The Father Unbound

by Frank Kennedy

  Elizer nodded, but Ephraim saw a fragment of doubt.

  “So you’re saying, sir …”

  “No one will know of this. When we are finished here, I wish you to destroy this report and all evidence of communications between Dr. Sayn and this office. Then, I wish you to arrange a sabbatical for Dr. Sayn and his associates. Tell him the trip will be for their protection during the coming controversy. If he objects, tell him I cannot guarantee their safety, here or on a Carrier. Book passage on an IC transport. Choose an exotic but isolated destination, perhaps the Columbian jungles on Xavier’s Garden. Make sure the transport is prepped by our grounders.”

  “I see,” Elizer said with nervous confidence. “And where will it happen?”

  “Arrange for the accident to occur as far from any Nexus point as possible. The transport will drift off the shipping beacons and disappear into the uncharted wastes of the Fulcrum. These tragedies do occur from time to time.”

  “Yes, and with no discovery of evidence. Speaking of which, I’ll make sure his residence here and on the AnnaMaria are thoroughly swept.”

  “I’m sure you will.”

  Elizer swallowed hard. “I know you have the best interests of all Chancellors in mind. But will there not be other exogeologists to reach these same findings? Part of their job is to study the planet, after all.”

  “I very much doubt it. Sayn’s discovery was not made until the final days of his mapping. Leave the matter to me. When you have closed the Sayn file, please advise me, Elizer. I will then submit an authorization on behalf of the Carriers’ admin councils clearing the Sanctum to increase brontinium production by ten percent.”

  Elizer’s eyes bulged, and he took a step back. “But sir, that will expedite the …”

  “Yes, Elizer. Based on Sayn’s equations, the increased production should take another twenty years off Hiebimini. However, when the end comes, our stockpiles will be sufficient for at least another generation.”

  “I see. And the indigos? Eighty million Hiebim.”

  Ephraim shrugged. “The problem of another regent. You and I will have long since moved on, and no one will bear us the slightest level of responsibility.” He sighed. “Elizer, I will be thirty-three years old next week. If I am fortunate, I have far more life left in me than this planet. Now that I can see the path, I have no interest in allowing my fate to be tied to Hiebimini. My victory is elsewhere, and I intend to enjoy it. Yes?”

  Elizer smiled broadly and smothered his lips upon those of his liege. Ephraim did not resist. That night would be a celebration, indeed.

  “I’ll take care of this at once,” Elizer whispered. He turned away but stopped at the top of the well. He hesitated, swung around and faced the regent once more. His smile of satisfaction had vanished. “Be careful, sir. If even one piece of what we’re doing here is leaked …”

  “All your career ambitions would be in ruins,” Ephraim said. Elizer went pale until Ephraim stretched an ironic grin. “Tragic. On the bright side, we would return to Earth sooner, and I might have to spend more time with my wife. Hmmph. I am quite certain Genevieve would be positively thrilled by the prospect. She can only delay motherhood for so long.”

  “I only meant that …”

  “No, Elizer. I understand, and I will be cautious. There are only a few more threads to pull together, and then Earth will be calling to us anyway. What do you think of that?”

  Elizer looked down for an instant, a flicker of emotion that Ephraim read well.

  “Not a day goes by, sir. Not a day.”

  “Hold firm to that hope while you make five Chancellors vanish from existence.”

  When Elizer departed, Ephraim barely contained his exhilaration. Everything was visible now – the ambiguous words that originally brought him to this remote colony; how all the threads would ultimately fit together; even a target window for his triumphant return to Earth and the conception of his son. He remembered those confusing first months after he resigned his commission to the UG without a focused plan, and how his father was no longer able to guide him along the path. He remembered how he would have been lost were it not for the help of his ancestors – one in particular.

  “Frederic,” he said between clinched teeth. “This is your victory, too.”

  Ephraim removed the blue glasses from his vest and slipped them on. He left his office, rushed through a small courtyard and into the consulate’s habitation annex. He wanted a dram of crimson liquor, time alone to process this transformational day, and the opportunity to see through the blue glasses and celebrate with Frederic Ericsson.

