in0 (2 page)

“We are taught that Mother Earth
was strong beyond all mortal imagining,” the dissident priest replied, “and
that She returned herself to holiness many times. Furthermore it has been said
that these Pirates who come out of the past are the Originals…”

“The True!” many priests murmured
not quite under their breath.

“…Does not the Prophecy predict
the return of the Originals…”

“The True!”

“…to Earth?”

“No,” the archpriest denied.
“That is a lie of the Pirates themselves. They are not the Originals!”

“The True!” This time more of the
priests, those firmly in line with the archpriest, spoke the automatic
response.

“How do we know that?” the
dissident pressed.

The archpriest was tempted to
invoke the Holy Law and let it go at that, but he realized that in the Premm
Council that would not be enough. “The Pirates do not claim to be the
Originals,” he responded.

“The True!”

“They claim to be from a time
that predates our holy ancestors,” the archpriest concluded, avoiding the word
“Originals.” He had invoked the emergency rules to avoid that bit of ritual. It
was slowing this process down, but some things were too deeply ingrained,
especially among the priesthood.”

“If they are from before the
Originals,” the dissident leader replied.

“The True!” at least three
quarters of the Council had chanted that time. It annoyed the archpriest.

“…then these Pirates are the true
Originals,” the dissident went on.

“The True!”

“And therefore Mother Earth must
have cleansed herself naturally,” the dissident concluded. “Our work on Earth’s
behalf is finished.”

“You misinterpret the Holy
Prophecy,” the archpriest told the dissident, barely keeping his temper. “The
Originals…”

“The True!” the chant was getting
louder now.

“have yet to return to Earth,
because we, the Premm are the True…”

“We are the True!”

“and we are the Originals…”

“The True!”

“who will return to the cleansed
and purified Earth,” the archpriest concluded triumphantly.

The dissidents were not
convinced. “The Pirates look like Premm,” he pointed out. “They look more like
the Originals than many Premm do, in fact.”

“The True.” It was a soft and
confused murmur again.

“They are not the Premm,” the
archpriest snapped back. “They associate with the abominations. No Premm, no
Original…”

“The True.”

“…would have anything to do with
the abominations! They are not Premm, therefore any claims about the Pirates
being Originals,” the archpriest continued.

“The True!”

“…are invalid!” the archpriest
nearly screamed. He took a deep breath and brought his temper back under
control. “We shall recess for two hours,” he finally told the Council.

Five minutes later, however, he
sat with the nine red-garbed highpriests in his office. “I will call for the
vote when we reconvene,” he informed the inner circle.

“What about the dissidents?” one
of the highpriests asked.

“I am the Voice, am I not?” the
archpriest countered. “They may only dissent by my indulgence. They will come
around and vote in favor of the final solution or be guilty of heresy. You may
pass that down to the Priests of the Fifth. Our allies are truly ready to
attack once more?”

The Highpriest of Graranoa
nodded. “They really were badly hurt by what happened at Owatino and have been
rebuilding ever since. Their Holy Ships have all been specially blessed now,
they tell me and are ready for the Crusade once more.”

“Good. We shall take our vote,”
the archpriest told them, “and then we shall instruct our allies. We are the
Premm!”

“We are the True!” the
Highpriests returned.

“It’s about time you got here,”
Parker Holman grumbled, as he read the latest note to arrive on his computer
pad.

Elsewhere in the office there was
an almost catlike “Mrrr?” followed by, “What was that, Park?” the latter
comment had been made by Marisea Waisau, who among her other responsibilities
had been acting as Park’s administrative assistant as of late.

“My replacement is finally here,”
Park explained.

“About time,” Marisea agreed. She
paused to pet a small feline-seeming creature in her lap. The pet was no
relation to a cat at all and was in fact a member of the only surviving primate
species found on Pangaea Proxima. The creature’s name was Cousin. “We’ve been
stuck on Owatino for nearly two years. You know it’s a nice world to visit, but
I am frankly tired of politics.”

“So you won’t be running for
Prime next term?” Park teased her.

“If nominated I refuse to run,”
she paraphrased from Parker’s own ancient history. “If elected, I will not
serve.”

