The Hundred Worlds

by J. F. Holmes

  With a mental shrug, he untied the string and ripped the paper open. Inside was a simple, sturdy cardboard box. He opened the lid and looked inside. There was a piece of paper with print on it.

  He looked at it closely. It was a newspaper clipping from the colony newspaper that detailed Governor-General Petron-Navarro’s upcoming tour of the colony next week, a few of the sites he’d be visiting on his inaugural inspection, and how this was done via a traditional open-topped Karan garnah-drawn carriage. He read it twice, puzzled. He then looked in the box again and froze. Inside the box was a Karan-style pistol, similar to what the army used. He looked at the pistol, then at the clipping.

  He thought over what the encrypted site had shown him—a detailed route through the city, and a time—now there was a person and an event. He reached into the box, gently picked up the weapon, and with a thoughtful expression, checked the magazine. The weapon’s action worked perfectly, the cha-chick of the slide sounding like a crash of thunder in his quiet apartment. He slowly nodded, smiled distantly, and, concealing the magazine and the weapon under his robes, turned out the lights.

  SEVEN –VISITORS

  Juan sat at his desk, reading a report from his intelligence section about their suspicions of the movement of thousands of Karan Imperial troops disguised as migrant workers and ore transit workers in order to pre-position them for a strike on the city.

  He sighed and scrawled a note in the margin. “The evidence is thin, but even if it’s true, what of it? It’s their world, and their troops. Continue to monitor.” He tossed the paper into the outbox and picked up the next. This was another intelligence report on suspected Karan Secret Police infiltration of the native population of the colony, with the assistance of the Karan colonial herd leader.

  He sighed again. Colonel Antigua, his chief intelligence officer, was a good woman, but deeply and thoroughly paranoid as only a career UN security agent could be. He initialed the paper and set it down. He selected another one. This one was from the space elevator operations chief about the vulnerability of the elevator cars to sabotage, and suggested several reasonable, low-cost security measures.

  Juan considered this, then wrote in the margin. “Approved. Will these be enough? That elevator is our lifeline. Recommend further research into vulnerabilities.” He set the paper into the out box and placed his fountain pen in the holder. He glanced at the antique clock on his desk and noted that it was nearly eleven. He smiled and straightened up his desk for a moment. He intercom chimed exactly at eleven. He tapped the control.

  “Yes?” his assistant answered from the outer office.

  “Sir, Bishop Navarro is here.”

  “Send him in,” Juan responded, and smiled. He came out from behind his desk and waited. After a few seconds, the door swung open silently and Bishop Esteban Navarro entered, followed by a large man. Both men were clad in their traveling vestments, with the man behind him clad in the simple black garments of a parish priest. His flame-red hair and height should have made him loom over the Bishop, but he moved as silently as the man’s shadow.

  Juan moved forward, taking the man’s hand and pressing it to his lips. “Your Excellency. Welcome to the Karan Research Mission. It’s an incredible honor to have you.”

  The man smiled broadly, as Juan straightened. He placed his hands on Juan’s shoulders and looked him up and down for a moment before enveloping him in a bearhug. “Juanito! It has been far too long!” Juan returned the hug, grinning widely. After a few moments, they broke the hug and Juan stepped back.

  They regarded each other for a moment more, then Juan broke the silence by snapping his fingers. “Not a moment more will my own brother stand while I can offer hospitality! Please, Esteban! Sit!” He motioned to the chairs and moved toward the drink cabinet. “Your drink still whiskey and tonic?”

  Esteban grinned broadly, and replied, “Indeed it is, albeit more tonic and less whisky, of late. The hours of this position are long, and I fear the reason we’re here will leave us all with little enough rest.” He gestured to the large, silent priest standing politely near the second chair.

  Juan sighed theatrically and moved toward the man. He offered his hand. “Please, do forgive his excellency. He’s always been terrible at introductions. Juan Petron-Navarro, at your service.” He grasped the man’s hand and was surprised at how gentle his grip was, despite the size.

