by B. V. Larson
Battle Fleet 921 was like our local police force. Sure, sometimes they bothered us, or they might seem overbearing, but to most folks, the concept of living without any protection at all from the wilds of the frontier… well, that was downright scary.
“What was the fighting all about this time, sir?” I asked.
“The same thing that usually ignites such fires. The Empire has always been plagued by revolts and civil wars. Recently, however, we reached a crisis state. The Senate hasn’t met for years. The representative Galactics each vie for supremacy. You see, we have a critical problem.”
“What’s that, sir?” I asked, sincerely fascinated. I’d already started recording his explanation with my tapper, but I adjusted the microphone pick-up just to be sure. Central would want this someday—if I was ever lucky enough to get home.
“We are an empire without an Emperor. Isn’t that obvious?”
“Uh… yes, I guess it is.”
Thinking about it, I found it hard to believe I’d never really thought about who the Emperor was before. Ever since my birth and education, we’d been told about the distant, infinitely superior Galactics. We’d been told we were part of an Empire, a grand community made up of billions of stars and peoples—but no one had ever shown us who was at the top.
To think that maybe nobody was—the thought was disturbing.
“An Empire needs an Emperor, McGill!” Sateekas boomed at me. “They call me old-fashioned for having such thoughts. They urge me to update my body scans and go through a recycle to be young again—but I suspect them. You see, far too many officers I’ve known have done just that and returned with gaps in their memories. I’m not willing to go through with that process—not until there’s no other choice.”
Suddenly, old Sateekas had my sympathies. Maybe he had problems just as big as mine—or bigger—to keep him awake at night.
“What’s the civil war about then, sir?”
“Succession, of course,” he said. “Every major species is at the throats of the rest. Sometimes, one faction or another gets an upper hand, but then they’re ganged up upon and cast back down. Often, periods of peace reign when a truce is signed—but always, eventually, the peace is broken again. We need an Emperor!”
He seemed almost to be talking to himself at this point.
“Um… sir? You mentioned something about my existence, earlier?”
“Yes, of course. A deal has been struck with these irritating creatures from Rigel. They clearly have more star systems than Earth has, and they’re about to destroy your outpost on this planet with their superior forces. There’s no easy way to put it: Earth is about to lose her status as my local enforcement species in the province.”
I rolled that one over and over in my mind for a moment.
“What, uh, happens to an enforcer species that’s been replaced, sir?”
“They’re expunged, of course.”
“Of course… but sir, what if we win? What if we destroy these crap-eating bears?”
Sateekas let his limbs rise and then flop down again. Was that a shrug? Something like it, I suspected.
“Then you may continue in your present capacity. I must warn you, however, the odds are very long indeed. The Nairbs have confided in me that you’ve got less than a one percent chance of weathering the combined assault that they’re planning right now.”
“One percent?” I asked excitedly. “So… you’re saying there’s a chance, right?”
“A very, very slim one.”
“Hot damn! Well, I really do love chatting up here with you, Grand Admiral, but—”
“Governor,” he corrected.
“Right,” I said, but I carefully avoided using the term anyway. “But I really do need to get back down to the planet. I wouldn’t want to miss all the fighting.”
“Impressive…” he said. “The bloodthirsty nature of your race never ceases to amaze. By all means, you must depart to slaughter your opponents!”
Without another word, I rushed to the tiny patrol ship, boarded her, and flew back toward Storm World.
The cloud-cover obscured ninety-plus percent of the surface. Unlike Earth, Storm World had a turbulent atmosphere most of the time. I plunged into those misty shrouds and broke out into a lower level of grayness. Soon, the mists transformed into silver sheets of lashing rain.
At high speeds, rain doesn’t bead up on your windscreen. Instead, it forms a continuous sheet, a thin film that spreads and slips away quickly.
The ship banked on auto-pilot and homed in on Fort Beta’s signal. Within minutes, I was landing on the ground and surrounded by troops.
When I walked out onto the gangplank, I waved like I was surrounded by adoring fans. Those legionnaires in the crowd who knew me lowered their rifles and shook their heads in disgust.
“Take me to Armel!” I shouted with my hands on my hips. “I’ve got some important news for him!”
Instead, they arrested me and threw me into the brig. That was some kind of shitty welcome for a returning hero.
-70-
When I woke up the next morning, there were base alert sirens going off. A few troops rushed by my cell in the brig. They were arming up, shrugging into their gear.
“Hmm…” I said, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “Hey Santos… what’s up?”
One of the specialists stopped. His name was Bob Santos, and he knew me, but not well.
“McGill?” he asked, belting on an extra power-pack for his snap-rifle. “What are you doing in there, Centurion?”
“Just catching up on some beauty sleep. What’s happening Bob? My tapper is blocked.”
It was standard procedure to disconnect tappers from the local net when you were incarcerated. Otherwise, prison wouldn’t mean much to most folks.
“The Wur are on the march, sir—but that’s not the bad news.”
“Don’t keep me in suspense!”
He looked around, as if he was passing on a rumor he’d been told to keep to himself. “They say the Rigel troops—those little bear guys—are marching with them.”