“Thank you, General Sherman,”
Park replied dryly. “You better not say that too loud when we get back, though.
Refusal to serve might just get you elected anyway. Then what would you do?”

“Keep my campaign promise,”
Marisea laughed. “Seriously, Park, there’s too much I want to do with my life
and politics would just get in the way. It’s a bloody waste of time if you ask
me and we would all be better off without having to worry about a bunch of men
and women who think getting elected means they have the right to tell us how to
live.”

“I fear my own political
viewpoint may have infected you,” Park chuckled.

“Not really,” Marisea shook her
head, causing her long hair to swish back and forth. In her lap, Cousin reached
up a small hand to swat at the hair playfully as it glided past. “I’m not saying
anything Dad hasn’t said hundreds of times. Why do you think we met in the
middle of the Zontisso River? If Dad had any political aspirations at all he
would have been either serving as Prime of Sanatis or constantly campaigning to
do so. I’m just as glad he didn’t want the job. Exploring is lots more fun.”

“I think so too,” Park agreed,
“and maybe we can get back to that when we return to Earth. Do you know
anything about Prime Seradore?”

“Isn’t he the Prime of Senchi?”
Marisea asked.

“Not anymore,” Park replied.
“He’s the new ambassador to the Alliance of Confederated Worlds.”

“It is still proper to address
him as ‘Prime,’ however,” Marisea informed him, “but ambassador is correct as
well. I think he was considered next in line to get Prime Terius’ job.”

“If he has been chosen as
ambassador,” Park returned, “he probably still is.”

“Could be,” Marisea nodded. “So
where is he?”

“He just arrived in Owatino
System aboard
Independent
,” Park told
her.

“
Independent
?” Marisea echoed. “Who’s captaining our ship now?”

“Tina Linea,” Park responded,
“and she’s her ship now.
 
Anyway, they
just broke back into normal space and are inside the Stierdach limit and headed
here. It will be a few days at least.”

“Oh,” Marisea sighed. “I was
hoping they had landed already.”

“Homesick?” Park chided her.

“A little,” Marisea admitted,
“but I was back on Earth just last year. You’re the only one who hasn’t had a
vacation since we landed on this world.”

“Tell me about it!” Park laughed.
“Well, we’ll have a nice relaxing voyage home soon and who knows? Maybe I’ll
get a day or two off before the first crisis.”

“Huh! Colonel Theoday won’t give
you the time,” she predicted. “I’ll give you any odds he’ll have a list of
chores that will keep you penned up in Van Winkletown the moment we land.”

“I’m sure he will,” Park agreed,
“but most of those chores are bound to be mine in the first place.”

“Park, he’s thrown a lot of tasks
your way over the years that had nothing to do with the Exploration Corps,”
Marisea reminded him.

“Well, it’s been two years,” Park
shrugged. “Maybe by now he’s found a new sucker to do the work for him.” There
was a chime just then, indicating someone was outside the office and requesting
to enter. “Come in!”

The door opened to reveal a tall
man with green skin and hair, although there was more than a little gray mixed
with the green in his hair and beard. “Lord Rebbert,” Park greeted him. “What
news on the Rialto?”

“Rialto?” the Lord of the Planet
Dennsee asked, awash to the ancient literary allusion.

“I was quoting Shakespeare,” Park
began to explain.

“Who?”

“So much for the Immortal Bard,”
Park sighed.

“I caught the reference, Park,”
Marisea assured him. “
The Merchant of
Venice
, right? Or was that
Kiss Me,
Kate?
”

“Maybe both,” Park shrugged,
“Although
Kiss me Kate
was about actors
who were performing a musical version of
The
Taming of the Shrew
. How did we get to Broadway?”

“Lots of rehearsals,” Marisea
quipped.

“Someday I will have to spend a
decade or two studying ancient Earth just so I will know what you two are
talking about,” Lord Rebbert decided. “In any case, why did you invite me here
this morning?”

“Oh,” Park tried to recall what
had been on his mind.

“I believe you wanted to discuss
the latest intelligence about the Premm,” Marisea reminded him.

