by Alix Nichols
Instinctively, Nollan had switched to his lecturer voice. Which had thrown Areg fifteen years back, to his Academy days. Keeping a straight face became a challenge.
Dammit!
The last thing Areg wanted was to suggest a lack of respect for Nollan. Casting his eyes down, he interlaced the fingers of his hands over his mouth.
“The LOR’s stated goal is peace and good governance throughout Xereill,” Nollan explained. “Its decisions are made by the Assembly, which includes all the allied realms in Xereill. Urgent matters are decided by the Council of Seven.” He turned to the teenager. “Does that answer your question?”
The boy nodded, yawning.
“Those giftless planets that Lord Sebi mentioned, are they like Hente?” a woman asked.
“Yes and no.” Areg turned toward her. “Without the rich-bloods and their powerful abilities, things on those planets are more… predictable.”
The woman cocked her head. “In what way?”
“Let’s see…” Areg’s lips quirked as he came up with an example. “You can expect people around you not to shift shapes or make apples taste like poop.”
“Why would anyone do that, anyway?” the woman asked.
“Because they’re bored?” Areg shrugged. “And because they can.”
People chuckled.
“So those planets are exactly like Hente, then,” someone said.
“Not exactly.” Areg ran his hand through his hair. “Their societies are fairer. Everyone has a lifestyle similar to the lifestyle only noble-borns and some proficients enjoy on Hente.”
“That’s Aheya’s Eternal Garden you’re talking about!” someone near the door shouted.
Areg cracked up.
Nollan shook his head. “No, sir. My friend is talking about places in this life, in this galaxy.”
“How is that possible?”
“Thanks to good government,” Nollan said. “No one is forced to do the hardest work, the kind of work that wears people down before their time.”
“How does that work get done, then?” a woman in the back of the room asked.
“Indeed, please tell us,” a man in the first row said, “If everyone can choose not to work in the mines or the laundry room, who does those jobs?”
“Machines.” Areg paused to let that sink in. “Level-two implements far more advanced than the tools you’re used to. Thanks to them, an individual’s birth doesn’t equal their destiny.”
Nollan addressed the back of the room. “Everyone can choose what they do in life. They can choose who they want to be.”
“I want to be a governor,” a woman shouted from the floor between two rows.
The room tee-heed.
“On the planets Lord Sebi and I are talking about,” Nollan said, peering in the direction the voice came from, “you could be.”
Areg leaned forward. “The new superintendent of the League of Realms, Lady Olinnie Tann-Lo, is a woman from a low-income family. True, she’s a polygifted rich-blood and exceptionally smart, but her title is not hereditary. She earned it on her home planet, working as an investigator.”
Areg glanced at Nollan who looked pleased watching the room hum with the information.
The seed was planted.
Everyone there—especially the menials—would mull over what they heard here for weeks and months to come. They’d tell their families and friends about it. For the first time in their lives, they’d allow for a possibility of a better life for their children.
And perhaps even for themselves.
“Caretaker Governor Boggond disapproves of level-two technology and so do the vestals,” Orogate’s mayor said. “It’s evil. Don’t you remember, Lord Sebi, what caused the Cataclysm over two hundred years ago? Professor Dreggo, have you forgotten that?”
Everyone turned to stare at Nollan.
“I haven’t,” he said. “And I don’t think anyone should, ever. But here’s the thing. It wasn’t the fusion bombs that almost destroyed Hente. It was the people who built them and fired them. It was bad government. Evil was in the people, not in the technology.”
He paused before adding. “If you think about it, level-one tech isn’t that different. A knife is as good—or as evil—as the use we put it to.”
“Except a knife won’t destroy an entire world, no matter how you use it,” a vestal priestess countered.
Nollan blinked, appearing at a loss for words.
“It’s a good point, Your Glory,” Areg said. “But it’s moot. Thing is, Eia isn’t the only Ra-human society in Xereill. Nor is it the only one on Hente, as we know all too well. When other realms adopt level-two tech, while we hang on to our knives, we make ourselves vulnerable. Eia becomes fair game.”
