by Eric Thomson
“My agenda isn’t particularly full these days, and I always enjoy the brief walk here from Government House. Besides, my close protection detail can use the exercise. They spend way too much time sitting.” He dropped into a chair facing both women. “Now, what is it that couldn’t wait until my regular Friday night visit to the Officers’ Mess?”
“Information from the abbey that will stun you.”
“Gathered by the Intelligence Company’s irregulars among the university student body, no doubt?”
Barca nodded.
“Indeed. The Brethren are keeping a lid on word spreading beyond the abbey walls, but Gwenneth faces a formal leadership review in a few days.”
An air of disgust crossed Morane’s face. “Loxias and those infernal Lindisfarne Brethren, am I right?”
“You are. That they found enough support to force a leadership review worries us.”
“A shame they’re attacking the woman whose force of character pulled them through those tough, early years on Lyonesse. But Gwenneth will soon turn ninety, and as I mentioned a few weeks ago, dealing with political shenanigans is taking a toll. I’m not convinced she was overly pleased when they reappointed her the last time.” Morane shrugged. “At this point, the leadership review is an internal matter for the Order alone and none of our business. But if a sister from the Lindisfarne Brethren replaces Gwenneth and shows more than just a passing interest in secular politics, we’ll pay close attention.”
“Our thoughts precisely,” DeCarde said. “We can’t let mind-meddlers interfere with the proper governance of the republic as mandated by our constitution and the will of the people.”
“I doubt it’ll go that far. None of the Brethren who came to Lyonesse from other parts of the old empire ever served in the Lindisfarne star system government. The Order as it is here, today, has no institutional memory of running anything more than a monastic house.”
Barca made a dubious face. “Not having an institutional memory doesn’t exclude yearning for a return to a more glorious past.”
“They should round up those troublesome friars and make them build a monastery on Isolde,” DeCarde grumbled. “That would take care of their ambitions and yearnings.”
“At least they stopped recruiting male postulants. Other than reformed exiles, that is, and they don’t count since they’ll never leave the Windies, meaning the problem will eventually solve itself when the surplus retires or passes on.”
DeCarde scoffed. “But in the meantime, Loxias and his crew can cause a lot of mischief. What’s the old saying? Idle hands are the devil’s workshop? Ironic, isn’t it.”
“Only if the Brethren choose an abbess who’s under the man’s thumb should they vote Gwenneth out, and if I’ve learned anything about the Order of the Void over the years, it’s that the sisters are in charge, period. The friars make sure the abbey and the priories function on a day-to-day basis. They don’t make policy, let alone decide what path the Order takes.”
“Yet the friars governed an entire star system and might still do so if Lindisfarne survived the empire’s collapse,” DeCarde pointed out.
“Under the overall direction of the Order’s Summus Abbatissa, who laid out the colonial government’s policies.”
A smirk twisted her lips. “You’re determined to make us think this leadership review isn’t a big deal, aren’t you?”
“Because it’s not a big deal for anyone outside the Order. Yet. But I think I’ll speak with Gwenneth nonetheless, though she won’t thank me for prying into abbey affairs.”
“That’s what we hoped you might do.”
Morane cocked an amused eyebrow at DeCarde.
“You want Gwenneth to reassure us the republic is not in danger of a theocratic takeover? I doubt the abbey’s policy of sticking to spiritual matters and good works in the community will change. But I’ll suggest the Order consider establishing a friars-only house on Isolde. If nothing else, she might find humor in the idea.”
“Thank you. I’ve never trusted the mind-meddlers. For the longest time, they didn’t confirm rumors sisters can sense the emotions of others, the reason they’re sisters in the first place. What else did they not tell us? Imagine a world where their sort can influence politicians with no one being the wiser.” DeCarde shook her head.
“We already live in that world, Brigid. Except they’re called lobbyists who use flattery, favors, and donations to influence policy, which is mind-meddling of another sort.” He winked at her. “While I’m here, anything new on Standfast?”
