Imperial Night

by Eric Thomson

  Stearn chuckled. “Then I’d best not walk into the refectory with a deck of cards after the evening meal.”

  “On the contrary.” She smiled again. “Playing games with skilled cue readers will help develop your ability to give off no signals whatsoever. Now, about the oath. Since you’ll learn the same mental skills as healers, you will take it as well and accept the prohibition imprint.”

  “Of course. Whatever you ask of me. Who knows what path I’ll take? Though I’m not currently inclined toward medicine or psychology, I might still enter one of those fields once you finish training me.”

  “One step at a time. First, we will see if your third eye will open. Not all of them can, and I don’t know why. Many believe a human’s soul looks out through it, and some souls would rather stay hidden.”

  “And the oath?”

  “At the proper moment. Before I imprint the prohibition, I must know it’s necessary by confirming you can reach out. We do not imprint a trainee’s mind lightly. Every intervention has risks.”

  “Should I be worried?” Stearn’s tone remained as calm and neutral as before.

  “No. But my fellow teachers and I always think of that tiny chance we might harm our students rather than help them. It keeps us grounded, fends off the vanity that plagues human beings, and ensures we stay humble before the Almighty. Too much pain comes from unthinking and ultimately unearned self-confidence.”

  “Yeah. We call that the arrogance of stupidity back home.”

  “How pithy. Are you prepared for this path?”

  “I am.”

  “Then let us begin.”

  — 31 —

  “I understand President Morane, upon the advice of the senate, has invited the Order to join the Estates-General.” Loxias, sitting across from Gwenneth in the latter’s office alongside Keleos, studied the Summus Abbatissa with an expectant air.

  “How did you hear of this? The matter is confidential unless I accept so that refusal doesn’t create ill will.”

  “Come now, Gwenneth, surely you realize that as the Order’s chief administrator, I’m well connected within the community.”

  “The Lyonesse Abbey’s chief administrator, Loxias.”

  He made a dismissive hand gesture.

  “Since the Lyonesse Abbey is the Order, I see no difference. Once we establish houses on other worlds, our successors can debate whether we should separate the post of motherhouse chief administrator from that of the Order. And if I may be so bold, accepting or refusing this invitation must be decided by the Council of Elders rather than you alone, since either choice entails wide-ranging consequences for every single Brethren.”

  Gwenneth understood he would force the issue if she didn’t put this matter before the council. She also knew a good many among the sisters and friars were in favor of joining the Estates-General. They wanted a direct voice on issues affecting the republic rather than rely on their abbess working through close friends, such as Jonas Morane. Besides, if Loxias and Keleos knew about the invitation, then they too were quietly working with close friends outside the abbey, in which case she might as well bring matters into the open.

  “Very well. I will convene the Council of Elders tomorrow after vespers, and we will debate the matter. If a majority are in favor, then so be it.”

  Loxias inclined his head in a gesture of respect.

  “Thank you, Abbess. We must secure our future within the republic, and this is the best way.”

  Gwenneth heard an unvoiced ‘for now’ at the end of his statement, but let it pass.

  When the council met the following evening, it was a foregone conclusion. The ten elders voted in favor after a perfunctory debate.

  “Our Summus Abbatissa will, of course, take the Order’s seat on the Estates-General,” Loxias said after they adopted the motion to join. “But under the rules, we must name an alternate and appoint at least two observers. I propose the three come from this council.”

  Gwenneth saw nothing but nods around the table and could predict what would come next.

  Keleos raised a hand and said, “I propose the chief administrator be the alternate.”

  Friar Sandor raised his hand as well. “Seconded.”

  “Does anyone want a vote?” Gwenneth asked. No one spoke. She looked at Loxias. “Do you accept?”

  “I do.”

  “Motion adopted. Friar Loxias will be my alternate until such a time as I retire or he steps down from the post of chief administrator, whichever comes first. To make sure the alternate is aware of all matters concerning the Estates-General, he will be an observer if he’s not replacing me.” Gwenneth was pleased when she saw a look of surprise cross his face. “Which means we will nominate two more observers and their alternates.”

  “I propose Sister Keleos and Friar Sandor as primary observers.” Loxias gestured toward his two principal followers, though he kept his eyes on Gwenneth so he could gauge her reaction.

  “Seconded,” she said before anyone else could speak. “Does anyone ask for a vote? No? Motion adopted. Sister Keleos and Friar Sandor will be the primary observers alongside Friar Loxias. The floor is open for proposals on the two alternates.”

  **

  “Your devious plan to stay one step ahead of Loxias and the Lindisfarne Brethren is failing.” Gwenneth dropped into her usual chair overlooking Vanquish Bay and accepted a cup of tea from Emma Reyes. She gave Morane a sideways glance. “Tomorrow morning, I will formally accept your invitation and join the Estates-General as representative of the Order of the Void after the council Loxias imposed on me voted unanimously in favor. He is my alternate and one of the observers, while the other observers are members of the Council of Elders, meaning Loxias supporters. I am no longer in full control of the abbey, it seems.”

