by Paul Anlee
Hodge’s smartly dressed fellow Councillor, Debbie Cutter, pushed through the main entrance and paused to let her eyes adjust. She spotted Hodge’s beckoning hand and joined him at his booth against the far wall.
Cutter was an American; at least she used to be when America still existed. She’d been among the elite of the elite at one of the country’s largest brokerage firms, one that had their hands in everything: banking, insurance, arbitrage, treasuries, currencies, commodities, private equities, and public companies. She’d mastered the art of convincing powerful players and industry lobbyists to keep governments in line. Through years of grueling dedication and razor-sharp insight, she’d climbed the ranks until she was considered a preeminent contender for successor to the CEO.
Then the planet was destroyed.
Luckily for Debbie Cutter, she was also a member of the right faith at the right time. In truth, she belonged to a number of denominations. Most were Christian, but she’d been smart enough to diversify her religious affiliations as much as her investments. She’d sensed the growing shift in power over the preceding decade, and adjusted her contributions to the various faiths accordingly. At some point they became—some might claim, presciently—larger than her political donations. “Getting on the right side with God” apparently required greasing the skids of the right spiritual leaders.
An ancient and honored tradition—she reasoned.
When word came down that there was to be an “exceptional service” of the YTG Church, and all members were encouraged to attend if they wanted to find ultimate salvation, Debbie Cutter bumped her normal monthly Catholic mass attendance for a visit to the Crystal Cathedral. She’d missed an earlier service when Reverend LaMontagne promoted Alum as his successor to lead the Church. It had been an unfortunate slip in judgement on her part, and she was determined not to repeat the mistake.
Unexpectedly, but happily, her loyalty to the Church earned her extraction from Earth to the Vesta colonies and, in recognition of her expertise and generous support over the years, eventually secured her a seat on the newly formed Governing Council.
Debbie nursed a short, neat scotch while Nigel stared at the door.
“Are we expecting someone else?” she asked after a minute of studying the unfamiliar brownish liquid.
“Eh? Oh. No, just us.”
“Then, what do you want, Nigel? And why are we meeting in this dump again?” She glanced over at Hiram polishing the bar and lifted her glass. “No offence.”
“As long as he’s paying, you can say anything you want,” the owner said. “It is a free country, ain’t it?” He immediately realized the absurdity of what he’d said and turned his gaze to the street outside as if expecting a new customer to enter.
Debbie returned her attention to Nigel. “Well?”
“We’re meeting so we can get our plans sorted out. And we’re meeting here because it’s one of the few places I trust is still secure.”
Debbie laughed. “Oh, really, Nigel. Secure? Do we need to be secure now?”
Nigel shuffled nervously in his seat. “I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t like the way things went.”
“Are you referring to Alum’s ‘declaration of war’ or the Council’s attempt at ‘appeasement’?”
“That’s a good way to put it: Declaration of War. He really has declared war on our class, hasn’t he? At any rate, I meant both. Mainly, the Council. I truly thought they’d realize how his actions are going to affect us.”
“Well you can’t expect blindly obedient sheep to suddenly grow a pair now, can you?”
Hodge blinked at the oddly mixed metaphor. These Americans—he thought. Can one ever hope to understand them? He sipped his drink.
“True, I shouldn’t be surprised. They were overjoyed at the prospect of Alum as their President.”
“There’s no way to lose with him as the candidate.”
Nigel leaned forward, and set his glass down hard. “It’s not all about winning, you know. Why do you Americans persist in viewing politics as a team sport?” he glowered.
“Isn’t it?”
“Well, certainly it’s rough and tumble. All’s fair and all that, you know. But as for policy, now that is something different.”
“Okay, I may not be a wonk but even I know policy is flexible. It can be adjusted once victory is achieved.”
“True. But with victory assured, shouldn’t the Council be looking a little more closely at his specific proposals? There’s no way to make this a close race. Shouldn’t we be a little concerned about where our glorious leader will be leading us?”
“So which policy do you not like?” Debbie shot back. “The minimum wage, the labor policy, the socialistic support of motherhood, or the control of money and credit?” She took another sip and sat back, waiting for Hodge’s reply. A devilish glint sparkled in her eyes.
Nigel’s jaw worked at imaginary gristle until he caught the glint of humor in her eyes, and they broke into laughter. He raised his glass to her and finished the contents with a single swallow. He motioned for Hiram to bring the bottle over to the table.
“Alright, you got me. It’s all an enormous mess, isn’t it?” Nigel said.
“It’s a disaster,” Debbie agreed.
Nigel powered on. “Centralized control of the economy. It’s what the conspiracy theorists have been harping on about for decades, the elite controlling the world.”
Debbie sighed. “What can we do? The man is all powerful.”
“We still have Jackson and Lindon,” Nigel suggested.
“Counting us, that’s four of eighteen.”
“Plus the three from the old Administration.”
“What, Strang and his crew? Do you think they’d join us in opposing Alum?”
“I expect they’re planning to form a separate party,” Nigel replied. “He and his friends aspire to form the Official Opposition. But I know Strang. He’ll do everything strictly on the up-and-up and with the utmost of integrity. He does not like intrigue.”
