Imperial Night

by Eric Thomson

  “Viktor certainly likes the Order. The sisters and friars made his life as Health Secretary a walk in the park — inexpensive, devoted, and supremely capable doctors, nurses, psychologists, and orderlies. What’s not to like? I wouldn’t be surprised if your people were onto something.”

  “Could be. Arko doesn’t worry me much. He’s competent and smart, even if he’s not one of your fans or a fan of senior military people in general. He spent enough time traveling around the empire as a young naval surgeon to have seen the worst of the old Imperial Armed Services. I’m mostly concerned about the undisputed fact someone is backing newcomers — other than the Chamber of Commerce grandees, I mean — but they’re careful, and they’re using Loxias’ Lindisfarne Brethren. Whether it’s via mind-meddling,” DeCarde held up a restraining hand, “I know, you don’t believe they do that, or simply by hinting that the organization basically running the republic’s health care system is tacitly endorsing certain candidates.”

  “The Void Brethren are full citizens of the republic. They can take part in any lawful activity, including politics.”

  DeCarde made a face at him. “Easy for you to say, once the next session of the Lyonesse Senate votes in a new president, you no longer need to worry about mind-meddlers working their way into government corridors. Unless the Loxias faction decides it’s interested in running the future Defense Force Command and Staff College.”

  A thin smile appeared on Morane’s lips. “I am contemplating an annual security studies course that brings together senior folks from various parts of the republic, including the Order of the Void.”

  “Fortunately, I’m beyond attending that sort of training.”

  “But not beyond teaching.”

  “Recruiting faculty already?”

  “It’s never too early. Reginus Bryner signed up, sight unseen, as did Matti Kayne and Elenia Yakin. Since I figure you won’t stick around as Defense Secretary under whoever succeeds me, and you’ve not yet cleared land for a garden on your property...”

  “Perish the thought. We Marines have a red thumb, not a green one. Fine. I volunteer. Is there anything you’d like intelligence to focus on concerning the election?”

  “Keep an ear to the ground and an eye on the perimeter. The electoral commission will make sure everything is honest.”

  “Could you speak with Gwenneth and see if she might rein in the budding political backroom operators in her flock?”

  “I already did, and she told me the same thing I told you. The Void Brethren are full citizens of the republic with all the rights and responsibilities that entails, including the right to vote, and they don’t meddle in the minds of others. The sisters are empaths, yes, but that means they’re on receive only, and only for medical purposes.”

  “It’s not the sisters I worry about, but Friar Stearn. I swear he peeked into my mind during the Chamber of Commerce meeting a few weeks ago.”

  “He’s no different from the sisters and can’t actually read your thoughts, though he will pick up on your distrust of his sort. The Brethren are the keenest students of human behavior you’ll ever meet.”

  “And that’s not creepy in itself?”

  “You play poker. The best players are just as keen to refine their understanding of human behavior.”

  She gave him an exasperated grimace. “You always find a plausible answer for everything. I guess that’s why you’re the president.”

  “It certainly isn’t because of my good looks.”

  “I’m sure Emma would disagree.”

  “Let’s not go there.” Morane glanced at the ancient clock on his office sideboard and stood. “Besides, it’s time we head for the cabinet room.”

  “Saved by the bell,” a clearly unrepentant DeCarde replied with a mischievous grin as she imitated him.

  — 43 —

  “Loxias, Stearn, thank you for coming. I wanted you to meet an old family friend who might come out of retirement after the senate elections.”

  Gerson Hecht invited the friars into his mansion with a sweeping arm gesture. The sun was setting over Lannion after another warm, muggy day. Still, here on the heights above the capital where many of the republic’s wealthiest citizens owned sprawling estates, the air seemed lighter and less redolent of the Middle Sea. If Hecht noticed that Stearn preceded Loxias into the marble-floored foyer rather than the other way around, he gave no sign.

  Stearn smiled at Hecht.

  “Thank you for inviting us, Gerson. We’re honored.”

