The Rylerran Gateway

by Mark Ian Kendrick

  Droon selected a seat next to Naylon and briefly looked at him with a smile on his face. He was the only other gay person in the group. Long ago Naylon had decided his mop of blonde hair, which constantly fell into his eyes, was his most endearing feature. After a brief liaison shortly after they first met, Naylon decided that although Droon was young, cute and terrific in bed, he was a bit too thin for his taste. Droon was also too radical for him. Droon found conspiracies in just about everything, up to and including the algae used at the station to generate hydrogen. Paranoia aside, Droon had a natural intelligence that lent itself well to the group. His pithy remarks and insightful commentaries constantly drove the group to take notice of what he had to say. Even though their partnership hadn’t met Naylon’s expectations, they had remained friends. Droon had long since given up hope of Naylon becoming his boyfriend.

  Naylon realized Droon, as usual, was waiting for him to ask the question. Obliging him, he asked. “Well, is he getting the message?”

  Last week Droon had asked Naylon to suggest the best approach for getting a co-worker’s attention. Droon was becoming mildly infatuated with a guy who worked in his department. For some reason, he didn’t think he’d have a chance with him. Naylon wasn’t sure what the problem was. After all, it was Droon who had come on to him when they first met.

  “I asked him,” Droon announced excitedly.

  “And?”

  “I have a date.”

  “It’s about time,” Naylon said with a sigh of relief.

  “Thunder, he’s so cute,” Droon stated with a grin.

  “Like you’ve said a million times. I hope it works out for you.” He nudged Droon in the arm with his elbow.

  Their conversation was cut short by Kirin, the self-appointed leader of the group. She was the other academician and had a knack for public speaking. That and she had a preoccupation with keeping everyone on schedule due to her pre-teen children at home alone with her husband. They rarely went over two hours because of her sharp reprimands when someone got long-winded.

  Tonight’s topic was about a recent new tax issue Siaron province was expected to levy against every Citizen. The directive came from the Planetary Director’s office, which in turn got its executive orders from much higher up in the Consort. Taxes weren’t unusual. Indeed, taxes were expected. After all, it was one of the ways the wheels of the Consort were greased. This particular tax though, was little discussed in the media. Most people usually didn’t notice taxes since they mostly affected company bottom lines. However, this one was an energy tax that affected the general population. It was highly unusual for a tax of this type to be levied against Citizens. Energy was generated locally through the use of hydrogen-producing algae, jet stream-powered wind fan kites which were tethered aloft over the landscape, from geothermal sources, or the microwave power plants in low orbit that beamed their converted solar energy to ground collecting stations. An energy levy was virtually unheard of. But this one passed into existence almost entirely unnoticed, mostly because the news media wasn’t reporting the issue.

  “I thought that by law all provincial governments were funded from the Development Division of the Consort,” Ecca commented. She was one of the most outspoken people in the group.

  “You are correct,” Traig said, his head inclining toward her.

  “Then why are they turning right around and siphoning that money back into their department? In effect, it ends up being a reduction of what they’re giving us in the first place.”

  Naylon spoke up now. “It’s because of our planetary resources. They think we’ll never notice. Hardly anyone will if they take more away, bit by bit.”

  “It doesn’t make any sense. The Consort makes enough money to do whatever they want. Why do they need to pick on us?” Sopka asked in her nasally whine, which sometimes got on Naylon’s nerves if she droned on too long.

  Naylon cut in quickly, hoping his comment would sufficiently answer her question, thus heading off the possible ranting tangents she was well known for. “They think we have some sort of privilege they need to get rid of, I guess. You know, tax us and it reduces our ability to purchase some sort of good or service we could enjoy.”

  Kirin added her own thoughts immediately, with the same goal in mind. She gave Naylon a quick wink, which Sopka couldn’t see from her angle. “Yet, energy has never been a privilege. It’s a right,” she emphasized. “It’s entirely possible something’s changed that we’re simply unaware of. Some policy or procedure or-or perhaps a reshuffling of personnel has occurred. What if someone with a bone to pick with our planet is now in place in some division we don’t even know exists!”

  The speculation went on for quite a while. It was great fun attempting to tie together the disparate threads of seemingly random events that popped up in their lives from time to time. Yet, fun was only part of the game. This one had the tag of true mystery all over it. Naylon suspected something far more nefarious was brewing at the Planetary Director’s office complex, but without any sort of proof he didn’t feel comfortable articulating it.

  While the discussion went on, Droon confirmed by way of his neural implant that there was no record of any other Inhab having had an energy tax imposed at any time. Proof enough that Andakar was being singled out, just as everyone suspected.

  Naylon had no way to confirm his other suspicion. Perhaps since Andakar was becoming increasingly wealthy, and as its pharma interests were becoming more and more lucrative, the Consort was feeling threatened. Earth had always been the wealthiest planet. No Inhab had ever come close to its level of prosperity. Maybe, just maybe, the accounting types in the Consort on Earth had determined Andakar was starting to catch up too fast and wanted to slow down their progress. Catching up would make them not only a rival, but an equal. That, Naylon thought, would never be allowed.

