THE FALL OF THE CELESTIAL CITY
PTOLEMY
(Book #1 in the Fall of the Celestial City)
CHRISTOPHER KARIC
I.
THE CAIRN
Innumerable stars shone like shining diamonds in the darkness of space, casting bright lights upon the hundreds of sleek metal objects elegantly moving through the void. The Seventh Fleet had recently emerged from hyperspace, having just entered the Ptolemy planetary system, a system on the spiral arm of the Core Galaxy, a front line world for the Empire of Man, near the border with Mankind’s implacable and deadly foe, the Sanguinis. To most, Ptolemy was an unknown and irrelevant place, but to those with even a semblance of historical knowledge, which was very few in this day and age, Ptolemy possessed a glorious history, having been the site of epic battles, and having even for a brief time over a thousand years ago, acted as the seat of the Empire and House Severian during the Second Highborn Wars. But that was a long time ago. In fact, it was over one thousand years ago. Presently, Ptolemy was a forgotten, peaceful and irrelevant system, where its inhabitants lived oblivious and blissful lives.
Lord Marith Severian, the commander of the prestigious Seventh Fleet, the most well-known, respected and feared of the deep space combat armadas of the Empire of Man, reached for his Bacca, the ubiquitous energy drink of the Connected Worlds, and took a hearty sip. He replaced his cup on the arm rest next to his commander’s seat, realizing as he did so, that he was nervous. Marith was not a man prone to nervousness, having engaged in hundreds of deep space battles, not only as commander of vast battle fleets but also as captain of single ships, and early in his career, he had paid his dues as a strike soldier, having earned the title of soldier of the deadly and feared Legio Gemini.
Yes, Marith had seen it all, or so he thought, until the Emperor of Man had assigned him to this mission. It was a mission for which even he, the most famous and well-decorated of Mankind’s soldiery, a celebrity to the masses of the Connected Worlds, had no experience. It was a mission to the border between Mankind and its implacable enemy, the Sanguinis. It was a mission to meet, and parlay, with the greatest Prince of the Sanguinis species, a monster to Mankind, and supposedly an immortal creature, a being simply called Martens. Polemarch Martens was his title and Marith was truly nervous about coming face to face with the greatest of Mankind’s foes. There had been no contact between the Sanguinis and Mankind for over a hundred years, other than deep space skirmishes, since the days when Marith’s ageless great grandfather, Gabriel, had last engaged in parlay with the Polemarch Martens.
“Why now?” Marith had asked the Emperor Gabriel Severian, Marith’s great grandfather.
“It has been a long time since the Polemarch has communicated with the Empire. I suppose he misses us.”
Marith chuckled, but as he did so, he saw that Gabriel did not join him in sharing his mirth. Could the Emperor be deadly serious? “He misses us?” Marith repeated with disbelief.
Emperor Gabriel Severian continued. “These parlays have been called every one hundred years or so for the last thousand years. Little comes of them, but it would be deeply offensive, and potentially explosive, if we were to reject the offer to meet.” He paused. “I will not be attending the parlay. I will let you experience this one. However,” and here the Emperor paused, “the presence of two others is necessary.”
Marith raised an eyebrow. He was intrigued. The Emperor continued. “Your son, Manfred, shall accompany you. The parlay’s are rare occurrences, and I wish him to experience it. He may lead the next one so it would be good for him to experience this one.” Gabriel Severian smiled, a grandfatherly smile it was, before continuing. “The second individual is a man you do not know, but his presence is requested by the Polemarch. His attendance is vital.”
“Who is this man?” Marith asked, intrigued.
“I am not permitted to say,” said the Emperor in dead seriousness.
“Not permitted to say?” asked Marith in disbelief. “How is that possible? You are the Emperor of Man.”
Gabriel Severian smiled. “That you shall learn over the coming days. You are to meet this man at the Bellweather Inn on the outskirts of Ptolemy City. You will spend three days with him as he tells you the story of his life. Then, he will accompany you to the flagship of the Seventh Fleet and you will engage the Polemarch. This man will lead the parlay.”
Marith was flabbergasted. “You cannot be serious?”
“I am completely serious. This man will have complete authority in all dealings with the Sanguinis, and he speaks for me. He speaks for Mankind.”
Marith frowned. “This is inappropriate! Who is this man?”
Gabriel smiled at his great grandson, another in the long line of Severian Kings. “Lord Marith, you must trust me in these matters. After three days, you will understand the wisdom of my actions.”
He was more than two meters tall, powerfully built, but not thick or muscle bound, and though an old man by now, he still retained that look of vitality and strength which made one think of a charging bull. Michael lowered his head to avoid the door jamb of the restaurant entryway, stepping out into the chill yet fresh air of Cordillero. He had just finished a hearty breakfast and with a good meal in tow, his step was a bit quicker than usual, and his thinking more focused than normal; in short, he felt good and this was key because today brought a new adventure, something unexpected yet something familiar - he was traveling to the Cairn.
Outside, the wind picked up, swaying the mighty mountain pines, the high altitude air invigorating him. As he strode through the center of town, he approached a bronze relief of a larger than life young man holding a quarterstaff, the sculpture installed on a limestone base in front of a wall rising from the limestone base’s rear. The statue was a familiar landmark in Cordillero, having stood tall and proud in the very heart of the mountain village for generations, a monument to Cordillero’s glorious yet forgotten past, a past by now become myth and no longer celebrated. Most folk who passed the statute had only a casual understanding of its significance, aware only that it represented distant times and far-off events from a bygone era. Like the fleeting memories held by the village’s current inhabitants regarding Cordillero’s history, the statue itself was forgotten, no longer maintained, its existence just assumed and its permanence taken for granted. Expectations existed that somehow the sculpture would continue into perpetuity, without effort or enterprise by the villager’s inhabitants to maintain it, but like all things in the world of man, lack of care breeds decay, and so it was with the statue. By now, the sculpture had graduated from mere dirtiness to actual disrepair - there was a crack down the man’s chest, on the side where his heart would have been. Yellow rust stains revealed themselves under the man’s eyes, akin to tears. Though having withstood the elements of the high mountain climate for generations now, the sculpture was rusted yellow, the color of decline, presenting itself to those examining it as old and decrepit in appearance. At the base of the statute, Michael saw the familiar engraving, an engraving he spied every time he passed it; it simply read “The Native Son.”
Michael turned from the statue, a lingering sadness overwhelming him, a sadness that overcame him each time that he passed it. He focused on controlling this emotional reaction, for he had realized that sadness had become an all too permanent part of his being these days. As he struggled to contain these feelings, he remembered one of the favorite sayings of a man named Sam from his past: “how you think is how you are.” The words cheered him, his thinking becoming more positive, and the sadness dissipated, though it would not completely go away - it never would.
Michael considered the communication he had received some days before, a communication he knew would require him to leave his home. The hike to the Cairn was not long, it never had been, but Michael, fearing he might be followed, took a roundabout route, making sure no one tracked him, either on foot or from above. He was well aware of the myriad methods that a man could be followed and he took measures to ensure none were employed against him, though he did not believe they would. No one cared about him anymore. He was a memory to most, irrelevant and forgotten.
