her differently. Of the dozen or so prefects, she was the only one to get Donovan and Ouranos to implant her mind in a Cyclops body like his. Her technological wherewithal aided that feat. "Yes, prefect?"
She lowered her head and then turned to look upon her fellows. Most were in cubes like the Caesar used to be. Gallian and Titus had robotic marionettes. The two "living" prefects appeared nervous. "There is growing rancor in the international community …"
"Pah," Cleon said.
Etne shushed him and continued, "We have ignored the outside world since the annexation of Nandia."
"They can talk and talk for ages on end, dear," Lucanus said, "but they will do nothing. The Pact of Nations hasn't dared stand against the Empire since Caesar Chlorus two hundred years ago."
Etne nodded. "True, but the annexation did cause the Pact's Defense Committee to meet again for the first time in several decades."
"Since Strand," the emperor said.
Etne took a step toward Caesar's chair and knelt. "Imperator, I have received word that there is talk of recriminations."
Gallian and three others laughed. Caesar gazed into Etne's false eyes yet he believed he saw sincerity. Gallian spoke up, "Pay no heed to such talk, my lord. If the Pact of Nations deigns to bite at our heels, they have no teeth to harm us." Etne looked toward the sky in frustration. She was ready to answer him but the chorus of laughter from the various boxed minds proved too loud.
Caesar raised his hand and the noise subsided. "You are wrong, Gallian." He glanced at Etne and saw her smile. That made him feel better. "Tiberia is dependent on several nations for resources we cannot produce ourselves." Etne was nodding and he pointed at her.
"Embargos," she said.
"Indeed." The prefects were silent and Maxentius leaned forward. "The Empire's population is now over one billion. Our natural resource stockpiles are nearing depletion and we seem unable to find more within our borders."
Curus spoke softly, "Could we annex Eridia? They have little in the way of defenses …"
Caesar lifted his hand and shook his head. "Too far away and nearly stripped clean centuries ago. The same for Gela. That island is desolate … little point in even maintaining a presence there."
Etne stood again and backed away. "My sources say an embargo will be proposed within the month."
"I have heard the same." Maxentius leaned his face against his right hand. "I have a plan to … maintain our sovereignty and our way of life." The prefects said nothing. Caesar continued, "I will, perhaps to my own surprise, require your aid, prefects." He stood and clasped his hands behind his back. "The coming weeks will be trying for all in the Empire. I dare not share our plans now, but I will need you to speak with the magistrates and governors in your regions. Ensure peace on the homefront. Assure the people that their sons and daughters will not be conscripted into imperial service."
"Of course, imperator."
"Absolutely, my lord."
"Yes, dominus."
Caesar nodded and stepped away from the group. He glanced back at Etne and motioned for her to follow. Immediately, she trotted across the grass to be by his side. Maxentius kept looking back at the collection of boxes and puppets. The cubes were garishly decorated with false medals and swaths of fabric meant to evoke togas.
"My lord?"
Looking away from them, he said, "I have never made a secret of my distate for the prefects."
She blinked rapidly a few times and nodded. "Yes, lord?"
"You, however," he wagged his finger at her for a second, "are much more valuable than perhaps even you realize." Her eyes widened and he continued, "Your technological connections. The surveillance legislation you shepherded through the Senate some years ago. I will continue to need them both."
"Of course."
The emperor leaned in close to her and said, "I will make certain that Tiberia can survive whatever the world may do." He clenched his fist and continued, "With armies of Cyclops, I will strike out at the Pact before they may do anything."
Etne slowly pulled back and stared at him. She said nothing.
Maxentius grinned. "If we plant our flags in the soil of the nations that supply us, there can be no embargo."
XLII
THE MESSENGERS
140 Years Before the End
The tender entered the Gaber home in Ghattaffan and observed.
Minah Gaber remained, as did four of her children and her late husband's mother. They all worked at the farm. They all continued to eke out their existence.
"Great God," she began with her arms outstretched, "I ask that you bless our meal and allow it to fill us with energy so we might do your will. Amen." After a few moments of silence, Minah lowered her arms and said, "Let's eat."
