Rise of the Forgotten

by Rebecca Mickley

  I had spent enough time in my life these last few months on the edges of existential crisis, where I knew there was no answer to be had in the constant reflection. There was nothing at all that could be done but keep living.

  It was the tradition, all I knew, stretching back to my ancestors. Their memories and experiences riding along with me, telling me that this was what it meant to be alive, to struggle, to weep, to change.

  Looking back, somehow even the pain of the distant past was gaining a noble sheen. Such a curious business this ‘being alive’ was turning out to be.

  At least Erebus was gone. There was no way anyone at the Hague could have survived the event. It was a shallow comfort. Too many innocents had paid to put him into his grave.

  “Let’s go check on Harper,” I offered suddenly, spurred perhaps by my reflection, or a desperate need to escape it. Tiny points of light in a sea of infinite dark, clinging together for what warmth and support they could find.

  Call it gravity, call it physics, call it love.

  Life would continue and, maybe that was all I really needed.

  The inevitable march of time, and my internal clock spurred me on, quietly, surreptitiously through the 889’s systems. I began talking with the Excalibur in orbit, scheduling my dock and arranging for flight control. Centioc One was not a heavily controlled air space, so it proved no real challenge.

  I wanted to surprise my friend.

  “Final call for boarding to the Excalibur,” I shouted out to Jill, who moved up the ramp with all the grace and nobility she was known for. We met in the cockpit of the 889, but I ended up following her to my seat, just like old times.

  It was an amusing image, especially when I considered that she was supposed to be the aide.

  Hopping in the chair, I let my awareness extend out to the ship’s sensors, but I stayed with my onboard. A run amongst the stars into orbit would have been grand, but Jill was here, and for now, it felt better to talk.

  “So tell me, how are things going with the colony?” I asked as the ramp raised, and I made sure the course was entered into the computer correctly. The 889 glided effortlessly, ascending into the air as if motion was an afterthought.

  “The Mendians are a lot easier to work with than the Colonial Exchange, and they are providing us with some pretty substantial construction help. All projections are six months ahead of schedule based off the old plan, but as I said, we aren’t dealing with nearly as many headaches." She turned and looked out the window, perhaps reflecting just as I was.

  "Less need for little white pills is always good," I joked, and her ears flattened as she shot me a look.

  My favorite part of the journey was occurring, the sky fell away to the infinite night, revealing the tapestry of stars.

  A memory ran reverently across my awareness, of Dawkins' last moments. The star charts of Pyral, the tiny silvery strands of connection across the infinite dark.

  I wondered if there was a new pathway now, populated to its awareness by some amazing technology that I did not yet understand.

  “I’m glad things are going well Jill, at least it’s working out now.” The last few months aboard the column had gotten tense. Close quarters, low supplies and the frustration of being in limbo had stretched relations to the breaking point, but for the most part, they held.

  The 889 connected with the Excalibur as I had configured her to do, and began the automated landing procedure. Gliding into the bay, I was surprised to find a Mendian leap shuttle moored in one of the spaces.

  Darnack was here.

  Perhaps it shouldn’t have come as a surprise. He had been making frequent trips back and forth from the Nest, helping with the colony. It worried me, as that meant he had been spending more and more time away from the affairs of his government, in a time when he was sorely needed.

  Descending down the ramp with Jill, I finally decided to let the humans on board know that we were there. Connecting to the internal com systems, I messaged Harper.

  “Knock, knock, aren’t you going to come greet your guests?” Giggling to myself, I waited.

  The com remained silent, and my access was suddenly terminated. General quarters sounded as the shuttle bay doors slid shut. We were trapped.

  “Come on,” I called and Jill moved with a sense of quick purpose up the ramp with me, as I raised it behind me.

  “Excalibur Actual, this is Alpha-889, please respond,” I checked in with the bridge, desperate for a reply.

  “That will teach you to sneak up on me,” came Harper’s bemused reply.

  “You win,” I conceded.

  The artificial crisis resolved; I again moved down the ramp with Jill, and met Harper in his office aboard the Excalibur. Darnack was waiting there as well.

  “Hey Darnack, when did you get here?” I asked, before greeting Jon. It’s always good to address the ten foot long space snake in the room first.

  “It’s my ship, ya know,” Harper interjected.

  “Wait your turn, I was getting to you,” I chided in response, as Harper chuckled good naturedly.

  “This is mutiny,” Harper protested.

  “Can’t be helped Jon, she’s as insubordinate as the last model,” Jill chimed in.

  “Nobody asked you. You know it’s a new world, full of new opportunities if you're bored,” I replied.

  “Oh, come now Boss, you know you couldn’t replace me in any market.” Jill fuzzled my ears.

  “Greetings Key, honored one. I arrived a few hours ago, and was going to descend to the planet to see you this evening. I am surprised you were not paying attention,” Darnack reached down and hugged me.

  “Still enamored with human customs after all this?” It seemed odd, given he was the general that led the attack.

  “Have you not been paying attention? We grow by embracing other perspectives, Shifted One,” he reminded me like a parent.

  “I know. I know,” I replied impatiently.