  “I felt it was time. Our guest of honor had been the Order’s friend ever since his days as Health Secretary and doesn’t much like our current president or his policies, which makes his return to public life an opportunity none of us can afford to waste.” Hecht glanced at Loxias, who so far hadn’t said a word. “You might remember him from Elenia Yakin’s time as president — Viktor Arko.”

  A smile split Loxias’ beard.

  “A friend of the Order indeed. I never met him but know his reputation as Lyonesse’s foremost and longest-serving health administrator. Gwenneth holds him in high esteem.”

  “No doubt.” Hecht led them through a broad, carpeted corridor whose walls were covered with art — paintings, prints, and other reproductions of ancient pieces that probably didn’t survive the empire’s demise. “I know he respects the abbess for her dedication to serving the community.”

  They entered an expansive salon where two dozen men and women stood in clusters, conversing, drinks in hand, shunning the sofa and easy chair groupings. Panoramic windows overlooked a star system capital lighting up for the rapidly oncoming subtropical night. Stearn could even spy the far end of the Lannion Base tarmac out of a corner. But where grounded Void Ships sat the day he arrived almost two years earlier, he saw nothing more than an expanse of gray concrete, underscoring the Navy’s assertion all available ships were in space, on the lookout for intruders.

  Most of the conversations trailed off as eyes turned on the bearded, black-robed friars who stopped and politely bowed at the other guests. Stearn recognized all of them save for one man in his late sixties. Tall, lean, with close-cropped gray hair and intense dark eyes, he dominated the room with his mere presence.

  “Viktor, these are Friars Loxias and Stearn, two of our best friends inside the Order. Loxias is the chief administrator and, therefore, the abbess’ de facto second in command. Stearn is Loxias’ understudy, destined for the chief administrator’s mantle in due course.”

  Arko didn’t offer his hand, although he nodded.

  “A pleasure. Gerson told me of your commitment to help elect senators who believe the republic’s administration needs urgent changes in the face of an increasingly perilous galaxy.”

  “We of the Order must play our part in ensuring Lyonesse will one day venture forth and reunite humanity’s other survivors,” Stearn replied. “Between them, our abbess and President Morane keep us on the sidelines, but that must end.”

  “A good thing Morane’s time is almost over, and to think he knee-capped himself by insisting on term limits for elected officials when we drew up our constitution.” Arko’s tone was even and unemotional, but Stearn’s finely-tuned ears picked up more than a hint of sarcasm.

  “Gwenneth’s time will end soon enough as well. She is a prisoner of the past, and an increasing number of Brethren are looking to the future.”

  “Gerson told me you might become the Order’s first abbot. Will you be taking Gwenneth’s place?”

  Stearn shook his head. “I’m still too young and too new, but our next abbess will be a sister who shares our views. May I assume you will vie for the presidency?”

  “That’s what my friend Gerson wants.” Arko nodded at Hecht.

  “Viktor would make a fine president, and if it weren’t for Jonas Morane taking such an outsized role in Lyonesse affairs before his nomination, I daresay we’d both be speaking with President Arko right now.”

  “I suppose it was rather inevitable that the
savior of Lyonesse would take over from our beloved Elenia, who I’m sure, had no involvement with Morane’s political elevation.” This time, the sarcasm in Arko’s voice was noticeable.

  “He got two terms,” Loxias said. “I’m sure she wasn’t stumping for him both times.”

  “A politician who doesn’t trip over his own feet generally gets re-elected around here, Friar. Voters by and large are rather lazy and would rather not take the time to scrutinize candidates. They operate under the principle that the devil you know is always more attractive than the one you don’t. It’s among the reasons why we have term limits, one of the few things Morane pushed for that I like. In any case, it was a pleasure meeting you. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

  With that, Arko wandered off and joined a small cluster of senatorial candidates by the windows. After pointing at a buffet table covered with finger food and groaning under the weight of countless alcohol bottles, Hecht joined him.

