Ephialtes (Ephialtes Trilogy Book 1)
Read Ephialtes (Ephialtes Trilogy Book 1) Online
Authors: Gavin E Parker
EPHIALTES
Gavin E
Parker
Ephialtes
Version
1.0.6
Published
2015 by
parcom
entertainment
Copyright
© 2015 by Gavin E Parker
This
book is copyright under the Berne convention. No reproduction without
permission.
All
rights reserved.
The
right of Gavin E Parker to be identified as the author of this work has been
asserted by him in accordance with sections 77 and78 of the Copyright, Designs
and Patents Act, 1988.
Excerpt
from
The Iliad
taken from A T Murray’s translation, public domain
So
suffered Ares, when
Otus
and mighty Ephialtes, the
sons of
Aloeus
, bound him in cruel bonds, and in a
brazen jar he lay bound for thirteen months; and then would Ares, insatiate of
war, have perished, had not the stepmother of the sons of
Aloeus
,
the beauteous
Eëriboea
, brought tidings unto Hermes;
and he stole forth Ares, that was now sore distressed, for his grievous bonds
were overpowering him.
Homer,
The
Iliad
Book V
C H A P T E
R 1
The
War is
Over
He smacked
the oak surface twice with an open palm, the
slap-slap
cutting
through the burbling speech around the table, reducing it to one or two voices
which quickly trailed off to silence. “The president has been delayed for
a second time, so I’m just going to kick things off here and get some of this
out of the way so we can get right to it when he arrives in,” he half turned in
his chair and a Secret Service man stepped forward, cupping his hand to his
mouth as he leant in and whispered into the senator’s ear. The senator
nodded ‘thank you’ and the Secret Service man stood back, scanning the
perimeters of the room. The senator continued “. . . the
latest we have on that is about three minutes.”
The secretary
of defence was seated a few places down the large cabinet table. She
glanced up from her notes. “What is it this time?”
The senator
looked over. “They’ve had another teleconference on the apron at Love
Field. Just straightening out some kinks. Don’t worry, this is
happening.” The senator drew a line through something on the papers in
front of him. He looked up over the glasses perched on the end of his
nose and, glancing around the table, he cleared his throat. “The time is
15:04 on this January 22, 2241. I’ve been instructed by President Cortes
to open this meeting and brief you all on the historic announcement the
president will be making at five o’clock this evening.” A brief sound of
whispered chatter skittered around the table. “Progress at Jakarta and
Mumbai has been good, and what you’ve been hearing in the news reports is
largely accurate. The president wants to make the formal announcement to
you himself, but I can tell you the news is good.” There was another wave
of chatter. For the first time the senator allowed himself a smile.
“You can appreciate that this is privileged information and that,” he grinned,
“for the rest of the afternoon, at least, we remain at war. So if any of
you sons of bitches let this out we’ll have you for treason.” There was
good natured laughter, the chatter now louder still and more excited.
The senator
spoke again. “One more thing.” He glanced down at the sheaf of
papers before him on the desk. There was nothing for him to read there
but he knew it would add some solemnity to what he was about to say.
“It’s been a long and difficult road to get to this point. Some of our
young men and women have made the ultimate sacrifice for their country, for our
safety, and for the protection of all we hold dear. I think it would be
appropriate for us to spend a few moments in silent reflection on the great
sacrifice that has been made, and on those who made it. Would you please
all stand.”
Around the
table cabinet members began to rise. The last sounds of shuffling feet
faded and they stood in silence, heads bowed.
Gerard White
slipped into the room as the rest of the cabinet retook their seats. As
he strode to his place near the head of the table he caught the senator’s
eye. “One minute,” he mouthed, also making a ‘one’ hand gesture. As
he slipped into his seat an aide quickly placed some documents in front of him,
but he paid no attention. He was looking at the senator. “Well,
Peter, it’s a great day, and a great achievement for the administration,
especially your guys up on the hill.”
