by Jay Allan
That is why I have maintained power, why I have even tightened my grip…at least that is what I tell myself. I know power is seductive on its own, and I cannot imagine yielding it now, even though much of me believes that is what I truly want to do. I won’t find out, of course, not unless the Regent is destroyed, and at an age of one hundred and three, I can feel my time coming at least fairly close to an end. I could live to one twenty, even as long as one thirty, I know this…but I won’t be able to maintain my hold for that long. Even now, I can feel my abilities beginning to wane. Perhaps I can maintain my position for five more years, maybe a bit longer, even ten…then I will fall too far. If I remain past that time, it will be only for pride, for the power I once despised but now crave…and my hold will wane regardless, my most loyal partisans aging and dying, and my abilities to hold on slipping away…forever.
That assumes I even have that long. Already, there is widespread unrest, worse in many ways than that I have seen before. The remaining Pilgrims, now a scant 0.6% of the population, are mostly still with me, at least I think they are. That fact would be utterly useless, based solely on their percentage of the population of course, but many of the younger types still look to the older ones, still seek advice and council from those few who were born far from here, who remember a vast network of human occupied worlds, and civilizations that stretch immensely beyond our one world, and a few outposts.
But even that number drops every year. I lost overall popular support at least ten years ago, and if I allowed an election, I doubt today I would get twenty percent of the vote. So, I cannot yield, not even if I wanted to. The victor, the man or woman who would defeat me, would come from one of three groups…and all are hostile to each other. More hostile than they are even to me.
I wonder if I could have created a decent civilization, given the chance, if the absence of the Regent would have allowed a more pleasant society to develop from our stranded people. I often allow myself to believe it…but in my darker moments, I realize that many of our problems would still be here. The Mules, the Tanks, and all the other experiments we have done, would they still have existed? Would they still have dramatically different views? Would some of these have been destroyed, would some have been assigned to a lower level of control? Would the Mules have taken full command despite their small numbers? Or would they have been obliterated?
I don’t have any of these answers, and I pray only that, whoever you are, whatever person—or assortment of people—follows me, that you do well, and that, as much as I want to feel my actions have purged this intrigue from our people, that you not follow my lead, that you rule only for a fixed amount of time…and that you share power widely.
I wish this from the deepest parts of me…but I do not believe it will happen, not at all. In my quietest, most thoughtful moments, I see only combat and battle, and I wonder if the Regent wasn’t as much a blessing as a curse. It is easy to assume that without it, I wouldn’t be in power…but it is nothing but a great wishful assumption to imagine that we would be better off, that we wouldn’t have simply fought each other, and perhaps destroyed each other. Or that we will not do that eventually, even if we are to destroy the Regent.
But I will not live to see that, at least. The destruction of the Regent, maybe, but the aftermath, the combat between our different groups, each struggling for power…that part will not come until I am gone.
At least I hope I won’t.
Cutter Research Compound (Home of the Mules)
Ten Kilometers West of Victory City, Earth Two
Earth Two Date 11.20.62
“Mariko, thank you for coming out here on your birthday, your hundredth birthday!” Achilles spoke, and he smiled. The whole evening seemed warm and relaxed, but Max knew well enough that the leader of the Mules was indecipherable to him. He’d learned to relax around Achilles, to a point at least, to assume the Mule leader was being honest with him, mostly because he had been, at least most of the time that had come before. The two men had worked well together, there was no doubt of that, but there were great differences as well. For one thing, Achilles showed no visible signs of age. Despite the fact that he was nearly sixty, he appeared no older than his late twenties. Max couldn’t say the same thing, nor anything close.
The Mules were the one portion of society he knew he didn’t control, not really. Not at all. They had complied with all his edicts, at least as far as he knew, but that was because that’s what they wanted to do…or at least what they wanted him to think.
“Thank you, Achilles…it has been a real pleasure.” Mariko spoke softly, and Max knew his wife was sincere, but also that there was a lot she’d left unsaid. She still loved him, he was sure of that, but she had tried for a long time to get him to step down, to allow someone else to take over…at least until perhaps ten years before. Max found the respite from her ongoing pressure pleasurable, but he also knew that it was a sign that his wife had just given up. She understood the draw of the power, the need imposed by the Regent’s presence, but she had been willing to allow someone else to lead them, to scrape out a few of their older years just for them.
And he hadn’t.
He told himself that was because there was no one else who could do the job as well as he could, and he mostly believed that. But he also knew he just couldn’t give up the power, not with the Regent out there, at least. If his side won, if the enemy was destroyed…then maybe.
That ‘maybe’ had been a definite ‘yes’ at one time, but he knew himself well enough, and he wondered if he even remembered what it was like not to be in control.
