The Preacher Man

It was wonderful to get out into the countryside again. All members of the Guard fully participate in the training, no exceptions, and I decided that that principle of inclusion should include me. I think most the rank and file were shocked by the concept of a Ruling Royal being their training partner, but of course had enough discipline not to show it. My perspective was the rigors of Anqara and my dedication to physical training would let me fit in. I was wrong.

The first four of the six sessions were team-building exercises, in some of the most challenging and beautiful environments on the globe. Deep northern forest, beautiful in the summer, then desert, then tropical jungle, then the high mountains of ancient Peru. I held my own, my scores about mid-range with the troops. But the numbers hid a profound truth. I didn't have the discipline of these troops to drive my body to exhaustion. I was scoring mid-range perhaps through a superior body, but I just didn't have the fanatic discipline that the Guard demanded to advance any further.

The fifth of the six rotations would be in a vast abandoned coal mine in Antarctica. The Hydrocarbon Mining Guild is a very small Guild now. Coal is still very useful for the plastics industry, but has not been used as a fuel since perhaps the first millennium. The Atmospheric Restoration Guild would have an absolute fit if it were. They've spent the last seven thousand years running scrubbers and reducing global CO2 from 700 to 300 ppm. They are not quite through, but with an unlimited power supply from the p-B11 reactors, the end is in sight. The goal of 280 ppm, set by Abdul Hafiz, Servant of the Protector in the second millennium, should be reached in another twenty years.

I digress. We arrived at the Antarctica training complex by military transport on August 10th. I was not looking forward to the experience. The cave training is especially brutal, even by Guard standards. Lots are drawn to pick the prey, which are then tracked down and, well, to put it bluntly tortured in three-day rotations. I shocked the Guard commanders by volunteering to be a prey. Even the pain fanatics of the Guard aren't that stupid.

The odds against the prey are impossibly high. The training is more about the mental discipline needed to hunt down and torture a fellow guardsman, rather than the physical exertions of the hunters. The prey is released with a one-hour head start, and after that has less than a two-hour half-life for avoiding capture.

I think I would have had a chance to avoid capture for the full three days, but the trooper whom I rescued had injected a tiny homing beacon into my ribcage during our brief fight. It's a gas-fired pellet triggered by flexing the forearm, part of a hunter's equipment I was not told about. Once the beacon was inside me, I was a goner.

I don't blame my adversary, or any of the hunter packs. After over sixty hours of coming up empty, they must have been desperate to find me. With their overwhelming superior position, the disgrace of their failure would have been monumental. Even before my encounter with the guardsman by the ledge, I was starting to think about allowing myself to be captured, nothing too obvious, and certainly not getting hit with a voltage grenade either. But it all worked out for the best.

I was brought back semiconscious to the underground base camp infirmary after being stunned. Strictly speaking, the medical military personnel should have tried to revive me immediately so I could spend the rest of the test period being tortured. But there was an unprecedented rumble of protest within the lower ranks of the Guard. The adversary in my fight had spread the word how a Ruling Royal had sacrificed his position to save the guardsman's life, and there was a groundswell of protest about torturing me. The Guard commander made a field decision to let me recover in peace. It wasn't a risky decision. Once the test period ended, the person to review his decision was me.

I had learned my lesson. We spent the sixth and final training period practicing underwater warfare in the Caribbean. How often a Ruling Royal would need protection by men in scuba gear is a little beyond me, but the training is no less intense. I was quite content to be a novice observer, hovering five meters below the surface, my insignia clearly identifying me as a non-combatant. From my vantage point, I often could see very little, and I must admit, there were several times when I drifted away to admire the coral reefs.

They are so beautiful, dazzling displays of color, the blue water filled with brilliantly colored fish, and there I was, floating among the splendor. With my limited human mind, I think I have a very dim understanding of the true Holy's paradise. But if I had to guess, I think paradise it would be something like floating in a coral reef, surrounding by profound beauty that surpasses all understanding.

I yawned deeply, both from the wine and my weariness. I closed my eyes for a moment. My friend spoke quietly from his chair. "Tired Ilias?"

