The Blue-Spangled Blue (The Path Book 1)
Page 5
INTERCHAPTER A
From: mtmdangelo@smg.va.ter
To: brandod@university.edu.jit
Subject: Greetings
Date: May 10, 2683 13:09:32 (SST)
Mwana na ngai ya bolingo,
Good to hear from you, Brandino. You left without a proper goodbye, unless telling your crude command seems proper in your intellectual mind. Of course, writing to simply say “arrived; hope yall’re okay” after three months of silence truly shows your spite for us.
We are copasetic. Your absence is seldom noticed but on birthdays and such. You hardly came around anyway. But I’m certain you miss or will soon miss us: your identity always was so fragile, caro mio.
Ayanna has kept coming by, even after what you did to her. She and your brother have begun to date. They have much in common, those two. Maybe she’ll find in him the man you never were.
In any case, let’s wish them happiness, yes? Just like your brother wishes that you find yourself or whatever you’re searching for on that heretic desert world.
By the way, your zia tells me there’s a chapel in the CPCC city, on Zoo Street. Mother Burgstrum presides. Don’t forget to confess. Considering your behavior, you should no doubt do so often.
The Four bless and keep you.
Marie-Thérèse Makomo-D’Angelo
Parish Priestess
La Chiesa del Santissimo Redentore
Excerpt from Prime Minister Ginette Lubin’s Special Legislative Address: May 15, 2683
Members of the tri-cameral Consortium Diet, many thanks for your attention for this unscheduled address. In the interests of moving forward as a unified whole, we gather today so I can announce a decision you’ve known about for some time. As humanity continues to spill beyond its traditional boundaries, we come upon many pockets of life. On occasion, these communities are human, peopled by our siblings who have gone before us, clearing a path among the dark between the stars. Sigma Draconis, its principal world Bima; 82 Eridani, its single inhabited planet Semanawak; Alpha Mensae, circled by Erin; and now Terego, in the 47 Ursae Majoris system. These are the first four, but history suggest that they will not be the last. At least three times in the last five hundred years humans left Sol in desperate exoduses, and many of those ships likely reached their destinations. When we stumble across them, we must be ready to embrace them, to show them their siblings have grown beyond the pettiness of the past. We must welcome them as family.
Our efforts with the government of Jitsu should serve as a model. That world won its independence in a fair, just way based on fair, just principles. Now, however, we court it, coax it, hoping it will join us in a concerted effort to provide each human with the decent, happy life that is their right. We are stronger when we are unified. This strategy is also working with Maharaja Leksono in the Kunti or Sigma Draconis system. His agreement two years ago—to dismantle the monarchy and establish a republic that will seek membership in the CPCC—planted the seed of my present decision.
Working with Kunti ambassadors, I realized that, for the first time since humanity was unified under the USR and later the CPCC, we are in need of a Ministry of State, a department specializing in conducting relations with human societies outside the Consortium.
I would like to nominate Deputy Chu Chen of New Beijing as head of the new ministry. His work on that Consortium-colonized world makes him an ideal minister of state, as does his experience in the Army and the private sector. Each of you has a dossier on Deputy Chen in your inboxes. I am confident that his approval will be swift. We need to get the ministry up and running posthaste.
Thank you again for your time and attention. “In unity there is strength.” Have a good day, honorable legislators.
CHAPTER 6
Santo rode on an empty government transport toward the jinja, the shrine where the Oracle lived in absolute isolation. Every Thursday he was permitted an audience with her, at the hour of his choice. It was an honor conceded him for having discovered her connection to the Ogdoad. Like John the Baptist or Dédalo Mostrenco, he had discovered a theophany. Had it not been for the idiocies of his other niece, he would have shot up the hierarchy of the planet's theocracy faster, and now be the ratowanin—the archon of Jitsu—rather than just a powerful district head.
