Origins_Revolution

by Mark Henrikson

  It was in that moment that Valnor realized this was another sort of man. Washington claimed to be a selfless servant of the people, and above all logic and natural impulses, he actually was that selfless servant. Unfortunately for Valnor and his Novi crew, he served an entity that fought against them, but he did it out of selfless service. Valnor both loved and hated him for that fact.

  “I hope this settles the issue of lifetime appointments so that we may return to electing my Vice President,” Washington concluded.

  “Not so long as my honor has been so publicly besmeared by this son-of-a-bitch,” Aaron Burr insisted. “I demand a duel to settle this you bastard.”

  “That is a bit extreme,” Valnor said in an attempt to defuse the situation. “You have my apology for speaking out of turn, sir.”

  “Not good enough,” Burr bellowed. “Pistols at dawn!”

  “It is his right to seek satisfaction,” someone shouted and a vast majority of the room add their agreement.

  Valnor looked around the chamber to confirm the sentiment was an overwhelming majority before his eyes found those of Washington. The passive, almost pleasant expression revealed the truth of things.

  Not only had he avoided Valnor’s trap of temptation for power, Washington had ensnared Valnor in a ploy of his own. For further evidence of this, he looked to his friend Patrick Henry. He found a pair of venomous eyes staring back at him, and not a hint of stage fright that caught his tongue a few moments before. It was all a ruse and Valnor fell for it.

  “Duels are illegal in New York State, and certainly not befitting a candidate for Vice President,” Valnor stated in a rather transparent attempt to get out of the situation.

  “I drop my candidacy for Vice President then, and the duel can be held across the river in New Jersey where honorable combat is allowed,” Aaron Burr countered.

  Before Valnor could mouth another attempt to dissuade his opponent, he felt a heavy hand land on his shoulder. He turned to see the owner was Thomas Jefferson. “I volunteer to serve as Mr. Hamilton’s second.”

  “That should preclude Mr. Jefferson from consideration for Vice President then,” John Adams demanded from across the room.

  “Yes, John, and that makes you Vice President. Congratulations and well done,” Thomas Jefferson said with heavy sarcasm over his shoulder. “There are things more important than grabs for power, like battles for integrity and honor. If you need a lesson in those virtues, I suggest you have a long talk with your President. There is little question that he has them well in hand.”

  “Very well, Mr. John Adams will serve as Vice President,” John Hancock announced, punctuating his words with a loud bang of his gavel. “Now everyone please return to your seats so that we may address another issue that divides us. There is still the matter of what to do about slavery. Mr. Jefferson, I believe you have a compromise to propose.”

  With Mr. Jefferson so theatrically stepping down from consideration for Vice President in favor of finalizing the duel between Valnor and Aaron Burr, he had no difficulty holding the room’s attention. Everyone except for Valnor that is. His mind was busy contemplating his complete failure and pending gun battle in the morning.

  Chapter 47: Pistols at Dawn

  For Valnor the day of July 11th started much like any other. A rooster crow roused him from his bed. He adorned a fine woolen suit and pressed shirt for the day, and enjoyed a nice breakfast of toast and eggs with coffee. The only break from the routine came when he left his house and headed for the banks of the Hudson River rather than New York’s old City Hall, recently renovated to serve as the nation’s first capital, now dubbed Federal Hall.

  Along the shore he found two rowboats approximately a quarter mile apart from each other. Equidistant between them stood a gathering of three well-dressed men. Standing next to the farthest boat, two boys hired as rowers for the skiff were waiting. Aaron Burr stood next to his second, William Van Ness, while Thomas Jefferson stood apart from them and awaited Valnor’s arrival to serve as his second.

  “The good lord has surely blessed us with a fine day for the occasion,” Valnor called out as he approached the group.

  “That he has,” Mr. Jefferson answered.

  “We wouldn’t want you collapsing to the ground and be forced to look up at a cloudy sky while you die, now would we?” Aaron Burr mocked.

