by Jon Chaisson
*
Governor Rieflin stood at the tinted floor-to-ceiling windows that lined the northern wall of the governor’s quarters, silently debating how to proceed. The billowing storm cloud circled around them and effectively cut them off from the rest of the world below. The view of the sea of clouds and little else bordered on the surreal, and Anton felt extremely uncomfortable by it. He stared outside, contemplating the storm, but found little in the way of answers.
He had watched it for a good part of the afternoon, especially since the disappearance of Councilor Mancka Udéma, and began to wonder about the inevitable political backlash he would be receiving soon. He hated to think that way, but as a provincial governor, there was no getting past the vultures. He’d be hearing from the corporations again soon enough. He chose to ignore them for now, his main focus remaining on the situation at Moulding Warehouse. His eyes and ears were the police and ARU forces lining the perimeter, and he trusted them.
Nandahya Mirades stood beside him, her arms crossed. “There’s no threat to the Tower, Anton. There’s little more we can do right now other than watch. That storm out there seems to be hovering over the warehouse, by the looks of it.”
The swift change of subject temporarily took him by surprise. “You’re saying it stopped there?”
“Stopped,” she echoed. They both stared at the storm’s eye in silence for a long moment. “Stopped,” she repeated.
“Storm clouds don’t just stop,” he said. “Unless you can explain to me what this anomaly is, I’m afraid I can’t do a damn thing except stare at it. Any ideas, Nandahya?”
She shrugged. “A few, but none that make sense. I’m thinking there might be some…” she trailed off, thoughts suddenly lost somewhere. She dropped her arms heavily and returned to the couch on the other side of the room. Her mouth slowly dropped into a frown, and her eyelids grew heavy. Belatedly Anton realized she was trying to sense someone down below, so he left her alone. He debated calling Shirai, but chose against it. There was little she could have done anyway other than analyze the situation. It would have to wait until…until when? He felt lost, having no way to gauge his own emotions and thoughts against what was going on down there. Unlike the events of the last few days, no one was coming to harm, and everyone around him had assumed that nothing dangerous would happen that he’d have to answer for.
He was clearly out of his league, and it bothered the hell out of him.
“Rain,” Nandahya suddenly said, her voice louder than expected, and he twitched in surprise. “It’s not raining down there.”
Anton frowned. “Excuse me?”
She shook herself out of her daze and faced him. “It’s not raining down there. With clouds that thick, you’d expect some form of precipitation. I’m sensing from others down there right now that the front lobby’s cool and dry. Not your normal cloud cover, Anton.”
Anton shivered. “I’ve already read the meteorologists’ reports. They just think it’s a late summer storm. I’m feeling otherwise.”
Nandahya studied him as he said that. “How?”
“How what?”
“How are you feeling that? How do you know it’s not a summer storm?”
He shrugged as he glanced at the windows again. “I don’t know…just a hunch, I guess. And storms normally don’t stall like that, even if they’re slow moving. Why do you ask?”
“Because I think I know what’s happening. But before I say anything else, let me ask you a question.”
Anton cocked an eyebrow. “What does this have to do with anything?”
“It could mean everything,” Nandahya said. “Please, sir.”
He nodded and took a seat in the opposite couch, facing her. They both sat on the opposite ends of their couches, she near the main exit and he near his desk. It was an odd arrangement for them, sitting at such an angle to each other, as if they’d subconsciously tried to get as far away from each other as possible. He had no reason to do so, it just happened by coincidence.
“I’m sorry, sir, if I’m making you uncomfortable…” she began. “I’m just trying to understand things, just as you are. Unfortunately, there are no ways to go about asking this without causing some kind of unease, so forgive me if I’m blunt.”
“Blunt I’m used to. Ask away,” he said kindly, though his pained expression betrayed his voice.
“Governor…I’d like to know if you’ve been awakened.”
Awakened! He came close to breaking out in laughter, only to stop himself just in time. Goddess, maybe he was too exhausted to think straight. What a thing to ask! He was frequently mistaken for having Meraladian blood in him due to his height and body shape, but being a part of the Awakening? Definitely not. He’d been spared, just like everyone else who’d been inside the Tower that night. He tried to give her the most honest and calm answer he could muster. “As far as I know, Nandahya, I haven’t,” he said with a brief, uncertain smile. “Although I can’t say I would have noticed any difference if I had.”
“You’d know,” she assured him.
“That would be a ‘no,’ then. All I’ve felt is stress, annoyance, and a nagging urge to get some blessed sleep sometime this week. I can’t say I’ve felt anything different. Nothing out of the ordinary.”
