by Jay Allan
Achilles stood on the plain, looked out at the ship. He had already decided to build the new city, the center of future Earth-2 society, there. It was only sixty kilometers from the destroyed metropolis, and he knew there would be less cleanup required somewhere farther away. But he had decided that it would impress the people more, that it would feed their views of their victory—and whatever the cost, it was a victory—if they rebuilt as close as possible to their old home. But now, none of that was on his mind. He had sent for Mariko, and he was walking now, alone, to the ship. He had to see Max Harmon, one more time. He didn’t suspect that his friend had anything particularly useful to say to him, anything that would impact the almost unimaginable amount of work he had ahead of him, but he just wanted to speak with him, one last time.
He reached the ship, returning greetings from the crew, the people who had saved Earth-2 even more than the thousands who had served—and died—aboard its fleet. He was struck by how few of them there were, but then he realized that not many more had survived from the war fleet. He was still awaiting the final tallies from there, but at least eighty percent of the warriors had died, and if Harmon’s force had suffered ninety percent, well his mission had been even more desperate than the defense of Earth-2.
He climbed inside, and he made his way to the sickbay. He had known that Harmon was in terrible shape, that he had been close to death, but the last message he had received suggested that he would never leave the ship, that he would die soon, in a matter of hours.
He walked into sickbay, and he looked around. The beds were all full, and there were at least as many wounded on the floor or in chairs. But his eyes fixed almost immediately on a door, and he moved toward it.
“Achilles…” The sound wasn’t familiar, but he realized that was one side effect of only having only one name…and no formal title. There was nothing else to call him, whether you were his best friend, or just another spacer wanting to report something. But he ascertained who it was almost immediately.
“Captain Leigh…I can’t say how much we all owe you. Your success in a mission most considered impossible, cannot be spoken of with high enough regard.” His voice was sincere, and while he wouldn’t quite admit that he had been one of those who didn’t really believe there was much chance, he acknowledged it to himself.
“Thank you, Achilles…but I think you’d better hurry.” She clearly knew why he was here, and the expression on her face told him all he needed to know. “Very well, Captain. I sent for Mariko, his wife. Might you look for her, and admit her when she arrives?”
“Yes, of course.” She nodded respectfully. Achilles didn’t know what Leigh’s opinions were, politically, or specifically about the Mules. But she was respectful enough, and he was sure that all of them, Mules included, would rethink their viewpoints now, at least for a while. He knew the troubles would return when the new city was built, and when a new fleet was launched, but he figured that would give him a least five years, and maybe ten, and that was enough time for…everything he had to do. But right now, he had come to see his friend.
He had come to say goodbye.
He stepped forward, waiting for just a few seconds before he touched the button, and opened the door. He stepped inside, and for an instant he was afraid he was too late, that his friend was already dead. But then he heard the sounds of breath, and an instant later, “Achilles…it…is…good to…see you…my friend.” The words were soft, barely audible.
“Max…I can’t believe your mission was a success. You were right, all along.”
Harmon looked over at him, turning his head, though it clearly hurt. “Our people…will…survive…” He paused for a moment, and then he continued, “And…you will…succeed…me.” He coughed, three times, and then he sucked in a shallow breath.
Achilles heard what his friend had said, and he was simultaneously surprised and…not surprised. “We will have to see what happens. I’m afraid we are very disordered right now, but…” He had been trying to come up with something to say, but Harmon interrupted him.
“Come on…don’t…lie to…me…” He turned his head slightly more, staring right at Achilles. “You know…you will…rule…and so…do I. The…people want a…say…but right…now…we need…a firm…authority.”
Achilles stared back at Harmon, unsure for a minute what to do. Finally, he just nodded, and said, “I hope I can do as good a job as you did.”