“Need I remind Her Glory how we got Teteum to retreat and sign a peace treaty?” Nollan said, recovering his cool.
The vestal pursed her lips.
“The late Ambassador Sebi filed a complaint with the League of Realms,” Nollan continued. “LOR attempted mediation. When that failed, they supplied us with weapons. Level-two tech, all of it. That’s when we began to push back, instead of just getting massacred by the Teteum Army, which was half the size of Eia’s.”
“That was an exceptional course of action dictated by dire circumstances,” the Orogate mayor said. “Not a green light for more level-two tech. Caretaker Governor Boggond made that clear his very first decree after Governor Iorasu passed.”
Areg sneered. “Then why doesn’t he abide by his own decrees?”
“Careful, Lord Sebi.” The mayor wagged a finger. “You may be a war hero, but that doesn’t entitle you to filthy insinuations.”
“You’re right.” Areg nostrils flared. “To hell with insinuations.”
He had a sense that the words dancing at the tip of his tongue were imprudent, but he couldn’t help himself.
“How about facts?” he said. “Here’s one. By what means do you think our caretaker governor communicates with his aides, with the LOR, and with other planets? He uses a commlet. That’s an imported level-two device.”
He surveyed the audience. “Here’s another fact. Have you noticed how Lord Boggond’s vehicle is powered by a motor? As is Chief Ultek’s. And a few other notables.”
“I’ve seen one of those motorized vehicles!” a man cried out. “They’re so cool.”
“Me too. I’ve seen one—our mayor’s!” someone else said, laughter in his voice.
“Shouldn’t farmers and miners be able to use such engines, too?” Areg asked. “Wouldn’t it be good if Eia could produce its own level-two tech, accessible to everyone, and not just to the hypocrites at the top?”
The moment those words were out, he regretted them. It was one thing campaigning for a resolutely tech-progressive candidate. But it was another slamming Boggond—and the entire establishment—the way he’d just done.
Because Lord Molm Boggond wasn’t just a deputy filling in until the Endorsement Vote.
The man fancied himself a chosen one. He completely identified himself with the job of the governor. And he craved power so much he’d do anything to hang on to it.
Areg looked around.
The room’s reaction to his outburst was telling. People stared down or out the window or at a wall. Anywhere except at him. Their faces were tense with fear.
“You went too far,” Nollan whispered to Areg.
They wrapped up the talk a few minutes later. Once outside the Theater, they made plans for the rest of the week and said goodbye.
Nollan gave Areg a feeble smile. “I smell trouble, my friend.”
Those were the last words he spoke before disappearing.
And the last words Areg heard as a free man.
CHAPTER THREE
Lord Boggond’s head bodyguard lifted his eyes from his commlet. “Your Grace, everyone is already in the interrogation room. We can set out now, if you wish.”
“Let’s go.” Lord Molm Boggond rose from his chair.
He
followed his bodyguards down the hallway of Iltaqa’s best hotel where he’d checked in an hour earlier. When he’d arrived, he could have gone straight to the prison, but he found jails and hospitals utterly depressing, and his aides knew not to make him spend more time in those places than was necessary. Even so, his spirits had been low all day.
All week, more like.
“Your Grace.” One of the bodyguards opened the door of the vehicle for him, and he climbed inside.
Funny how he’d gotten used to being called “Your Grace” by his subordinates over the last year. In stark contrast, not a single ambassador in the LOR delegation he’d been babysitting for the last few weeks referred to him that way.
They called him “lord caretaker governor” or worse, just “Lord Boggond,” as if to remind him that the Endorsement Vote hadn’t been held yet. And that LOR would be sending hordes of Certified Observers to ensure it was by the book.
As if Lord Boggond hadn’t been in charge of Eia ever since Governor Iorasu’s death! As if he wasn’t the one everyone else answered to, the one picking up the pieces after the devastating war, and the one whose shoulders bore the future of the realm.
The one destined to rule it.
