by Chris Walley
“My lord, in you we see the infinite.”
Suddenly, Nezhuala tilted his head slightly as if listening to something. He nodded, as if agreeing, and whispered some inaudible words. Then he turned to Lezaroth. “Excuse me. Some of the lesser powers wanted to speak to me.”
At a gap in the line of the totems the lord-emperor turned left and led the way through more shadowy figures into an open space. In the middle of the space was a weird, high-backed chair made, it seemed, out of many twisted, pale bones.
“Take the seat, Margrave.”
Lezaroth, already tense, now found himself in a high state of alarm. But there was nothing to be gained by refusing, so he sat. The chair gave slightly under his weight. He was aware of a strange, unpleasant smell. A glance around showed ominous, dark stains on the floor slabs. Another glance showed that the statues all around were open-mouthed.
The alarm gave way to fear.
The admiral sat down on a stone bench not far away to his right. His hunched posture and pale, troubled face suggested a deep concern.
The lord-emperor stood before Lezaroth. “I need to talk to you, Margrave, about several things. But first . . .” He made an odd fluid movement with his hands.
In an instant, Lezaroth found himself immobilized.
Don’t panic! Analyze! But terror was not far away. A trick of extra- physical forces. He tried to move, but his leg, back, and arm muscles were frozen solid.
“Margrave, I do not waste words. I have followed your career very closely. More closely than you think. In fact, I know everything about you.” The menace in the lord-emperor’s words chilled Lezaroth, and his premonitions of danger seemed to be fully justified.
He said nothing, because he didn’t know what would come out. He heard the voices again and heard anticipation in their whispers and murmurs. They are watching.
“Supporters tell me that you say things about me. I have recordings.” Nezhuala twisted his fingers and a hologram appeared just in front of Lezaroth’s face. He saw himself in the weapons bay of the Ravager speaking loudly.
“Why does His Highness”—there was scorn in the title—“make tactical military decisions? Why does he overrule the advice of his generals? Why are there random promotions and demotions? As if on a whim? Tell me, someone!”
Another clip appeared. Lezaroth saw himself with the chief engineer, in the forward hold this time. Oh no, not that conversation! Great Zahlman, protect me!
“I’ll tell you why this doesn’t work.” There was anger in Lezaroth’s voice as he pounded his fist on a nonfunctional munitions lifter. “It’s because it’s worn out. We need a new one. And why aren’t we getting one? Because all our resources are used in building this monstrous Blade of Night—a structure that no one other than the lord-emperor and his attendant demons knows what it does. Five hundred kilometers long, the mass of a sizable asteroid, yet no known purpose. Give me patience!”
A third clip. Only last week—in the ship’s gym of all places.
“I don’t get it. It doesn’t make any sense. None at all. The war against the renegades is over—has been for months. ‘The final triumph of the Dominion,’ he told us. So why don’t we have peace? Why haven’t the battle fleets been stood down? Why haven’t the Krallen factories closed? Why hasn’t military conscription ended? Not a sign of any of it! The old fool at Khetelak has put the military machine into top gear. New battle fleets, new long-range ships, and Krallen production at a record high.” There was a murmur from someone off camera and Lezaroth continued. “I’ll tell you why! He’s going to attack the Assembly and he’s going to kill us all. They outnumber us twenty to one at least. It’s madness!”
The holograms vanished.
“Margrave,” the lord-emperor said in a cold voice, “I have more of the same. I have enough information on you for a public court-martial and the slowest of executions.”
Lezaroth was as scared as he had ever been. He was more scared than at the disastrous attack at Krull’s Crater and even more scared than when the deployment pod engines had failed on the descent at Nadrewai.
“My lord, I beg forgiveness and seek your mercy. I spoke rashly.”
The lord-emperor took a step closer. There was a gleaming knife in his hand.
This is it. Lezaroth realized he was sweating.
The oddly twisted silver blade gently touched his throat. It was cold and seemed to be held with such extraordinary steadiness that it didn’t even tremble. He could take my life and not give it another thought.
