The Paratwa (#3 in the Parawta Saga)

by Christopher Hinz

  The spatial view disappeared; Van Ostrand reappeared. The Lion had never seen the Guardian commander so dazed and unsettled.

  Losef broke the silence. “A stupid sacrifice."

  "A tragic one,” murmured Inez.

  Van Ostrand cleared his throat and stared grimly at the Council. “The electromagnetic field ... it briefly expanded. Final data transmissions from the targeters indicated some unknown type of energy emission from that field..."

  "Anything left of our ships?” asked Huromonus. “Any possibility whatsoever that there were survivors?"

  "No. They were vaporized."

  The Lion thought about the three hundred dead crewmembers, tried to imagine what it was like for them in those final moments. Most would have realized that their chances of surviving an attack against the Biodyysey were nil. The sheer size differential between the minuscule targeters and the monstrous invader, and the fact that the Guardians faced technology of an unknown nature—those factors certainly would have fostered a collective sense that their mission was suicidal.

  Inez said, “Their bravery must never be forgotten."

  The Lion felt her words hit his psyche—rock against pulp—splattering a whole host of what he now knew to be self-delusions.

  How dare I even consider my own cowardice of any importance? I faced death and ran from it, then arranged for those three hundred men and women to sacrifice their lives for a greater cause.

  He felt his face reddening. He knew he had arrived at the true depths of his cowardice.

  I am ashamed of myself. I am ashamed to be the Lion of Alexander.

  And he knew that he would have to live with that personal disgrace for the remainder of his days. There could be no “forgetting,” no resigning guilt to the boundaries of his subconscious, where the displaced power of his shame could launch tentacles of emotional torment into the physical stream of his body. Denial served to split consciousness, divide intellect, emotions, and physical self into discrete entities. To remain whole, he merely had to recall the full impact of his humiliating cowardice. Such self-acknowledgment might serve to lessen his opinion of himself—he would forever remember his numbing fear at the hands of the Ash Nar—but in the long run, such insight would maintain his humanity.

  I am the Lion of Alexander. And I have been a coward.

  So be it.

  Newfound determination took root. It was time to implement the rest of their plan. It was time to take the offensive.

  "I believe we should ask Meridian to enter chambers."

  Losef, seeing no objections, keyed her terminal. A moment later, the black door opened. Meridian and his animals—one dog atop the other—entered Council chambers.

  The Jeek tway was outfitted in the same clothing that he had worn during his first visit to Council. The three-piece charcoal suit, the Eton-style jacket, the vest with its hook-and-eye loops made of precious jewels, the bloat hanging from his left ear, its power strands disappearing into the canal; Meridian: archetype of the primeval dandy. Today, however, he looked less friendly than upon his first visit to chambers.

  As he approached, the Ash Ock servant aimed a forefinger toward the door. His animals read their masters command; the poodle leaped from the borzoi's back and the dogs quickly assumed their “statue alignment” on opposite sides of the portal. Meridian moved to the far side of the table and halted beside Losef. “This unprovoked attack was incredibly foolish. Did you really believe that a mere fifteen tiny ships could hope to damage the Biodyysey?"

  The Lion perceived Meridian's words primarily as a challenge aimed at Van Ostrand. He glanced at the Guardian commander's multiple visages, saw brooding anger, suspected that Meridian's tactic was partially successful. Van Ostrand suddenly looked mad enough to throw his entire fleet against the Paratwa. That must not happen.

  The Jeek sighed. “Stupidity is always a waste. But it was anticipated that, despite warnings, you would attempt to probe our defenses. Now that you have satisfied yourself as to our invulnerability, we should be able to proceed with discussions."

  The assassin raised his arm and lanced it downward. A tiny beaming object—a corpuscle of light—leaped from his fist, smacked the edge of the table. A column of white luminescence sprouted into the air, enveloping the chandelier, then just as quickly decayed into a rain of colored dust. Falling motes coalesced into bundles, formed hundreds of petite floating cylinders. For the second time, the fully animated, real-time representation of the Irryan Colonies assumed its shape before Council.