"Oh, a bit," I replied, keeping my eyes closed. "It's this time of day when I miss my wives the most. Ten months Jibran! I'll be so glad to see them again."

It was a shocking admission for any man to make to another, but Jibran and I were close enough that I decided to risk it. He gave a non-committal humph noise, and then I heard him stir in his chair. I thought he was probably re-checking that the security monitors were off and the shields activated.

A quiet moment passed. I was beginning to think about opening my eyes again, and then Jibran spoke. "The Guard Ilias. We really need to talk sometime."

"I'm not asleep. What's on your mind?"

Another pause, and then he said, "Take a look at their eyes sometime Ilias. The Guard respects and fears me, with is perfectly natural. But their thoughts about you border on... on adoration! Personal loyalty between the Guard and an individual councilman?! Ilias! This is an extremely dangerous game you're playing!"

"It's no game. Mutual respect is not a game, never will be for me."

"Call it whatever you want. But a relationship between you and the Guard won't help your advancement, far from it."

"Oh, I know. I'm not doing this to improve my ranking. It's who I am. I can't change that." I finally opened my eyes and thought for a moment. "Well, maybe I take that last part back. I guess I could change myself if I worked on it. But I just don't want to."

Another long moment of silence passed. Jibran closed his eyes for a change, very unusual for a man of his personality, and a rare display of complete trust. After a while he replied, "I'm assuming you know more about Abdul Quddus's health than I do."

I sighed and said nothing. No response was expected. My thoughts returned briefly to a recent private conversation with Faisal, of how another stunningly fast cancer had been successfully treated, in the colon this time.

"What I'm trying to say Ilias, is you still have my vote if the council becomes an electoral college. But your relationship with the Guard might complicate things. It's too much personal power for one man to have."

I laughed. "I not even sure I want the job. I see what Abdul Quddus's life is like. It's insane!"

"Ilias, don't toy about this! When the time comes, the call will be irresistible!"

"Are you sure Jibran? I know people say power seduces and corrupts, but sometimes I don't feel the attraction. I long for a simpler life."

"If you had the choice, would you pick to be a laborer now?"

I sighed. "In reality? No. There's so much I want to do. But in my dreams, I often yearn for simplicity."

Jibran gave a quiet laugh. "I don't hold that against you. The common saying is that power corrupts, but it's been my observation that in reality, power attracts the corruptible."

I thought for a moment. "Excellent point."

"The lack of attraction, there's nothing corruptible in your character for the power to lock onto..."

"Ah, you're going to have me blushing if you keep this up Jibran."

"So your tour of duty with the Guard, what finally became of it?"

"Oh, some minor adjustments, minor but necessary. Future hunter training will be more balanced. The prey will be much better equipped, and have the mission to avoid capture for six hours. Should have about a 50% chance, I think... And all torture will be eliminated, regardless of the outcome."

"And Abdul Quddus agreed to this?"

"He did. I will admit he didn't seem too interested in my arguments. I guess he has other things on his mind. But he signed off on the orders."

Another humph noise from Jibran. "Anything else?"

"That's about it, a few minor safety issues... Oh! The training mines will be sonically scanned for safety issues annually."

Jibran blinked his eyes open. "Wow! I can't believe Abdul Quddus would pay for that."

I laughed. "Well, you're right, he's not. I am. I have a discretionary purse as the Domine of Dakar, an embarrassingly large amount of credits. The sonic scans aren't that expensive."

"But Ilias, why should you pay for them?"

"Jibran, a man died hunting me."

"Exactly! I would wish the same fate on anyone hunting me."

"He was only doing his job. And his death was completely avoidable. It won't happen again, at least not something this blatant."

Jibran squinted his eyes at me. "Ah, my friend, I think I should give up all hope of ever understanding how your mind works..."

It was very late. We talked for a few more minutes, and then gave each other an affectionate hug goodnight. I forced myself to stay awake long enough to undress, and soon afterwards had the delightful experience of meeting my wives in my dream. We were snorkeling with the coral.

Chapter 38. Return to Qataban

Four days later...

