Empire 1: Humiliation

by Michael J. Findley

alien craft followed us through deep thrust. They were obviously on a suicide mission. Any attempt to save any of their lives would have cost the lives of the would-be rescuers. They did not give us time to calculate our position. We escaped with only seconds to spare from a deep space ambush," said Prince Michael.

  "Is that your total defense for failing to check your position upon leaving deep thrust?" replied Commander Markham.

  "Why do I need to defend myself? If I had taken any other action, there would have been numerous casualties," Prince Michael said calmly.

  Williams reached under the table and brought out six vials of clear liquid, similar to the one Randolph had emptied on Discovery. He smiled warmly and asked, "Would everyone like a drink?" He set a vial in front of each person without waiting for a reply.

  Commander Markham smiled. He sipped his vial, looking at Randolph as if addressing his next comments to him. "I seem to remember the Discovery using code 9 before. Am I correct, Prince Michael?"

  Prince Michael had nearly drained his vial, but he stopped and slowly put it down. "Yes," he replied.

  "And since the Discovery is the latest technology, it certainly has an automated code panel?" Commander Markham continued. Prince Michael only looked at him without replying.

  "A military vessel such as the Discovery has priority for a code 9. If you had followed standard automated procedures you would have had a complete positional fix before the alien craft emerged from deep thrust. Perhaps your battle was unavoidable. That is for others to decide. But having it in the main traffic lane to Earth was sheer negligence."

  Prince Michael drained his vial, looked at Commander Markham and said, "Since you chose to make this a formal meeting, I have to officially reply. You are correct. I should have code-nined our position. But even if I had it would not have made any difference. Not only was the battle itself unavoidable, but so was the battlefield."

  Commander Markham rose and said, "Thank you for your time. You replied as expected. This report, along with some of my personal opinions will be sent to the council immediately." With great sorrow, he watched Prince Michael and Randolph rise and leave.

 

  Two

 

  Prince Michael and Randolph walked through the crowed tunnels to an empty tube carrier. When the Prince found one, he jumped in, nearly carrying Randolph with him. The door closed and he pushed the buttons for the Central Sanctuary. After they were underway he relaxed. The ride would take at least half an hour.

  "I've got to preach tomorrow. My father will be here by the end of the week, so we must work quickly. Commander Markham carries a lot more weight with the Council than I do. Things are just moving faster than I anticipated. But they are working out as I expected."

  "What do you mean?" asked Randolph.

  "The only way to keep the Council from opiating the Space Empire again is to go over their heads. Go directly to the people. If this attack proved nothing else, it proved that the worst possible course of action is inactivity. To do nothing eventually means to be nothing. But the Empire cannot wait, because we may not have any time past tomorrow."

  Randolph looked at Michael. He had preached in the Central Sanctuary before. No one, with the exception of his father, could keep him out of any pulpit in the entire Empire.

  "Don't you understand, Randy? The confrontation we've expected will be a little earlier than planned." A small knot formed in Randolph's stomach. "We have to give it guidance and direction. The sermon text will be 'The Lord mighty in battle.' It will give a favorable account of our battle and encourage people that we may soon have some relief from the oppression of Earth. Things are coming to a head." Michael smiled enthusiastically as he spoke.

  Randolph did not share his enthusiasm. "Mike, what do you intend to say? Do you plan to really say anything?"

  Michael laughed, "Those who know what to listen for will be well-instructed. The rest will hear a rousing message."

  In a society where the Sunday sermon was required by law, the best orator was the most popular. There were few to equal Prince Michael for captivating an audience. Services from the Central Sanctuary were broadcast throughout the Empire with an audience in the millions, if not tens of millions.

  The tube carrier stopped and they walked together into the Central Sanctuary.

  Michael's sermon flowed. His showmanship captivated his audience with a spell unbroken until the final amen of the final prayer. The lights dimmed, the microphones quieted, and the cameras died. Prince Michael left the platform to mingle with his throngs.

  Alexander pushed through, but waited until most of the common people had left. "Michael, I've waited a long time for that message. I was beginning to wonder if you had it in you." His face beamed.