  "Indeed, they are beautiful,” murmured the Jeek.

  No one responded.

  Meridian smiled. “Pick a colony. Any colony."

  "We prefer to engage in direct deliberations,” announced Losef. “We have no time for games."

  "This is not a game,” warned Meridian. “Please choose a colony.” He paused. “I might offer a hint. If I were you, I would pick a colony that you do not like. Select a cylinder that would not prove overly burdensome to lose."

  A chill went through the Lion. Here it comes.

  "The Paratwa do not want war. But events have occurred in the past few days, which have accelerated us toward the precursive conditions for violent conflict.” The Jeek suddenly spun to face Huromonus. “I understand that the Paratwa are being blamed for the decimation of the E-Tech archives?"

  Huromonus nodded. “That is correct. You should be proud. Your sunsetter has succeeded in destroying a good part of our human heritage."

  Meridian laughed. “An interesting lie. Blaming the sunsetter—which, I do admit, was ours—for the archival destruction is a most clever tactic. But then, not all of your fellow councilors were privy to these events."

  "I'm afraid we don't know what you're talking about,” said Huromonus calmly. “Your words would seem to be aimed at causing divisiveness within this Council."

  The Lion contained his own smile. We can twist the truth and spread lies just as well as you can, Meridian.

  "Your cleverness boasts an impressive girth,” offered the Jeek. “But let us test the depth of this proficiency. In other words, please pick a colony. Or would you rather I pick one for you?"

  Losef said, “It's your show."

  "I sometimes wish that was true,” replied Meridian, in a tone that seemed to reflect genuine sadness. He shrugged. “These days, however, I'm afraid that my actions are guided by other hands. One pays a price for one's allegiances."

  He extended his palm, closed his fingers around one of the inch-long holographic cylinders. When he opened his hand, the tiny gleaming representation seemed to be stuck to his flesh.

  He peered closely at it, shaking his head. “My colonial geography is rather poor. I do not recognize this particular cylinder.” He moved around the table to Inez, displayed his open palm to her. “'The Glory of Science'—La Gloria de la Ciencia—those dedicated to the limitless yearnings of logical achievement. As the representative of such a formidably titled organization, would you care to attempt an identification?"

  Inez avoided eye contact, gazed coldly into Meridian's extended hand. “It's the colony of Red Saxony.” She turned to the Lion. “I recognize it from the distended shape of its southern polar plate."

  "Most impressive,” said Meridian, closing his fist. When he opened it, the holo was gone.

  "In exactly one hour, if the Council had not yet agreed to our peace initiatives, a plague will be released within the colony of Red Saxony. This virus, an aerobic mutagen that is one hundred percent fatal to humans, will poison the air throughout that cylinder. I give you this advance warning so that you might warn those citizens. Bio or spacesuits—any sealed garment with its own air supply—should protect people from exposure.” A deliberate hesitation seemed to creep into his voice. “Naturally, those citizens should plan on remaining inside their suits for a rather long time. This virus thrives within various cultures and once it enters Red Saxony's atmosphere, I'm afraid there will be no painless method of decontamination. In fact, it will t
ake years before anyone again breathes freely within that colony."

  The Lion scanned the other councilors, froze his attention on Van Ostrand. Not surprisingly, the Guardian commander's images bristled with barely controlled fury.

  Meridian continued relentlessly. “One hour after Red Saxony gets the virus, we will pick a second colony for exposure. And one hour after that, a third colony. At that rate, in about nine days, all two hundred and seventeen cylinders will be contaminated.

  "But I suspect the Paratwa will not have to wait that long to achieve a lasting peace with the Colonies of Irrya. I sincerely believe that we can collectively reach an understanding before any cylinder needs to be contaminated."

  "Bastard!” snapped Van Ostrand.

  Meridian moved directly behind Huromonus and laid his hands on the E-Tech director's shoulders. Huromonus flinched.

  While the Jeek spoke, he softly massaged Huromonus's neck. “Some of you councilors already know the power of our plague. In fact, at least one councilor at this table has undertaken investigations into the cellular structure of what we refer to as the skygene virus. That person—especially—knows that we do not bluff.

