by Damon Alan
So far the gathering was peaceful. Alarin previously assured her that with the exception of one meeting Merik held, they always were. Despite this, Sarah insisted on two of her best marines at the back corners of the room. Alarin had reluctantly agreed to gain her presence.
The Great Hall fell into silence as Alarin stopped at the podium.
“I am honored to speak to you,” he began. “I want everyone here to understand that change is never easy. But change has come and the discussion here shouldn’t be about how to avoid it. The discussion should be about how to embrace it, how we survive this threat that Merik…” Alarin paused for a moment to breath deep. “That Merik and Sarah Dayson revealed to all of us.”
Alarin paused again as his words sank in and a dull buzz of dissent echoed across the large chamber.
Sarah appreciated his reassuring glance in her direction. She trusted he wouldn’t let her come to harm.
Edolhirr of Antecar stood up from his honored position in the front row and berated the gathering. “Silence! Do you disrespect the man who sets the example for how we should care for our people? Who risked everything to do right and keep the teachings of the priests?”
The Prolocutor hammered a round rock onto a flat stone plate. “Order! Master Edolhirr, sit down. You must respect our traditions as well.”
“That is exactly what we’re not doing,” someone shouted from the back.
Sarah typed a sentence into her datapad for Thea to read.
“Edolhirr is the one who refused to cooperate with Merik in her final days when she wished for help to attack us at Fandama. He was brave, defying her power. Had she lived, her vengeance would have been his end.”
Thea nodded and typed on her own pad. “I like him already. We should thank him at the end of today’s council.”
The hall fell silent, succumbing to the gavel of the Prolocutor, then Alarin continued. “I can understand the doubt among the priests. For a long time they struggled to contain the adepts, and in the last century or two that struggle has only grown harder. We adepts can see that delicate balance has been shattered, however. Merik devastated the priesthood of my nation.” Alarin paused, and paced the stage. “But I will see it rebuilt. That said, I must ask for one huge leap of faith from all of the priests gathered here. While we have been close in our understanding of what the gods are, we were inaccurate. I say this as a religious man. We must change to reflect this new comprehension. The adepts can no longer live in gilded palaces, scheming and plotting against one another. We must be as one. We will need the priests to help with that. Together the adepts and priesthood will see to the prosperity of our people, and also to the newcomers.”
He walked to the edge of the stage and gestured toward Sarah and Thea. “They arrived just in time to temper the destructive actions of Merik. Some of the people would call them heroes, or saviors.” Alarin paused, speaking just as skillfully as Fasdamar had. “I, however, call them friends.”
Many of the adepts and almost all the priests at the assemble rose in applause. Sarah and Thea rose to join them.
Alarin waited a moment then motioned for the crowd to be seated before he continued. “Learning that there are other people out there, in untold numbers, living within the Tapestry was a shock to me. Our people knew this at one time, but in our isolation, we forgot. A great enemy is consuming these people, and they are our brothers. Sarah Dayson and her people are vigilantly watching to keep this enemy from arriving here unchallenged. While they guard us, it is up to us to explore the boundaries of our gift. But adepts must do it together. You know my secrets. I know yours. There is no more reason for petty grabs at power. More is at stake than just our world, our children. Unless this evil beyond the reach of Tsungte is ended, everything changes. That is the goal Merik set for us in her passing.”
Again the room grew loud, mostly the rancor of angry priests. It seemed the last thing the priesthood wanted was the adepts to grow in power.
Sarah could understand that.
Alarin turned and walked to the far side of the platform. The priests on the other side increased their rancor.
The Prolocutor’s gavel drove the room to silence. “You have more, First Adept of Zeffult?”
“I do,” Alarin answered.