  “There’s a man who didn’t leave public life voluntarily,” Stearn murmured, “which explains his dislike of Morane.”

  Loxias nodded.

  “Yes. I daresay Viktor Arko was hoping he’d replace Yakin only to see his ambitions thwarted by Morane’s popularity. Offering himself up for nomination now and erasing Morane’s legacy would be a fitting revenge.”

  As they helped themselves to the buffet, Stearn opened his third eye and reached out for Arko’s mind, hoping he’d find someone as malleable as Loxias and the preferred senatorial candidates, people susceptible to his influence. But he didn’t enter it for fear of triggering a reaction. Best to study the inner man from a distance first.

  Arko’s mind seemed as calm and self-possessed as the man appeared to the naked eye. Yet, it also felt hard, brittle, with little depth, much like Gerson Hecht or some of the Supermax inmates on Changu Island, those whom Amelia called soulless. It was a strange thing for a medical doctor and philanthropist. However, of greater interest was the fact he showed no evidence of mental shields. It meant he could touch Arko’s mind.

  “What chances do you give him?” Stearn asked his nominal superior.

  “Fairly good, I’d say. He’s a well-known quantity even among incumbent senators, and he has more charisma than Charis Sandino, the only other serious contender. Should he become president, we’ll have a friend and ally at the very heart of Government House.”

  Stearn snorted softly. “Friend? No. He doesn’t strike me as a man who has friends, although he most certainly can make people think otherwise.”

  Loxias gave him a strange look. “What do you mean?”

  “I would venture that while Viktor Arko is a talented actor, a good manipulator, and a highly intelligent man, he cares little for others.”

  “You peeked at his mind.”

  “Yes, and if you believe there is such a thing as a soul, then I’m afraid I didn’t find one. That doesn’t make him evil. It merely means any empathy he shows will be feigned. He’ll be our ally as long as we’re useful, but never our friend. If he praised the Brethren during his tenure as Health Secretary, it wasn’t because of friendly feelings.”

  Loxias chuckled. “One might almost think Marta trained you as a counselor. Well done. Now we must figure out how we make ourselves useful to the future President Arko in ways that transcend the Order’s usual good works for the community.”

  “I can think of a few ways which don’t necessarily involve divulging too much about my abilities. But this is neither the time nor the place.”

  “Of course.”

  Stearn waved his wine glass toward the other guests. “Shall we mingle?”

  **

  “As expected, reaction to your laying out what would happen in case of a barbarian incursion that reaches Lyonesse orbit has been mixed,” Morane’s public affairs director said after taking a seat in front of the presidential desk. “The majority consensus is in favor of strong action to save lives, though with concern about how long you’ll suspend civil liberties. But a surprising number of people find the administration’s plans objectionable, fearing a permanent loss of freedom which would transform the republic into a miniature version of the Ruggero dynasty’s empire.”

  “Even though I made it clear the law prevented me from imposing emergency conditions longer than thirty days without a two-thirds approval by the senate.” He shook his head. “Wasn’t I explicit enough in stating I won’t even consider prolonging it beyond what’s necessary under the circumstances, which might be a few days at most?”

  “Either the objectors don’t trust you, or they didn’t listen, never mind read the notification we sent every citizen afterward. More interesting are the prominent people among the objectors who decry a further militarization of the republic, such as former Health Secretary Viktor Arko.”

  Morane sat up. “Arko? He hasn’t voiced an opinion in almost twelve years.”

  “True, but word on the street is that he’s shown interest in presenting himself as a candidate for the presidency once your administration stands down after the elections.”

  Morane cocked an eyebrow. “Does word on the street give him favorable odds?”

  “Too early to tell, Mister President. Viktor Arko only waded into the electoral discussion in the last twenty-four hours.”

  “Anything else?”

  “No, sir. The written report will be on your reader by now.”

  “Thank you, Marc.”

  The public affairs director rose, dipped his shaved head, turned on his heels, then left the presidential office.

