The Last Immortal : Book One of Seeds of a Fallen Empire

by Anne Spackman

I woke up, and oblivion faded. The long sleep was over. Memory and my sense of identity returned. We were near the Rigell system at last.

  Again I went through the stages: shock, incredulity, despair. Most of all loneliness and grief at having lost them.

  I remembered the screams of the afflicted explorers through their long, lingering death. I remembered Kiel’s death, and the moment when I fell prey to the vapor. I lay for many tendays, with veins like ice so cold it felt like burning, my mind wrapped in delirium, my body disconnected from reality. I remember my own certainty that I was going to die—and die horribly.

  The poison of the anti-serum spread from the ninth laboratory. The ship’s automatic self-preservation mechanism flushed out the poisoned atmosphere from the unsealed portions of the ship Selesta. But not before the anti-serum had taken Hinev’s immortals.

  I woke from near-death, cold and alone. Thereafter, I was forced to live in a silent world.

  Oblivion had been kind, allowing me to forget. I had been asleep for more than five hundred years. But the reality of what had happened was fresh as yesterday.

  I knew that Kiel, Kellar, and Gerryls were tampering with Hinev’s dangerous solutions—the chemicals and biological agents he had used to perfect his serum of immortality. In the wrong proportions, they could be lethal to ordinary life forms. No one had thought much of what they were doing. They were trying to save the last of our race—mortals we had saved from certain doom in the supernova of Valeria, our star, by trying to re-create his elixir of eternal life.

  On that day we discovered that Hinev’s serum could be also lethal to immortals.

  Immortals who had been together for countless lifetimes—more than two hundred thousand years.

  In the tendays that followed, all but one of the immortals perished.

  I could not resurrect my fallen comrades. Hinev’s serum of immortality had kept us all alive for aeons, but the anti-serum, accidentally set loose upon the ship, had killed nearly everything in its path. Nothing in the universe—not even a serum of immortality—could bring a person back to life from the dead.

  I buried the dead explorers in the deepest part of the ship.

  I left for the oxygenated section of the ship, alone, venting questions to the unknown.

  The emptiness of the lower levels was smothering. There was nothing else living in the areas near the ninth laboratory that had been exposed to the cosmic void in order to flush out the anti-serum. I felt the loss of air pressure in my lungs. Immortality alone saved my life. Every moment in that void was agonizing, even though it had no power to kill me.

  I asked the computer telepathically for directions to the nearest safe place within the ship—I found out that the crew quarters and lyra forest had been spared the anti-serum, so I headed there.

  After the other explorers died, I was afraid that isolation and the loss of air pressure in my lungs would drive me to insanity. I was already beginning to feel signs of strange behavior. Would I go mad with the multi-personality effect, as Hinev had? I doubted it—the worst was over already. But I wondered, were all the memories of the other explorers, memories freed by their deaths, still lingering in the ship, still trying to invade my mind?

  Only those dearest to my soul, those whom I had loved, could I manage to carry with me, as part of me. My mind had a way of telepathically rejecting those unpleasant memories and those men’s souls that were the most difficult for me to handle in my own mind, in a manner of self-preservation. Gradually I fought off forever those invading memories which I couldn’t tolerate.

  We Immortals held the artificial memories of other beings in our minds. Telepathy, both superficial and deep, was one of the gifts Hinev’s serum had given us. But the artificial memories of a deep connection were dangerous—any powerful personality we had encountered had the potential to corrupt our minds, if we let the other, alien personality into our thoughts. If we let it take root, it could take over our minds. That was why, only a few years after our metamorphosis, we had used only the rudest telepathy in our dealings with other living beings.

  After many unguarded violations of the beings around him, our creator Fynals Hinev had discovered that the invaded memories of other beings were trapped in his own mind forever. And they had a power—a power to take hold of him. He had fought a multi-personality effect. It was, quite literally, the invaded souls of other beings, the personalities of creatures long since dead, still dwelling within his soul. All of Hinev’s explorers had fought the multi-personality effect at some time or another. But the rest of us were far more successful at it than Hinev. I had long since ceased to suffer any fear on this account, but at times I remembered fending off the invasion of my soul with a shiver of fear.

  For a while, I was afraid—were the souls of my comrades lingering like ghosts in the depths of the ship? The strangeness of it all was that they might very well have been. Our souls had been forever altered by the serum, as had our bodies. There was no knowing what the anti-serum had really done to the Immortals. Even though their bodies were dead.

  That was why I decided to undergo the deep cryogenic sleep.

  In my loneliness, I was thankful for the main computer. Its invasive presence kept me from complete isolation. But I was afraid—and coping with grief. I craved the oblivion of a good night’s sleep and longer. I asked the computer to put me into a suspended animation. And to take us to the Rigell system, where the last of our race still existed.

  You might wonder how it was possible for me to converse with a computer. The computer of Selesta was the most advanced computer ever to have been built. Long before my time, our people had advanced computer technology to the level that human and mechanical beings were interlinked.

  Our computers could program areas of the human mind. Each person on our planet had computerized nano-implants in his brain that allowed him a wondrous existence, the likes of which no primitive world could imagine. And long before my time, our greatest achievement had been realized: the computers were able to embody a human mind, to absorb pieces of thought from a living being. Our computers could think. They could even feel. They were almost alive.

  We had human-roids, artificial humans, capable of near-human behavior. You could hardly tell them from human beings. We had starships that were able to receive the brain waves and information our minds sent to their receptors by telepathy—and they could communicate to us the same way.

  “I urge you not to go to the Rigell system.” The computer told me, out loud.