The Cairn remained as it always had been, a pile of rocks on a forgotten hillside, and Michael did not immediately approach it. Instead, he stopped some 20 meters from it, standing in place, unmoving, letting the seconds stretch into minutes as he endeavored to become part of the landscape. Michael peered around, listening for sounds that might be out of the ordinary, listening for clues that might hint at a trap, but there was nothing. He sighed. Again, feelings of irrelevancy overcame him and Michael chuckled to himself, as if longing for days gone past, of days of adventure, of intrigue, of heart-pulsing moments - no, that time was long gone.
He strode to the Cairn. It was small, a pile of rocks over an unseen hole. Michael walked to one side of the Cairn and removed a rock before reaching an arm into the opening. Inside, he found a letter and he grabbed it. Michael chuckled, realizing how few people still used paper, everything having become energy transmissions onto computer screens millennia ago, though paper had been the foundation of all communications and the first way Mankind had documented things. He opened the letter and saw the note, with the seal of the Emperor Gabriel Severian. It was authentic. A thin smile came to Michael’s lips as he read the short message.
“You are to meet Scribe Kyot in Ptolemy for a recounting of the events of your life. Upon completion, you will accompany Lord Marith Severian to the Parlay with Polemarch Martens.” Nothing more and nothing less. Not even Micheal’s name was mentioned but it did not need to be as there were only a few people in the Galaxy who knew of the Cairn and its location. Michael was not pleased but he was not so displeased that he thought to disobey a command coming from the Emperor of Man. He had expected such a directive for some time, and it had now finally arrived. In a way, he was thrilled to once more being called upon in Mankind’s service. More interesting to him, he was looking forward to the meeting with Martens. He always had.
And so he tucked the paper into his jacket, and as he did so, his arm brushed against his quarterstaff, Michael’s eternal companion, lodged loosely at his hip, yet hidden from the spying eyes of others, and he felt the Power emanate from it, a power that delivered to him memories of a bygone time, a power that brought to him memories of a world now forgotten and become legend, and a power that recalled to him visions of an eternal and age-old conflict.
Michael returned to Cordillero and packed his belongings. He would take his time in journeying to Ptolemy. He knew he could travel there shortly by using mechanized transport if he wished, but he did not wish it, for Michael had never been one to bow to any man, not even the Emperor. He was in no mood to rush to perform this task, a task he found taxing though he knew was important, a task that took from him the highland fresh air and gave to him the lowland pollution of a third rate metropolis. He packed a bag, only one, containing a fishing pole, clothes and some provisions. Michael went to the stables and asked for his horse. Whistle was her name, a beautiful mare whom Michael often used for his solitary journeys through the valley. The stable master, an old man himself, yet young in years compared to Michael, looked at him kindly. They had become acquaintances over time, but not friends - Michael had no friends, all of them long gone. As he loitered around the stable house, he inhaled the musty air of his surroundings. Instantly, it brought back memories of his mother. Like her, Michael had developed a love for horses and he had retained this love his entire life. Riding brought back recollections of his mother, of Jericho, of Emily, and of his youth mostly. These thoughts coursed through his mind as he packed Whistle up and departed, heading to the capital city of Planet Ptolemy, a backwater world in the Empire of Man, but the largest and most important metropolis this planet had, and he was riding a horse.
As Michael reached the last mountain pass before departing the valley, a pass called the Combre Pass, he stopped Whistle and took a long look behind him, engrossed by the beauty of Cordillero, his home. To him, the beauty of Cordillero, a veritable mountain paradise, was matchless  from the soft blossoms of the apricot trees to the dark snowcapped rock monuments of the Cuesta Mountains, mountains honeycombed with old mining shafts, passageways and underground mysteries that few truly understood. Cordillero was a small but strategically located settlement in the center of the Cuesta Mountain range. It was located many kilometers from the closest major city, Ptolemy, and Cordillero had served as a travelers stop for generations, as well as a military base in the not so distant past. The Cuesta Valley (for that is what it was called, with the village of Cordillero acting as its centerpiece) was an area abundant in natural resources … water, timber, and natural farming - not to be confused with vertical farming, a craze that had overtaken society many generations ago. As Michael stared at the valley below him, memories of his youth returned, memories that still haunted him to this day, memories of a time far away yet not forgotten, and a past that held joyful recollections but also tragedies beyond comprehension. He took a deep breath, his chest expanding, as he peered around him at the majestic mountains encircling him, a lush valley down below, with the Cuesta River babbling away down the valley’s center and rugged cliffs standing silently on both sides of the river. Adjacent to the river was a single roadway, paved but decaying and in need of repair, that settled itself gently into the landscape. This was the roadway Michael was traveling; a roadway that snaked up from a lush valley of tall pines, reflective ponds, huge groves of aspens and a scattering of homesteads, doing so via a sharp canyon that offered stunning views on both sides.
From the Combre Pass, the road would eventually take Michael around a bend and into another impressive valley. This valley was much larger than the Cuesta Valley, and it was known as the Combre Valley. If Michael had decided to descend into the Combre Valley, he would have entered a place much like the Cuesta Valley, though larger and centered around the deep and ancient freshwater Lake Combre. Alongside the mountain elevations, in both the Cuesta and Combre Valleys, but only if a sightseer looked closely, one could spy an extensive collection of old and decrepit structures, outcroppings from the steep mountain sides of both valleys. These structures, in some cases, were the remnants of old mining operations and in other cases, the remains of an old military base. Somewhere in the bowels of the great mountain range lay the labyrinthine catacombs of an old Command Center, possessing within its bowels the engineering marvel called the Infinite Ladder, which in its heyday had overseen the orbital defenses of Planet Ptolemy. Michael cringed at the thought of his last journey through those catacombs, a journey fraught with peril but imbued with an importance forgotten to most.
But his journey this day did not require him to descend into the Combre Valley, or to enter the labyrinthine catacombs below his feet. He intended to stay on the trail along the ridge, completely bypassing the Combre Valley, and slowly descending toward the great basin along the sea coast where lay the City of Ptolemy.
The trip to Ptolemy was uneventful, if not downright boring. It took Michael almost twenty days, though it should have taken only ten if not for his intentionally slow pace. He took his time to fish in the beautiful mountain lakes he passed, took his time to cook what he caught, and took his time to relax and stare into the deep green sky above, two stars staring down at him, a larger yellow star and a smaller red star - the result was a greenish color to the human eye. At sunset, on one particular evening of his journey, Michael recalled seeing the red star set while touching the larger yellow star, presenting a dynamic combination of colors; and, the truth be told, no two sunsets were ever the same on Ptolemy. Sometimes, the yellow star set first, or the red star set first, or they set touching each other as they did this particular night - it was always different and it provided for amazing viewing, especially from the high mountain peaks untainted by the lights of civilization. As Michael contemplated the unique nature of the Ptolemy star system, he looked to his shadow, realizing that there were two shadows, and this brought to memory an old joke told to him when he was a child  that on Ptolemy, if you were telling time by sundial, you would need the calculus.
