by Ada Palmer
“Together.” Kim Yeong-Uk nodded. “Agreed. Papadelias is downstairs with a crew of polylaws preparing to arrest us. I doubt our people can slow them down much longer.”
“Arrest us? All of us? Our blocs will fall apart.”
Wang Laojing held his head high. “I have plans in place. Replacements. My bloc will stand. If some of you have neglected such preparation—”
“Useless,” Shanghai interrupted.
Beijing: “Useless?”
Wenzhou: “I agree. The whole world heard DeLupa’s speech about murderers training murderers. Everyone who’s in a position to replace us is also on the list Perry published naming those who knew about O.S.”
Young Shanghai: “It isn’t true! I never told any of my subordinates.”
Wenzhou: “That doesn’t matter. I can’t prove my staff and successors didn’t know, nor can any of you. What Perry constructed is a very crafty list of everyone close enough to us to keep our blocs together. Everyone who knows enough to sit at this table is about to be arrested if not lynched.”
“Not everyone.” Old Huang Enlai had lingered at the window, watching the lights war on, but he turned now and nodded to the empty board table, testing the faces of his companions. Would they see it? “There’s someone who knows everything, who isn’t on that list. Someone who’s sat at this table almost as often as we have ourselves.”
“Xiao Hei Wang!” Jehovah’s Chinese name spread quickly through the others, wide eyes with it. “Xiao Hei Wang is innocent.”
“Xiao Hei Wang could do it.”
“They sit in on every meeting, know who owes favors, family history, everything.”
“They could hold my bloc together.”
“They could hold all our blocs together until real plans are made.”
Korea nodded. “It’s not a bad idea.”
“The other Hives trust Xiao Hei Wang too, they’d trust the Mitsubishi under their leadership.”
“Would Xiao Hei Wang have to join the Hive?”
“No. Outside contractors can hold shares in trust.”
“They’d do it for us, wouldn’t they, Andō?” Old Huang Enlai approached the Chief Director’s desk. “Xiao Hei Wang thinks of you as a father. They’ve supported us against the Masons, fed us secrets behind MASON’s back. They’d stay loyal, support our families, honor our requests and instructions, even from prison, and they’ll have Madame’s resources to help, and the world’s trust.”
“Xiao Hei Wang would do it, I’m sure. We can make them custodian of all our shares until a new board is selected.”
“They’ll protect our families.”
“Maybe get us acquitted.”
“No!” Hotaka Andō rarely raises his voice, but there is thunder in it when he does. “We have been defeated. That does not mean we hand the enemy their prize.”
All stared. “What enemy?”
“Madame D’Arouet. Can’t you see it? They planned all this to force us to pass power to Tai-kun.”
“Madame?” Glances flicked fast as sparks among the others. “Why would Madame attack us? We’re all their clients.”
This should be no surprise, reader. To head a Mitsubishi bloc is to raise a high tower on ground besieged by earthquakes; Madame’s patronage is the iron hidden in the tower’s heart which makes these ten still stand.
“Madame is not our friend.” Andō’s shoulders shook, as if something threatened to erupt from him, sobs or laughter. “It’s just as Sniper said: Madame is trying to tear down all the Hives and put Tai-kun at the head of what remains. Tai-kun nearly lost their life exposing O.S. They’re the world’s hero now. The Cousins, the Humanists, Europe, we’re all on the edge of ruin, and Madame is counting on us to realize we can save ourselves by handing power to Tai-kun. Europe has given itself to Spain, and Prince Leonor’s death makes Tai-kun Heir Presumptive. As for the Cousins, they’re already implementing Tai-kun’s interim constitution, and you can’t doubt Tai-kun and Heloïse will be the architects of the permanent one as well.”
“Heloïse?”
Andō met Huang Enlai’s eyes. “A tearful maiden charges onto the Senate floor with a bloodstained constitution? My Hiroaki still has access to the CFB, and the Cousins are all sympathy vote. After ‘Aunt’ Kosala’s touching performance at the Senate this morning, and in the Brussels crisis, they’ve received more letters demanding that Kosala remain Chair than they had before for their dismissal. Even more are demanding that the Board waive the requirement for Board Members to be Cousins, so they can appoint Heloïse, as well as Tai-kun. Madame knows how to use a broken system.”