  “It’s still not too late to call off this affair,” Valnor offered. “We can both fire our shots into the ground and walk away with honor satisfied.”

  The very suggestion of not shooting to kill brought a snarl to Burr’s face. Had the man carried a loaded pistol at that moment, he likely would have shot Valnor where he stood, the rules of proper dueling conduct be damned. “You do with your shot as you please, mine will not find the ground.”

  “You only confirm my disparaging remarks with your every action,” Valnor countered before changing the subject to legal concerns. “Since dueling is now illegal in the state of New York, these boats are to transport us to the Heights of Weehawken across the river in New Jersey.”

  “I did my research and found that dueling is also illegal in New Jersey,” Aaron Burr objected with a smug satisfaction at being able to flex his legal knowledge.

  “Yes, but authorities have shown themselves far less likely to prosecute in that state. There have been 18 confirmed duels there since the law changed, and no charges were brought in any of those cases,” Valnor responded to one-up the display of familiarity with the law.

  “Suits me just fine then, but I do need to add some stipulations to protect the seconds and my rowers. The pistols will remain in the portmanteau aboard my boat. Only Mr. Alexander Hamilton or I may open it. That way each of you may honestly say under oath that you saw no pistols,” Aaron Burr said giving a polite nod toward everyone except Valnor before continuing. “I also demand the witnesses stand with their backs to the duel to allow testimony that you saw no duel either.”

  “Agreed,” Valnor said with a slight laugh at how thinly Mr. Burr was slicing his legal hairs.

  “Very well, we will meet you gentlemen on the other side then,” Van Ness said, and began walking toward his assigned boat with Mr. Burr in tow.

  That left Valnor to approach his boat, which conspicuously had no rowers, with Thomas Jefferson. It was an odd pairing considering the two had only exchanged pleasantries a handful of times, and never shared more than a few words on those rare occasions. In short, Valnor and Thomas Jefferson did not know one another at all.

  “Looks like we are on our own to row this craft across the river,” Valnor said to break the awkward silence.

  “I prefer it that way,” Mr. Jefferson said as he climbed aboard the tiny boat. “The solitude gives you and me some time to get acquainted.”

  “Not to be rude,” Valnor said with a grunt as he pushed their flotilla off the sandy shore and into the river waters before scampering aboard. “I am heading to a duel and I don’t feel much like talking. I am, however, a little curious why you volunteered as my second. It was political suicide and you don’t even know me. What have I done to carry your favor?”

  “I wouldn’t let this duel worry you so much. I’m familiar with both your war records. You are a fine shot, and a quick one at that. This should be an easy victory,” Mr. Jefferson assured him.

  “This duel is the least of my worries,” Valnor let slip his lips before thinking through his words. He did not know Thomas Jefferson well, but he did know him to be a brilliant and inquisitive man. He would probe deeper into things he ought not know.

  “I wouldn’t let President Washington and his inner circle Freemasons gaining control of this continent worry you too much either,” Mr. Jefferson said mid-rowing stroke before cracking a sly grin. “I always have a backup plan.”

  Valnor nearly lurched out of the boat in surprise before settling down to look Thomas Jefferson in the eyes. Was it really him? “Captain Hastelloy?” Valnor finally asked in his native Novi language.

 
“In the flesh,” the captain answered in the same tongue before shifting back to using English. “While you’ve worked to liberate this new nation from England, I’ve labored to craft its founding documents.”

  The sensation of total surprise gave way to acceptance, and then Valnor quickly felt himself suppressing a fit of anger. He was tempted to use his oar to smack his captain across the skull. “All this time and you never saw fit to tell me you were here again?”

  “I needed to see how you handled yourself on your own against so much adversity,” Hastelloy answered without a hint of apology in his tone. “You did extremely well by the way. Right up until the point where all your brilliant planning went to hell on you in a hurry. From that point on, you reacted out of knee-jerk desperation with flawed rationalizations convincing you that a single plan of action was all you had available. Worse yet, that flawed reasoning made you think that plan was actually a good one.”

