Wave Mandate

by Schneider, A. C.

  Now it was Kelerin’s turn to show intransigence. He set his feet, folded his arms and made it clear he had no intention of leaving until he was granted an audience with the Headmaster.

  Halbard sighed for the second time and stretched out his hand in invitation. “Or, you can wait.”

  Kelerin turned to see Halbard indicating the small, uncomfortable bench he and Dunner had been sitting on.

  “I’ll wait,” he said flatly.

  Chapter 21: Homecoming

  The Headmaster’s Compound - Academy Island, Osmos

  “Listen,” said Jonas at the threshold to the Headmaster’s office. Both his hands were raised, palms out, a conciliatory gesture requesting pause and a chance to explain himself. “I just wanted to apologize again for appearing out of nowhere like that-”

  “Shh, shh.” Orisius had been standing inside the doorway to his office, one finger was raised to his lips as he cocked his head sideways toward the inside of the room, an invitation that also suggested it would be better if they talked about it inside.

  This was the second time that day the Headmaster had shut Jonas down. The first had been when the two got into the Headmaster’s transport heading back to the Academy. Orisius ushered Jonas out of the Representatives’ Chamber so quickly Jonas could only assume a surprise homecoming was not the best way to announce his return, despite his initial summation of events. He feared as much back when he was weighing his options.

  Hearing that Parliament was meeting in a special session, he thought it an opportunity to announce his return and the end of the Mandate Race to all leaders of Osmos in one fell swoop. He’d hoped the shock of his sudden arrival would fade quickly, replaced by a collective curiosity that could possibly go some lengths in bridging the cultural, political and philosophical gaps dividing many of the key actors within Parliament. However, he hadn’t been completely convinced of the soundness of his idea. There was always the not-so-off chance that his surprise would backfire, stirring up long standing feuds sown deep within the tapestry of what was Osmos’ socio-cultural fabric, pulling threads further apart rather than mending them. Judging by the way the Headmaster reacted, it looked like his fears were justified.

  Accepting his fate and any castigating that was yet to come as a result of his decision, Jonas dropped his hands and entered the room, brushing by Orisius, who was still standing in the doorway with one hand stretching into the office indicating the guest chair where Jonas was to sit.

  The office was small, much smaller than one might expect given the large anteroom and the tall, narrow doors leading into it. The high ceiling did little to relieve the claustrophobic air brought on by close quarter, shelf-lined walls housing countless books reaching all the way to the pinnacle of the domed ceiling and threatening any and all occupants with the prospect of being buried alive under a literary landslide of facts and figures, histories and theories. The Headmaster, for his part, thought it all very cozy. There was enough room for himself, his desk and a single guest chair directly opposite.

  Orisius always met with his visitors one-on-one, finding it more conducive to getting down to the heart of a matter that way. He also discovered it was ideal for effecting change in another’s thinking, while at the same time instilling the necessary motivation to act on that change. Orisius had learned these nuanced techniques long ago and it was one of the many reasons why he was so successful in his position as Headmaster, a position as much political as it was educational.

  In lieu of all this, many Academics found a private meeting with the Headmaster to be a rather unsavory proposition. Not Jonas, though. He always had an easygoing relationship with his mentor, confident enough in his own outlook and trusting the Headmaster as a source of insight for its healthy evolution. Change was not something Jonas feared and this made him a favorite of Orisius’ in return.

  Jonas stood waiting by the guest chair. The Headmaster closed the door, shimmied sideways around the desk to his own chair, sat down and motioned for Jonas to do the same, brushing off the younger man’s properness as unnecessary. “Sit, sit already.”

  Jonas did as he was told and repressed the urge to begin restating his case for the third time, sitting erect, ready for whatever reproof was to come. The Headmaster regarded his pupil for a time, his head back and looking down through a keen, slit-eyed stare. Several moments passed before he reached down and opened a drawer on the lower left hand side of his desk, pulled out a bottle of Tarak and set it down in front of him with a dramatic clop. “Welcome home.”

