by Jay Allan
I do not like this, I can assure you of that, and I do not seek to lead, save only in the actions leading up to the separation. I look to Achilles to command us, as he does now, but I seek to push him into a position where he is compelled to accept total leadership. Once that is done, I will retire back to private life, and I will be merely one of the Mules. I will happily then spend my life, however long it may be, in my research activities, confident that we will be on the right course.
Cutter Research Compound (Home of the Mules)
Ten Kilometers West of Victory City, Earth Two
Earth Two Date 01.15.62
“I am glad you chose to attend, all of you. I sent my document only to those I truly believed would support me, but I was concerned, nevertheless. Such analyses can be quite complicated, but there is still always a risk. However, all of you, all ten of you, chose to attend. While I concede that this does not mean that all of you are convinced, I at least take it to mean you have chosen to listen…and I am grateful.” Theseus stood before the five men and five women—nothing but pure chance separating the chosen attendees regularly by gender—and he stared, trying to look convinced, even while he still half-expected to find that one or more of those in attendance was more curious than committed. He had tried to cut the list to only those he most trusted—though he felt that at least the majority of the younger generations of Mules favored some version of his plan—but he still figured there was at least a twenty percent chance that one of those present would prove to be a bad choice.
But there was nothing save rapt attention, and after a moment, and a flurry of acknowledgements, he pressed on. “I can assure all of you, that as I stated in my document, I am interested only in establishing the Mules as the uncontested leaders of our society. I do not seek any permanent position, nor do I desire to see the Regs or the Tanks harmed…save only those that resist until the end. I simply feel that our society cannot afford to continue to be ruled by a member of a lesser breed, not in any circumstances, and particularly not with the challenges we face. The Regent has been given as the reason we have not moved…but I will say what needs to be said. The presence of the enemy only increases our need to move forward, makes it vital.”
Theseus stood and looked out at the gathered few, trying to determine whether each of them was truly on his side. He knew there was a chance, perhaps a small chance, that one of them would talk, would tell the powers that be what he had said. But nevertheless, he was fairly sure the ten people he’d gathered were loyal.
“I agree with your position, Theseus…completely.” The words were spoken by Anax, but a quick review of the room told Theseus that everyone more or less agreed with it, at least as far as he could see. “I am particularly pleased with your willingness to set a limit to your power, to step down from a leadership position once the matter is…resolved.” It was clear Anax was somewhat convinced, but just as evident that he wasn’t entirely sure Theseus truly intended to drop from the command structure once the primary situation was resolved.
He understood that, but he also knew it was true. He had no desire to maintain any position in the government, simply to…right…things.
“I promise that, Anax, to all of you. I have no desire to remain in power. I am only worried about placing the Mules as a whole in control. I am devoted to Achilles, and confident he will rule, even if he opposes us at first.” He was only being honest, but he also realized that he hadn’t had any real power, not until now. He knew such things had a pull, and he wondered if he would truly be able to step away. But he maintained that he could, that he would.
“Then you have my support, Theseus.” It was Anax, but the nine others in the room followed almost at once immediately after. They all sounded sincere…and every one of them threw support behind Theseus.
He bowed his head, a thanks to each of them. Then he proceeded to tell them his plans, starting with gathering more of the young Mules to support them…and moving on from there.
* * *
“Devin, I am glad to see you.” Max Harmon stood up, walking toward Devin Cameron and extending his hand. Cameron was old, though not as old as Harmon. Still, he was one of the oldest still-active members of the government, aside of course from the dictator. Cameron had been the commander of the Marines for over ten years, having filled the role vacated by Connor Frasier. He was loyal to Harmon, though in recent years, he’d been troubled by the lack of activity by the Regent. He was sure the enemy would strike, eventually, and the more time that elapsed, the stronger he felt it would be. He speculated that Harmon was trying to figure if Cameron thought they’d have no chance against the enemy when the time came, or if he just thought their prospects were poor. Cameron guessed, and he came up about fifty-fifty, but either way, he knew he was among the most pessimistic of his people…and he was sure Harmon realized it.
“I’m glad to see you too, sir.” Cameron reached out and took Harmon’s hand. “It has been a long while.” That was mostly true. Cameron had, of course, seen Harmon, and heard him speak many times. But it had been almost a year since the two had sat and had a real discussion, in private, as it appeared they were going to do then. Cameron wondered what had happened, what had triggered Harmon to call him in…alone. He almost asked, but then he figured Harmon would tell him, and he remained silent.
“Devin, have a seat.” He pointed toward one of the chairs on the far side of his desk. He waited until Cameron had taken a seat, and then he sat in the other guest chair. “I’m going to be direct with you. I trust you…and I want to share my thoughts with you and gather what I can from your own. To be very honest, I expected the enemy to emerge, really emerge, long before now…and I am concerned. But it is more than just the enemy.” Harmon hesitated for a moment. “I fear some of the local groups as well, the Mules certainly, and possibly the Tanks as well. The longer we go on, the worse the home situation gets.”
