s different.  That’s classified.

Afterwards, they took an underground tram to a secluded hotel, which is part of a mountain hidden away on private land from the eyes of the curious.  The room, with a patio, covered by a rocky overhang with trees fronting, is comfortable.  With three small rooms and a large inner parlor, Alack dropped his heavy valise in the center on the thick rug.  Both Sculpon and Demos followed him around as he checked out the small bedroom, felt the bed and commented it is too soft.  Then to the bathroom shower facility, the closet and back to the parlor, he began to re-arrange the modern furniture.  When done, Alack took a seat staring at both men.

I think he wants us to leave.

We need to see what you have in there?  Sculpon eyed the big gray valise.  In house scanners can’t penetrate that.

With a loud exhale Alack left his seat and began unlocking the various straps and Velcro seams.  I’m not a slave to convenience.  He removed his clothes, carefully laying them out on the sofa, then to the hidden compartments for his equipment.

What’s that?  Demos pointed to the simple white tube of ivory material.

This is the Seminian Flafstaf…  Alack twisted and it telescoped into two long staffs, one end is blunted, the other curved with a groove.  This is a weapon.  He connected both ends and swung it around his upper body, over the back, and above his head.

Seminians fight like cheerleaders.  Demos laughed until Alack released the gleaming sharp halberd blade from the grooved end and waved it in his startled face.

Saying nothing, Alack retracted his weapon back into the simple looking tube.  He then removed his throwing stars, various daggers, his utility belt, his Calcomp and other items used for demolition and investigation work in the field.  When done, Alack displayed all the open compartments and hidden slots.  Are you satisfied?

Sculpon opened his Anti-D pistol case with its compartments for supplies.  You’re still using the Higgon’s II?

That’s not a Higgon’s, added Demos carefully examining it, he’s modified it.

Explain this?  You tamper with Imperial Ordinance?

Alack took the weapon from Sculpon and began to wipe the finger smudges from the gleaming bluish crimson metal.  Yes, to your questions.  We can change our weapons if we please to suit our specific needs.  Alack packed it away.

This is an antique!  Alack grabbed his Calcomp from Demos’s hand, we use the wrist and finger processor.

Our bio-implants make us very sophisticated.  In our jobs we can’t have bulky devices weighing us down or hindering our movements.

Implants, Gentlemen, are costly and have proven unreliable, and I don’t like the new compact models.  Implants can malfunction due to salts in different biology.  Bio-energy and saline static can short-circuit them.  In a combat situation they are easily damaged by heightened adrenaline levels, and in certain lighter atmospherics will cease to operate.  As for my bulky Calcomp, this I can toss about, use in water, low atmospherics and hostile environments.  It’s designed within a shock absorbent liquid and is shielded from all EMC emissions, plus backup pressurizers allows it to operate in a Class D environment.  Those devices you have implanted are not good for long term hazardous field work.

Our implants are coated with Paraline.

"Paraline has been known to break