After a pause
the senator replied. “A great day indeed. We couldn’t have done it
without you, Gerard. We’re all grateful.”
White waved a
hand. “Oh, come on now. Team effort. We’re all in this thing
together, you know that.”
The senator
gave a stilted nod. “I guess so.”
There was a
sudden scrape of chairs and, instinctively following the others about them,
White and the senator rose to their feet.
President Cortes
strode quickly to the head of the cabinet table flanked by two Secret Service
agents, his assistant trailing a little behind. “Please, sit,” he
gestured, grabbing the back of his chair and throwing a commanding glance about
the room. “I want to thank you all for coming. I’m sorry I’m a
little late, but I guess these things never run smoothly. Anyway, we’re
all here now, so let’s get on with it.” As he stepped around the chair
one of the Secret Service women pulled it out for him and he sat down.
The assistant placed some papers in front of him and moved the pre-poured
glass of water two centimetres closer, like she knew that was just where he
needed it. He half-turned and nodded ‘thank you’, picking up the
top sheet and quickly skimming down it before he started to speak.
“I have come
here this afternoon directly from Jakarta where, as you know, I have been
personally overseeing the final stages of the USAN delegation’s negotiations
with President Tsou, Prime Minister
Takisawa
and
General
Nkemjika
. This third and last series of
mediations has been the most difficult and delicate of all attempts at
negotiation so far, particularly in light of the recent incidents in Reykjavik
and Boston. There were many moments when hope faded, and it seemed we would
walk away with nothing. But, through the great and tireless work of our
negotiators, we did not walk away with nothing.”
There was a
murmur around the table, which the president rose his hand to quell.
“Ladies,
gentlemen, it is my proud duty to inform you that at 12:00pm today, 22 January
2241, I put my signature to the accords, along with President Tsou, Prime
Minister
Takisawa
and General
Nkemjika
,
ending current hostilities as of 17:00hrs, Eastern Standard Time, this
afternoon.”
A cheer
rolled around the table and the president allowed himself a smile. “At
that time I will make a,” he paused to allow the noise to subside,
“. . . at that time I will make a public address to the nation
and the world, and the fourth world wide war will be at an end.” There
was a second wave of cheering, stronger this time as at first a few then the
entire cabinet rose to their feet, clapping and whooping. The president
soaked it in, taking the hands offered to him and shaking them firmly, an
automatic politician’s response.
“Let’s hear
it for the president!” The call came from halfway down the table and was
met with a huge cheer. The president stood and raised two hands above his
head, outstretched, a familiar gesture to anyone who had followed his
campaigns. He angled his head down in faux humility and thrust his hands
slightly forwards and upwards, the gesture answered by a surge of cheers.
He held the pose for a few seconds, then dropped one arm to his side while the
other waved to the far end of the table. He looked about the room, making
individual eye contact with nods here and small gestures there, working the
place like the true professional he was.
The senator
held out his hand. “Congratulations, Mr President.”
“Thank you,
Peter,” the president said, quickly shaking then moving on to the next
proffered hand.
Presently,
Cortes gestured for the cabinet to be seated, and the hubbub died down.
“The past few years have not been easy. On this day we can celebrate and,
Lord knows, no one should deny us that. But there is still a great deal
to do. We have lost so much; men and women, materiel and yes, a little
bit of faith, too. We have now to regain our strength, rebuild our
countries and redouble our efforts to make these United States and Nations once
again into the great paragon of virtue and freedom that we know them to be.
“I have to go
now to prepare my address, thank you and God bless you all.” He walked
down the room to the exit, pausing only once to shake an offered hand and laugh
politely at the quip offered with it, then he was gone.
White
spoke. “‘
Once again into the great paragon of freedom
.’ So
does that mean elections?”
The senator
shuffled in his seat and coughed. “This is rhetoric at this time but with
the war over there can be no reason to continue with the suspension of
elections. I think that’s clear.”
“And that’s
going to be in the address, tonight?”
The senator
frowned. “Gerard, today is a celebration. The war’s over, we won.”
