Reformation

by Henrikson, Mark

  Hastelloy looked out from his introspection to see his young adversary’s face radiant with pride. Everyone in the village knew full well Hastelloy did not relax his level of play for anyone. Young or old, wise or dim, the opponent was shown no quarter; how else could they learn to play properly?

  To his credit, the boy refrained from boasting with a triumphant shout or victory dance. Instead, the youth extended an open hand across the table. Hastelloy met the offered appendage with a stiff handshake. “Well played, Ashwin. Very, very well played.”

  “Thank you, Master Hastelloy.”

  His competitive nature was about to insist upon a grudge match, but the village chieftain’s approach altered Hastelloy’s intent. “Run along now, it appears a rematch will have to wait for another day.”

  Ashwin vacated the chair and bounded off to tell all his friends the incredible news leaving the chair open for the chieftain to sit down. “Did I just see what I thought I saw? The ruthless, unbeatable master finally lost a chess match. Now be honest, did you throw the game to bolster the confidence of your brightest student?”

  Hastelloy glared at the bearded man letting him know the idea of throwing a match was more insulting to him than the defeat itself. He allowed the look to soften before asking, “How does the harvest look this year?”

  The chieftain drew a deep breath to puff his chest up with pride. “Plentiful, but that is not why I am here. A messenger just arrived with a letter he insisted was most urgent.”

  Hastelloy took the folded piece of paper sealed with the wax imprint of Tonwen. “Thank you. Make sure the carts are covered and ready. We leave for market in the morning,” Hastelloy ordered and then dismissed the village chieftain with a sideways shrug of his head.

  Alone once more, Hastelloy looked down at the chessboard. Had all the years spent in the tiny farming village protecting the Nexus really dulled his abilities to the point he could lose to a child? He quickly pushed the thought aside as he opened the letter.

  Entire villages all across the Mediterranean coastline are dying from some sort of plague. It has all the markings of the Alpha Yersinia Pestis bioweapon. I am headed to Florence to join Valnor. Please send word to the others and come as quickly as possible.

  -Tonwen

  Hastelloy sprang to his feet and ran after the departing chieftain. Sprinting past the bearded man on his way to a horse Hastelloy hollered back, “I’m needed in Italy. I leave the village in your capable hands.”

  Chapter 18: Resolution

  Hastelloy rode alone on horseback through the streets of Florence, Italy. He would have preferred a quicker gate, but it seemed his mount stumbled every other stride upon the paved street that was in desperate need for repair.

  What a difference a few hundred years made, he thought as his horse nearly lost its footing once more. The stones, once perfectly fitted with Roman precision, now jutted and cratered at random intervals making the urban street nearly impassable.

  A crumbling infrastructure wasn’t the only change. The last time he was in Florence, even with chaos brewing just to the south in the city of Rome, it bustled with life and energy. Now the streets were completely empty, the grand theater and public gardens overgrown and crumbling from neglect. The partially finished skeleton of the Basilica di Santa Maria stood as if a monument to the city’s fallen stature.

  The ambitious cathedral had been under construction for a hundred years now. Hastelloy was no architectural expert, but by the look of things it would be at least a few hundred years more before completion.

  Hastelloy both admired and pitied the multigenerational project. The dedication was commendable, but the designer intended to cap the massive structure with a dome twice the size of any other in existence. The engineering knowledge to accomplish such a feat existed a thousand years ago in Rome as evidenced by the Pantheon and its grand dome, but no longer. Hastelloy feared the cathedral would long stand as a monument to his failure to protect mankind from Goron’s meddling.

  Rather than risk rendering his horse lame by traveling down the city’s decrepit center, Hastelloy chose a side street paved in dirt. Twenty yards ahead he observed a peasant struggling to haul a two-wheeled cart behind him. A rancid aroma wedged somewhere between spoiled meat and sour milk caused Hastelloy to cough and gag. The cargo hold of the wagon was covered with a tarp, but he did not need to see the contents to know what the man carried.

