The crowd in the square outside of the Temple of Allor watched the final descent into the square. They initially cheered because they believed it to be Allor. Trill thought they were glad to see him. They weren’t, and by the time they had landed, many had gone from welcoming to fearful.
“Good people of Earth 7,” said Professor Trill, using his comms bracelet to make his voice cast far across the crowd. “I bring you greetings from the stars,” he said, and pointed into the sky.
Trill and the rest of the landing team all stood in the center of the square with about two maatars between them and the crowd.
An old man pushed his way through the crowd.
“I don’t give a damned where you come from, I need you to fix my ass. It hurts really bad when I shit,” said the old man. “I can’t sit down for a hundred tox after. It was like when my oldest son was born. My wife had this for twenty or so revs. I’ve had this for hundreds. It makes me not want to live knowing that every morning I will spend a long time in pain before I can have the rest of my day.”
“I’m not here to fix your problems,” replied Trill. Then he stopped for a moment then started laughing. “Actually, I am, but not your ass problems, old man.”
“Then why should I worship you?”
“You shouldn’t. But you should listen to our suggestions on many things. We know much that can help you.”
“Professor Trill,” said Wingut. “I brought a remedium with me.”
“Oh, great,” said Trill with exasperation. Then, after a few seconds, remembering he was in command, he added, “Well, go ahead, then” which just served as a confirmation of what Wingut had already started getting ready to do.
“Sir, if you would please pull your pants down,” said Wingut. “And turn a little,” he added, and touched the man’s hips to put him in position.
“Sir, if you would bend over please,” said Wingut. And the old man did. His ass was aimed directly in the line of sight of Professor Trill. If the old man suddenly got explosive diarrhea, Professor Trill would have been the main beneficiary, assuming preference.
“For hydrogen’s sake,” Trill yelled at Wingut. “You insolent bastard.” And this too was broadcast to the entire square.
“Oh, I feel it working. I feel it. It’s wonderful. I feel it,” yelled the old man with glee.
Wingut was smiling on the inside. When he finished fixing the old man’s hemorrhoids, an old woman walking with a cane hobbled forward.
“This is what that bastard Allor does,” said Trill. “Smug little bastard heals them and they worship him for it. Then he murders everyone in the capital city of a rival. Can’t wait to finally meet this asshole.”
The crowd started jeering at this affront to their god at his own temple. All of the landing team checked the setting of the PPSs, just in case.
“You might not have to wait long,” said Indira, and pointed into the sky at the two golden bubbles descending towards the temple. They entered via the balcony over the cliffs down to the river. It was a balcony where a succession problem had been sorted out for the earlier cult that constructed the temple. Loser bodies were left on the rocks far below as food for the vultures.
“Let’s go,” said Trill. And he bumped his PPS shield against Wingut’s shield for a moment then maintained the proper distance. Then he remembered he was the leader and moved quickly in front of the landing party.
They moved up the stairs and into the main temple. Many inside of the temple fled as they approached. Those that didn’t make it out were huddled in one of the corners, a couple of the children at the front of the crowd making threatening motions with their fists.
The curtains at the left side of the temple were pulled apart. Ova held them open as Allor walked through them holding a shiny metal cylinder over his head.
“I bring you stalemate, my new friends,” he said.
“What is that?” Trill looked at Wingut.
“The drive from a long-distance FTL freighter,” Wingut replied.
“So what? He’s missing the rest of the ship,” answered Trill.
“He is threatening to use it as a weapon,” said Eflin.
“Smart move,” said Indira. “We can’t get away fast enough.”
“Well done, young man. I’ve followed your career. Not as much as I should have. But I know your highlights.”
“Then you know about Pyramos,” said Allor, looking at Professor Trill.
“I know you are a mass murderer. One that kills a crowd and then heals the sick child. Yes, I know you as the contradiction that you are.”
“Earth 5, the Truman Decision. Lowest possible body count,” replied Allor.
“Oh my,” said Trill. “What have you been doing inside that lightweight brain of yours? Have you been filling it with things you shouldn’t know?”
“Excuse me,” said Wingut. “But perhaps your example doesn’t quite work for you. You have knowledge of the propaganda disseminated at the time. But it might not be true. I’ve never looked at it in depth. There are many better examples than the history of a planet in quarantine. But they had a few revolutions I am very familiar with. There is a new book coming out by Professors Ignor and Sleep about the Truman Decision. I’ve heard it is riveting, a real screen turner. And it’s less than a quarter of a million words long. Concise by historian standards.”
“Can we perhaps return to the problem at hand?” said Trill, rolling his eyes.
“It’s simple. You leave or you die,” replied Allor. He drummed his fingers on the cylinder and looked at the numeric display.
“But we don’t want to leave,” said Trill. “We have many things to offer you. Things far greater than a simple remedium. What does that get you?”
“Healthy people,” replied Ova.
“Oh, yes, that’s right. You two got married or something like that recently. Sorry I missed the ceremony. I glanced at the recording on the way over.”
“We won’t give the technology back,” said Allor.
“Yes you will. You just won’t know that you did,” said Trill with a laugh.
“You will die first,” replied Allor.
“Will you please stop it with the kill everyone threats. It’s simple. We want to put an embassy on Earth 7 and have one of our representatives here to help you make progress. We don’t want to take the tech back yet. So go ahead and use it all you want. We’re here to help you.”
“How do I know I can trust you? Are you a historian?” asked Ova.
“No, I am not.”
“Pity,” replied Ova.
“And what do you want in return?” asked Allor.
“The historian and a writer named…what’s his name again? Tip?”
“Ip.”
“That’s right, Ip,” replied Trill.
“Never heard of him,” replied Allor.
“Apparently he’s something very special out in the stars. Boy, is he in for a surprise,” replied Trill.
Just then, the curtains parted again. This time Pens came in wearing his purple robe. He took a couple of steps into the temple then dramatically pulled his cloak back from his robe.
“And who is this idiot?” asked Trill.
“I am Pens, High Priest of the Cult of Allor,” said Pens with his most alpha stance possible for a secretly effeminate man.
Trill looked at Wingut, then Allor. Wingut shrugged, Allor stared back with a wild look in his eyes. Then Trill made the connection.
“Wait a minute, you’re Pens, the one that had his mother murdered, what was her name?” Trill said.
Then came the loudest human voice any of them had ever heard.
“TAL. HER NAME WAS TAL,” roared Allor as he drew his sword.