  Equally excited were Eric, Doug, and Philip. Randolph lingered behind, agitated and nervous. Michael could not have been more pleased with himself.

  "Now," Michael asked, "What shape is my ship in?"

  Eric and Phillip tried to explain at the same time, stopped, laughed, and Phillip went on. "The only personally-owned battle cruiser in the entire Space Empire will be ready to leave by tomorrow afternoon. What about her owner?"

  They laughed heartily. All except Randolph.

  The last of the crowd dispersed and they moved toward the exit of the Central Sanctuary.

  "Excuse me, your Highness."

  The Prince was used to strangers stopping him, especially after a sermon. "Yes?" he answered, the clear ring of laughter still in his voice.

  "You don't remember me?"

  A quizzical look came over the Prince.

  "A pity. I worked for your father when you were a child. That was, until I retired ten years ago."

  "Why of course! Lord Bennett!"

  Lord Bennett nodded gravely. "May I have a word with just you and Randolph?"

  They moved several paces away from the group and around an exit before Lord Bennett spoke. "Your father contacted me a few moments ago. You and your friend Randolph are to come with me. You can pick up a few personal things. We leave for the Palace in an hour." He handed Michael a small cylinder. "That is my authorization. You may examine it if you like."

  "No need," replied Michael. "Where do we meet you?"

  "I am to stay with you until departure. I am too old for space travel myself. Oh, by the way." He turned, re-entered the Central Sanctuary and approached the crew. "The Discovery is impounded indefinitely. The king's personal orders." The three men walked off without another word between them.

 

  The bulk of his spacecraft obliterated Sol. The dome around and on every side of him was so clear that there was no hint that anything protected him from empty space. Not even the whisper of a life support system intruded on his solitude. The stars did not twinkle, and nothing was close enough to give the faintest hint of movement.

  Isaiah 26:3

  Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee: because he trusteth in thee.

  He read the one verse over and over again. He had called for his son. No one had made him, or even talked to him about it.

  He missed his wife. She had been absent from the body and present with the Lord for more than two years.

  What would he say to Michael when he got there?

  The door to the Council room dissolved and a dozen hushed conversations ended. The Council stood as the king slowly walked to the center of the room and sat on his massive throne. The twenty-four Councilmen sat silently, in chairs which seemed to be designed for men twice their size, and waited.

  The door soon dissolved again. Prince Michael, followed by Randolph, entered their first full Council meeting. The prince stood three meters from his father and let him speak.

  "Michael, my son, the election of a new king is not automatic. There are already two cases on record where a son did not follow his father to the throne. Though those cases were over one hundred years ago, there is precedent. Do you understand your present position?"

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nbsp; "Not entirely."

  "Perhaps you understand it somewhat less than you think. I have not yet heard for myself your message this morning ..."

  "You haven't heard it?" Michael interrupted with a loud, confused whisper.

  "You may be a fleet commander but a Prince your age should be more. I should have listened more to your mother. Maybe you would be more now." The king paused briefly. "Are you familiar with intelligence enhancing?"

  "The superman concept?" The prince replied.

  The king looked at his son for a long time. When he resumed, he spoke in a low, even tone. "I realize that there are people in our society who pervert everything because their thinking is perverted. I did not know you were one of them. Listen instead of just hearing.

  "Intelligence enhancing is an attempt to make children with organic brain damage normal. It is an ancient concept, and very controversial. Last year the graduate school of neurosurgery requested permission to try a new technique. It required six children. After a lengthy, often heated debate, of which you never bothered to make yourself aware, permission was granted. The six children were all volunteers whose families wanted to try. Six severely retarded children, aged five to seven, who wanted a chance to be normal in a highly technological society. I would like to say that the Space Empire has another glorious triumph. You seem to be quite familiar with that type of language, the language of the news bulletin. The truth, however, is that we buried all six children early this morning in a special memorial near the original moon colony."

  "Why were you there?"

  "Each of those children could have lived. Through conventional techniques they could have functioned, perhaps even lived normal lives, in the Space Empire.

  "I have left you to yourself for too many years. It is my sin that allowed you to become what you are. I must begin to make atonement. Except for Randolph, the Council has not approved of any of your choices for your crew. You do not need to associate with those men again."

