Jack L. Chalker - The Demons at Rainbow Bridge (The Quintara Marathon , No 1)

For Cliff Simak,
who loved the idea he partly inspired,
but then didnt stick around
to see what I did with it.

Morok the Holy Ladue got right down to business.

They were all there in the wardroom: the fearsome-looking Savin, the beautiful Krisha, the wizened Manya, and Captain Chin. Mazarun Klee was also there, though not as a member of the Arm. In an emergency, she and her husband might be the only hope of getting out a message or summoning help, and so they had to know what the rest were supposed to do.

Morok opened with the traditional prayer, May the Gods of Mizlaplan and their Holy Angels watch over and guide their servants in this great task, then got immediately down to business.

You have all read over the basics on this Medara and I do not have to tell you the geopolitical situation, I trust. Geographically, this insignificant dirt ball is essential to the continuance of our Holy Mission and the thwarting of satanic moves against us. It is always such places that acquire this importance, simply because of their lack of intrinsic value. Were this an inhabited world, we would be justified in bringing in whatever force we needed, but under the stupid games of the diplomats we cannot do so without it being interpreted as an accusation of impropriety and thus an insult to the Mycohl, which they could exploit. So, we are left to play the usual games with inadequate forces and personnel, and the stakes are very high. The forces of evil will stop at nothing on this one; we must be worthy indeed to prevail.

Has an intrusion been deduced or merely suspected? Krisha asked the leader.

A Holy Inquisition has been mandated by conditions, although weve been watching and expecting something, naturally, almost from the start. Of the fifty-five people in the developmental colony, the only priest, Wu the Holy Li Tai, was found dead a week ago. It took this long for the report to get to us, and for us to be dispatched with all speedalas. We shall probably learn nothing of importance about his death by the time we get there.

He was murdered? Savin asked, jotting down some note to himself on a pad.

Probably, although it is reported as a natural death. It would be, of course. He was found slumped over his desk in his office. The official cause of death according to the colony medical officer is a burst blood vessel in the braina stroke, in other words. However, as you all know, that is one of the easiest causes of death to fake convincingly, and the forensic facilities in a colony of this size are limited, even if the medical officer had been an experienced coroner and not the usual internist they send to places like this. Manya, you wont have a lot to work with at this point, but do your best.

The science officer nodded her massive head. We can safely assume foul play, in any event. The first thing anyone would do would be to remove the saint. The Holy was, I presume, a telepath?

Morok nodded. Yes. Not the only one in the colony, but, of course, the only incorruptible one. They also took advantage of the requirement that saints be cremated three days after death, knowing we could not possibly get there in time to see the body.

I find the idea that he was murdered somewhat questionable as a starting assumption, Gun Roh Chin put in. It seems to me that killing the only Holy One, knowing it will invoke an Inquisition, is the last thing you would do. You trade one local priest for many, all of whom, unlike the victim, are trained and empowered investigators. And if we find any evidence at all, we will be justified in bringing up whatever force and personnel we need. The possibility that this is in fact a natural death cannot be excluded.

We exclude nothing, Captain, Morok responded curtly, but if we go on the assumption that Wu was murdered, then your point is even better taken. It implies that the Mycohl no longer care if we come inor, worse yet, that we are being lured in, either to be used in some nefarious way or possibly to certify that there is no foul play, or to make a rash accusation without sufficient evidence to take to the Council. Either of the latter two possibilities would be as good as giving them Medara by default. We cannot stay forever; a clean bill of health would give them free rein there for quite some time. An accusation we cannot make stick would wind up in the Council awarding Medara to Mycohl as our penalty for bringing a false charge. We did not intend to bring such a charge, but the damage is now done.

What kind of damage? Manya asked in her low, raspy voice.

Our diplomats jumped to the same conclusions we have, but, alas, they blundered in bringing it up, ever so discreetly, with the Mycohl themselves. It was hoped, Morok said sourly, that this might scare them off.

And instead they went public, Savin guessed.

Moroks birdlike head bobbed in his gesture of affirmation. Either they saw the blunder and capitalized on it, or they counted on it and we fell right into their trap. They denied any improprieties, naturally, and made a great deal of indignant fuss almost at once. They went immediately and loudly public in the chambers, challenging us to prove our allegations or to withdraw them, giving us no choice but to make a formal protest.

Uh-oh, Krisha said, shaking her head in disgust. Then he better had have been murdered, and we better prove it.

Indeed, Morok responded. And that, Captain, is why we begin and end with foul play. Thanks to our own diplomatic stupidity, they have been able to invoke the Munchang Treaty, putting us in an impossible position. They have gone on record actually urging an investigation to clear their good name and they have further demanded that, as the Treaty allows, an outside observer be appointed to ensure our fairness!

They were all suddenly upset except the captain, who kept his silence and merely watched, and Krisha, who seemed thoughtful.

That is intolerable! Savin cried angrily. To have an alien, a heathen, looking over our shoulder, making decisions for reasons of its ownNo! Who knows what motives such a one might have? They would be as much an enemy as the one we seek!

Sacrilege, Manya rasped. This is an Arm of the Gods! We act not just on our own but as the extensions of the Lords of Creation! What if thiscreature, thisheathenshould reverse our finding? It is giving Hell an absolute veto over the gods! Such a thing is irreconcilable with our own holy infallibility!

Moroks birdlike head listened impassively to the arguments and pleas, and waited for the din to die down. Finally, unfazed, he said, The arguments are correct and well taken, but they have already been argued before a Grand Council of the Mizlaplan itself. Theologically, it was rightly determined that, as an Arm, we act with supernatural aid. Are the heathen not also subject to the ultimate will of the gods? If not, why do we try and convert them? Are they not of the same seed as the majority of the Mizlaplan, ignorant of the truth and as such given to allow Hell equal weight, yet hardly damned. If we do the work of the gods, then the gods must also be trusted to have influence over the observer. That was how the treaty was enabled and how our ancestors could agree to it in the first place, and, overall, it has worked out well.

But a heathen! Manya was livid.

It is not as bad as all that, Morok soothed. In several hundred such cases, when the Exchange has had no stake in the outcome, they have virtually always come down on our side. They are not a pleasant people nor from a pleasant culture, but something in their souls impels them towards the side of the gods, when it is us versus the satanists. They resist us, perhaps even fear us, but they truly dislike the Mycohl. It might even be argued that the Observer works in our favor. We only have to prove interference; by virtue of their protestations of innocence and ignorance of this affair, the Mycohl do not even get to testify.