“Then Madame is trying to have Xiao Hei Wang take over three Hives at once?”
Andō’s voice was steel. “All hives. You know Faust and MASON have already surrendered.”
“MASON? But Xiao Hei Wang is Shan Huang Zi, they can’t be Shan Tai Zi.” (China has its own words for porphyrogene and Imperator Destinatus.) “Can they?”
Scared faces.
“Why would Madame do this? Kosala and most of Parliament were as much their clients as we are!”
“Because Tai-kun is soft,” Andō answered.
Old Huang Enlai studied the Chief Director’s face, perhaps more scrutable to him after their long years of colleagueship. “What are you thinking?”
Andō kept working through all this, eyes more on the lens data before him than on his colleagues. “Madame has never concealed their ambition. The reason we didn’t see this coming is that Tai-kun already had an office in every Hive. But Tai-kun wouldn’t let Madame exploit those offices, they’ve fulfilled the duties to each in good faith, serving loyally instead of manipulating. If Madame wants to conquer the world through Tai-kun, they have to force them into higher offices.” Andō looked up now, testing each Director’s face as if eager to spar with any who dared object. None did. “The Cousins and Europe are conquered already, Faust and MASON won’t fight back against their own next of kin, and the Utopians capitulated long ago. Vivien Ancelet may have saved the Humanists with this sudden call for an election, but Ancelet is very close to Tai-kun too, and now they have to pass on the title of Anonymous. I believe that Tai-kun has long been their designated successor.” He gave his colleagues time to gasp. “If we hand our Hive to Tai-kun too, Madame wins.”
Beijing and Shanghai exchanged glances. “We don’t have a choice,” Shanghai began. “The Hive needs a leader. Better to appoint Xiao Hei Wang than let the Hive dissolve.”
For once the two agreed. “Xiao Hei Wang has long been one of us, and still thinks of you as a father, Andō. And they’re loyal to duty, and to promises. We can hold them to their pledges. If we press Xiao Hei Wang to keep our Hive separate, to defend Mitsubishi values, to defend us, we can let the others fall to Madame, then have Xiao Hei Wang restore us. If you ask, Andō, they’ll promise, and if they promise they’ll keep it.”
“Tai-kun will not defend homicide. Right now our own Hive hates us for our part in O.S., and loves Tai-kun for their part in exposing the same. What we did with O.S. we did lawfully as leaders of this government, for the good of our Members and the world. If our Members have a chance to calm down and listen to us they will see that, and rally behind us, defending our right to self-sovereignty and exercise of lethal force. But Tai-kun will never think that way.” Hotaka Andō turned again to editing the documents before him, a sense of rest falling across his face. “Tai-kun hates death absolutely. Family ties cannot trump that. If they take office they will be unable to hide their horror at homicide, and that will push our Members to condemn us even more.”
Wenzhou’s careful Chen Zhongren nodded. “The Members have loved Xiao Hei Wang since birth. Now that they’ve almost become a martyr for the Alliance, they’ll love them even more. If we put Xiao Hei Wang in charge, the Members will never let them pass power back to us when they see us as a group of murderers. We have to hold on to our shares, insist on our own family successors, keep Xiao Hei Wang out or we’ll never get back in. And Xiao Hei
Wang is a pious son—if they rule, their mother rules.”
Beijing agreed. “We must resist, keep our own in power, even if it’s a fight.”
“No,” the Chief Director countered, soft but clear. “Everyone under us is going down, Kraye saw to that. Fighting it will just rip the Hive apart. We’ve lost. We have no choice but to surrender.”
“Andō—”
“But not to Tai-kun.” The Chief Director did not glance up, too armored in conviction’s calm to care whether the faces around him showed hope or anger. “There is another who knows just as much as Tai-kun about the inner workings of the Directorate, who has the knowledge necessary to be our proxy and to keep our blocs together, who had no part in O.S., but whom our Members will be happy to throw off, and who will never be able to hold on to power in the Hive without us and our families’ constant support.”
“Who?”