  “How in the world was I supposed to know that General Washington was an inner-circle Freemason, the Freemason in this part of the world?” Valnor protested. “All of their efforts were supposed to be directed toward controlling European affairs. They sent all of the troublemakers over here to make the task easier.”

  “Your error was not in failing to recognize Washington as your enemy; I only recently figured that fact out for myself. Your mistake was in not bracing for the possibility that the 34th degree masons were at work over here,” Hastelloy instructed. “The very nature of their organization is to control and acquire knowledge. Of course, they still employed assets in this part of the world. The only surprise was that asset was so close and busy manipulating you. Your lack of anticipation left you scrambling for a last second plan, and clearly you suck at those considering it ended with the Masons controlling the country and you on your way to a deadly duel.”

  “I also misread Washington as an individual,” Valnor admitted. “I thought his sense of honesty and honor in all things was false bravado. I was certain the temptation of trying to rule as a monarch would be too much for him to pass up. His sense of honor even managed to win over Paul, a boy I basically raised for almost twenty years. In the end, all Paul saw of me was dishonesty and manipulation, even though it was for the right reasons.”

  “Trickery and deception can be powerful tools when employed to win over specific circumstances that are short-lived and soon forgotten. Over the long haul, men will always follow honesty and honor. Both can be useful tools, or deadly missteps. It just depends on the circumstance, and it falls to you to judge that circumstance.”

  “Speaking of circumstance, what about Washington and his fellow 34th degree Freemasons having total control over this new nation I helped liberate for them,” Valnor asked.

  “Remember, I had the task of crafting that nation’s founding documents,” Hastelloy answered. “That gave me the opportunity to slip in some poison pill clauses that will eventually rip the Freemasons away from power.”

  “What…how?”

  “One word – slavery,” Hastelloy announced. “The northern states see it as an amoral practice and seek to ban it. The southern states and their prospering economies thrive on the backs of slavery and won’t stand for its abolition. Washington himself owns hundreds of slaves. A house divided will not stand for long, and the Freemasons will have no choice but to throw their weight behind the slave cause in order to sustain the entire nation’s economy since it is so dependent on slavery.”

  “Like Section 9 that forbids the Federal Government from banning the importation of slaves before 1808. Or Section 2, which prohibits states from freeing slaves who flee across state lines and requires the return of ‘chattel property’ to its owners,” Valnor recited.

  “The real divisive issue will be the compromise worked out yesterday amid the turmoil of this duel,” Hastelloy added. “Counting slaves at three-fifths their total number toward official population to set Congressional representation seats will give the slave states an outsized political influence going forward.”

  “It will take time, but I can see a civil war being provoked eventually,” Valnor concluded.

  “We’ll make sure of it,” Hastelloy added as he gave one last, hard stroke to land them on the New Jersey shore. “For right now, we are out of time.”

  Valnor climbed out of the boat in a far better mood than when he climbed aboard. He made his way over to the dueling grounds below the towering cliffs of the Palisades where William Van Ness was busy clearing away the last bits of underbrush.

  “The challenge was issued by Mr. Burr to Mr. Hamilton,” Van Ness said on approach to the two opponents. “That leaves Mr. Hamilton the choice of weapon and position. Where will you stand, sir?”

  Valnor looked to the east and found the sun creeping over the horizon to provide some blinding effect to the combatant forced to face east. With that in mind he announced, “I will stand on the eastern side.”

  “Very well,” Van Ness affirmed. “Then from this point on, as requested earlier, the seconds will stand with our backs to this…gathering.”

  When the seconds complied, Aaron Burr opened the large case at his feet to reveal two identical dueling pistols. “Your choice, but it doesn’t really matter. You’re a dead man in a few short minutes.”

  “It’s still not too late,” Valnor offered one last time. “There is no real reason for this extreme.”

  “President Washington wants you dead and that is reason enough for me. I’d take on the devil himself for him.”