  Jonas laughed with relief. “Indeed.”

  “I suppose simply asking you how your trip went would seem an impossible question to answer.”

  Jonas nodded in agreement, reaching across the desk and taking the glass of Tarak the Headmaster had just poured and offered him. “It would, Headmaster.”

  “Is yours the only ship that made it?”

  “I believe so.”

  The answer had an air of solemnity to it that Orisius matched, holding up his glass and saluting, “To the rest.”

  Jonas marveled at how his mentor always found a way to make the impossible possible, in this case, an appropriate toast. He lifted his glass to meet the Headmaster’s, “To the rest,” he offered in answer. They downed their glasses and the Headmaster immediately began refilling, talking as he did so.

  “You know the Teacher I had take your ship back to the Academy?”

  “Askern. Yes. Good man.”

  “He is a good man. Well, he told me that the ship you had at Parliament wasn’t Blumbrock’s. It wasn’t your cruiser from the race?”

  Jonas smiled coyly. “Askern is correct.”

  The Headmaster looked like he wanted to say something else on the matter but quietly regarded Jonas instead, allowing the silence to simmer for a spell before changing subjects. “Interesting choice of timing and venue to announce your return.”

  Jonas turned serious. He’d thought he was out of the woods on that one. “I’m very sorry about that.”

  “Don’t be. It was good that you did it this way, very good.”

  “You didn’t seem to think so when you rushed me out of there?”

  Orisius smiled knowingly. “It was good you announced your return when you did, and it was good I cut you off when I did. Things have gotten… complicated while you were gone.”

  “They were complicated when I left.”

  “Yes, well, same complications and a much deteriorated situation.” The Headmaster took another sip of the Tarak and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the old desk. “Off-planet mining has increased at a fantastic rate. It’s now responsible for a full third of all Osmos’ energy consumption and it’s on pace to catch up with the Black Ranges pretty soon. Within the next ten years it should overtake the Ranges, and that’s by conservative estimates, some people have it at five.”

  Jonas was astonished. “How is that even possible?”

  “Technology. How else?” The Headmaster leaned back again in his chair, swirling his glass under his nose and inhaling its smoky flavor. “Technology is outpacing policy and the current diplomatic reality is not ready for it, Jonas. Not even close. Do you know what the second fastest growing industry in Osmos is, after energy?” Jonas shook his head in the negative. “Raiding. Not engineering. Not trade or manufacturing. Raiding. It used to be we’d have an incident once every few years. When the mining first started on Caras 3 it jumped to once every couple of months. We’re at several times a week now.”

  “What about the Guard?”

  “The Island Guard can’t do anything. Even if they did have the strategy and policy in place, which they don’t, they don’t have anywhere close to the necessary bandwidth, not financial or human capital. The people are getting restless. Some Islands want to make peace with the Mainlanders. Others want action. The problem is, those same Island Representatives cowing to the will of their constituents and calling for action have been lining their pockets with Ipsidian based wealth while filling
Mainland arsenals to the brim with all the latest tech.”

  Jonas couldn’t believe it was as bad as all that. “I thought the provision for barter and trade was limited to small arms?”

  The Headmaster allowed himself a jaded chuckle. “What’s the legal definition of small arms - do you know?”

  “No,” admitted Jonas.

  “Neither does Parliament. They never defined it. Besides, there are plenty of other workarounds for the clever minded businessman. The Mainland’s motivated, Island corporate is all too happy to oblige. Oh, and as far as peace goes, well, let’s put it this way - I imagine you’re familiar with the old Clan word for peace?”

  “Fryer.”

  “A common misconception. Fryer means truce in old Clan. They don’t have a word for peace. Just a state of not trying to kill you.”

  Jonas didn’t really know what to say. It was all very depressing but where was the Headmaster going with this?