He paced for a moment before speaking. “Thousands of years ago our people came here, a place where we were given our gift. Time passed and we grew to understand and use it. Sarah Dayson and her people are warriors, fighting the evil that threatens all. She was brought to us, now, because her people cannot defeat their enemy. It also happened that she arrived just as we needed her people. Just as Merik ascended to godlike abilities and began to destroy our world.” Alarin’s voice assumed a more urgent tone. “Does this not speak of the hand of our creators? What I speak of is just one example. Will you deny the recent series of remarkable events as chance?”
A few in the crowd shook their heads no.
“We, my fellow adepts, are the hands and spears of God. Sarah Dayson’s people are the shield that protects our body. Our priests and the citizens of this world are that body which sustains the hands that throw the spear as well as the shield that protects us.”
Alarin paused for almost an entire minute as his description sank in. “Together, and only together, will we destroy that which threatens us all.”
He stepped over to the Prolocutor’s chair, which signaled the end of his speech.
The room erupted again, people burst from their seats. Sarah listened to the mix of cheers and boos, and was mildly pleased with what she thought the ratio was.
Several minutes passed before the crowd was reseated and silent once more.
“You have said your piece?” the Prolocutor asked.
Alarin nodded. “Honorable Prolocutor, I am done speaking. I have said all I can.”
The crowd again rose, the crescendo of applause was almost deafening in the hall built for maximizing sound.
“He’s a good speaker,” Thea yelled over the noise.
“Let’s hope it’s enough. It’s been a long time since Merik died. We’ve established Jerna, and New Korvand is a reality. Our fleet has a home. Now I’m ready to put a government together for this world.”
“One step at a time, Sarah,” Thea replied.
“If that’s how I have to do it,” Sarah said as she looked back toward the stage.
Patience was not in her genetics.
Alarin returned to stand in the middle of the platform and bowed his head respectfully toward his audience.
Chapter 3 - Obstacles to Freedom
17 MAI 15329
“Leopold56,” Lorre said. “Initiate change of command process.”
The bridge AI responded dutifully. “Initiating. State the name and rank of the new commander Schein.”
“Weapons Mate…” Lorre said, then looked at Orson.
Orson slapped the Captain across the face, which momentarily spun Lorre around.
The spontaneous act made the mutineer feel out of control, which irritated him further. “Garrette Orson, dumbass.”
“Weapons Mate Garrette Orson,” Lorre said.
“Enter captain’s code,” Leopold56 said.
Orson shifted the gun to Lorre’s temple. “You probably have a code that will do something unexpected, like melt the nav computers or something. If you use it, I don’t know if we’ll all die, but I assure you that you will. Not, however, before you see what we do to Heinrich and Stornbeck.”
Lorre entered a code into the command console.
“Code accepted. Recognition process of Weapons Mate Garrette Orson initiated,” Leopold56 said. “Acting captain Orson, please enter an eleven digit sequence as your command code and speak your full name for a print of your voice pattern.”
Orson turned the holodisplay so only he could see it, then entered the information and spoke his name.
“Welcome aboard the Schein, acting Captain Orson,” Leopold56 said.
“No,” Heinrich moaned, her voice weak.
Aware of the attention of his fellow mutineers, Orson sneered at her and floated closer, then stabbed his finger into the bullet wound of her leg.
Heinrich screamed, then bit her bottom lip as her voice dropped to a quivering whimper.
Orson finally pulled the finger from the wound, Heinrich’s blood coated his entire left index finger. He positioned himself closer to her face. “Once we’re underway, former executive officer, I will indoctrinate you to my point of view.”
He jammed his finger into her wound again as Andersott protested from the other side of the bridge.
Heinrich’s scream rang shrill in the small space, but she recovered more quickly the second time. Her breathing was ragged. “I’d rather die, you piece of shit,” she spat out.
“No,” Orson replied calmly. “A dead woman can’t bear my sons.”
Satisfied with the momentary shock on her face, he turned to his men. He pointed at Andersott. “We win round one. Stick with the plan.”
The men congratulated each other as Orson ordered Lorre from the Captain’s gravcouch.