  Eventually, the two hours were over. Despite the continuous speculations and questions, and not an answer to their questions in sight, everyone left the meeting to go their separate ways. Answers would have to wait for another day.

  Chapter 4

  It was rare nowadays for Darreth and his father Siloy to have dinner together with or without the rest of the family. His mother and two younger siblings were away, visiting their second home on Velcay island north of Tokaias. Darreth’s mother Kyana demanded the time away periodically. Their high profile life took its toll on the family and she tried her best to give her children a break from it all.

  When the Consort first started developing Inhabs, corporations ran everything. After all, that’s the way governance had been structured for centuries leading up to the exploration of deep space. For centuries, the Consortium had owned and operated virtually everything. That included local political administration. Politics, as it had been known up until only fifty years previous, had been run by Local Boards of Directors, management teams, staff and laborers.

  But the realization that corporate control at the local level was a growing impossibility had led to a complete overhaul of planetary governance. Slowly but surely, it had become recognized that some of the old ways were actually more efficient and beneficial. Thus, the return to a Provincial Board of Managers to act as governors, a mayoral structure to run cities, and district administrators to provide for infrastructure issues. There was a return to a limited form of politics as it had been known in the ancient past. Everyone involved welcomed a democratically elected slate of candidates. For the first time in centuries, control over the basics such as water, energy, communications, and infrastructure was totally in local hands and not controlled by someone from Earth, who previously would have made decisions for the locals, never having given them much thought.

  Despite natives having local control, the Earth-based Consortium still owned and controlled everything else. That was why all fourteen Inhabs had a Planetary Director, appointed by the Earth Central Planning and Direction Division, who lived in the Inhab’s administrative center city. This person was always Earth-born a
nd trained. The PD reported directly back to Earth, which in turn reported to the Supreme Board of Directors, all of who resided on Earth.

  Siloy’s position as Chief Council, the highest elected official on Andakar, required him to wear many hats. First and foremost, the ten other provincial managers reported to him. The managers mostly met holographically. In fact, most council business was conducted in that manner. At least once a month though, planetary by-laws required face-to-face meetings. One of his other hats was to meet directors and division heads on their many visits to Tokaias or when they decided to tour a major facility. Siloy’s many other jobs included making sure corporate law was upheld at the local level and to report any unemployment issues. His staff handled most of the day-to-day affairs and funding to various key departments, essentially acting as a traditional city council. Siloy was only the third Chief Council ever elected on the planet. So far, he had turned out to be the best one.

  “Not so much ice, Dad,” Darreth told him through the opened back door. Siloy poured them drinks, set the glasses on a tray, and brought them out to the back deck.

  Darreth turned a succulent stuffed hejbird on a spit in the raised fire pit. Darreth rather enjoyed spending time with Siloy. His father’s position had him working long hours most of the week. He was rarely three meters away from at least one local official. It was barely any different for Darreth. As a scout ship pilot, he was in orbit or on patrol and away from the family for long stretches as well.

  But tonight was different.

  Darreth had never had a problem discussing his personal life or work with his father. Despite Siloy’s high-level position, he always had time for his children. But there was one topic Darreth had never broached with him. He had been working up the nerve to discuss it. Why he felt so nervous discussing this concern was a mystery to him, but finally he couldn’t contain himself any longer. “Dad, I don’t know if I should even discuss this with you, but there’s something on my mind I have to talk about,” Darreth had said while they watched wisps of smoke rise from the grill.

  “You can talk to me about anything, son,” Siloy told him warmly.

  “It’s corporate business.”

  Siloy took a sip of his drink then put it down on the side table next to the comfortable recliner he was sitting in. “That may be different. I’m off the clock, as it were,” he replied with his famous grin. His body language told Darreth the opposite though.

  Darreth took a deep breath. “I’m beginning to think some of the directives issued by the Planetary Director’s office are way off base.”

  “In what way?” he said, settling comfortably into his recliner, his attention immediately piqued.

  “Don’t you think it’s a little odd we’re not allowed to pursue pharma pirates if they’re in our space,” Darreth began somewhat nervously. “I mean, the directive says we’re only allowed to fire on them if they’ve boarded our freighters. In addition, we’re not to pursue them if they leave. We’ve never been able to recover a single nav crystal from any of their ships. We still have no idea where they’re basing themselves, who their leaders are, or anything of importance I’ve been privy to. It’s as if we’re not allowed to fully do our jobs,” he finished, his anger rising. “What good is it to call us a military force if we’re not allowed to use that force?”

  Space Navy contracts with the pharma division were clearly defined. Only starlanes were to be patrolled. Only events that directly affected the transport of goods and materials in the starlanes were under the jurisdiction of the Space Navy. Consort law controlled the military arm and dictated what was to be enforced. The Space Navy was not a separate entity that could just pursue anyone at any time. They were not under the command and control of separate military leaders. It had taken a full year, but Darreth was only now becoming irritated at the restrictions placed on their readiness.

