Branegate (32 page)

“We’re not in that business, Wallace,” said Meza.

“The new guy is. Let him handle it.”

Meza shook his head. “The new guy, as he puts it, is John Haight, and he’s the one coming to see you tonight. He wants to meet with you alone.”

“I’ll be there,” said Trae, and glanced at Myra.

“I’ll be at work. A lot of extrapolations to do for Guppy.” She pushed back her chair, and stood up.

Call me when you’re finished with him.

Okay.

“Well, we’ve had a great day, but if you think this was a breakthrough just wait until Guppy flies.”

“Ugliest ship I’ve ever seen,” said Meza, and laughed.

“Looks aren’t everything,” quipped Wallace. “Take me, for example.”

Myra just shook her head at him.

He was exhausted, but still giddy from the events of the day. Trae’s dinner in the cafeteria was a synthburger and protein bar, and he took a taxi home. His apartment complex was a two-story square of units around a central plaza with a pool and scalding sauna he used every evening before sleep. Twice he’d talked to his parents from there, and was eager to talk to them again. The fleet of The Bishops would have made transit by now, and be hurtling towards them at half light speed. Plenty of time, one might think, but no time for sloth.

His second floor apartment overlooked the pool. The sun was just setting when he let himself in. The air smelled of lavender and sandalwood, masking the old odors of overcooked, frozen dinners. A living room, dining room, bedroom and kitchen were spread over a thousand square feet, roomy and comfortable for just him. His computer was in the dining room, and with peripherals filled the area. A holoviewer in the front room was rarely used, and a table in front of a couch was heaped with technical journals. He ate at a small table in the kitchen.

He changed clothes, trading suit for swim trunks and a loose-fitting shirt, and settled himself in front of his computer. The model he and Myra had been working on several nights before was still there. Before his eyes the model was changing, a complex array of geometrical shapes rotating, shifting positions, their intersections representing solutions to families of equations. Myra was working on it at her station in the plant, and upgrading his file as she progressed. They often worked together at a distance; talking in geometries, visualizing, and letting the machines do the work. Trae prided himself in right-brain visualization, but was no match for Myra when it came to calculating. What the machines did exactly in minutes, Myra could do to a good approximation in her head in only seconds.

She’d been to his apartment once. They’d worked for a while, but drifted into talk about anything but work, and nothing got done. They were becoming quite close, and both knew it. The relation could grow at its own pace, but the work had to be done and was their focus, now.

A group of four toroids rotated suddenly on the screen, changing intersections with themselves, and a long cylinder pierced all of them. Myra was deep in supersymmetry, trying to model the very pores of the brane separating their universe from another. He watched, fascinated, and—

There was a sudden rapping on his door, slow but firm.

Trae opened the door quickly, having been warned about a visit. At first sight, the man standing there evoked caution. Tall, slender, his dark eyes were deep-set above a hawkish nose. Thin lips, and a sharp chin, he had a dangerous look. His mouth curved into an attempt at a smile, and failed.

“I’m John Haight, Mister Zylak. Meza said you were expecting me.”

“Yes, come in,” said Trae, and closed the door behind them. Haight smelled like oil and burnt insulation, the odor of his clothing. He was dressed like a workman, with heavy shirt, pants and boots, and he carried a metal box that looked like a toolkit.

“I don’t use Zylak. The last name is Denal. I’m Anton Denal.”

“Just so you know that I know who you are,” said Haight, and put down the toolbox.

“What’s that for?” asked Trae, and pointed at the box.

“I’m a repairman, a plumber. You’re having a problem with your sink.”

“Oh.”

“Actually I’m here to brief you on what I’ve found out about your recent demise. Welcome back, by the way. You’re looking well.”

Something about the man was vaguely familiar, but Trae couldn’t place it. He was sure he’d never seen this man before. “Thank you,” he said. “You’re part of the security division?”

“I work with it as a consultant.”

“Okay,” said Trae, and smiled. He sat down by the computer, and motioned for the man to sit in the chair beside him. “So, what have you found?”