The youngest, Jarrek, ate his bread first and ripped it apart in his teeth. Minah shook her head at him and then smiled.
The Messenger watched them and noted the happiness that seemed to remain within the mother, despite their travails. The being then looked about itself and saw the future echoes that crowded the home.
It is almost cruel, it thought. But it may be the only way.
Once dinner was done and the children were in bed, only Minah and her husband's mother remained awake. While the elderly woman sewed, the Messenger caught Minah's attention with a sound only she could hear.
Gaber exited the house and stood on the small porch. She looked into the dark distance. The stars were visible. A light nearly a kilometer away was seen. That was all.
The being allowed Nami's existence to fill her. She felt her pain, her sadness, her frailty, and her love. The memories of her short life ran through the Messenger's mind in the instant before she spoke.
"Mother?"
Minah's head turned quickly and her heart raced. Her hair stood on end and she collapsed to her knees. She opened her mouth but it was a few seconds before the barest sound emerged, "Nami?"
The girl nodded. "I can't stay long," she said, "but it's important."
In a dash, Minah crossed the several meters of the porch and swooped the child into her arms. She squeezed her tightly and wept. "I don't care! You're back!"
The being in the guise of Nami smiled and returned the hug. "Mommy, I can't stay."
Minah rocked her back and forth for several more moments. Finally, she pulled her head away and said, "You're not really back, are you?" Her tear-soaked face glistened in the starlight.
Nami shook her head. "No. But … I needed to tell you something."
"What?"
"You need to leave." She glanced toward the house. "Everyone."
Minah's eyes darted toward the window before she turned her head to one side, "Why, baby girl?"
"War is coming." Minah didn't seem to react so Nami reached toward the house and put her hand on the wall. "Machines. And men. They're coming soon."
Minah nodded a little but didn't respond. She held her daughter's hand. "This is our home. Your grandmother," she looked into the window but didn't see the old woman, "she's too weak to travel. We can't leave her."
"But the bad machines are coming. In a few days, they could be walking through the house."
Minah smiled and squeezed the child's hand tighter. "Something happened while you were gone, baby. I met an angel. From God." Nami tilted her head to listen while Minah kept speaking, "She said that God has a plan and that we have our parts to play. We just have to have faith."
Nami looked at her feet and pouted somewhat. After a moment, she looked up and said, "What if the plan is for you to leave here?"
Minah nodded and looked toward the stars. She breathed in and out, slowly. "I don't feel like it is." She smiled at the image of her daughter and then took her other hand in hers. "I have faith."
Nami asked, "But what if I'm an angel, too?" Minah blinked. The girl smiled and hugged her mother's neck. "I love you, mommy."
Minah choked up again and tears st
reamed from her eyes anew. "Oh, baby. I love you with all that I am."
Nami pulled away and muttered, "I have to go now."
Minah began to protest, but before she could speak, the girl was gone. She fell forward on the porch and cradled her own head in her arms. She sobbed loudly.
The Messenger watched. As the last vestige of Nami left its being, it shuddered with an echo of sadness and regret. Still, the experiment was a success. Faith remains, she thought. Will it be enough to see her through the coming days?
The explosion rocked the house.
The father, Rosto, jumped from his bed and looked out the window. Smoke and flames were billowing from the storefronts on the other side of the street. There was another explosion further away. He leaned out of the window and saw a plane streak by in the sky.
"Everyone, get up!" he screamed. He pulled on his pants and shoes. He slipped his arms into his shirt and picked up the cloth bag that was hanging on his door.
"What's going on, father?"
"I don't know. Clothes, now!"
There was another explosion further away.
"I just called Kari. They're leaving, too."
The father nodded at his wife and clapped his hands. "Move, move!" A bomb hit next door. Glass from the bedroom window facing the street blew across the room and cut his arm. He leaned against the wall and his daughter brought him the first aid bag. "It's not that bad. You can patch it up when we get out."
"Ready!" his son yelled from the door.
Rosto looked at his wife and daughter. They nodded and left the apartment. As they descended the stairs, tiling from overhead came loose and the lights flickered. The
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