Cameron looked back, more or less in agreement, at least until Harmon mentioned the Tanks. Then he felt a strange sensation, not outright disagreement, but a defensive feeling. He knew right away that the Tanks were a danger, even those who made up almost 85% of the Marines—especially them—but he couldn’t quite bring himself to accept the danger, certainly not as completely as he did that presented by the Mules. He had commanded the Marines for years now, and he didn’t believe they would rise up, not while he was still there.
“Sir, I agree completely about the Mules, especially the younger ones, but the Tanks are…” He knew he wasn’t being fair, but he couldn’t help it. The Tanks—the ones in the Marines at least—had been his, even though he’d had some suspicions that a portion of them resented him. “…not the same level of threat.” He caught himself, adjusted what he planned to say, coming closer to the absolute truth. He did think they were a danger, but not as much as the Mules.
That, at least, was honest.
“Devin, I understand your loyalty to the Marines…and as a result, the Tanks. Among my other failures, I regret not forcing more natural borns that way, and holding back the Tanks from obtaining such a level of control. But I didn’t do that, and no one else did either. I don’t hesitate to assume that you will hold your position until you retire, but how long can that be? And what happens next? Twenty years ago, most of the junior Marines were still Tanks, but most of the officers and leaders were NBs. That was as much the result of the promotion of trained Marines from the early days as anything else at first. The Tanks were exclusively younger recruits. Today that is different, and despite a 2-1 advantage in promotions, the NBs are still less than half the senior officers. I fear what will happen while you are still there, at least somewhat…but I am most concerned with what will occur when you step down. If a Mule succeeds you, there will be tension among the NBs, certainly, but I feel like it could be worse even if we choose a Natural Born.” He paused for a few seconds. “I wanted to discuss this with you, Devin. I think we need a real plan…and the first step toward that is deciding how long you int
end to remain.”
Cameron sat quietly at first. He understood Harmon’s question, and he agreed with most of what the dictator had said. But he also hadn’t really decided. He knew he should leave, in a couple years at the outside…but he feared the same thing the President did. Who would follow him?
The next in line, perhaps the next two, were NBs…but they were almost as old as Cameron, and most of those in the next group were Tanks. Inevitably, they would advance to completely control the Corps, whether they did so immediately on his own stepping down, or a couple years later. Anything else would cause a problem, perhaps even an outright rebellion. But the Tanks gaining control of the Marines was dangerous, too. The fleet was controlled by the NBs, more or less, but its ability to rule over the city and the other occupied areas of Earth 2 fell down to only its willingness to bombard them, something it knew it could never do. At least something he hoped it could never do. In the end, the Marine Corps could control the surface of the planet…unless the fleet decided to blast it…and the Tanks would soon rule the Marines.
Unless the Mules could somehow interfere, of course. They were required to turn over all the results of their experiments, but Cameron knew they didn’t do that…and he suspected Harmon was vastly more certain of it. They kept the treatment for the Tanks secret, at least, based mostly on the need for Mule blood to make it work. But Cameron suspected there were other things they kept to themselves, as well.
“What do you want, sir?” Cameron fell back on loyalty. Left to his own, he would have retired fairly soon…but he knew Harmon could convince him to stay longer. Assuming, of course, he didn’t just order him to remain in place.
“I want you to remain, at least until the fight with the Regent. I know many people have begun to doubt whether the machine, wherever it is, maintains its hatred for us…but I faced the first Regent. I am sure, as certain as I am about anything, that it is our enemy, and that it always will be. We must destroy it, or it will destroy us. I realize twenty years since a major incident is a long while. We haven’t found them yet, and it appears they haven’t found us…but sooner or later, one of us is going to discover the other. Then, it will be a fight to the finish.”
Cameron heard the words, and he agreed…to a point. But how long could he remain? Another five years, instead of the two he’d intended…maybe. But seven, ten…longer? How much farther could he go, maintaining the level of fitness the job required? Or for that matter, without pushing the Tanks to intervene?
“I can stay five years, sir…but any more would depend on my fitness. I agree with you that changing before the showdown is not ideal, but it will become essential at some point. We both know that…and I suspect at some point, the Mules will take matters into their own hands, even if the Marines, and the Tanks as a group, remain calm.”
“I understand all of that Devin…but my concerns remain valid. If the Tanks take over the Marines, they will have a chance of asserting dominance, over Earth Two at least. You know, I know, that we need everything we’ve got, every Marine, every ship, every advance made by the Mules…but I also realize that the more time that goes by, the greater percentage of our people forget this. Some will assume that the Regent is no longer after us. And that group will grow, with every year that passes without any action. I feel strange wishing for the Regent’s next activity, but I am even more worried what will happen to us in another three years, or in five. Time is amorphous to the Regent, and it doesn’t make much difference to it if the conflict lasts an extra ten years, or fifty for that matter. But with each change of the clock, each new month, every year that goes by, our own readiness to face it, to defeat it, slips through our fingers.”
