Lords of Kobol - Prelude: Of Gods and Titans

by Edward T. Yeatts III

directing Ghattaffan officials at a local and national level to shut down Ramani communities and seek out practitioners of that faith."

  She leaned forward and cast a stern look into the lens. "Whether in their cults or on their own, we will find these people. We will find them and separate them from civilized society. Only then can Ghattaffan blossom."

  "Case number five one five, zero ninety-nine," the court attendant said. "The Assurian people versus Goran Tol Abdel."

  Bound by handcuffs, a young man was led into the chamber. Once he entered the raised holding pen, the guard latched the cuffs to the steel rail. Hyperion squinted and looked at him from head to toe. He was very thin, possibly malnourished. The Psilon glanced down at the file on his screen and saw that he was arrested just five days ago. That's not our fault then.

  The prosecutor resumed her place behind the lectern. "Honors, Abdel is charged with treason and insurrection."

  The Tiberian general nodded and looked toward Hyperion. He, in turn, looked to his right. The lone Assurian member of the tribunal was sweating, again, and he stared straight ahead. The praetor looked at the prosecutor and asked, "The evidence is incontrovertible?"

  She nodded once. "Yes, my lord."

  Hyperion lifted the stone sphere and smacked it on the stone pedestal. "I declare you guilty of all charges."

  The young man's face bunched together and he lowered his head. As he began to sob, an older man stood in the gallery and began to move toward the lectern. "My lords? My lords?"

  The Tiberian general rolled his eyes and mumbled, "Again."

  "The convicted has the right to provide witness before sentencing is passed," Hyperion said. "Do you have someone to speak for you, Mr. Abdel?" Of course, the Titan knew he did.

  "Me, my lords." He stepped before the lectern and accidentally stumbled into the prosecutor. She backed away and covered her nose. "I am Goran's father." He was breathing heavily and his voice cracked as he spoke. "He did not do anything wrong. He was pulled off his bicycle by police …"

  "He has been found guilty," Hyperion interrupted. "At this point it is a matter of sentence."

  The young man cried again and his father futilely reached toward him. "I'm sorry. I don't know what to do." He looked toward the panel with his mouth hanging open. Finally, he nodded and said, "I can make an offer."

  Hyperion raised a single eyebrow and said, "Approach." Tentatively, the man did and the praetor asked, "What can you offer us?" He nodded toward the convict. "What can he offer us, for that matter?"

  "I operate an algae farm, lord."

  The general and the Psilon laughed. Hyperion leaned over the bench and studied the father's emaciated form. "I doubt that." He was about to protest but he was interrupted. "Even if I believed you, all algae farms have been seized for imperial use. We don't need you." He waved him off and the father turned around. His shoulders slumped forward and his feet scuffed across the tile floor.

  The general leaned toward Hyperion and whispered, "The boy didn't do anything violent but he's from a town where we've had some trouble." The Titan nodded and the general added, "Execute."

  Hyperion reached across his desk to two plastic cards. The one on top read, "Labor." He pushed it aside and lifted the one that read, "Death." He then turned it toward the Assurian panelist. The large man's large eyes glanced over and he nodded quickly.

  "Goran Tol Abdel," Hyperion said, "prepare for sentencing." He whimpered and his father moved toward him.

  "Death," the general said.

  Hyperion looked toward the Assurian jurist and he cleared his throat. Softly, he said, "Death."

  The Psilon said, "Death." He waved his hand and guards approached the holding pen.

  "No!" his father yelled. Goran reached toward him but the chains kept him close to the rail. They screamed repeatedly and the older man collapsed on the floor, wailing.

  Hyperion sighed and said, "Come on, now. We have four hundred more trials to get through today. There's no time for this."

  "Why won't they listen to me?" Coeus asked.

  "I do not know, lord." The general glanced nervously toward his subordinates. "Perhaps they simply don't understand all of your edicts?"

  "Excuses!" the praetor leapt from the vehicle and began to run across the tarmac. The Tiberian officers were right behind him. "I have been here for years! They don't respect me!"

  "I don't believe it's respect, dominus," the general said. Coeus looked behind him and then slowed. "I'm not certain what it is."

