by V. St. Clair
“You’re very flippant about our total separation from the rest of the universe for the last two-and-a-half centuries.” He struggled to conceal his frustration with her for it. “Despite our advances in knowledge and technology, one day all of our spaceships abruptly began to fall from the sky as soon as they launched: nothing could clear the atmosphere no matter what they tried. That isn’t odd or concerning to you?”
Shellina looked briefly pensive at this and eventually said, “Well, yes, it is strange. But maybe the early technologists lost the plans for how to properly build space shuttles and they haven’t rediscovered it yet—”
“Even if you allow for gross incompetence by an entire planet’s worth of people, no ships have been able to enter Elaria from outer space, unless you believe the small faction of people who think no one from Earth has attempted to visit us in the last two centuries.” He controlled the urge to pace the room to vent his frustration, forcing himself to remain seated. “Communications are blocked from both ends as signals bounce back or get scrambled before leaving the planet, and Elaria has been effectively walled off from the remainder of the universe ever since. We still tried to send probes into space, but so far all of them have fallen back to the surface in a fiery mass of metal.”
“Our technologists—” Shellina began, but Topher cut her off before she could go further.
“Our technology is better than Earth’s ever was. Explain to me how it is possible for us to advance so far, yet our ability to leave the atmosphere has gotten so much poorer.”
Shellina pouted and said, “You know I can’t explain it.”
“Do you think this complete separation from our home planet—and species—has had a negative impact on us?” he prodded Shellina.
“Not really,” she answered blithely, picking at a manicured fingernail. “Why should we care what everyone else is doing, anyway? We have a good world here, my family rules it, and the people love us. Sure, a few idiots die stupidly every year in the Silver River because they’re too dumb to realize it’s actually mercury and was only named for its color, but we’re better off without them, anyway.”
The capital of Silveria was named for the river on its eastern border, far enough from the Augenspire and the city itself to prevent the toxic fumes from posing a threat to the people who lived here, but a very real threat to the unwary traveler.
“You are speaking like a child, not like a leader,” Topher reprimanded her, eliciting a hurt gasp from Shellina. “Our civilization is stunted by the lack of galactic contact, and always will be until we find a way to communicate with the other planets again. Your family was given the Viceroyalty of this planet upon its original colonization, but if and when the Isolation ends, you will once again report to whoever is currently the leader of all of humanity, and you must never forget that fact. The world here may be habitable, but the elarium we have used so cheerfully to increase our capabilities has come at a heavy price.”
“You mean the Gifted,” Shellina frowned prettily, ignoring everything but the last part of his statement. It did nothing to soften Topher’s annoyance with her.
“Yes, I mean the Gifted, and everything following thereafter,” he replied. “Humans did not begin to develop ‘Gifts’ until we began relying on elarium so heavily for our technology, and now it is such a staple of our society we can’t imagine functioning without it.”
Shellina shrugged and said, “Yes, but only like five percent of the population of Elaria is Gifted, and they’re all contained in that fishbowl of an Academy with us watching over them. Everyone else is normal…”
“Are we?” Topher gestured at the enhancers in his temples. “Is it normal for me to have two ports into my brain so I can jack technology in to change my hardwiring as it suits my needs? Is it normal for me to have armor able to repel cannon fire if it needs to?”
“Yes, but that’s all technology you could take on or off. You’re still a normal person underneath it, not like those freaks in the Academy, even if some of their Gifts are kind of useful.”
Topher didn’t flinch at this description, refusing to reflect on his mixed feelings about the Gifted and his own abnormalities.
“There are more Gifted than there are Provo,” he said flatly. “As people began developing abilities, at first we thought they were lucky. The Talent technology was developing at about the same time as the Gifted came into play, and soon there was a struggle over which faction should be calling the shots—the Talented or the Gifted. For some reason the Gifted are unable to use the more advanced technology—like Talents—and only a small percentage of the population ever acquire Gifts, so it caused a massive stratification of society. Your ancestor was a superstitious man and sided with technology over the so-called magic, and he called on his army and his Provo to perform a mass-extinction of all of the Gifted on Elaria to prevent them from ever challenging his rule.”
Shellina frowned and said, “It probably wasn’t the best way to go about it, but I can see his reasoning…”
“It was a bloodbath,” Topher cut her off bluntly. And the worst military blunder in our planet’s history. How different would things be right now if not for that one stupid decision? “They struck out at the Gifted, unprovoked, who then had no choice but to fight back or suffer extermination. Thus was the Great War begun, one-hundred-and-fifty years ago now. Countless lives were lost as the two groups slaughtered each other, with everyone else forced to choose sides between the military and the Gifted.” And all because of one paranoid idiot.
“I don’t see where there was much to choose from,” Shellina argued moodily. “My great-grandfather was the Viceroy, and he had the entire military behind him. Whoever sided against him was a fool and a traitor.”
Annoyed by her lack of vision, Topher said, “He was committing genocide against an entire group of people just for being different. Everyone else was forced to consider the fact that they could be next on the chopping block if your great-grandfather decided he suddenly hated dark-skinned people, or religious ones, or any other group. They were fighting for justice and for the right to exist.”