Andō saved his file. “Before Kimura killed themself, they signed their shares over to me. My voting bloc is now almost a quarter of the Hive. As of this moment I have left all my shares in trust to Dominic Seneschal, for a duration of three years, on condition that they train a board of new Directors selected by the dominant shareholding groups.”
“Dominic Seneschal? From Xiao Hei Wang’s harem?” Behind closed doors some give a darker name than bash’ to His devoted servants.
Andō rose, giving the arms of the Director’s chair a light parting caress. “Dominic spies through Tai-kun’s tracker almost constantly. They’ve been spectator at every Directorate meeting Tai-kun has ever seen. And they have no qualms about lethal force. With our instruction and support, they can manage our blocs almost as well as Tai-kun.”
“But Dominic is from Madame’s!”
“They’re the worst of Madame’s! A monster!”
Does the fear flush in their faces speak of past encounters?
“True,” Andō confirmed. “Seneschal terrifies and disgusts everyone, especially the public. They could never hold power without us to back them. The Members will hate and fear them, and welcome us back when we’re ready to return.”
“But they work for Xiao Hei Wang. They’ll follow them as slavishly—more slavishly—than anyone.”
“No. You forget, Madame is our enemy, not Xiao Hei Wang. You all know what Madame has done to Dominic. Dominic hates Madame with a bitter, vengeful hatred, and if we give Dominic power they’ll fight to destroy Madame with more savagery, and more intimate knowledge, than any of us will ever have. A gun in Dominic’s hand is a gun aimed at Madame by the true enemy of our true enemy. And thanks to Madame’s training, Dominic believes a man may only love something weaker than themself. Dominic is an obedient servant, but beneath that wants nothing in this world more than to see Tai-kun fail. That contradiction will make them self-destruct in office. They will steer the Hive through the immediate chaos, preserve its independence for their own needs, but when they try to move forward, in a world where Tai-kun rules the other Hives, they will be paralyzed between wanting to help and hinder Tai-kun, and their policies will become a mass of contradictions. The Members will start to hate them, cry for their overthrow, and then they will remember us and ours as the better, stable way, and welcome us again.”
Chen Zhongren studied Andō closely, frowning. “You believe we can reclaim our seats, against Madame? We all got these seats in the first place thanks largely to Madame.”
Andō met his eyes. “I have three billion voting shares, my own connections, family, my ten bash’children and their … abilities, and Ganymede and Danaë, who are mine, firmly, not Madame’s, mine. Whether I reach out my hand from here, or from a prison, makes little difference to me. You may strike out on your own if you wish, but I am confident.”
Chen Zhongren nodded. “Was this Danaë’s idea?”
The others say Andō flinched here, as if the question found his armor’s chink. “This is my solution,” he answered. “The only solution. I will not let Madame unite all the Hives, not even under Tai-kun. Those of you who are too tired to fight may do as you will. The rest I hope will join me and help to build a weak new board with Dominic at its helm. Dominic will destroy those who destroyed us, and then we will destroy Dominic and take all back again. The other six Hives have fallen, but not irrevocably, not while we endure. Who is with me?”
CHAPTER THE TWENTIETH
I Was Wrong.
I was wrong. I had lost conviction’s armor when I first faced Jehovah at my capture, and for thirteen years I embraced doubt, which lacks the oak’s strength but sways reedlike before all storms, and so ensures one will at least never again be wrong. Fool that I am, I cast that doubt aside. I was so sure. When I awoke I would fly with zephyr speed to bring Bridger back to Jehovah, who would marshal His many fathers to commit all Hives to sharing Bridger’s gift with a grateful world. That was the Plan, and I, Its agent, thought I understood. As if the trowel that slops mortar on the stones can understand the exalted aim of the cathedral. Unleash your vengeance on me, reader, Furies, God; I who forgot the lesson bought with Apollo’s blood deserve no less.
«Welcome back, Mycroft. You’re now the new Anonymous.»
I awoke in the hygienic prison of a Utopian hospital bed. My doctors knew I would not consent to convalescence without restraint, and, weakened as I was, they still showed due respect to Apollo’s murderer by fashioning my straps of Cannergel.