Time: January 1, 8240 10:00 PM

I finished a short Prayer of Repose over the intercom with the pilots in the cockpit and then quickly let them get back to work. We had lifted from Bandar Arenas an hour and a half ago, just around sunset, and were now twelve minutes from our scheduled landing at Qataban Primary. The trip of 4485 km would take 1:43 hours to complete.

We had turned off the ramjet engines moments ago when we dropped out of supersonic, and were now flying with just the two small but very powerful turbo jets. A bright first-quarter moon was still a few hours from setting and it was providing a lot of light on the mountains below. Nighttime is a rare commodity at the capital this time of year, and I turned off the passenger cabin's lights completely to get a better view out the window. After a while I leaned back in my seat, idly checked my seatbelt and thought about my schedule.

Following the practice of the other members of the Council, I had picked the rotation among my three Domines to optimize the seasonal climate of my stays, southern hemisphere summer at mountainous Qataban, northern hemisphere spring at Dalma in the Caribbean, northern hemisphere summer at what I considered my primary township Dakar, and then finally southern hemisphere spring at the end of the year back at the capital.

All the sunlight at the capital was beginning to get to me, even though the weather there is perpetually chilly, even in the summertime. At Bandar Arenas, the sun rose today at 3:34 AM and set at 8:31 PM. Qataban however would have a much nicer balance, sunrise at 5:18 AM and sunset at 6:25 PM. Being at 16 degrees latitude gives you that year-round benefit, in addition to being a great latitude for the world's spaceport.

My jet began to bank slightly in its final approach. Up ahead I could see the runway lights, and my breath caught in my throat. My wives! After ten months, it would be so wonderful to see them. Like all adults, they had gotten their annual anti-aging injections on Judgment 4, and then yesterday my ramjet picked them up at Dakar and flew them to Qataban. I was hoping to leave Bandar Arenas much earlier today, but last minute details always take more time than one plans for. But now at last, all the months of separation were at an end. I couldn't wait to talk to Abigail and hear her thoughts about returning to her childhood township. Oh Abigail, my dear first wife! I can't wait to hold you!

One hour later...

With a nod of my head acknowledging the special guard unit outside my door, I entered my private living quarters in my new cathedral. The chime announced my entrance, and I heard the sound of four pairs of running feet as my wives raced to kneel before me. I reached over and activated the Heisenberg shields to save them the bother, and then turned to see my beautiful wives rushing towards me.

I smiled broadly and almost put out my arms to hug them, but in the instant before I would have, the four women dropped to the floor and prostrated themselves before me, in exactly the correct manner of slave wives.

I blinked and almost turned to make sure I activated the shields, but then I noticed that Abigail, Shephatiah, and Chanah all had their hands out before them with a slight space between the middle and ring fingers. It was our secret hand-sign for danger. I jumped into the assumption that we were still somehow being monitored. I barked an order for them to rise and then curtly told Abigail I was tired, but would take a quick shower and mount her before going to sleep. Abigail nodded meekly, and gave a common arm gesture that she would prepare her body for me. The room was completely silent, which was appropriate. I had given no one permission to speak.

My comm network signaled a call was requesting entrance through the Heisenberg shields. I walked over and accepted a holographic call from Amid, my chief of security. He bowed formally and profusely, even though he appeared to be alone. My inner alarm bells went to full alert.

"Permission to speak with completely familiarity Amid. What's going on?"

"Yes, Grand Mufeto. Profuse apologies for not catching you with this before you reached your quarters. We are having difficulties with the Heisenberg shields."

"What sort of difficulty? Continue to speak informally."

"Yes, thank you Grand Mufeto." Amid took a deep breath. "The shields are up. Quantum foam is at standard thickness. It's not a power issue. But we're not achieving a full harmonic lock on the foam. It's very strange sir."

"Any idea what's causing it?" Perhaps a more obvious question would have been when the problem would be fixed, but I didn't want to put Amid on the spot if there were a possibility we were being observed. And asking him when he would fix a problem he didn't understand would certainly do that.

"We have all our resources dedicated to the investigation Grand Mufeto."

"Just sir will do."

"Yes sir, thank you for the honor. We also have a number of your special guard down here helping us."

"My special guard is in on this?'