  Siloy was normally a composed man. Used to his position at the pinnacle of local power, he was rarely surprised by anything anymore. But this indeed surprised him. His eldest son, the one who, at an early age was the model of conservative thinking, had apparently been pondering this issue for quite some time. That was a good thing in his mind just now. “Go on,” his father coaxed.

  “It’s been gnawing at me for months now, ever since the request was made to the PD’s office for clarification and amendment of the directive. I’ve been reluctant to say anything to my superiors, but the more I’ve thought about it, the more I realize she might not have our best interests at heart. It’s almost as if she wants the pirates to steal our property,” he blurted.

  Siloy was paying a great deal of attention to all the details, then cracked the barest of smiles. He had rarely seen his son so worked up and was unprepared for what Darreth was saying. It wasn’t just the words. Darreth fairly shook with pent up anger, his head up, eyes blazing. The tone of his voice only added to this look; there was more he needed to say. This was very good indeed. There was something he needed to say to his son, but he wasn’t sure how much to divulge just yet. “And,” Siloy said for him, “you want someone to find out why.”

  Darreth nodded. “But I also didn’t want to drag you into this. As far as I can tell, I’m the only one who thinks this way. Well, me and a few others who don’t want to talk too much about it.”

  Siloy took another sip of his drink, set it down again, then went to the railing that surrounded the deck. He scanned the yard. The grounds were well secured. No one was within half a kilometer of them.

  Darreth pulled the hejbird from the grill and placed it into the large waiting plate. Siloy retrieved both their drinks and they retreated inside. Darreth laid the plate on the counter in the kitchen.

  Siloy turned to face Darreth. “You can never tell anyone about this. No one.”

  This was odd, Darreth noted. It wasn’t like his father to take such a serious tone like that with him, especially out of the blue.

  “You’re not alone with that concern,” Siloy told him. “There are others who have been discussing this issue. Lots of others. It goes way beyond just questioning contracts as to when to engage pirate raids.” Siloy paused so Darreth would notice and look him in the eye. There was no other way to broach the topic, so Siloy just came right out with it. “Some of us have been talking about independence.”

  Darreth’s first reaction was to laugh merrily. After all, such a thing was impossible. Once his laughter subsided, he noticed his father wasn’t even smiling. “You’re not… laughing with me,” Darreth offered.

  “I’m not.”

  “Why?” he asked slowly.

  “Because I’m completely serious.”

  The residual smile that had remained on Darreth’s face faded. He took on the same serious look as did his father. Darreth was suddenly alarmed. He had never heard his father talk like this before. He was sure independence would result in anarchy. Not to mention it was unprecedented. None of the Inhabs were independent. If anything, they were all totally dependent on the Consort to provide everything from raw and finished materials, to the contracts that made business run efficiently, to the technology and fuel which made star travel possible.

  “As you know son, the bulk of the wealth our planet generates doesn’t stay planetside. Sure, the Consortium provides us with everything we need. The starlanes are open as a direct result of them. But there’s an important point Earth’s ignoring. Local control to determine when a contract is a good one or not, for instance. Or the purely psychological need to be the masters of our destiny. They dictate much of our policy at the district council level, even though they say they’re not allowed to interfere with internal affairs. Sure, I was duly elected, as were all the other provincial managers, but there’s something that’s been discussed amongst some of us, which we think we should adopt here on Andakar.”

  “Which is?”

  Siloy’s face took on a meaner, harder look. “A very old form of government, one that hasn’t existed for over eight hundred years. It’s called a repu
blic.”

  “You mean like the ones on ancient Earth?”

  “Exactly.”

  Darreth emitted a harrumph. “I doubt obsolete forms of government could possibly help us.”

  “Some of us feel otherwise,” Siloy told him firmly.

  Darreth noted his father distinctly used the word ‘us’. He didn’t know what to say. He was already anxious. His father’s announcement had been like having the rug pulled out from under him.

  The hejbird certainly wasn’t going to stay warm by itself. His father pulled the arretz root casserole from the oven, raised the lid, and sprinkled some ground yeet on the top. A pungent aroma rose up into his nose. Darreth caught a whiff of it as his stomach rumbled. He started to carve up the meat. Moments later, with plates filled, they sat at the dinner table. Their voices stayed low as Siloy continued to discuss the matter with Darreth.

  “Think back to your history. I’m sure you’re steeped in it by now,” Darreth’s father said.

  “Of course. History lessons come with the territory. Historical military missions give us perspective on the present.”

  “Exactly my point. By the same token, we’ve pulled historical data from the ancient past and have come to an inexorable conclusion. Independence is only a matter of time. The return to a formal governmental structure will follow,” he said, with a note of conviction and determination in his voice.

  “But-but where’s the mandate? Sure, I have a grievance with policies. Who doesn’t? Sure, the Consort makes some stupid decisions, which get funneled down to Inhabs. But why not just have contracts amended instead of calling for independence? What you’re saying sounds like-like sedition.”