by William Cray
As a Second of his own genetic Prime, Ambrose Polesti, Chairman of the Socialist Consenters of Phannis, Ambrose’s role as an ambassador was to replicate and convey the thoughts and experiences of his Prime to Caleb’s Synchronized Council here on Pavonis. He would provide timely input to Caleb in a system whose decisions spanned the voids of space and restraints of New Relativity. When Ambrose had spent sufficient time here, or had strayed far enough from the character of his Prime to show deviation, a new copy would arrive, and this variant, sitting in this unusual gathering, would be retired. He would gather his things and be taken to his new life to live out an obscure existence, no longer contributing to the glory or history of his line.
It was a shame. Ambrose was proud of his accomplishments as an individual at this station. It was a clear sign that he had been here too long and his own replacement could be on the way.
“With all due respect to your hospitality and the magnificence of your terrace Caleb, why are we here? This odd collection of Seconds would raise the ire of the other Councilors who are excluded. They would say this meeting smacked of favoritism or lobbying.” Nicodemous had tossed the provisions of the Accords into the ring to speed things up. He had done them all a favor.
Caleb showed his displeasure at the interruption with a slight downturn of his calculated grin. It was a risk to be so forward with the master of an entire planet but the system wouldn’t work if Seconds to the Synchronized Council lived in fear of a Prime. Caleb might request that Nicodemous be replaced for some perceived slight, but that would take years. Caleb recovered his grandeur with slight bow and turned to the collection of Seconds.
“Of course Nicodemous, I was merely taken aback. Of the many rare opportunities to be outside the shield wall, I find this morning most magnificent. I thought we all would take pleasure in it for a moment.”
He motioned for them all to sit then joined them on a low forma. It was an extremely informal act that was designed as a demonstration of their equality. But everyone knew that was a lie.
“The war is over.” Caleb said.
After almost three thousand years of conflict, many citizens had even forgotten that there was a war. But now, apparently with inside information, it was concluded. Ambrose had known of course. Any Second worthy of his Prime had sources. Something like this was too big to hide.
The war is over.
Ambrose scanned the others for a reaction. The Marshal shifted in his seat but it was the way he interlocked his fingers that revealed the tension in his frame.
The one man in the room who should have known the war was over…didn’t. After all, a version of himself, hopefully a younger, more fit version, had been leading the battle on Kearsash. His ignorance of this development would be astonishing.
“Over finally?” The Marshal croaked in a great exhaling of pain and hope. “Victory?”
“Victory my dear Marshal…victory at last for humanity.” Caleb continued with a grand bow to the old warrior. “After all these many millennia of conflict against the Rokontorogan Vinar, we are victorious.”
Caleb opened his arms towards the Marshal. “We, as a people, are indebted to you and your constituents for your sacrifice and your commitment to humanity’s survival.”
The Marshal stood and returned the bow, finally admitting the obvious. “Thank you Consentor Barbaron, I did not know. My network has been slow lately and I receive information from Kearsash much tardier than usual. It is a glorious day indeed.”
Tyler’s luminary birds danced in flight around him as he rose to congratulate the Marshal, followed by the others. The Marshal seemed to be warming to the idea of being a hero. He smiled and bowed again, thanking everyone in the room for the support of their Primes during the darkest days of the war.
“Please, honored guests,” Caleb said, “there will be time for proper accolades and celebration. The entirety of humanity will be heartened by this news. But first we must examine all the factors.”
Caleb came and sat on the low forma across from the rest of the gathering. “Victory has been achieved, yes, but there appears to be a cost to this victory. I have information that alludes to an armistice, the terms of which I am not yet sure. We all know that this has been a war of annihilation, older than our lines, back to our ancestors and the old emperors, but now peaceful minds prevail? What has changed? Certainly not the Rokons. We have been fighting the single-minded drones on Kearsash for more than a thousand years alone. No biological Rokon Primes have been identified there for centuries.”
The Marshal responded with some of his new prestige. “Consentor Barbaron, we have mined after them, deep into the rock, but even then only scratching the surface like a mite on the back of a chromehound. It is possible that some Rokon Prime intelligence remained deep below the surface and was forced into submission.”
“I find it likely, dear Marshal,” Caleb responded. “But my information is more ambiguous and will be disturbing to you personally.”
Caleb turned his full attention to the rejuvenated Marshal. “Our forces have declared victory, yet every sign indicates we have suffered a terrible defeat. And Marshal… you appear to have been replaced, possibly assassinated, but at least deposed.”
A moment of stunned silence followed until the Marshal blurted, “Impossible. My line has been charged with the execution of the war on Kearsash for over six hundred years.”
Caleb soothed him with a sympathetic gesture, again smacking of familiarity that didn’t exist. “Nevertheless my honorable friend, my information is not without some credibility. I have been well placed for some time in the Kearsash Battleforce. Not perhaps on the general staff, but close. My source took considerable risk to insert this information into the data stream. I hope that more will be forthcoming, but if what he has indicated is correct, he will be under some duress to send further intelligence.”
