by R. J. Leahy
"I was born more than seventy standard years ago. My daughter Aramis is two decades your senior. You seem still a child to these old eyes, but then, age, as in all things, is relative. You have experiences beyond my reckoning, and in the art of war no one on Ararat is as adept, I feel. It is why I agreed to place you in charge of our defense.
"So tell me, as general of our newly combined forces, do you think we will be successful against those who would destroy us?"
Jeena hesitated. She had been in too many battles to ever feel comfortable predicting their outcome.
"It will be difficult. We are vastly outnumbered, and they have had a long time to prepare, but with a little luck I think we can make Jacob regret his decision to attack Uruk."
"Good, for I am a firm believer in luck, General Garza—or perhaps fate is a better word. You see, I believe it was fate that brought you to us.” She sat on a bench and motioned for Jeena to sit next to her.
"Fate?"
"Yes, for I recall now why you seem so familiar. I have seen you before, many times. I have seen your face in my visions."
Jeena smiled.
"You do not believe in visions? But of course not, you are a Union soldier, a pilot, a woman of science. You have no time for such nonsense."
"Something like that."
The regent laughed. “You are blunt, that is good. Time is too short for banter, and your arrival here, at this time, begs many questions."
Jeena shrugged. “Ask me anything."
"In truth, I know quite a bit about you already. I know you were raised in an orphanage, and that you joined the Union Star Corp at a young age. I know something of your military career, and of your escape from the Coalition prison world."
"Then you've pretty much got my whole life right there."
"No. What I have is a scaffolding, a structure that frames a life. I have placed the very survival of Uruk, and perhaps of the entire Confederacy, in your hands. Before I can feel comfortable with that decision, I need to know what that scaffolding holds."
"I suppose I can understand that, but what more can I tell you?"
"The information I am looking for I do not believe you could supply,” she replied cryptically. “However, there is a method that would tell me much, if you will allow it."
"What method?"
"Do not be alarmed. It is a skill developed long ago and passed from mother to daughter through the long ages. All events in our lives leave patterns, emotional imprints on our subconscious. For those who have the ability, these can be read almost as a series of vignettes, and their emotional importance understood."
"Jacob warned me you could read minds.” But I'd hoped he was crazy and you weren't. I still hope that's the case.
"Did he? I would call that too grandiose a claim. Let us say, rather, that I would be viewing brief glimpses of the important events of your life."
She's serious. She really thinks she can read my mind. How do I answer that? I suppose it wouldn't hurt to humor her—after all, she is the head of government here. Still, I don't really have time for this silliness.
"Think of it as humoring an old woman, if that makes it more palatable. I promise not to keep you long,” the regent added, as though already reading her thoughts.
Jeena sighed. “Very well. What is it you need me to do?"
The old woman placed a bony hand on the back of her head, at the base of her skull.
"Only relax. Close your eyes and allow your thoughts to wander freely."
Jeena complied, anxious for the whole thing to be over. Why were these people so worried about religious omens when there was a war to be fought?
Presently, she became aware of a slight tingling at the point of contact between her and the regent. It was not an unpleasant feeling, and she felt herself relax more fully in the old woman's grip.
* * * *
Elaina closed her eyes and concentrated intently. The technique was unpredictable, and no two people responded exactly the same. It was best to simply open oneself completely, although that often held its own dangers.
Soon, she felt Jeena slump in her arms. A moment later, she became aware of dim images, shadows that seemed to flitter across her internal vision.
But they did not come easily. It was as though, even in her unconscious state, Jeena's mind was fighting the intrusion. Elaina pressed further. The first fuzzy images flitted into view.
A vague birth memory, distorted and fleeting. No answers there. Wait. Here was something—no sign of a mother-bond. How unusual. Was she abandoned? Did the mother die during the birth? Frustratingly, the images vanished, and new ones appeared. Her first, early years. No, far too fragmented to be useful. Shame—they often yield so much information.
Now she was in the Union Home. There were children—many children—coming and going, and Elaina could sense their separation from Jeena. A horse she saw. Yes, Noah. Noah was his name.
She caught glimpses of men and women—lovers, and yet she knew Jeena felt no love for them. There was her first taste of battle, and Elaina relived the terrible beauty of an enemy destroyer exploding in a phased plasma field.
She pressed her fingers more firmly against Jeena's spine. There was an explosion, and suddenly she was floating in a great ocean. A ship. Horror and death. Then she was on a planet, cold and dim. Distorted faces laughed and mocked her. Pain. Humiliation. Rapes and beatings that seemed to go on forever. There was the cry of a newborn infant, and Elaina knew the terrible truth.
The old woman sighed. So much pain. So much suffering in a single lifetime. The desire for the sleep of death is strong in this one. It is a wonder she is still sane.
She girded herself and pressed on.
She was in another ship now. Fire and flames. Fear as she plunged into an alien atmosphere. Then a new sun rose, and she looked upon it. Ararat, yes. The images began to fade. A last figure, unclear and flickering, suddenly appeared, wavered for an instant and was gone.