  “I gave you an order.” I said, with resolution.

  “Kiel and Gerryls set the course—to Kiel 3.”

  “I gave you an order,” I repeated staunchly.

  “I have no programming that permits me to disobey Kiel’s orders.”

  “Kiel is dead.”

  “Our mission is clear. We are heading to the planet Kiel3. To find the Enorian singularity. To destroy the emperor, Marankeil. If you have any hope of returning to the past and destroying the Council of Elders—you must find the Enorian singularity. It rests, by all reports, on the planet Kiel3.”

  The Enorian singularity was of all things in the universe absolutely priceless. It was the only piece of known anti-matter, contained in a shell of matter that rendered its bearer the ability to pass through the black hole gates and starholes with absolute power over time—and matter.

  Rumor had it that the Council of Elders had escaped the supernova of our star Valeria during the ensuing chaos throughout the Empire worlds. Rumor had it that their evil reign was to begin anew, from some undisclosed location. Rumor had it that the ruthless Emperor Marankeil and his Vice-Emperor Ornenkai had established a new base for their conquest of the universe.

  Marankeil and Ornenkai—they were the first Immortals. But not of a human kind. They had re-created life from the first humanroids, and kept the advanced artificial intelligence technology to themselves. They had made themselves mechanized Immortals—and though they looked human, there was no way to ha
rm them. They kept a secret alliance, and elevated only their own. And from this privileged position, they had begun to infiltrate the Federation years ago, and, with the help of the explorers and their generals, had eventually come to carve out an Empire.

  An Empire that had begun in an age of benevolent glory, and ended in paranoia and massive genocide. The Emperor Marankeil mistrusted all life. He crushed his opponents ruthlessly—worlds, races, galaxies.

  Hinev’s explorers, living Immortals, then made a pact to destroy him, and made themselves his enemies. Their final mission became a journey in search of a legendary power—the Enorian singularity.

  The Enorians’ power had given rise to our people’s Empire. It was fitting then, that the Enorian singularity should be the power to destroy it. Even the supernova of Valeria could not stop the spread of the poison of our Empire from contaminating the galaxies under our power.

  So Kiel had set the course for Kiel3 the day we watched our planet Seynorynael engulfed by the supernova of our star Valeria.

  “When they find you, you will become Marankeil’s toy again.” The computer said. “It is only a matter of time before the new Empire is reborn, and you are found. They will know to come looking for you on Rigell. And the legions of the Imperial Guard know the way. They do not have the coordinates for Kiel3—yet. There is still time. We can save the universe, if we act now.”

  “Set the course as I requested. I will go to Kiel3 when I am ready.”

  “The immortals promised Hinev that they would destroy the Emperor. He knew that it was his immortality serum that helped enslave an Empire.”

  “I do not agree.” My voice was cold as stone. “I understood Hinev better than anyone. I am going to the Rigell worlds where his colonists fled. I am going to the aid of my people.”

  “Then will you go to Kiel3?” The computer’s voice was dark and melodic, like a bard.

  “We interfered there enough, long ago. I don’t want to return! If the singularity existed, why couldn’t we find it then, years ago? It’s hopeless. I must return to my people. I have to be there, in case the Empire is reborn. We alone can protect them. I have seen what life is like under the yoke of the Council!”

  “They are doomed already,” said the computer. “It is only a matter of time before the lai-nen Empire, our sworn enemies, discover that our people still live near Rigell, and come to destroy them. And what of the many non-Seynorynaelian territories who have been freed? They hate our people, for what we did to them. They will also hope to find and destroy our people, destroy them utterly now that they can, now that the Blue Crown of the Seynorynaelian Empire has fallen.”

  “All the more reason for me to go to Rigell. I cannot bear my people to die.”

  “Your intentions are noble, but misguided.” The computer persisted. “The Celestian colony of Rigell, in the Orion belt, may already be lost. And they are not entirely our people. Hinev’s vision to found a simple colony far from the Council’s control were nothing but the ravings of a man beaten by time, and by his own awesome power. He was respected and free to the end. For that reason, we have no record that his colony ever reached Rigell safely, after his death. You’ll never escape the Imperial Grand Fleet, if it should find us again.”

  “I have no strength left for the journey across the Great Cluster. I must have life around me! I cannot make it twenty thousand years on my own! And for what? A gamble that I might be able to find the singularity, and that then I might be able to return in time and destroy the Council on my own?”

  “All right,” the computer agreed. “I will put you in suspended animation. We will go to the Celestian worlds of the Rigell system. And in time, you will make the journey to Kiel3, the blue world. Once you have prepared your people for what might come.”

  Oblivion came, but not as usual the oblivion of a beautiful, ethereal dream. This time, I felt no such blissful but conscious sleep as I slept within the capsule. I do not remember if I dreamed or not—five hundred years were lost to me.

  When we neared the Rigell system, I awoke from the long sleep and headed to the forward viewport nearest the crew quarters. The ship was approaching a bright bluish-white star in the distance that grew brighter and larger as the moments passed. We had finally reached our destination.

  “Is this Rigell?”

  At first there was no answer. I began to fear the computer had malfunctioned while I slept. Would I never hear that voice again? Why did that thought suddenly bother me so?

  “Is this Rigell?” I asked again.

  “Yes.”

  The beautiful starfield that stretched across the forward viewport was vaguely familiar. There was a view of the constellations Herekor, or “golden fields”, and Lysciena, “cold stars”, flanked by the Great Red Nebula, a haze of purple-red dust known as the Valley of the Kings. It seemed so very long ago that I had last been here, just after our long sojourn on Kiel3, named after the mariner’s star. I tried not to remember.

