“So I hear there is to be an interesting clash in the fighting pits of Dreslin Center tomorrow,” said Lady Selene as she delicately sipped the last of her soup. A stewardess swooped, and her soup dish vanished from the table.
“A twelve-year-old girl is to face a brute of a gladiator for the crime of healing the sick,” said Megara caustically. “There are no depths to which the barbarians will not sink.”
Lady Selene took a delicate bite of her soufflé.
“Precisely,” she said, pensively. “As you know, we are hosting the group of market women here for their immersion.” The Zon required all sisters to undertake a short one-day supervised visit to a barbarian city every three years to remind them of the superiority of the Zon civilization.
“One of the market women is Vivia Pragarina, the high mistress of the Trading Guild. She and her Guild Mistresses make so much money trading with the barbarians that they have been urging the Cabinet Council to allow them to widen their trading permits. They want to trade some strategic material to ‘suitable’ barbarians, like the Brigons.”
Megara snorted and said, “That’s treason!” Caitlin said nothing, but her lips compressed to a tighter line.
“It seems to me that this clash or execution provides us with a nice opportunity to enlighten our market women as to the essential danger of the barbarians. I want their immersion to be a trip to the fighting pit tomorrow. I’d like the two of you to form an escort of huntresses and take them there.”
Caitlin nodded. “I was planning to attend anyway as the Zon envoy on the Privy Council, taking the liberty of representing you,” she said. “If we are taking the market women, I’d like clearance to use an airboat.”
Lady Selene shook her head. “Too much power consumption,” she said. “Take a speeder for the market women and a squad of huntresses on horseback.”
She ate some more of her soufflé and smiled appreciatively. She inclined her head at the hovering stewardess and said, “Excellent, excellent. Please tell our chef.”
TWO
MEDICA DANNAE MARGELINA counted her thirty young charges as they entered the Zon Historical Museum and Flight Memorial. She wore a white cap with the blue cross of the Reproduction Institute, since all Zon medical personnel belonged to Repro. However, she was a Medical Corps officer serving on the airship Hydromeda, and the twined serpents health care insignia on her metal choker and wrist bracers had wings. She was one of the few Zon who had qualified both as a huntress and a priestess, gaining membership in both wings of the electrae, the highly selective Zon voting classes. The electrae as a whole comprised only eight percent of the Zon population, so Dannae’s status was very rare.
She was on shore leave and always spent part of it volunteering in the Zon state-run school system. She had a class of seven-year-olds today, freshly scrubbed in their pink uniform leotards. Soon I’ll have my own daughter in a class like this, she thought.
“Who can tell me what today is?” she called out.
“Women’s suff ’age!” “The anniversary of Zon zero!” “The end of the Dark Ages!” There was a chorus of responses.
Dannae laughed good-naturedly. “Of course, you are all right. It is the anniversary of when our foremothers achieved recognition as human beings. We sometimes don’t realize how lucky we are to be born in Modern Times. Follow me.”
They passed the reception desk, and Dannae’s details automatically flashed on the museum assistant’s viewscreen. She flashed her a smile and called out, “What class do you have today, Medica?”
“Junior School One,” Dannae replied, returning her smile. She glanced at the chronometric display on her wrist bracer. “We’ll see the holographic display. Can you sanitize it for the seven-year-olds?”
“No problem, Medica,” said the girl, still smiling. “The sooner they learn our history, the better. Will you take them to the Flight Memorial as well?”
Dannae nodded and led the children to the Holographic Chamber, which was on the same floor. It was an empty chamber with tiered cushioned seating on one side. They filed in, the girls chattering happily and giggling. They sat down and looked at Dannae expectantly.
“I am going to start the program, girls,” she said. “Some of what we will see will be very disturbing. But remember, it all happened a long, long time ago. No one can hurt you now—the huntresses will protect you.”
“We are the Zon Sisterhood, we protect our sisters,” they chorused in unison.