Her heart leapt. It was not the image of a man she saw, but of an animal—and the animal had a name.
Samson.
Excited by her discovery, the old woman had begun to withdraw and end the session of the Nihn-Psi when she became aware of a locked chamber in Jeena's mind. It was as though the girl had barricaded some part of herself from the rest of her subconscious, in a place so deep Elaina doubted even Jeena herself could access its contents. It was a mental defense—a wall—of a kind the regent had never encountered in all the minds she had touched, and she could not resist the temptation to glimpse what lay behind.
She bent her will on the barrier, using all her strength against it until slowly the wall began to crumble. Sweat poured from her as Jeena's unconscious mind fought the intrusion. Finally, a tiny crack appeared. Elaina gazed into the opening...
...and screamed.
Chapter 22
The goal of the Shimhatu training is nothing less than the absolute control of the mind. To control the mind is to control the body. The body will do what such a mind commands, even to its own destruction.
Introduction
Shinhatu Training Manual
Jeena awoke and blinked. “I'm sorry, did I fall asleep?"
Elaina nodded. “It often happens during the Nihn-Psi."
"I feel woozy."
"It will pass."
She bowed her head and took several cleansing breaths.
"That's better. So, did you find out what you wanted?” she asked with a smirk.
"I am not sure."
"Regent..."
"Thank you, General. I know you find this all very foolish, and it was good of you to take the time. You have many duties pressing upon you, and I will not keep you further."
Jeena stood. “Very well. I'm sorry if I sound like I'm belittling your religious beliefs. I mean no disrespect.” She nodded politely and left.
* * * *
A shimhatu came to Elaina after Jeena had gone and found her deep in thought.
"Are you all right,
Mother?” Aramis asked.
The old woman nodded.
"Did you perform the Nihn-Psi?"
"Yes.” Elaina rose and went to the railing, looking out over the city. “For so long have I awaited her arrival, her face haunting my visions. Yet as the years passed, and she did not come, I began to doubt she would appear in my lifetime, and I almost did not recognize her when first we met. But I doubt no more.” She turned grimly to her daughter. “She is the one, Aramis. Jeena Garza is the Deliverer."
Aramis trembled, sinking unsteadily onto a bench near her mother.
"And there is more. She has awoken the Beast. I have seen him in her thoughts."
The younger woman grasped her hand. “Are they one?"
"I do not know. She has buried all thought of him deep within herself. I caught a glimpse, no more. Her heart is a mystery to me, as is the reason he is not here with her now."
"Then we remain ignorant still, and stumble blindly to our fate. Mother, why must this time come now, with the Rosh-dan beating at the gates?"
"Why? Who can say. The birth of an age comes when it will, and cares not if it is inconvenient. It is not for us to question its timing but only to assist in its delivery. For my part, I would not have it so, but if this new age of Ishtar be suckled on the ashes of war then so be it. Gird yourself. We knew this day would come."
"Yes, and I have feared it all my adult life. You yourself have spoken of the darkness which surrounds her, and of the evil which will be unleashed, if she and the Beast are not one."
She laid a gentle hand on the younger woman's shoulder. “It is true, there is darkness in her, which even the Nihn-Psi could not pierce. But there is also power, power enough to change the course of the universe, I think.
"You ask why. It is clear she is to play some part in this war, for good or ill, something not shown to me in my visions. We must let events play themselves out, and stay to the path we have set ourselves. If we can control her, guide her, then all our plans will come to fruition, and the glory of the goddess will spread throughout the galaxy."
"Yes, Mother.” Aramis's gaze was stern. “And if we cannot, what then? You know the answer, for you have seen it—an eternity of slavery for mankind. You risk too much. I beg you, destroy her now. We will fight the Rosh-dan without her and take our chances. If we fail, then we fall, but it will be Ararat alone that we doom, not the whole of mankind."
Elaina snapped her hand away. “Foolish woman! There is no turning back. Do you not understand? The old age is dying; the new age is upon us. It will come whether we wish it or no. The dragon of change is here, now, and our only hope of survival is to ride its wings. Destroy her! You know not what you ask. I alone have seen the power we both fear. I barely grazed its surface, yet it almost consumed me.” She raised her right hand. Where her fingertips had touched Jeena, black blisters had formed. “It was like touching the sun."
* * * *
Samson stood on the hill and gazed out over the moonlit valley below, the snowy fields a sea of pale gold. He had called to them, not with words but with mental images laden with emotional meaning. From all corners of the wastes he had called them, and they had come. They stood now before him—all that remained of his race—an army of forty thousand tigras.
The process of learning to communicate through the mind link had proved daunting; but he would not give up, and over the last few weeks had gained in his ability until now he could direct his thoughts into it with ease. Being sentient, his mind was stronger than those of the others, and like a beacon of light in their dim world; they were drawn to him, drawn to the power of his thoughts. Although the nature of the light was beyond their understanding, they felt the need to be near it, and to follow it.
Once he had gained confidence in his abilities, Samson gently probed the reaches of those minds. On the surface, there were only the base hungers of beasts; but deep within, on a level just below conscious thought, he found that they were aware of their world slipping away, of their long age coming to an end.