“You’re an important person. The president of Gan, Azar Khalil, wanted you dead, and it was done. His accomplice is a trustee of our company, and I think the men are related, going back to the other side. Their families appear at exactly the same time in the archives, just after Leonid Zylak began his mission on Gan.”

“I looked in the archives, and didn’t see any of that,” lied Trae. “You must have other sources.”

“I do. Some on Gan, a few on Galena.”

“Priests?”

“Only two. Few people go back as far as your father, and The Church of The Faithful wasn’t even around then. It came a few years later, interestingly enough, not here, but on Gan, about the time I think a previous incarnation of Azar Khalil arrived.”

The familiarity was growing stronger and stronger. “I missed a lot in the archives, or the people you know have prodigious memories.”

“They do. Long ago the trustee involved in your murder had a brother on the other side. That brother was a Bishop of The Church, a prominent Bishop, but The Church was not so strong then. It preached love, and had no ambitions for power. A few disagreed with that.”

“These people remember all that?” Trae’s pulse rose. The piercing eyes, the cadence of speech, all so—

“
I
remember it. I was there on the other side, a novice in The Church. I remember Azar Khalil as the first Bishop of Kratola. I think The Church sent him after your father to gain a foothold in the colonies. And he’s managed to make a substantial fortune while doing it. We even removed the Emperor of Gan for him, restoring democracy, or so we thought. Now he’s taken power under the guise of democracy, but it’s for The Church.”

“Who’s we?”

“You, the Zylak family. You’re the enemy of The Church. It was seen that way on Kratola. It still is.”

“You don’t get any of this from the archives, or other people’s memories. As much as I think it possible, it’s conjecture without proof.” Trae’s pulse was racing, now, Haight’s eyes locked onto his.

“Your father remembers all of it. And do you really think you’re the only person who meets with him on a flower-covered hillside? Only Trae would believe that.”

“You’ve talked to my father?”

“Why not? We’ve been responsible for you since the day you were first born. Only the bodies change.”

Now John Haight really smiled, and the darkness in his eyes went away.

“Petyr?” said Trae, and his voice quavered.

“Hello again,” said John Haight.

CHAPTER 33

I
n the first youth of Leonid Zylak, ten thousand souls left Kratola and its crowds to search for opportunities in another universe. Others had gone before them, and had never been heard from again. Even with ships cruising at half-light speed and capable of light-year jumps, the distances were too vast for communication.

This time was different. The new colonists vowed they would keep in touch with their home world by settling the first habitable worlds they found. This was not so easy a task as they thought, for it was one hundred and eighty years before they found a system with a suitable world. Many lived out their final lives on board ship, having lost hope of ever setting foot on land again.

Elderon was the first settlement, followed shortly by Galena, then Gan. Two thousand migrants took one ship and continued on towards the galactic rim. A lifetime later word came by wave that they’d settled a single world twenty light years away, but after that there was nothing. Perhaps they’d found other people living there, as they had on Galena, and especially Gan, people from earlier migrations before the age of nanomachines and multiple lifetimes. They settled in well with each other, still one people.

Elderon, Galena and Gan were considered by Kratola to be the colony worlds, still in touch with home.

And things were not going well for Kratola, or the colonies.

The exception was Elderon, with its figurehead president and government by an elected senate. A planet of industry and technology, mostly owned by a few families who’d been influential even on Kratola. Some of the more ambitious, especially those who wished riches without competition, had moved on to Galena and Gan. And that’s where the problems began. Problems with dictators, and problems with The Church.

It was happening now on Gan, in particular, and getting worse by the day.

Azar Khalil succeeded in establishing The Council of Bishops by vote of The People’s Congress, but the vote was extremely close. Many people demonstrated against it in the streets the day after the vote was taken, and several key congressmen were visibly shaken by that. There were calls for impeachment, and conciliatory remarks by representatives pointing out elections were only a year away.

Azar Khalil had other ideas, and had been preparing for them since his election.