I nodded, not too surprised. “Damn… I’d kind of hoped they’d take a few more days to get their alliance operating.”
Santos stared at me. “You knew this was coming?”
Shrugging, I looked past him at the view screens. The guards had cameras operating inside and outside the bunker. Outside, I could see formations of troops gathering and organizing.
Shaking his head, the specialist ran off.
About an hour passed. Bored, I kept expecting the battle to kick into gear, but despite all the prep-work it hadn’t broken loose yet.
The sky did stop raining for once. A rare shaft of sunlight touched down in the camp. Shining brilliantly through a thousand shimmering drops of water, it looked like a miracle.
“McGill!” someone whispered.
I looked around, but there was no one there. The lone guard was focused on the view screens. Lots of people were checking out the sunlight. They looked like kids playing in the first snows.
“Where’ve you been, Cooper?” I asked quietly.
“Here and there. I’m a ghost, remember?”
“What do you want? A laugh?”
“No sir, I’m breaking you out.”
As he said these words, the door clicked open and slid away.
“What the hell?” the guard demanded, standing and hitching up his belt. “What are you up to, McGill?”
I backed away from the bars, throwing my hands up. “Nothing! Maybe it’s a power problem.”
Suspicious, the guard took out his pistol and approached me cautiously. He reached the door and—
Wham! He went down.
“You hit him kind of hard, Cooper,” I commented.
“He’s a big boy.”
Accepting the invitation, I stepped out of the cell and looked around.
“Now what?” I asked. “You realize they’re going to blame me for this, right?”
“I’m kind
of counting on that, sir.”
“Great…”
“Centurion, if you’d prefer to step back in there and close the door—well, it’s up to you.”
I thought about that. I seriously did.
The reason I wasn’t escaping was because it seemed pointless. Without an answer to one simple question, I wasn’t going to leave my cell.
“What am I going to be able to do alone that could change the doomed battle that’s coming?” I asked.
“It’s up to you, sir. I’m taking off to man the walls.
“Sure you are…” I said, and I frowned at the open cell door. Finally, I figured I had an answer to the question I’d asked myself.
“I’m going to talk to Armel,” I said. “I know what’s coming. I know what the stakes are. He needs that information.”
There was no response.
“You still here, Cooper?”
There was nothing but sirens and pounding feet outside. Soon, there would be the crack of gunfire, along with the snap and whine of the star-falls launching plasma into the forest toward the approaching enemy.
Grunting unhappily, I left my cell and headed to the stairs. The big storm doors at the top of the stairway swung open the moment I put my foot on the bottom step.
Bright sunlight glowed down into the brig. It made me squint, as my eyes weren’t used to it.
“McGill?” asked a familiar voice.
Armel sighed. He had two heavy troopers with him.
“Hello Tribune, sir,” I said brightly “This is a quite a coincidence. I was just coming to talk to you in person.”
Armel came down the steps haltingly. He looked at every shadow with a stern, wary frown. “Have you murdered another of my guards?”
“Uh… I don’t think he’s dead. He had an accident. It was the damnedest thing, sir.”
“Of course he did... What did you want to tell me?”
I went ahead and spilled my guts then. I told him almost everything. All about meeting with Sateekas, and the deals Claver had made with Rigel.
“Why didn’t you tell Sateekas about the formula?” he asked. “Don’t you think he’d have been enraged by Claver’s actions and sympathetic with yours?”
“That’s a good point, sir—but you’re absolutely wrong. The Mogwa don’t think like that. They still tend to think of humans as a single group. If I’d told him Claver had threatened billions of Mogwa citizens, well… he’d blame every human that ever drew breath for the crime.”
“Hmm… so the individual crime of slaying Xlur—that was more palatable?”
“Normally, it wouldn’t have been. But Sateekas told me it helped him survive by getting him out of the navy right when he needed an out. He doesn’t like being a governor, but it’s better than being a dead admiral commanding a dead fleet.”
Armel gazed at me with squinched-tight eyes. People did that when they wanted to shut out an image they were viewing. In this case, the offensive image was my face.
“I’m not sure what to believe…” he said at last.
“Well sir, I can help you on that front. I’m the most honest, trustworthy, and downright unassuming—”
I’d been about to give him the full Boy Scout list, but another figure arrived at the top of the steps.
We all squinted up into the unexpected glare of sunlight. There, at the top of the stairs, was Claver.
He descended one step at a time, joining us at the bottom.
“Is this the man you left on Governor Sateekas’ ship, awaiting torment and execution?” Armel asked me.
“Uh…” I said, honestly dumbfounded.
“Aw now,” Claver said, “don’t torture this farm-boy. He’s not used to brain-twisters like this.”
Armel laughed. “Yes… I admit that I’m puzzled as well. Exactly how did you escape the Mogwa?”
Claver shrugged. “A man has to have a few secrets. You won’t deny me that, will you, Tribune?”
He gave him a significant glance, and Armel cleared his throat. “Very well. You asked to come here and speak with McGill. By all means, speak!”
“It might be better if he were back in his cage.”
Armel considered it, but he shook his head. “No. I will need him on the wall tops in ten minutes. All my troops will fight today—no matter their criminal status. I have to go now and marshal our defenses.”