“Well, we might count on them for some support, no?”
“Still not enough votes. Anyway, who could we possibly convince to run for President against Alum?”
“Maybe we can talk to Alum, and try to convince him of the foolishness of his proposals.”
“Are you mad? Have you seen his draft of the Constitution?” the man asked.
Debbie nodded. “I have. It’s scary.”
“Bloody right. No term limit, the ability to fire the House, and call for new elections whenever he wants.”
“And his vote counts for forty percent of the House. I know. It would take a revolt to outvote any of his proposed legislation.”
“Not likely with this lot.”
“No, not likely at all.”
They stared at their drinks, searching for inspiration.
“Should we throw our weight in with the old Administration crowd?” Debbie finally asked.
“I’m not ready to go quite that far.”
“Well, what do you propose we do, then?”
“We’ve only had the one Council meeting since Alum’s surprise announcements. Why don’t see what happens once the excitement dies down?”
“..and the members have a chance to study his proposals in depth?”
“Exactly. Perhaps a well-placed suggestion, a hint of how the ‘Alum economy’ would actually play out.”
“Do you think that would be enough to tip the scale?”
Nigel frowned. “I don’t know. We may have to help it along.”
“How would we do that?”
“We’d need to mount our own counter-campaign to discredit his ideas.”
Debbie thrummed her fingers along the side of her glass. “Not the most exciting way to rouse the masses, is it?”
“Can our people, I don’t know, slow things down a bit? Make implementation of his plan…problematic?”
“Passive obstruction? Accidental incompetence? That wouldn’t be hard. Have you seen th
e morons they’ve got working for me?”
He sighed in commiseration. “I must admit, I’ve been less than impressed with most of my department as well. If all we do is help them to be more confused rather than less, that could play well for us.”
“We’ll have to be careful. I don’t want any of this landing back on me.”
“I’m sure you have more than adequate experience in dodging, let’s say, unfortunate collateral damage.”
“They can’t prove a thing,” Debbie said.
“They never can,” Nigel replied. He hoisted his glass for another toast.
23
“Darak! Ontro! You’re back! how wonderful.” Crissea’s radiant smile greeted the two men popping into existence at the edge of her garden abode.
Stralasi bit back a snarky comment to Darak. Why couldn’t we have arrived this way the first time?—he wondered. But Crissea’s mesmerizing green eyes, billowing silky pantsuit, and long blonde locks left no room for bitterness. He gave Darak a single glance and rushed forward to receive the warm welcome.
Between visiting Darak’s lost soltron detectors and departing for the other side of the Realm, the Good Brother had spent many pleasant hours with the enchanting woman from Eso-La. They’d soon become fast friends, with potential for something more developing.
They clasped arms and soaked up one another’s presence. Crissea would have hugged the Brother were it not for her sensitivity to his shyness. Instead, they stared and grinned at each other like bashful adolescents.
Darak cleared his throat.
Crissea released Stralasi from her spell and directed a warm bow of respect to Darak.
“Oh,” she said, on reading his expression. “You’re not here just to visit, are you? Tell me what happened.”
“Could we link in the Coordina for this?” Darak asked. “I think it best they hear about our recent adventures, and then I have a request to make of them.”
Crissea closed her eyes a few seconds while she consulted with the ringworld representatives. “It will take a few hours for everyone to be freed of their current responsibilities. If you’d like, we can meet in one of the Amphi. The nearest one’s a short tube ride away.”
“I need a few minutes to prepare for the meeting. Why don’t you two go for a walk while I verify some data at the soltron detectors? Call for me when everyone’s ready. I’ll come find you and we can go to the Amphi together.”
Crissea opened her mouth to protest about how much time he’d need to travel to the detectors and back. Then she realized who stood before her. “Sometimes I wonder if we made the right decision, not adopting the starstep technologies.” She laughed and waved her hand, as if brushing away a fly. “Then again, who’s ever in that much of a hurry?”
Darak chuckled. “I know. After twenty million years away, everything does seem to be happening rather quickly, doesn’t it?”
“You’ve only been gone some days, this time.”
“And yet so much has happened in that short period. I fear the next little while may feel more rushed.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Crissea replied. She clasped her hands tightly against her chest, and pinned her lower lip beneath a row of perfectly even, white teeth.
Stralasi watched the shape of her lips with particular interest. “Yes,” he said. “We have seen so many frightening things, stupendously frightening things, these past few days that I’m not even sure where to start. We couldn’t find the Eater, and Darak is being unnecessarily mysterious about it all, and….”
“I think we should wait until everyone’s linked in,” Darak suggested.
Crissea was burning with curiosity and trepidation, but she mustered a resigned smile and linked her arm in Stralasi’s.
“Very well. Why don’t you run off to your errands? Ontro and I will go for a stroll. I’ll call when we’re ready.”
Darak noted how she placed her hand possessively on Stralasi’s arm. He would never have imagined them as a couple. He shook his head, and was gone.
Stralasi and Crissea regarded the empty spot where the impatient traveller had stood fidgeting a second earlier. They exhaled in synchrony.