  As he entered his personal chambers, Ephraim removed his cape and hung it. He gathered his pipe from his vest and prepared to prime it. The chamber’s lighting was dim. That’s when he heard the ruffling of bed sheets. He did not swirl about in panic. Rather, Ephraim remained steady, his nerves cold and unfazed.

  “Should have known,” he whispered as he set the pipe down on a dressing table. “Careful,” he reminded himself. “She bites.”

  Ephraim found her stretched out upon his bed undressed, her legs spread wide, an open invitation. Shadows seemed to drift across her long, alabaster figure as she displayed her agility.

  “Why must I always wait?” She asked. “I don’t think Elizer cares much for me.”

  “Most likely not. He did not even bother to announce you this time.”

  “I see the look in his eyes,” she said. “He would kill me if the chance presented itself.”

  “Yes, I rather suspect he would. Jealousy. He loves me.”

  She laughed. “As much as your wife does?”

  Ephraim frowned. “Genevieve is not for discussion, as I have told you often.”

  “Of course,” she said while demonstrating a more provocative pose. “Dogs like us have no business prying into the personal lives of Chancellors. Correct?”

  “Indeed,” he said as he dropped his pants and stood nude before her. “After all, we are better than you.”

  She leaped from the bed and wrapped her arms around him. He ran his hands across her immaculate, bald head.

  “Miriam,” he asked, “what is the price today?”

  Polemicus Miriam said nothing as she buried her lips upon his and then her tongue inside his mouth. They held the pose for a moment, before finally she pulled him onto the bed with her.

  They played the game just as they had for the past four years, consuming themselves within each other and dispensing with tactful, civilized behavior. Only when their drive was spent and Miriam nibbled at Ephraim’s ear, did the playtime end and the negotiations begin.

  She wanted another exemption for her clan. She was especially fond of the work her nephew, Polemicus Fynn, was doing in the scientific corps aboard the Nephesian. He wanted to broaden his range and considered the chemical engineering division a plum opportunity. He was restricted, however, by the employment ceiling on anyone of his social caste.

  “I’m sure you can convince the Sanctum of the goodwill this promotion would demonstrate,” she told Ephraim.

  “Just as I did for the three Polemicus who now serve in the UG. Miriam, you test the limits of my power. My colleagues may become suspicious of this trend. Yes?”

  “Please now, Ephraim. There are no suspicions in a bureaucracy, especially one as arrogant and impenetrable as the Sanctum.”

  “Point taken. I’ll see what I can do. Anything else?”

  “Yes. I have another funds transfer to the Homestead Security Account. You’ll see it pass through, as usual?”

  He chuckled. “Oh, Miriam. What would the other clans think? Would they wonder what you purchase with those haebims? Would they support all those growing caches of weapons?”

  She didn’t blink, and Ephraim knew he had her.

  “Don’t worry, Miriam. You’ll never be exposed. What purpose would that serve other than to introduce insurgent notions in more Hiebim? Yes? And we both know you are at least a generation away from having enough firepower
to take on the ground forces of even one Carrier, let alone liberating this world.” He kissed her on the cheek. “Live your fantasy. It matters not to me. I’ll be back on Earth long before then.”

  She rolled away and sat up on the corner of the bed.

  “You’re a man of surprises, Ephraim. Always something unexpected from you.”

  “Don’t feel disappointed, Miriam. I’m Prime Regent. The extent of what I know goes far beyond what you could imagine. Yes? At any rate, now that your requests have been fulfilled, I have one of my own. A curiosity, as much as anything.”

  He sat beside her and wrapped a compassionate arm around her. “I’m curious about the young haepong warrior who seems to have adopted your clan. I believe he’s been with you for almost two years now. From Trayem, isn’t he?”

  He could feel her skin run cold as she cleared her throat.

  “Yes. Hadeed. Why are you interested in him?”

  “No particular reason. I understand there was some considerable discord between Polemicus and Trayem when he completed his Passage of Summit in your presence. Yes?”