"Yes sir. They jumped in immediately as soon as the problem started. I didn't have the authority to tell them not to. But they're doing an extremely competent job sir. Do you have any instructions for them sir?"

I thought for a moment, wondering if Amid was trying to send me any subtle hints. I finally decided he wasn't. "No, I guess not. Am I being observed Amid?"

He looked perplexed. "I don't see how. The special guard doesn't either. The quantum foam is at full strength. It's just that without the harmonic lock, we've lost the mathematical proof that you're not observed. Neither the guard nor I know of any way to observe you under these conditions sir. Still..."

"Yeah, enough said. When did the problem start?"

"10:30 PM. We did a full test of the system at 9 PM. Everything was fine then. Then I called up one of your wives at 10:30 to run one last power test, using the controls by your doorway. Shephatiah activated the system on my orders, and then this happened sir. Huh?" Amid looked as if he were being interrupted. "A moment sir?"

I nodded. The holograph switched to pause. I glanced at my wives. All four were obediently holding their heads lowered in a correct submissive posture. What in Shaitan's name was going on?

"Sir?" Amid was back on line. "The special guard commander thinks they've isolated the problem to one of the foam entanglement generators. They're estimating fifty minutes minimum until resolution if that's the cause. Sir? Would you like problem updates?"

"Oh, just call me when it's fixed Amid. I'm going to take a shower. Dismissed."

Amid bowed formally and disconnected.

Well, it wasn't the homecoming I'd been dreaming of. Keeping up the charade, I ignored my wives and took a quick shower. I found Abigail naked in my bedroom when I returned, kneeling as expected and waiting meekly for me to mount her.

I disrobed and walked silently behind her. Abigail trembled and then moved her hands to her butt and spread her cheeks, exposing her anus as required by custom. The Holy! I think it's even a law. And I had never anal mounted any of my wives in my life.

I climbed onto the bed behind Abigail and brusquely pushed her to lie on her side. Even with the thought of being monitored, I quickly found myself growing a full erection. She's so beautiful. Abby lay passively on her side, raising a leg slightly in anticipation of my entry.

I slipped my cock between Abby's inner thighs and made a few short strokes, rubbing against her soft velvety skin and thinking I'd just pretend to lose interest after a while and fall asleep. But as I continued to slide up against her labia, I felt my cock being lubricated with a copious flow from Abby's desire. Oh, my dear wife. This was no act. I bent my hips low and thrust up into her. Abby gave a sharp grunt as I did, but it was not from any discomfort. I knew Abby much too well to be misled. This was a grunt of pure sexual satisfaction.

I reached over and held her hand as we mated. She signed me the signal for danger again, "Sheffie thinks danger" she signed. I signed back that I understood. Both our signals were brief and subtle motions of our fingers. There was no worry at all from either of us of our signals being picked up. But it was the strangest experience making love with her with the possibility, perhaps even probability, of us being observed. The lack of privacy added a voyeuristic element to our coupling, and I was surprised to find that element both annoying and arousing.

Abby panted and then whimpered as she orgasmed. I could feel her body spasm as she rode her pleasure, quick jerky grips on my cock that was sheathed within her. She gasped for a while and then gave out a soft cry, curling and backing her body into mine, wiggling her butt to sheath me as tightly as possible against her cervix. The sweetness of her affection overwhelmed me. I was just so happy to be holding her again. I kept up some gentle strokes for a while, but I knew Abby likes to rest after she comes, and my need to thrust and release myself within her faded away as the tender moments passed. She became very quiet and I stopped pumping her, just caressing the top of her hip lightly with my hand and nuzzling the back of her neck. It was such a long day. Even with the possibility of being observed, I began to doze off, with Abby softly cooing in my arms.

The sound of the comm network roused me from my doze. I looked at the clock. More than an hour had passed since I had come home. My penis had wilted and slipped out of Abby, and my first wife was lying perfectly still and unresponsive, a perfect imitation of an eternal virgin deep within her purge cycle. But I have a totally intimate knowledge of Abby's body, and I knew she had also been awakened by the comm system. I hurried over to answer the call.

It was Amid. He bowed formally and awaited permission to speak.

"Are we private Amid?"

"Yes, Grand Mufeto."

"At last!"