Nandahya blushed. “I do apologize, Governor, for being so straightforward…”
“No need for titles here,” he said, waving a hand at her. “There’s no need to apologize. I’m just curious, however, as to why you asked.”
She shifted in her seat, still clearly embarrassed. “The Awakening ritual affected quite a lot of people in this city,” she said. “More than anyone’s expected. I needed to know.”
“I understand,” he said. “And as I said, I don’t think I have. However…that does make our jobs more complicated, doesn’t it? We’re in charge of taking care of these people. If they all happen to have a religious epiphany, great…but we still have to make sure the zealots don’t start with the witch hunts.”
Nandahya frowned at him. “Witch hunts? Honestly, Anton…”
“I can’t rule them out,” he persisted. “As improbable as that may be. Meraladians have been around for two hundred years, with very little antialien uprising against them, other than the radicals here and there. We Gharné lucked out in that respect. You have no idea how many of us thought your race had ulterior motives at first.”
Nandahya’s face had turned pale. “Sir…”
“Please, let me finish,” he interrupted. “Like I said, you’ve been around for two hundred years. Now us Gharné? We’ve had our own religion and spirituality for millennia, and we’ve had all levels of it, from peaceful to downright apocalyptic. Now forgive me if I’m way out of line here, but the last time we had a major uprising of a religious or spiritual nature was a quarter century ago…and we all know how that ended. I’m sure that nearly everyone who’s awakened the last few days have been changed for the better…but I can’t ignore the possibility that it could happen again. I’m not about to evacuate the entire damn Sprawl any time soon, however. I absolutely refuse to take that course of action unless it’s necessary.”
Out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of lightning outside. It was followed by the sound of a low rumble of thunder a few seconds later. Perhaps the storm was finally breaking…? In the dimming light of the office, he couldn’t tell if her reaction to those words was well-hidden shock or just plain surprise. He pushed himself back off the couch and headed to his desk, hiding the amusement on his face.
“Don’t get me wrong, Nandahya,” he continued. “I don’t plan to outlaw these…these divisions, for lack of a better term. I don’t plan on stifling anyone’s freedoms. But I won’t turn away when the violence starts, either. I caught a lucky break when that ARU agent called the Sentinel team to St. Patrick’s, making my own non-police security agency look good in the process. I’m sorry if that sounds
crass, but I don’t mean it to be. But when the Sentinels got involved, I was forced in myself. You know how the media charade goes, don’t you?”
“All too well,” she said distractedly. She’d begun staring off into that nonspace again.
“So I’m forced to keep an eye on everyone,” he continued, seating himself behind his desk. “Or else it looks like I don’t care, or that I’m ignorant. So many centuries of mass-produced media, and you’d think that the political mudslinging would have died out ages ago. Again, I’m sorry if that sounds crass because I’m trying to keep my job here, not my marketability. At any rate…the Sentinels are raring to go just in case anything happens.”
“Nothing good will come out of military intervention in spiritual matters such as this,” she said. “I hope you know that.”
“Of course I do,” he said. “And I hope you know that military invention in spiritual matters can save many lives as well. Purely as a peacekeeping mission, of course.”
“Don’t start, Anton,” she countered, facing him with a devilish grin. “You know how these kinds of arguments end up.”
He very nearly answered that with a wisecrack but decided not to. “I’ve got the BMPD near the warehouse,” he said. “They’re stationed four blocks away, ready to move in if anything happens. I’ve done the same with the BMFD and emergency services. No one moves unless they hear from me. I’ve also got the Sentinel troop from North End close by, just in case. Again, no moves without my say-so.”
Nandahya huffed at him. “This is a peaceful congregation. Admittedly it’s an illegal one, because no permit was sought…but what makes you think anything will happen?”
“What makes you think nothing will?” he asked.
Her silence answered that question for her. He may not have had any experience in this kind of situation, but he certainly wasn’t going to go into it without being prepared. He pushed himself out of a slouch, woke up the desk vidmat, and waited to make his next move.
“That’s why you’re here, Nandahya,” he said, facing her. “You’re the first representative for the Mendaihu in Bridgetown. Second in Command in the Provincial Governor’s Council. Normally I’d contact Mancka on this sort of thing, but as she’s still missing, I have to go higher up and talk to you. Now, we can argue spirituality until we’re blue in the face, or we can act. I’m about to establish contact with all my divisions down there, and I would like you to be a part of this. There’s another vidmat on this desk if you so wish to use it.”
She stared at him in utter surprise. His words must have sounded like an ultimatum that she was nowhere near ready to face, but he had to be adamant. After a moment she accepted, took the chair facing him, and signed herself into the network. She watched in silence as he tapped in security codes and talked his way through at least twelve people before getting the officers he wanted.