  Orisius admired the liquid in his glass, as if its golden hue might provide some insight. “It’s interesting, Jonas. For all of Parliament’s ineptitude, they do represent a fairly accurate microcosm of public sentiment, where it stands and whatnot. If you hadn’t walked in when you did I would have given that Chamber about ten more seconds before it tore itself apart.” Dropping his air of aloofness, he eyed Jonas shrewdly and asked, “How much time do you think that gives the rest of Osmos?”

  “Hmph,” Jonas intoned, conceding the point - though noting, “But they didn’t tear each other apart.”

  “Because of you. These people aren’t bad by nature; the greedy corporations, the corrupt politicians, even the Mainlanders - I tell you, in some ways you have to admire the brutal conformity of those tribal savages.”

  “Admire?” Jonas was aghast at the notion.

  “All of them, what they need is an ethos, Jonas, an idea worthy enough to live by. You, your return, the possibility of a Mandate, an unsown blank slate ripe for the cultivation of a completely new world based upon such a pure idea - it gives them hope.”

  “I thought Mainlanders already have an ethos.”

  “Baah,” Orisius dismissed the suggestion with an annoyed flourish of his hands, “The wrong one!”

  “That’s not what the Mandate is. It won’t solve all the problems Osmos faces.”

  “I gather you’re correct about that, but they don’t know it. And that’s why I had to rush you out of there, to keep that raw hope from becoming a tangible disappointment.”

  “Is that what you think the Mandate will become?”

  “Depends. An idea is the most powerful thing in the universe, Jonas. The Mandate has been designated as the physical manifestation of that power by the governments of this planet, for better or worse. Your ship, with the only copy of the Mandate’s coordinates stored in its navigation system, is the key to that power. The answer to your question may very well depend on who ends up getting their hands on your ship.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Everyone will have a shot at governing the Mandate, beginning with Isle Castious. It’s their ship. They financed it. It was clear in rules and all parties signed on.”

  “Oh, Jonas,” sung the Headmaster, amused by his favorite pupil’s innocence, “do you really think the Mainlanders, or even the other Islands for that matter, are going to allow the rules of a race, words written on a scrap of paper, a game really, to stop them from seizing this opportunity when it’s right within their grasp?” The Headmaster held out his hand and grabbed at the air demonstrably.

  “I would like to believe so.”

  “We’d all like to believe so, Jonas, but we can’t afford to be naïve about it.” Leaning so far forward he nearly lay on the desk, Orisius looked up to meet Jonas’ eyes. “Make no mistake,” he warned, urging Jonas to understand, “your ship is now the single most sought after object on Osmos. That ship has to be protected from all manner of advances. An Antenna Storm might save it from theft, but it won’t protect it from politics.”

  Jonas supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised the Headmaster knew what he’d done with the cruiser but he was nonetheless. Orisius got to the point. “The Prophecy doesn’t have the experience or the strength of institution to remain an honest broker in the face of the kind of pressure that’s about to come to bear. You have to bring the ship back here, Jonas, to the Academy. It’s the only place where it will be safe.”

  Chapter 22: Notice

  The Headmaster’s Compound - Academy Island, Osmos

  Jonas felt the scene playing out for him in reverse, with the Headmaster standing inside the threshold and propping open one of the two narrow wooden doors to the office, this time inviting him to leave.

  As he stepped out from that cramped inner sanctum of Academia and into the comparably massive antechamber on the other side, he took a deep breath in the hopes of shaking off any lingering sense of claustrophobia before moving on. Disappointedly, he found the action not to be all that effective.

  Instead, he turned his thoughts to the chamber before him noticing several differences in its character, all likely consequences of the uncommon hour. The lights had long since been turned off and the resulting darkness hollowed out the room’s insides making them seem brittle, as if merely entering might cause something to break. It occurred to Jonas that the chamber had already been dark when he and Orisius first arrived about an hour ago, but somehow he was more aware of it now. The more he thought about it, a number of things having previously escaped him were newly apparent following his conversation with the Headmaster.