“She’s what we wanted and more. The shakeout cruise has brought no major issues to light. Minor ones, sure, but that’s normal. Hecht Aerospace did a superb job.”
“They also received a superb payment. When’s her first wormhole transit?”
“Tomorrow,” Barca replied.
“Hopefully, it will go smoothly. Maiden wormhole transits have a way of making design flaws glaringly obvious. Still, since she already pushed into the upper in-system FTL bands during her shakeout, they know about hidden problems, especially those related to hull integrity.”
“They red-lined her three days ago on two ten-hour jumps. No issues.”
“Then I’d say that’s a good omen.”
**
“How did you find out? Or should I not ask?”
“About what?” Morane gave Gwenneth a penetrating stare as she slipped into the booth across from him. He’d invited her for a late lunch after leaving DeCarde’s office, and she, like Morane, was a lifetime member of the Lannion Base Officers’ Mess. In her case, it was for services rendered as the first Defense Force Chaplain General in the republic’s early days.
“The leadership review.” She glared at him. “Why else would you ask me here with no warning on a random Wednesday? Normally, you wait for one of my weekend escapes from the abbey to question me about private matters concerning the Order.”
“Guilty as charged, Summus Abbatissa.”
The despair that briefly crossed Gwenneth’s face made her seem twenty years older for a fleeting moment. “Please, Jonas. Not you too.”
“Little remains secret for long on Lyonesse. It may be a big planet, but our human community isn’t much more than an overgrown village by comparison. Yes, I invited you so we could talk about the leadership review Loxias and the Lindisfarne Brethren rammed through. Some of us wonder what it means for the future of the Order vis-à-vis the republic.”
“Well, thank you for coming straight to the point, Jonas.”
If Morane didn’t know better, he’d think her tone and words held a sharp edge of exasperation.
“We’ve been friends for too long, Gwenneth. Anything less than complete honesty between us would be improper.” He nodded at the buffet table. “Shall we fetch our meal before discussing the matter?”
She inclined her head. “Certainly, though thinking about Loxias is doing wonders to keep my calorie intake down these days.”
They sampled the remaining cold dishes moments before the mess staff, who’d been waiting for the president and his guest, closed the buffet now that the midday meal hour was over.
Gwenneth took a bit of smoked fish and let out an appreciative if soft groan. “I really should send the abbey cooks here for a stint so they could learn from the mess’ head chef.”
Morane snorted. “You say that almost every time we sample the mess cuisine, but we’re still waiting for you to act on the notion.”
“Mostly because my cooks would mutiny if I even hinted they weren’t as skilled as their military equivalents.”
“And yet you face a mutiny nonetheless, or something similar.”
She let out a heartfelt sigh. “Loxias and his faction are acting under the Order’s Rule. I cannot deny them the leadership review because they drummed up enough support among the Brethren. There’s no mutiny involved.”
“Figure of speech. They don’t like your policies, and since you won’t change them, they’ll remove you. That’s n
ot much different from a mutiny in the naval sense. Of course, your lot is doing it under a cloak of legitimacy, however thin, because of the Order’s Rule.”
“Contrary to the Defense Force, the Order of the Void is a limited democracy where the rank and file can remove their general or admiral with a simple vote. My opponents will make their case before the assembled community, I will present my rebuttal, and the Brethren will decide.” She put down her fork and sat back. “Frankly, I’m not even sure I can find the energy to oppose Loxias. I’ve been abbess longer than most I’ve seen in my decades with the Order. Retirement is increasingly appealing. I could easily spend the rest of my life in quiet contemplation, perhaps occasionally helping the teachers and, if asked, be a wise elder and counsel my younger sisters.”
“You’re in excellent health. That retirement could easily turn into thirty years without a firm purpose. A quarter of your lifespan.”
Gwenneth chuckled.