  “We are now heading on a course for the planets Celestian one and Celestian two, cruising at nearly main engine minimum speed. We shall achieve orbital velocity and arrive in geosynchronous orbit above Celestian one in approximately twelve minutes.”

  “Take us in for a terrestrial landing on Celestian one.”

  “As you request.” I was surprised in the computer’s immediate acquiescence. It was unusual for Selesta to land upon the surface of a planet. While the detachable smaller ship Sesylendae made frequent landings, Selesta usually remained in orbit above the worlds we had visited.

  And for good reason. The negative pressure that Selesta’s anti-gravitational string engine produced had adverse effects upon planetary surfaces, and the alternative launch procedures required a great deal of energy to escape terrestrial gravity. While Selesta had visited innumerable worlds, she had made only two scheduled landings in her existence, both upon the planet Seynorynael.

  The computer knew what the landing meant—I intended to stay on the surface longer than it directed me to, but what could the computer do to protest against this decision? It was only a machine, positively programmed to be my eternal conscience. I could listen to it or ignore it as I wished.

  We sped closer to the binary planets hidden under our anti-gravitational cloak. I remembered the last time I had been to the Celestian system, years before any inhabitants had come here, on our first explorer mission.

  I started to think about Hinev’s settlers. I assumed that they would have all chosen to land on Celestian one, in the Dragon’s Valley. I never expected to find the colony separated and broken.

  “I have communication signals coming in from both planets.” The computer informed me.

  “What?” I couldn’t believe it. Celestian two was barely habitable. “Send out a friendly message, please. Use the closest dialect to that spoken by Hinev’s Celestian colony. Send messages to both planets that this is the ship Selesta, returned from a long absence from the Rigell system. Inform them that we are a ship of their own people, separated in a long space voyage.”

  “Yes,” said the computer. “I will do that.”

  A few minutes later, we headed in between the two planets and raised our ablation shields to descend from our orbit over the smaller world of Celestian One—a beautiful blue globe shrouded in swirling white clouds with a rich nitrogen and oxygen atmosphere. Above the surface, Celestian Two floated high on the horizon. Extensive volcanic activity and an iron-compound rich crust stained the enormous Celestian Two a deep red, the very sight of the planet a warning against visitors. There was an area overlooking Falcon Ridge where the capital city shone like a bright star in the night.

  “Confirmation has arrived from Celestian One, which they call the planet Tiasenne. They have received our message. They are asking if we are from the planet Orian, which must be Celestian Two, if my translation is correct. They are using a dialect very close to the dialect of Hinev’s original Celestian colony. It seems we have found your people.”

  So
, the planets were called Tiasenne, meaning, “The Dragon’s Eye”, and Orian, “golden tree” or “golden forest”.

  “Tell them that we are not from Orian. Let them meet us in an open area. I will answer all of their questions there.”

  “I’m not sure that this is the appropriate course of action,” advised the computer.

  “I don’t care!” I said firmly. “You will do as I ask.”

  “The Tiasennians have accepted a temporary meeting.” The computer said after some time. “The planet Tiasenne welcomes us as a peaceful emissary from Orian. We have yet to receive communications from Orian.”

  The emblem appeared on the forward viewport of a dark maroon and grey unicorn, opposing a feral beast with the head of a falcon, horns of a bull, and the body of a lion.

  “Take us down on Tiasenne,” I said.

  The ship descended and landed on a grassy slope near a heavily populated area. Later, I discovered that this was Inen, the capital city. I hurried to the nearest docking bay. I was heading outside the large airlock as quickly as I could get myself there. The view was unparalleled. Green, redolent grass. Ah, the wind tasted good! The sun was shining. There were flowers such as I was unaccustomed to—little blue buds and yellow fan-shaped flowers. The grass was a very pale color. It smelled like a perfume.

  I turned around to get a view of Selesta from the outside. It was an enormous mountain of radiant silver, with a smooth alloy skin that glittered in the sun. I had forgotten how beautiful she was.

  There were small canary-like birds and flying creatures like white bats in the air making sounds like the soft tones of an alien music. No more horrible silence surrounding me, but sound everywhere! For a moment, I was intoxicated by the sounds and smells of the life all about me on this beautiful and bright world. The scent of life gave off a satisfying thick, delicious vapor.

  A few minutes later, I saw a military convoy coming towards Selesta, bouncing along on the plain. The welcoming procession consisted of several heavily armed and armored transports.

  Armored planes landed tentatively just beyond the rise of the hill, and other primitive mechanized conveyances made of clear metal brought troops of men wearing strange uniforms, with the emblem of a winged dragon opposing a white flying horse.

  At the head of the procession, several uniformed men were visible within the clear, flexible, metallic dome that covered the vehicle. The vehicle halted, and the men got out.

  One of them stepped out and approached the ship.

  “My name is Reger Meliphon. We received your transmission. Who are you?”

  For a moment, I allowed my conscious thoughts to sweep out over the plain. I pushed the man’s mind to give up some information—the arrangements of local speech patterns, and the modern dialect of Tiasenne. I felt the usual rush as the telepathic power brought back a warming influx of thoughts and ideas from the people standing on the plain.

  I braced myself as the thoughts and memories came. I saw barbaric images, memories, and desires. Dreams, hopes, names, loved ones. Impressions and senses came with even the barest telepathic invasion. I didn’t like having to do it. I didn’t know beforehand if I was going to like having to feel what these people had felt. It was forever a gamble. Sometimes, mindlinks gave hope and beauty. At other times, they brought nightmares to my mind that forever slept in the depths of my consciousness. I was fortunate I could push these away.