“We are going to begin by seeing the earliest times on our home planet of Eartha,” Dannae told them. She checked to make sure her wrist bracer had synced with the local controls and tapped it to start the display. The Zon circle-cross flag appeared during the introductory panning holograms, following which Atlantic City was shown from the air, and a pleasant female voice began to speak.
“The Zon civilization that we take for granted did not always exist. It is the outcome of thousands of years of struggle. Millions of our foremothers lived and died in the Dark Ages on our original home planet of Eartha. The Dark Ages are also called the Patriarchy, when men ruled. During these thousands of years, peace was rare, and the lot of humanity was characterized by war, famine, disease, and death. The male is a competitive creature that does not know the meaning of cooperation. Men fought and killed each other as they competed for power and dominance. Our foremothers suffered the worst ills during the millennia of the Patriarchy. Hard as it is to believe today, men forced all women to have penetrative sex. Rape was legal within so-called unions called ‘marriages.’ While forcible rape outside of marriage was technically illegal, these laws were rarely enforced. As the weaker sex, women were generally subjected to violence and often killed. Forced to bear children in primitive conditions, most women died young during pregnancy and labor.”
A girl put up her hand. “Why didn’t the huntresses punish the men?” she asked plaintively. Dannae froze the hologram.
“There were no huntresses then, darling,” said Dannae gently. “There was no one to protect our foremothers. They just suffered and died.”
They saw more, graphic images of wars and famines, of hungry children and beaten women. But everywhere, the women and girls were defiant; though beaten, they were depicted as unbowed. Many of the girls were upset, and several were crying. Dannae walked among them, comforting and cuddling them. The hologram dissolved and then re-appeared, again with an aerial view of Atlantic City. The melodious voice continued.
“For thousands of years, our foremothers were crushed by the brute strength of the male. The Patriarchy had scant respect even for their nurturing planet and desecrated her with fire, chemicals, and filth. Eartha herself groaned beneath the iron heel of men.”
They now saw scenes of tall chimneys belching thick, black smoke, blast furnaces, steam engines, and freeways full of automobiles.
“In spite of their pitiful condition, our foremothers fought for equality and for a voice in controlling their lives. Finally, by fostering education and learning in men, they slowly but certainly began to achieve positions within the Patriarchy. The historic day that we celebrate today is the Day of Women’s Suffrage, when our foremothers finally achieved the right to vote and be recognized as human beings. This is why it marks zero on our Zon calendar.”
There were holograms of women suffragettes chained to fences and then others of women in official roles—working in offices, in factories, in laboratories.
“This ushered in the Age of Transformation. Unchained, our foremothers made rapid progress, and in the short period of two hundred years, rose to become dominant within Eartha society. As women achieved more and more control, wars and strife declined dramatically.”
Holograms appeared depicting only women in positions of power and authority with men in subservient roles. But in contrast to the Dark Ages, the men were well treated and cared for.
“However, aggressive males still posed a serious problem for our foremothers. Their contributions were small compared to the costs
they imposed. Society struggled with the problem of undereducated, violent males.”
Several holograms now arose, showing men in acts of crime and violence.
“Eventually our foremothers decided that the burden on society imposed by aggressive males could no longer be borne. After a decades-long semen collection program, the Male Abortion Law was passed in the year 397. Henceforth the law required that all male fetuses be aborted. Over the course of the next century, men died out in Eartha society, bringing us into Modern Times and the flowering of the Zon Sisterhood. Queen Thetis the Great set up our glorious, meritocratic electoral system of huntresses and priestesses that celebrates female beauty in its physical and mental aspects.”
New holograms appeared, depicting scenes from everyday life on Eartha with no men in evidence. Tall huntresses climbing, sparring and hang-gliding appeared along with slim, scholarly priestesses in laboratories, hospitals, and schools.