As he descended from the mountains into the foothills around the great Ptolemy basin, Michael began to pass through smaller settlements and then larger villages. Finally, he reached what some of the more civilized might call an actual city. This city, he learned in conversations with locals, had recently had the Maglev lines extended to it. Michael quickly realized that the locals viewed him as a country bumpkin, a farmer from the mountains traveling by horseback, while they basked in the glow of having a high speed rail extension. He chuckled to himself and almost wanted to relate to them the primitiveness of the Maglev Trains of Ptolemy as compared to the VacTrains that had once operated on Kether, or the ancient technology of the trains of Relay One, engineering marvels of a bygone era. Nevertheless, he had no temptation to trade his horse for high speed rail and Michael continued on his way.
Soon, he could see the contours of Ptolemy and the skyscrapers came into view. Ptolemy was not a large city, but it was a modern city, cosmopolitan in most, if not all, respects. Its history, though not particularly interesting, helps one get a sense of the place. Ptolemy City, the capital of Planet Ptolemy, was originally a series of farm plots owned by a small number of farmers. Early in its existence, these farm owners gathered together to form a farmer’s coalition, named after the largest farm owned by the since faded Ptolemy Family. As time passed, more and more farms and land owners entered this so-called Ptolemy Farm coalition, and as these farms grew, the people that were employed required more homes and more services. Ultimately, commerce developed, and this led to the coalition growing into a significant settlement. As the largest city on this mostly water world (three-fourths of the planet was composed of water), the great basin abutting the ocean was an ideal location for the growth of a metropolis, which metropolis would eventually transform into the capital of the planetary government.
Eventually, people other than farmers began to purchase land in the area and the Ptolemy City charter created the official City of Ptolemy, which has continued to grow to the present day. Though initially a farming enclave, other industry has replaced it, with farming still playing a large role, but the farming of a different kind - vertical farming, which consists of skyscrapers with greenhouses and farms located therein. These became the breadbasket of the Ptolemy system, a strategically located star system near the outer edge of the Core Galaxy. Ptolemy, though not a frontline world, provided a pathway to the more prosperous and advanced systems of the Core Galaxy. In plain military parlance, Ptolemy was important because it was a convenient jump point for large military movements from the spiral arm of the Core Galaxy directly to the Galactic Core. With this in mind, the Empire of Mankind had always maintained a significant military presence in the Ptolemy System and the Sanguinis, Mankind’s age old adversary, had always coveted this front line world for its strategic importance.
These thoughts were not front and center in Michael’s mind as he slowed Whistle to a trot. He was now approaching the first structures of Ptolemy - smaller multi-story vertical farms, located in building after building, the bread basket of the planetary system, soon to be followed by larger and larger vertical farms, some skyscrapers even. These vertical farms provided food and sustenance for the entire Ptolemy planetary system, which consisted of more than just Planet Ptolemy, also including asteroid habitations and numerous moon colonies.
Michael gave only passing attention to the vertical farms as he passed them, even though he had lived a short span of years in one. He continued on horseback until he had passed the majority of them, realizing that from here on out, a man on horseback would look strange entering the bustling and modern roadways of Ptolemy. Michael found a vertical farm with a stable house, and he kenneled Whistle there. He was sad to part from his companion of weeks though he knew that it must be done.
He walked for some time, looking for the Bellweather Inn where he was to meet Scribe Kyot and his companions. It was still early morning and the air was crisp and cold, but one could sense the smell of pollution and the big city. Michael saw the Bellweather Inn ahead and increased his step, striding briskly inside and to the front desk, asking for Scribe Kyot. The man at the desk told Michael he would take the Scribe a message. Michael insisted that he call him now. The deskman frowned at the request, pursing his overly red lips, a raised eyebrow expressing his displeasure with Michael’s demand. The man paused for an excruciatingly long time before responding, as if trying to communicate who was in charge.
“I will deliver the message,” he finally said, with a voice that would have chilled a lesser man. Michael, however, remained undeterred and unfazed  he was too old for that. He simply nodded before once more addressing the man.
“Well then, tell him his interview is here and waiting in the lounge to get started.” Michael paused. “I also need a room. Two nights.” After sorting through the requirements of his accommodations, Michael departed for the lounge. He was familiar with the Bellweather Inn, having previously enjoyed its amenities. It had been awhile but the Inn had changed little. It was a baroque style, built with an architectural eye that did not in any way match the history of Ptolemy; instead, it was a carbon copy of architectural preferences used elsewhere. Michael entered the lounge, spied a table in the corner near a large window, and sat down. Within moments, he had been served Bacca, the ubiquitous energy drink of the Connected Worlds.
As he sipped his Bacca, he spied the Scribe entering the room. The man had a dour look to him, and he carried himself with self-importance. Michael supposed he deserved to do so as he was the personal scribe of the Emperor of Man Gabriel Severian. Walking next to the Scribe were two soldiers, Legio Gemini it appeared by their appearance. As Michael peered at the men, there was something unsettling about their looks, something familiar that unnerved Michael, though their appearance did not raise alarm bells of a dangerous kind. He examined the older of the two soldiers, a man close to Michael’s height, with bluish eyes, and Michael felt like he was staring into a deep blue lake. The other soldier, definitely younger, had the same height as his older companion, but his eyes were hazel. Michael instinctively wondered if they were father and son, but he kept these thoughts to himself as he raised his Bacca in the Scribe’s direction, indicating for the men to join him. Scribe Kyot frowned as he saw Michael. It was obvious that he was unhappy to be in Ptolemy and unhappy with the task assigned him. He strode toward the table, with a gait too long for the length of his legs, making him look awkward. The Scribe seated himself, his eyes still not having met Michael’s, before proceeding to clasp his hands together and place them on the table. The soldiers followed suit, their eyes never meeting Michael’s, their movements elegant and precise. They sat next to the Scribe, on either side, silent.
“Hello,” the Scribe began, “I am Kyot, the Emperor’s personal scribe.”
Michael said nothing, simply staring into the man’s eyes. He took a moment to examine Kyot, letting the silence stretch into uncomfortableness, instinctively knowing that it would both irritate and unsettle such a man as Kyot. He saw the Scribe’s ridiculous garb, an outfit more suitable to a carnival barker than a representative of the Connected Worlds’ most powerful man. He wore a loosely fitted reddish-yellow shirt, open at the collar down to the top of his chest, revealing a necklace of fine metal. His pants looked like blown-up balloons, oversized and puffy, and he wore shoes that were more akin to slippers. All in all, thought Michael, a ridiculous outfit, but he supposed it was the style of the day.
“Would you like a drink?” He finally asked the Scribe.
“No,” said Kyot as he removed paper and pen from a bag he had been carrying.
Michael laughed at the backwardness of the situation - pen and paper! “Might you be a Sofer?” Michael ventured.
The Scribe actually smiled. “And might you be a learned man?” He responded tartly but with some acknowledgment that he was not dealing with a country bumpkin. The Scribe paused but then spoke without waiting for a response from Michael, revealing to Michael that he was an impetuous and impatient man. “Of course I am a Sofer,” he added arrogantly, “Sofers have been the personal scribes of the Emperor since time immemorial.”