«There were four coups while you were under.» Papadelias sat at my bedside, warming me with soft Greek and himself with coffee. «Ancelet exposed themself as the Anonymous and resigned so the Humanists can rush an election to make them President. The Mitsubishi Directors have all been arrested, the Cousins have scrapped their government and are holding elections under an interim constitution, and the entire European government was assassinated, so Spain’s taken over as interim … they’re saying Prime Minister but Dictator is more accurate. I can activate your tracker if you want to see the news.»
It took some tries to get my voice to work again. «Je-Jehovah?»
Papa smiled to find one part of the world at least unchanged. «Jehovah’s fine, just having tests run.»
«How long was I out?»
«Five hours. I had them replace your pacemaker with one that’s Mycroft-proof.» He had the old one on the table beside him, flat like a cookie, its surface clouded with an organic residue my body had used to integrate this alien into itself. «How old were you when you designed that thing?» he asked. «Fifteen? Fourteen?»
«Fourteen … » The syllables were not easy, reader, nor would you speak with ease if you saw the better part of your heart severed on a table before you. It was the better part, not the clumsy meat pump biology had fit me with, but love’s creation, mine and Saladin’s, which Saladin planted to mark his territory, so every clock tick that measured my life’s hours was his as much as mine. I knew every wire of it, could smell in my mind the damp grass of our garden hideout where we planned its insides under the microscope, and practiced our laparoscopy on steaks and eggplants—happy years. «Did they replace the meat part of my heart too?» I asked.
«Just reinforced it. They said your heart’s not in bad shape considering, and so long as you can’t slip your tracker anymore, I’m content.»
The Cannergel was soft enough to let me test the motion of my shoulder, the muscles slow but responsive beneath the bandages. «Make sure there are no records of who performed the surgery.»
«Saladin still territorial?» he tested, smug. «I don’t know whether to be more impressed with you because you managed to keep me in the dark for thirteen years, or less impressed because you had help all this time.»
I avoided his eyes, studying the ceiling’s warren of clear tubes, through which U-beasts of all styles, from Bunnybots to flame-bright Fiberoptifoxes, bustled delivering snacks and pills and therapeutic cuteness. «I had a ba’sib once named Saladin,» I said.
Papa sipped his coffee. «No need to pretend. I’ll find them on my own, after we deal with this Bridger ki
d. No hurry.»
I felt my face harden. «Should I wish you good luck, then, hunting for a ghost? Or are you after Bridger so you can have them resurrect my dead ba’sib just to accuse them of conspiracy?»
He kept his laugh low. «Thisbe told me about the dog trick you used with Bridger. The rest is obvious. It’s unlike you using the same trick twice. Keep it up and you’ll be unmasked as the Anonymous in no time.»
«Ἄναξ Jehovah is the next Anonymous, not me.»
Papa shook his head. «Jehovah’s too busy. They say it should be you.»
Objections gathered within me, political and moral, but Papa was not the One to voice them to. «What happened to your face?» I asked.
Papa touched the bandaged scratches which striped his left cheek from eyebrow to chin. «Ganymede resisted arrest. I need you to look at something.»
He pulled back the curtains, baring the remainder of the room. The right wall was a great window overlooking Romanova’s streets, eerie since an emergency curfew kept the shops and alleys dead. Martin and his Emperor sat in silence against the room’s far wall, performing a thousand tasks over their trackers as they awaited the return of the Patient Whose gurney should have nested in the space between their chairs. Two other beds stood parallel to mine against the near wall. The farther held a patient barely recognizable as human, mummified in bandages and gel slabs, as one might imagine Frankenstein’s creation in its unnatural gestation; the near bed held a body bag.
«Who’s that in the far bed?» I asked, craning my neck as I tried to make out a sense of height or build through the bandage cocoon.
Papa sniffed. «If they recover, the Chief Director of the Mitsubishi.»
«Director Andō! What happened to them? The mob?»
«No, not Andō.» He half laughed. «That’s Andō’s successor-designate, Dominic Seneschal.»
«Dominic? Director Andō didn’t choose Jehovah?» I did not see at first the significance of servant inheriting instead of Master; it seemed trivial, such was the power of confidence’s golden illusion.