Tenshi. Agent of toil, meaningless, useless struggle against entropy, which was key to restoring the Ogdoad. She thought, as had many physical and social architects throughout history, that building would reverse the inevitable dissolution of the universe. How wrong she was. Momentary victories were all toil ever won. Fleeting, without the slightest significance, like this idiocy of cleaning up the other continent and the polluted sea where chaos was beginning to tear down the false world. True reality, the Ogdoad, was curled up within everything, waiting for the clock to wind down, at which time it would expand and subsume everything within its incomprehensible borders.
The transport docked at the dome that surrounded the sacred complex, a cluster of windowless cylinders. After an initial scan, Santo made his way along stone walkways to the honden, the building that housed the Oracle. Inside, representatives of the Karibudan guild—known as the Close in Standard—met him. Those omedeyo attendants guided him through the multiple corridors, security checks, skin scrubs and clothing changes required of anyone permitted an audience with Samanei Koroma.
Santo was then led by three female security officers to the entrance of the White Room, where Samanei spent her days. Beyond it, through another labyrinth of corridors, was the Black Room, where she was taken at night.
The Oracle was only permitted to see six people: Santo, the Archon, and four other high-ranking members of the theocracy. Otherwise, her attendants waited till she fell asleep before they slipped inside, drugged her to keep her from awakening, bathed and changed her clothing, extracted her waste and filled her with nutrients: everything necessary to keep her completely cut off from her own physical needs and the outside world.
No stimuli of any kind, except her communication with the Eight.
Beside the shimmering force door stood a chirurgic, a highly advanced, blackmarket medbot equipped with sentient AI. Nestor had given Santo the machine when he had first begun negotiating with the Brotherhood. The illegal gift had sealed the deal.
“Arojin Koroma,” it said.
“Have you solved the problem yet?” Santo demanded.
“No, sir. But I believe I am close to a solution.”
Grunting in irritation, Santo stepped through the force door.
The room was as it had been for the last twelve years: completely white, empty of any furniture, fixture or indeed of anything at all. Faintly, the holy babble of Lady Domina’s oral journal—played night and day to aid Samanei’s meditation—insinuated itself into every crevice of the chamber. In its center sat the Oracle, ebony skin against her white robe the only change in the expanse of sameness. Her hair was cropped close to her scalp, and her nails were similarly short.
An empty look filled her eyes: she was connected.
“Orakuru. Ki nitaru. Santo.”
Her lips moved soundlessly. San. To.
“Un. Puran nikaburaru nikke...”
“Speak to me in English, dog.”
Santo straightened as if slapped.
“And not the sub-standard dialect of Standard so prevelant on this world. Just imagine you're reading scripture. Can you handle that, Santo?”
The language, intonation and accent were that of Alejandro Dresch, the Founder, Santo realized. He fell to his knees.
“It's an honor, Founder.”
“I'm not the Founder, idiot. You're talking to a twenty-five-year-old woman with dissociative identity disorder and schizophrenia whom by all rights you should have cured, you sick, evil bastard. You just like the idea that your crimes are somehow justified.”
The same test as always. Do I wield sufficient faith or no?
“But you are the Founder, despite what you say. And I am your humble servant.”
“The teyopan... it was attacked.”
“That's what we’d hoped. It gives you cover while furthering our goals.”
“Yes, but Rawe won't establish the anti-terrorism squads without putting the measure to a vote in the Chamber of Deputies, and if they get their hands on the squads...”
“Your own fault, no doubt. Pushed too hard, didn't you? How many times must I warn you about appearing ambitious? You're too eager to get Mutemi Rawe out. Despite what you believe, he's no fool. Rather, he's cunning, and he's got a good decade or two left in him.”
Santo blanched. “What?”
Samanei rubbed her temples. “Haven't you got any patience? Doesn't the salvation of this planet mean more to you than grabbing for power? Or have your promises to me been in vain? Are you an infidel?”
Santo bowed his head, shook it emphatically. “No, Founder. Forgive me. I’m gonna... I will strive for longsuffering, though I am zealous to see your plan come to fruition. It's just that, well, there are other factors. Tenshi, for example. I'm afraid she gots...”