Nicodemous interrupted, “I also have had some unusual reports from Kearsash. Perhaps we should consider the matter you have brought us here for Caleb.”
Now for the conspiracy, Ambrose thought.
Caleb stood again. He faced them, extolling his full authority. “If what I have learned is true, the implications are numerous and dangerous and effects us in this room directly.” He turned to Nicodemous. “This armistice has given the Rokons possession of Kearsash, one of the last indigenously compatible worlds for human existence and the only thing worth fighting a thousand years for. There are indications that even more concessions have been made but I do not know the terms.”
Ambrose leaned in. “What terms Consentor? Whatever has been agreed on would have happened thirty years before we found out. Conceding Kearsash is distressing but it will be hundreds of years before the eco-damage of the war could make the planet productive to us again in any meaningful way. What effect does this have on us here on Pavonis?”
“The Kearsash Battleforce is coming here Ambrose, and could be here within twenty years,” Caleb turned in the Marshals direction, “and it is now commanded by an Idoan.”
“Who is this Idoan?” Nicodemous blurted.
“I do not know. His identity has been obscured from my intelligence. I do know that he is not one of us. His followers call him Sumaii.”
Taylor sat upright as his gaudy baubles and sprites finally calmed and rested on his shoulders.
The Marshal sat in shock of yet another astounding revelation in just minutes. He shook his head and a frown wrinkled his face.
A change of command in the Battleforce would explain the Marshal’s ignorance to these revelations, but if an Idoan had usurped him, there were enormous ramifications here, not the least of which was that the Kearsash Battleforce had given up their promised world. If Caleb was right, a force of a million armed and trained soldiers were returning home with humanity wholly unable to settle or even provide for them, victorious or not. There simply weren’t the resources without Kearsage. Humanity had spread out too fast during the rule of the Emperors, but the thin strands that c
onnected them now were strained to the breaking point.
“Sumaii.” The Marshal repeated. “The name is not familiar.”
“Not likely Marshal. It’s an obscure religious title in Idoan lore. An honorary bestowed on a man of great significance.” Caleb replied.
Taylor rose from the forma, “Idoan is not a religion but a discipline. I hope you have shielded this room from your Idoan servicemen just outside Caleb.”
Caleb replied, dismissing the concerns with a flick of his wrist.
“Who then… is this Sumaii and what are the variables we are here to consider?” Nicodemous asked.
“Sumaii is an old reference to the Idoan discipline. It was closely associated with the origins of the Idoan ascendance during the second reign of Cannis. Specifically, it refers to the Idoan patriarch of John.
“John the Holder, Emperor Braiselle you mean?”
“The reference is not implicit, but it is certainly circumspect,” Caleb responded. “Many of the records after the disaster of John the Holder’s reign were eviscerated when Emperor Cannis regained his post for the third time. The true believers now in the Kearsash Battleforce regard their new leader in near mythical terms for reasons that are unclear. It could be someone poaching an Idoan icon, or something much worse.”
“Worse?” Ambrose darted.
A question was hanging there. Something Caleb wasn’t addressing intentionally, like a schoolmaster seeing if his students were paying attention. Ambrose turned to Caleb. “Is it possible that John the Holder has been re-coupled by some rogue element and inserted into the Battleforce?”
“I cannot be sure. I should know more when the genetic record of this Sumaii is received. Perhaps Carolous can shed light on that possibility.”
Carolous had been silent to this point. His constituency was responsible for maintaining the genetic replication technology that kept the Primes almost immortal, but it took an Idoan Viva to complete the coupling of old mind and new body. As a result his constituency had a closer link to the Idoans than the others.
“I cannot say it is impossible, but certain aspects of Idoan politics make it improbable even if a Viva for John the Holder exists. However… I cannot conceive of a greater threat to the current Idoan political structure than the return of John the Holder.”
Nicodemous leaned back, his broad face wrinkling in disbelief. “I must ask Caleb, is the reference to this mysterious Sumaii all the evidence you have?”
“The reference is somewhat obscure I admit, but the Battleforce hasn’t simply lost its way. If they were forced to retreat they were to fall back to Trappist. At least there they could breath the atmosphere. The fact remains that an armed force of trained men has claimed victory, reached an armistice with hidden stipulations, and are abandoning their post to come here without announcing their intentions. In twenty-seven years I will assume the rotating leadership of the Synchronized Council for the Commonwealth of Unified Suns. The only reason for the Battleforce to come to Pavonis is leverage. And…as of this moment, we are powerless to alter that leverage. Are we in agreement in this?”
Tentative nods around the room, but Nicodemous injected, “In principle, Caleb, if I can confirm what you have presented.”
“In principle then,” Caleb nodded. “Can we also agree that we here are uniquely suited to best regulate the crisis as a working group, recognizing integration of the full council could politicize a potential crisis?”
Ambrose stood and picked up a tart-laq drink on a nearby stand and downed it. Caleb was attempting to draft them into something that was too big for just the six of them. The entire council would need to take action on something this profound. But Caleb was right about one thing. Forming subcommittees would only confuse the issue. This was to be a deep conspiracy. What he was about to do was dangerous. He pointed an accusatory finger at Caleb.