Michael frowned, knowing this to be untrue, but he did not feel like challenging the scribe. He simply nodded as Kyot continued to speak.
“And of course, the Emperor would accept nothing less than to have the greatest of scribe traditions, the Sofer, pen the history of our times.” He paused for a deep breath as his vision met Michael’s, before continuing, “and as you appear to know, from antiquity to the present, Sofer have always plied their trade by hand, using only pen and paper as in the ancient traditions  only later transcribing their notes into electronic format.” He spoke the last words proudly. “Shall we begin?”
Michael smiled before speaking, addressing himself to the older of the two soldiers. “Are you Marith?”
The man Michael had addressed as Marith was in fact Lord Marith Severian, and he was unused to being addressed in so casual and brusque a manner. Normally, he would have answered sharply and proudly, but there was something about the old man that demanded respect. Marith smiled, putting a gentle hand on his son’s shoulder to calm the volatile energies of his son, for he knew that his son had been offended by the man’s tone, before speaking. “Yes sir.” Marith said, before pausing for only a second, “it is a pleasure to meet you.”
Marith’s response cheered and warmed Michael, causing him to smile involuntarily. “It is a pleasure to meet you too.” Michael turned his fierce gaze upon the younger Severian. “and you are Marith’s son, the prince of House Severian?”
The boy, not more than eighteen years, frowned. Michael could see him tense up and knew that he was proud. Michael liked that. He saw strength in the boy, though the boy obviously lacked wisdom and tact. Before the boy could respond, Marith again pressed a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder to quiet him. The boy looked at his father, his lips twitching, but Marith only smiled. “Yes, this is my son, full of pride and energy, but his soul is sound, pure and good.” Marith paused. “And may I ask your name, sir?”
“You may,” said Michael, “but I will not give that to you just yet. You must first listen to my tale.” Michael chuckled. “Please indulge an old man’s preferences.”
The Prince of House Severian scoffed. “Father, we do not have time for this. There are much more pressing matters to be addressed!”
Marith smiled, his hand still on his son’s shoulder. “Sir, I look forward to hearing your story.”
“Let us commence with your tale then,” said the Scribe, a tinge of annoyance coloring his voice.
Michael nodded and then began speaking. “Let me begin by telling you that over the course of my long life, I have told many lies, have mastered the ability to lie and am in fact an accomplished liar.” Michael smiled as he looked directly at each of the three men before him, “but the events I recount now are nothing but the truth. It is the story of loves gained and lost, a story of a search for the Philosopher’s Stone, and a story of the Last of the Highborn Lords.”
The Scribe chuckled at the absurdity of what he had just heard, though he kept his head down as he continued writing furiously. Michael ignored him as he began the telling of his tale.
II.
FIRST MEMORIES
My first memories of life are of my mother, the village, and of the stranger, not necessarily in that order. My mother smelled of tangerines, and I remember sitting in her lap with her arms enveloping me, as she used her fingers to peel the shell from the fruit. She would feed them to me, slice by slice, always on cue as I finished the one before, and then she would continue with the peeling of another tangerine. This memory, of all the memories of my long life, stays with me to this day.
My place in this world seemed small. I do not recall a father. I was told he abandoned us at birth, leaving my mother to fend for herself. This turned out to be untrue in some respects but true in others. I was raised solely by my mother. Victoria was her name. I do not think she ever told anyone her real last name, though that I learned later, but to the villagers of Cordillero, she was known as Victoria Gerson. As such, my name was Michael Gerson.
As I grew older, I heard comments regarding the ‘easy virtue’ of my mother, obviously referencing my mother’s lack of a husband. This infuriated me and instilled a deep anger and shame. I was ashamed but I could never explain why for my mother had done nothing to deserve her plight, and neither had I. As I grew up, I found myself the target of insults and taunts, and it led to fisticuffs. But it was this shame, unwarranted though it was, that attached itself to me, a shame that burned deep inside of me and never went away, creating an un-extinguishable flame of anger at the world of men, an anger that would only increase as the events of my life unfolded. However, as I grew up, growing towards my present size, the public taunting stopped, for those that engaged in such baseless acts soon learned a harsh lesson, a lesson of brass tacks and knuckles. Nevertheless, and despite my ability to silence these slanderers publicly, I heard that the whispers continued in private, whispers that slandered my mother and I behind closed doors, and I realized that they would never go away completely.
I later learned who my father was, but until this knowledge came to me, my thoughts of my father were always something strange, a shadowy concept, not real, an association with a faceless yet imposing man whom my mother did not even carry pictures of. Yet somehow, and though he had abandoned my mother and I, we would be the ones shamed and not him.
My mother was a beautiful women. This is undisputed. She knew it and I believe she reveled in knowing that she was nice to look at. It was a vainglorious weakness, but one for which I keep no criticism of her. She had a regal look to her, with blond-auburnish hair, and she was tall for a women, approaching 2 meters. Her eyes, like mine, were the color of a clear blue lake, appropriate for a lifetime living in the mountain valleys. She had many suitors as I grew up. This became clear to me only as I approached my teenage years, and it made me deeply uncomfortable.
I grew up in the small village of Cordillero. In our supposed age of technology and modernism, Cordillero was an anachronism. Though the roads had been paved at some time in the distant past, all that remained as I grew up was dirt with areas of chipped concrete where roads had previously run. For the most part, travel was by horse though it was not unusual to see skimmers and other motorized vehicles coming through town. This was mainly due to the existence of a military base in the neighboring valley. Our community had grown around that military base. You see, somewhere within the bowels of the surrounding mountains was housed the planetary Command Center. However, this only becomes important later in this tale.
But back to Cordillero, where there were no skyscrapers, in fact no buildings of consequence, with the tallest structure only two stories high; that was the town’s public meeting hall that was used for all sorts of events  weddings, public meetings, and town gatherings. There was one inn that could hold up to 100 people if necessary, but it was never more than half-full for anything that I could recall. There was no need for travel and rarely did visitors pass through. Most of the residents did not even live in the town but in neighboring homesteads, or on farms. Farming was the main industry, apricots were the ubiquitous products, in fact the only products other than lumbar and ore, as the high mountain climate and soil was not suitable for anything else.
Now, you might think Cordillero was a backwater settlement, but nothing could be farther from the truth. Though it was an enclave of natural farming, it still possessed the most basic technology, a technology that allowed for its inhabitants to live prosperous lives, and a technology that to the Mankind of the distant past would be viewed as magic - there was a connection to the Great Known Network (or GKN as it is affectionately called to this day) which allowed users from even the most remote parts of the Galaxy to connect and experience the ongoing events of the worlds around them. Cordillero even possessed its own GKN cafes, the bane of civilizations past, present and future, where the supposed intelligentsia spent countless hours discussing politics and philosophy, while contributing little else to society; and where its purveyors could hook themselves up to the GKN via virtual reality nodes in order to surf the three dimensional byways and highways of the greatest network ever created. Even the poorest of citizens had access to the GKN, and there was no such things as starvation or the hungry - it was impossible. If there was anything parochial about Cordillero, it was the homogeneity of the population - there was simply little difference amongst the humans who lived there, ordinary, non-enhanced Mankind (though enhanced Mankind had been outlawed millennia ago in all of the Connected Worlds), and there were none of the other species of Mankind, such as the mysterious Laxians, a race of men that had developed into tall, thin, wisplike beings through deep space living.