“She has, Santo. I said English, or are you deliberately trying to end this audience?”
“Sorry. She has plans to use this tragedy to gain a foothold in Kinguyama.”
“That will never happen.” The Oracle’s face grew grimly fierce.
“But she's extremely popular.”
“Popular? That bitch?” Samanei leapt to her feet and lurched wildly about, clutching at her robe. “She let them walk me out of there. Twelve years, and she’s never tried to get me free! Now she's popular?”
The Oracle abruptly stopped her frantic movements. Hunching over, she took shuffling steps toward Santo.
“Ai, shibaru! Yewa chuppek, adunim. Shempure shikmembero.”
His mother's voice. The one he'd hoped to hear. The one that had pulled him from the depths of his depression so many years ago and confirmed that his progenitor had been translated upon death.
“What should I do, Umma? Stay with the plan? All the way to the end? She's strong, real strong. Maybe as strong as me. She maybe can pull it all down.” The image of a fourteen-year-old girl running him out of her house, screaming obscenities at him as he hurried away. Not human. “I'm...”
“Nan? Shikihiro zo!”
“I'm afraid of her,” Santo admitted, his voice small.
Samanei suddenly and calmly sat back down. She slipped her robe down to her waist, revealing a nearly emaciated body and two smallish breasts.
“Come, adunim. Come to your umma.”
This was the sign that had long ago confirmed for Santo her true identity. No one but Santo, his mother Miko and the Ogdoad itself knew of this ritual. She had to be the theophany. Santo crawled on all fours to her lap. She bent over him, offering her right breast to his mouth. As he began suckling, she caressed his head.
“My baby. Umma's gonna take good care you. You just do what I tell you, everything will be just fine. You need something big to solidify your position, yank people’s minds away from reform, leave Rawe with no choice. Then the squads will be yours, and you'll get what you deserve. Tenshi, too. Everyone will get what they deserve.”
As Santo's eyes closed slowly, Samanei’s head tilted back, a smile conquering her face in ambiguous fits and starts. When next she spoke, it was in another voice, full of dark timbres and determination, detailing what was convenient for him to know of the plan.
CHAPTER 7
The terminal in Tenshi’s office chirped.
Glancing at the controls, she saw that Ambarina Lopes was calling and thumbed the connection open with a sigh.
Ambar’s round, pretty face surged from the terminal, smiling.
“Hey, babe.”
Tenshi leaned forward. “I’m sorry, ‘babe’? Really? I seem to remember dumping your cheating arse six months ago.”
Ambar winced without losing her smile. “Ouch. But I remember explaining myself and apologizing, then buying you a really expensive arc welder to make up for my moment of weakness.”
Settling back in her chair, Tenshi crossed her arms over her chest. “The welder has proven a lot more dependable than you, by the way.”
Ambar raised her hands in a defensive gesture. “Truce? I’m staying a couple of weeks, giving everyone shore leave so they can attend the fair. Watching the news of what happened yesterday, I thought you might need a little break, something to take your mind off the tragedy and the rest of the stress.”
“What did you have in mind?” Tenshi asked, tempted to roll her eyes and smirk.
“Dinner. As friends. At that Mediterranean place you love: Messina.”
The idea was tempting. Tenshi had been working at a grueling pace for nearly three months. Her mouth watered at the thought of steaming couscous di pesce and a glass of rosé.
Of course, she’d have to spar with Ambar, who would be trying to get into bed with her. Still, even that sort of foolishness would be a welcome distraction.
“Fine. But dinner’s on you, Captain Lopes.”
Ambar smoothed her short brown hair with her left hand and winked. “You bet, Ms. Koroma. Reservation’s at 8 pm. See you then.”
When the day’s work was done, Tenshi walked over to the administrative landing pad. A black Strugar-Rask Tarhiata crouched on its landing struts like some sleek predator. She’d imported the stylish and expensive personal transport not long after renting her building to the CPCC. A touch of her hand irised open the access port, and she quickly esconsed herself before the pilot interface, telling the navigation system to take her home.