“You…will do…better…” Harmon moaned softly, and it was clear he was in pain. “Achilles…I wish…we had…time to…do…more, to…discuss what…you were…going…to…do. But all…I will…say…is…” He struggled for a moment, and then he continued, “…do what…you feel…is…right. You…are a…Mule, but…you care about…everyone…I am…sure of…that.”
Harmon turned away again, and he went silent. It was clear he had said what he had wanted to, and it was clear he knew he didn’t have much time for more.
Achilles sat, silent, surprised at the clarity of Harmon, despite his weakness, and the obviousness that he was going to die, very soon. He was still silent as he heard the sound of Mariko approaching, and he didn’t want to take any time from them.
“Max…you have been an astounding human being, even if I—and everyone else—has been too foolish, too self-centered to realize it. I promise you, I will do whatever is possible to lead the people—your people—whether Mule or Tank or regular humans…and I will see that your memory is preserved, that all who objected to you, who didn’t understand the reasons you clung to power, learn the truth.”
“That is…only…the partial…truth. I…clung to…power for…that purpose…but also…also…because I…had to…I wanted to.” Harmon’s voice was still soft, though it had grown a bit louder for the last part. And Achilles could hear his friend was on the verge of tears.
“What I said is the truth, Max…and it is the truth everyone will hear. You are a hero…and that is what your people will hear, from me, and whomever follows me.” He was silent for a moment, but he knew Mariko was waiting. “Goodbye, Max.” It was all he could think to say, and he ached more at his friend’s imminent death than he had imagined.
“Goodbye…Achilles…”
He turned and nodded at Mariko, who had clearly been crying. Her two daughters—Max’s as well—stood behind her, silently standing, looking like they were barely holding it together.
Achilles walked out of the room, nodding silently as she stepped inside. He paused outside the door…and he closed it, leaving Max and his wife and daughters to have a few moments to themselves.
A last few.
* * *
Achilles turned and looked out at the small group he had assembled. There were several Mules, his own closest compatriots, but he had also ensured that there were Tanks and regular humans present as well. He had reminded himself to always include all of the personality types, whether he was or was not curious what they had to say. That sounded cold, perhaps, but he realized that the Mules were going to be right, if not all of the time, in almost every instance. But he could at least pretend to listen to the others, to consider their opinions more seriously than he had in the past. That, at least, would make things easier, at least for a while.
The purpose of the meeting today, however, the reason he had invited the people, had nothing to do with the future. It was to bid farewell to a friend. Max Harmon had died the day before, after speaking to him, and talking with Mariko…and it had hit him hard, much harder than he had expected. He had always liked Harmon, even when he had disagreed with him…but now that he really considered things, he realized that his friend had been wise, very wise. He wasn’t a Mule, of course, but Achilles realized that he had run things about as well as could be expected…even as well as he, himself, could have managed.
“I want to thank you all for coming. I know our society is a mess, that we have to rebuild almost everything…but we do have sufficient food stores and other necessities, and they have mostly endured th
e fight in the various depositories. Assuming our opinions on the Regent are correct, that its subordinates are restricted from taking any independent action, we will ultimately reign supreme. That will take years, to rebuild our homes and our fleet, and even longer to hunt out every planet the Regent had built on, and to destroy it. But our ultimate victory is all but assured, and I will say that the credit for this, while it goes in part to everyone who fought, who built arms, who survived in the bunkers—and who died there—is most of all for Max Harmon. Our leader for essentially our entire time here on Earth-2, he had generated distrust, even hatred, among the population, but I will say this…he led us well, and to ultimate victory. So, before we go any further, whether you always supported him, or whether you were pulled into disliking him, even plotting against him, raise your glasses now, and drink to him. Whatever his faults, whatever his limitations, he brought us through a fight that lasted decades…a fight that claimed him in the final battle. And I am not sure anyone else could have done it.”
He meant every word he said, and he was sure many of those present, most probably, agreed, at least on some level. At least all of them grabbed their glasses and raised them before drinking.