He left, but he didn’t leave Claver and I alone. He assigned the two heavy troopers as bodyguards to Claver, but they didn’t look happy about it.
“How’d you get out, Claver?” I asked.
“I didn’t, you fool. I’m a different Claver.”
“Ah…” I said, catching on. “So they offed you that quick, huh? I’m surprised. I would have expected old Sateekas to take his time killing a fiend like you.”
Claver glared at me. “What’d you tell him exactly? What crime did you hang on my neck?”
“Don’t you remember? Well, maybe you were out by then. I told him you killed Xlur.”
Claver looked truly surprised.
“And he bought that?”
“Nope,” I said, shaking my head. “But he liked the story, so he decided to go with it.”
Claver took a few halting steps down into the brig. He stared past me, his eyes darting as if thinking fast.
“Uh…” I said. “What kind of evil is going on inside that big brain of yours?”
“This is going to be a difficult play—mostly due to your ham-handed con job.”
That made me blink in surprise. “Ham-handed? I thought it was rather neatly done. After all, it worked, didn’t it?”
“Listen McGill, do you understand the stakes here?”
“Um, yeah… Sateekas said something about us losing our status as local enforcers.”
“That’s right. The Mogwa have gone sweet on Rigel. These bears are dynamite fighters, and Sateekas knows we’re half-assed at best.”
“Well, if that’s all you wanted to say…” I began. “I think I need to be getting to the walls. This fort could fall.”
As I stepped past him, he did a dangerous thing. He reached out and gripped my arm.
I frowned down at him. “I’ve killed for less.”
“I know it—but hold on. Hear me out. I’m not Claver—not the one you know. That other Claver Prime, he’s in the Mogwa ship getting eviscerated.”
“Uh… you duplicated yourself? That’s a Galactic crime right there.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m well-aware. But the situation is… complex. I’m not in complete agreement with all my brothers, see.”
All of a sudden, I did see. This Claver was the renegade. The man who the others I’d met had long hinted about.
“Seriously?” I asked. “You’re a different breed of Claver? Have I met you before?”
“Yes. Most recently, I came to tell you about the deal with your daughter.”
“That was you, huh? I killed you.”
He shrugged. “It happens. I have some resources—but I’m not as invincible as the primary Claver line. In fact, I’m hunted by them.”
“Why are you telling me all this now?”
“Because you outted me. I listen to the traffic between Clavers—they have their own private com system—and they’re talking about a rebel in their midst. A mole.”
“This is really something,” I said, scratching my head. “When did it all start? This deviation in your line of clones, I mean?”
“Remember the man who you exiled among the Wur back on Death World?”
“That guy? Wow, that’s waaay back.”
“Sure is. That was me. It was sometime after that, when I wandered in the forest of the Wur, that I deviated from my brothers. We had just established our enclave—our own colony. But I had a difference of opinion from the rest. Maybe it was those long lonely months I spent in those empty Wur forests. Or maybe it was the mind-bending toxins the Wur Nexus plants inject into your brain when they talk to you. I don’t know…”
He looked haunted, and that alone intrigued me. Claver had never seemed like an introspective man to me.
“What’s your problem with the rest of them—or their problem with you?”
Claver hesitated. “I’ve got a flaw. I need companionship. Women, specifically. I wanted to bring women to our colony world. The rest of the Clavers disagreed, of course. You see, the firm rule of the colony is that every citizen must be genetically related to the original Claver. That way, we reasoned, we could stay in agreement. It gave us all unity.”
I thought that one over, and it was weird, but I could see it.
“So… they didn’t want you to import women. Didn’t want children, either? Is that it?”
“Exactly. If we introduced non-clones, they could only vary from our thinking, from our goals, from our commitment to self-sacrifice. I mean, any given Claver knows he can go on a mission, die, and come back whole again. But what if we had kids? Would the kids follow those rules? It seemed doubtful.”
“Yeah… That’s really weird…” A thought occurred to me then. “Hey!” I shouted, and I slapped his chest with the back of my hand.
This made the two heavy troopers step from foot-to-foot anxiously. They glowered at both of us, trying to decide if Claver had been attacked or not.
Ignoring them, I grinned. “You’re the dirty little bastard who cloned up a lady-Claver, aren’t you?”
He pursed his lips and looked troubled.
I laughed hard. “You old goat, you!”
“Creating a female was within the rules we’d laid out,” he said stubbornly. “A female Claver was just a variation of all Clavers.”
“Sure, sure, sure,” I said. “You discovered a whole new form of masturbation! You should feel proud! In fact, you’ve given a whole new deep meaning to the phrase: Go F yourself!”
“Yeah, yeah, thanks, McGill.” He looked dejected. “Ridicule, rejection. I’m used to it. They didn’t accept Abigail. They banished her. After that, they discovered my engrams had deviated too far from the rest—and they took steps to erase me as well.”
“Seems like that didn’t take.”
“No, but I can’t go back to them. I’m an outcast now. So, don’t kill me without good cause, McGill. I’m not like my brothers. I can’t pop up in a thousand places, like one more rabbit escaping the warren.”
