by Jean Johnson
(I’m prepared to offer my temporal assistance to reestablish them in other positions. Better to start again and rebuild with my help than to lose everything, after all…and if I don’t get your people’s help, a very large number of you will lose everything in the short term…and all of you in the long term.)
(I hope they agree because if they refuse, the Game ends, according to what you have foreseen,) he agreed. (I’m not the best at future-skimming, but I can See enough to know that you See true—I like the visualizations you used, by the way.)
(Thanks. Any help you can offer me, neutral though we may be, I’d appreciate,) she told him. Then pulled them out of the timestreams, adding, (Parting hands, now.)
(What sort of help?) he asked her, releasing her fingers. Again, only a couple heartbeats had passed in reality.
(Names of the Feyori I could contact between now and my manifestation. It’s not always easy to see your kind, particularly when they want to keep their presence and influences hidden. A name would help me locate them faster,) Ia said.
Hands on knees, he grunted and rocked himself forward, pushing upright. “Enjoy the view, meioa.”
“And you.” She watched him walk away, wondering if he would even acknowledge her question.
He did, several seconds after she turned her attention back to the half-silvered view.
(Telu’oc. Na-Ganj. Kropecz. Belini. Gallown.) Each name came with a subpulse associating its owner with a particular territory, and a warning. (No guarantees they will accept, half-breed. But they are the five most likely to at least stop and listen.)
(Thank you. There will be a very tasty coronal ejection in fourteen days. Safest place for you to feed will be just ahead of the leading edge of the largest gas giant’s L4. It’ll be a fast solar wind, and the L4 will have an ion storm that forms when it interacts with the gas giant’s magnetosphere—I’ll leave you to do the math of when and where the best point in time will be for you to snack,) she added, as he strolled out of view. (Since only you know whether it’ll be worth taking a personal day to fly out there in a leisurely, unnoticed way, or just wait until your shift ends and risk zipping off in a visible form, the day the flare reaches that section of space.)
(Thank you. I believe that’ll make a nice payment for the sugarstick,) he told her.
(I know. That’s why I offered it.)
He chuckled at the edges of her mind. (Polite child. You just might survive the Game…Have a good night.)
Ia stayed where she was for a few more minutes, then rose from the low bench and started the trek back to the section bearing the Hellfire’s gantry. Since she no longer had to pretend to type on a portable workstation, she pulled her datapad from her trouser pocket and began composing prophecies electrokinetically while she walked.
Part of her mind went to the list of names he had given her. Making a side note of them, she saved it to the pad. Belini, she already knew. Telu’oc wasn’t one she had considered before, but he was more likely than Kropecz to cooperate. Na-Ganj was in minor counterfaction to Belini through one of his other factioners, which meant bringing him to her side would be delicate diplomatically. Gallown could go either way.
She had to be back on board her ship within two more hours, before the news was leaked that the Prophet had finally been revealed and confirmed to the Sh’nai priesthood. When that little religion-based bombshell hit the local Nets, fanatic followers would begin searching for clues to the Prophet’s identity.
The Emperor might even be moved to demand that Ia present herself formally for recognition if things got out of control. She would have to call upon him before that happened. That was, if he didn’t call on her first; the chance for that stood at around seventy-three percent, which meant there was still a lot for her to do to ensure it happened.
She didn’t hurry back to the Hellfire, though; there was just enough time to do a little shopping, first. Her civilian clothes were getting old, and something new to wear in her rare, civvies-clad moments wouldn’t hurt the future.
APRIL 22, 2496 T.S.
Once again, she was escorted into the conference room hosted by the Tatth-Niel’s Department of the Imperial Army. This time, Ia did not come in uniform. She had found a shop selling dresses not too different from Earth-style cheongsams, but slit front and back to midthigh in petal-like panels as well as down the sides, and layered with more petals underneath.
Using the textile manufactory controls, she had loosened the fit of the long sleeves, adding buttons from elbow to wrist down each side so that she could hide her officer’s ident. The fabric was a plain, deep red, embroidered here and there with golden feathers, and it came with a matching, turban-like cap that covered her distinctive hair.
In short, it made her look like a woman, a civilian instead of a no-nonsense soldier. The color was also one associated with the Imperial Court, and her Asiatic tan was just golden enough to blend in with the average V’Dan tint. Nobody had looked twice at her on her way here.
The man waiting for her in the conference room was not a nobody, however. His Eternal Majesty, Emperor Ki’en-qua Nomin’ien V’Dania, Blade of Heavenly Justice, Shield of the Thirty-Seven Worlds—if one counted all the way down to the smallest, jointly founded domeworld colony—and One Hundred Sixty-Seventh Sovereign of V’Dan, definitely looked twice at her.
He glanced her way, then turned and stared as she was brought into the room by Leftenant P’kethra and the Grand General. His Majesty then frowned softly as she was introduced simply as Terran Space Force Ship’s Captain Ia, and quirked one brow upward. Handsome and just bordering on middle age, he wore the monarch’s version of the Imperial Army Dress Reds, decorated with what looked like his own half glittery of a few brooches, ribbons, and swags of whatever cultural significance applied. She hadn’t bothered to check in the timestreams since they weren’t important.