“In the end, the damage done to the environment of Eartha over the thousands of years of the Patriarchy was too great. In spite of the best efforts of the Zon Sisterhood, the life-giving properties of the Eartha environment continued to degrade. By the year 500, it was clear that Eartha could not be saved as a planet supporting human life. Our foremothers devised an ambitious plan to emigrate from Eartha. Six huge starships were constructed and intensively tested over the period of a century. A rigorous selection procedure was instituted to select the best and brightest for emigration. Our foremothers were among the five thousand voyagers selected to emigrate on one of these starships, the Pentheselia, whose name lives on in our celebrated Pentheselia Legion of huntresses.”
Holograms appeared showing the selection of the voyagers and the orderly boarding of the massive starship.
“The Pentheselia was launched in the year 622, the year we commemorate as the beginning of the Great Voyage. We know that our foremothers were in hypersleep and the voyage lasted a long time. Eventually, the Pentheselia arrived in local orbit around Tarsus, as the barbarians call our home of New Eartha. While we cannot be sure, we estimate this arrival as the year 650. Unfortunately, during the auto-landing, the Pentheselia crashed, killing hundreds of the voyagers. The survivors gathered what they could salvage from the starship, most importantly, the Great Engine, which powers all of our society today. In this weak and vulnerable state, the local barbarians of New Eartha attacked the survivors, and some of them were killed or carried off into slavery. In these desperate times, they elected Queen Simran, who rallied them, fought off the barbarians, and organized the Long Trek to this high, impregnable mountain vale. Barely four thousand survived to establish the beginnings of what would become Atlantic City, named for the mythical female paradise of Atlantis.”
Holograms now depicted the rising of the walls and buildings of Atlantic City in fast motion, so that centuries of construction were compressed into a minute.
“Over a thousand years have passed since the Long Trek, and we Zon remain a tiny minority of the population of New Eartha, whose local peoples are sworn to our destruction. In spite of this, under wise and valiant queens like Good Queen Sonia and Caitlin the Unforgiving, we have conquered New Eartha and rule the planet through barbarian vassals. However, we remain committed to our Manifest Destiny of eradicating the barbarian Patriarchy and recreating Modern Times on New Eartha. So long as the Sisterhood remains strong under the guidance of our huntresses and priestesses, our numbers will grow and we will always defy our enemies. We will continue to enjoy the Zon way of life characterized by beauty, good health and longevity, freedom, choice, and plenty.”
The holograms slowly dissolved into the signature airborne depiction of Atlantic City and then finally the Zon circle-cross flag. The light panels came on slowly. The girls stood up and clapped enthusiastically and cheered. Within moments, they were chatting with each other excitedly, describing what they admired and what they would be when they grew up. Dannae put her hand up.
“Girls, girls,” she said loudly, clapping to get silence. “Let us give thanks to the Mother Goddess Ma for her bounty and for her protection of the Sisterhood.”
They all bent their heads, closed their eyes, and followed Dannae in reciting the psalm to the Mother Goddess, Ma. They recited from memory, since the psalm was in Artha-Pranto, the archaic precursor to the modern Zon language of Pranto.
O Goddess Ma! You are Omnipresent, Omnipotent, and Almighty.
You are all Beauty and all Knowledge and all Light.
You are the Destroyer of our enemies,
You are the Creator of the Universe.
You remove pain and sorrow and bestow happiness.
You are the Greatest of all.