My memories of youth, however, would be incomplete without a description of the stranger, a man I called Sam. For a decade, he would appear before my birthday, stay a couple of weeks, then depart. Sam was tall, two meters plus, and he was well built but not overly muscled. My first real recollection of Sam comes from my seventh birthday, as we all sat at the kitchen table in the small cottage my mother rented. There was only the three of us that day, and it is my first clear memory of him, though I was to later learn that he had been coming to visit mother and I since the day we first arrived in Cordillero.
Though Sam seemed innocuous and safe to me, I sensed by the reaction of other villagers that he was somewhat of a foreboding presence to them. When neighbors saw him, they instinctively shrinked from his presence. He always came to our cottage alone, though I would later learn he was not alone, coming to our little town with soldiers, always six including himself, but the soldiers never came with him to see my mother or I. However, the other villagers did not fail to notice the soldiers’ presence, for they were of the most formidable soldiery known to Man, for they were of the Order of the Legio Gemini.
But as my seventh birthday approached, and Sam sat in my mother’s small kitchen, these thoughts were not foremost in my mind, if in my mind at all. I saw Sam looking at me, his dark and brooding eyes focused on mine, but in them I did not see anything to fear, though those eyes had made many a man tremble in his boots.
“Today, we go into the mountains, our first camping trip. I suppose we shall do some fishing, maybe a bit of hunting, some hiking, and certainly some swimming.”
My mother looked worried as she spoke. “How long will you be gone?”
“A week maybe,” said Sam matter-of-factly.
“That seems like an awful long time for a seven year old?” My mother added.
“I’ll be fine, mom. It will be fun.” I smiled at Sam, the only man who had ever taken an interest in my life, albeit for only short periods of time.
Sam looked at my mother, and I saw a tenderness in that look, as between two adults who had come to know each other well. “It will be okay,” he said, “but you’re right to worry, Victoria,” he added, “for we will be going on an adventure,” and with that Sam jumped from the table and grabbed me in a bear hug, before spinning me around the room. “Go get packed, little one,” he said kindly.
Later that day, we embarked on our first camping trip. Sam had obtained a horse for himself and a pony for me. I had been learning how to ride since early in life, as my mother was an avid equestrian. We spent the first couple of days ascending out of the Cuesta Valley. By day three of my first camping trip, we had ascended the great mountain range and entered a neighboring valley, descending toward the Great Lake Combre, a fresh water lake some 2500 meters above sea level. The lake was not terribly large, though it was almost forty kilometers in circumference. Many centuries ago, it had been converted into a preserve and development had been banned. One could still see the remnants of old structures around the lake, and Sam told me there was an aeroport pad on the other side of the lake, though we could not see it with the naked eye. For the most part, however, the lake was uninhabited and had become nothing more than an outdoorsmans’ getaway.
We spent a couple of days in one camp near the shores of Lake Combre, and here is where Sam taught me how to fish. He also taught me how to read a compass, providing me my first inklings into the sciences that governed our Universe, and I learned of magnetism and how compasses worked. At night I was given speeches about space, the planets, the stars, the galaxy itself, and much more. This fired my imagination and I asked many questions, most of them too ridiculous to repeat. For a seven year old, it was a great deal of information, but I gulped it down like a Legio Gemini gulps down beer. Finally, as the first week ended, Sam gave me my first lesson in a more ancient art.
He pulled out two finely carved sticks from his bag, both about 2 meters in length, and he handed one of them to me. Sam smiled and then turned his back on me and walked to a nearby tree. Still carrying his backpack, he removed an odd piece of leather, or maybe some exotic material though I could not be sure, before attaching the material to the trunk of the tree. I peered at the material and saw a circle, marked up evenly with numbers, each of which was a point that I guessed described a target. I instinctively thought of a dart board. Sam then proceeded to stand in front of the target, and without saying a word, he began taking slow and smooth strokes, cutting the stick through the air, always between two numbers on the target. He did this for a long time, never speaking, and I moved closer so I could watch. Finally, Sam began to speak, but he uttered numbers only and not words.
“Cut one is one to four,” and as he spoke, he made a sweeping motion, elegant and smooth, from the points 1 to 4 on the target, “cut 2 is 2 to 3,” and he made the movement from point 2 to 3, and so forth for 3-2 (cut 3), 4-1 (cut 4), 5-6 (cut 5), 6-5 (cut 6), 7-0 (cut 7 the center of the target). I watched intently for some time, before he stopped. Without a word, he motioned for me to try.
I stepped up to the tree, and positioned myself as I had seen Sam standing, with one leg behind the other, at a forty-five degree angle, but as I did, Sam spoke, seemingly surprised.
“You are left handed?”
I nodded only briefly, before I started making the movements. Sam never said a word, letting me practice my cuts. I found I thoroughly enjoyed the movements and it brought me to a sweat. I lost myself in the simplicity of repeating the attacks, for that is what they were, over and over again, time seeming to stand still. I do not think I ever would have stopped if not for Sam’s kind voice breaking me out of my reverie.
“Enough,” he said. I stopped. “Do this every day for as long as you wish, but every day you must!” He paused, letting the import of his last command settle inside of me. “And you must practice with both hands  the right and the left. When I return next year, I will test you.” He smiled as he gently pushed me away from the tree. “Watch again, little one,” he said.
Sam began to make sideways movements with his stick, followed by top-down slashes, finally followed by angled maneuvers. At first, I did not understand what he was doing, before I realizing he was practicing blocks. Eventually, he began speaking, like he had before with the attacks, “stick parallel to cut 1,” and he would parry, “stick parallel to cut 2,” and so forth, through what I later learned were seven guards. Sam had me practice the guards, or parries as he called them, for some time before he stopped me. “Practice those every day, with both hands” he said flatly before continuing, “now, let’s go fishing.”
As we sat on the edge of an old decrepit and decaying dock, our fishing poles plunged into the clear blue water, Sam smiled and looked at me.
“Michael, there is harmony between every living being and the world around us  when I am outdoors and away from the bustle of society, from the comforts of technology, I feel it more acutely. When I sit here at the edge of this uninhabited and empty lake, on this faraway world,” and here he paused, “with you,” he stopped again and I almost thought he was going to get emotional and cry which would have shattered my image of him, before he continued, “I feel it deeply. Enjoy these moments for they are fleeting,” and he paused for only a moment, “everything is fleeting, life, society, culture, civilization … someday you will understand this, for we live in the most fleeting of times.” Sam stopped and smiled at me, but he said not another word of consequence that day.