“You sound like a rebel now,” the Vicerina scowled at him. “You better not let my father hear you talk like that or he’ll strip you of your rank. Besides, no one hates people over stupid things like religion or skin-color anymore; that was a relic of Earth before the idiots had to band together to get off of their dying world.”
“The Viceroy is not a stupid man, and is not blinded by familial sentimentality. He openly admits your great-grandfather committed a serious blunder with his call for mass-extinction, and you greatly underestimate the human capacity for fear and hatred.”
“Well,” she pouted. “The right side won, in any case.”
Only because history is written by the victors, Topher thought privately. If the Gifted had won the war, everyone would be convinced they were meant to defeat the corrupt government and rise to power, especially after fighting for their right to simply exist.
“We have been at a very uneasy peace with the Gifted ever since the war ended,” Topher skimmed over his private thoughts on the subject. “Your grandmother, Vicereine Eileen, put an end to the war by calling off her late father’s initiative to unilaterally wipe out the Gifted. She founded the Academy and required all Gifted from around the world to reside there and register their Gifts with the Provo to ensure there are no more uprisings, but they’ve been on a tight leash ever since.”
“Well, then the problem is solved, thanks to Grandmama, and now we’re all at peace.”
Sometimes Topher couldn’t believe how naïve Shellina was.
“Do you really believe the Gifted are happy about being herded up like cattle and kept under constant threat of death? They are forced to wear an emblem to mark them as Gifted at all times, to register their Gifts with us and accept death if any of them are deemed too hazardous to be allowed to exist, and to live in a place of our choosing, away from their families unless their relatives want
to relocate to the capital to visit. You think they’re happy about any of that?”
“They should be glad we spared their lives after they went to war with us and lost,” Shellina said petulantly.
“A war our family started, my dear,” a strong male voice spoke from the doorway, and Topher turned in his chair to see the Viceroy of Elaria enter the room. He stood abruptly in deference to the position, thankful that Viceroy Roald Elaria was everything his youngest daughter was not: authoritative and commanding of presence despite his middling height, grey-haired but energetic, and quietly shrewd.
“Topher is right, Shellina,” he continued. “My mother brokered an end to the fighting, but there is still unrest even to this day. The Provo-Minor are constantly on the lookout for signs of rebellion, and we must remain ever vigilant to the threat. It would not do to grow complacent about the bitter feelings of those in the valley below us.”
He continued speaking to his daughter without even looking at Topher. “Your history teacher says your work today was unsatisfactory.”
Shellina puffed up in indignation and said, “Mr. Collins is a dolt.”
Looking at Topher for the first time, he said, “What is your opinion of her essay?”
“I agree with Mr. Collins, Excellency.”
The Viceroy registered this with a small smile and said, “Then you will redo your essay, Shellina, and I expect it to be more satisfactory on the second attempt. I shall also speak to your professor about not pawning off the task of educating you onto one of my highest-ranking Majors just because he finds you tedious.”
“But you said Topher could tutor me in military history because he’s so good at it!” Shellina protested loudly.
“Military history, yes. General history, no. Come, Major, I require your talents elsewhere.”
Topher inclined his head and followed the Viceroy out of the room without saying goodbye to Shellina. The two walked mostly in silence as they continued down the hall to the Viceroy’s own planning room, which was one of the things Topher liked best about the man. Unlike his youngest daughter, the Viceroy felt no need to chat excessively, and always acted professionally in his presence. Even rarer for a ruler, he seemed to value being told the truth, though Topher was careful to appreciate when he should keep his thoughts to himself. There was a limit to even the Viceroy’s patience and forbearing.
They entered the planning room to find two other Majors and Vicerina Jessamine already inside. Topher tried not to notice the latter too obviously, though it was like trying not to notice the sun. The twenty-three year old heir to the Viceroyalty was everything Topher admired: intelligent, cunning, politically-guarded when she needed to be, and uniquely beautiful. Her fiery red hair was pulled back in a sleek knot behind her head today, green eyes brilliant against her pale skin. Unlike her sister, who favored flouncy dresses and ribbons, Jessamine was wearing a uniform not terribly dissimilar to his own. Here was a true scion of the military caste who had ruled this planet for centuries.
She was leaned over a table of three-dimensional, laser-projected grids of Silveria when Topher entered the room with her father, engrossed in discussion with the other two Provo-Major in the room. She looked up at their arrival and favored them both with a small smile. It made Topher sweat.
“Father, Topher,” she began as soon as the door shut behind them and the sound-dampening shield activated around the room. “Majors Fox and Gareth tell me the Minors haven’t found anything at all during their investigation of the Academy so far, and this lack of evidence of a large-scale plot against us is a bad thing.” Her voice had a slightly biting edge to it by the time she finished, a sign of her displeasure with their progress.