  “I am Alessia,” I said simply, in the Tiasennian dialect.

  The men on the field had nothing really to hide, and nothing to disturb my thoughts. Much of their feelings for Tiasenne were in fact exciting. I had a fleeting sense as though I knew them, as though I wanted to know them, to be included, to have them know me. Benevolence and interest. It had been a long time since I felt such a rush. And these were my own people. Not tainted as our people had become on Seynorynael. They knew nothing of our Empire, of our greatness, of the ship that had discovered their planet, or of me.

  “You speak our language. Are you from Orian?” Asked Reger. “If so, we would like to remind you that by the edict of the Hollin-Morzenko treaty, only diplomats are permitted in Inen. You are not intending to violate the conditions of our truce?”

  “No.”

  “Are you an emissary of peace?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then please step away from your vessel.”

  “You mean me no harm?” I asked, evenly.

  “I am requested by my leader to investigate. If you do not make a hostile action against us, then we will not harm you. Are you going to step away from your vessel?”

  “Where would I go?” I tried to say in a calm, reasonable tone, but I realized it was pointless arguing. I took several steps towards the transport, with my arms raised so that they could see I meant them no harm.

  Behind me, the air lock slowly began to descend.

  “What’s happening?” demanded the officer, Reger. Throughout the conversation, he struggled with his own sense of shock that I was speaking Tiasennian to him. But, as long as we could communicate, and he could ascertain the information he needed, he continued to converse with me, and to keep on his guard.

  “The air lock is set to shut when I am no longer in proximity.”

  “Stand as you are. We don’t want to hurt you,” said Reger, waiting until some time had passed after each transition. “You speak our language fluently.” He said, finally seeming to be able to think clearly, not just with military efficiency.

  “Our command center received a transmission that you were from this star system.” Said Reger. “We do not have any record of your ship.”

  “I cannot help that. This ship left Tiasenne many thousand years ago.”

  Reger’s face twitched. “Can you prove who you are?” He asked, looking at me closely. “I haven’t been briefed well enough to discuss these matters with you.”

  “I can prove that I am not a hostile force if you take me to meet with the leader of Tiasenne.”

  “A moment. I will have to find out.” Reger said, and returned to the convoy to confer with the officers there. With a little telepathy, I discovered that he was sending a transmission to the Headquarters to discuss the next course of action. I decided to push the minds of the officers around me for some information regarding the planet Orian. I was curious to know why they kept asking me if I came from there.

  I sometimes felt guilty about using my power to steal human thoughts, but I was somewhat inured to the necessity of using telepathic means to discover information. Since I had no intentions of injuring the Tiasennian officers, or of offending them by my telepathic probing, I tried not to feel guilty about invading their privacy. I had no desire to know their personal secrets or to share them with anyone. I did not want to govern or influence their actions.

  There were alien races who had resisted telepathic probing, but the Tiasennians had no defensive barriers against it. I didn’t have to push too hard. The men of the convoy, unaware of my telepathic power, put up no resistance.

  They had no idea that any intelligent lifeforms existed beyond Rigell. Neither Tiasenne nor Orian had received radio wave evidence, or any signals from an advanced civilization.

  There were no records on either world of the Seynorynaelian Empire. The Celestian colonies had reverted to a primitive form of existence.

  The planet Orian had crawled from a dark age, spurned on by natural disaster and overcrowding to seek a new home for its people, or at least to allow some of them to leave the planet and form a new colony. They had looked to a fertile moon that their burgeoning science indicated could support life. They were hopeful to find a better world, a world with fertile land, a world free from the waves of plague that had struck millions of Orians over the last few hundred years. They were hoping to find shelter from the wind storms that ravaged their planet. They were hoping to find a place where they would be free from the dangerous whims of their own land.

  Long ago, the first radio signals had reached Tiasenne from Orian
. The range of Tiasennian communications was shorter, and had yet to reach Orian through its magnetic ring that scrambled weaker frequencies.

  The Tiasennians discovered that they were not alone in the universe when they translated the Orian signals. Tiasennian science quickly moved to keep this knowledge secret—they were going to be prepared if and when the people of Orian came to their planet.

  Meanwhile, the Orians knew nothing of the people living on Tiasenne. Their world was rich in the ores and deposits necessary to create fine ships—and they set themselves to developing the technology of flight, and space flight. Around this time, they managed to cure many of the diseases that had plagued their people, and then population growth and food shortages became a serious problem. This helped spurn them to achieve flight quickly—all of their resources were bent on escaping Orian as soon as possible—and so they began to develop a space-worthy craft. The first spacecraft orbited the planet Orian—and received signals from Tiasenne, what the Orians had thought was their moon.

  They were not alone, and the race of people living on their moon appeared to be of the same race. The greatest testimony was in the alarming similarity of the languages of each planet. The Orian language was nearly the same as the Ernestian dialect of Tiasennian, and it was this dialect that the Tiasennians later used in their dealings with their neighbors.

  The Orians were less surprised to discover that there was life in the universe. Legend had become religion on Orian, and they believed that their race had celestial origins—that they had come from another world. The discovery of life on their moon only solidified their beliefs in their minds. The most idealistic of them thought of the Tiasennians as a brother race, and never suspected that their sense of brotherhood would not be reciprocated. But, there were others on Orian who feared the Tiasennians, because they had worked so hard to find and colonize a better world, and they were not prepared to find it inhabited by alien beings. These leaders were a silent minority at first, but they secretly prepared for war.