“I ought to kill you.”
On the edge of audibility he heard the whispers reach a new intensity.
Suddenly from his right came a slight cough.
“Admiral, do you wish to say something?”
“My lord, Your Highness . . . I hardly dare.” The admiral’s voice was tremulous. “But the margrave is a young man. A bit rash. These statements—oh, how I warned him—were just words. He is a fine soldier and—for all his words—very loyal. I ask . . . for mercy.”
Thank you, old man! Great Zahlman bless and protect you.
The knife at Lezaroth’s throat didn’t flicker. “A brave comment, Admiral. I am . . . persuaded.” Nezhuala drew the knife away.
“So, Margrave, it won’t happen again?”
“No, my lord. Never.” And I mean it.
“Good.” There was a flexing of the pale lips into a sort of smile. Nezhuala made another gesture and Lezaroth felt his muscles freed.
“Now, Margrave, just wait here a moment. You may leave the chair. I need to take the admiral next door. When I come back, we must talk.”
Lezaroth turned to the admiral. Thanks, he mouthed, but there was no response. The admiral was staring at the lord-emperor with a look of intense fear and perplexity.
As the two men left, Lezaroth stood carefully and stretched his muscles. Alone among the watching statues and their shadows, he felt an almost giddy mixture of fear, relief, and gratitude.
A few minutes later Lezaroth was listening to the strange noises when he suddenly realized with a start of alarm that the lord-emperor stood before him. I never heard him!
“Margrave,” Nezhuala began, “I did not spare you out of mercy. I despise mercy. I spared you, because I think you may be useful. But come, let us walk amid the forms.”
Lezaroth followed him in silence.
“Let me explain a military paradox that I face,” the lord-emperor said. “So far, I have been able to personally supervise campaigns. But it seems that soon we will be carrying out battles a long way away.”
So he is planning war against the Assembly!
“That will involve a new type of campaign a long way from my supervision. It may take months for messages to reach me. So I need new commanders. I need men who can act on their own initiative.” Nezhuala’s masklike face split into the thinnest of smiles. “I am looking for talented men who are independent thinkers, but who are also loyal. I don’t want clones or mindless fanatics. And my search for such has found you. Talented, yes; independent, yes. But are you loyal enough to do my will?”
“I am, my lord.” Now.
“Perhaps. Let me explain further. You know about what happened with the Rahllman’s Star?”
Do I pretend that I don’t know anything? No, a lie is too risky. “My lord, I pieced together more or less what happened. A group of renegades escaped from Tellzanur in the last stages of the fighting. Somehow they stole a freighter and tried to escape. They were pursued by the admiral and, in desperation it seems, headed toward the Assembly. The admiral assumed that they would be forced to stop or be destroyed by the barrier that separates them and us. But somehow they managed to pilot the ship through. The admiral followed, but lost them in the outermost inhabited system of the Assembly. He observed things for some days and then returned. Is that correct?”
“A commendable brevity. And it raised major issues. I agonized over the matter, then talked to some of my counselors.” He gazed at the statues for a mo
ment and shook his head. “It is hard work. They are full of tricks. But they confirmed my own beliefs. War with the Assembly is assured.” He turned to Lezaroth. “Are you still uneasy about a war with them?”
“My lord, my words were hasty. If you think victory is possible, then it is.” As he said it, Lezaroth realized that his doubtful tone undermined his statement.
“I agree, caution is needed. They are big, bigger than you thought. We have a mere twenty-five worlds and thirty million people. They have, we now gather, some sixteen hundred worlds and a population of a trillion.”
That big!
“But there is a chance. The limited data the admiral obtained from his brief visit to the Alahir system. His distant scrutiny of the world over four hundred light-years away—Farholme they call it—suggests that these worlds are all rural. Pleasant no doubt, but rather agricultural.” There was a tight smile. “They have rivers, even seas, and forests. Plants and trees produce their oxygen.”
