Trial of gesh, p.23
Trial of Gesh, page 23
Boredom and overcrowding took its toll on the patience of those who had journeyed so far. To make matters worse, the latest groups of pilgrims contained women from the far side of the planet. Their dress was different, their speech strange, and most of all, the women were religious leaders.
Tyler had joined a discussion with one such woman, a Pretare named Hesli. She spoke of alarmingly low birthrates in their villages, and how most families did not have children at all, let alone male children. Several generations prior to Hesli’s, the village priests declared a change to their religion in which women apprentices could be substituted for the men villages found increasingly difficult to bear. She went on to describe a region under the control of five Pretares that had lost so many men, several villages were abandoned, and what few men remained took on multiple wives in an attempt to reestablish the population.
Tyler thought back to Samil’s village and recognized how that trend was spreading throughout the planet. What if Gamel did not return? What would happen to the people of this world? Would they continue honoring the religion that was destined to destroy them, or would survival win, casting aside the old ways in favor of new innovations and technologies?
Tyler thought about the Vereen and the grotto and realized the natural resources of this planet were still rich and promising. Given the right research, they could discover wondrous drugs that could cure the drop in birthrates. Combined with a richer diet from the fertile forests, the planet could recover its population. Tyler knew from several women in the grotto that disease and birthrates were not problems in Malane. They spoke of a rich lifestyle with ample children to replace those lost from old age.
In fact, the people of Malane practiced birth control as dictated by the Pretarchs. When Tyler looked around the valley, he understood only a limited population could be supported with the resources available. He knew the need for population control, but realized they could support twice the current population. Tyler remembered Joriss’s comments about birth control and knew such things had probably been around for thousands of years. Ironic considering the planet’s current state.
Tyler foresaw an explosive situation brewing if Gamel did not reappear. Despite attempts to refocus the pilgrim’s discussions on the return of their god, many spoke rebelliously about the healthy and vibrant population within the Holy City. Why did they enjoy Gamel’s riches while the rest suffered?
Though few incidences spawned from these rumblings, Tyler heard rumors of two men raping a Malane woman. The rumor said the two men disappeared, but no one could confirm it. If such an event had occurred, how could the Pretarchs of Malane deal with such an issue? They had no police, no army and no courts. The only laws in this land came from their religion. What would happen if the Pretals from the desert rebelled? Tyler saw the camp as a powder keg set to explode. If their god was going to return, he better hurry.
Tyler pushed his way through the crowded market where the camp acquired daily sustenance. He wanted a few items to take with him to the amphitheater for the nightly parties hosted for the damned. It was usually a time of rabid discussions of revolution and rebellion, and although Tyler intimately knew about such things, he never joined the conversations. He understood better than anyone the problems rebellions represented.
Even under the use of drugs, the talk was steadily more animated and lively. He once overheard men talking about how to create primitive weapons to force their way into areas of Malane currently off limits. Neither of the men spoke about why they needed access to these areas, but with the new air of treason, reason was no longer important. Not being trusted was sufficient reason for hostilities.
Tyler pushed his way past several men debating over the unusually delicious bread now reduced to a single loaf. One argued in favor of his taking the bread because his Pretare was old and couldn’t come to the market himself. The other two Pretals cast aside that reasoning in favor of their own desires not being met in the last few days. Tyler grinned at their folly, slipping away with the bread they fought over.
He was long gone by the time he heard the angry protests erupt from his theft. Although he knew he was agitating a simmering cauldron, he’d learned long ago to look out for number one. He weaved his way in and out of the crowd, picking out pieces of fruit and vegetables before heading into the amphitheater.
He was surprised food wasn’t a problem despite the increase in population. When he asked some of the ladies at the grotto, it became clear Malane held plenty of supplies in underground storage facilities while taking full advantage of the abundance in the surrounding mountains. The forests were not off limits to citizens of Malane and contained ample supplies of fruit, vegetables, and nuts. These were delicacies to the people of the desert.
The problem was too much food. People now squabbled over items that months before they would have gladly shared as a special treat. Familiarity bred contempt, and Tyler began seeing overweight men as the abundance of food led many to gluttony. To each their addictions, Tyler thought glumly.
He’d learned to ignore the current predicament in the camp as he set up an existence that suited his own failings. He was well respected within the underground community and had all his products supplied—just like on Earth. He was content with the life despite its unhealthy nature. Fortunately, after the long journey to Malane, Samil’s body found renewed health from the heart condition that nearly killed him. He gave credit to the strength of his Onyalum spirit feeding life into the weakened flesh.
Though he felt occasional chest pains while climbing the mountains to the secret waterfall, he ignored them and submerged himself into whatever narcotics were available. Even the ladies of the grotto fell victim to the addictions of perneem. Though they had their own narcotics, they’d never known perneem until Slimsa and the other men turned them onto it. It didn’t take long before they were consumed.
Tyler was relieved. He enjoyed the mountain flowers but maintained a true addiction to perneem. During the orgies, he once again found love with Toosia and Linda. It filled his deep desires, and he became content. He even decided to stay in Malane after the climax of their pilgrimage. Well, at least until Samil’s body failed. He’d had enough of the religious life and relished the renewal of his role as a drug dealer. It was something he understood, something that connected him with his previous life on Earth. Though that life was gone, the lifestyle remained.
