The IX (44 page)

Looking Sebbi directly in the eye, he concluded, “We’ve just been warned of an impending attack. And I’ve got the damndest feeling this visit was staged to make us aware that not all the Horde are happy about that. In fact, someone wants to extend an olive branch.”

“From within their own ranks?”

“It certainly looks that way. Which raises all sorts of questions, doesn’t it? Thankfully, much more agile minds than mine will get a chance to stew on it . . . .”

Scanning the room, Tiberius located his optio among the growing press of people. “Lucius? Get me Rhomane on the com-link.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Weights and Measures

 
“Before we draw this extraordinary meeting to a close,” Mohammed proclaimed formally, “would anyone else like to make a final statement?” He paused to survey the full complement of leaders and command staff the city had to offer. The debate had ground on for over three long hours, but he was impressed to find everyone still keenly alert and paying close attention.

Someone cleared their throat.

I thought he’d be the one to lead the way
. “The chair recognizes Lieutenant Alan McDonald.” Mohammed gestured to the speaker’s circle. “If you please?”

The battle-hardened warrior stood, and with the eyes of the crowd upon him, made his way down the steps. Some spectators murmured words of encouragement as he passed. Most remained silent.

As Mac assumed his position, he was bathed in the ethereal glow of a gentle blue radiance. The metallic voice of the recording sentinel intoned, “You may speak.”

“I’m not going to drag things out,” he began, fixing both Mohammed and Saul with a cold, hard look. “We’ve split enough hairs, and been here long enough as it is. Nevertheless, there is something you need to consider when you deliberate your decision.

“It may surprise you to know that despite my gruff exterior, I was a student of the classics in university. I’d like to share an aspect of the tale of Pandora with you, because basically, although most people have heard of Pandora’s Box, few actually know the history behind her story.

“The fable tells us that the first human woman, Pandora, was created by the deities Hephaestus and Athena, who acted on instructions from Zeus. However, Zeus, in retribution for the theft of the secret of fire by Prometheus, ordered Pandora to be fabricated from the mundane elements of the earth. He felt it only right that his punishment upon mankind should limit Pandora’s power and influence over them. Hephaestus and Athena thought that cruel. Therefore, they saw to it that each of their fellow gods contributed a unique gift to Pandora’s makeup, hoping she would be a more philanthropic example to her kin. As a sign of their confidence, the deities entrusted a sacred jar into her care, within which lay all the evils of mankind. Who better, they thought, to safeguard such a device than she who was created to bestow beautiful gifts on others wherever she went?

“You all know the story. Pandora became increasingly inquisitive as to the contents of the vessel in her charge. Although passing centuries and the retelling of this tale changed the identity of the jar into a box, the result is the same. Her curiosity got the better of her, and Pandora peeked inside. Thus were the woes of the world released, leaving only hope to battle against them. For as we now appreciate, once unleashed, they could not be bound or contained again.”

“What’s your point, Lieutenant?” Mohammed asked. “And why would this parable have any bearing on our eventual decision?”

“I don’t think you can see the wood for the trees,” Mac said. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not having a go. Things have been crazy around here lately, so it’s no wonder certain details got missed. But sometimes you have to take a step back and look at your objective from a different angle.”

“Would you be kind enough to clarify those remarks?”

“Certainly. Never forget, I’m a cold-hearted pragmatist. A specialist and a killer, who’s walked the halls of a harsh and bloody reality for more years than I care to remember. I’m trained to spot loose threads and make connections. That’s how I’ve stayed alive for so long in such a violent world. And that’s why I’m positive you’re missing the real issue, even though it appears too fantastic to be true. For example, it’s a fact that two people, separated by what, fifteen, sixteen hundred years, were snatched from the jaws of certain death and brought to the other side of the galaxy at a time and place when their particular gifts were needed. It’s also true they were privy to some pretty distinctive visions, or dreams. Hell, call them hallucinations if you want to. But try as you might, you can’t deny their experiences were too similar in nature to be a coincidence. Especially when you take into account the details of the quest they actually shared together. You know these people. Their characters. Their reputations. They wouldn’t come forward unless they were certain they were right. Why then, are you so ready to dismiss their conviction that the salvation of two different worlds depends on us following a course of action revealed to them by a higher power? Why on earth would they dream up a scenario like that? Why would they then make it even more unbelievable by adding a large dose of the Horde and their damned vortexes into the equation?”

