Age of Unreason

by Scott Ciencin

  I don’t know about that, Carol thought. But then, I know so little of these people….

  Tanek stopped before Bart and Carol. “Your roles are quite simple, and, unfortunately, dictated by ancient prophecy. Your plaything here, this thin little male, is to help us decipher one section of the prototype’s plans that will allow the construction of a null field, rendering this device useless to all. Your Soloman will help configure that device. And you, Abramowitz, will assist in the ritual of Unity, in which the Varden and the heathen Nasnan will put aside their differences and at long last become one.”

  “What about the prisoner?” Carol asked. “His name was not given in my report, but he is a Federation citizen, and his release—”

  “That is negotiable only if it can be proven that he is not a murderer. Otherwise, he is subject to our laws and punishments. If your Federation attempts to interfere or intervene, there will be war between Vrinda and all your allied races.”

  “Then…who is working to prove his innocence?”

  Tanek stared at her blankly.

  “Who defends this man, who seeks to uncover the truth?”

  He merely frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t follow. His fate is in his own hands. He does not show remorse. He does not show elation at the kill. This makes him a Hollow, a killer without a soul. As of this moment, his guilt is proven in our eyes. He does nothing to defend himself. Why should that burden be placed on us?”

  “You were about to commit genocide. He stopped you.”

  Tanek continued to stare uncomprehendingly. “What of it?”

  * * *

  “Their passions run wild, they’re more animal than human, their ritualization, the foundations of their culture, is based on madness.” Carol stared down at the ugly mess she had been served as a late dinner. Bart sat across from her in a huge, empty room that looked like a mead hall of ancient Vikings.

  Bart looked equally displeased with the stew of guts and other unmentionables bubbling before him. “Their species has achieved warp drive, but it seems more for the purpose of conquest and colonization than peaceful exploration and the expanding of cultural and intellectual horizons. Yet there is something here, something about them, that offers a promise that they might embrace reason, they might ascend beyond their aggressive mind-set, just as humankind and so many other races did long ago.”

  “There’s more to this. So much more than has been revealed.”

  “I agree. The identity of the prisoner, for one. Why would Starfleet keep it a secret from us?”

  Carol set down her ladle. “I don’t know.” She rose from the table. “But now seems as good a time as any to find out.”

  “What about this ceremony? You are to officiate, yet—”

  “It can wait,” Carol said, storming away.

  “Carol, it’s this time tomorrow!”

  She slammed at the wooden doors to get the attention of the guards posted on the other side. “Then by this time tomorrow, I’ll be ready.”

  * * *

  It took until dawn for Carol to negotiate an audience with the prisoner. By the time she was taken to his antiseptic steel chamber eight floors beneath the keep, she had come to wonder if she had somehow passed from one state of reality to another. The design of this underground prison was patterned after one used on a dozen war-worlds, and there was no trace of “medievalism” to it. Every cell on this, the lowest level, was empty, save one.

  A man sat in the bright recesses of the cell. Tall, dark-haired, haggard, but possessed of a sly smile and a near-boundless reserve of contempt.

  Martin Mansur. Her hated rival.

  “What took you?” he asked.

  The guards left her with him, an invisible wall of energy separating them.

  “So,” Carol said, “it’s a question of scandal.”

  Martin’s smile was as smug as ever. “Even you can’t think things are that simple and straightforward. Not after being around these people for any length of time.”

  “You’re an important symbol for Starfleet. So far as most people are concerned, you teach independence, existence without self-limitations. You and I know better, but that’s not the point. So what are you doing here, anyway?”

  Martin eased himself back against the wall of his cell. It was lit by some inner fire, just like the floors and ceiling. His clothing was white, pure, just like the sheets on his cot and the waste disposal device set discreetly in the corner.

  He laughed, taking in her discomfort. “Why am I here? Um—because I got caught?”

  “You know what I mean. Why did you come to Vrinda in the first place?”

  “Well, you know what they say. You’re only as good as your last big triumph.” His smile faded, but only a little. “It’s been some time for me. I have competition. I’m not about to retire, not at my age—”

  “So you were out to prove something,” Carol said.

  “Again, things are not so simple.”

  “A man is dead,” Carol said. “Did you kill him?”

  Martin said nothing. His expression didn’t change. He was too well versed in neurolinguistics to reveal himself in any way through conventional body language. There would be no looking to the left when he was lying or looking to the right when he was telling the truth. No concealing of his thumbs to indicate he was concealing other information. None of the thousand “tells” that she knew so well, which also made her a lousy choice for a poker-playing partner…and a cynic when it came to human nature.

  “All right, I’ll ask another question. Why disrupt the natural order of a world that isn’t even Federation aligned?”

  “Why? That’s simple enough. If your skills were as sharp as you say they are, there would be no need for explanation from me.”

  Carol barely had to think twice about it. “This is all about your standing in the community. Your fame. That’s all you think about.”

  “Oh, but you do go on. The question is, are we really so different? Is the life you have the one you really wanted, or just your way of dealing with disappointment, of trying to be someone, anyone, rather than owning up to your failures.”