He entered the amphitheater as light over the western mountains faded to pinks and reds. Flickering lights near the floor indicated many enjoyed their daily habits. Tyler smelled the acrid odor of perneem wafting on the cool evening air, and his body reacted with anticipation of the dark smoke.
The newfound pleasures in the grotto were still held secret by only a few dozen men. Slimsa spoke often about the problems that would arise if hundreds of users discovered their hideaway. Despite this, Slimsa confided in Tyler and Meramses that he was concerned about the sexual release the men needed. Neither of them approved of the increasing homosexuality and they would welcome any way to provide the necessary sexual pleasures.
Because of this, Slimsa devised a plan to offer a form of prostitution inside the camp. He’d spoken with some of the women in the grotto, and they had enthusiastically agreed to accommodate the men in exchange for the perneem they were addicted to. It was a vicious circle, and though Tyler felt guilt at this obvious corruption, he supported the plan and helped Slimsa. Tyler loved the grotto, but if he could avoid the long journey into the mountains while fulfilling his carnal needs, he wholeheartedly embraced the scheme.
He was not naive, he’d known such things in Los Angeles. Women and men providing sexual favors to support their addictions. Raul and his organization avoided such people as they were notoriously unreliable and posed great risk to any operation. It was well understood these people, willing to sell themselves, would readily sell out anyone if it meant they could feed their insatiable cravings. Those people were usually addicted to crack, crystal meth, or heroin, and Tyler had avoided those dangerous narcotics. It wasn’t as though he had standards, he simply viewed them as the bottom end of the drug world and was glad to operate at the upper end of the spectrum.
He descended the stairs toward the glowing lights until Slimsa signaled him to move around to the other side of the amphitheater away from the men. Tyler moved through a row of seats to meet Slimsa near the main stage. It was an enormous platform rising twenty rows above the floor. The stage was cut from stone, as was most of the amphitheater, but this was highly polished with a white sheen reflecting even the tiniest spark of light. It glowed in the dim twilight, but Tyler knew they were moving to the back of stage into its hidden catacombs.
Only a few men adequately explored the area, and since Tyler was one of them, he knew Slimsa wanted his expertise to locate a suitable place for their brothel. When he’d been exploring, he had found a hidden stairway leading down the backside of the stage to an underground catacomb filled with rooms and altars for worship. Tyler had no idea what ceremonies had been performed down there, but since only the altars remained with centuries of dust, he assumed they were abandoned long ago.
With rich fabrics from Malane, the rooms could easily be converted into a cavern of their own—a cavern that would satisfy orgies for hundreds of addicts.
“Good evening, Samil, are you ready to put our plan into action?” Slimsa was as cool as the Cheshire Cat. As usual, Meramses stood back, calm and quiet, more like a body guard than a partner.
“Yes, Slimsa, I am ready and even brought dinner.” Tyler held out the sack of the food he’d acquired. “I secured a loaf of the bransin bread we so love, much to the chagrin of the three Pretals arguing over it.”
Slimsa laughed and embraced Tyler’s shoulders. “That’s what I love about you, brother, you were born to this work.”
Tyler returned the smile. You have no idea, brother!
Slimsa gestured to the back of the stage. “After you, Samil, show us what wonders you have discovered.”
Tyler moved into the shadows as Meramses handed him a chemical lamp. They marched through the darkness with the lamp held forward. He quickly located the hidden stairway to the catacombs below. He ignored the voices of Slimsa and Meramses speaking quietly about the amazing construction around them. The temples in the villages were architectural marvels, but this was something else entirely.
The dim light of the lamp reflected off the polished stone and lit the entire stairwell as they descended hundreds of feet below the stage. On the bottom, Tyler lit various sconces lining the hallways and rooms of the catacombs. Once completed, angelic light reflected off the white stone. To Tyler, it looked heavenly, and he thought once again of Gamel.
Were these Gamel’s private chambers, or did he hold residence in the great temple? If these were not Gamel’s private chambers, then what purpose had they served? Were they for ritual preparation or prayer? Neither seemed reasonable use for such a grand architecture, especially since they appeared abandoned. Perhaps they’d been built, but never used. Whatever their original purpose, they would soon have a new one.
“Samil, you are fabulous.” Slimsa spun around smiling at the glorious rooms. “We can setup our private meeting areas far from the prying eyes in the camp. Assuming we can keep the men quiet, no one need know women entertain us down here. Splendid!”
“I am sure some of the women can easily supply cloth, pillows and blankets to soften the stone.” Tyler placed his hand on the glowing wall next to him.
Slimsa grinned. “I believe they can do that and more. We should be able to provide beds, tables, and chairs as well. These catacombs should be more than a sexual meeting place, they should be our headquarters where we can pursue whatever interests us.” He signaled to a room down the hallway. “Down there, we can manufacture everything we need, and I have already secured the necessary ingredients from a person willing to make the journey to the desert. He has several volunteers, so we should be able to maintain a steady supply.”
