Out of the Frying Pan...

                            By:

                         Fox Cutter

3/31/96:

I collected the fifty or so papers that were scattered
across my desk and tucked them into a file folder. Making
sure that I had everything I was going to need, I exited my
office and headed for the Council chamber.

It wasn't a quick trip, as it's not the easiest thing to get
to--especially if you don't want to be seen until you get
there.

Luckily, though, the office I was using (and had had for the
last three years, though it had been shut down since my
exile started) was on Prid, just outside of the Marble Hall.

I was not taking the main entrance, though. I walked down
another corridor and out onto the street above (95% of the
city surrounding the Marble Hall is underground, but all of
the Marble Hall is underneath the city).

Wandering through the streets for a few minutes, I
eventually headed back underground, to one of the smaller
entrances to the Hall.

Now, the reason I had taken the back way in was exactly
that. It WAS the back way, so my presence wouldn't be known
by the Council until I got there personally... which was
exactly what I wanted.

After a few more turns I entered the waiting room for the
Council. With a nod to the secretary, I walked right through
the door on the far side and into the main offices of the
second level members. Behind me, I could hear the secretary
start to protest (I had not been called), but I just kept on
going.

Many twists and turns later, I was heading down the last
hall, at the end of which were the oaken doors of the
Council chamber. Picking up a bit of speed, I walked right
up to them, and pushed both open, hard.

The instant I entered, I could hear every argument stop. A
single member, outraged, shouted out, "What is the meaning
of this?!" I, of course, didn't answer immediately.

Setting my folder on the table, I leveled a gaze at the
Council. "The meaning of this is that I needed to address
you all, NOW."

"You should have made an appointment, then," a second member
spoke down, acidly.

I shook my head. Outside the doors, I could see security
waiting for an order to remove me. "If what I have here is
right, I never would have gotten an appointment."

"What kind of information could this be?" the first member
(the outraged one) asked.

I took a moment to choose my words. "Corruption within the
Council, which looks to be merely a branch of a much larger
corruption."

The silence in the room was heavy for a few seconds, but
then one of the members laughed. "Funny," he said. "Guar--"

"Wait." A single, ancient voice spoke. Everyone stopped,
even the Council head (who had been starting to stand up),
and looked to the left seat of the top level... to The
Ancient. He was a very old human, with long grey hair. His
fingernails were three inches long, at LEAST, and filed to a
point. His hands were wrapped around a thick walking stick,
upon which he rested his chin.

It had been rumored that in his fifty year tenure as a
Council member, he had spoken only once, and that nearly ten
years ago, about the Tarnial. Those few words, it was said,
had changed the course of history.

Looking over the Council, he said in his low, gravelly
voice, "This Council has existed for half a thousand years;
considering it uncorruptible is unbelievable and extremely
self-destructive. This is especially true in this--and
future--times, as the world as we once knew it has ended,
and a new one is still just beginning. Mister Cutter, please
present to this Council your evidence, so that we may decide
if these allegations are correct, and if so, to remove those
who have so dishonored their position in these chambers with
their actions."

There was a pause, in which even the air seemed to have
stopped. Then, ever so slowly, a single member raised a paw
and waved the guards away. "Please, then, sir Cutter, speak
your peace."

I sat down on the edge of the table, and flipped open the
folder. Pulling out the first paper, I said, "First, you
must understand that the information I have only HINTS about
corruption in the Council. I must stress that it is not
definite anywhere."

A Council member scoffed, but was immediately shushed by his
colleagues. I continued.

"What this is mainly about is my exile. Many of you should
know there was a poorly-executed assassination aimed at me a
couple of months ago. This really was the first suggestion
that I had that someone didn't want me out of exile, even in
the limited way I was then, and still am now."

There were a few nods from the assorted members, and a few
whispers, nothing out of the ordinary.

"That incident prompted me to ask an associate to retrieve
ALL information pertaining to my exile.  However, I asked
for my associate to retrieve it out of view of anybody
watching them, 'under the radar' as it were. A few days ago
I received this information."

I adjusted my position to something a little more
comfortable. "The first thing I did was run all the reports
and interviews, sans mine, through a language processor. It
came out that there was only a 5% variation in ALL of them."

I paused for a second. A third level member interjected, "Of
course; they're all the same story."

I nodded, "Yes, but it's not that simple. It's not the story
that's in question, but the whole of the reports. The body
language, the wording, the intonation, EVERY part has only a
5% variation, in over 400 reports!"

"Holy..." one of the members started. "That is impossible!"

"Exactly," I said, drawing the first syllable out a bit.
"This means that probably ALL the reports were either faked
or modified. Which validates past evidence of data
tampering."