  “Minor clan disagreement. Long ago. We have moved forward. It’s no concern of yours or any Chancellor.”

  “Correct.” He sighed. “Very well, Miriam. In truth, I am familiar with young Trayem. I met him once, almost nine years ago. I was in Asra for a brief visit, and he and I shared … quality time. I have followed his haepong career and his movements around Ashkinar with considerable interest. Like others, I was concerned when he went missing from Trayem. Naturally, I was relieved when he conveniently turned up at Polemicus.” When she pulled away from him, Ephraim knew what to say next. “My sources tell me he is your favorite. Perhaps much more than a mere protégé. Has he shaved his head for you?”

  She jumped up and reached for her tunic. “None of your concern, Ephraim. There are boundaries, even between us.”

  “He and I share a well-respected Matriarch. My curiosity is natural. Yes? Have you told him why you do not have a single hair on your body? Would you tell him the truth if he asked?”

  She dressed quickly and quietly, moving toward the door.

  “Silence does not befit you, Miriam.”

  As Miriam slipped on her shoes, Ephraim saw the future play out in his mind. The pieces fell into place as magically as he had hoped, and the images concluded with blood flowing freely in the Bengalese River. This day was quickly becoming more momentous than he dared hope.

  “Before your next visit,” he said, “I will speak to Elizer about treating you with more courtesy and informing me of your arrival in short order. Yes?”

  Miriam glanced over her shoulder as she opened the bedroom door.

  “You do that.”

  She disappeared into the shadows, but Ephraim did not bother to follow. His interests were more pressing and more delightful. As if destined by the universe, Elizer and Miriam had given him everything he needed to ensure a long, fruitful and satisfying journey into fate.

  He dressed then put on his blue glasses.

  “Come to me,” he said.

  Immediately, his worlds shifted. He stood upon a cliff’s edge and stared out across a range of low mountains toward a distant sea. The sun set in blood red. Behind him, the rhythms of miniature guitars and the laughter of hundreds of his ancestors filled the evening mountain air.

  When he turned, Ephraim found himself dumbstruck by the massive A-framed lodge, the façade of which glowed in the flickering light of dozens of stationary torches. Almost all those who bore his direct DNA over the past three millennia laughed and danced their way into what would undoubtedly be an endless night of reveling and debauchery. He had seen this orgy play itself out in so many locations throughout Earth’s history, even though he rarely participated. It was never quite the same for the living; his father had warned him of this even before Ephraim took possession of his own glasses at age fourteen.

  “You will not taste the same to them,” his father had said, a desolation clouding his eyes. “They will love you as one of their own, but they cannot forget what you represent in the grander mission. You will remind them of what they desperately want to forget.”

  Ephraim heard the echoes of his father and immediately swept them from his mind. No, he thought. I will not go there.

  Instead, he searched the crowd for Frederic Ericsson, and he found the great general sipping a pink cocktail through a long straw with an umbrella leaning against the fluted lip. He sported the usual fat cigar in his other hand. When their eyes contacted, Frederic waved him over to a table otherwise unoccupied.

  “You should try one of these,” Frederic greeted Ephraim. “The taste is all but nonexistent, of course, yet it reminds the spirit of the recklessness of childhood. Fascinating.”

  Ephraim took a seat. “Where are we? I cannot place it.”

  “Ah, yes. Santo Barbosa Province, Pan American Consortium. Six hundred twenty two years ago, by your reckoning. Remarkable view of the Pacific. Yes?”

  “Indeed,” Ephraim said. “Frederic, I have important matters to relate.”

  Ericsson put down his pink cocktail, offered a side-nod and reached across the table. They joined hands. Frederic closed his eyes for a few seconds as he linked with Ephraim and consumed three months of memories since their last encounter. He puffed on his cigar.

  “Now that,” the general said with eyes wide open, “is worth a round of cocktails.” Ephraim looked down and saw two beautifully decorated drinks in the center of the table. “You have had a very busy day, my friend.”

