The Rise of OLMAC

by Kevin Gordon

all those ships lie the firepower of Malhrer itself. It will be as if a sun unleashed all its energy upon you, so terrible would our response be. We knew the risks of pressing an attack on your moon. You should know the risks of pressing an attack on us now.^

  Suld looked on the great unknown—the moon of Malhrer itself. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew there was no reliable intelligence on the defensive capabilities of the moon.

  I’ve lost my city, I’ll not lose the Envoys when they’ve only just returned.

  ^One roa, TELREC,^ he cast, with all the bitterness and hatred he could muster.

  ^One roa, Mechle. Perhaps we will meet face to face, before the end. I would like to meet the man who opposed us successfully. Enjoy your victory. There will not be another.^

  Suld ordered his ships to stand down, and retreated to his shuttle, his broken mind feeding on thoughts of vengeance and death.

  The ships moved as great ancient sea-creatures, arcing their bulbous masses through the cold blackness of the void. Debris trailed from many, as pockets of fire glowed briefly on their hulls. Fighters and meta danced around their leviathan cousins, breaking, then forming into swarms of metal and light. Down below, the remains of Gan-Elldon looked as a grey-blue blemish on the landscape of the moon, a few lucky spires still standing on its outskirts, glistening memorials to the once mighty metropolis. A few skirmishes still flared in its orbit, as many OLMAC soldiers refused to acknowledge the uneasy stalemate, and their TELREC counterparts hungered to fight to the end. Suld felt the tension in all those around him, the fight denied by his prudence. As he waited in his shuttle for his pilot to arrive, General Hildnic came and sat next to him.

  ^Gan-Elldon was not your fault. It couldn’t be helped.^

  Hildnic was a portrait of fatigue, the lines creasing deep in his aged face. Yet, within his General’s countenance, behind eyes that commanded without a word cast, and a proud patrician nose that led to a mouth usually drawn open to reveal gritted teeth, lay a core of compassion that drew him to Suld’s side, to salve wounds that could not be seen.

  ^What if it was? It was my city, OLMAC property,^ he cast petulantly. Suld sunk back in his chair. ^Mine to do with as I please.^

  ^I know you don’t mean that. I have conferred with the other Generals, and we think it unwise for us to appear with you at the welcome ceremony for the Envoys.^

  Suld looked slyly at him. ^You have been conferring?^

  ^We feel it would put too much of a military face on OLMAC,^ he cast slowly, watching suspicion bloom in Suld’s eyes. ^It will take some time for the people of Novan to get adjusted to the idea that OLMAC has warships and fighter squadrons strong enough to repulse TELREC forces.^

  ^So . . . you have decided this with the other Generals?^

  ^I . . . we thought it best, Suld.^ Hildnic cast earnestly. ^You have a great deal of ammunition against the TELREC—the return of the Envoys, when the TELREC cast they would never succeed. You have virt-lives of them attacking us! An unprovoked strike.^

  ^And I wouldn’t want the valiant men and women who defended my ancestral home there at my side?^

  Hildnic thought for a moment. ^If that is how you would like to present it—^

  ^I know you think you could have done better than me—I see it in your eyes, nest it in your private counseling with the Generals! You thought my decision about Ilasko was in error, and you think the same about the outcome of this battle as well! In battle I may not have all the answers, but in propaganda, I do!^

  Hildnic remained calm, knowing Suld was at the end of his patience and emotional strength. ^We were all responsible for the failure at Gan-Elldon.^

  ^So you admit I failed!^ Suld shook his head back and forth, rancor building in his soul. ^I know I don’t measure up favorably against my ancestor Mechles, but I am Mechle now! You may have respected my father greatly—it’s all I heard in my youth—but I am Mechle now, never forget it!^

  ^I did respect your father,^ cast Hildnic, as he stood, tall and proud, yet visibly hurt and shaken, ^just as I respect you. Reflections can be skewed in the aftermath of a perceived defeat; judgment usually harshest on oneself. Let time heal your wounds, so we may fight united against our terrible foe, who allows no time for regret or doubt.^

  Hildnic paused, then knelt on one knee. Suld drew back, shocked and suddenly frightened.