  "Lies," the Psilon growled. He stopped running and turned. "I hear people talk. I know you don't like me as praetor." The officers began to protest and Coeus said, "No! You say things about me. Bad things." He leaned forward and grabbed the front of the general's tunic. "You shouldn't say things about me."

  "Of course not, dominus."

  The Titan turned and continued to walk toward the cropdusting plane. The pilot was standing by the fuselage and he lifted the panel by the tank. Coeus nodded at him and removed a flask from his coat. He sniffed the cap and then poured the contents into the reservoir. After the pilot saluted and got into the craft, the group walked back to their vehicle.

  Once the plane lifted off and flew toward the many hectares of growing food nearby, the general spoke softly, "Dominus, what was that?"

  "A poison." The officers looked at each other warily. Coeus smiled, though. "The crops will die in a matter of days and then … then the people will have to come to us for food. They'll have to depend on us." He nodded. "That's what they need."

  A decade, Cronus thought. Nearly a decade here. He looked along the riverbank and allowed his eyes to hover on each of the kneeling prisoners.

  Legate Fava Sergius stood next to him and pointed at an older woman nearby. "This is the one intel says was the director." Slowly, the praetor turned his head toward her. He squinted despite the lack of sunlight. "I know, dominus. We found multiple codebooks and encrypted computer slates in her home." She handed one such panel over. "Her fingerprints were all over them."

  He tapped his fingers on the illuminated glass and saw images of the Empire's airfield outside Auju, before it was bombed. Cronus sighed and slowly turned his head away from the river.

  "I am … so very tired of this, legate."

  She nodded. "I understand, praetor. Alabor is full of dissent. It's their nature."

  "It's not my nature to deal with them in this way."

  She took a step closer to him and leaned against his left arm. Her proximity forced Cronus to look at Sergius and he saw the breeze displace a wave of her bright red hair. He blinked a few times and listened to her low voice, "Over the last few years, you have dealt with insurrection in this manner. On occasion. It was necessary."

  "Perhaps."

  She touched his arm. "It was. You would have utterly lost the respect of your generals had you not. You would have lost your imperium and perhaps the emperor would have recalled you in disgrace."

  Cronus tilted his head, "Disgrace may be preferable to this."

  She gripped his arm. Tightly. "Never say that." The praetor looked deeply into her eyes and she continued, "If you are to truly be Tiberian, if you want power … never accept disgrace. Do whatever must be done to avoid it. Do whatever must be done to achieve your aims."

  The Psilon glanced back toward the prisoners. "My aim is to leave Alabor."

  Sergius smiled and Cronus' gaze was drawn to a warmth in her eyes. "Then do your duty, praetor. Perhaps the Caesar will grace you with retirement."

  "Not likely," he muttered. Still, there's hope.

  He walked back to the river and pointed at a prisoner. The guard behind the man fired. His skull ruptured and he slumped forward into the water. He pointed at another person. Another shot. Another. Another.

  There remained only three prisoners. Two whimpering teens and the elderly organizer of this cell. "Stand them up,"
he said as he looked toward the boys. "Unbind them." He pointed toward the woman and said, "Her too."

  The teens' sobs slowed and they closed their eyes in silent prayer. They stood and nervously looked around at the guards while trying their best not to look at the dead bodies. "What do we do now?"

  "You go home," Cronus said. "Live a normal life. And tell everyone you know what you saw here today." They nodded.

  The praetor looked at the old woman. Her chin was held high and she seemed to be grinning. With a quick, smooth movement, Cronus pulled a handgun from his belt and shot her in the face. The boys screamed while her body slowly collapsed.

  He sighed and looked toward Sergius. She nodded and gave him an understanding smile.

  LII

  AHLAJELA

  127 Years Before the End

  "Please, master. Whatever you may spare." The man pushed through the group of beggars and into the marble building. He left nothing behind.

  Sado Ahljaela left the throng first and resumed his resting position in the shade of an adjacent storesfront. The collapsed crate shifted when he sat and Sado held it in place with his hand. He sighed and looked toward the sky.

  "You're new," an older man said next to him.

  Sado nodded. "New to town. That's all."

  "No family to go to?"

  Ahljaela looked down at his feet. "No. None that would have me." Certainly not after all my father did, he thought. 'Traitor,' my grandmother said. He sold names to the factory bosses. It's dirty but I understand why he did it.

  "Let me guess."