  Before their talk Jonas had been completely preoccupied with the responsibility he bore for what he had been charged by fate to protect. But he had since abdicated that responsibility over to the Academy. He was now free. Free to think. Free to notice.

  Everything was coming into focus, and not just details about the room. How he’d greeted Erin back at the Prophecy, for instance. Two long years she’d been a part of him; all they’d gone through together, discussed with each other, revealed to one another. He finally had the chance to see her in person for the first time in all that time, and what does he do? Barely so much as a hello and he asks her to treat Gensala.

  How difficult that must have been for her, all the more so given his complete lack of hesitation in asking? The entire time he’d been racing across the stars Erin had given of herself completely to him and to the mission. Now he was back and she was continuing to give, selflessly and completely. When was he going to be finished asking her to sacrifice? She deserved more, she deserved better. He would be seeing her soon. Perhaps once he finished handing over charge of the cruiser to Orisius and the Academy he would have the chance to speak with her, make things right.

  All these thoughts flashed through Jonas’ mind while he paused outside the Headmaster’s office. It was only a moment of pondering but it was enough to spark the curiosity of Orisius and Jonas could feel the Headmaster’s eyes boring into the back of his skull. Not wanting to draw any more unnecessary attention to himself, he collected his thoughts and began making his way across the length of the chamber, boots clicking on the floor and sending out echoes of his footsteps off into the hollow.

  As he walked, something besides for the way he’d treated Erin began to unsettle him, something more immediate. The room should have been empty and yet Jonas couldn’t shake the feeling he and the Headmaster were not the only ones in there. Someone or something had already disturbed the afterhours silence even before he and Orisius had arrived.

  It was then that Jonas noticed him. A silhouette lying on the visitor’s bench, presumably a Student who’d fallen asleep while waiting to meet with the Headmaster for some built-up urgency or other that couldn’t wait till morning. He couldn’t recall seeing this person earlier when he’d first entered the room, but then again, he didn’t recall much of anything detail wise from before he and Orisius had cracked opened that bottle of Tarak.

  Something about the Student on the bench drew his attention. When h
e got closer he realized what it was, or more accurately, who it was.

  It had been two years since Jonas had seen Kelerin. He never told him, but even before leaving for the Mandate Race he knew the boy would be the one thing he missed most while away. And now that he’d returned, seeing him lying there on the bench, it all came rushing back: The emotional void he’d felt, day-in/day-out. The cognizance that each and every hour he was gone he was missing out on a little bit more of the young man’s development. Standing in the middle of the antechamber he could now see what all that lost time added up to in flesh and blood reality.

  Kelerin had grown, not so much in height, but he wasn’t the lanky, awkward teenager Jonas bid farewell to two years prior. His shoulders had filled out while his face had chiseled down, the corners of his mouth now lined where once they were round. Yes, this Student had gained some experience over the past two years, Jonas could tell just by looking at him. He’d grown up.

  “Are you coming?”

  Orisius was already waiting by the exit. Jonas hadn’t realized he’d stopped walking when he discovered Kelerin. “If you don’t mind, Headmaster, I’ll catch up with you at the transport. There’s someone I have to say hello to first.”

  Shifting his gaze to the slumbering Student, Orisius grunted in a way that led Jonas to believe his mentor understood much more about the scene than was readily apparent. Not just that it was Kelerin lying there, for instance, but why Jonas wanted to speak with him, and even perhaps why Kelerin was camping out in his office in the middle of the night. Before Jonas could press his mentor as to how he knew any of these things, Orisius had already left.

  Making his way over to the bench, Jonas took advantage of Kelerin’s unconscious state to study him without pretext. The vulnerability brought on by sleep allowed him to see past the changes rendered by experience, all the way back to the young, wonderstruck-boy of the Academy for whom to Jonas, Kelerin would always remain. Crouching down beside the bench and gently nudging the boy, Jonas called to him quietly, “Hey… Hey, Kelerin. Wake up.”