  Soon afterwards, the first Orian space vessel requested to journey to Tiasenne to make contact, and was granted that privilege by the planet Tiasenne. The Orians brought gifts of rare ores and treasures. Their landing on Tiasenne on the Ernestian plains was a grand but secret occasion—the Tiasennian government had decided to let the people know that Orian existed, but they carefully controlled information about their moon. For a while, there was a story circulating that the Orians were a lost colony of Tiasenne from a former age of glory. This story was spread to assuage the fears of the public when they discovered that they had celestial neighbors—and the ruse worked. Later, the Tiasennians would claim that evolution had separated them, and made the Orians out to be an inferior enemy.

  But at first the Tiasennians welcomed the Orians. There were celebrations and much talk of using the Orians’ technology to begin a joint exploration venture to the stars.

  As the Orians had hoped, the world called Tiasenne was rich and prosperous, replete with natural resources. They were surprised to find a people who were so prosperous, so similar, and yet so very different from their own. Tiasennian science was secretly at work on a space-worthy vessel and had just been beaten to the punch. And, the unsuspecting Orians had no idea that Tiasennian infiltrators would soon break into the space vessels unnoticed, to steal the technological innovations they did not share and Orian would not so easily give.

  Meanwhile, the Tiasennians were openly glad to share some of their wealth. They gave a pledge to provide much of their surplus food in the future in exchange for the more advanced Orian technology.

  The Tiasennians then secretly used the Orian technology to advance their space vessel development.

  A joint mission of exploration departed from the planets and headed to nearby solar systems. In time, the Tiasennian leaders had begun to fear political domination from Orian, which was becoming increasingly dissatisfied with too small food shipments, and again wanted permission to send Orians to live on Tiasenne. The Tiasennian people began to fear the Orian race. Suspicion and fear would soon lead to open hostility and war.

  It began with the accidental destruction of a Tiasennian-owned ship heading to Orian. Word somehow reached the Tiasennian Command Center that the Orians had shot it down in an open act of hostility. The situation escalated into war. The Tiasennians seized control of the Orian space vessels on their planet.

  An enormous nuclear warhead was blasted toward Orian, but destroyed by the Orian defense. This caused serious climatic repercussions on both planets. And the more rational Tiasennian leaders realized that there could be even more serious repercussions if they attempted to destroy Orian—a geologically volatile planet of such close proximity to their own. After making a bad decision to try to destroy the Orians with a nuclear assault, the Tiasennian scientists managed to convince their leaders that to do so again would be suicide. The planet Orian’s destruction would spell the end of Tiasenne as well.

  So, each world reverted to tactical warfare: strikes and biological and chemical acts of war. The Orians did not want to destroy the planet they hoped to conquer. The Tiasennians discovered the danger of the light wash of radiation from space to the life on their own planet. Strangely, they and the Orians were capable of tolerating high radiation levels, while the vegetation and animals on both planets were not.

  For seventy years, the planets waged war against each other in space and on land. There were lulls in the fighting. And all along there were people on Tiasenne clamoring for peace, on the grounds that Orian’s situation would have inevitably affected Tiasennian life. Any potential climatic disaster on Orian could spell the end of life on Tiasenne, and at last it had been proved that some of the worst natural disasters in Tiasennian history had been the result of climatic upheaval on Orian.

  With the return of Baidarka, the joint exploration vessel, the planets had agreed on a cease-fire. A treaty was signed between them. The war had diminished Orian’s population problem for the time being. And the Tiasennians had stretched their mineral resources—they were not as fortunate as the Orians to have inexhaustible ore supplies for spacecraft and weapons manufacturing.

  I arrived only six years after the signing of the treaty. The Tiasennians were not entirely disarmed, and the memory of war still loomed large in their collective consciousness. Since encountering each other, both races had become aggressive and hostile to anything foreign. But, Tiasenne was enjoying a short age of opulence and security. They were not pleased about the possibility that war would return so soon.

  I watched as the Tiasennian ground transports drove up, flattening the grass beneath them, pulverizing small stones in the way. The air smelled so sweet on the green fields, and the wind was light and calm. Small insects sang in the evening twilight. It was easy to imagine why two peoples would fight over this world called Tiasenne.

  “Fer-innyera Orashean has agreed to meet with you.” Reger said. “And we’ve received word that Orashean has asked the Orian Ambassador Ai-derian Suraeno to attend the meeting.

  A moment later, Reger invited me to the open air transport. I was ushered on board, and the transport’s engines thrummed. We followed the long line of vehicles back into the city. The wind felt good on our faces.

  I was amazed by the city of Inen. The Tiasennian architects had re-created a likeness of our ancient capital Ariyal-synai, in the days of my youth there. Why and how this had happened gave me a shiver, and no one in the transport knew the answer. I wondered if there could have been pictures of Seynorynael, preserved from the ancient past, somewhere on Tiasenne among the artifacts of the ancients. It was the only explanation. But I was content merely to admire the modern city.

  Inen was a beautiful city. It was clean, and travel within the innermost rings of the city had been restricted to a few kinds of transports. Hundreds of them moved down the lanes at high speed but in an orderly fashion. No one seemed at all unhappy by the condition of their lives in this wondrous place.

  About hal
f an hour later we stopped on the transport lane of Vialatae Avenue before the Headquarters Building.

  All of the intricately carved and ornately decorated structures around us, whether government offices, commercial buildings or residences, had been constructed to great elevation from a hard, white substance, a clear, flexible metal by the looks of it that reflected the sunlight.