  “At least not the part where it interfaces with the secular world.” He took a sip, eyes on the bay’s dark waters. Another storm was brewing on the horizon, but Morane figured it would stay away from land. The winds weren’t quite right, nor was it the season. “This is not exactly unexpected but cheer up. As the Order’s representative, you will control its interactions with the Estates-General.”

  “Until I’m no longer Summus Abbatissa.”

  “Which would have happened by now, had you not given way on declaring Lyonesse the motherhouse and agreed to imitate Lindisfarne by forming a Council of Elders. Some battles cannot be won. Wise people realize that sometimes the only course of action available is minimizing the consequences of a loss.”

  “Yet I fear for the Order if it gets too deeply embroiled in the republic’s politics. The invitation to join the Estates-General was almost certainly engineered by Loxias. I wonder what debts he now owes, either personally or as the abbey’s chief administrator.”

  “If you want, I could ask the intelligence service to find out.”

  “It’s probably best if I don’t know.”

  “As you wish.”

  Something in Morane’s voice caught Gwenneth’s attention.

  “You’ll do it anyway, won’t you?”

  “I suddenly feel an irresistible urge to find out who among the republic’s notables is schmoozing with Loxias, apart from Gerson Hecht and Severin Downes, that is.”

  “Pardon? Loxias is schmoozing with Hecht and Downes? I thought it was only a business thing.”

  “That’s what I’m told. He’s rather chummy with Hecht.” Morane gave her a knowing look. “Their relationship is longstanding, which is why Hecht’s companies and those of his closest friends are the abbey’s favored suppliers. Nothing corrupt or criminal that anyone can prove, but there’s a lot of backscratching. Loxias isn’t as friendly with Downes, which shows your wayward friar isn’t entirely without good judgment. But our dear friend Severin chairs the Hecht Industries board of directors and circulates in rarefied circles now that most forgot his brief stint in the Windies.”

  Reyes snorted dismissively. “Self-imposed amnesia, more like. The people in those rarefied
circles forget nothing, not even the cost of that drink they bought you thirty years ago in a seedy bar on the Lannion docks.”

  “That sounds a bit too personal.” Morane arched an eyebrow as he eyed his partner. “Is there anything about your life before we met you’d like to discuss?”

  She stuck out her tongue at him. “Figure of speech, Mister President. Don’t ask, don’t tell.”

  “You know about my previous loves. Me, not so much.”

  “Your previous love is in orbit right now, and you named this bay after her.” She gestured at the windows. “Big deal. The whole damned republic knows.”

  Gwenneth, seated between them, raised both hands. “Could you please save it for when I’ve retired to my room. We of the Order may not swear vows of chastity, but still...”

  “Sorry,” Reyes said, though her amused expression proved she was anything but contrite.

  Morane drained his cup and placed it on the low table in front of them.

  “Back to your situation. All I can suggest is work with what you have. Loxias forced the motherhouse issue, which resulted in a Council of Elders and a seat in the Estates-General. He’s fired his guns. What else can he demand?”

  She thought for a moment, then shook her head.

  “Nothing. This is as far as he can force us without entering unknown territory. We’ve taken on Lindisfarne’s mantle of leadership and accepted a seat on the third-highest council in the republic after the senate and the cabinet. A government influenced by the Order, let alone a theocracy such as the one running the Lindisfarne system during better times, shouldn’t come about. Yet, part of me fears we’ve not seen the end of this.”

  “Maybe, but our constitution is designed to prevent anyone from circumventing the will of the people. Let Loxias enjoy his time in the sun because whatever he does will be inconsequential in the grand order of things. He will eventually become a friar emeritus and spend his waning years meditating on the future of humanity across the Infinite Void.”

  “What worries me is the damage he can do between now and that blessed day, especially since he is younger than me and will stay active long after I relinquish the duties of an abbess. As for the future of humanity across the Infinite Void, I fear he meditates too much on the subject already. For him, the centuries between now and when the republic goes forth to reunite our species don’t exist.”

  “If I shared your faith, I would counsel that you trust in the Almighty’s plan. But since I don’t, would asking for your trust in the republic’s resilience assuage your worries?”

  “No.”

  — 32 —

  “Sister!” Morane stood to greet Gwenneth as she swept into a mostly empty Lannion Base Officer’s Mess. “We’re the first arrivals. Brigid, Adrienne, and the service chiefs will probably travel together from HQ. Can I offer you a drink while we wait for them?”

  “Thank you, but no.” The elderly abbess settled into a chair across from Morane. “I’ll save myself for a glass of that marvelous red Adrienne serves in the private dining room.”

  Morane raised a half-empty beer mug.

  “As you can see, I’m long past saving. How are things at the abbey these days? You haven’t visited Vanquish Bay in weeks, though I hear you attended the quarterly Estates-General session late last month.”

  “Things are quiet. As the old trope goes, they’re almost too quiet. Loxias was in his glory at the Estates-General, sitting behind me as an observer along with his closest acolytes, Keleos and Sandor. They behaved perfectly and even complimented me afterward on the few interventions I made when we discussed matters touching on the abbey’s services within the community. Vice President Sandino was quite effusive in welcoming me, as were those who I suspect influenced her into pushing for the invitation. Loxias seemed rather chummy with them, more than warranted by his interactions as our chief administrator.”