This brought another series of muttering from the Council
members.  Having made my point, I relaxed my shoulders and
waited for a reaction.

Finally, one of the Council members stood up. "You make a
very interesting argument, mister Cutter, but it is still
possible that there has been, and was, no tampering. Do you
have ANY solid proof, that we might use in our decision?"

I chuckled, "Yes, actually I do." I tapped the back of my
left hand on the table. "This."

"The table?"

"No," I said, mentally adding 'you idiot,' "my hand."

A LOT of eyebrows (and eye-ridges) raised.

I grinned, proud of myself. "Fifteen months ago, I landed on
a planet named Meridia. The events of the week that followed
are a matter of public record, on all of the planet, in this
Hall's databases, and in the Twelve Empires, which the
planet is a part of."

I rubbed my left wrist a bit; it was getting painful again,
though purely psychological. "During the course of the
events on that planet, I was captured (which seems to happen
to me a lot). When they interrogated me, I discovered
first-hand that in order to persuade people to give
information, they remove fingers, with a jagged knife...a
very dirty cut.

"The long and short of this is that by the time I got back,
my left hand was infected and partly shattered. The
easiest--and safest--way to treat it was amputation.
Normally, this wouldn't be a problem, as I would have been
put in a re-gen tank for a few days. That wasn't an option
in this case, though, as I have a deadly allergic reaction
to the main chemical solution for re-gen."

I raised my left hand, and curled my fingers back and forth.
"Basically, this is one of the best prosthetics you will
ever find. It even looks normal under my worlds current
medical technology."

One of the members sighed, impatiently, "Entertaining story,
but what's the point?"

"The point is, in the third day of the time Becky and I were
on Catarn, my hand was caught in a plasma explosion,
damaging the prosthetic--and also the base."

I grinned again, COMPLETELY self-satisfied, and stated, "All
of the 400-some-odd reports have me hitting the bomb's
detonation button, right before I went through the portal,
*with my left hand*!"

This brought an instant, loud reaction from the members.
Someone shouted out, "Do you have the repair information
about this?"

I shook my head, "Sadly, no. All the records, and the
actually prosthetic itself, are missing, but there is still
more than my word to go by. When I discovered that the
records were gone, I started going through the database.
Eventually, I tried a round-about approach, and stuck
water."

I dug out a few more pieces of paper. "Whoever deleted the
records, and took the actual hand, made exactly one flaw.
However, it was a fatal one."

Pulling out a hard copy of the medical report, I said, "They
forgot about the base. This also had to be replaced, only
surgically."

Pulling out the damage report page, I continued. "This
analyst says that the damage was caused by a plasma
explosion. It even gives the estimated day and time of the
explosion, based on the level of constant disintegration
from the residue plasma itself."

This brought on even more murmurs from the assorted members.

"This is all well and good," a member said, "but where does
the alleged corruption in the Council come in to play?"

"That is a very good point, and I'll get to that right now."
I pulled out a few more papers. "Of the ten people taking
interviews from the Catarn, two died under suspicious
happenings, and three more where found guilty of, and jailed
for, conspiring against the Council.

"In the examination of one suspect, it came out that all
three where working for a concise organization. Another
interesting thing came to light in a later trial. When one
of the three was asked why he was conspiring against the
Council, he replied, and I read from the transcript of the
trial:"

I picked up another paper, and quoted. "'I did not act
against the Council, but the section of the Council that is
not ours.'"

Setting the paper down, I said, "This statement was never
even LOOKED into, let alone investigated. Now tell me,
truthfully, what does this leave you thinking?"

The members all paused, and looked over one another, most
with suspicion in their eyes. A few, with bared claws and
fangs, suddenly decided that this was the reason for what
they thought were strange actions on the parts of other
members.

I set the last paper down. "Exactly my point. There appears
to be something BIG under the surface, here, which
apparently I landed in the middle of on Catarn."

Crossing my arms, I waited for any more reactions.
Interestingly enough there were none. I collected the
papers, and set them on the table, "I'll leave these with
you; I have my own copies."

I was turning to leave when the Council Head said, "wait."

I looked at her. "Yes?"

Leaning forward she said, "there is one more thing that
needs to be resolved."

"And that is?"

She stood, "all members, anonymous voting, concerning the
complete removal of foxeris ryoga cutter's exile status."

In unison, every member reached forward and voted. For the
first time in many a vote I've seen, not a single one tried
to delay it at all.