“What are your intentions?” Lorre asked. The fire was gone from his voice, as if it transferred away with command of the ship.
“Our intentions?” Orson asked. “To take the colony ship that is orbiting Halvi along with the women of this ship and a few other… shall we say, volunteers… and make our way to a different star system where we can live in peace.”
Lorre shook his head. “Madness.”
The mutineers looked at each other a moment, then laughed. Except for Andersott. His averted eyes stayed locked on the floor.
“If wanting to be king is madness, then it’s an insanity that has consumed men since time began. But it’s of no matter to you,” Orson countered before turning back to the task at hand. “Jace, you stay with me. The rest of you take these three to the brig, and make damn sure you seal the airtight hatch behind you if you want to live,” Orson said. “Oh, and Ensign Andersott, please feel free to treat Commander Heinrich’s wounds there. I am a benevolent Captain, after all.”
Lorre wasn’t completely done yet. “Captain Dayson will kill us all to stop you. This ship is in no condition to fight after Fandama.”
Irritation again tinted Orson’s voice as he raised his eyebrows. “Think so? You think she has more balls than you do?”
He raised his weapon and shot Lorre in the chest. Again the sound reverberated within the small confines of the bridge, deafening everyone.
Lorre hit the far wall from the momentum imparted by the fléchette.
Stornbeck screamed, but Orson barely heard it over the ringing in his ears. Heinrich was nearly unconscious, and didn’t seem to notice.
“This was not our deal, Orson,” Andersott yelled.
“Andersott, take these two women off my bridge, and secure the two unconscious bridge guards in the gangway. In holding cells for now,” Orson commanded.
Andersott, eyes downcast, nodded his understanding.
“And leave the former Captain, I want to watch him die,” Orson added.
Lorre gasped for breath as blood surged from his chest.
After hesitating for a moment, Andersott started to move toward the Captain. His hand was reaching into his medkit.
Orson rotated the last fléchette into the pistol’s chamber. “Do that, Andersott, and I’ll have to question where your loyalty lies.” He raised the gun in the medical officer’s direction. “One. Shot. Left.”
Andersott stared at Orson for a moment, but then nodded his head and quietly helped Stornbeck assist Hienrich off the bridge.
Staring at the closed bridge door, Orson shook his head. “Andersott is our weak point.” Jace said nothing, so he let it drop. “You’re sure you can operate communications?”
“It’s been a few years, but I was certified until I transferred to weapons,” Jace replied as he accessed the communications console. “I’m sure. Who is going to operate the XO position?”
“Nobody. We’re not doing any real maneuvering, and it can’t be that hard to steer the ship if that stupid bitch Heinrich can do it,” Orson said. “We probably have to report to the Hinden on a schedule. Figure it out. I don’t want Dayson to get suspicious before we’ve secured this ship.”
Jace acknowledged and began exploring the controls in front of him.
Orson floated closer to Lorre as the dying man’s gasps became more labored. He stopped half a meter away. “That’s right, Captain. Let it go. I’m here for you.” He reached out and stroked Lorre’s head. “Just let go.”
He memorized Lorre’s dying look. A mix of desperation and hatred.
Moments later the dying man’s breathing stopped with a rattling noise and his eyes lost focus. At the same moment the hatred and desperation vanished, replaced with a look of apathy. His bladder evacuated causing a dark stain to spread across the front of his pants.
Orson stared at the body. “Huh. So that’s what it looks like. No big deal. We’ll have to toss this garbage out of an airlock, but I think I’ll look at him for a while first.” Then a scent struck his nose.
Orson gagged and Jace laughed.
“By the stars, I’ve changed my mind,” Orson said as he cycled the bridge hatch and slung the body into the access corridor.” He turned back to Jace, incredulous. “He shit himself.”
“The air handlers will kill the smell in a moment,” Jace commented as he pushed ship telemetry onto the main viewscreen.
Much of that was gibberish to Orson.