  ^What are you doing?^

  ^There is one more thing,^ cast Hildnic somberly. ^I have never knelt before another—I would rather die than show such weakness. I do this to express to you the depths of my sorrow.^

  ^What do you mean?^

  ^The clones of your wife, Oaimei . . . they were not removed from Gan-Elldon.^

  ^What?!^ He bolted up, fury on his face.

  ^General Ank-Tehht conferred with me, after cescting with you. I ordered him to let the clones alone.^

  Suld grabbed Hildnic by his shirt, drawing him close, losing all control.

  ^You killed my wife! You killed her, I can’t believe one of my own people would—^

  ^Suld!^ he cried, holding him still with his massive hands. ^The clones were wrong. Your wife specifically requested she never be cloned, that you never bring her back! You cannot afford such a weakness.^

  ^And who are you to decide this for me?^

  ^I am not only your General, servant of both OLMAC and its Mechle, I am your friend, one that must make the difficult decisions, if you cannot or will not.^ He stood, Suld’s hands slipping from his shirt. ^Once again, I express my profound regret and sadness in this time of loss.^

  ^This reeks of insubordination, Hildnic,^ he cast darkly.

  ^I know this will put a strain on our friendship. You must know, I only did this because I care so much for you. You must be focused on one thing, and one thing only—the preservation of your company. If the TELREC ever learned of the clones, of that crutch, they would surely find some way to take advantage of it.^

  ^Leave me.^

  Suld watched him leave, as his pilot boarded and initialized the engines.

  Oh Oaimei! he screamed in his mind, as the shuttle disembarked. I can’t even cry to you, for this has merely been the fulfillment of your wishes. But how I miss you, how I need you. I sit here, alone in this chair, wishing I had your hand in mine, wishing your head rest still on my shoulders. The TELREC have killed you twice, and I shall only triple my efforts to avenge you.

  Hildnic cannot be trusted. They look to him for guidance, for direction. I have this title, and yet it brings me no respect. He slumped back in his chair, a cloud of misery blanketing his mind. They have seen me falter. My father was so strong, so sure. All those who serve me were trained by him, pledged their loyalty to him. One roa, I fear my title will not insulate me against rebellion. I must siphon power and responsibility away from those who might covet my position, and draw it all unto myself.

  The shuttle moved away from the Onzic, appearing terribly isolated in the blackness of the void.

  18

  Happiness as a child typically comes from selfish goals and gains. Happiness as an adult, a mature one, comes best from the knowledge that someone loved is happy and content, from the sacrifice to help that loved one achieve their goals and gains. It would be unnatural to force an adult happiness on a child, as the child would not have context from which to understand the selfish contentment. Similarly, to prolong the childlike happiness is to prevent the adult from seeing beyond themselves, from building a community, from defending a home from barbarian invaders. It would invite chaos and anarchy, gluttony and decadence, and the eventual disillusion of a society

  It was a cool roa on Rell, but the sun made it seem warmer than it was. The sun sat with uncommon majesty in the sky, its rays racing through leaf and branch, seeking out the shadow and wiping it away. A faint image of the galaxy hung low beneath the solar king, its brilliant center seeming to throb in the distance with the birth and death of a trillion stars.

  It took a while for Graid to act the part of a normal man. H
is first few attempts were unconvincing, like hefting a sac ten times his weight with a pretend groan. Then, he would strain when the load was too light, inviting sneers and snickers from those around him. Only in the past roa did he get the balance right—he walked now with a large load of seeds on his back, hefting it up every few mroas, keeping his head down, the sweat darkening his clothes. He was beginning to enjoy the solitude the village offered him—he would spend his nights meditating, reaching out gently to the universe around him. It was in those moments he would venture to places few in the universe would ever see close up. One night, he hovered a few light-cas away from a giant nebula, its wispy vapors holding almost every color imaginable. He would watch as galaxies collided, the slow consumption of one by another, the stars twinkling out as dark matter consumed them. He had seen stars go nova, incinerating planets around them in a flash, leaving a tiny pearl of light surrounded by a haze of gaseous debris. Or he would lie outside the great star factories where tens of thousands of stars flamed into life, waiting to be captured by the attraction of others. The immensity of the universe astounded him, the limitless creation within. He was no longer frustrated by his inability to pierce the boundaries of time, or the dimensional divide. His lust to consume subsided, and he was beginning to learn to appreciate what he had. The galaxies were not merely a number—ten million of this kind, five million of another. He saw