  "I am aware of the Council's disapproval."

  "You will not see them again."

  "What will the Discovery do for a crew?"

  "You will need no crew where you are going. Your 'secret' fleet will be broken up before the end of the month. For the next six weeks you will live on Earth ..."

  "No!"

  "You do not seem to understand. I am not asking, I am telling. It is late and if I could trust you, we would wait until morning. You and Randolph will pick up several changes of clothes on your way out. I have arranged for the Palace to be close enough to Earth that your trip will only last ten hours. Do you have anything to say?"

  "Is that all?"

  "Yes, Michael."

  Michael turned and walked out. Randolph followed.

  He sat in solitude and looked at the cold, untwinkling stars.

  "Oh, my son. Would to God I could die for thee."

 

  The green meadow made a beautiful landing site. Perhaps ...

  The noise of rocket exhaust high overhead jarred Randolph back to the present. "Mike, I thought I could get clothes here, so I brought a few ... extras."

  Mike looked into Randolph's bag and laughed. "Imperial gold will do nothing but get us in trouble around here. For now, we play the game by their rules. It's best that we leave your gold, and the rest of that stuff, buried somewhere near the return beacon. If we really need any of this, we know where it is. We'll be living in close quarters and there's no need to raise questions."

  They buried the return beacon on a small rise at the east end of the meadow and Randolph hid the contents of his bag in another hole nearby. The loose dirt made easy work, and they were off in less than an hour. They had been told that a dirt road about one kilometer to the north should take them to the meeting ground, which lay about nine kilometers to the west. Most people would come from the opposite direction.

  "Randy, just what is a 'camp meeting?''' Michael asked as they started walking north.

  "I don't really know. They resist the Church, so the Church usually sends spies. Governments think they're harmless enough, not that they could do anything if they wanted to."

  They crested a knoll while listening to the muffled roar of a small waterfall. Open water was something they had only read about.

  "What's that?" asked Michael.

  The dense underbrush obscured their view until they were less than twenty meters away. The water fell about two meters and filled a pool ten meters across and teeming with fish. The dense flora made the pool a very private hideaway with sunlight breaking through in only a few places.

  "In everything give thanks. It seems so wasteful, yet so peaceful," said Randolph. They sat by the edge and looked. The even roar of the waterfall almost put Randolph to sleep.

  "Well Randy, we're supposed to be at the campgrounds before dusk." They left the strangely enchanting, wasteful water. It took them nearly an hour to walk through the underbrush to the road. When they arrived they found it barely a meter wide, with obvious signs of neglect. The gravel left little trace of the two men's entrance.

  Michael thought out loud. "We should be there before noon, even if we have to walk the entire way. Since the first meeting's tonight, we should meet someone heading our way. I wonder what time standard they use here?" All timepieces of the Space Empire used the same time standard, regardless of location.

  The road took a sharp turn and the heavily forested countryside sloped away from them. The road, straight and vacant, disappeared in the distance.

  Michael smiled. "So we walk the whole way." He increased his strides.

  "Mike, why were we sent here?"

  "Your guess, Randy, is as good as mine. Father has an old friend, Jonathan Edwards, who helps run the place. He knows who we are and is expecting us. Maybe Jonathan has some plan in mind. I hope not. This could be a miserable six weeks."

  "Howdy strangers! Is you folk headed fer th' camp meet'n'?"

  Michael and Randolph whirled, red-faced, to look at the speaker. A small electric cart had taken both men by surprise. The gnarled little man driving the overloaded cart smiled pleasantly.

  "Wisht I c'd gi' y'all a lif', but thar ain't no room nohow. M'name's Jess Wil'ms. This m'wife Kate. These-yere fo' young'uns's ourn. Kin give ya a whizzl'wetter. Y'all look plumb drahd out."

  The heavy load of baggage made the cart look worse than it really was. Besides being somewhat dusty, the cart was in good shape. It had a new paint job. The children, though also dusty, were well-groomed and well-behaved.

  "No, thank you," Michael smiled.