For now, home was an entire floor of the most expensive apartment building in Station City. After crossing brambly sand for several minutes, the transport lifted in an arc over the spires of Tenshi’s adopted city, curving toward a tasteful tower of stone and steel. The force gate of her landing bay shimmered brighter in the waning sunlight and then winked out. The Tarhiata eased in and settled gently down.
Conscious of the time, Tenshi took a quick shower and picked a peach pantsuit from her closet. No slinky dress tonight. She didn’t want to give Ambar the wrong idea. No matter how much Tenshi longed for the feel of another’s hands on her body, their relationship was over, forever.
Taking the lift down to the lobby, Tenshi slipped into the cooling evening air and stepped onto the slidewalk for the short trip. Messina was just a few blocks away, in Baryo Chigu, the Little Earth district. Street traffic was light, just a few dozen automated taxis, and only an occasional transport crossed the skies above.
A five-star establishiment, Messina was staffed by actual human beings. Mikis Vandi, the maître d', greeted Tenshi with a smile.
“Bishaberu, Ms. Koroma. It’s been a while. Let me take you to your table.”
Ambar stood as they approached. She was wearing a sheer black gown, its neckline open to her navel. Her gold skin sparkled with glitter.
Tenshi’s breath caught for a second in her throat.
Damn, she’s pulling out all the stops, huh?
A quick kiss on the cheek, and the two sat down.
“I already ordered for you,” Ambar said. “The couscous di pesce, right?”
Tenshi gave a soft laugh. The captain was good at the game, no doubt. But she played against too many opponents.
“Thanks. Are you getting the paella?”
Ambar leaned back, grinning. “Pues, claro, mujer. It’s one of the reasons I keep coming back to this planet. You being the other.”
“There’s plenty of wonderful things about Jitsu,” Tenshi countered as their server approached with a bottle of rosé imported from Earth. Once she’d inspected the wine, he poured them both a glass and set the bottle between them.
Ambar took a sip and shrugged. “Station City’s not so bad. But, sorry, querida. Not much else. Bland buildings. Sand and pale vegetation. A blasted continent on
the other side of the equator. Overly salty ocean with lousy beaches everywhere.”
“It’s a harsh world, sure. But starkly beautiful. And the people—”
“—are mostly zombies,” Ambar interjected.
Tenshi shook her head, feeling her pulse quicken. “No, they’re not. Some are fooled into unnecessary obedience by Machiavellian leaders, but most are special folks who have chosen lives of quiet meditation and focus on community over greedy competition and aggressive expansion.”
“You sound like a politician. Or a preacher.”
Tenshi downed her wine in a single irritated gulp. “The problem is that you’ve never understood my dedication to Jitsu. You’ve never even tried to step outside your own skin and see things from my perspective. You frankly don’t appear to respect me as a person, which is why it was so easy for you to cheat on me, I guess.”
Ambar picked up the bottle and served Tenshi more wine.
“It’s kind of your fault, bella.”
“What? Are you fucking kidding me, Ambar?”
“If you were with me out there, amid the stars, instead of here on this bloody monastery of a planet, I wouldn’t get so overwhelmed by my needs.”
“Ah, so that’s what you want me for, huh? To satisfy your needs.”
Ambar reached out and took both Tenshi’s hands in hers. The feeling was electric, and the architect couldn’t help but half-close her eyes and swallow heavily against the simmer in her veins.
“No, babe. What we have is much more than that. Always has been. I want to share the vastness of that swirling black with you, Tenshi. Show you the stars. Go from world to world, exploring the beauty of each. You could sell your designs, see the architecture in a dozen places you’ve only dreamt of. And every night, I will hold you in my arms. Treat you like the goddess you are.”
It took a considerable act of will to pull her hands free from that tempting grasp, but Tenshi did.