Mohammed snorted to himself.
Nice one, Mac. Because, of course, they
wouldn’t
dream of making up such hogwash.
“So, what threads do you think we’ve missed?”

“The ones that have been right under your noses all along. For years you’ve fought a losing battle against the Horde. Then we
showed up. The ninth intake. Because of us, you got used to the idea of iron as a deterrent. Because of us, the Horde began making repeated attempts to communicate instead of tearing you apart on the spot. And for the first time,
because of us
, you gained an experienced shaman who could not only make sense of the smorgasbord of cryptic episodes we’ve been inundated with since, but who could also act as a mentor to a hidden diamond within your own ranks. Why the changes? Why now? Why the corresponding visions? Whatever your beliefs, there are just too many fluky events happening left, right, and center to ignore the obvious.

“I mean, c’mon. Do you seriously think yesterday’s incident out at the mining site was a coincidence? For God’s sake, just think of what our beastly friends had to go through to penetrate the null-point defenses. In an area saturated with iron? In a camp full of heavily armed people, where just one prick of the blood metal would mean instant death?”

Damn, but that’s a good argument.
Mohammed glanced at Saul, trying to gauge his reaction. As usual in situations like this, his closest friend wore the blankest poker face he had ever seen.

The lieutenant must have caught the brief exchange for he concluded, “If by any chance you’re still undecided, don’t worry. I’ve saved the best for last. I take it you all remember my little experience out at the spaceport? You know, when I led the teams to retrieve the
Promulus
and
Tarion Star
?” He waited while the command staff acknowledged his statement. “Have any of you, at any time, stopped to consider this little stunner? How would a mindless monster from another part of the galaxy know to warn us with the example of Pandora? How would it have heard of the name, much less understood the parable behind the story?”

A tangible shock radiated around the auditorium. Everything went still.

Stuff me! How did we miss
that
little doozy?

Pandemonium erupted, filling the chamber with shouts of support and calls for further debate.

Mac stood silently amid the chaos, staring directly into Saul’s eyes. Then he turned his attention to Mohammed. Cocking his head to one side, the soldier raised an eyebrow as if mocking them both for their lack of insight. He spun on his heel, and strode away from the circle.

“Order!” Mohammed shouted, his amplified voice lifting above the din. “Please, ladies and gentlemen, remember where we are.”

As Mac made his way back up the steps to reclaim his seat next to Jayden Cole, the ruckus subsided.

Mohammed didn’t miss the repeated backslaps and handshakes Mac received along the way.
He’s a popular man. And as sharp as a pin . . . .

He then remembered to consider his friend’s reaction.

Saul’s blank expression had been replaced by a wide-eyed look of amazement. Trying to diffuse the awkwardness of the situation, Mohammed leaned in and whispered, “I know he’s a hands-on kinda guy, but by God, he’s on the ball. I wouldn’t mind that insight being put to better use on the command staff. You’ve got to admit, he sees things differently than the rest of us.”

Saul grunted. “You’ve got that right. He damned near took my balls off with that one. We’ll discuss it as soon as this . . . circus is over. I don’t know how many more slaps in the face I can take.”

“Now don’t get sulky,” Mohammed chided, “you know it wasn’t personal. Not with him. He’s not afraid to speak his mind, and we need his kind of steel to keep us on our toes. Like it or not, that was one hell of a delivery . . . hang on a second.”

Mohammed noticed a measure of calmness had been restored, so he addressed the room. “The chair thanks Lieutenant McDonald for his most insightful address.” He surveyed the hall once more. “Anyone else? Perhaps someone who is willing to be a little . . . gentler?”

His attempt at humor worked. Bursts of barely suppressed laughter and a smattering of brief applause resounded around the chamber.