“Ship’s Captain Ia?” he repeated, staring at her.
Taking that as permission to speak, Ia bowed politely, formally. “In disguise, Your Eternity. Rumors already churn on the V’Dan Nets, and I would not have them connect a certain white-haired military savior of the Gatsugi’s opening battle with a certain white-haired soldier striding about the station. Not to mention your own appearance aboard the freeport is being kept discreet, is it not?”
“Correct. Sit,” he directed her, gesturing at one of the chairs at the middle point of table. His Terranglo, trade tongue of the Alliance, was far more eloquent than her V’Dan would have been. “This isn’t a formal meeting.”
She allowed the Grand General to hold her seat for her. “When a foreign soldier is called before the local head of state, it is always a formal meeting, Eternity.”
The title she used had originally belonged to the Immortal; War King Kah’el hadn’t been able to break her people from using it on him in turn when he had taken over the old, planet-bound empire. It had stuck with his descendants ever since, though none of them had ever lived longer than the normal life span. Ia used it now in respect, tipping her head.
“It is assumed that, as an officer, I must at all times represent my own government in a positive light toward your people,” she said. “But then, I believe that is what this meeting is about, is it not?”
“True,” he agreed, pulling out his own chair across from her, not waiting for the Grand General to come around the table and do so. That spoke cultural volumes about the middle-aged ruler’s candidness and intent. “Still, this is not a formal court appearance. Such a thing would cause a firestorm of public interest and an earthquake of religious turmoil. I would rather speak with you as one soldier to another since our nations are allies in war.”
“And my confirmation as a major religious figure should be used as a positive influence toward that war effort, I agree,” Ia stated. This was the other reason why she had chosen to appear in civilian clothes rather than her uniform. She could still speak as an officer of the Terran United Planets Space Force, but he would see her as the Prophet,
a subconscious influence. “Given I am here before you, I trust you have reviewed the evidence of the Sh’nai D’aspra Archives confirming my identity, and are not here to question it.”
“No. The evidence was rather straightforward. Unsettlingly so. My family have been Sh’nai followers for the last fourteen hundred years, ever since the Sang’q’ar religious unification movement. Of course, some have ruled in devout worship, some only by paying lip service. I fell closer to the worship side than the lip service,” His Majesty confided candidly, lacing his own fingers together. “But I am…uncertain how I should feel about you.
“As living proof of the Immortal’s words,” he stated, “you are a living saint whose presence has been one of the core predictions of Her Eternity…but as the Emperor of V’Dan, great-plus grandson of the War King himself, it is not politically wise for me to admit openly that the Immortal did, in fact, exist. Even after nearly five thousand years.” Leaning forward, he pinned Ia with his hazel grey eyes. “So what, exactly, am I to do with you?”
“Admitting that the Immortal did exist would lead to speculation that she still exists, being immortal,” Ia agreed. “That would lead every asteroid-headed idiot with a complaint against the current government to try to seek her out, or encourage con men to drum up some impostor. That would cause political instability. Yet because we—you and I—need the backing of the V’Dan people behind the war effort, to deny that I exist and that my abilities are real, just in the effort to deny the political-sized headache of the Immortal’s existence, would in turn cripple our efforts to defeat the Salik once and for all.”
“Once and for all?” He seized on that point.
She nodded soberly. “Once and for all. It will not be a pleasant fight, Eternity. I can only promise you that it will be a worthwhile one if and when we succeed.”
He sat back a little, considering her words. “So. We are back again to the problem of what do I do with you?”
She leaned forward on her elbows, echoing his pose by interlacing her fingers together. “My plan, Your Majesty, is and always has been to present my case matter-of-factly. I myself am not what is important; the future is important, and my abilities are merely a tool to access the best path to it. I suggest, with your permission, that I record a message for the Empire. It will be addressed to your fellow V’Dan for you to broadcast at your leisure. After we have left the system, since I would prefer another day of near anonymity for my crew. This is their only chance for Leave for the next eight months, and I’d like them to finish enjoying it.”
“And what would you say in this broadcast?” the leader of V’Dan asked, lifting his brow again.
“The flat truth. That I am here to direct the war effort so that as many lives can be saved as possible. That I am not here to answer petty individual questions about the future, but would rather urge your people to turn their energies toward the far-more-effective purpose of defending the Empire. I will then state plainly that the Immortal did and does exist,” Ia told him, quickly holding up one hand to forestall his protest, “but that she is still bound by her oaths to the descendants of the War King to stay out of V’Dan politics, so long as your line of Emperors and Empresses continues to lead your people well. I will then confirm that you, Emperor Ki’en-qua, are doing admirably well in this time of great trouble, so she will not return to rule and has no need to return.
“She is still bound by her promise,” Ia admitted to him. “So that will not be a lie. I will then state that it is best for the fate of the Empire for you to continue to lead your people for many years to come, and that your reign will have my firm support in that endeavor as the Prophet of a Thousand Years…which means that the orders you give your people will be seen as having my stamp of approval from that point on, whether or not I actually had anything to do with helping you craft them. That will wed religion to politics in a firm show of double support for your policy decisions.”