  “I bring news with my visit. You will not be pleased,” he announced.

  “Well don’t wait now,” my curiosity raged, demanding satisfaction.

  “Erebus survived, you three are wanted for treason by the Earth government.” He handed over a data pad, which I immediately uploaded and began to process its contents. “The Corvaldians have begun to supply us with recordings of the human news media, for intelligence purposes.”

  “How the hell could he have survived all of that?” Harper interjected, rising from his chair, in physical lockstep with his anger.

  “I do not know, but he has been seen. He is leading the reconstruction efforts,” Darnack reported.

  “It’s not over,” I replied, distantly, numbly. “How could it not be over?”

  “Key…” Jill tried to stop my descent.

  She failed.

  “Darnack, what are the latest casualty projections from Earth?” I asked.

  “Don’t tell her. Boss that’s not going to help,” Jill begged.

  “Dammit, I need to know,” I pleaded, emphatically.

  “Current estimates are twenty-four million, Shifted One.” Darnack sounded as if he was going to order the pancakes.

  I winced. “And we fucking missed.”

  Harper fell back into his chair, a look of distant shock on his face.

  “We still have New Liberty,” Jill added, valiantly going down with the good ship Optimism.

  “Yeah, it’s built on bones,” I replied, firing torpedoes.

  They scored a direct hit, her tail twitched, she stomped. “Fine Boss,” she replied before storming out.

  Darnack regarded the tension as a man adrift, confused by the intense drama raging around him.

  Within my awareness, my processing of the files Darnack had given me got to a “Breaking News” event about Snow Dawkins. I turned my attention to it, and then quickly stopped.

  Erebus had released my predecessor’s “confession”.

  Fuck.

  It was a gut punch, but upon reflectio
n, it was expected.

  “The reason for my coming; perhaps that will change the mood, as the human saying goes,” Darnack spoke up, trying to steer us back to a positive course, valiantly taking up where Jill had left off.

  We both turned our attention towards him, curious.

  “We are ending the war, officially. It is being called the Treaty of Night and will be signed in the Corvaldian system,” he reported.

  “At least that means, for now, there won't be any more death,” I admitted, which was a step in the right direction.

  “What are the terms, though?” Harper asked.

  “Very few. Current human territorial boundaries will be respected, based off their network of fifteen gates. The territory is not strategically significant, and space is very large. However, the humans will be limited to that territory. Any further expansion will have to be brought before the council,” Darnack laid it out.

  “It’s the strangest armistice I’ve ever heard of,” I replied. For the last five weeks, I had existed in a veritable communications blackout, which left a huge hole in my data.

  “The message was sent, the lines have been drawn and there has been enough death. It needs to end so that we can all move on.” The wisdom of the ancient Mendian showed through.

  He had indeed seen many stars, enough that the warrior had grown tired of the business of war.

  “Can I be there? At the signing?” I asked, not knowing my exact position.

  “We are expecting you to be there; we have only made one proposal, that you will still speak for us to the humans, by the decision of the Mendian Council. The Galactic Council arbiter, cannot represent us forever, Shifted One.”

  I was going to have to talk to Jill and set up an office. Even with no official contact, there would still be messages sent, and information exchanged. A small detail jumped up and refused to be ignored.

  “I’m a wanted fugitive Darnack; that probably will not work out best for the humans,” I replied.

  “You are not our ambassador. There is no official diplomatic contact. You are...” He paused, and lapsed into thought. “To use the human phrase, keeping up with the correspondence. If they want someone different, they can submit a request through the galactic council to start the process of beginning formal negotiations, and we will respond... someday.” He answered, for all of his perceived innocence; Darnack was an experienced politician. He had been the leader of his people for almost two millennia, after all.

  “Very well.” I accepted my job of doing most likely nothing at all. At least it gave me the access I wanted.

  “Harper, your presence is also requested, as the interim governor of New Liberty. We wish for you to participate in the council as an observer colony. This event will be the genesis of that process,” Darnack said.

  “I have to take any treaties to the Colonial Assembly, but my government is certainly open to attending. While we’re there, I’d like to arrange a meeting with the Choir about establishing trade between our systems anyway,” he brightened up, eager to get back out to space again.

  Some people have no peace, unless they are wandering, chased by ghosts and dreams.

  “There’s plenty of room aboard the 889,” I offered.

  “When is the meeting Darnack?” I asked, securing the final details.

  “Six weeks, the 23rd by your calendar,” Darnack reported, quickly referencing a data pad.

  I did the math and concluded we were going to have to leave tomorrow to get there in time. Of course, the Mendians could provide us with a ride, but where was the fun in that?

  “Jon, can I pull provisions and supplies from the Excalibur's inventory?” I asked. It would make it easier than having to return to the colony and having to pull stores from there.

  He grumbled, good naturedly. “Why not? Raid the fridge. Don’t forget the cheese puffs,” he ordered, confessing his addiction.

  “I know they keep a fifty-five gallon drum of them somewhere aboard,” I answered, as he tried not to break out laughing.

  “Stay out of my stash,” he replied.