  Morane swiveled his chair around and gazed out the window at the back lawn and the Haven River’s broad, lazy expanse beyond it. If truth be told, he was looking forward to retiring as president after twelve years and doing something else. His tolerance for idiots was dramatically decreasing as his second term wore on, and he was encountering an ever-growing number of them. Standing up a Command and Staff College for the Defense Force was just the ticket for a satisfying life after politics, one which would still serve the republic for many more years.

  If only he could finish his time as president without further incident.

  — 44 —

  “Stearn, Loxias, good day. Please come in.” Gerson Hecht’s welcoming smile didn’t extend to his watchful eyes as he greeted the friars at the entrance of the private club in downtown Lannion where he’d assembled the senatorial candidates he and his faction supported. Their role was cheering when Arko officially announced he would accept a nomination as president from the next senate. “Viktor isn’t here yet, but we expect him momentarily.”

  They quickly exchanged greetings with each of the attendees, then Hecht’s amplified voice smothered dozens of low-key conversations.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the man who we hope to call Mister President after the upcoming elections, Viktor Arko.”

  Enthusiastic applause broke out when Arko strode across the low stage, smiling and nodding as if he considered the plaudits his due. He stopped to face the audience and waited until a rapt silence settled over the room.

  “My friends, thank you for the warm welcome. How about we get the formalities over with and then chat about what’s going on in our beloved republic these days, yes?” He paused when a chorus of ‘yeas’ erupted from the crowd. “Let’s do this. I, Viktor Arko, hereby propose myself as nominee once the next senate convenes and elects a new president.”

  Roars of approval underscored by applause even more exuberant than before greeted his announcement. After almost two minutes by Stearn’s inner clock, Arko raised both arms, and the noise quickly faded away. During that time, the friar let his mind brush those of the people around him, and he tasted energy, ambition, eagerness, and warm regard for the man on the stage.

  “I need not tell you about my qualifications for the highest office in the republic, nor go on at length about my achievements. Everything is public knowledge, and you’ll agree I’m as good a candidate as President Morane’s heir presumptive an
d the current favorite for the presidency, Charis Sandino. But Charis and I don’t hold the same views, nor do we espouse the same philosophies, and therefore the next senate must choose wisely. Charis will continue in the same vein as Jonas Morane and Elenia Yakin. She’ll espouse a militaristic republic focused on building a mighty faster-than-light warship fleet. Under her leadership, Lyonesse will become an impregnable autarky, closed to the rest of humanity. She’ll keep our most precious jewel, the Knowledge Vault, under military control rather than hand this legacy over to the people.”

  Stearn reached out mentally and filled what passed for Arko’s soul with a feeling of love and respect for the Order, though he knew violating another’s inner being in such a manner would come at a cost.

  “And she will keep some of our most valuable citizens from participating fully in the republic’s political life. I speak of our friends the Void Brethren.” Arko made a sweeping arm gesture toward Stearn and Loxias as he beamed. “No, we cannot allow the republic to continue as before. Especially now that President Morane has made his intentions clear by announcing he would impose martial law if ever intruders came within sublight distance of Lyonesse. Does anyone doubt Charis Sandino will keep that same policy in place if she succeeds him? Make no mistake, the mere act of considering martial law endangers our hard-won liberties. We don’t want to become a new empire in all but name, do we?”

  Shouts of ‘no’ filled the air.

  “Then let us pray no intruders, real or imagined, show up between now and when the next senate votes for change in a few short weeks. I know Jonas Morane and Charis Sandino are honorable and want nothing but the best for the republic, but the allure of power is irresistible, which is why our constitution wisely sets inviolable term limits. Yet those limits can be ignored if parts of the constitution are suspended during a state of emergency and we know human history is replete with endless emergencies kept alive purely for political motives and not the welfare of the citizenry. If I become president, I will see our constitution is amended so an administration can no longer declare martial law without the consent of the senate.”