She added a slight, wry smile to that statement.
Ki’en-qua considered her words and nodded slowly. “So far, I like what I’ve heard. You’re showing support for my government, respect for our histories, laws, traditions, and the oldest of our faiths…and firmly telling everyone that your focus is not on V’Dan but on the Alliance as a whole, leaving me to lead my people as I see fit.”
Ia arched one of her own brows, shifting her tone to a dry, pointed one. “If you do stray off the right path, I’ll send round a note to guide you back onto it, Your Majesty. I am the Prophet, and I would appreciate it if I had at least some cooperation from you and your people in our mutual war effort. But you can take comfort in the fact I foresee no immediate need to actually guide you. You do have good instincts and excellent advisors, and you don’t hesitate to make use of them.”
His Eternal Majesty arched one imperial brow at her hubris, and the two soldiers in the room, the Grand General and the junior officer, both flushed. Ki’en-qua, however, was the one who addressed Ia, and not the ruler of an interstellar empire. “I see you have excellent instincts yourself, knowing exactly which line to tread between lowly foreign soldier and living religious icon, without either falling short or overreaching the range of authority for either.”
Her smile warmed into something more rueful than amused. Hunching forward, Ia confided, “Well, I am double-checking the timestreams even as we speak, to make sure what I say to you doesn’t negatively affect the outcome of this meeting.”
He laughed, at that. Emperor, soldier, and man, he laughed. Relaxing, Ia sat back, still smiling. So did he. The tension in the room eased as they shared a moment of amused understanding
The Shield of Thirty-Seven Worlds—which had at one point been thirty-eight, before Sanctuary had successfully petitioned for full independence around the time of her birth—finally sighed and folded his arms across his medal-strewn chest. “If only I could keep you around…I find your forthrightness and honesty refreshing, Prophet. More than that, I think it’s your utter lack of fear in my presence. I have zero power over you…or do I?”
“No, Your Majesty, you do not,” she confirmed. “But our goals are in common alignment. I value the lives of each of your citizens as much as you yourself do—and I say to you, having the full span of Time at my fingertips, you will be remembered as one of the great emperors. You will have to work hard to survive, and you will suffer as you watch your worlds and your people being attacked again and again and again, but you should survive a good long time, and your people will once again thrive. If we both put our best efforts into this war, you’ll have my Prophetic Stamp on that.”
“I’ve heard reports on your ship’s exceptionally good timing and combat prowess,” he admitted dryly. “Not to mention nigh-unbelievable reports about your vessel’s main weapon. Any chance that technology will be shared with the rest of the Alliance, as the Terrans once shared your hyperspace gifts?”
“None, Your Majesty. The overshoot range on that main cannon is too dangerous for a nonprecognitive to wield, and I am the only one sufficiently skilled in predicting its full path,” Ia said.
“A pity. Right. How much do you speak for your military?” he asked next, sitting forward again. “What authority do you have in brokering deals?”
“Technically, I have carte blanche from the hands of the Admiral-General herself,” Ia admitted.
He wasn’t stupid. “Technically, I could have you shot and killed for threatening to manipulate the V’Dan government with your little quip about steering my leadership in the right direction. How much practical authority do you have?”
She didn’t take offense at the threat, though she did wrinkle her nose. “Not much at the moment, Your Majesty. At some point in the future, if all goes well, I’ll have at least a little more authority, but not right now. I can, however, convey suggestions from the V’Dan High Command to the Terran Command Staff and discuss their value with my superiors as a registered military precog. That does carry some weight, but it does not carry any guarantees at t
his time.”
“That’ll do. Grand General,” Emperor Ki’en-qua stated, acknowledging the other man’s presence. The general straightened to Attention. “Arrange with Ship’s Captain Ia to have V’Dan High Command security clearance, and ensure that she has the cyphering equipment to access our military communications—I trust that you will not abuse it, of course, Captain. I also trust that, should I have need of your temporal counsel, Prophet,” he stressed, returning his attention to the red-clad woman across from him, “that you will give it when I request it?”
“If I can give it, I certainly will, Eternity, for I love your people as much as I love my own,” Ia said, dipping her head. She unbuttoned her left sleeve and flipped open the lid of her arm unit. The general pulled a datachip out of his pocket, already prepared to fulfill the Emperor’s order. “…I do thank you for the ciphers. That will greatly speed up the timely delivery of my missives for your people. For those that aren’t directly related to the military and the war effort, the Afaso Order has agreed to act as my delivery agents.”
“An excellent choice. They are both honorable and politically neutral.” The Emperor paused, watching her slot the chip into her arm unit, then sighed. “Is there anything else we should discuss? As much as I wish to keep you here for hours, answering my questions about the war, the future, even the past…Sh’nai legend describes you as a woman who lacks the time to spare for trivial things.”
“Those legends are unfortunately rather accurate,” Ia admitted, probing the timestreams. The chip she had given to the general the day before already contained a personal cipher and hyperrelay frequency for him to contact her ship. Nothing had changed between then and now, since this was the majority chance she had foreseen. “No…I think that’s about it for now.
