* * * * *
For the next few months the scientists from Baidarka and I worked to find a solution to Orian’s supply problems and how to control the volcanic emissions. With the political turmoil in Orian, the politicians on Tiasenne had turned a blind eye to anything else. After a year, we finally arranged a cargo ship to take a kind of fast-growing algae that we had bio-engineered to Orian’s North Nyx Plateau, the coldest region on Orian. If left to spread, the algae would improve the Orian climate and oxygen levels; the atmosphere and temperature might stabilize for a while. The biologists remained to monitor the algae until they were sure that it was established.
The remote North Nyx Plateau became a green field more than a million square nariars in size that was visible from Tiasenne. While they were on Orian, the biologists sent a message to all of our old colleagues from our Baidarka expedition, inviting our old colleagues to return with them to Tiasenne and to join us. Most of them responded positively, but were caught by the Orian army and detained.
About a month later, Orashean received a dispatch that starvation in the Orian city of Destria had stabilized, that they had coped with the reductions in supply from Tiasenne the previous year, and now Orian’s governing body demanded an explanation as to why Orashean had violated the treaties. Now if Orashean didn’t answer them, they were going to do something about it. Just as soon as Leader Beren recovered.
However, he never did. Near the end of the second year since my withdrawal from open society, news reached Tiasenne that Leader Beren had died, and his ministers would form a governing council until a new leader could be chosen.
There was a marked feeling of tension in Inen that year. The lack of information concerning Orian’s activities convinced the Tiasennian public that something was wrong. Then, slowly, rumors leaked through with news of an extremist faction rising in Orian; the group gained support as each month passed. By the year’s end, there were whisperings of a new Orian leader emerging.
Around this time, there was also a catastrophic volcanic eruption on the Northeastern Ridge of Orian that negated our efforts to stabilize the planet’s atmosphere. The eruption of Mount Aeteriya was a sign that Orian’s surface crust was reforming. The planet had ninety and perhaps as much as a hundred years left before the entire surface was reshaped by volcanism.
Perhaps only a hundred years left, before the population had to escape. We had gained them a few years, but nowhere near so many as we had hoped.
The terraforming procedures Hinev’s explorers had once used to make Orian a viable planet, to pave the way for a permanent colonial station, were clearly breaking down. Orian had won its struggle against the taming power of our terraforming techniques and seemed to have retaliated in greater force; the same terraforming that we had used would no longer be effective on the planet; Orian was doomed. I had known about Orian’s instability for more than three millennia; yet I never expected the terraforming processes to break down so soon.
I decided that I must go back to Orian and try to speak with the new Orian faction and to reconcile with Sargon for the sake of the Orian people. I waited for the opportunity to take one of the few diplomatic transports still operating between the two planets.
But within the tenday, a hailing signal found us, found me, even in our secret accommodation among the multitudes of Inen.
The signal came during the night, one of the few nights that year that I had attempted to sleep. The others had retired hours earlier. I had just settled down when I heard the faint recurring signal in the other room.
By now we had managed to take four apartments in the same building, and I lived with Enessa and six other unattached women in Enessa’s apartment, a surprisingly run-down, unmodern dwelling for people of our profession with old pipes and water that tasted of chlorine. The heating had gone out a few days before, letting in the bitter chill of winter. Now and again I did what I could against that by taking energy from the environment, particularly when no one else was around to see the ghost face it seemed to make of me.
But right now, I didn’t want the signal to wake the others, so I hurried to the communications console in the main room, my feet shuffling quickly over an ice-cold floor, wondering who would be hailing us using my personal emergency signal frequency—who else even knew it?
When I punched in the video terminal’s receiver, the image that formed struck me with sudden pain, but I would never betray that.
Sargon had leaned over the video emissions console. Immediately I noticed he was wearing the maroon and grey uniform worn by Orian military officers. It resembled the cut and style once preferred by Leader Beren.
As if from a remote distance behind him, I could see similarly clad men and women rushing about purposefully in a military center of gargantuan size with hundreds of metallic consoles and operators manning specialized stations. I recognized the place from years before, having passed through it once on a tour given by Leader Beren and his officers.
It was Command Central of the Orian Headquarters Building, the giant complex in which all military decisions were made and by right the natural domain of the Orian Great Leader.
“Alessia. What a pleasure it is to finally see you again,” Sargon said, but his mildly caustic tone implied otherwise.
“Sargon?” I managed to sound detached, maybe even nonchalant. “What is this about?”
He ignored the question. “As you can see, I’ve been busy since the last time we spoke.” He said, gesturing around. “My people actually stand a chance of surviving the end of Orian now that I’m here to lead them. Don’t worry,” he said in triumph, “it will all be official in a matter of days.” He laughed. “I’m sure your friend Orashean will be pleased to hear the good news.” He added.
“Orashean isn’t my friend.” I corrected him. “I haven’t seen him since you tried to dispatch all of his bodyguards by yourself.”
“It doesn’t matter.” He rejoined dismissively. “It amounts to the same thing, anyway. Friend or de facto ally, whatever you wish to call it. Still I wish I could be there to witness his reaction myself. Not that I plan to honor him with a visit, mind you. There are far more important matters which require my attention than that odious little man.”
As he spoke, I found myself remembering that last day in Orashean’s discussion chamber. More than once, I had wished he had never left, so that I might at least teach him how to control his new powers and abilities.