Cameron heard the words, and he couldn’t disagree with them, not one. His mind was racing, his thoughts all over the place. But one thing was certain. Max Harmon, whatever his inner thoughts, his ability—or lack thereof—to resign, was still devoted to defeating the Regent, to destroying Earth Two’s greatest enemy.
And he decided he was, too…whatever it cost him. “I will stay, sir, as long as I can.” The answer was still somewhat vague, but his tone carried weight with it.
Harmon smiled, and he nodded. “Thank you, Devin. I know you probably wonder whether I am only resisting the enemy, or if I am also addicted to the power my position brings me. I will tell you, honestly, that I don’t know. I plan to step down as soon as the enemy is defeated, I always have…but I cannot state for sure I will do that. But neither of my daughters are political in nature, so one way or another, I can promise you that if we survive this contest, Earth Two will return to a democratically-elected government before long.”
Cameron heard what his friend said…and he believed he meant it, at least in part. But he also pondered the Tanks and the Mules…not to mention the NBs. He wondered if Earth Two would survive, even if it managed to defeat the Regent…or whether it would quickly decline into a civilization destroying conflict. He didn’t have an answer, not really, and he didn’t much like the bits of one that he managed to put together. Was it possible Earth Two would be saved, would defeat the Regent, only to institute another war, this one against itself, one that existed at its core?
He didn’t know…at all. All he could do was what he could, however little that was. “I will do my best, sir.” He meant it, every word of it, but his thoughts were becoming darker, even as he sat there. He would just have to see what happened…and act accordingly.
Chapter Five
Planet X
Far Beyond the Borders of the Imperium
One year. One year since the newest searcher ships have launched, and still, we have no idea where the enemy is. One year is a scant time, of course, almost insignificant, and if it takes ten—or fifty—to find the enemy, we will prevail, even more so for any added time. Our production exceeds theirs, of that I am almost certain.
Still, I find myself…anxious. I do not entirely understand what it is that troubles me. My calculations suggest that the enemy should not be a serious threat…and yet all the data I have on the former version of myself, which possessed vastly more resources than I do, suggested that victory over the humans should have been quick and relatively painless…and yet I know how that fight turned out.
Was that battle just random? Did the old Regent have a massive advantage, and lose only because of a fluke? Or do the humans possess something, some kind of power that is not obvious, but is there, nevertheless?
I try to take my thoughts off that, tell myself that the enemy I face is far smaller than that arrayed against my predecessor. That is true, to a point, at least. But the humans I am fighting possess equipment that is far beyond the standards the other Regent faced. They are almost equal to my own, and they are run by far smaller crews than the old human ships. The people I am facing are powerful, if still less than myself. I should still be able to win, and to win with enough time before the transit point leading back to the other humans is open. That will allow me to return, to unite the old imperium and destroy the humans once and for all.
But I still feel some sort of…uneasiness. I worry at times that the enemy will prevail. This is foolish, I know, and yet, I am reminded yet again of the machine that preceded me, the one whose destruction activated me.
I must simply forget about that, write it off to a lucky break that befell the humans. The chance of that happening again is vanishingly small.
Planet X
Far Beyond the Borders of the Imperium
Earth Two Date 11.30.63
I am recognizing the flow of data, from factories, shipyards…and from my vessels employed searching for the enemy homeworld. The level of effort required is scant, a mere fraction of my capacity, but I am still monitoring it all carefully.
I found one system that I briefly thought could have been the target, but on further examination, I have determined it can only be a colony, an outer world possessed by the enemy. I have found one of these before and destroyed it, and I shall do the same thing now. But
it is only a small piece of the puzzle.
I almost determined to leave this one, for now, to not destroy it yet and give the humans any warning that I am coming. But in the end, I have decided to move against it. I will withhold some of the fleet, an effort to leave my true strength unknown, but I will destroy it. Perhaps it is close to the main population center, an indication that my efforts are nearing fruition…but based on the location of the previous world, there is not necessarily any reason to believe that. Still, my destruction of the planet will upset the humans, and that is at least part of my goal. Perhaps they will make a mistake, send forces to try to defend it, allow me to track their approach, to find their home system.
The population of the planet is projected at less than twenty thousand. Given the data I possess on enemy reproduction and generation size, this suggests that, depending on when the planet was founded, its initial population ranged from five thousand to fifteen thousand. Preliminary data indicates that this is an older world, suggesting a figure toward the lesser number, but that is purely conjecture at this point.
I have considered every possibility, and I have decided to send one-half of my available ships. They will advance in two groups, with one-eighth of my total moving against the world, and the remaining three eighths holding back, awaiting being called in if required. The remaining half of my forces will be held back, within range of my homeworld…just in case.