“This is just protocol I have to follow,” he explained during a lull in the setup. “Any questions before we go live?”
“None that I can think of,” she said. “Am I cleared for all of this, though? Codes and all?”
He nodded as he arranged all the connections in a grid pattern. “Don’t worry about it,” he said and laughed quietly to himself. “As much as it pains me to say this, I set up access for everyone on the Council a few days ago. Yes, even Philips and Priestley. I just haven’t had the time or the chance to feed the upgrade into your ‘mats and get you logged in.”
Nandahya frowned, but didn’t say anything right away. She must think he was crazy, giving everyone access like that! Especially Priestley...if Crimson-Null gave him the word, his power would trump everyone else’s, including his. He had thought about this ahead of time, of course. He had his own plans for his old friend from Hallera.
He glanced down at all the miniature blue screens, then back up at Nandahya. “Are you ready?”
She nodded. “I trust you,” she said.
He glanced at her for a second, debating the intent of those words, but chose not to dwell on it. He reached over to the vidmat switchboard and brought all the screens to life.
But instead of seeing dozens of faces, nothing happened. No, not entirely…one screen came to life immediately and unexpectedly, in the top right corner. He tapped to enlarge it, and to his surprise saw the face of a civilian he hadn’t contacted at all. The young man sat in what looked like a bedroom, though instead of furniture, an ungodly amount of techware cluttering the wall space. He was sitting in a workstation cage.
“Ah!” the man said with an altogether too pleasant smile. “Governor Anton. So glad to finally meet you, sir.”
“What the — this is a restricted channel!” he barked in surprise. “Disconnect now or you will be traced and arrested!”
“Now, now,” he said in a calm, somewhat hoarse voice. “Is that any way to talk to the people you govern?” He raised an eyebrow and waited for an answer.
Anton growled. He had little time for these games, and switched the man’s feedscreen off, only to find that it had remained frozen open. Even after prodding and punching the screen repeatedly, it was clear he no longer had control of his own vidmat. He grunted with annoyance and contemplated calling Shirai but couldn’t, not with this civilian hacked into the system. He glanced at Nandahya again, but she was fixated on the man’s image on the screen. Did she know him?
“Listen…sir, I believe we need to talk,” the man said.
“Who are you?” he seethed.
Again with the self-satisfied smile. “Let’s just say I’ve been watching you for quite some time, sir. Just watching.”
“Watching…?” He paled. “Vigil.” The man had brazenly hacked into a Provincial Governor’s deck, and he’d done so bypassing all security and evading the countless firewalls, including Shirai’s. And he hadn’t even bothered to mask his face! Anton stared at the man, wondering how the hell this punk had managed to do it, and why he looked vaguely familiar. There was little he could do now, despite his best efforts, except wait out the hijacking. If rumors about Vigil were true, he would not be able to do anything at all until this man disconnected first.
“Again, a distinct pleasure, sir,” the man said and bowed his head. “And a pleasure to meet you as well, edha Mirades. Now…before you move ahead with your little conference, sir, I’d like to speak with you about a few things. Things you may find important.”
“More important than…” Anton caught himself, and prodded at the close-screen function again. “What do you want?”
“Just to talk,” he repeated. “It seems you and I have the same goals, and I believe we can work together. We all want peace between the Mendaihu and the Shenaihu, of course…but that’s where you’re making the mistake, sir. The battle is not linear, but one of balance. The culprit here is not edha Usarai and his Mendaihu, nor is it the Shenaihu and their nuhm’ndah henchmen. The problem, sir…lies within what you see out the window there. The Rain of Light.”
Nandahya choked on her words.
Anton glared at her. “You knew?” he spat. “You knew all this damn time, and you didn’t fucking say anything?”
Nandahya said nothing, but lowered her head.
“I’m surprised you didn’t,” the Vigil said.
“Shut up!”
“Honestly, sir,” he said, holding up his hands. “I really thought you knew. Well — no matter. I just want to tell you that if you continue with this uplink with your poor man’s army, I’m afraid that there may be irrevocable circumstances.”
“They’re there for security, damn you!” he yelled. “There will be no movement unless I tell them!”
The Vigil shot him a pained expression. “You trust them that much, sir?”
“Yes,” he said, though he knew there wasn’t enough conviction to it. Not enough to placate this man. “I do.”
“Well, your loss,” he quipped. “Seriously, I’m sure they all do great jobs…but th
ey’re way out of their league here. Get ready to be taken completely by surprise, sir. The playing field is about to be taken over.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
The Vigil smiled. “You’ll see soon enough. Just sit tight for now.”