“It is our pleasure, Mariko. Truly.” Achilles spoke clearly, and Max believed him. The leader of the Mules, which he was, despite the lack of any official designation, was a friend, but Max knew Achilles had his own problems, especially with the younger Mules. Freya had been his challenge twenty years before, but her audacity had lessened with time, and the newer, younger Mules became his primary concern. Max ruled over them all, NBs, Mules, Tanks…but he knew many, especially of the younger of each group, opposed him outright. He also knew that his control over the Mules, especially, was based more on his friendship with Achilles than on any real influence. There were over seven thousand of the Mules now, and everyone one of them was smarter than him. He had long ago accepted the fact that the Mules were not entirely understandable to him, would never be, and that he had to rely mostly on his relationship with Achilles, and a few of the others, to maintain control. He didn’t like it, even less as time went by…but he’d come to accept it, at least in a manner of speaking.
Mariko held her smile, and Max believed it was legitimate. Despite the level of separation that had occurred between them, he believed he still understood her. She’d come to truly like Achilles, and the rest of those present, and he was glad. He knew his devotion to his duty had cost him some of his wife’s affection, but not all of it. The two of them slept in different rooms, and they mostly lived separate lives now, but Mariko had never made the slightest move toward a legal separation, and the two still spent all occasions together. Max figured Mariko understood that he’d had little choice, at least some of the time…but he was sad that his dedication to duty had come at such an expense to the woman he still loved, and who he believed still loved him.
He turned and looked at Mariko. She caught his expression, and she smiled. It was genuine, Max was sure of that, and he was grateful for it. The time would come, soon enough, when they were back to normal, when the massively expanded role of his office called again and pulled him away from his wife. But now, for a short while at least, they could be as they once were. He was grateful for any return of the older ways, any semblance of what they had once had together…even when he knew it wouldn’t last.
Worse perhaps, he knew it would be his doing, his actions that caused the change, as it had always been. But he didn’t see any other way…and he was losing the ability to differentiate between the real enemy, and his perception of it. Max wa
nted to destroy the Regent, had to destroy it, regardless of the cost…and he was determined to do it.
But, for the moment, he forced the almost ever-present thoughts away, and he enjoyed his wife’s birthday. He was still capable of scraping out a pleasant time, of living like a normal person…for a few hours.
* * *
“Achilles…we are losing control. You are losing it. It is happening slowly, more slowly perhaps than the same process among the humans. But you are ceding your command function. The younger Mules respect you, certainly, but they will not follow you blindly…not for much longer. At least not without considerable changes in policy.”
Achilles turned and looked at Freya. He was surprised that his relationship with the younger—though now almost as old as he was when she had opposed him, he reminded himself—Mule had endured so long, and had even expanded. And he knew she was correct. He was respected by all, probably the main reason he had maintained control over the entire, growing population of Mules for as long as he had. But he knew the warning was also essentially true, that if he didn’t do something, sooner or later, a portion at least of the Mules would rise up. He wasn’t sure what would be worse, most of the Mules rebelling against him, and forcing the situation…or an actual, more or less equal conflict between two sides, with consequences even his vibrant mind could barely conceive.
One thing he was sure of, however, was neither would be good.
“I know, Freya…we’ve got twenty years of new adults, six thousand of them, by far the most of our people, and they have never really seen the enemy. Yes, they know we’ve had a few scrapes with them over that time, and their intellects are sufficient to understand the threat. But, whatever one’s intelligence, something you haven’t seen, haven’t really engaged…can you truly understand the danger?”
“No. And I say that from my own experience. I knew of the enemy, of their presence and their strength when I was younger…but still, I didn’t truly understand their power. Not until they destroyed most of the fleet. I remember watching the ships return, counting how few there were, and what shape they were in. It is difficult for anyone to accept what they have not actually seen, and I believe it is nearly impossible for us. We are, unquestionably superior to the humans. I have never wavered on that view, but now I realize they are not our enemy. Not most of them, at least.” She paused a moment, and then added, “Not a majority.” She didn’t say anything else, but Achilles completely understood the correction. Some of the humans were probably enemies, and possibly more than he wanted to believe.
He paused for a moment, startled first by Freya’s support, and then by her last remark. He realized he’d come to appreciate and value her backing, especially since she still retained a level of control over the middle level of Mules. But the reminder that, at the very least, some of the younger Mules—by far the largest component of the species—were problematic, only added to his already present concerns. And Freya’s comment that the regular humans, however much he valued some of them, were in fact, inferior, only inflamed his already troubled views. He had come to value them, some of them at least…but there was no arguing against the notion that they were inferior.
And that meant, whatever his thoughts and feelings, at some point, he would have to take control…over the entire planet. He knew that, he had always known, but he hoped at least that the day wouldn’t come, not until the Regent was defeated…and hopefully, not until Max and the other Pilgrims were gone.
“I understand the problem, Freya, at least I think I do. Well enough, at least. But I am unsure how to proceed.” Achilles rarely admitted he didn’t know anything and doing it in front of Freya meant she had truly claimed a place in his inner circle. “The enemy is still out there, and I know they will return eventually, that they will threaten the humans and us, as one. They, at least, do not see us as two races. They see only a single enemy. And yet, I understand that the younger ones of our breed will be less patient, that all of my warnings, my urges, will eventually be insufficient to hold them back…from some type of move, even from outright rebellion.”