“You brought us here because you already know what you are going to do, otherwise we would be sitting in ignorance like the rest of the council. You need our tacit assent, if not our accessory. What do you intend Consentor?” He pointed to the horizon. “Our time is limited.”
Caleb raised his hands. “We need a tool Ambrose… a fulcrum to counter-leverage this Sumaii. A military preparation will also have to be a component of our planning, but not an open one. We cannot provoke an open conflict, or even think we could win if there is treachery in this sudden return of our victorious saviors. We do not know the terms of this armistice nor do we know who has made it on behalf of humanity. I will open all I have on this matter to your personal networks only if we agree on a course of action.”
Caleb turned to Nicodemous. “Your industrial base and technology should give us a small edge. Your networks transmit regular upgrade designs to the Battleforce. When the armistice is formally announced those upgrade transmissions must be turned away from the axis the Battleforce is using to approach Pavonis. This will guarantee us a technological edge of at least twenty-years by the time they arrive here. A small margin I know, but we will need it.”
Nicodemous nodded. “I believe that is an action my Prime would think prudent, as long as there are guarantees against loss.”
“Agreed.”
Ambrose waited as Caleb next focused on him. “Ambrose, your maintenance of the networks can provide us the most timely information. I understand that encryption of the individual constituencies prohibit active intelligence gathering, but I ask that you tap your networks to the extent you deem appropriate in order to better frame our circumstances in this crisis. Also your vast collection of history could benefit us by providing insight into this Sumaii or whoever he might actually be. I believe focusing on some elemental weakness he may have revealed in the past could provide us a method to influence the situation indirectly. Perhaps queries into his childhood, political rivalries or sexual tendencies.”
Ambrose shook his head. “Records of him are rare. Old Cannis was thorough in expunging him from history. Perhaps you should ask Monticel. He is sworn into your service Caleb. He is allegedly an expert on the early Idoan Order.”
“Perhaps,” Caleb said. “But not yet. I would prefer to know the right questions to ask before hand.
Ambrose nodded. “I will examine my Prime level nodes on the subject, but I doubt we will learn much.”
Caleb looked to the Marshall who sat quiet with a hand on his chin.
“Marshal, from you we need as much information as your constituency can provide. If you have sources within the Battleforce, loyal subordinates perhaps who have been displaced by this coup, we would benefit from their intelligence.”
The Marshal nodded. “Yes, those are actions my Prime would demand of me regardless.”
“Also, once my sources have sent me the composition of the returning force, I would like you to advise me on military precautions.”
The Marshal leaned back and crossed his thick arms. “They will be returning on Triumphant Horizons, Caleb. There is no other clipper in Kearsash space. Once Triumphant Horizons enters the system, she instantly becomes the bull in the room. She is the only purely militarized clipper in existence. Nothing short of three or four destroyers could oppose her on equal terms, and there hasn’t been a destroyer in service for eight hundred years.”
“Yes Marshal, I have examined the specifications. I do not think it practical or even possible to stage a battle of the line against Triumphant Horizons. But there must have been trade-offs of mass for the journey. She could be a skeleton of herself and if that is the case there may be unconventional possibilities.”
“Quickly Consentor,” Nicodemous quipped. “The heat is rising and soon our colleagues spies and trackers will reveal this gathering.”
“Carolous, from you I need something most delicate. As keeper of our collective genetic past, search your archives. Find the genetic record of John Braiselle, perhaps there is a replacement strategy that could succeed as a measure of last resort.”
“Madness Caleb.” Ambrose stormed. “A Second o
f John the Holder would double the jeopardy. If he were to return in our hands, it could create a crisis that would engulf us and probably extinguish our way of life for good. I will not condone it.”
Carolous interjected calmly, “Even if we were to succeed in concealing our own Second of John Braiselle, we would merely be creating a new rival. Not to mention we would still need a Viva to possess and transfer his consciousness. The variables and dangers are simply too great, even if it were possible.”
Ambrose picked up the subtle color change in Caleb’s ears. He wasn’t used to his ideas being rejected with so much force. It was a silent warning to them all.
Carolous stood and paced away from the others, aware of the rebuke. “Perhaps there is another lever we could use. Something subtle… someone close to him that will be easier to control. I will examine this carefully. I will need your assistance Ambrose, but let us all agree. We will not create a duplicate of John the Holder.”
Caleb nodded. “I acquiesce to your judgment Carolous. Please explore your options.” He turned to the group. “We will not meet again in this way for some years. I will convey instructions on passing information through your private networks. Please test each other’s security. Also…replace the Idoans in your immediate service. Do not do it all at once, but over time. This must be kept secret from your Idoan servicemen even if they are neutered to your thoughts.”
Caleb nodded to them with a perfunctory smile. “I am not sure of everything that is to come or what is going to be required, but I do ask that we all consider what the ramifications are and what we must do. We must prepare a myriad of possible responses. All of our intelligence must be focused, and our actions quiet so that we do not tip our intentions.”