  Hastelloy brought his horse to a full stop and watched the peasant set his cart down in front of a house sporting a red stripe across the front door. He unfurled the cargo hold and then delivered two stiff knocks at the door. It opened, the man went in, and a few moments later he emerged carrying a dead woman with pitch black lesions on her neck, armpits and thighs. He placed the deceased in the wagon, pulled the cover back over the six bodies he carried and moved on to the next marked doorway.

  The putrid smell of death only worsened as Hastelloy made his way deeper toward the city center. Hastelloy only saw light from windows or smoke escaping from chimneys in one out of every five houses. By that evidence, he estimated the plague had already claimed a majority of the city’s inhabitants. The lucky few blessed with superior immune systems were left to manage a ghost town littered with diseased corpses. The once proud metropolis was unable to function with such losses, and the rest of Europe found itself in a similar way.

  Hastelloy finally made his way across the river and came to a crumbling two story structure. The front door was ajar and clung to the doorframe by a single hinge. He did not even bother knocking. He simply nudged the teetering door aside and allowed its thunderous crash to the floor to announce his arrival.

  The four men seated around a rectangular table in the center of the room looked up from their bowls of stew long enough to acknowledge the newcomer was indeed their captain.

  Valnor opened his arms slightly and gestured around the room. “Welcome to my humble abode,” as the broken glass, rotted floor boards and splintered furniture strewn about made quite an impression. So did a curious doll made from a potato sack with sewn buttons for eyes and a painted smile resting on the mantle above the fireplace.

  “I love what you’ve done with the place,” Hastelloy commented while kicking debris aside on his way to the table.

  “I’d have tidied up a bit for the arrival of such a wise and visionary guest, but I’ve been too busy caring for the sick and burying the dead. All this was caused by the Alpha relic who, despite lacking a body, continues to allude your brilliant schemes to find him,” Valnor responded with nearly tangible anger behind his words.

  Hastelloy took the hint and adjusted his tone accordingly. “What happened here?”

  “Everything was just fine up until about three months ago,” Valnor began. “The cathedral construction was coming along nicely. Commerce was good, the harvests were plentiful. Then one day it all just changed.”

  Valnor solemnly stared into his stew as he went on. “It started along the docks. A shipment of exotic spices and fabrics arrived from the coast. Some of the flat boat crewmen were already complaining of stiff joints and generally feeling ill. A few days later it seemed anyone who went to the market district developed black lumps all over and dropped dead inside of a week.

  “Panic ensued and people fled the city like it was an erupting volcano. The plague followed them though. It hounded everyone no matter where they went to hide. The countryside, other towns, it didn’t matter. The pestilence found them and killed them all.”

  Hastelloy realized Valnor was far too close to the situation to give an unbiased report so he turned to his science officer. “Tonwen, have you had a chance to examine the bodies? Is it really the Alpha Yersinia Pestis bioweapon?”

  “Without question it is the Alpha weapon,” came Tonwen’s sterile response. “It is fortunate these humans have exceptionally strong immune systems to fight off this plague.”

  At that moment Valnor looked ready to hurl his empty bowl at Tonwen’s head. “Nine out of te
n people have dropped dead! How is that good fortune?”

  “All three instances of the Alpha using the bioweapon before being banned resulted in complete annihilation,” Tonwen countered.

  “Casualty rates are even lower elsewhere,” Tomal added. “I came from the Germanic territories up north and there it is more like one in five has died. It did get worse the closer I came to the Mediterranean Sea, however.”

  “Regardless,” Valnor fired back, “this is a calamity, and it’s still going on. All our work over the centuries has been undone in a matter of months. So many have been lost these humans may never recover as a society. This would never have happened if you would have let me put the Roman Empire back together. We could have distributed a vaccine before it ever got this bad.”

  Hastelloy put his hand up to halt Valnor’s diatribe. “Tonwen. We have all been vaccinated against this virus. Can you use our blood to create a vaccine with the tools available?”