“I agree, Achilles. My years urge me to suggest that you focus on the enemy, that we defer our action against the humans, such that it may be, until our combined enemy is defeated—or defeats us. But the more time that goes by, the more I come to believe that the younger among us will not wait, that you will have to decide, not whether to face the true enemy, but to choose either to join your kind—our kind—against the lesser humans, or to stand against them, to divide our people into two sides.” She paused, for perhaps a third of a minute. Then she added, “And even with all of your age group, and all of those around mine…you will still probably command a considerably smaller force than the other side.”
Achilles just stood where he was and thought about all Freya was saying. She was correct, he knew, at least that he could expect few of the latest generations, the Mules born over the past twenty years, to side with him over their own. He was fairly certain he would retain the loyalty of his own class, the original Mules, and some, perhaps all with Freya’s help, of the twelve hundred of her grouping. But even with all of his people, and all of hers—more than he could count on—there were four times as many of the younger generation…and he knew he would fight to get any support from them at all, at least if it came to a serious division of the Mules.
“I would not say this to anyone, except perhaps you, Freya, as you are the only other Mule who has served in a true leadership role. I don’t know what to do…and I have thought about it in great detail.” Achilles looked at her, and in his expression, he knew she would be able to see the pure truth of his statement. “I just don’t know what to do,” he repeated.
* * *
“Hieronymus, thank you so much for coming.” Hieronymus Cutter had to come of course, anyone would when summoned by the dictator. But Harmon sometimes forgot that he was the absolute ruler of Earth Two, and that his mere utterance of a demand made it so. Cutter would have come anyway, he imagined, and he was very probably correct. Even if the scientist desperately wished to stay away, he knew he couldn’t.
“Of course, Max. Anything you wish.” Cutter was one of the group that Harmon always insisted call him by his first name. He’d had some troubles doing it over time, especially early in the years of Harmon’s reign of more or less absolute power. The group had shrunk as well, age and other factors contributing, but Cutter remained, almost as old as Harmon…and even more focused, and still-sharp. And he called the man Max, just as the leader wished.
Cutter knew he had been called to Harmon’s office for a reason, but whether he knew what it was or not was uncertain. The leader of Earth Two had no reason to hesitate in his efforts, however, and he just went headlong into it. “Hieronymus…I have a question for you, and I know it will be difficult for you to answer honestly. I assure you, promise you, that I have nothing but strong hopes that we continue to have a good relationship with the Mules, and certainly, at least, until the real enemy is beaten. But I fear that Achilles is losing his grip, at least on the younger Mules, and if they push to start something, to take over…or worse…I don’t know which side he will come down on.” He paused, just for a few seconds. Regardless…I feel we have to be ready.”
Hieronymus shifted uncomfortably. He was clearly divided, and unsure what to do…but that alone probably told Harmon most of what he needed to know. Finally, Cutter said, “I believe there is more turmoil in their ranks than there was before…but I do not believe it will become uncontrollable, at least not in the next few years.”
Harmon listened to the words, wondering how much truth there was in them, at least from Cutter’s view, and how much was purely made up. Hieronymus Cutter was one of his closest friends, but he was also the co-creator of the Mules, and Harmon knew he still had some loyalty to them. He had seen the difference, however, in the way the more junior of the Mules treated him. The older specimens still regarded him with deep respect, and he was sure they would ne
ver hurt him. Harmon was far less convinced about the younger Mules…and he suspected Cutter was, too.
“I will be honest with you, Hieronymus. Achilles is a close friend, and I believe he will maintain his position for as long as possible and will not seek to overthrow us. But I question his ability to hang on to the needed level of control for long enough. I fear that there will be a split among the Mules, that they will end up in two camps, with a difference in views that continues to grow. If it gets too far…”
Hieronymus leaned back, silent for a moment. Then he said, “I hope that is not true…but I cannot say it isn’t. I have been less prevalent in conversations, particularly with the newer Mules. They think less of me, or almost not at all. But I have considered what you ask, on my own, even before you inquired. I have to believe in the Mules, and I do. But I think they will have a difficult time in the near future.” He stopped for a moment and frowned. “Unless we discover the Regent’s location…or it finds us. And fairly soon.”
Harmon nodded, feeling strange about that possibility. He knew it was the one thing that would put any strife among his own people aside, and he’d done everything possible to find the Regent, searching hundreds of systems over the years…to no avail. And it appeared the Regent had fared no better in the hunt for Earth 2. But he knew one of them would one day find what they were looking for…any time, in a week, a month, or in twenty more years. It was the one thing that had pressed on him, the fear that had ruled him almost every second he drew breath. There was just no way of knowing if his people would find the Regent first…or if the enemy AI would find them. He’d spent the whole time building a massive fleet, far larger than the one that had been mostly lost twenty years ago, but he knew the enemy had no doubt been doing the same thing. He wondered what the Regent had managed to build, how likely it was that its forces would vastly outnumber his own…which as large as it was, was still constrained by the size of his growing, but still fairly small, population.