The next morning, Sam began by practicing his attacks and cuts, always using the target, followed by having me do the same. We then practiced the parries, again with Sam going first. He never instructed me, and never said a word, other than repeating the cut and parry directions. We were done shortly and then we packed up, leaving the lakeside. We moved out of the Combre Valley, taking an old trail that had apparently been used for mechanized transports but was now nothing more than crumbled concrete, dirt and foliage. It took us a day and a half before we once more re-entered the Cuesta Valley. Sam, however, did not take me home. He took us off the beaten path, down a winding dirt roadway, making our way through a deep undergrowth of vegetation and tall and magnificent trees, to a place no more than thirty minutes from the center of the Village. Sam found a small clearing, on a rocky hillside, Ptolemy’s two suns beating down on us, and it was there we made camp, the sky a light green hue.
“Water the horses” he said as he strode away. I did, a bit uncomfortable to have been left alone. I was by myself for only a moment before Sam returned with some rocks in his arms. He smiled at me as he put the rocks to the side. “Let’s dig a hole.” We did. He then pulled a red bag from his pack, never revealing its contents, before putting the bag in the hole we had just dug. He beckoned me over and motioned for me to help him place the rocks on top of the hole.
“This is our place. Tell no one of it, not even your mother. In that hole, I have now left things for you. In the future, I will place more artifacts for you, as I deem appropriate. If there ever comes a time when I do not return and you feel you are in danger, come here and examine the contents of the Cairn. Until then, do not look inside.” He peered at me sternly. “Do you promise?”
“I promise,” I said.
That evening, before we lay down on our sleeping bags, Sam taught me what he termed a Kata, or a physical dance. “Everything in this Universe has ten words meaning the same thing,” he said sarcastically. “Whatever you wish to call it, whether a Kata or a dance, just remember the moves.” Sam taught me a pre-arranged, slow movement of the body, mimicking physical defenses and attacks, of what I would later learn formed the basis of the martial arts. He had me practice this particular Kata a couple of times then said it was time for sleep.
Before we left for home the next morning, we practiced stick attacks, stick defenses and the Kata. It did not take long. Sam told me to practice these every day until he returned. As we departed, I glanced at the Cairn, curious as to the contents of the red bag under the rocks, my curiosity the type that only a young child could possess. Soon, we were out of sight of the Cairn, and we descended the hillside into the Village, and as we did, I hoped I would be able to remember the Cairn’s location, knowing that I would only need to remember how to find the Cairn if Sam did not return. Fortunately for me, he did.
III.
FRIENDSHIPS
I always found time to practice the drills Sam had taught me. A child’s curiosity and energy as well as insatiable lust for knowledge engrossed me. I was motivated, more motivated than any other child I knew. Whether this came from the deep shame I felt about my lack of parentage, or from the deep anger that boiled inside of me like a smoldering volcano, I cannot say. I do know that I was ashamed I did not have a father and that my mother did not have a husband. It bothered me deeply, though it did not seem to bother my mother. Nevertheless, as I grew into self-awareness, I knew that I was different from other children, different in ways that made me sharper, faster, smarter, and frankly, better then everyone I met. This was obvious to me by the time I was eight, and it was certainly obvious to everyone else too.
The fact I was better than others at virtually everything I did was hard for me to hide. I knew I was superior and I let this arrogance affect my behavior. This did not endear me to my cohorts. Like other children, I went to school, I played sports, and I participated in activities. For the most part, I was liked, but I was never accepted. I was liked by the sports managers and the families who valued athletics for what I could help them with, but I was not truly accepted by the established families until much later. I soon learned that my mother was a pariah of sorts, and that I was accepted only as a tool to victory in games of competition.
I heard rumors of my mother, that she was a whore of a prince hiding his bastard son, the whore of a lord from another world, or the daughter of some off-world established family who had bedded a common man and been disinherited for her transgressions. It was amazing to me, as I look back, that all the rumors of my mother focused on her sexual infidelity - there was never any other speculation that took root. Sexual gossip was a tidy morsel and in a community as small as ours, the gossip ran rampant.
I often asked my mother about her past but, as if ordered from an unseen and unknown power to remain silent, she refused to answer or equivocated. There were times where it seemed she was about to speak the truth and where the flood gates, so to speak, were about to open, but whenever such a moment seemed imminent, she recoiled, as if the burden of the secrets she bore overwhelmed her into silence. Though I was obviously very close with my mother, I knew virtually nothing about her past, other than the one picture (other than the hundreds of me) she kept on our mantle; it was a picture of Elyce, her sister. Elyce looked like my mother, with regal and well-defined features, but beyond that I knew nothing. I asked mother about Elyce, prodding her for information about Elyce’s whereabouts and her doings. My mother burst into tears at the question and hurriedly departed from the room, leaving me stunned and confused. Eventually, she returned, wiping tears from her eyes.
“She has passed to a better place,” said my mother and she said nothing more ever again.
Another thing I heard were the rumors of the yearly visits by Sam and his soldiers, and some speculated that I was the son of a soldier of high rank, an out-of-wedlock bastard born son, but the son of royalty nevertheless. This speculation, which my mother never deigned to acknowledge, either by denial or affirmative comment, continued for my whole youth. I learned to ignore it, though it was even brought up tactfully by those who became my friends.
One of my first friends was a boy named Charley. He was an overweight and un-athletic child who possessed a brilliant mind, the type of mind capable of the highest in abstract thinking. His parents were kind, the father an apricot farmer and the mother a teacher. His parents would became one of my mother’s closest friends and we were invited over for meals often. I think my mother took to them because they were non-judgmental and they were kind to her from the start. They supported my mother in her endeavors, never prying into her past, except for one time that I recall, when they sensitively asked her about the man Sam who visited on a yearly basis. My mother smiled and simply replied that Sam was not her husband but an acquaintance who checked in on her. That was the end of it.
Charley, their son and my first true friend, was not popular in school and never would be, getting nicknamed ‘Frames’ for the glasses he wore. Wearing glasses was a sign of low birth and impoverishment for it implied a lack of money to undergo a simple eye surgery. Even as I outpaced him and grew into manhood, with my height and size, Frames simply grew outwards, his nickname transitioning to “Fatty” and “Sharlie”. This necessitated that I become Charley’s protector. When others tried to bully him, I was there and my presence alone kept him safe, for the most part at least, for though he did not suffer physical threats, he suffered through the inevitable verbal abuse one who is not like others endures. Charley was an extremely bright person, a verifiable genius. He saw and grasped things quickly, and he soon learned, despite my prowess in physical endeavors, that I did too and I believe that was the ultimate crux of our friendship. I do not think Charley had a mean bone in his body and he never begrudged my blessings.
Charley preferred to stay indoors and surf the GKN, the Great Known Network, for news of the Universe. He was fascinated by the Universe, by the reports of great battles in far away worlds, by the supposed political intrigues from Kether, by the rumors of the supposed declaration of a Highborn Lord on Cabrasas, and much more. Charley, Frames, Sharlie, Fatty  whatever one wanted to call him - was fascinated by the deepest mysteries of our Universe and nothing intrigued him more than my friend Sam.