As he shook his head, Lezaroth glimpsed a strange, passionate light in his eyes. “Ah, the Assembly. It never changes. Wonderful on reforming worlds, but truly pathetic on the things that matter. Like industry. They have nothing, Margrave, like our industrial plants or our oxygen factories. Gates, gravity modification—oh, they do that, but little else. They are frightened of technology. They always were. That was the cause of the war.”
He means the War of Separation, of course. Funny to think of that twelve- thousand-year-old event as the war. We have had a thousand other wars since.
“And no weapons. None.” The lord-emperor’s gaze seemed suddenly appraising. “Military comments? You did well at college, I gather.”
Think! I must try and impress. The danger to me may just have been postponed. “Well, my lord, it is only the scale of the task that makes it daunting. The basic principles of combat apply. Strike fast, strike hard, and strike strategically. Go for the nerve centers before they realize what is happening.”
“Good. Anything else?”
This is a test. “My lord, one big question is whether or not they know we exist. Once they start arming, we will have little chance of success.”
“Good. And?”
Lezaroth thought hard. “We need more information. Much more. To strike strategically.”
“Excellent. I agree. I am glad I spared you.”
Nezhuala jabbed a finger toward a vast, mottled, snakelike form with red eyes and a gaping jaw. “That is Zamatouk. They worship him in the mines. Yes, as soon as I learned that the barrier was down, I immediately ordered the making of machines to build new ships. I created mechanized and robotized manufacturing systems to make more Krallen. These are now working. My goal is to have forces large enough to make just the sudden massive attack you suggest. Within half a standard year we will have that fleet ready. A fleet that will punch its way across the Assembly in well under a hundred days.” Nezhuala paused and, when he spoke again, his words rang with emotion. “And take Earth.”
“And take Earth!” Lezaroth echoed, unable to restrain his words. No one has ever waged war on this scale! Or at this speed!
There was a long silence. Was it his imagination, or had the whispering intensified?
“Yes,” Nezhuala said quietly, and turned his dark eyes on him.
Lezaroth felt awed by the audacity of the lord-emperor’s vision. There was something compelling in it. To take on enemies of such a size, at such a distance, and strike at their heart. It takes warfare into a new dimension. All our wars hitherto have been petty local skirmishes. This is the great war.
“But, Margrave, we lack the information we need. You can see the agonizing paradox. On the one hand, because we cannot win a long war with the Assembly, we must, as you say, strike soon and strike hard. Against such a foe, we will have but one chance. On the other hand, because we do not know the Assembly, we cannot risk striking at them. So what do we do?”
“A hard decision, my lord.”
“Exactly.” Nezhuala’s lips twisted into something like a smile. “I, like you, Margrave, am cautious. It seemed an irresolvable dilemma. But now something has happened to give us a chance. We have a window of opportunity.”
“We have, my lord?”
But there was no answer. The lord-emperor seemed to be listening to another voice again. Then he looked up at Lezaroth and seemed to scrutinize him. “Margrave, you are augmented?”
“The usual for frontline soldiers, my lord. Various leg, arm, and back muscles are enhanced. My eyes have been laser-collimated to the optical limits. I have supplemented anti-infectants. My nervous system has all the latest War Dep upgrades. And I have the usual neuroswitched communication and bionic systems.”
“It’s exciting.” There was enthusiasm in Nezhuala’s voice. “We are beginning to evolve beyond our mortality. Slowly—but steadily—we Freeborn are becoming more than flesh and blood. Progress, Captain. We are a long way down a road that the Assembly never took. And now the end is in sight. The long shadow of death is starting to retreat for our people. Ah, the Assembly. They resist change. Always did.” Then he frowned. “Where were we? Ah yes. A window of opportunity.”
He paused before a statue that looked like a great centipede with a human head and tilted his head as if to see it better. “Yes. A week ago I received a most interesting piece of news. Trying to find information, I went to the lowest depths of the Blade. My great project does have its uses, Margrave. There I talked with my counselors.” He stared around the hall. “No one here. But amid all the many and useless words, they told me something interesting. It seems the crew of Rahllman’s Star have blown up the Gate at Farholme. No more than thirty days ago.”