Strapping into the command station, the Schein’s new captain experimented with the holographic interface. It was intuitive, which made his task easier. The three other mutineers reported from the brig, everyone was inside and the hatch sealed. Satisfied his team was safe, Orson cut the lights ship-wide to emergency lighting only and locked all airtight seals.
Over the last few weeks his men had sabotaged the emergency breathers in most of the ship, at least those they could reach.
He altered the atmosphere in the crew compartments to seven percent oxygen. The reduction took over an hour. The bridge and brig remained at twenty percent.
“Leopold,” Orson said.
“Yes, Captain Orson?”
“Nullify all damage control override codes. I will issue new codes today.”
“Codes nullified,” the AI replied.
“Then make an announcement to the crew, alerting them that there has been a malfunction in life support and shipboard power,” Orson said. “Tell them to stay at their duty stations and prepare for further orders.”
“Is this a drill Captain?”
“Of course, but don’t put that in the announcement. This is a hot drill.”
“As you wish, Captain,” Leopold56 replied.
As oxygen levels fell, several sections called the bridge. Their calls were unanswered. He could see through the ship’s camera system crewmen trying their override codes, but hatches failed to open. They scrambled desperately, like ants in a fire, until they slumped over, one by one.
Orson cycled through the ship cameras, satisfied with his work. He brought up the oxygen content in one section at a time, and spoke to the groggy crew when they regained consciousness.
“This is your new commander, Captain Garrette Orson. I am giving you a choice. Life on the Schein as free men, or life under the heel of Sarah Dayson catering to the needs of the brainers.”
He paused to let that sink in before continuing, “You have a choice to make. With me you will have a world to call yours, and we will set aside our duties as combatants. We will find a place to call our own and colonize it. Are you with me, or are you cannon fodder for Dayson? The ship will be sorted one section at time. Those in my camp will return to work. The others will be escorted to cargo bay four, to be shuttled back to the Seventh Fleet at a later time.”
A lot of discontent boiled under the surface onboard the Schein since the incident at Fandama had almost crippled the ship. A fact that played into Orson’s hands
.
A lot of people joined the mutiny.
Orson smiled. “See Jace, I told you that the crew would tell Dayson to screw herself.”
“You know your people, Garrette… Captain Orson,” Jace replied. “What are we going to do with the marine barracks? The women have all been secured elsewhere, just the men left now. Those lunkheads are going to be pissed. They’re like fanatics since Gilbert died.”
“Why, we wake them up, of course.” Orson switched the camera to the barracks and raised the oxygen level to fifteen percent.
Marines were unconscious in their bunks, on the floor, or slumped at desks. They stirred in confusion as they regained consciousness.
“Attention fools. This is Garrette Orson. I have seized control of this vessel, and I wanted you to be conscious when I told you what I’m about to tell you.”
The men listened intently.
“I’ve never trusted marines. So you all must die.” Orson set the oxygen levels for the barracks to zero.
They attacked the locked airtight hatches. They battered them with chairs, desks, and heavier equipment. That used up what oxygen remained even quicker.
Orson watched as the dying men clutched at their remaining moments.
One by one they faded into stillness.
“What will we tell the crew happened to the marines?” Jace asked.
Orson tapped his holodisplay, recording the scene for posterity. “A tale of sadness. It looks like there was a malfunction while we were taking over the ship. Accidents happen when you’re trying to fight the good fight.”
Jace pursed his lips and nodded. “Casualties of war.”
“Obstacles to freedom,” Orson agreed.
Both men laughed.
Chapter 4 - Low Council
Mid Firstday
Eislen leaned against a marble pillar outside the Great Hall, watching the people. He noticed how the poor were invisible to most, even the priests. The average person was little better off, other than the vendors who considered them potential buyers. In the middle of it all walked wealthy adepts with their guards, tradesmen who’d amassed wealth, and the occasional priest who’d hit the donation chests too hard for his or her own benefit.