I knew the hell he was going through. It wasn’t easy, to read another being’s thought before it was spoken. There were good thoughts for every bad one, of course, but you noticed the bad first. Every disgusting fantasy, every insult, every avaricious motive and base desire entered your mind easily. And they were hard to exorcise. That was how they worked their damage, corrupting your consciousness like spreading poison, poison that must be dug out. What could be left, after so many minds?
It would be a long and bitter internal struggle before he learned to accept and distance himself from these alien influences and could overlook the faults common to all of humanity, some of which he might not have known previously. Perhaps then he could focus on the benefits Hinev had intended his serum to achieve when it awoke so many dormant powers within us.
That had been the original purpose of Hinev, and the control group of subjects had shared these gifts; indeed, it had been crucial that the final serum group maintain a constant interaction in order for these abilities and emotions to emerge and grow.
And we had been able to shield our thoughts from one another in order to uphold our own personal freedom and privacy. We shared thoughts voluntarily to learn from one another, yet we lived in a society where our minds were our own, and our peers were equal in every respect.
Though my intentions had been good, I had condemned Sargon to isolation and strapped him with powers so great he had figuratively become a God among men—he could know whatever he wanted to know about anyone. The metamorphosis induced by alien blood had altered his soul a
nd left him with only his human body as the last remnant of any ordinary humanity.
I felt an abrupt sensation of guilt, guilt of the acutest kind—perhaps because I always tried to escape feeling any guilt, I felt it terribly at that moment.
Meanwhile, Sargon had waited unmoving, his face betraying self-doubt for only a moment. Yet when he spoke again, his words were softer.
“Alessia, I contacted you… to give you one last chance to join our cause.” He looked at me with intense blue eyes and spoke congenially, even gently. “You should want to join me, my sweet. Think of all the good you could do. And you yourself would not be as miserable here as… I know you are at present.” He paused a moment. “I’m sorry if I spoke harshly to you a moment ago. Shall we keep arguing every time we meet?” he asked, with an impatient sigh. “Or can I take your silence as a sign… that you’ll consider what I’m asking?”
“What about Orashean?” I asked, just to remind Sargon that there would be resistance to his plan as long as the Tiasennian leader built up his own personal army. “Neither I nor you can protect Orian’s entire population once they leave Selesta and migrate across Tiasenne.”
“He won’t be a problem for very much longer,” Sargon bit out.
“I see.” I said, then paused. “Tell me, do you really want to discuss politics with me, or did you arrange this communication just to deliver ultimatums? Are we all supposed to submit peacefully to you?”
For a moment, Sargon seemed unable to comprehend what I had said. Then his face seemed to turn three shades darker. His eyes flared. By degrees he worked himself into a furious state.
“And is that all you can say?!” He hurled back at last, glaring, livid at my unintended mockery, though he kept his voice low. This from a man who had once despised drama and hysterias, who had ridiculed emotions, before he himself had been assaulted by their horrific power. “Submission? Eternity’s cold gaze is staring into my soul, you know that it is, just as it wears away at you. It must!—or else there is no justice—”
“You speak of justice—”
“I have no intention of facing this hell alone!” he cried, refusing to be interrupted. “Submissive—if you change, if you dare change, you know I would be condemned to this neverending hell of loneliness forever, and I would hate you then, Alessia. How I would only hate you, as much as I still love you and despise you now—in spite of all that I have done to rid my mind of you! I can’t—you stole my peace of mind forever. You stole my soul, and I am a damned man, no, a damned creature. I am no longer even a man, thanks to you. But,” he said, his voice low and level but strained, “fight me for a while, and you will come around once you see and understand what must be—”
“To what end must I fight, or should I even ask?” I wondered at his strange discourse.
His eyes narrowed. “I’m only waiting for you to change your mind and stop acting like this—love me or not, but help me!” he said strangely. “Alessia, I am afraid. I may resort to evil. Remember that. And it was your doing, Alessia. I am giving you a chance, and the freedom to choose. I warn you: don’t force me to try to take everything from you by force someday. If I have to, I will have you create more immortals for me, or I will attempt it myself, for I will not remain like this, isolated and alone—”
“Enough!” I interrupted, recoiling from him; he caught my expression and his face glowered in surprise, but I continued, determined not to betray how much his words had affected me. “I can’t help you your way, but I can offer you some advice.”
He waited, bristling.
“Do what you have to do, but remember that whatever you do, you will always carry it with you. If you ever had a conscience, and I know you do have one, then your actions will weigh on your mind without mercy forever and ever, and you can’t get rid of the memories—no, Sargon, even you can’t get rid of them, not even with your power. Hinev’s serum has heightened your sense of empathy, just to torment you. So listen to me and take care what you do, or you will never know peace again—”
His eyes shifted uncomfortably.
“You can’t sleep, can you?” I asked, not expecting an answer. “I thought not. None of us could ever sleep much after the metamorphosis. Don’t forget that you’re going to have to live with yourself, that each day will come without rest or escape until this universe ends. Only the good that you bring to the world can lighten your burden. Regret—and evil mistakes, crimes—Sargon, they can only eat at your soul for all time.”
“And do you have any regrets, Alessia?” He asked, unmoved and bitter. “After all, you made me like this. I have come to evil, because of you, and you know it.”
I pulled out the receiver.
The Last Immortal : Book One of Seeds of a Fallen Empire Page 36