In every respect he now owned the military, at least every senior officer in it. The gratuities he paid privately for their consultations more than doubled their salaries, and their lifestyles were now dependent on it.

The Church was his. He
was
The Church of Kratola, as manifested in the colonies. The Bishops who served his presidency just didn’t know it yet. He would inform them soon. The colonies were but an extension of Kratola, The Church an arm of The Council of Bishops to rule them. Azar Khalil was Archbishop over them all.

There would be no elections. The Church would rule with Azar as its head, the Council of Bishops for guidance, and the military for enforcement. Selected members of congress would be kept on for a People’s Advisory Council and taken seriously, for the needs and problems of the governed must always appear to be known and attended to for political stability.

One year from now.

Another problem was more immediate. Relations with Galena, once a large market for Azar’s industrial empire, were deteriorating badly. He had only himself to blame for part of the problem; he’d moved too fast in trying to establish a proper church there, and now his priests had been rudely deported. He’d despised Emperor Sidique for being soft, but now despised him more for doing something decisive. For the moment, it was necessary for him to abandon his church ambitions for Galena, and focus on Gan. In a matter of years, still in this lifetime, the might of The Church would appear in the skies. Azar would make sure Galena fell quickly, and that Rasim Sidique would be the first to die.

*

Nicolus called late at night, and said the emergency was extreme. Rasim himself met the man at the west gate well before dawn, and they entered the service entrance to the palace. In a servants’ lounge adjacent to the kitchen, they sat down for tea and day old rolls.

For several minutes, Rasim Sidique, Emperor of all Galena, listened in horror as his Bishop gave him the news transmitted by wave from Elderon.

Treachery, deceit, assassination, a government overthrown at home and now an invasion force on the way to expand power. Petyr had told them everything, and so must regard him as a friend. The man’s faith was not misplaced, but what could Rasim do?

“My military is little more than a police force, and a small one at that. I couldn’t make a move against Gan if I wanted to, even to overthrow Khalil. The assassinations he plotted were on Elderon. They should handle it.”

“Their military is even smaller than yours,” said Nicolus, “but Petyr said they have a new technology that’s very powerful and can be used against a large force. He wouldn’t give me details when I pressed him; perhaps his trust in you isn’t total. Considering what has happened, I’m surprised he has any trust left in him.”

“I understand, but he can’t expect any military help from Galena. I cannot and will not attack Gan under any circumstances. Once was enough. I
can
and
will
do what I’ve done, and that’s to remove any influence or troublemaking by Gan, or Azar’s version of The Church, from our planet. But if an attack fleet comes, as he’s described, I’ll not be able to stand up to it, and I will not sacrifice lives for my reign. I’m a believer. Perhaps The Church will keep me on as a figurehead.”

Nicolus shook his head sadly. “I’m the Bishop of your church, sire, a church practicing tolerance and love. You’re beloved by our people as a person, but your rule has been so invisible they don’t realize how fair and just it has been. They’ll see it when it’s gone. You and I will be the first to die if there’s an invasion backed by Gan.”

“We could flee to Elderon in exile, and regroup there.”

“Possible, but Elderon might also be under attack. As I see it, they’re our only hope, with their new technology.”

“And we don’t even know what it is,” said Rassim.

He thought a moment then, “As long as our embassy is open on Gan, we can watch what’s happening and provide information for Elderon. We can also stop any shipments to Gan that might contribute to their military. Without being obvious, of course. We’ll claim there are shortages. We’ll subsidize the companies involved, to cover their losses, as I did earlier with munitions. The executives will understand the why when I explain the situation to them.”

“Their prime interest is money, sire.”

“If Azar Khalil and his supporters get control here, everything will belong to The Church. That should impress them.”

“Unless promises have secretly been made,” said Nicolus.

CHAPTER 34

I
’ve never seen you so happy. You really missed him,” said Myra. She and Trae were sitting knee-to-knee in her cubicle, eating sandwiches. Toroids danced and melded on the computer screen beside them, a simulation of brane pores opening and closing.