  The man smiled. “Michael Collins, at your service, Governor.”

  Juan smiled broadly. “Ireland? I spent some time studying in Cork while I was in school. Lovely country.”

  The man grinned and spoke with an American accent, “Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. I get that a lot. I think it’s the hair.”

  Juan laughed. “Well, Michael from Pennsylvania, my apologies, and welcome! Some time we must speak of the natural wonders of the Free States. Please, have a seat. Drink?” Michael shook his head, declining, and sat down.

  Juan moved back to the minibar and began to mix drinks. After a moment he returned and, handing his brother his drink, drew up a third chair so the men were seated around the small table. He raised his eyebrows as Esteban sipped his drink, and nodded cheerily when he made an expression of approval.

  “You like it? There’s this concoction here the Karan use for an herbal remedy for sore throats. It does nothing for us humans, but makes a marvelous tonic. Isn’t it wonderful?”

  Esteban nodded. “It is lovely, as is the colony and this world. A beautiful place. ” He leaned forward, set the glass on the low table, and frowned slightly. “Juanito, I fear I must turn to business. The holy father and the Conclave have made a decision. A diocese is to be established here. It will be the Holy Diocese of Karan, and will be dedicated to bringing the ministry of Christ to the Karan. There will be a new bishop, new parishes, everything. The first ever established to minister to a nonhuman race.” Juan nodded. He’d been expecting this, as the missionary priests had all advised it, and had even been requesting to petition the Karan Imperial Government for permission to leave the colony.

  His brother continued, “There are…concerns, however.” Juan sipped his drink and inclined his head. Esteban said, “The Holy Father has spoken to his connections in the UN and his ecclesiastical advisors across the Hundred Worlds. He’s concerned about the possible political destabilization of the relationship between the Karan Imperial Government and the United Nations.”

  Juan nodded and replied, “I’m inclined to agree. There’s deep resentment about our presence here amongst the natives. I’m sure you saw some of the damage from the riots on the way down the elevator.” Both of the priests nodded somberly at this. Juan paused and took a sip, then continued, “There are also Karan internal divisions that are simmering below the surface. The faction we’re allied with are from a cultural subgroup that was repressed by the Imperial Government for many decades, even after contact. They were held in poverty and a state of repressed technology, and are deeply resentful of Her Majesty’s government.” He gestured out the picture window toward the colony below.

  “We suspect the riots are being instigated by the Imperial government, but to what end, we cannot know. Perhaps to force us to crackdown on the Karan here to prevent them from acquiring technology, perhaps to keep our forces occupied, or perhaps merely to punish the Karan here by proxy. We cannot know.” He paused, then continued, “There’s also a strong suspicion that there are dissidents amongst the scientists and colonial support staff, who are leaking technology to the Karan of all factions.” He swirled his glass gently, watching the deep amber liquor flashing. “All that aside, there are also economic instabilities that plague both the colony and the entire Northern Continent. It’s a very complex situation.”

  Esteban nodded and grimaced. “We read the reports. Regardless, the Holy Father wants a diocese established, with the provision that it may be—indeed, must—prepare to be cut off from Rome for a very long time.” Juan raised an eyebrow at the statement. The older priest continued, “He was
quite insistent that the traditions of the Church be maintained, even if the Karan leave the UN sphere of influence.” He paused and added somberly. “The fact that they are sapient beings with souls and haven’t received the word of Christ is most troubling to the Holy Father, and he’s directed the Curia to make the establishment of this diocese a top priority. What the UN does politically is not our concern. We’re not in the interstellar politics business. We’re in the salvation business.”

  The Bishop motioned to the burly priest next to him. “Father Michael is going to oversee the establishment of the diocese, and ensure that it’s…robust enough to withstand political upheaval. Not exactly underground, per se, but definitely with hidden components. He has…a skill set that may come in useful.” Father Michael smiled, and slightly nodded.

  Juan thought this over in silence. If there were to be trouble, having reliable clergy to give guidance to the colony could be invaluable. He looked up at his brother. “Very well, Esteban. How can I help?”