As soon as the last member voted, the Council Head stood
again. "by the vote of this council," she said, "on the
fifth day of g'nthor, in the year of prid 437, we, the
council of the joined multi-verse, hereby lift the exile of
foxeris ryoga cutter."

I grinned slightly, and nodded a bit, "Thank you, Council."
Then I left the main chambers before they could change their
minds.

* * *

As I walked through the inside halls a few minutes later, a
page called out my name. I stopped, and waited for her to
catch up. "Yes?" I asked.

She panted a bit, obviously having been running, "Councilor
Rathal has requested your presence in his chambers."

I grinned, "Sure. Could you show me where it is?"

"I was told to do so," she said, and then headed off down
the hall.

I followed her for a few minutes, until we reached an
unlabelled door in the back of the office section, "this is
his office?"

The page, who was a skunk, shook her head a bit, "No, but
this is where he told me to bring you."

I looked at her, and stepped back a bit, "I'm not really
sure..." I said.

"It's ok, Fox," a voice said behind me. Turning around, I
found myself almost face to face with the Council head.
Narrowing my eyes a little, I asked, "Rachel, what are you
doing here?"

"We need to talk with you. Rathal is in the room already."

I looked at the two, and moved back a bit more, "I REALLY
don't think I should go in there."

Rachel shook her head a bit, "Fox, please trust me. It is a
clean room, bug free. I had it set up nearly a year ago for
this type of conference. Please, come in with us."

I closed my eyes, and sighed, "Very well, but you two go in
first."

She nodded and entered the room. The page (who had opened
the door) followed. I paused for a second, starting to wish
I had followed Oria's suggestion of bringing a firearm, then
slowly went in, but in such a way I would be able to jump
back fast enough just in case.

Inside was a normal looking office, inside which Rathal sat
on a leather chair. Rachel had moved to sit behind the desk,
and the page was in a chair herself.

I moved a bit, and leaned up next to the door.  I closed it
almost completely, but kept it just barely ajar so it
couldn't lock. "What's going on here?"

Rachel folded her paws over one another. "You have done in
just days what we haven't been able to do in two years, and
that's get enough evidence together to prove corruption in
the Council."

I looked at her, the impact of her words sinking in, and
getting slightly pissed off. "You mean you used me?"

"No. I gave only what you asked for. You made the jumps,
yourself, to link it to the council."

I shook my head a bit, and padded over to the free chair,
letting the door close all the way. "I don't know... How
long have you known?"

"Since I got the job of Council head. There were notes left
by the old head hidden in his desk."

I sat down. "So this is much bigger?"

The page nodded and spoke. "Very much so; we're not sure how
big. We do know it has branches in half of the major
corporations on Prid, a few off, and many, MANY free working
agents for them. This has been around for many years, and we
fear it's going to move soon."

I set my head in my hands, "How many are you?"

Rachel looked at me, and said, "With you, four."

I blinked, and stood up fast, "Wait a damn minute here! I'm
done with this. I have no intention of wading back in!"

"Wrong, Fox," Rathal said, his voice not even sounding
stressed, pissing me off all the more. "You're still in
this, up to your neck. Right now you're the weak link. You
do know too much, and I have no doubt that they will try to
remove you again. Even faster if they knew of us."

I looked over them, rather contemptuous. "Why should I?"

The page shook her head, "You're exactly like I was in this
situation. Simply put, it is the best thing to do."

I looked over the three, "I'm sorry, but I can't. This is
not my place to--"

"This is EXACTLY your place!" a voice boomed, cutting me
off. Turning around, my eyes came upon The Ancient, who was
quietly closing the door. "This is now the time for you to
take action. You are the key to unraveling this conspiracy.
Your future actions will shape the ways of things to come,
yet no one will know this. This is your place in time."

Then he slowly turned his head to the page, "Your place is
by his side, yet never near. You need to keep this place
lest all you fall."

Next he looked at Rathal. "Your place is to be seen. What
will happen will all be yours, but only after it does
happen. No matter what sacrifices have to be made."

Then, with a final gaze at Rachel, he said, "You are to
lead. As this is the time of shadows, watch your sides. Also
know this, though yet you are four, you are now five."

I looked at him, very slightly panicked. "Ummm... did you
say, *shadows*?"

He nodded.

"Is that just a name to reference them, or what they really
call themselves?"

"That is not what history will call them."

I looked up at the ceiling, rolled my eyes, and complained
to whoever would have me, "Gods! A conspiracy of light! When
did JMS staring writing my life!?!"

All of them looked at me.

"Are you in, then?" Rathal said.

I nodded, reluctantly. "I'm damn well in, I can't be out."

The Ancient slowly nodded, "At last, he understands."