Fox, who Topher had thought would still be interrogating his special prisoner right now, pursed his lips and said, “I merely suggested it was too quiet at the Academy, Vicerina. What are the odds of there being absolutely no hint of any anti-government feelings or stirrings during such a large investigation? The Minors should have found something by now…even something insignificant, like a teenager with sour feelings because their grandfather was killed in the Great War. The complete lack of anything is…suspicious, to me.”
The Viceroy considered this thoughtfully before saying, “You believe the Gifted have outsmarted us? That they have found a way to evade our truth-gathering techniques and technology, and are lying to the Provo-Minor en masse?”
“I…don’t know,” Fox wound down, uncertain. “It hardly seems possible, but this just doesn’t feel right to me.”
“It’s true that I would have expected the Minors to find something by now,” Jessamine allowed. “Unless you think the work we’ve done is already paying dividends on deescalating tensions,” she glanced at the Viceroy.
“I doubt it,” her father answered regretfully. “We haven’t made enough progress yet for there to be a noticeable decrease in tensions.”
“Well, then perhaps the Provo-Minor are simply talking to the wrong people,” Jessamine suggested lightly. “I question their process of determining who to interrogate and whether their system is robust.”
“A valid point,” the Viceroy tilted his head to his daughter in acknowledgement. “And one you will investigate,” he addressed the last to Gareth, who nodded.
Topher was staring at the three-dimensional holographic map along the table, particularly the small sections highlighted in red or yellow to indicate where known or suspected anti-government activity had occurred recently. Presently, the map was zoomed out to a view of the entire city of Silveria, so individual areas were very difficult to see. While the others talked around him, he frowned at a section of map and reached into the display to focus in on one area in particular.
The other Majors were still speaking with the Viceroy, but Jessamine was watching Topher zoom in on the map so one section of the big banking district of downtown Silveria was the only thing visible.
“What are you looking for?” the Vicerina asked softly after a minute of watching him pan down different streets, only pausing long enough to confirm there were no yellow or red blocks there before continuing on to the next section.
“Hera,” Topher replied without looking up, reaching into his key ring and extracting a Talent without looking at it.
You have forgotten your purpose…
“Aren’t we all,” grumbled Gareth from across the table, taking notes on the assignment he had just been given.
“There hasn’t been much trouble from the financial district with rebellion,” Fox pointed out. “And why should there be? The economy isn’t in any danger of collapsing from what our analysts can tell; quite the opposite, it is growing steadily. The Viceroy goes to exorbitant efforts to keep the population well-fed and happy, to discourage rebellious feelings.”
“I need to remove myself from the conversation for a minute,” Topher addressed the Viceroy, ignoring Fox entirely. He was eager to equip the Talent and block out any further mental intrusions. The Viceroy tilted his head in agreement, and Topher inserted the Talent into his right enhancer.
He felt the change within himself immediately. The patterns in the map became much sharper in his mind, easier to process and understand on a macro and micro scale. His ability to analyze the data and draw conclusions increased instantly, but it also kept his mind so busy he couldn’t see or hear anything happening around him; he was stuck in his own mind amidst a torrent of information. It wasn’t that he was blind or deaf, per se. His attention was so intensely focused on other things he wasn’t even aware that he had eyes or ears, nor did he care. This particular Talent also dampened some of his more important emotions: empathy, compassion, and kindness, in particular. He felt muted, apathetic to everything except for the figures and models running through his head; it was dangerous to wear this Talent when he needed to deal with other people, lest he say or do anything catastrophic.
He had no idea how long he stayed like that; the passage of time was very difficult to track when he was so inwardly
focused. It felt like a few seconds, but it could have been many minutes; he’d lost track of an entire hour once before without realizing it.
When he returned his focus to the present and removed his Talent it was to see the conversation had carried on without him, though Jessamine turned towards him upon seeing him stir. The moment they made eye contact, she abruptly said, “Well?”
Gareth frowned at being cut off mid-sentence, but since the Viceroy also turned towards Topher expectantly, there was little he could do but allow the interruption.
“We may want to exert more effort into conducting interviews around the finance district.”
“Why?” Fox didn’t bother concealing the skepticism in his tone. “The area hasn’t come to our negative attention in decades, and you think Hera is coordinating her little rebellion from there?”
“Unless she’s a fool—and so far she doesn’t seem to be—she’ll have more than one base of operations, and she’ll meet with different groups of her rebels separately to minimize her losses if any one cell is discovered,” Topher explained easily. “But she has to have a main base established somewhere—near her home, most likely.”
“Why in the heart of downtown?” Fox pressed him, still in a tone of quiet disbelief.
“Why not? Downtown Silveria houses an enormous number of people—she may live there for all we know—and with all of the businesses, there is enough foot and air traffic for anyone to blend in if they’re trying to stay hidden. There are probably thousands of unregistered businesses, abandoned buildings, underground storage areas, and bolt holes downtown we don’t even know about. If I was doing anything illicit, I would make sure I did it in an area that wasn’t crawling with government officials and Provo, which would mean keeping a low profile at my main center of operations.”