“Well, who do you think he is?” He would often ask me. There was only one other person I would tolerate such incessant badgering from, that being Emily of course (and more on her later), but even so, Charley’s questions wore me down.
“I really don’t know. I’ve never asked,” I would always reply.
“Why not?” He would press. “Aren’t you curious?”
Of course I was curious, but there was something about Sam that led me to avoid conversations about his identity, about raising that question with him at all. If he had wanted me to know, he would have told me. All I knew was that he was good to me and that he was good to my mother.
“And he always comes with five Legio, and not ordinary Legio, but of the Order of the Legio Gemini. He must be the Unit leader,” he added mysteriously.
“Why do you say that?” I asked, falling for the bait, my question assuming I even knew what a Legio Gemini was.
Charley frowned, as if all learned people knew about the Legio Gemini. “Because all Legio Gemini units are six soldiers?” But Charley would then stop, as if on cue, expecting me to say something more but I never would.
On and on he would go, not just about Sam, but about the wars with the Sanguinis and speculations about my birth and parentage, and I would allow it for the most part for he was the oldest of my friends, and frankly, I felt sorry for him in many respects. He was unattractive and uncharismatic, though he was brilliant. The only time I truly felt bothered was when he talked about the endless war with the alien Sanguinis. He took a more dark perspective on the war, going against the common perception that things were going well. “We are losing this war,” he would insist, “they just don’t want to tell us.” And he would also add before I would have to cut him off, “and the Sanguinis will exterminate every last human if they can!”
Other than Charley, my only other true friend was Emily, Emily Ceres, the oldest of three daughters of the most influential family in the valley. The Ceres Family was, as I learned, an old family with political connections to Ptolemy itself. Sentius Ceres, Emily’s father, was a successful merchant and was often away, but he adored his daughters. At first, he did not take too kindly to me, though as I grew into manhood and exhibited physical talents that made the locals proud, he relented and came to accept me, especially since his daughter would become one of my closest childhood friends. In fact, I think he actually grew to like me, treating me as the son he never had but had always wanted.
My relationship with Emily was friendly … no, I cannot lie, it was more than friendly, especially as we grew older. I certainly developed a crush on her, and I believe she developed one on me. The problem was her mother, a tenacious gossip and professional busybody. She meddled constantly into my family’s affairs and had an obsession with learning more of my mother’s identity. In any event, the three of us  Charley, Emily and myself  became fast friends at an early age.
My first real recollection of Emily was her defending Charley from bullies. We were eleven. It was lunch time, and it was a clear sunny day, the type of classic Ptolemy day with two blazing suns, one a red dwarf and the other a yellow orb, both drowning our world with green light and warmth. I was walking back from the cafeteria on my way to class. I heard some shouting, a girl’s voice for sure, and as I turned the corner, I saw Emily standing defiantly over Charley, with three larger boys close by. Emily was pointing a finger in the direction of one of the boys, wagging it toward him, a boy named Finnegan. Finnegan was a bully - everyone knew it. I stopped in my tracks, mesmerized by the scene unfolding in front of me.
“Don’t take one more step Finnegan!” Shouted Emily.
Finnegan laughed. “Come on,” he started as he took one step closer toward Emily and Charley, “why are you defending this fat piece of garbage.”
“I’m not just defending him,” she began, “I’m defending all of us who are weaker than you and your brutes.” As Finnegan moved closer, she swung a wild arm in his direction, all the while holding her ground. Finnegan, undeterred, continued to move closer, now probably less than two meters from her, his two accomplices fanning out on her flank in an encircling movement. “Stop!” She said, still holding her position over the prone and cowering Charley. I actually felt embarrassed for him. How could he just lay there, letting a petite and frail little girl defend him. But I also knew that I had to act or this could escalate. I stepped forward and spoke.
“Hey, Finnegan, what’s going on?”
Finnegan and his cohorts turned their heads. My eyes met his and I saw challenge in them, knowing right there that we would have it out some day. I hoped it would not be this day. Finnegan smiled, but it was a nervous smile, as if he was realizing that he had a real foe now and that the balance of power had been dramatically altered. I repeated myself as I moved closer, knowing that Finnegan’s companions had no appetite for conflict against me. I knew this somehow, instinct maybe, probably the look in their eyes, or their body posture, something about the way they didn’t fully turn their bodies toward me as I entered the scene. Finnegan, on the other hand, turned fully toward me and he had wild eyes, the eyes of someone who lives for conflict, who lives for a good fight, that was clear to me. I spoke again. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” said Finnegan after a long pause, one long enough to almost make me fidget in my spot. I did not, of course, focusing on my breathing, thinking of the times I had trained the Kata with Sam, as well as the breathing exercises he had taught me, and I remained still and poised, not truly expecting a fight but not discounting its possibility. Finally, Finnegan spoke, and his words gave him away, for they were too quick, and I knew that I had won this encounter. “We were just having some fun.” He added.
He looked at Emily and smiled as he turned away. “Let’s go guys,” Finnegan said firmly, but his voice was tinged with just a touch of frustration that was probably only obvious to me. As he departed, he glanced at Charley, still lying prone on the ground, and he waved. As he waved, he gave me one last look. It was a foreboding stare, seething with anger.
I didn’t dare come over until he was far gone, and only then was it that I approached Emily and Charley. By then, Emily was helping poor Charley up from the ground, and he was dusting himself off. He adjusted his glasses and was in the process of tucking his shirt into his pants as he rose. “Wow, that was close,” he said to no one in particular. I did not answer but smiled, my gaze focused on Emily. I was mesmerized by her. I stared at her pretty white little face, blue eyes like sparkling jewels, with a color of blush on her cheeks. She caught me staring at her and she smiled, a mischievous little smile it was, a smile that drew me into her world, made me feel like I was her friend, or her confidant. Though I did not know it at the time, I had fallen in love with her, and though it was a childhood crush, it was the type of love one does not ever forget for your entire life.
“Hello Michael,” she said as if we were good friends. I was flattered that she knew my name and I caught myself blushing, involuntarily looking away, pretending to glance at leaves scuttling across the courtyard by a sudden gust of wind.
“Hello,” I finally croaked, realizing that I needed to speak.
“Thanks for showing up. I figured Finnegan just needed someone to stand up to him,” she said innocently. Though I understood why she thought that, I knew she was terribly wrong. Finnegan would never quit until he was beaten himself. I merely nodded, not wishing to ruin the moment.
“Cat caught your tongue,” she said playfully, speaking in a tone of voice so endearing that the words did not matter.
I smiled weakly, realizing that I was making a horrible fool of myself. I simply could not speak and though I wanted to speak, I had nothing to say. I was hypnotized by her charisma and infatuated by her mannerisms.
She tilted her head sideways, looking up at me, as if examining me for the first time, and she smiled again, “well, since you are so full of bright and new ideas,” she said, “how about I come up with one,” she laughed, “how about we play hooky and take a raft down river to the mouth of the lake and jump in for a swim.”
I smiled but I noticed that Charley was frowning. “Well, we can’t just miss school, my mother would kill me.”
“Well, Charley,” began Emily, “you would be in the infirmary and missing school anyways if not for us. Finnegan would have killed you.”