“Irony, thy name is Jonas. I could say the same about you. Except you’re younger than I am and could easily face forty or fifty years without a firm purpose once your term is up. I suppose it’s tragic in the sense that you entered the highest office in the republic at a relatively young age. You’ve nowhere left. Sure, you could make a post-retirement career offering your wisdom to whoever asks, but let’s face it, most would find the prospect overly intimidating. You are the father of the sacred Knowledge Vault and the man who made sure Lyonesse survived the empire’s demise.”
“Granted. But we’re speaking about you and the Order’s future, not me. Besides, I’m in discussions with Brigid DeCarde and Adrienne Barca to create a Defense Force Command and Staff College after the next election.”
“Don’t worry about me, let alone the abbey. Yes, we’re blessed with a greater proportion of friars than is usual, which accounts for the restlessness of the most ambitious, since there aren’t many senior leadership positions open to men. But sisters still outnumber friars by a wide margin, and I daresay a plurality, if not a majority, are content with the status quo. My ouster as abbess is far from being a certainty.”
“Good to hear. But I worry about what might happen if a sister who agrees with Loxias replaces you, whether next week or in ten years. And I’m not alone. If your friars become involved in politics, things might turn sour between the republic and the Order because you’ll be suspected of using your secretive and mystical talents to influence government policy.”
A sigh escaped Gwenneth’s thin lips.
“I know, and I remember Pendrick Zahar’s destruction of the Order in the Coalsack Sector on suspicion of involvement with imperial authorities, as do the others who survived. But by now, the Brethren rescued from other sectors or who joined on Lyonesse outnumber us. I’ve made that point to Loxias and his closest followers, without much success. I’ll make it again when I face the entire community at the leadership review. After that, it’ll be in the Almighty’s hands.”
“Trust in his plan, is that it?”
She raised a restraining hand. “I had that very discussion with Katarin yesterday, and I’m not in the mood for a repeat.”
“Fair enough. If the Brethren declare Lyonesse the Order’s motherhouse and make you the Summus Abbatissa, that’s an internal matter which doesn’t concern the republic. I’ll send you my official congratulations. But since you’re already invited to major state events as it is, taking on the title of top abbess won’t change anything with the way the citizenry regards you or the Order.”
“Loxias wants more than that. He wants the abbess to sit on councils of state as a co-equal with the cabinet and the legislature.”
“Of course he does and it wouldn’t surprise me if he found supporters both within the government and among certain segments of the population.”
A frown creased Gwenneth’s forehead. “Why?”
“The Order has a lot of admirers out there who wouldn’t think twice about giving it a greater say in how the republic is run. And some people are still unhappy our constitution established a unicameral legislature whose members aren’t beholden to political parties. That makes it harder for special interests who want to influence policies and legislation behind closed doors so the voters can’t overhear them. Adding a player would give those special interests another avenue of approach. I’m sure the Order of the Void isn’t immune to a bit of friendly backscratching. I’ll wager one of your predecessors negotiated quite an understanding with the reigning emperor and his government when they gave her the Lindisfarne star system, and it probably wasn’t spiritual in any way, shape, or fashion.”
“Then what can I do?”
“Ever read a little book written about four thousand years ago by a Chinese general called Sun Tzu?”
— 24 —
“All hands now hear this. Prepare for wormhole transit in five minutes. I repeat, prepare for wormhole transit in five minutes. That is all.”
Lieutenant Stefan Norum switched off the public address system and sat back while his eyes sought out the holographic tactical projection dominating Standfast’s bridge. At its heart, two blue icons were rapidly nearing the orange disk that marked the wormhole’s event horizon. One represented the corvette, while the other marked her constant companion since the beginning of the shakeout cruise, the Republic of Lyonesse Starship Dawn Seeker. The latter was now part of the Navy’s 1st Squadron after General Barca suspended the Void Ship program for an indefinite period.