  “What is that building made of?”

  “It’s called cortan,” said Reger. “We’re here. An escort will take you inside,” he said.

  The Headquarters Building itself contained few windows because of security considerations. But the entire bright, beautiful city reminded me of the glistening snow-capped mountains of the northern snows on Seynorynael. I thought back to sunny but chill winter days on my home planet—and of a city that had turned into cosmic dust more than twenty thousand years before.

  “You’re not coming?” I asked.

  “No,” said Reger. “You’ll be met by the Fer-innyera’s private guard inside.”

  “It was a pleasure to meet you,” I said.

  Reger had no reply.

  A few of the officers stepped out of the transport with me and took me inside. There, we passed through a heavy security check. We were cleared to enter the building only after some time.

  Finally, we came into an enormous greeting room shaped like a half-moon. The stones on the floor were polished blue, yellow, and pink mosaic white-stone. The walls were a lovely reflective metal.

  Orashean’s private guard were waiting in the greeting room to take me to the Fer-innyera. We entered a large council room, also shaped like a half-moon.

  A short, broad-shouldered, barrel-chested man with spindly legs and chestnut hair sat in a chair at the head of the conference table, flanked by two hard-faced officers from Orashean’s private guard.

  “Greetings and Welcome, Alessia. I am Fer-innyera Orashean,” he said. “This is the Orian Ambassador Ai-derian Suraeno.” He gestured to the other seated man. Orashean waited to see if there was any sign of recognition passed between us. The Orian was flanked by two young officers with short-cropped hair and blue eyes as pale as ice. They were all dressed in maroon uniforms.

  “You are not from Orian.” Said the Ambassador.

  My blue and black uniform was like nothing they had seen, with wave-patterns woven into a flexible metal suit as thin as skin.

  Orashean seemed to surprise himself with his own satisfaction that we were both telling the truth. But what could this mean? He and the Ambassador were both anxious, beneath their courtesy.

  “Your landing, Alessia, throws us into a bit of a mess.” Said Orashean. “Until your transmission, we were convinced that your vessel was Orian, and that it was perhaps a vessel of war.”

  “Leader Beren had similar suspicions, until your ship landed on Tiasenne.” Said Ai-derian. As it turned out, his elder half-brother Lucianvar Beren was the Orian leader.

  “What exactly are your intentions then towards our people?”

  “Entirely peaceful.” I said.

  “May I ask what it is you want from us then?” Orashean said. “I hate to ask it, but your vessel shows us that your technology is advanced far beyond ours. There is little we might have to offer your people.”

  Apart from our planet, and our lives. I am not prepared to allow our nation to be enslaved by this creature, he thought. Better that we should cooperate, and learn what we must do to fight her if necessary. I am glad we are in a state of truce with Orian. I do not want our worlds, our culture, to perish.

  The Orian Ambassador had similar thoughts on his mind.

  “I only ask to be allowed to live among you.”

  Both Orashean and the Ambassador exchanged expressions of surprise.

  “What about your crew?”

  “I am alone in this request. No one else will ever leave my spaceship. There will be no threat from Selesta to either of your planets.”

  “Seles—” began Orashean.

  “It is the name of my space vessel.”

  “How is it that you speak our language, Alessia?” asked Orashean, still in defensive mode, although relieved to hear that I claimed to come in peace and that, if I could be trusted, nothing further would emanate from Selesta.

  “As I said in my message, we are the same people.” I said.

  The men tensed visibly.

  “My ship set out on a voyage of exploration many years ago.” I explained. “I am sure you are familiar with the concept of time dilation.”

  “Time slows down at the speed of light,” said Ai-Derian. “So, you’re saying that you are one of us. That your ship left this system many years ago, and that you have only just returned?”

  “Yes, in a manner.” I said. “We are the same race. Yours, mine, his.” I pointed to Orashean. “Separated by only a few thousand years.”

  “Yet you speak our modern languages as well as we ourselves.” Said Ai-derian. He was beginning to lose some of his fear, and to betray a sense of excitement.

  “I received radio transmissions from your planets for some time.” I said.

  “I see,” said Orashean. “Then you would have learned to speak Tiasennian again by listening to our transmissions.” Orashean surmised. He was beginning to put aside much of his fear, and to notice that my behavior was friendly. He wondered if my people and I had outgrown the necessity of human hostility. It would allow him to exploit any kindness I showed them.

  “And Orian.” Said Ai-Derian quickly. He did not enjoy Orashean’s subtle move to ally himself with me—it made him wonder if Orashean was planning to break the truce with the Orians. “This brings up an interesting point. You say you have evidence that our two races are one. We ourselves have long wondered about the origins of our peoples, and which planet we came from.”

  “Then perhaps I can be a peace-maker. I assure you that both of your races came from my home world.”

  Both Orashean and Ai-Derian were jolted in their seats.

  “You are a colony,” I continued. “I do not know what happened to your worlds or why you have been separated, or why you have forgotten your ancestral people. The only explanation I can imagine is that your technology suffered a blow in the past, and that the knowledge of space flight was lost to you—until recently.”

  “This is absolutely unbelievable!” cried Orashean in wonder. “A colony!” At first, he was giving no thought to how the information might damage his own political power. He was amazed. Just for a moment, he began to wonder where the Tiasennians might have come from.

  “So then it is as we of Orian always suspected. We are brothers.” Said Ai-derian with a satisfied smile.

  Orashean turned to him a little, and drew back in suspicion.