  “Yeah, I hear that a lot these days,” Valnor sighed before grabbing one of the pistols. He checked the weight, and then took his time loading the weapon before striding to his assigned spot with a still rather dim rising sun behind him.

  “Ready,” Aaron Burr announced.

  “Turn, take aim, and fire at will,” Van Ness declared with his back still turned to the duel.

  Valnor closed one eye and sighted the other straight down the pistol’s short barrel to line up a true shot at Mr. Burr’s chest. He had his opponent beat to the shot before the man could even raise his weapon. Valnor had no particular issue with the man and carried no desire to kill him, so he waited. He waited for Burr to either waste his shot into the ground, or try to lift his arm, in which case the man would be dead.

  From the corner of his eye, Valnor spotted a flash of movement. He opened his other eye for a better look and found that Van Ness had turned around to face the duel and now pointed a pistol of his own at Valnor. Before the breach of decorum could even process, the man pulled his trigger and the ball struck Valnor in his lower abdomen. The blow threw him off balance as he pulled the trigger on his own weapon and sent the bullet harmlessly over Mr. Burr’s head to strike a tree branch several feet above.

  Valnor collapsed to the ground in agony and knew that the wound was a mortal one for this body. Van Ness quickly hid his weapon and replaced it with an umbrella that he opened and drew Aaron Burr close to shroud their exit from the scene.

  Hastelloy, masquerading as Thomas Jefferson, ran over to Valnor on the ground to assess the damage. He quickly reached the same conclusion as Valnor, it was a fatal blow. “How did he get a shot off before you?”

  “He didn’t,” Valnor announced with the darkness of tunnel vision settling in. “Van Ness fired the shot from my blind side. It had to be Washington’s idea; Burr said he wanted me dead. It seems I misread him yet again. It seems Washington is not nearly as honorable as we both thought.”

  “Like I told you, deceit can be useful in isolated situations that are quickly forgotten. Do you think anyone will remember this?” Hastelloy asked.

  “Either that, or Burr is more of a bastard than we thought and set this up on his own,” Valnor managed to say before his breath left him completely.

  Epilogue: The Road Less Traveled

  Valnor opened his eyes and he took a deep, thoughtful breath. The stale air and soft hum of the ion engines coursing through the deck plates reminded him of his current predicam
ent. He had a decision to make: join forces with Gentem and his fellow hardliners, or betray them to Species Delta, a race who shared his ethics and ideals.

  The answer struck him with the simplicity of the single word ‘betray’. Joining forces with Species Delta would require a betrayal of his own people. If he learned anything from his experiences with General Washington and the American Revolution, it was that people follow honor above all other things.

  The easiest course of action was to see Gentem and his faction obliterated, but that would only be a short-term victory. Valnor was playing the long game now, and that required honesty and integrity.

  That still left the issue that Gentem would undoubtedly try to betray Valnor in the pending battle. He could see it in his mind, clear as if it were playing out across a view screen in front of him. Gentem and his forces sitting at the rear of the battle let Valnor’s fleet take it on the chin. Then Gentem’s ships would swoop in to save the day.

  That would allow him to play the part of war hero in the eyes of the Novi people. It would draw the remaining fence sitters over to Gentem’s side of things, while at the same time decimating Valnor’s future ability to fight his nationalist faction.

  It made Valnor think back to the wise words of Sun Tzu, ‘an ally you cannot trust was no ally at all.’ He may not be able to trust Gentem, but he did understand him enough to read and predict his actions. That was good enough for the moment, though getting his forces to participate in the battle in earnest would require a short-term deception easily forgiven, if not forgotten entirely.

  With that in mind, Valnor worked up a few minor changes to the fleet deployment plan before tapping the intercom built into the wall above his bed. “Commander Gallono, I am sending you a new fleet deployment schematic. See to it that the constrainer ships receive their new instructions.”

  After a few moments of silence, Gallono spoke his concern. “This will put most of the constrainer ships closer to the fighting. Are you sure that’s wise considering they are all but unarmed?”