Dawn Seeker fulfilled two purposes. The first was as Standfast’s safety in case she suffered severe problems and required outside help or, the Almighty forbid, evacuation, while the second was acting as a telemetry station and reporting on the corvette’s performance as seen by an outside observer.
Norum’s ears picked up a door opening behind him and turned around, knowing it would be Lieutenant Commander Lisiecki. The door leading to the captain’s day cabin made a slightly different whisper than the main entrance.
“Systems are green, sir. Dawn Seeker is synced and ready to cross the event horizon in tandem with us.”
Lisiecki dropped into the throne-like command chair behind the navigation and helm stations and rubbed his hands with gleeful anticipation that was only partially feigned.
“This is where a starship meets the true Void.”
Norum, who wasn’t quite as skilled as his captain at disguising a twinge of apprehension, nodded enthusiastically.
“The third and last of Standfast’s three baptisms. Finally.”
“She’s done better than expected so far, Number One. Her first wormhole transit should be as boring as it is momentous in the Republic of Lyonesse’s naval history.”
“It would be equally momentous if the Void swallowed us,” Chief Petty Officer Husam Bracker, Standfast’s coxswain and her helmsman for the first wormhole transit, said, grinning at Norum over his shoulder. “We might find out whether it’s true that wormholes are direct conduits to the Almighty.”
“Let’s concentrate on using wormholes as shortcuts between star systems, shall we?” Lisiecki gave the coxswain his best ‘I’m not amused’ look.
“Aye, aye, sir. A shortcut we shall take.”
The timer in the lower right corner of the primary display ticked away the minutes and seconds with inexorable precision and Lisiecki could feel the tension on the bridge. Every spacer knew ancient tales of malfunctioning starships entering a wormhole and vanishing forever, stories so old no one could dredge up examples, let alone names. Even the Navy’s exhaustive database, which held centuries of imperial history, contained no records of vessels lost in such a manner. Lisiecki had checked. Of course, that didn’t mean it never happened. At the height of the empire’s glory, the entirety of human shipping must have made over a million crossings each year, not all of them between systems with operational traffic control infrastructures.
“All hands now hear this — wormhole transit in one minute. I repeat — wormhole transit in one minute. That is all.”
&nb
sp; The two blue icons in the tactical hologram were already touching the orange disk. For Dawn Seeker, which was older than anyone in Standfast, it would be just another plunge into a tunnel connecting star systems dozens of light-years apart, one of hundreds during a long career in service of both the Order of the Void and the Republic of Lyonesse.
Lisiecki realized he was clenching his fists and forced himself to relax. In a few seconds, the wormhole would draw them in. Once that happened, no one aboard could control what came next. They would come out on the other side in eight hours, or they wouldn’t.
“Crossing the event horizon in three, two, one,” Bracker intoned.
The universe turned into a pretzel of psychedelic colors that threatened to burn a hole through Lisiecki’s brain, but the sensation vanished as quickly as it had come on.
“Status.”
“Systems are nominal,” Norum reported after a few seconds. He glanced at the primary display. Where they’d seen stars moments earlier, there now was nothing but unrelieved black. “We are transiting as per normal parameters.”
Lisiecki, who’d joined the Navy over twenty years ago and served on two Void Ship expeditions, knew in his bones everything was right, that his ship felt right. He nodded.
“Excellent. I expected nothing less. You have the bridge, Number One. I’ll be in my quarters.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
**
“A few things knocked loose, but nothing we can’t fix with a turn of the wrench,” Lieutenant Padraig Younis, Standfast’s chief engineer, reported once he finished surveying the corvette after she emerged from the wormhole on the Broceliande end. “She’s working as designed.”
“How long before we—”
Lisiecki’s communicator chirped for attention. “Bridge to the captain.”
He tapped it. “Captain here.”
“Officer of the watch, sir. Sensors are picking up three hyperspace trails aimed at the wormhole terminus. If this is their destination, they’ll drop out of FTL in no more than ten minutes.”