  Esteban pulled a data stick out of his robes and handed it to Juan. “This is a list of what we’ll need to get up and running. Personnel, facilities. Funding won’t be an issue; all funding comes through the church. We’ll also need to get Father Michael up to speed as quickly as possible, as he’ll be staying here with the new cardinal when he arrives.”

  With a slight frown, Juan replied, “They aren’t letting you stay?”

  Esteban shook his head. “I was selected to be the front man. The man to set the table, so to speak. I’m here to oversee establishment of the administrative structure and the framework. When it’s ready, Rome will send a cardinal. Space travel is not for old men, and life on the frontier less so. I must be ready for them when they arrive.” Esteban grinned. “I am, as of yet, expendable, little brother. Rumor has reached Rome that there are other new species out there, and they will need a headstrong bishop to lead the charge.”

  Juan shook his head. “God’s wonders never cease.” He paused for a moment, then said suddenly, “Gentlemen, tomorrow, I’m scheduled for the ceremonial tour of the colony. There are some Karan ruins in the area that are nearly three thousand years old! Perhaps you would like to accompany me?”

  Esteban and Michael exchanged an amused glance, then Esteban replied, “Juanito, wherever you wish to go, I will go as well, little brother.”

  Juan clapped his hands together once and said in a firm tone, “Then it’s decided. Tomorrow, we shall tour the colony, and I’ll have the pleasure of introducing you to the Karan. A toast!” The men raised their glasses, and Juan thought for a moment. “To the Karan, their safety, prosperity. and health!” They clinked their glasses together and drank.

  EIGHT – FOREBODING

  Herd Leader Ki’Taran stood on the rocky beach, waiting. The air was cool, bordering on cold. The sky was overcast and grey, with a gusty wind whipping in from the ocean. He lost himself in the motion and sounds of the rough sea, whipped by the fall winds. Quish’na stood not far away, patiently waiting. There came the footsteps crunching in the distance, then a female Karan came to stand beside him. He glanced over, expecting to see the emissary to the queen and his daughter, Misha’a, but was surprised when he saw Akaran’a, her deputy. The female Karan was clad simply in a travel robe and belt, with her hair and fur neatly done in the style of the capitol.

  She gazed at the tossing surf and wind-whipped waves for a moment before speaking. “Misha’a was right. It is lovely and dangerous.” Ki’Taran nodded, returning his eyes to the sea. The woman continued to speak. “The Emissary sends her apologies. The situation is rapidly evolving in the capitol. The dissident groups made another attempt at a power station last week, and then attempted to seize a wireless broadcast station to spread their message. There was also an attempt on the Quira Province defense master’s life. All unsuccessful, but nonetheless, the activity level is telling. ”

  Ki’Taran frowned deeply and said thoughtfully, “Indeed. They’re getting bold. More so now that they think they have allies.”

  Akaran’a nodded in agreement. “They are. The Southern Continent is ripe for another rebellion. The discontent over the tech dispersal has never been soothed, and the dissidents have broad popular support.”

  “I know. I was there during the last rebellion, when you and Misha’a were but hatchlings. It was bad then. It’s worse now; now we have an external enemy. If the UN sees us as divided or that we appear weak…” His words trailed off into silence.

  The female Karan smiled coldly. “They won’t rebel. There are, shall we say…measures in place. The survival of our species depends on our appearance of unity. The dissidents don’t understand that, but they’ll be brought to heel by whatever means necessary. Her majesty specifically requested that I remind you of that.” She turned to face him, her voice hard and flat. “Do what you must to keep the peace, Ki’Taran. We cannot go against the UN. Not yet.”

  Ki’Taran nodded. The Emissary turned back to the sea, and after a moment, said in a conversational tone, “What of this religious leader who just arrived?”

  With a shrug, he replied, “The research we have on the church itself is voluminous and confusing. Historically, it vacillates between horrific acts of religious violence and great acts of self-sacrifice, if the situation requires it. It can destroy civilizations that oppose it, and has provided interim governance in the wake of civilizational collapse. It’s a study in contradictions. It’s as confusing as the humans who comprise it.”

