Two
"Executor General Gorlon Hague," announced a gentle
woman's voice.
Gorlon Hague stepped inside a round office with a
flattened ceiling. The weight of his mechanical body containing what
remained of his flesh and blood made no sound on the dark floor surface,
but it was the flesh and blood of him that appreciated the luxurious
Covonian plants illuminated by ultraviolet lamps growing along the walls.
Directly above a crescent-shaped desk, supplemental lighting took the form
of a warm yellow sun peeking from behind a bank of moving clouds, a moving
hologram of Sol, sun of Earth, humanity's ancient home irrevocably lost
somewhere among the stars.
Council Prime Executive Basil Whalyk of the Covonian
Ruling Council sat at the desk. He wore the avatar of a distinguished
looking male in his mid-fifties. In reality, Basil was Gorlon's own age,
roughly six hundred standard years. Gorlon had known him when he had gone
naked in the world in his own body. He was much nicer to look at in this
form.
Basil's desk crawled with moving patterns of light
and form, the language of the Techs that spoke of the moment to moment
dynamics of Bolphan and the nine other cities of Covonia. He glanced up
and murmured, "Ah, our second in command. Nice to see you in the flesh
again." He grinned broadly. "So to speak."
"What there is left of me," Gorlon grumbled, not at
all insulted by the bantering of a man who was also battling the decline
of his human body tucked safely away aboard the Ark. Of the half million
citizens of Covonia, only Gorlon and his second in command, Shesel
Dhemonis, utilized mechanical prosthetics to contain the part of their own
flesh and blood that had survived the Hive War. Once, ages ago, an Ark
had been destroyed in the Hive War, killing millions. Bodies were still
far more secure in the Ark, and his preference was not a rational one, but
so be it.
And Shesel had tied her fate with his own, as he
would have been willing to tie his with hers.
"I'm surprised that you requested an audience," Basil
said. "I would never have guessed that you had political ambition,
certainly none as high as the position of Covonian Overlord. You do
understand that you would continue in your present capacity as Executor
General regardless of who eventually takes Khalin Nome's place. The
Overlord allows Covonia to speak with one voice, but it is you who wield
the power to implement that voice. We would have it no other way."
Gorlon had no political ambitions. He was doing what
had to be done for reasons Basil must never know about. "Sir, I state
with the utmost respect for Khalin Nome that our Overlord no longer speaks
with a coherent voice. As the situation stands, I find myself more and
more often obeying directives that should have been issued, seldom those
that are."
Basil nodded gravely. "I understand your position.
Khalin has been little more than a figurehead for many years now. His
intensifying senility is leaving in its wake a political vacuum of sorts.
I'm sure you're aware of the problems we're having in the Council, the
philosophical rifts, the political posturing, even open threats of
branching."
"We can afford to branch," Gorlon said, hoping to
sound casual. "We have ten cities, a population of one half million.
Another may attract undue Hive attention. Allowing me to fill the
position as Overlord will ensure a smooth transition and will give the
Council the time it needs to decide upon the matter at its leisure."
Basil leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms
self-defensively across his chest. "We are honored by your loyalty and
your service to the community. Certainly nobody else is more qualified.
But I'm not so certain we can afford to lose a city, not the Secondary
Executive's Tasia, which would be the most likely candidate to branch.
Laitin Doen is a thorn in your side, I understand, so I can't help
suspecting that allowing Tasia to branch would remove that thorn for you.
From what I understand, Does shares your sentiments. He doesn't much
like you either."
"Doen is a vegetable," Gorlon said, letting some of
his anger slip past his defenses. "Doen basks in any spotlight directed
his way and bends with every breeze. Doen doesn't care whether Tasia
leaves or stays. All he wants is power."
Basil chuckled. "I concur. Laitin will not achieve
his lofty political ambitions. He'll certainly never make Overlord. But
he carries weight with the Council, and he's right in one respect. Once
Khalin is gone, our unpleasant ties with the past will have been severed.
You would keep those ties alive. Remember that we are exiles, a refugee
colony, but the crime was Khalin's, and you were Khalin's
second-in-command even then."
Gorlon bristled with visible indignation, and tried
to hide a twinge of genuine fear. This was the crux of the crisis.
Khalin Nome was keeping secrets from those distant days of turmoil. He
had far too many data files encrypted, files containing information that
could incriminate himself and his close associates. He wanted access to
those files before Khalin's successor pried too deeply into the former
Overlord's affairs. "It will accomplish nothing to turn our backs upon
our own history," he said softly. "It may not be prudent to do so, or
even particularly wise."
Basil's casual air hardened. "Please, be more
specific, Gorlon. I'm not at all fond of vague warnings that can as
easily be misconstrued as threats."
Gorlon knew that he was a hard man to read on the
outside. Eighty percent of human communication was nonverbal. Without a
human face and body with which to issue subtle expression and gesture, he
had nothing but blunt words to use, and no way to sway Basil emotionally
with a smile or a scowl.
"I imply no threats. My position is difficult."
Basil held out his hands, palms up. "Interpret
Khalin's voice as you please. You will not be challenged over the petty
day-to-day decisions of the policing of our peaceful little community.
Khalin does pose a problem. Let the Ruling Council deal with it in its
own time. That's what we are elected by the community to do."
Gorlon had a mechanical head of sorts with which to
nod agreement, although his human brain and surviving essential organs
were contained in his chest area. He had human-like arms and legs with
which to turn himself about and leave the room. Behind him, a door closed
and blocked the light of the yellow sun.
He paused in front of a corridor elevator, thinking
that he had been rendered impotent by Basil's apathy. He could do nothing
to influence or anticipate Khalin's erratic behavior directly. Khalin
couldn't be reasoned with. There was too little left of him except for
the pain and the regret and anguish he had kept alive for longer than most
men had ever lived.
Gorlon broke free of his reverie and stepped into the
waiting elevator. Khalin Nome's suffering was not his concern. He had
secrets of his own to keep, and far more was at stake than his
reputation. Khalin's life was at an end. Should any of his encrypted
files contain information the Alliance had demanded be destroyed five
hundred year ago, the Alliance would not let him live long enough to be
executed. The same could be said of his followers, and even of Covonia
itself.
