by John Scalzi
“That’s a sentiment that would amuse Tarsem,” I said.
“I’m sure,” Oi said. “Not that I didn’t have to threaten a couple of representatives, of course. But, again, fewer than I might have to otherwise.”
“I’ll need their names.”
“You’ll have them. Try not to have them killed.”
“I’m more subtle than that.”
“You’ll have them killed later, you mean.”
“I won’t have them killed at all. Just their careers.”
“When the vote is final they will want you to speak to the Grand Assembly.”
“Of course,” I said. “I’ll be ready. Thank you, Oi. That will be all.”
“One more thing,” Oi said, and produced in its tendrils a paper envelope. “A letter.”
“From whom?”
“From the general,” it said. “He gave it to me in our last meeting. He asked me to hold it and to give it to you, after his speech. He told me I would know when to give it to you.” It held it out to me. “I think it’s all right to give it to you now.”
I took the letter. “I assume you read it,” I said.
“In fact that is the one piece of information on this entire asteroid that I have not read.”
“Remarkable,” I said, looking at the envelope. “How did that happen, I wonder.”
“Simple. The general asked me not to.” Oi nodded and departed.
I opened the envelope and read the letter inside.
Hello, Hafte.
First I will apologize. If you are reading this, you are now leader of the Conclave. I know it’s not a position you wanted for yourself, and if you resent me a little for making you take it I understand. But also understand that I can’t imagine that the next leader of the Conclave would be anyone but you. You have too long contented yourself to be the advisor and the councilor. It’s not that I did not value your advice and counsel. But I always understood that your talents were not being used to their best extent, either by yourself or the Conclave. Now they will be. I hope you can forgive me for giving you that final push.
Not too long ago you and I sat in the Lalan park and you told me the story of Loomt Both and how he almost doomed the Lalans to extinction. You said to me that it was best for your people to have their pain early, to grow into their wisdom. I have come to believe the same is true for the Conclave. We had growing pains, rebellions, and loss. But none of these events have fixed the Conclave, changed it from a disparate collection of peoples into a single, galvanized nation. It needs something to be that catalyst.
If you are reading this, then you know what that catalyst was.
I set the letter down, trying to make sense of what I had just read. I looked around the park, and saw nothing but greenery, and a single young Lalan, mindlessly swimming in the pond. After a few moments I started reading again.
You were right. When the Conclave was an idea, and when it was growing, I was the right leader for it. But I’m not the right leader for it now. It needs someone else, someone with a cannier set of political skills. Someone like you. But neither can I simply step away and fade into the background. We both know there are those in the Grand Assembly who would have no intention of allowing me to pick my own successor. The process would be drawn out and messy and at the end of it I would be what you feared I would become—just another politician, who left the stage long after he should have.
Instead I choose to become something else: A symbol. A legend. A martyr to the Conclave. And, to be less precious about it, a bludgeon for you to pummel anyone who dares to get out of line, for a good long time now. I’ve given you a tool to build the founding myth of the Conclave—to set it on a path toward wisdom rather than dissolution. I trust that you will know how to do it. You would know how to do it better than I would.
Now, as to the matter of my death. I am reasonably certain that Vnac Oi has suspicions; it is very good at its job. I am also reasonably certain that it has no intention of delving too deeply into the mystery, or rather, will be content to pin it on some conveniently unprovable set of circumstances. This will leave you, and only you, to know the true nature of events. The only accounting of it is in this letter. What you do with this knowledge is entirely your choice. From my point of view there is no wrong answer. But I think you know what I would suggest you do. At least for now.
There is nothing left to say other than this: I wish I could be there to see you do what will come next. I cannot. Instead I will take comfort in knowing that you will be the one to finish our work. To set the Conclave’s future in stone.
I wish you joy in the work, my dear Hafte.
Tarsem
I stared at the letter for a good long while, seeing the page but not reading the words.
Then slowly, deliberately, I tore the letter into pieces as small as I could make them and tossed them into the pond.
The paper drank in the water of the pond, turning to bits of pulp, and the ink on the individual torn shreds of letter spread and ran, obliterating any chance of legibility. After several moments there was nothing left of the letter but my memory of it.
“Madam Premier,” Oi said, behind me.
I turned and saw it, along with Umman, my assistant.
“‘Madam Premier.’ So that is my title now,” I mused.
“It is, Madam Premier,” Umman said.
“Your presence is requested in the Grand Assembly chamber,” Oi said. “The Grand Assembly would acknowledge you as the Conclave’s leader.”
“I would be pleased to see it,” I said.
“They have also asked if you would speak to them.”
“If they wish.”
“May I tell them what you will say?”
“Yes,” I said. “You may tell them that I intend to say the following: The union is preserved.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
JOHN SCALZI is one of the most popular and acclaimed SF authors to emerge in the last decade. His debut, Old Man’s War, won him science fiction’s John W. Campbell Award for Best New Writer. His New York Times bestsellers include The Last Colony, Fuzzy Nation, his most recent novel Lock In, and also Redshirts, which won 2013’s Hugo Award for Best Novel. Material from his widely read blog Whatever (whatever.scalzi.com) has earned him two other Hugo Awards as well. He lives in Ohio with his wife and daughter. You can sign up for email updates here.
OTHER TOR BOOKS BY JOHN SCALZI
Agent to the Stars
The Android’s Dream
Fuzzy Nation
Lock In
Redshirts
Your Hate Mail Will Be Graded:
A Decade of Whatever, 1998–2008
The Old Man’s War Novels
Old Man’s War
The Ghost Brigades
The Last Colony
Zoe’s Tale
The Human Division
Edited by John Scalzi
Metatropolis
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
About the Author
Other Tor Books by John Scalzi
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
THE END OF ALL THINGS #2: THIS HOLLOW UNION
Copyright © 2015 by John Scalzi
All rights reserved.
Cover art and pastel drawings by John Harris
A Tor Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
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eBooks may be purchased for business or promotional use. For information on bulk purchases, please contact Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department by writing to [email protected].
e-ISBN 9780765384843
First Edition: June 2015
Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
About the Author
Other Tor Books by John Scalzi
Newsletter Sign-up
Copyright
Guide
Cover
Table of Contents