The vehicle drove past Iltaqa’s Town Hall Square. It was still green and well-proportioned, but its buildings, including the town hall, had suffered during the war. They needed repairs, much like the rest of Eia’s second largest town.
The capital, Orogate, hadn’t fared much better. Even though Teteum soldiers never entered the city, they’d laid siege to it for almost two years, until Commander Heidd launched the epic offensive that changed the course of the war.
Thank Aheya, the man was loyal.
Six months ago, when Areg Sebi started to campaign for Nollan Dreggo, Lord Boggond panicked that Commander Heidd would follow suit. But Heidd chose wisely.
With the commander, and the well-regarded Judge Mahabmet on his side, Lord Boggond had been hoping to win the upcoming Endorsement Vote. With any luck, he wouldn’t even need to ask Ultek to rig it.
Except, those hopes had begun to look like illusions when Sebi’s public talks swayed town after town in favor of Dreggo.
Damn him.
While Lord Boggond’s supporters could outshout the boring professor without much trouble, a handsome war hero with bucketloads of charisma had been rending them inaudible.
Lord Boggond clenched his jaw so tight his teeth hurt. That wormhole’s spawn Sebi had no instinct of self-preservation whatsoever. Either that, or he was deluded enough to believe himself untouchable.
Like father like son.
Making him perish in an unfortunate accident would have been the easiest solution. Ultek had everything in place to make him die a glorious death while horseback riding in the East Upland. With Sebi gone, Nollan Dreggo, who lacked Sebi’s foolhardy bone, would’ve withdrawn from the race.
The problem was, Lord Boggond had used the tragic accident card on Sebi’s parents only a year ago. The public wouldn’t have bought it a second time.
So, he opted for a cleaner and smarter alternative—charge Areg Sebi with treason, find him guilty and execute him.
Ultek “found” a case with ten thousand Teteum drinars in Sebi’s Orogate pad. He also “found” a witness. Sebi’s involvement in the peace negotiations a year earlier came in handy for the case. The man had traveled to Teteum three times and had met with the realm’s leadership. Never mind that he’d attended no meeting alone. Ultek’s investigation established that it was how he’d been turned.
Both the high judge and the commander fell for the story. Or pretended to fall for it. Lord Boggond didn’t really care which.
He’d played his cards well.
And yet… the people stood by Areg Sebi and, in their vast majority, refused to believe he was guilty. Ultek’s spies were unanimous on that account. The public flogging Judge Mahabmet had ordered last week confirmed their reports. Too many in Eia weren’t buying the treason plot, and they made it known.
So did the LOR ambassadors.
Officially, the purpose of the delegation’s visit was to hand him and the Teteum king the conclusions of the LOR’s report with the cost of reparations to be paid to Eia by the aggressor.
Lord Boggond sneered.
Unless LOR was prepared to issue Teteum an ultimatum and send in the entire Cyborg Enforcer Corps, not just an intervention squad, Eia’s adversary wasn’t going to pay a drinar! And LOR knew it as well as he did.
Then again, that wasn’t why they were on Hente, was it?
The real reason was to check if the peace agreement brokered by LOR was being respected. The additional aim was to cajole him into letting Areg Sebi off the hook.
Like they would’ve bothered if the shit pile wasn’t an ambassador’s son!
“Oh, I would love to,” Lord Boggond had told them—same words he’d said to Royal Prioress Eckme and the eight majors who came to petition him yesterday.
He’d shaken his head and sighed to show how conflicted he was. “Late Ambassador Sebi was a dear friend… But my hands are tied, you see. We have a rule of law here in Eia, and Lord Sebi was formally accused of treason. The police have evidence. I must let the judges do their work.”
The ambassadors had winced at his mention of “evidence.”
“Don’t take my or Chief Ultek’s word for it,” he’d said. “Judge Mahabmet has seen it and found it compelling. So has Commander Heidd.”
Neither of the men had wished to look at the file.
Boggond knew why.
They didn’t believe what they’d see would convince them of Areg Sebi’s guilt. In fact, they feared it would convince them of his innocence, making their hands even dirtier than they already were.