“Oh, right,” Park nodded,
“although that sort of got knocked out of my mind by the latest news. It seems
my replacement has finally been chosen and should be here in a few days.”

“No offense intended, my friend,”
Rebbert responded, “but it might make my life a little easier when I have a
diplomat from Earth to work with.”

“I haven’t been all that bad,
have I?” Park asked.

“Not in most cases,” Rebbert
allowed, “but you do have a bit of a blind spot regarding the Premm.”

“You mean the so-called Holy
Empire?” Park countered. “That is what they are calling themselves these days,
isn’t it?”

“We think so, yes,” Rebbert
allowed. “Admittedly that sounds a bit grandiose for a collection of a mere
nine worlds.”

“On ancient Earth,” Park replied,
“Empires never covered the entire world, nevermind several of them.”

“But they did include more than a
single culture didn’t they?” Rebbert pressed.

“I suppose they did,” Park
agreed. “Well, most of the true empires did, anyway. A few were just trumped up
monarchies with delusions of grandeur, if you ask me.”

“Well, there you are then,”
Rebbert nodded. “In any case, it has been difficult for our allies to
understand why you want to send a military expedition to the Premm Worlds. It
has never been our way to force any world to be a member of the Alliance.”

“How many former member worlds
have you been at war with?” Park retorted.

“We are not officially at war
with the Premm,” Rebbert countered. “They have not declared war on us nor have
we on them. Keep in mind that we have no real proof that the Dark Ship aliens
are allies of the Premm. Certainly the Premm have never admitted as such nor
has any Premm ship attacked anyone within the Alliance.”

“You’ll have to forgive me if I
don’t believe a word of that,” Park grumbled.

“It’s true,” Rebbert insisted. “I
do agree with you, but you have to realize that with the lack of direct contact
with the Premm and the fact that no one has seen a Dark Ship in nearly two
years, most delegates to the Diet believe the danger has passed.”

“They’re wrong, of course,” Park
insisted. “The Premm have stated publically on many occasions that their
religion demands that the Earth and all her inhabitants be destroyed. No one in
their right mind believes that the Premm have changed their minds on that
point.”

“The Premm have been saying that
for over a thousand years, though,” Rebbert told him patiently. “Most of our
allies are comfortable in the belief the Premm will wait another thousand
years, maybe longer before their prophecy comes true. Most religions are
content to wait for a prophecy to come true on its own, you know.”

“I don’t really believe that of
the Premm especially with the latest news,” Park responded.

“What news?” Rebbert inquired.

“While we may not be fighting an
active war,” Park noted, “we do, fortunately, have reconnaissance ships
patrolling near the Premm Worlds.”

“And one or two spy ships that
slip in and out of their systems as well,” Marisea added.

“I’m aware of that,” Rebbert
smiled. “My committee authorized their missions.”

“Then I’m surprised you haven’t
heard about the increased military activity in the Premm systems,” Park
replied.

“Military?” Rebbert asked. “I’m
not sure we can categorize it as such.”

“Oh? Do the Premm use carriers as
cargo vessels?” Park shot back, “and do those carrier cargo vessels customarily
travel with six or more escort vessels?”

“The Premm are allowed to patrol
their own systems,” Rebbert replied, “especially now that they are independent
of the Alliance.”

“I don’t recall that they had any
active warships in the Alliance Fleet when they were members,” Park noted.

“Participation in the Fleet is
encouraged, but not required,” Rebbert replied uncomfortably. “I will admit
that I was not aware that the Premm had as many military ships as we have noted
of late.”

“I suspect,” Marisea offered,
“that a lot of them were either hastily converted over the last two years or have
been doing double duty for a long time. But I do hope you don’t expect
Ambassador Seradone to be any less of an activist against the Premm than Park
has been. They consider us Mer to be abominations and kept us bottled up on
Earth of a very long time. We aren’t likely to ever forget that.”

“I don’t suppose you will, dear,”
Rebbert assured her, “and I sympathize with you, but from a political
standpoint we could lose our most vital allies if we attacked the Premm without
provable provocation.”