  “I already have,” Tonwen immediately answered. “Creating the vaccine is not the problem. It is producing and distributing the cure on a massive scale that is difficult.”

  “And expensive,” Gallono added.

  “A strong central government is the only way to do it,” Valnor jumped in, eager to push his secular agenda. “We start with one city state. Let it be known we have a cure for the plague and offer to share it with those who unite under our banner. Once the pandemic has passed the central government will be in position to support the arts and science, and we can get things moving in the right direction again.”

  The room remained quieter than the abandoned city streets outside for several minutes. Valnor’s mind was in an entirely wrong place. The kind of empire building he advocated was not the Novi way. In fact, it had all the ruthless markings of how the Alpha went about doing things.

  Hastelloy slowly unclasped his hands and set them flat on the table before speaking. “Even if I didn’t find the thought of extorting people’s allegiance in exchange for a cure completely repugnant, there is not enough time for it. In just a few short months this city was nearly wiped out, and this is going on all across Europe as we speak.”

  Valnor erupted to his feet. “What would you know about it? You’ve been insulated from it all living in Egypt. I’ve been stuck here living this nightmare day in and day out. This place, this whole continent is a hollow shell now thanks to you insisting we sit on the sidelines while Goron unleashed his poison across the landscape.”

  “You’re out of line, Ensign,” Gallono shouted in defense of his captain. “There is no way any of us could have known Goron would resort to this.”

  “It’s called being prepared,” Valnor countered directing his ire toward Hastelloy once more. “You used to be prepared for everything no matter how unlikely. If you can’t manage that any longer, then it’s up to me.”

  “Valnor,” Hastelloy said on the way to his feet. He reached for his subordinate’s arm, but was too slow. Valnor scooped the doll off the mantle on his way out the door without another word spoken.

  “Well at least I’m not the problem child this time around,” Tomal said quietly to lighten the mood, but he only received stern looks from the rest of the table. He dropped the self-righteous grin and asked, “Between the four of us then, what’s the plan?”

  Hastelloy resisted the urge to chase after Valnor. There was something more to his rage than just seeing the civilization he guided into a golden age regress. The anger was personal, but Hastelloy did not have the time to deal with it at the moment. He reluctantly turned his attention back to the table and shook off the uneasy feeling of self-doubt creeping its way into his mindset. Valnor was right; he should have seen this coming from Goron and been prepared. Had he underestimated his enemy? He set his self-doubt aside to give his orders to the remaining crewmen.

  “We will use the infrastructure already in place with the Catholic Church to distribute a cure. By definition public care and outreach is part of their mission, and they already have unparalleled reach and influence throughout Europe,” Hastelloy ordered.

  “Not to beat a dead horse here, but aren’t you concerned Goron has his tendrils into the Catholic Church already?” Tomal asked.

  “What proof do you have of that?” Hastelloy insisted.

  “History is my proof,” Tomal responded. “Pope Gregory the IX establishing the inquisitions to root out and punish heretics. Can you seriously tell me with a straight face that was not Goron using the church to carry out a hit list?”

  “Look at the Crusades,” Tomal went on. “Popes used religious coercion to send entire generations of Europe’s smartest and bravest to die of battle wounds and disease in a worthless desert in a far off land.”

  Hastelloy felt the discussion spiraling out of hand so he put a stop to it. “Tomal, ever since you broke away from Goron’s manipulation you see an Alpha conspiracy behind everything.”

  “Better to be paranoid than surprised,” Tomal countered.

  “Priority one is stopping the plague,” Hastelloy insisted. “Since millions of people are dying every week we need an immediate solution which means the Catholic Church. Tonwen, you will work to promote the church’s social and financial reach to speed along distribution of the cure. Tomal, you will help him.”

  Before Tomal could voice further protest Hastelloy added, “While you are at it, try and find more solid proof of Goron holding influence over the church. You may very well be right and we are helping to make that Alpha relic even stronger, but it is what’s required at the moment.”