  “You mean when I trusted you.”

  “Exactly. Look at the basis of the work you claim I took from you: Trust no one, depend on no one, but yourself.”

  “Yet here you are, depending on me.”

  “No. Here I am, knowing full well that you will follow the dictates of your nature—that you are weak. You were afraid to go forward with your findings. Left up to you, they would have sat in a drawer all these years. Even now, you don’t have the courage to own your own mistakes. You have to have a ‘bad guy.’ Your weakness is your enemy.”

  “Maybe I was wrong in what I believed,” Carol said.

  Martin gestured expansively. “Maybe you were. I never said I agreed or disagreed with your notions, only that I felt they had merit. In other words, profitability. A universal enough statement that those in need of a moral compass, those, like you, who are weak, would seize upon in droves. And in that, I was correct.”

  Carol nearly staggered under the weight of the sudden realization that struck her hard and fast. “You don’t care if these people go to war. You don’t care if they all die.”

  “I ‘care,’ as you put it, in terms of how it will affect me. This prison is proof from the weapon they’ve created. None of the ghosts can enter here. And if they employ any of the conventional weapons they already possess in mass quantities, I’ll also be safe from the blast and radioactive side effects.”

  “But you’ll starve.”

  “Not at all. I could leave this cell and get to the mess any time I wish.”

  Carol didn’t bother to ask how this was possible. “You knew they’d send me.”

  “I was counting on it. I knew that if I canceled my appearance at the conference, you would be en route there when this situation turned critical. That would make you the only likely choice.”

  Carol’s anger was boiling over. “Why?”<
br />
  “It’s a win-win for me. If you succeed and help this ceremony of joining to go off without a hitch, if the null-field device is installed, and so on, I will be given a slap on the wrist by Starfleet for my actions, but lauded publicly as the savior of this world. If you fail, you’ll die, everyone dies, but me. I lose nothing either way. I only stand to gain.”

  “I could kill you myself,” Carol murmured. Even as she spoke, she was shocked that such a thought would cross her mind, let alone leave her lips. Hadn’t she seen enough death on Galvan VI?

  Again, Martin smiled. He had goaded her well. “You could. But you won’t. Too weak. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a paper I’m writing in my head, and I really must keep on schedule.”

  With that, he sat on his cot, closed his eyes, and tuned her out.

  Chapter

  5

  “I’ve been in touch with Starfleet,” Bart said. He walked with Carol through an elegant hedge maze in the keep’s enormous central courtyard. A trio of guards—two women, plus the bulky Alhouan—trailed at a respectful distance. An hour had passed since Carol’s visit with the prisoner. “By this evening, the Sugihara will be standing by to beam us out of here if we raise the alarm.”

  Carol frowned. “And Martin?”

  “The hope is for a diplomatic solution to secure his release, obviously. But if he is indeed guilty of this murder, things become a bit murky. The Federation doesn’t have any jurisdiction here. Even if we decided to throw protocol out the window, scans from previous vessels show that a transporter beam can’t penetrate to the underground level where he’s being kept, and sending in an extraction team could touch off an incident that would be…unfortunate. Particularly with these people being in possession of a technology that absolutely baffles the top minds in S.C.E.”

  “You transmitted the schematics?”

  “No, I simply described what the device can do. Martin had the chance to do so but elected not to. I suppose he had his reasons.”

  “He always does.” She shuddered. “Have they shown you the plans?”

  “Only passages that have been copied from the original. Menzala Trivere was a genius on every possible level. His linguistic encryptions are among the best I’ve ever seen, and that was nothing but a sideline to him. Still, I’ve already cracked some of the code, and I’ll have the rest in time, I’m sure.”

  “Is the Sugihara going to be able to back us up on planet?”

  Bart shook his head. “Again, this is a delicate situation. Farhan Tanek authorized the intercession of three outsiders, and he has made it clear there will be no more.”

  “Their scrolls…They must have a library here. I’ll need to see it.”

  “I doubt they’ll allow that. They’ve been bringing items to me, and to Soloman, on a need-to-know basis.”

  Carol hugged herself. “Then I’ll tell them, what I need to know is all of it.”

  “I think you would have to put on quite a display to get anything accomplished in this place. And there are other concerns…”

  “Assassins who can pop up anywhere, anytime? We can’t touch them, but they can hack us up into bits?”

  Bart swallowed. “Right. Yes. That. Not so graphic, though, the way I would have phrased it.”

  “We should each have one of those devices Tanek was wearing.”

  “I’ve already suggested it to Soloman. He’ll do what he can.”

  They navigated the remainder of the maze in silence. Every now and then, they passed laughing couples on benches, groundskeepers, or small gatherings of guards.

  Any of them, Carol thought, any one of them could be a killer. Any one of them might be real…or an illusion. Tanek, what were you thinking when you approved the development of this technology? We can, therefore we should? I can wipe out my enemies? Then what?

  What about your new enemies, your new rivals? How can you hope to control or contain a thing like this?

  It was madness. As Ian had so perfectly prophesied, a true age of unreason.