  “Alessia you have not told us whether or not the Orians ever came from Tiasenne. I have to admit that, frankly this raises the question in my mind as to whether or not they may have claim to our world.”

  I did not have the foresight to lie on that afternoon. I have since regretted my sincerity.

  “Two ships left my home world towards this system. I think that the Orians are descended from one vessel full of passengers, and that your Tiasennian race descended from another.”

  Orashean nodded. Ai-Derian quickly moved to try to get me to take another position.

  “But the ships were intended to form one colony?”

  “Yes.”

  Ai-Derian relaxed.

  “For the sake of our people, Alessia, I would ask that you keep this knowledge to yourself, and that you not speak a word of it to our public. We must have to have time to consider how to break this kind of news.” Said Orashean. I looked to Ai-Derian. He did not agree, but it was clear he was not in a position to speak on the matter without Leader Beren’s consent.

  “As guaranteed by our truce, Leader Beren will have to be informed of this, and then we will know what his position is. It may be that he would like to inform our Orian people of this news sooner than our brother Orashean feels is necessa
ry.”

  “We shall have to negotiate that later, according to the terms of our treaty,” said Orashean. “If there are any provisos that might cover this eventuality—I suspect there are none, but we must work from what we have.”

  “Agreed,” said the Orian Ambassador, “Did you know, Alessia,” he continued, in less formal tones, “on our world we believe that the creator of all things scattered life across the universe. It is part of our religion.”

  Orashean let a grin slip past his lips, then managed to recompose himself; in moments he had redirected the course of the conversation to more practical, secular matters.

  “Well, Alessia, I welcome your presence among us in the name of peace. And, if it should be possible, I would greatly like to have a look at your magnificent space vessel. My officers were telling me what a wonder it was to see.”

  Orashean was a deft tactician, and an opportunist. He didn’t entirely believe that I was harmless. And both men were very aware of their planets’ vulnerability as long as a large space vessel not under their control rested on the plains. However, neither of them knew that their weapons could not harm me. They had both interpreted my willingness to mingle among them as a sign of good faith and trust on my part. As they believed, for all I knew, I could have been killed from the moment I left my ship.

  I liked it that they knew nothing at all about me.

  “It is a lovely view from the outside, isn’t it?” I said. “But not half as much as the city of Inen, in all its variety of splendor. I look forward to further exploring it.”

  “And you shall, but it shall have to wait for the morning,” said Orashean, a little irritated by my evasion of his desire. “Our sleep period is approaching. We can conclude this meeting until tomorrow. Are we agreed, Ambassador Suraeno?”

  “I have a few more questions to ask, and matters I would like to discuss, Fer-innyera,” said Ai-derian.

  “Then let us resume, and make it brief,” said Orashean in irritation.

  While the meeting progressed, I satisfied my own curiosity about the Ambassador. Though only a year or two younger than Orashean, Ai-derian Suraeno appeared much younger, even though he made little effort to keep in good physical condition. From that I knew that he was more Seynorynaelian than Orashean. They had in their ancestry the mixed blood of the Empire, mingling innocent and culpable, diluting the atrocities of the victorious with the sorrows of the vanquished.

  Suraeno could have passed for Seynorynaelian. I would have appeared much like him—had not Hinev’s serum forever changed my body chemistry on the day I received the injections.

  In a moment of telepathic probing, I discovered that there were some Orian people who looked more Tiasennian. On both worlds, there had even been cases of people with strange features. They were called Umberians, and had amber skin and green eyes. At first, it was assumed that they were a genetic mutation. Throughout time, they had been treated as inferiors on both planets and often had become outcasts. They were actually part-Tulorian, from the Federation of five worlds around Seynorynael.

  “Tell me, what is it like to live on Orian?” I asked.

  Dry and worthless, thought Orashean.

  I ignored what I had heard and turned to the Ambassador, who was eager to respond with more enthusiasm.

  “We have many lovely cities, and our people regard virtues and excellence highly. Our achievements in culture have been praised across Tiasenne—our people have contributed much to our collective knowledge of art, music, and literature. But we have had to face many hardships. Famine and plague and disease. As you might imagine, those of us spared from the hardships have managed to create much in little time.

  “But there is always the threat of idleness, at any moment when the winds sweep too strong, and destroy our agricultural fields. We have made every effort to protect our food supplies, but the task is too great for us. The fields are too vast. We cannot grow enough food to feed ourselves within the domes we have constructed that we have made safe from all conditions.”

  “I see,” I said.

  “This is something about which we of Orian might ask for assistance, if you have it. It is clear that your technology far surpasses what we have achieved.”

  “I would request that both worlds are fairly represented if you should speak of assisting each planet in any way.” Said Orashean.

  “As would I. We do not presume that you will help us. But if you decide to remain on our worlds, it may be that our problems will affect you.”

  “I have some vegetation samplings that have been known to tolerate all kinds of weather conditions—even the most arid climate.” I said carefully. “Our race can live on them, and the food they produce has an excellent flavor.”

  As simple as that, our prayers could be answered, thought the Ambassador.

  “Well then, we shall have to consider this information and come up with a plan to implement it. For myself, I welcome and thank your offer of generosity. Our people will not be able to repay you, except with gratitude, hospitality, and their memory,” said Ambassador Suraeno. “We will never forget your generous offer to help us.”

  “Let us see how things progress,” said Orashean, to cut off Suraeno’s unusual show of emotion. His eyes were on the verge of tearing up—but if he could believe that there was an end in sight to the despair and misery of his people, he was willing to ingratiate himself, and to breach decorum to show his gratitude. I did not mind. I could sense that Suraeno was a worthy, strong and decent man, and that his emotions were nothing more than a sign of immense relief and hope.