“Come,” Crissea said. “My favorite pond isn’t far from here.” She led him cheerfully toward a clearing between the trees.
Stralasi had never been happier. Not even his acceptance into the Alumit, a proud but expected moment, had touched him like this.
Strolling in the filtered light of the aspen trees with Crissea hanging on his arm, listening to leaves trembling in the gentle breeze, and laughing in delight as she pointed out the birds and insects of the forest, this was his idea of Heaven. If Alum could make a universe like this, where he and Crissea could walk arm-in-arm together forever, Stralasi would do everything in his power to bring that place into being.
After a while, the trees grew a little thinner and the forest opened onto a small, serene lake, barely more than a pond. It took his breath away. They walked over to the grassy shoreline. Off to their right, the bank was lined with reeds that waded several meters into the water. Ducks swam in and among the graceful stalks, and swallows danced above the water, culling the flying insect population.
A beaver dam protruded from the water in the middle of the lake. The water was so clear Stralasi could trace the structure below the surface a little way before it disappeared. One of the creatures stood atop the mound of sticks, happily munching on something. Closer to shore, brightly colored fish explored the shallow water near a burbling feeder stream.
The couple found a large smooth rock at the water’s edge and sat down. They admired the scene in silence until one of the ducks raised noisy objection to another that was drifting toward its ducklings.
“What’s he like?” Crissea asked.
“Who? Darak?” Stralasi responded, buying time to collect his thoughts.
Crissea nodded. “You’ve spent more time with him recently than anyone in the universe. What was that like?”
Stralasi struggled to make sense of his travel partner and their adventures since leaving Gargus 718.5. Except, it wasn’t ‘leaving’ so much as being led away under false pretenses—he reminded himself.
“You know, when I first met him, I thought he was an Emissary from Alum, and then, a Shard. When he fought the Angel Mika in the dessert outside Alumston, I became convinced I’d been fooled by a demon.”
“No!” Crissea laughed.
“Oh, if you’d only seen him! He brought down two Securitors without lifting a finger, and he brushed Lord Mika aside like it was nothing. Besides Alum himself, who else could have done that?”
Crissea was amused, but offered no reply.
“And that’s not all. Just a few days ago, I watched him take on an entire Wing of Angels in a battle out in space.”
“A whole Wing? How could he survive that?”
“Truthfully, I don’t really know; I couldn’t see very well. Most of it happened kilometers away in deep space.”
Her eyes widened. “You were there?”
“Indeed,” the monk replied. “Well, more or less.”
She looked confused.
“As Darak explained it to me, most of my body was outside this universe except my eyes, my retinas in any case, which he kept in this universe so I could watch.” The very thought of it still made him squeamish, and he shook his head to help erase the image from his mind.
“The Angels trapped us with some kind of ‘jump blockers’ so we couldn’t shift away. Darak didn’t want to fight but they forced the issue. And we won. Well, he won.”
Stralasi stared out across the pond. “And then the tri-star exploded and billions, hundreds of billions, of people died.”
“What?”
He returned his gaze to Crissea. She was horrified.
“I’ll let him tell you about that part. I can’t bear to think of it, nor of the evil required to do such a thing.”
“Alum,” Crissea said. It was not a question.
&n
bsp; Stralasi shrugged and sighed. “Darak can be infuriating, sometimes,” he continued. “His arrogance knows no bounds. Yet he’s also shown endless patience and kindness to the common people…and to me as well.
“I’ve seen his fierceness in battle, his courage against unbelievable opposition. I can’t decide if he simply knows everything about everything, or if he’s blessed with God-like powers.”
“From what I’ve heard,” Crissea replied, “a bit of both.”
“Mmm. You could be right. He’s still a mystery to me, and I have no more idea now why he chose me for this journey than I did at the start.”
Crissea took Stralasi’s hand in hers and looked directly into his eyes.
“Oh, Ontro. Don’t you see? He needed someone to see what he doesn’t, and to be what he’s not.”
“Which would be, what? Quivering? Powerless and naïve?” Stralasi grimaced. He plucked a twig off the stone and threw it into the water.
“No, silly,” Crissea chided him, but with a gentle smile. “Human. Completely and utterly human.
“Before Darak became a god, he was human, too. He could’ve been content, just lived his life, and ruled his own universe or almost any part of this one. But he chose a different path. I think he fears forgetting what it means to be simply human, and he wants a human judgement of the Living God’s plans for us. He can no longer do that, himself.”
“Hmph. And to represent humanity, he chose…me?”
Crissea pulled Stralasi’s hand closer to her. “Not just you. But he knows that you are kind and brave, and wise, and…resilient.”
“Resilient?”
“Absolutely. You are a worthy representative. I’ve watched you deal with new wonders thrown at you by the minute. Things that would’ve made most men curl up in a fetal ball of denial. You struggle, it’s true. But you think. You accept. You integrate the new with the old. I’ve seen you stand steadfast against Darak, a being you know to be as powerful as a god. Few men would do that. I think he chose wisely.”
Stralasi stared at her, a lump in his throat. Did she really see him that way? It was too much to hope for. Then, she did something that only ever happened in his dreams. She leaned in and kissed him.