  * * *

  Three hours later, Carol was hunched over the small table in her quarters, reading one of the scrolls that had been approved for her viewing. This was insane. She couldn’t possibly learn all that she needed to know in the narrow margin of time allotted to her. Did Tanek want her to fail? His paranoia would destroy them all….

  Or she could go see Martin. He had been on this world for well over a month. She had questions and he could certainly provide the answers. But could he be trusted? Naturally not. It might amuse him to give her some measure of truth mixed with just the right amount of lies to make her falter at a crucial moment in the ceremony.

  Did he really care so little about the lives of others that he might do such a thing? Or was she allowing her own emotions, her feelings about what he had done to her, how he had broken their trust, to command her?

  Rubbing her eyes, she leaned back and wondered if that might be the case.

  “Excuse me,” said a rumbling voice.

  “Gah!” Carol shouted, nearly falling out of her chair. Alhouan stood before her. Or did he? Was he real, or a projection? She hadn’t heard him come in.

  “I need to talk to you,” the guard said.

  Carol nodded slowly. “Ah…there’s a custom on my world. In the part that I’m from. We shake hands every time we see each other. A little odd, I know…”

  “You want to be sure I’m not a phantom. I would, too, given the circumstances.” He held his hand and she shook it. His grip was firm. Carol felt her body relax, then immediately tense up again as she remembered the doppelgänger sitting upon Tanek’s throne, and how he had been solid to the touch when he willed it. This was no test at all.

  Maddening.

  “You are doing nothing to learn the truth about the killing,” Alhouan said.

  That startled her. “I thought you and Tanek and all the rest had already decided what was true.”

  “No matter. The man being held is one of your sect. For that reason alone, his welfare should concern you.”

  “I don’t have the time to play detective, all right? It’s out of my realm of expertise. After tonight, if all goes well, I’m sure Tanek will allow Federation investigators to come and examine the evidence and attempt to build a defense, if one is warranted.”

  “Not so. There will be an accident tonight. When you are at the ceremony, the accused will meet with misfortune. It has been decreed.”

  Carol stepped away from the table. “By Tanek? By—what do you call them? The highborn? Your council?”

  “It has been decreed, and it will be done. Unless the truth is uncovered in time.”

  “And what if the truth is that Martin killed that man?”

  Alhouan was rock steady, and his silence filled the room with a fiery fury. His upper lip twitched and he said, “Blood calls to blood. And ‘that man’? He was my friend. If the betrayer below did not kill him, then the guilty party will be able to rest easy after tonight. Unless something is done.”

  “So tell other people. You can’t just leave this in my hands.”

  Alhouan’s gaze narrowed. “Everyone else knows.”

  Carol stared as the man turned his back and left her chamber.

  How could she stop this? How could she possibly play her part in the evening’s events, while also preventing Martin’s murder. Was she supposed to be in two places at once?

  Then it came to her: Perhaps that was exactly what she would have to do.

  * * *

  Carol entered the wide, opulent throne room where Tirza Sirajaldin paced like a caged, mad animal. The man was wiry, his head shaved and littered with tattoos, and he wore a scarlet robe with strips of deep blue in the form of lightning bolts. Jade jewelry adorned his flitting form: rings, bracelets, even a gleaming headband. His boots scraped along the stone floor and he held a golden goblet in his hand.

  “They seek to mock me,” Sirajaldin said.

  “Sir, my name is—”

  “I know wh
o you are. The pawn.”

  Carol’s ire rose at that one, but she held her composure.

  “They keep me here, in the seat of power of my enemy, as if to rub my nose in what I may see, but never have.”

  “Then power’s all you’re after, too?” Carol asked. “As leader of the Nasnan, I would have thought your position somewhat different, at least based on what I’ve read.”

  “Even this goblet is Tanek’s!” Sirajaldin screamed, hurling it across the room, shattering a glass statue. Carol found herself reminded of the glass of brandy she broke on the Lionarti.

  Sirajaldin stood before an open window, golden sunlight streaming in, clutching at his form with its searing fingers. Finally, he hung his head. “Power is not what I want. Control is what I’m after. The right to live my life as I choose.”

  “Isn’t that what tonight’s ceremony is all about? A peaceful accord between former enemies? Freedom to live as you wish?” Carol crossed her hands behind her back. “Or am I not the only pawn in this game?”

  Sirajaldin faced her. “Ah. The enemy of my enemy must be my friend. So that’s what this is. No, I wouldn’t count on any such thing if I were you.” He nodded at the rafters. “They are listening, you know. Watching and waiting. Devices so small, one couldn’t possibly see them with the naked eye.”

  “Then they already know who killed the scientist.”

  Sirajaldin shook his head. “They know all save what is in your heart and mind, and that is what maddens them. That is why they manipulate, that is why they ritualize emotion. What they seek is truth, and to them, the only truth is what you feel.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “He was intelligent enough to evade their devices. In point of truth, he may have designed many of them. There are no records of what went on in that chamber. All that is known from surveillance in the hall is that Martin Mansur entered the chamber, fled shortly thereafter with the schematics, and delivered a communications device to Tanek’s advisor.”