  “Yes, I have. I expect the remaining threads can be tied together within the year.”

  “And you have no doubt that the impending death of Hiebimini is the sign?”

  Ephraim tapped the table. “It completes the Eighth Stanza of the Accord. ‘The fall will come not in the bath of fire, but in the arrival of the first flame unknown.’”

  Frederic sighed. “Hmm. ‘And in its faint shadow is brewed the rage of the misbegotten sands.’ My friend, you do understand the danger of prophecy? It is widely open to interpretation and only validated by the fulfillment of history itself. The first seven stanzas were not confirmed for decades … even centuries … after the debate over them began. If you have miscalculated …”

  Ephraim grabbed the cocktail and sipped the bland beverage with his upper lip striking a pose of unwavering confidence. “No, Frederic. I could not have a more crystalline view of what lies ahead. Perhaps because we are so near the end, or because my son will be the last generation … I can’t say. You were the second in our line, so you will have to trust me on this one. Yes?”

  Frederic gave a hearty laugh and tucked the cigar between his teeth. “Indeed. So, I have some questions about the other threads. First, this one you’ve been developing. The Hiebim boy. Do you still believe he has potential?”

  “I do. His disillusionment has been remarkably profound, more so than most who were displanted from the Genysen. Rage and grief are powerful motivators, but vengeance … that is the destructor. The quickest path to chaos. Yes?”

  “Indeed. But he would be one against a world of believers. And you have yet to instill in him a powerful enough motive for vengeance on a grand scale.”

  “Patience. He will be where we need him.”

  Frederic drowned his smile. “And the other one. The Matriarch. She concerns me.”

  “Same thing Elizer says to me every week. She is a dangerous commodity, for certain. She understands more about realpolitique than even the best of the Sanctum. Her goals are immense but also unattainable.”

  “Precisely. She can’t hurt the Collectorate. In her frustration, she may decide to focus on a more specific target. Take care, Ephraim. This woman may try to assassinate you.”

  Ephraim had nothing in him but laughter.

  “My dear Frederic, I am counting on it.”

  TEN

  THE FAVORITE

  TRAYEM HADEED RETURNED to the enclave beneath the yellow mesa as a her
o. He rode high in the front passenger seat of a six-wheel Tumbler, its roof retracted, as he passed through the perimeter gate of the enclave and waved to the crowds of Polemicus who cheered from either side of the road. Boys – all of them obsessed with haepong since Hadeed’s arrival almost three years earlier – tossed blue and red pelotas into the roadway in the hopes that the sport’s signature balls would be crushed beneath the Tumbler’s massive wheels. The clan had not witnessed the homecoming of an Ashkinar continental haepong champion in eighteen years. Many elders had stored a surplus of pelotas in the hope of one day being able to reenact the traditional welcoming of the sport’s grandest warrior.

  They shouted his name in unison, and he responded with the deep, guttural trademark for which he was known, “Ah-rooh, ah-rooh, ah-rooh!” Halfway through the parade, he saw a cluster of six- and seven-year-old newbs whom he had been training before leaving to compete in the continental tournament. Hadeed tapped the driver on the shoulder then jumped out of the Tumbler and allowed the boys, all wearing decorative shombas, to encircle him. Some wrapped their arms around his waist and hugged him, while others kissed his open-faced hands. The smallest stood several feet away, tears of exultation streaming down their cheeks. Hadeed struggled forward, carrying the weight of several children, then bent down and kissed the little ones on the forehead. He told them how they would one day raise the banner of a continental championship themselves.

  He did not give a speech to the mass of Polemicus, nor did Hadeed look among the crowd to see whether any of his Trayem brethren had made the trip. Sometimes, he went days without thinking of them – even his gene-mother and the late Azir. He was exhausted; the scars of three championship game wounds – all of them life-threatening without the quick attention of field surgeons – were tender. An intoxicating swill of crimson liquor from the previous night’s parties clogged his mind. He had no remembrance of the last time he slept. Yet Hadeed did not allow the roars and adulation to take second place to his need to sleep in the arms of the woman he loved.