  "Suitcherse'f. Y' got two ahrs a'walkin' t'th' camp. T'aint likely nob'dy else'll be 'long." Jess smiled as he drove off. As it dipped downhill it accelerated to a grand speed of thirty kilometers an hour.

  "Since you answered, Mike, what was the kind gentleman offering us?"

  "A drink, I think. I'm sure you're as thirsty as I am, but we can't risk getting sick."

  For the next hour and a half they saw no one.

  "Mike, what are we getting ourselves into?"

  "All I'm thinking about is what to do when we get back. The Council does not seem to realize that they're risking an all-out civil war. They know that we don't want that. We need a united Empire to face the threat of a united Earth."

  "Maybe getting us here was all they had in mind."

  "I hope that you're right. But what if I'm overlooking some angle? I must know what is really important and blot out the rest. There isn't enough time to waste it on trivial details."

  The morning chill was gone and the heat began to rise from the road. The swarms of insects reminded them unpleasantly of the collective farms. Uncaged birds flocked by the thousands. Open water was everywhere. The road bridged one large stream and several small ones before they encountered the first sign for the camp meeting.

  It was an attractive hand-lettered sign which simply read, "CAMP GROUNDS 1 KILOMETER ON RIGHT." After the sign, the road followed a small stream uphill, turning sharply to the left.
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  The quiet was shattered by children's laughter and splashing water. They turned the corner to see perhaps a dozen children jumping from an oak tree into a large pool. The children took no notice of the two men as they approached. Not until they passed did the smallest girl call out, "Are you going to the Camp Meeting?"

  "Of course, stupid! Why else would anyone in their right mind be walking on that road?" The girl speaking looked too old to sound so young.

  By this time the entire group stopped to look at the two travelers. The little girl who first called out ran over to the men.

  "Hey! Where are you guys from?"

  "Melinda!" The older girl cried again. "Get back here! You know I'm s'posta look after you."

  Ignoring her, Melinda stepped in front of Randolph with hands on hips. "I've never seen you here before and I've been here every year. Well, at least six of 'em, seven if you count one inside Mommy..."

  "MELINDA!" The older girl flushed crimson, ran over and grabbed her mouth.

  "Well," Michael smiled, squatting down to face Melinda at eye level. "Is this the way you always greet strangers?"

  "I'm sorry, she really talks too much. Ouch!" The older girl grabbed the hand Melinda had bitten.

  "Toldja they wasn't from 'round here," said Melinda. "Lissen how they talk."

  Michael still smiled. "Does it make any difference to you that we're strangers who've come a long way to be here?"

  "Of course not. Now leave them alone, Melinda."

  The other children lost interest and went back to jumping in the water. Strangers were not so unusual at the camp meeting. But Melinda and Michael did not move.

  "Would you like to help two strangers out? We're supposed to meet with Jonathan Edwards."

  "Do you know him?" Melinda's astonished eyes fixed on Michael's.

  "We don't really know him. That's the problem. My father arranged for us to stay here six weeks, but neither of us has met Jonathan Edwards. What does he look like?"

  The older girl said nothing, nursing her wounded hand. Melinda thought for a moment.

  "You're stayin' here the whole six weeks?" Michael nodded. "You mus' be bad men. Jonathan Edwards has helped lotsa bad men. Alice, let's go show them."

  Randolph laughed and shook his head. "If we're bad men, shouldn't you stay away from us?"

  "Not if you're goin' t' Jonathan Edwards. Can we go, Alice?" Without waiting for Alice to respond, Melinda took off up the road.

  Michael and Randolph smiled at her but turned to Alice for an answer.

  "Well, it isn't very far. I guess it's all right." She ran to catch up with Melinda.

 

  Hundreds of people, mostly in family groups, clustered around an open meeting shed that could seat thousands. The two girls deftly threaded their way to the platform. The main "auditorium" was a large roofed area open on three sides with one plank wall behind the platform.

  "Alice!" came a woman's voice from their left. "What are you two doing in here soaking wet?"

  "I just wanted to show these men to Preacher Edwards."

  "Well, you've done so. Now go see your mother." The two girls scurried off.

  A large man with a full head of silver hair and thick, bushy eyebrows had spoken the last words. He stepped