“My lord, how can they know?”
“There is a steersman on board. They can still communicate at a very basic level with him. Do you see the significance?”
“I think so, my lord. Is it true that the Assembly still do not have Nether-Realm travel?”
There was a solemn nod. “No, just Gates. That much the admiral confirmed. It suits their cautious, rather static style.”
“Then, my lord, in that case Farholme is now isolated from the Assembly.”
“Indeed. Vulnerable.”
“Do we have any idea why the crew did that?”
“No. The best guess is that they had been discovered. They wanted to keep themselves secret.” He gazed at a statue for a moment before continuing. “So, we are planning to seize the world as soon as we can. There is a data-bank system there called the Library. The admiral found that much of their information traffic is to, or from, it. Can you imagine, Margrave, what the data repository of an open society would be like?”
“It stretches my mind, my lord.”
They were near new statues now. A white ghostly form with an open mouth and slitlike eyes seemed to watch them.
“Indeed. You would have information on everything. Details of every person on every world. The location of every Gate. The operational facts on every ship. Twelve thousand years of history. Unencrypted.”
“My lord, if I may speak, possessing this seems vital before the main attack.”
“Exactly. So my will is this: we continue to prepare the fleet to attack the Assembly. But, in the meantime, we are going to send emissaries to Farholme. That mission will be diplomatic.”
Diplomatic?
“I see your surprise.”
“My lord, I had assumed . . . a military component.”
“No.” The smile was cruel. “Patience. We will go delicately. In Assembly culture, they think self-sacrifice is the highest virtue. If they felt they were protecting the Assembly, they would all die happily and take the Library with them. So we will go for diplomacy first. We will offer them a treaty.”
“But will they accept?”
“Perhaps. We may modify our image a little.” The lord-emperor gave a sudden strangled laugh. “Oh, Margrave, I like the idea of winning such a world to us. Of corrupting a part of the Assembly.”
Leza
roth was aware again of the inky eyes staring at him. I am being assessed.
“Margrave, do you find that attractive?”
“Yes, I do, my lord.”
“Good. Very good. So we will start with diplomacy. We will send a diplomatic vessel with two ambassadors. All being well, they will be allowed to set up a base on Farholme and be given access to this Library. We will seek to entice this world into an oath of loyalty. And if enticing doesn’t work? Then we will take what we want by force. We will seize the world. And that is where I need a military leader.”
Things are becoming clearer.
“There will be a military vessel along with the diplomatic ship. It will stay in the Nether-Realms. If diplomacy fails, it will immediately emerge and use all the power it has to ensure a full surrender.”
“A skillful plan, my lord. May I ask, what vessel did you have in mind?”
“A full-suppression complex.”
“Excellent. That ought to be convincing.”
“Indeed. I intend sending the Triumph of Sarata.”
“That’s the first of the new Z class. Faster, bigger than anything else. Three-quarters of a million tons.” That would be a ship to have charge of!
“I will be sending it fully armed,” the lord-emperor continued. “And with one hundred and fifty thousand Krallen.”
“Impressive.” That’d be adequate to subdue a world with weapons; for a world without, it’s ridiculous overkill.
“Do I detect that you think it is excessive, Margrave?”
“No, my lord. But I’m sure the task could be managed with fewer resources.”
“Really?” The smooth voice suddenly had an unnerving chillness. “Let me warn you, Margrave. You need to respect this enemy. It is easy to mock the Assembly with its petty concerns and rustic habits. But history tells us never to underestimate them. They are dangerous.”
Lezaroth tried to stop himself from shivering. “Thank you for the reminder, my lord. The texts tell us that underestimating the power of the Assembly was the mistake Jannafy made at Centauri.”
The lord-emperor seemed to start. As he stepped forward, his smooth face loomed across Lezaroth’s entire field of view.