  "A skygene suitcase has been hidden within each cylinder, primed to explode and send its poisons into the atmosphere. The Biodyysey can instantaneously trigger every one of these viral bombs. There is no way to block the triggering signals ... suffice it to say that the communication technology involves FTL-type transmissions."

  "Remove your hands from me,” ordered Huromonus with icy control.

  Meridian patted his shoulder and pulled away. “As you wish. I certainly did not intend for my physical contact to be offensive.” He leaned down across Huromonus's shoulder. “By the way, Edward—may I call you Edward?—we meant for you to find that particular skygene suitcase the repo freighter removed from the Au Fait Recycling Towers in Toulouse. That suitcase was put there in the first place precisely because we knew that the towers were scheduled for cleaning. In other words, the Paratwa wanted at least one suitcase to be found and studied. We wanted it to explode aboard that repo freighter. This was not done out of cruelty. The tragedy aboard the repo vessel was a contained event, with minimal loss of life—minimal compared to what may occur one hour from now in the colony of Red Saxony.

  "You were given an opportunity to study the skygene so that your best scientific minds would come to understand the power of our threat. Thus you, Edward Huromonus, know that we are not bluffing."

  Losef asked, “Is there truth in Meridian's words?"

  Huromonus stared at the FTL. “Yes."

  "Why wasn't the rest of Council informed?” demanded Van Ostrand. “Whose side are you on? What the hell kind of manipulative nonsense—"

  "Enough!” barked the Lion. “The only nonsense at this table is the kind being spread by this assassin."

  Huromonus agreed. “Events here are proceeding according to Paratwa plans. That is what is going on. I had good reasons to keep the discovery of this virus hidden from the rest of Council. And now is definitely not the time to discuss those reasons.

  "I would simply urge all of you to keep in mind the time-honored political technique known as ‘divide and conquer.’ Our emissary would appear to be greatly skilled in this tradition."

  Meridian laughed. “Guilty as charged. But I hasten to add that, within these chambers, I am not a lone practitioner."

  Van Ostrand hunched forward until his face filled the screens. “Be warned, Meridian—we'll never submit to these threats of yours. We'll fight you all the way!"

  Exactly what Meridian is trying to encourage, thought the Lion, with a touch of despair. The revelation that the repo freighter incident had been merely another aspect of the Paratwa plan was unnerving. We missed that.

  He hoped they had not missed anything else.

  With regal conviction, Meridian continued. “Please understand that the Paratwa are negotiating from a position of absolute military superiority. We are not making idle threats here. If necessary, we will destroy the cylinders. We will decimate you.

  "But again, we intend to do everything in our power to avoid the horrors of confrontation. We do not wish to destroy you. We truly desire harmony and a lasting peace with the citizens of Irrya."

  He stepped away from Huromonus, began circling the table.

  "In the coming days, the colonists will be asked to make some minor adjustments to their lifestyles. But by and large, the cylinders will continue to thrive and prosper. The majority of your social systems and institutions will be permitted to remain intact, including this Council, the Irryan Senate, and the ICN. We do not wish to destabilize intercolonial commerce. We respect the fact that delicate trade balances must be maintained. Even your freelancers will be permitted to continue their outrageous telecasts.” A faint smile touched the Jeek. “Providing, of course, that is what you desire."

  Inez muttered, “You're talking about slavery, pure and simple."

  "You will most assuredly have new overseers.” Meridian pointed to his dogs. “These animals are under my domain. On occasion, when necessary, they must adhere to my commands. But most of the time, they do as they please. They are quite contented.

  "I, Meridian, am not a god. The Paratwa are not gods. All living organisms possess overseers, whether consciously perceived or not. I have masters. I follow the dictates of those above me. Sappho follows the dictates of those above her. Even the overseers have overseers. It is a way of nature."

  "Cooperation of the fittest?” asked the Lion.

  For one piercing instant, Meridian met his gaze. Then the Jeek turned to Losef.