Tyler watched as the excited Slimsa began building his drug empire. He obviously saw an opportunity to seize power from the religious leaders by providing instantaneous pleasure rather than the promise of some far distant future. Tyler knew he had more experience and organizational skills from being the Admiral, but his desires were simpler and more immediate—feed his addiction. He left empire building to younger men willing to trade freedom for the trappings of power.
Tyler smiled at Meramses. “This will be truly spectacular, Slimsa.”
Slimsa was lost in his own imaginings. “Yes, it truly will.”
* * * *
It didn’t take long for Slimsa to create the new pleasure palace deep in the catacombs. When finally unveiled, the hundreds of men it catered to were impressed. Everybody was ready to experience that which had been denied them since beginning their long journey.
Because the number of women was limited, Slimsa devised a numbering system enabling everyone an opportunity to participate once or twice a week. Although the economy of Malane was not based on material acquisition, Slimsa established a simple trade of sex and drugs in exchange for food, ale, and clothing. Within a short period of time, Slimsa’s sin emporium acquired the rich look of the old village caverns adorned with tapestries, sculptures, and furnishings.
Surprisingly, some of the new customers came from within Malane itself. Young men and women gladly threw their beliefs aside in exchange for the newfound decadence offered in the depths. Even the grotto was rarely frequented except when Slimsa held private parties to escape the hustle and bustle of his thriving enterprise.
Tyler rode the wave of success with grace and humility. He held a special niche as confidante to Slimsa, and everything he desired was provided. He found sober times rare and did not remember the times when he was not. It felt like Los Angeles, and he relished his former position. The BMW and cable television were noticeably missing, but then he’d never enjoyed orgies back on Earth. It was a welcome addition to his addictive behavior, and he threw himself to the task with a gusto even he found surprising. Every time was like the first, and he gladly lived out his fantasies with Toosia and Linda.
Deep in his soul, he knew the pleasures were nothing more than a perversion of the love he’d lost, but because of his addictions, rational thought no longer ruled. He didn’t care why he pursued the pleasures only that they continue. The more he consumed the less of Tyler remained. But he needed more. Like the crack addicts he’d once despised, he no longer controlled his world, it controlled him. He constantly fed his habit and the perverted diversions were never more than a door away.
He never slept inside the camp and spent most of his time in the catacombs. He wasn’t even certain whether his bunk was still available. Surely they’d reassigned it to one of the new pilgrims arriving each day. The camp bustled with these arrivals, and every day, life within the camp became more unbearable. It was this confined living that fed the catacombs. Men grew impatient with the arrangements and turned toward the temptations offered beneath the ancient gathering place.
Older men, Pretals now retired, could not resist the forbidden fruit denied them as spiritual leaders in their community. As their life neared its end, they wanted to taste the fruit to bring back even a momentary glimpse of the youth and vitality they’d once had. The catacombs thrived as men sought an escape from the drab existence within the church, and the increase forced Slimsa to recruit large men to strong arm the unruly crowds that became so common.
This was the trap Tyler wanted to avoid. Slimsa no longer spent time enjoying his riches but spent time building and protecting them. Tyler’s position was ideal, all the enjoyment, none of the work. Slimsa’s only demand of him was that he explore new areas, new populations, and new supply acquisitions within Malane. It gave Tyler a reason to continue his travels throughout the mysterious city and kept him flush with supplies and women.
He was currently far from the catacombs inside the central city of Malane. He’d borrowed the robes of a Pretarch and casually walked through the city as if he belonged there. Deception was uncommon on Gamel, and no one questioned his presence as he explored the various buildings surrounding the central temple.
On this trip, he’d found the meeting place of the Pretarch council, but narrowly avoided being ushered into one of the sessions. Nonetheless, he found a small cubby to hide in while listening to the council discuss issues confronting their Holy City and the pilgrims within their borders. The council was angry with the situation and called for a way to force order and ensure religious rituals were being met while the pilgrims waited for Gamel’s return.
Grand Pretarch Nerun offered his assurances the pilgrims visit was temporary and that order would be restored once Gamel returned. This was met with questions about his return, but Nerun held them at bay as he assured them the time drew near and they would all be told once Gamel’s intentions were known.
Tyler imagined an angry city waiting indefinitely for the return of a god that abandoned them long ago. Tyler found no proof he existed, and the natural evolution of the planet explained more about their predicament than the theory of a mysterious and vengeful god. If the council didn’t know when this pilgrimage would end, no one did.
This bode well for Slimsa’s operations, and if Gamel didn’t return, there would be a power vacuum as people grew restless and despondent with a religion that promised a god but delivered nothing.
Tyler knew civil wars started over less. He had left the council meeting with little to report to Slimsa other than the pending return of their god was unknown. He’d made his way through several of the towers, stopping in a dining hall to join others in one of their fine meals. Though a few people eyed him suspiciously, his cover story about living far from the city was taken at face value. He rather enjoyed spying, and despite a remembrance of Nayllen Hooss on Poolto, Tyler saw the appeal of knowing more than your position allowed.