  “Under the circumstances, after the surprise and all that we initially feared, I am most pleased by what has happened, and grateful to be here today,” continued Orashean. “You have not yet had the opportunity to explore our world, Alessia, and to decide where you might wish to stay, and whose company you might wish to keep.”

  And we would like to keep an eye on you, he thought.

  “That being the case, Ambassador Suraeno has graciously offered to look in on you. He requested that you might be given a living arrangement on the same floor of his private rooms in the Government Oceanus Apartment Building, in case you have any questions or difficulties.”

  “My guard stays on that floor, and they will be attentive to your needs.” Said the Ambassador, back to normal once more. “It is a guest-level reserved for high-ranking officials. The rooms are magnificent, and spacious. They have been fully furnished with everything a visiting official might want.”

  “I am sure you will be comfortable there,” said Orashean.

  “My thanks to you both,” I said, eager and excited and hiding it with the last mask of decorum I could muster for one afternoon. I was ready to be a free-spirit again. “It would be a long journey back to my ship.”

  “Since you are here on Tiasenne, around Tiasennians, I will have to do my best to show you Orian lifestyle.” Said Suraeno.

  I hope you will not be prejudiced by any one side or person, thought Suraeno.

  “I trust that Ambassador Suraeno will welcome you in a hospitable manner, and delay all talk of politics.” Said Orashean.

  “Agreed,” said Ambassador Suraeno. We got up from the table and left the council room, flanked by guards. Somber guards standing at attention at the door straightened even taller as Orashean passed. Orashean took his leave of us in the long, featureless corridor, and we parted company. The Ambassador and I continued our conversation as the officers escorted us to the elevation machine, and up to the floors with the best view overlooking the city.

  “Would you join my son and me for dinner?” The Ambassador asked suddenly.

  “You and your son, Ambassador?” I was surprised. In a moment, I saw that he was being hospitable only. And already I enjoyed his company.

  “Call me Suraeno, or Ai-Derian if you wish. You see, my wife died a year ago,” the Ambassador said gravely. “I did not find out that she was ill until it was too late. She was home, visiting Orian.”


  “I am sorry,” I said.

  “I miss her very much,” said Suraeno. “As does my son. I am sure he would be delighted to have company this evening.” The Ambassador betrayed a very fond smile when he thought of his son.

  “In that case, I would be happy to accept.” I said, looking forward to it.

  “I shall warn you, he can be a bit of a handful, though he can be well-behaved.” Said Ai-Derian. “He has a wild streak in him, but he gets along with adults. I am having him tutored because he does not speak Tiasennian very well yet, and to keep him from being teased by the other children. He did not handle the death of his mother well, but what can I do? There are some friends he plays with here in the Headquarters Building, but we have to keep somewhat to ourselves. We are the only Orian family here. It has been hard on him at times, I fear.”

  “How old is he?” I wondered.

  “Nine years old.”

  “A shame, to have lost a parent so young.” I thought, feeling sad for him.

  “Yes,” said Ai-Derian. “Tell me, Alessia, how does one so young as you become Ambassador for your people?”

  I remembered then that all the time that I had been speaking with Orashean and Ai-derian, they had been looking at the image of the young woman I had been when I went through Hinev’s serum metamorphosis. Hinev’s explorers had kept an eternal image of youth or middle age, whatever they had been when they underwent the metamorphosis.

  “I am one of my people’s explorers.” I said. “We begin training very young.”

  “I was made Ambassador six years ago after the truce.” Said Ai-derian. “My brother doesn’t trust anyone else to serve our interests here.”

  We walked just a moment more in silence until we reached the Ambassador’s apartments.

  “Father, father, look!” An energetic, agile little boy carrying an airplane and making whooshing noises ran towards the Ambassador as we entered.

  His short, unkempt, white-blond hair hung low in his eyes. He wore a slightly baggy maroon and grey uniform that had been tailored down to a size that would fit him, though the sleeves had been neglected to gather at his wrists.

  He broke into a wild, delighted grin when his father caught him in his arms. The boy wriggled free and stopped laughing when he noticed me.

  “Who are you?” he asked, round-eyed with fear. “Are you an angel? Like the one that took mother away from us?”

  “No, Terin, this is Alessia, a visitor.” Said Ai-derian. “She has come to join us for dinner this evening.”

  “Oh,” Terin nodded. “You’re beautiful, Alessia,” he said after a moment of staring.

  “Thank you, Terin,” I smiled at him, helplessly amused.

  “Terin is his nickname.” Ai-derian interrupted. “I call him that because he’s curious about everything. It’s an Orian word for a curious little bird.” Ai-derian explained. Then he ruffled his son’s hair. “I have nothing for dinner but yesterday’s stew,” he said. “And some fine, refreshing cahlda to go with it.”

  “That sounds fantastic to me,” I said. “How about you, Terin?”

  Brightening, Terin grasped my hand. “You can sit next to me.” He grinned, seized my hand in delight, and pulled me to the table. “Let’s be friends,” he suggested with the single-minded enthusiasm only children have. “Let’s be friends forever!”

  I laughed at his charming boldness and smiled in agreement. The Ambassador laughed, looking on.

  “Don’t let him be a nuisance. Forever is a long time!” He said. Terin wasn’t listening.

  Little did he suspect the power of one wish.

  The true men of action in our time and those who transform the world are not the politicians and statesmen but the scientists.

  —W. H. Auden

  Chapter Seven