  "I beg of you, let us make the necessary arrangements for a peaceful coexistence. Let us put our hostilities behind us. Our terms are quite simple. You will formally announce to your intercolonial citizenry the nature of this viral threat that can destroy each and every one of them. You will announce that you are transferring control of the Irryan Colonies to a transitional team of Paratwa who shortly will be departing from the Biodyysey. Until that team arrives, I will function as their liaison.

  "All of your defense net military units will immediately surrender their vessels to representative forces from the Biodyysey. If we can agree to these basic terms within the next hour, then no skygene virus need ever be released. The brutal tragedy of a conflict, which you cannot win, will be avoided. And a new age of peace—for both human and Paratwa—will begin."

  Meridian's arm flashed downward. The holo churned into motes of dust, colors fading, disappearing.

  For a time, no one spoke. Finally, the Lion turned to Losef. “I contend that Meridian and the Paratwa are unabashed liars. Their falsehoods must be exposed, laid bare. There is a man waiting outside chambers who would like the opportunity to address Council. He is here to tell us the truth. With your permission, I will have him brought in."

  Van Ostrand scowled. Losef gave a slow nod.

  Huromonus keyed a command and the door reopened. Nick strode purposefully into the chamber. Passing between the dogs, he dropped a small plastique bone in front of each of them. The dogs did not budge.

  "You can usually rely on good discipline,” said the midget, hopping up to stand on an empty chair beside Inez.

  Meridian bowed slightly. “The Czar. We meet at last. I am most honored."

  "Howdy, Jeek. From my perspective, I can't actually say it's an honor. But I will admit that I'm going to remember the occasion for a long time."

  "I share your sentiments."

  Nick chuckled. “I doubt it. Still, that sounds like a nice and friendly attitude. I just hope that you can maintain your diplomatic mannerisms over the next few minutes as well. ‘Cause what I'm about to say might just get you really pissed off. Please try to maintain your cool."

  "I will make every effort."

  "Good. Then let's cut to the chase. Several councilors have been permitting me to listen in on this meeting..."

  Losef raised her eyebrows.

  "...And I've learne
d a lot. In fact, the last few days have been a real education. But not all of Council are aware of these events. So we'll start with a recap..."

  Nick began by outlining the incredible knowledge that they had gained from Freebird. During the presentation, the Lion kept his attentions riveted on the Guardian commander, trying to gauge his temperament as the story unfolded. Soon, Jon Van Ostrand would come to know how much their collective future was riding upon his actions.

  Nick related Aristotle's entire tale. He told them about the Os/Ka/Loq, and how Sappho had arrived on Earth in her probe ship, hundreds of years in advance of the Biodyysey, to ensure that the planet was destroyed in an apocalypse; how she had first created the earthly Paratwa within a kascht which possessed only the barest level of T-psionic force, a kascht which reeked of the lacking. He told them of Aristotle's betrayal of the Ash Ock. He told them of the century-spanning manipulations of Sappho, the purposes for the Order of the Birch massacres, and the reasons Codrus had been left behind in the Colonies.

  And, finally, the midget detailed the complex Os/Ka/Loq scheme to replace Earth's native organisms with their own unique tapestry of life. And he described the fatal flaw, which would ultimately doom the Paratwa plan.

  "The Apocalypse happened pretty much according to Os/ Ka/Loq designs. The majority of earthly life was wiped out in preparation for reseeding. But the Os/Ka/Loq—Sappho in particular—screwed up with the Irryan Colonies. We weren't supposed to survive. Millions of human beings weren't supposed to retreat up to the cylinders while the planet was being consumed by nuclear and biological madness. In fact, we can thank the foresight and perseverance of some of our ancestors—those brave humans who worked hard to guarantee that the cylinders escaped destruction and prevented Paratwa infiltration."

  Nick shrugged. “Still, all things considered, it wasn't Sappho and the Paratwa who brought the human race to the brink. We were already plunging toward the edge—the Paratwa merely gave us a well-timed push. Even without their help, the continuing dehumanization of our species—the subjugation of human passion to the twin gods of profit and progress—probably would have sent us tumbling into the abyss sooner or later.