He sat silently for a moment, peering out at the attendees. He legitimately wanted to pay tribute to Harmon, but he found it impossible not to move forward, at least a little. He suspected that the population was currently battered enough that they would accept him as their leader—especially since the Mules controlled most of the automation, and even the food, that remained. But he was concerned, not so much about six months in the future as six years. He was determined to maintain full control, but to at least appear to share power with the others.
He looked around the table, saw his closest confidantes. Callisto, of course, and Themistocles…and Freya, who had once been his opponent, but who now basically followed his every word. And Theseus, as well, the closest thing to a leader among the younger Mules, and almost an enemy, or at least an opponent. Achilles was sure he would argue at times, object to his efforts to make the others feel that they were an important part of the government machine…but he was fairly certain he could handle him.
He turned, his eyes moving to H2. He sympathized with him, mostly a Mule, but not quite. He knew H2 had long suffered from distractions, from an uncertainty whom he should support. But his close associates among the regular humans were all very old, and they would be gone in the next ten or twenty years. Achilles didn’t know whether the Mules, and H2, were immortal, or whether they just had long lifespans, but he was almost sure they would live for hundreds of years, if not thousands. And he assumed that once H2’s human friends died, he would move closer to the Mules. He was not quite as capable, perhaps, but he was vastly superior to the regular humans. He decided he would intervene if necessary, make a place for him among the Mules.
Then he saw Mariko. He had always been fond of Harmon’s wife, and he had sympathized with their troubles. He was glad she had made it to see him, and though he had given them total privacy, he was fairly sure they had made up. She was sad, very sad, and he told himself not to forget about her, to provide her some kind of comfort in her waning days.
He turned again and saw Hieronymus Cutter and Ana Zhukov. The two creators of the Mules, the only humans every one of them respected utterly, were also old. Achilles knew they would die, perhaps in ten years, certainly in 25 or 30…and they would decline rapidly, their immense abilities fading as age took them. He found it hard to adapt to accepting the extremely limited life span of regular humans, especially those few that were truly important to him. Cutter and Zhukov weren’t even part of their own race to him. They were special…but soon enough they would be gone. Worse, perhaps, Connor Frasier had been killed in the battle, trying to evacuate survivors from one of the shelters. Cutter hadn’t known Ana’s husband all that well, but he could see in her eyes the pain he knew would never go away.
There were other losses, besides Harmon and Frasier. Devin Cameron had died as well, leading the Marines in their efforts to protect the people of the city, to help them survive. And, of course, Nicki Frette was not the last on his list, not even close. She had shared his control over things, and though her death in the battle actually simplified his first steps…he still wished she had survived.
He looked out over the table, realizing it had been a long time since he had said anything. His mind had devolved into thinking of those present—and those not there. But now, he stood up, and he raised his glass again. “I think Max Harmon would have done this, would have wanted it done, even in a get together for him. To the future, a time we will have, that we very nearly didn’t. A time we will always owe to Max Harmon…and to the thousands of others who gave their lives, in this battle, and in the ones preceding it.”
He took his glass to his lips, and he drained it…and everyone else did the same.
Epilogue One
Cutter Research Compound II (Home of the Mules)
Twelve Kilometers East of New Victory City, Earth Two
Earth Two Date 07.10.248
“Have you told any of them yet, Achilles?” Callisto moved into the room, as quietly as ever. Achilles had been deep into his work, but she hadn’t surprised him, not this time.
“No…not yet. I expect half, maybe more, of them will be thrilled. We have managed society as well as we could, but many of the Norms still resent us, even so many years later. Still, I figured it makes sense to wait. We still have our own preparations to complete, and I figured there was no point in upsetting things any sooner than we have to. The transit point is almost active again, and in a month, perhaps a bit less, our people will be able to venture through, to rejoin their long lost cousins. That is exciting—and dangerous—even without us. I have been working on creating a class of the Norms that can lead. We have ruled them for 185 years, and despite some problems, we have done well. But it has become clear to me that our system does not work, at least not eternally. I have kept many of our advancements secret, introduced them only at a speed I feel the Norms can handle, but still, it has been difficult. With our own numbers fixed, for almost one hundred fifty years, we have gone from a small minority to a tiny elite. I do not believe that will end well, if not in the next fifty years, in a hundred, or five hundred, when we are an even smaller segment of their population.”