“What did we
win? Last time I looked at a map, or at a balance sheet, we’ve won diddly-squat.
The latest reports from the treasury show that -”
The senator
was holding up his hand. “Gerard, Gerard, what we’ve won, today, is peace
with honour and that’s what’s going in the address tonight, Peace with Honour.
We’ve had seven very difficult years of fighting, and six difficult months of
negotiations, and now here we are, where we want to be, with the fighting over
and a new dawn of rebuilding and prosperity around the corner. The
suspension of elections is just one of many sacrifices we’ve had to make in
order to achieve this goal. But the war’s over now,” he could barely
believe he was saying the words, “and the suspension of elections is one of
many issues we will come to address in the very near future.”
White stared
across the table at him, trying to read his face, which remained
inscrutable. “But for now, elections remain suspended?”
“For
now. We’ll get to it. I happen to know that the president sees it
as a level one priority. He hated to do it, you know. We had to
persuade him.”
White
snorted. “Hated to do it? I hate it too. And I’m going to
keep on at this until he makes it right.”
“Gerard, you
worry too much. This isn’t some tin-pot republic. This is the
United States and Nations.”
White backed
down, thumbing through his papers. The senator spoke now to the room,
louder. “That’s it folks! War’s over, you can all go back to
bed!” White stood up, gathered his papers and left, mixing in with the
assorted cabinet members, aides and Secret Service personnel filing towards the
door.
The senator
was deep in conversation with one of his advisers, who had slipped into a
vacated seat to his right. The adviser was holding a paper on the table
in front of the senator, moving his finger across some lines about a third of
the way down the page. The senator was shaking his head. “No, no,
they have to wait. And it can’t go out like that, have Spector re-draught
it.”
Farrell stood
behind the senator and waited for an opening. The senator had seen him approach
and was well aware of his presence but made him wait all the same, stretching
out the conversation with the aide far longer than was strictly
necessary. Eventually he turned and, as though taken by surprise said,
“Farrell! You need a minute?” Farrell remained standing.
“I do,
actually, Senator.”
The senator
gestured. “Take a seat, I’ll be right with you.” Farrell and two
assistants took up seats opposite the senator. The room had emptied
now. Farrell waited while the senator scribbled notes on the papers in
front of him, then handed them off to his aide. “See that he gets this
right away,” he said, then turned to Farrell. “What can I do for you?”
“It’s Mars,
Senator.”
“Mars?”
“Yes,
sir. We’ve been monitoring communications and modelling population growth
and industrial production, and we think there is reasonable cause for concern.”
“You
do. Why?”
“You’re aware
of the Kasugai study, published last year?”
“Should I
be?”
“Well, the study
showed that, theoretically at least, Mars has been capable of total
independence from Earth for the last eight years. That is to say, the
population is now large enough, and production is big enough and varied enough,
for Mars to maintain its current status, in terms of economy, population and
production, without any,” he repeated for effect, “
without any
input
from, or indeed trade with, Earth.”
The senator
eyed him quizzically. “That’s great, isn’t it? We’ve conquered
another world, a historic feat.”
“Well,
Senator, it is a great achievement, I’ll grant you that much. But what if
the Martians decide
they’ve
conquered another world?”
“
Decide .
. .”
“It’s like
this, Senator. They don’t need us. Some of the younger Martians now
are fourth, even fifth generation. Most of them have never been here,
heck, most of them couldn’t afford to come here if they wanted to. They
don’t feel any allegiance to us. Remember, the most vocal anti-war
movement was based on Mars.”
The senator
brought his hand up to his chin and rubbed it thoughtfully. “And they’re
talking about this, are they, the Martians?”
“Well yes,
sir, it seems they are. We’ve been monitoring coms across the planet and
between planets and it does seem that this idea is out there. The war has
alienated lots of people and the idea of Martian independence or a so-called
Free Mars -”
“
Sheez
!” the senator said, unable to help himself.