  “You recall not wanting to know who was behind it?”

  She nodded. “Of course.”

  “You do now, trust me. The Estates-General members who welcomed you so enthusiastically, including the trade unionists, lobbied Sandino. It wasn’t just the Hechts and Downes who saw an advantage in the Order taking on a higher profile.”

  A wry smile twisted her lips. “Why do I suddenly feel like I’m the only one who thinks greater involvement in secular matters isn’t a good idea?”

  “Because you survived Pendrick Zahar’s pogroms. I’m sure other Coalsack Sector survivors share your opinion.”

  “You may recall Friar Sandor, one of Loxias’ closest confidants, barely escaped the Mykonos Abbey massacre, so it’s hardly the lot of them.”

  Morane picked up his mug.

  “Time has a habit of changing one’s perspective. Besides, something good might come out of the Order sitting with the republic’s leading citizens four times a year.” He took a sip. “So long as it doesn’t indulge in the petty politicking that goes on behind the scenes.”

  “Oh, I assure you, we will stay aloof and keep our own counsel on matters that don’t touch the Order’s work.”

  A mischievous expression lit up Morane’s face. “Does Loxias know about that?”

  “Why? What’s he been doing behind my back?”

  “So far? Nothing that I heard of. You’re right, it is too quiet.” He saw five figures come through the front door, one in a business suit, the other four in uniform. “Our dinner companions are here.”

  Morane drained his mug, then stood, imitated by Gwenneth.

  “Good evening, Mister President, Abbess,” Defense Secretary DeCarde raised a hand in greeting. “I thought we’d go right through.”

  “Whatever you say, Brigid. We’re the guests here. And how are the republic’s top military leaders today?” Morane bestowed a fatherly smile on Lieutenant General Barca and the service chiefs.

  “In fine fettle, sir,” Barca replied. “As always. Thank you for coming.”

  “Gwenneth and I aren’t known for refusing a free meal. Nor is my close protection detail.” He nodded at a pair of tough-looking men in civilian clothes a few tables over.

  “It’s hardly free if we’re asking for your opinion and help on the sly,” DeCarde said over her shoulder as she led the way out of the main room and into the corridor beyond. “You’re our wise oracles.”

  Morane and Gwenneth exchanged amused glances.

  “Only because we survived this long without scandals.”

  “Then either you’re saints or experts at making the past vanish. I don’t really want to know which it is.”

  Once they were seated around the table with the wine served and a simple cold meal in front of them — Barca didn’t want interruptions from the mess staff while they spoke — DeCarde raised her glass.

  “Here’s to our continued good health in every sense.”

  After they took a sip, Morane asked, “Another plague ship incursion?”

  “Yes.” Nate Sirak nodded, a grim expression on his face. “Three hours ago. I found out just before leaving the office. Four ships. They bypassed Corbenic by crossing through interstellar space, just like the earlier attempts. Not unexpectedly, 2nd Squadron’s picket at the Broceliande end of the Lyonesse wormhole destroyed them. The mobile lab will go through the debris tomorrow, but there’s no doubt in my mind they enlarged their antimatter containment units, and we’ll find the people aboard were infected. But in keeping with the previous bypasses, those ships were low on fuel, judging by the anemic explosions when containment failed, so they’re not yet at a point where they can bypass Broceliande as well.”

  “But eventually, they’ll make it here.” DeCarde carefully set her glass on the table. “At this point, I recommend you announce that the Navy will withdraw from Corbenic, Mister President, making the inner picket in the Broceliande system our new Outer Picket, albeit reinforced now that Prevail has completed her shakeout cruise. We will, however, leave the traffic control buoys where they are. Whether we’ll replace them if they fail or are destr
oyed by reivers is still up for discussion.”

  “Agreed. I’ll issue the order in the morning,” Morane said. “I chose Lyonesse for the Knowledge Vault based on threats using the wormhole network. If they’re returning to interstellar FTL travel, time and distance be damned, then this system is no safer than any other.”

  “And we’re still no closer to a vaccine, nor do we know how long the plague takes to kill a person or anything about the survival rate. Lab-grown tissue only gets us so far.” DeCarde gestured at her plate. “Why don’t we dig in.”

  After her first few bites, she took a sip of wine and sat back.

  “The reason we’re here tonight is that I figure it’s time we discussed the unthinkable — plague ships reaching Lyonesse despite the Navy’s best efforts. We can’t watch this system’s entire heliopause, not even if the entire Imperial 16th Fleet was at our disposal.”

  “We’re concentrating our efforts on the area where ships inbound from Arietis are most likely to cross it,” Sirak said. “But that’s still a vast arc of space. It’s more than likely the first warning we’ll get is a reiver wolf pack appearing at Lyonesse’s hyperlimit, which gives us only a few hours to intercept and destroy them. The terrifying scenario is if they come close enough that wreckage covered with the virus enters our atmosphere and doesn’t fully burn up. True, seventy-five percent of the planet’s surface is ocean and icecaps, but that still leaves plenty of real estate.”