  Hastelloy relaxed his stare affixed on Tomal to address the entire table. “Even when we manage to stop this plague, dark times are coming. We need to lay the foundation for a resurgence in technology and culture when the timing is right. While you two prod the church into helping with that effort, Gallono and I will remain here to keep commerce flowing throughout the region.”

  Hastelloy looked around the table and saw each of the crewmen lost in their own thoughts contemplating the scope and magnitude of their assignments. “This is why we get paid the big bags of coin, gentlemen, now let’s get to it.”

  Chapter 19: Assistance Is Necessary

  Kuanti knew it was coming, but that did nothing to prepare him for the sensation. Feeling the collective consciousness of several hundred thousand relics fade in and out of contact was like trying to watch a display monitor with a short in the power feed. After a few minutes of intermittent contact, they were just gone.

  “We are only in contact with Goron now,” Kuanti reported to the pilot who dutifully nodded his head in acknowledgement.

  Behind the pilot and navigator sat ten Alpha warriors with shoulders overlapping as they squeezed into five rows of seats that ran two across. Amplifying the claustrophobic ambiance was the ceiling resting mere inches above their heads. Completing the cramped accommodations was a narrow shelf along the back bulkhead that housed the flowing liquid metal relics of Kuanti and Cora. There were not many times Kuanti preferred existing as a relic rather than in a physical body, but this was definitely one of them.

  Most of the occupants were asleep trying to pass the three day journey from Mars to Earth with their eyes shut. The rest did not budge due to the complete lack of space in the tiny craft.

  Everyone would have preferred more room to stretch their legs during the journey, but the required metals were extremely difficult to mine and fabricate into durable alloys. The ship’s limited size was out of necessity rather than the designer’s masochistic intent to inflict torture upon the occupants. Lesser men would have lost their minds even before leaving Mars orbit; these Alpha were strong. They would perform quite well at their tasks on the third planet.

  “We should enter Earth orbit in about two hours,” the navigator reported. “I need coordinates of the landing site from Captain Goron.”

  “Give me a moment,” Kuanti replied and then turned all his thoughts and concentration to the now vastly diminished collective: just him, Cora a
nd Goron. “We are on final approach and need to know your exact location.”

  A curt mental reply came firing back, “I am on the western end of the largest continent in the northern hemisphere, but that is irrelevant for you. I need you to land on the eastern end of this landmass.”

  “Why? Shouldn’t we come together and fight the Novi as one rather than divided? The plan is we land and help you locate the jamming signal while the second transport ship is completed. Then, if needed, it will bring the remaining fifty thousand Alpha warriors from our colony so we can take over this planet and defeat the Novi.”

  Goron’s mind let loose a chuckle that a parent reserves for when their young toddler asks a blatantly obvious question. “These humans are extremely capable beings, Kuanti. Fifty thousand of us, even with advanced weapons, would have a very hard time subjugating a billion of them. I have seen them accomplish remarkable feats when they rally behind a common cause. There is no need to provoke them.”

  “What do you suggest then?”

  “Use them, don’t fight them,” Goron responded. “Humans in the west are quite pious, and I have significant influence over their religion. They will do as I command when the time comes. People in the east are another matter. They respond to strength.”

  “If my informants are correct, the mountainous region in the far east is home to the Mongol tribe. A great warrior named Genghis Khan united the tribes and conquered much of the west. Now his grandson has his ambitions pointed east, but he lacks the strength to accomplish the conquest. I think you should get to know this man and fuel his ambitions and capabilities.”

  “You expect us to find one man,” Kuanti responded with disappointment. “You want us to hide in the shadows and help this one primitive conquer a territory rather than seek out the Novi directly and destroy them once and for all?”

  “Precisely, and take care not to draw attention to yourselves. A pack of seven foot hound warriors is bound to draw rumors and stories that the Novi will get wind of eventually. We need that time to be as delayed as possible so that when that all too clever Novi captain realizes what is going on it will be too late. We will have him surrounded and outnumbered a million to one with our loyal followers. No one, not even his keen mind, can withstand those odds.”