It terrified them.
So, he tried to instill a concept in their minds they had long ago forgotten. He tried to give them hope.
He had called them together, and now it was time. He closed his eyes and projected a new image into their minds, then quickly turned south. They followed, moving fast, picking up speed until they were racing with the wind across the snowy land.
Perhaps we are damned, as Jacob said, but we will not fade quietly from our world. We will not pass gently into night.
For this one brief moment, at least, they were no longer a lost and dying race. By the strength of his will they were made a people once again, if only for a short time.
There was another concept Samson had formed, but which he kept locked away for now—he would release it into the link when the time was right. For he would not leave the fate of his race to others entirely. If they were destined for extinction, then at least they would end their days fighting for themselves, and not as sheep for slaughter. The concept was one the ancient race had once known well, and for which humans had a word.
The word was war.
* * * *
Jeena stepped out of the temple into the bright sun of early morning. The city around her was clean and gleaming. Across from the temple gardens, the open-air market was just beginning to stir. The smells of flowers and fresh foods floated through the plaza.
Ghannon walked toward her carrying a round yellow object in his hand.
"Selanja asked that I escort you to the Temple of Anil,” he said. “She is coordinating the evacuation of the city."
"Thank you, Ghannon."
He handed her the object in his hand. “In case you are hungry. It is a kaba fruit."
She sniffed; it had a slight peachlike aroma. Biting into it she was rewarded with a mouthful of juicy pulp, somewhat like a strawberry in flavor. She ate it hungrily as they walked.
"Mmmm, it's wonderful,” she said, wiping her hands on the handkerchief Ghannon provided. “Thank you."
"It is nothing. They grow in my garden,” he replied flatly.
"If the kaba is any indication, then you'd have made a good gardener."
He frowned. “I am a soldier. I wish to be nothing else."
"You still disapprove of Selanja's decision to place me in command?"
"As I said, Captain, I am a soldier. I obey my orders."
"I see,” Jeena replied, and noted that he alone among the commanders did not address her as “general."
They headed south along the main avenue in silence. People were packing up their belongings and locking their homes. There was no sense of panic Jeena could see, and everyone seemed to be working together to make the move as easy as possible for all involved.
"Your people seem calm, considering the uncertainty they're facing,” she observed.
"That is because they know that everything that can be done is being done, and that panic will not help. You will find we are a stoic society."
"So I've noticed. There is also a great sense of community here. I'm surprised they feel the need to lock their doors."
For the first time, she saw a slight smile appear on the soldier's lips.
"We are not a city of saints. We well understand the weakness of our fellow man. Why tempt people unnecessarily? Given a strong enough enticement, even the most noble can be lured into doing something he might later regret. Though, in truth, there is very little theft in Uruk. We have little true wealth here to steal, for one reason. If it is one's goal to amass a fortune, this would be a poor city to choose."
Jeena looked around at the marble buildings and immaculate lawns on either side of the street.
"It seems wealthy enough to me."
"Most of what you see is the result of public works. Little is privately owned."
"And these are paid from city taxes?"
Ghannon looked horrified.
"Great God Anil, no. We would be taxed to death if that were so. No, most work is accompli
shed through the temples. Some will collect money outright through donations, while others call upon the skill and talents of their congregations. It is a better method than taxing, I think, for here the people give freely, as opposed to it being taken from them."
"It's a wonderful system,” Jeena agreed.
"It is simply our way, but it does limit one. Most of our people belong to more than one temple, and that requires devoting much time to community service, time unavailable for the accumulation of wealth. But then, people choose to live in Uruk because of the quality of life, not material possessions."
"And what about those people who refuse to contribute, or are destructive or break the laws? Are all your citizens so altruistic?"
Ghannon shrugged. “There are disagreeable people here as elsewhere, of course. But they are few in number. We have discovered that most antisocial problems arise in childhood, and we devote much time and love in the raising of our children. We try to identify such patterns early, so that we have a better chance of correcting them.
"We have a flexible legal system and will work with lawbreakers as much as possible to come to a mutually agreeable resolution. If one continues to be a burden to the community, then, yes, there are punishments, including imprisonment and banishment, but these are seldom used.
"In point of fact, Uruk has few laws. We expect people to act like adults and take responsibility for their actions. At the very least, we ask that they not bother the rest of the citizens unduly. Other than that, how you wish to live your life is entirely up to you."
"You and your people have an enlightened philosophy, Ghannon."
"I think so. It is based on a strong sense of community and civic duty, tempered by our acceptance and love of individuality. I would not live any other way."
Jeena looked at the powerfully built man, the scars on his body clearly visible. He had withstood weeks of torture at the hands of his enemies and was now willing to die in battle, all for the city he loved. Touloc had done the same. These people had something special here, and they knew it.
Presently, they came to the Temple of Anil, the God of War. It was a rectangular building ringed by beautifully carved columns. The lawn was dotted with trees bursting with small white blossoms. Ghannon led her up a short flight of steps to a pair of wooden doors. They met Selanja in the foyer.