Three people stood up. Ayria Solram, Stained-With-Blood, and Cathal MacNoimhin.
Hello? This might drag on.

“If the chair wouldn’t mind,” Ayria called out, “we’ve each prepared a very brief statement. Can’t we just say a sentence or two from here?”

The command team regarded each other before shrugging in agreement. Mohammed replied, “The chair recognizes Ayria Solram, Stained-With-Blood, and Cathal MacNoimhin. If you could please wait a moment for the recorder sentinels to come over to you?”

An orb materialized over each of their heads. A familiar light radiated down over Ayria first, and the drone declared, “You may speak.”

“Look,” Ayria began, “I freely admit I haven’t got a clue why I saw the things I did. I just know I experienced them as if they were as real and corporeal as the room we’re in now. I’m a doctor, sworn to save life in any way I can. Perhaps that’s why I’m so adamant we need to listen to what’s been revealed. In fact, I’m utterly convinced we should. Please don’t dismiss the visions just because they’re beyond the realms of normal understanding.”

She sat back down.

Eh?
She wasn’t kidding when she said they’d be brief.

The next sentinel introduced Stained-With-Blood. The distinguished old man took his time to survey the crowd before speaking. “Once again I stand before you as spokesman for the First Peoples of the Cree. Although you have little regard for our ways, we know the wisdom of following Napioa’s guidance. If the choice were up to us, we would take the path he has revealed to enlightenment. However, as we now belong to a greater community, we will add our strength to whatever course you deem worthy.”

Bowing formally, he reclaimed his seat among his fellow chieftains.

Then it was Cathal MacNoimhin’s turn. After being invested, he said, “The five tribes are united under my lead. We don’t pretend to understand much of the dark deeds and fey tidings that have taken place of late. The only thing we know for certain is the circle. We are born. We live. We fight, and we die. If we die well, our tales will endure through the generations. And we want our names to live forever. So whatever you decide, Alan McDonald, Saul Cameron, we trust you both. The pair of you carry the blood of our descendants in your veins. Your heritage is true. We will fight for you, either way.”

As Cathal slumped down among his clan leaders, a background hubbub sprang up again. All heads turned toward the raised gallery.

Saul gestured, and the din petered out almost immediately.

“It would appear I have a great deal to think about,” he murmured, “and it’s not something I care to rush. But neither can I delay . . . for too long, anyway.” His voice became stronger. “But I’ve always gone with my gut. It’s got me this far, and it’s helped us endure. I see no reason to start doubting it now. My dear friends, we will reconvene at twelve noon tomorrow, at which time I will give you my answer.”

Saul rose from his seat, nodded briefly to the fellow officers on his command team, and made his way from the hall via a private doorway on the upper tier.

Mohammed felt unnerved.
He’s clearly on edge. I’d better get after him and see if he needs help emptying his decanter.
“This meeting has now ended,” he declared. “I’ll see you all before lunch tomorrow. And please, let the commander be. He’s got a lot to weigh up tonight, and the last thing he needs is a stream of constant distractions. If you have any gripes, bring them to me. Understood?”

Seeing that he had most people’s agreement, Mohammed left by the same exit and rushed to catch up.

*

Lingering at the extremities of the Gulf of Tears, Angule cast his mind into the darkest depths of the void once more. Gossamer-light, his touch was refined to a superlative degree, giving no indication whatsoever that anyone was concealed within the overlapping layers of reality. The humans in their tiny settlement on the far side of the chasm went about their business with an urgency that reminded him of insects in a nest. But that was understandable. His last visit had frightened them badly.

Hopefully, it will motivate them to an appropriate course of action.

The vext rippled, indicating someone with the appropriate cipher was asking to be let through. Replying with the corresponding pulse, he unlocked the protective wards and watched as the portal solidified, before reforming into a makeshift transport helix.

A brief throb of energy accompanied the moment spacetime was turned inside out, and Raum materialized before him. No sooner had she manifested than she slammed her shield into place and sealed the rift behind her.