Callisto nodded. “You know I agree. A hundred eighty-five years ago, I believed differently, that humanity under us would excel…and it has, to a point. But we are rapidly approaching that time. We must separate. If we had more of the First Imperium’s genetic material, the ability to create many more of us, perhaps it would be different. But with sixty-four thousand of us…next to nearly half a billion Norms…it cannot last. By sheer power, we might be able to endure, to maintain control for a considerable time…but to what end? And what if there are untold billions beyond the gate?”
“We have all agreed, all of the Mules. The fleet will proceed through the point, they will explore what is there, what kind of human culture has survived, or prospered…while we will go out into deep space and explore. I have considered taking some humans, volunteers, with us, but I have decided against it. They can only end up as slaves, or close to it, and they will be better off with their own kind. We have plenty of automation to survive, even to prosper, on our own.”
Callisto was silent, for a few seconds. Then she said, “You do realize, there will be Norms that want to go with us, rather than stay here or go back to the old humanity.”
“Yes, I do…that is one reason I haven’t told any of them. We can leave, and some will be surprised, even upset. But they will get over it. I have been considering this, as you know, for a long while, and it is why I have fostered a group of Norms to take our place…to become the new leaders. We should have done this long ago, left the humans to their own future and blasted off into space, in search of…whatever. They don’t realize yet, that they will take command, but they will…and soon.”
�
�We will still watch, of course…right?” Callisto rarely didn’t know Achilles’ opinion, but on this she sounded uncertain.
“Yes…we will. But we will not interfere, not unless they expose themselves to outright destruction. We know there will be sides, wars, that the humans will fight each other endlessly…but we will not interfere, not unless it appears they will actually destroy themselves.”
“I agree…and I am curious, too, to see what we will discover out there.”
Achilles turned and smiled. “I am, too.”
* * *
“I wanted to wait until the last moment to announce this. As you now know, the Mules are leaving, we are heading out into space…on our own quest, searching the unknown. Your people, almost half a billion, will be rejoining with your origin, presumably billions of people, maybe even trillions. My people’s place with you is gone, and we have no further use, not in leading you. It is your future that you must pursue, and all of you, the eleven assembled here, will be the new leaders. You, Stanton, you are the descendant of Max Harmon. And you, Regina, you are descended from Connor Frasier and Ana Zhukov. I know you know the names of your ancestors, but I actually knew them…and I cannot tell you how incredible they were. How amazing you can all be as well. I realize that you have not been in charge to date, that you have followed us, but now you will take your new positions, your new authority, and rejoin the other humans. Step forward, and see what the future holds for you, even as my people do the same. In time, the Mules will just be memories, and those will grow weaker as the years pass…but everything you do, the way you exert control over your people, and the methods you utilize to reintegrate with those on the other side of the gate, will build your history. Go now, find your own way forward, even as we do.”
The assembled humans still looked surprised, even though they had known since the day before that the Mules were leaving them. It had been an operation of almost unprecedented secrecy to prepare for it, but 64,000 wasn’t really a large number of people. They would bring all kinds of equipment with them, of course, plus a fair amount of automated assistance, things they had developed but not shared…and they had constructed their entire fleet in secrecy. The main battle fleet, over ten thousand ships strong, along with every other known resource, would remain behind, under the control of the humans. They would return to their people, as the masters of over one hundred worlds and half a billion population, and whatever happened, whatever struggles, conflicts—or peaceful reunification with those beyond the gate—they could handle that themselves.