  He paused, watching a seabird swooping by, then continued, “This man is a medium-ranking official in the Church, but comparatively young, fifty or so of their years. We’re relatively sure he’s related to the governor-general, but we don’t know. We suspect they may have been from the same hatching, or near enough.” He paused again, considering. “Based on their history, it’s hard to tell why they would send a younger religious herd leader. Perhaps he’s considered expendable, like the missionary priests we’ve known since contact. Then again, perhaps he’s here to stay and expand their presence. We don’t know.”

  The Karan diplomat nodded thoughtfully. “Well, that’s good enough for now. You’ll meet him tomorrow, correct?”

  “I will. We’ve been invited by Governor-General Navarro to attend the inaugural colonial review. It’ll be a good opportunity to meet him in person. The route isn’t being published for fear the dissidents will use it as a sign that we’re a puppet government for the UN.”

  The older Karan paused, thinking. “It might be a good time to roll out a major policy or technological innovation to demonstrate our independence. ” He idly folded his hands on his ventral shell for a moment, then smiled. “And I believe I have just the thing. We’ve been working on a joint Human-Karan security force for some time now. It may be a good opportunity to announce it publicly as the new face of Human-Karan cooperation in the Karan Scientific Research Colony.”

  Akaran’a laughed gently. “Is it real?”

  Ki’Taran gave her a reproachful look and replied, “Of course it’s real. It was your defense master’s idea. He actually said, and I quote, ‘If we know where the squishies are, we can get our fists on them faster when it comes down to bare-shell brawling’.” He paused. “Political incorrectness aside, he’s not wrong, so we put together a proposal and planned to roll it out in a few months. Might as well announce it tomorrow.”

  He turned and motioned for Quish’na, who’d been politely waiting out of earshot. “Quish’na, how fast can you have that speech to roll out the combined force proposal ready?”

  The young Karan blinked, then thought about it for a moment before replying, “If I start now, I can have it ready for your final review by tomorrow evening at the latest.”

  Ki’Taran nodded. “Go. Get it ready. I’d like to give it tonight after the governor-general’s post-inspection speech. Also, please convey to the governor-general that I wish to accompany him on his inspection tour, as is the custom.” Quish’na bowed, turned, and headed toward the
street. Ki’Taran turned back to Akaran’a.

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t give the dissidents any more rationale to stir up trouble, eh?” He reached out and cordially took Akaran’a’s hand. “Enough of this for the moment. How is your lovely mother?”

  Quish’na walked quickly toward the street, his mind racing. He summoned a cab, which arrived by the time he’d made the short walk up to the street. He climbed in and absently tapped in his office as a destination, then sat back to think.

  He knew what he had to do, what the cause needed him to do, but how? With the herd leader there, how could he commit such an act? He thought about this for a moment, then heard a chime from the taxi console stating he’d arrived at his destination. He looked around, puzzled, trying to get his bearings. The buildings looked like he was downtown, but not at his office. The door popped open automatically, and a human woman got in and sat on the wide seat across from him.

  She regarded him coolly, then punched a destination in, and the cab began to move. She crossed her legs and leaned back, regarding him as if she’d never seen a Karan before, then said, “You’re Herd Leader Ki’Taran’s aide. We suspected it might be someone in his office, from the intelligence you fed us, but others weren’t so sure. I have your final guidance for tomorrow.”

  “Yes, about that…” He leaned forward slightly.

  She raised an eyebrow. “Cold feet?”

  Quish’na’ leaned back and regarded her, puzzled. “What? I don’t know what that expression means.”

  The woman laughed without mirth. “It means losing your nerve. Backing out.”

  Quish’na shook his head. “No, I just found out the herd leader will be on the inspection tomorrow. We can’t get the governor-general without risking him!”

  She laughed. “Is that what you’re worried about?”

  Quish’na looked puzzled and replied, “Well…I was…right up until you laughed. I guess you have a plan?”