  Chapter 39

  //For the honor of Detraxia// Awareness Rises// Appending Chronicles of Conquest//

  The Earth hung grey and sickly against the backdrop of space. Thick clouds wrapped around the surface of the planet, denying it of sun. The global cataclysm caused by the Mendian attack was being felt planet-wide, as the survivors mourned the dead.

  The planet grew large in the window. My empire, broken and shattered, lay in ashes. Once again, I was starting with nothing.

  I thought back to all those years ago. My youth was a golden era of exploration, conquest and ultimately, exile.

  Here I was again, before a field of ashes, with nothing to do but build.

  “Chancellor Apep?” It was Paladin Wield, my chief aide.

  “Yes, what is it?”

  “On final approach to the shipyard, five minutes out, Sir,” he reported robotically.

  “Understood.” My mind was elsewhere.

  The Paladins. Noble high-minded fools. Lifetimes ago, I had founded their organization, woven out of the fiction that humanity was a noble species, called to something higher.

  I chuckled. Yes... all humanity needed was a group of right-thinking sheep dogs, to guide them to their destiny, like lambs to the slaughter.

  In the end, as the throats of the flock were cut, the truth shone through in red tinged light that they did not serve the flock, but the shepherd; however, by that time, they were too blinded by duty to see it from any other angle but my own.

  Humans, like dogs were useful that way, easily domesticated, with the right pressures and fancy words.

  It was only natural, after all. The one virtue I could appreciate in humans was how they could normally recognize their superiors , even if it took a little training to get there. It was the key to their fear; they always felt inferior, and in my case, they truly were.

  That one fact made their submission natural, automatic. Paladin Wield was a fine example of this, expertly trained, instructed and thoroughly blind to everything except what I wished him to see.

  There were thick streams of traffic coming off the planet that became visible as they grew larger, convoys of ships moving back and forth along the travel routes, mainly towards the Moon. Central Command and Lunar One, were the center of relief efforts, and the current home of the Interim UEA Government.

  My private yacht glided gently to a stop within the orbital construction yard that was in orbit above the Earth. The newest Gen V was being commissioned, The Hammer, and with it, the first fleet would be reforged.

  The door opened and I descended down the ramp wearing a plastic smile, waving to the cameras, putting on a show, as reporters congratulated me, and asked me questions. It was ironic, the smiles on their faces, the congratulations and well wishes of my victory. Many of them would be dead by the end of the week, or in prison.

  There was very little need of a true free press in the coming administration.

  “Chancellor Apep, Alice Bolter, Space news,” se said, I recognized her.

  “Yes Alice, hello, how lovely to see you again.” I clasped her hand and smiled endearingly.

  “Thank you, Chancellor; the interim UEA Parliament and supreme court has elected to continue with the emergency measures currently in place indefinitely following the crisis on Earth, formalizing your martial control over the state. How do you react to those that say this is a power grab?”

  “What power grab? You obviously haven’t seen the markets this morning.” There was a murmur of general laughter and I waited for it to die down before continuing.

  “Speaking seriously, the world is in crisis after fending off a savage attack at great cost. Erebus Industries Incorporated has been at the forefront of the relief effort. We have opened our warehouses to the Emergency Response Agency and are providing equipment and personnel to the government either free, or at a cost. Furthermore, I never asked for the honor; in fact, if you w
ill recall, I first sought to step down, after seeing the horrendous aftermath and loss of life from these unprovoked attacks that occurred during my administration.” The room erupted in whispers.

  “Does that mean you considered yourself responsible for the Mendian Attack?” she challenged, clearly needing a lesson in obedience.

  “Not at all, but it seemed insensitive to demand that my power continue, in the midst of such a catastrophic event. I felt the best thing for Earth to heal in that time, was to have the choice of whatever leader they felt they needed, to guide them through this dark time. I was humbled and deeply moved when the parliament chose me.” I had played this game many times before.

  “Still, with the UEA Charter currently suspended and the planet under Martial Law, that effectively leaves you a global dictator. Even this event is being called a coronation,” she pushed, like a dog on a chain, desperate for an imagined scrap of meat.

  “My title is not changing from chancellor at this time. The indefinite nature of my appointment by parliament is a reflection of the faith of the interim government, and the people of Earth who elected that parliament, in me. I’m not some monster lurking in the dark looking to hurt anyone. There’s been enough pain, Alice, and I am hurting with you. The only thing I want right now, is what, I hope, everyone on Earth wants, to rebuild, and I am humbled that I have been chosen, and am determined to do right by your faith.” The conversation was over, the press was eating it up, but I had not come to banter with a reporter.

  “Please, I’d love to sit and talk with all of you, but Mr. Wield informs me I am already tragically behind schedule. We are all servants of the clock,” I bowed slightly, and then proceeded through the press throng.

  Bored.

  Interminably, frustratingly, nauseatingly, bored.

  Four hours dragged by, as we went through the coronation ceremonies. My face was sore from smiling, and I desperately wished a shower to wash the smell of the place off of me.

  Wield tapped me twice on my left shoulder. I walked out from the curtain waving, to a crowd of cheering humans. It was time for my Coronation speech and then I could finally attend to business that mattered.