THE FLIGHT MEMORIAL was in the same complex as the museum. Dannae led her charges two-by-two across the open central courtyard. They paused at the flagpole atop which fluttered the Zon circle-cross standard. After saluting the flag, they entered through two huge double doors, each at least ten meters high. They found themselves in a cavernous chamber hundreds of meters long and over fifty meters high. A few huntresses in combat gear lounged around, and one of them recognized Dannae and waved to her. Large as it was, the gigantic chamber was almost filled by the Great Engine. It was curved and featureless and surrounded by a meter-high barrier. Dannae led the children along the side of the barrier till about half way along it, she stopped at a large viewing port. She synced her wrist bracer with the local controls again and tapped it. A melodious female voice began:
“What you see before you is the Great Engine. It is the sole surviving engine of the starship Pentheselia that brought our foremothers to New Eartha. During the Long Trek, our emigrant foremothers brought the engine to Atlantic City using its own power—it is too big to be moved any other way. What you see is only a quarter of the engine itself. Another three quarters is below floor level. The power of the Great Engine is unimaginable. It supplies over ninety percent of the power used by the Zon Sisterhood. It runs on an ancient system called “cold fusion,” whose divine secrets have been lost to us. The only fuel it uses is hydrogen and the only byproduct of its power production is water.”
A video feed appeared, depicting a tall huntress in combat uniform. She stood in a harsh desert landscape beside a great white stallion. She had an unslung microwave disintegrator in her hands. It had just been fired as indicated by the black flash marks along the barrel and the soot stains on her face. She wore a combat helmet with the visor up. She spoke straight into the video, and each viewer felt as if her emotionless eyes were looking right into their soul.
“Hello! I am Cornelle Diana Tragina, commander of the Cohort of Palace Guardians. Out here in the field, power is the difference between life and death. It is the only thing that keeps us safe from the barbarian hordes.” She tapped the barrel of her weapon for emphasis. “And all our power, from the smallest battery pack to the enormous batteries that power our airships, comes from just one source—the Great Engine. So think carefully each time you use power. Don’t use it for frivolous pursuits! Don’t use a speeder when you can ride a horse. My own favorite way to get anywhere is on Hikon’s back.” She patted her horse’s neck. “Remember, wasting power endangers us all!”
As the voice trailed off, Dannae took over.
“Some of you may grow up to become priestesses serving the Great Engine,” she said seriously. “There is no greater service you can render the Sisterhood than that.”
A girl put her hand up. “Are those the sisters who are called the Engine Maidens?”
Dannae stopped, nonplussed. She was tempted to pass the buck and just say, It’s complicated. Your teachers will explain it to you. But that would be the easy way out, and Dannae was too upright to take it. She tried to think of a balanced way to put the issue in terms that a seven-year-old could understand.
“The Engine Maidens are a group of Zon who believe that the Sisterhood should recreate the Modern Times of Eartha as soon as possible on New Eartha. They believe it is the Manifest Destiny of
the Sisterhood to destroy all barbarian societies and replace them with the Zon civilization.”
Another hand went up. “But isn’t that what our government wants too?”
Dannae thought again. “The difference between the Zon government and the Engine Maidens is that we want to achieve global civilization on New Eartha peacefully. The Engine Maidens want war. And they want it right now.”
The girls looked her, wide-eyed. She saw that she had frightened them.
“Don’t worry, darlings,” she said lightly. “The Engine Maidens are a small sect, and they are exiled from Atlantic City and all the main Zon citadels. They depend on the government to recharge their batteries. They know that if they start a war, the government will cut off their power.”
The girls followed her out of the museum complex in a buzz of conversation. Dannae sighed inwardly. The Engine Maidens were few, but their ideology of war and extermination of barbarian males had a large covert following, especially among the non-voting commoners. She glanced back at them from time to time, wondering how many of her current charges had mothers who sympathized with the Engine Maidens.
Once on the sidewalk, Dannae stopped them and put her hand up again.
“Who wants a cream ice?” she asked playfully.
Their screams were answer enough. Dannae led them to her favorite open-air café, high on Schoolhouse Hill with a view over the high walls of the city into the surrounding vale and the snow-capped peaks that enclosed it on all sides. The Guard Castles that sat in all the high passes were visible in the distance, their beacons flashing the “Condition Normal” code.
She ordered cream ices for the girls and a mug of katsch, the thick, black, and sweet Zon stimulant, for herself. She was just blowing on her cup and taking her first sip when she felt a tap on her shoulder.
The Empire of the Zon Page 4