Fine. Whatever.
Lord Boggond’s face tightened. If those who knew Areg Sebi personally were incapable of casting him as a bad guy, there was still hope to sway all the others. Provided the wormhole’s spawn confessed.
Which he was about to, thanks to Ultek’s “secret weapon.”
Lord Boggond’s face became a mask of disgust as it often did when he thought of Chief Ultek and his sordid methods. But it was all for a good cause.
The vehicle pulled over at the Iltaqa Prison gates, and Lord Boggond climbed out. His revulsion deepened as he and his bodyguards followed the warden down endless corridors filled with the stench of human waste and mold.
The governor pinched his nose. He’d become ill if he had to spend more than an hour in this place.
As the warden led him upstairs to the second floor, Lord Boggond squared his shoulders and schooled his features into a steely expression. Sensibilities—whether moral or physical—were a weakness. He had to be above either kind.
The group reached a door with two guards posted in front of it. At the warden’s nod, one of them opened it.
Stepping in behind his bodyguards, Lord Boggond surveyed the room to ascertain if the pieces of the board game were in place and about to play out.
Excellent.
Stuffy as ever, High Judge Mahabmet greeted him from his spot by the window.
Commander Heidd performed the military salute, his chest out and his jaw clenched.
Chief Ultek bowed and then returned to caressing his mustache.
The only person who made no move to acknowledge Lord Boggond was the arrogant shit pile Areg Sebi. But that was all right. Seeing him handcuffed, bandaged, kneeling in the center of the room, and held down by two huge prison guards was gratifying enough.
Lord Boggond strode forward and planted himself in front of Sebi. “Look at me.”
The guards yanked the prisoner’s head back.
Slowly, he opened his eyes and gave Lord Boggond a hard stare.
It was time to play his ace.
“You’ve been painting me as a villain in your talks,” Lord Boggond said. “As someone who wants to keep the people of Eia down. Someone corrupt and selfish.”
“I have. Because you a
re.”
“How dare you,” Lord Boggond heard himself shriek, before adding in a more dignified tone, “It’s Eia’s future that I have at heart. It’s for Eia that I do what I do.”
Sebi’s lips twitched just so.
Keep your cool.
“Unlike you, these men”—Lord Boggond pointed to Mahabmet, Heidd and Ultek—“are smart enough to understand what I’m doing and support me.”
Judge Mahabmet took a step forward. “The LOR’s latest report confirms that Hente’s habitable area should remain confined between the East Rocks and Oormy River for another century. It also confirms the depletion of natural resources and soil erosion within that area.”
“It’s suicidal to have two hostile realms on such a tiny patch of land,” Commander Heidd said, “especially when they are locked in a resource-intense arms race.”
The judge spoke again. “That race would lead us to another Cataclysm, which neither realm would survive.”
“I agree,” Sebi said.
Lord Boggond raised an eyebrow. “You share our analysis? Why, I’m flattered. Then you must also agree that Teteum and Eia should merge.”
Sebi nodded.
“How unexpectedly reasonable of you.” Lord Boggond bared his gums in a mirthless smile. “Then you must also agree that Eia should attack Teteum, annex it, and put an end to the untenable two-realm situation.”
Sebi surveyed him, saying nothing.
“That’s my plan,” Lord Boggond said archly.
“That’s a dumb plan.”
Before Lord Boggond had time to blink, Chief Ultek lunged at Sebi and slapped him with a force that would have sent a weaker man to the floor. “Watch your mouth, you asswipe! That’s the governor you’re talking to!”
Sebi lurched but straightened right up.
Lord Boggond cocked his head. “Apparently you, Lord Areg Sebi, have a better plan. I’d like to hear it.”
“It’s Nollan Dreggo’s plan,” Sebi said. “He detailed it in his campaign manifesto. Haven’t you read it?”
Lord Boggond jerked his nose up.
“Dreggo was naive,” Mahabmet said. “He believed unification would happen naturally with time if trade and tourism were encouraged.” He heaved a sigh. “Those ideas are delusional.”