My pride swelled by Emily’s inclusion of me. I felt my chest burst out as I took a deep breath, and I felt a kinship to her, a kinship in the knowledge that we had acted together to save Charley from the savage beating he would have endured.
“Well, still …”, he began weakly before being cut off by Emily.
“Well, nothing, let’s go or next time we won’t be there to protect you from Finnegan and his gang.”
That settled it for Charley, because he knew he needed our protection and it was worth a detention to retain it, not that Emily would have ever withheld it anyways.
We left the school campus, three eleven year olds, playing hooky, traveling from the school grounds toward the river, the midday heat now blistering. I had no idea where we were going or how we would raft down the river, but it did not matter. I was following Emily and I didn’t care where she took me. When we reached the banks of the river, a place of Emily’s choosing, she motioned for us to leave our backpacks by a tree. Charley, obviously distraught by now, looked helpless and did not move.
“Leave your bag here, we’ll come back,” she said, with not a hint of frustration in her voice. As she did, she proceeded to remove her shoes, revealing dainty and pretty little feet, and then walked down to the shore where, lo and behold, she found a small rubber raft, with oars. I chuckled.
“We always leave this here and my dad brings it back,” she said matter of factly, responding to our unsaid inquiries as to how she knew of the raft’s existence. Charley looked like he had seen a ghost. He must have never imagined that we would actually go through with missing school and going rafting, but now, with the raft in plain sight, he had to know that it was a reality.
Soon, the three of us embarked on our journey down the river, paddles in hand. I felt ridiculous rafting down the river, especially at first when we were moving about the speed of a tortoise.
“This is so silly,” Charley added. “I could backstroke faster than this raft is moving.”
“I doubt that,” said Emily playfully.
As we crawled downriver, I took that opportunity to look at the structures and settlements alongside the river. I saw the Sanchez’s residence, with their own dock and boat launch. I had previously passed by their cottage on the roadway but seeing it from the waterside gave me a new appreciation as to the expanse of their property. We passed Smokey’s Restaurant, a favorite of Charley’s parents, and we passed other residences too. I leaned back, craning my neck skyward, but I was quickly admonished by Emily. “Hey, watch it,” she said, “keep rowing!”
I proceeded to keep rowing, wondering how I had ended up in the middle of the raft, with Charley in front. I had initially protested that it was I that should be guiding the raft down the river, but Emily had responded with a laugh, as if that was a response, but somehow it had sufficed and I had acceded to her instructions, realizing that I simply enjoyed being in her company. It did unsettle me a bit to think she was behind me, staring at the back of my neck the entire time.
Slowly, the river’s current picked up, and our journey became a bit more treacherous. “Hold on,” said Emily, “we’re going to hit some rapids here soon.”
“Rapids?” Exclaimed Charley fearfully.
“Yes, rapids. Hold tight.”
As if on cue, the raft accelerated, and at one point we hit a rock, and the raft turned around completely, with Charley now facing upriver and Emily with her back facing downriver, her oar in the water, desperately trying to guide the raft. Charley snorted, like a pig, and I laughed, the realization striking me that Charley had a habit of snorting. I was still laughing when our raft overturned.
As we flipped into the water, I heard Emily cry but it was not a cry of panic but a cry of joy, pure joy, and I immersed myself in it, reveling in the moment. As I came to the surface, Emily was still laughing and talking at the same time.
“Michael, do you know if Charley can swim?”
Well, I had no idea as I reached for the overturned raft that Emily was already gripping. But where was Charley, and then his head popped up, like a jack-in-the-box, and he snorted again, then coughed, as he reached for the raft. I grabbed his arm and pulled him to me. Once all three of us were holding onto the overturned boat, I asked Emily a question.
“So, how do we flip this thing back over?”
“We don’t.” She responded.
Charley wailed, “oh God, so now what?”
“Hold on,” began Emily impishly, “once we pass the upcoming rapids, we enter the mouth of the lake and we can then swim to shore.”
“You’ve done this before,” I exclaimed.
“Of course,” she said, “and we did pretty good. I always flip,” she added deviously.
“And now you tell us,” complained Charley.
“Hold on!” Emily yelled over the sound of the oncoming rapids. “Here we go.”
And so we did. Afterwards, soaked and tired, we lay on the shore, the warm suns drying us. I had removed my shirt as had Charley. We lay there forever, just drying, on the pebbly shore of the mountain lake.
“Now what?” I finally asked.
Charley peered at Emily, waiting for her answer.
Emily, her previously drenched clothes now dried, glanced at me and then Charley before responding. “I suppose we should walk home.”
I laughed and Charley snorted as we began the trek home. This made us all laugh.
Eventually, we made it back to the shoreline where our journey had commenced, our clothes dry but crumpled and dirty from the river run. It was then that I had my first encounter with Sentius Ceres, Emily’s father. He saw Emily as we walked up the road, waiting by his skimmer. I noticed that when he spied Emily, his visage brightened, and she ran to him, leaving us behind, as if we did not exist, and she ran into his arms. He grabbed her in a bear hug, and whirled her around. For a moment, I wondered what it would be like to have a father greet me like that and I was envious. I drooped my shoulders, feeling sorry for myself. The moment passed, as Mr. Ceres spied us standing twenty meters down the road. His smile vanished when he saw us. He stared at Charley first and then at me, glaring at me for what seemed like an eternity though it was only a moment, before he beckoned us over with a wave of his hand.
“Charley, Michael,” he said firmly. I was shocked he knew our names, but he did. “Get in the skimmer, I’ll take you home.”
As he drove us home, I was silent and so too was Charley, but Emily chatted away, telling of our adventures on the river, of flipping over, of Charley’s snorting. At mention of his snorting, Charley snorted again, actually eliciting a brief chuckle from Mr. Ceres. She then just kept talking, unable to stop apparently, and told of the encounter with Finnegan and my involvement. Ceres was silent, not even nodding his head, but when Emily was done, he glanced at her and smiled. “Finnegan,” was all he said, “I’ve heard of that boy.” And he said nothing more on that topic.
Mr. Ceres dropped Charley off first and then me. Our eyes met for a brief second and Mr. Ceres smiled before speaking, “say hello to your mother,” was all he uttered as he turned his head, the skimmer leaving. I saw Emily crane her head so she could watch me as they departed, and I was certain I saw a smile. That made me happy. And so ended my first encounter with the charming Emily.
IV.
ADOLESCENCE
As I approached my twelfth birthday and Sam’s anticipated arrival, a number of important events converged. My mother, as I mentioned before, was a beautiful woman, but she was also a profoundly lonely woman. It was during this time frame that she fell for Will. Will was a business acquaintance of Sentius Ceres, Emily’s father. Will was a stern man, a controlling man, who possessed a chip on his shoulder. Unfortunately for me, he took it upon himself to become my father and enforce discipline and order as he saw fit. At first, he was careful with me, trying to be my friend, but as his emotional grip over my mother increased, so too did his attempt at control over me. I once overheard him use the analogy of taming a horse to disciplining a child.
“First, you have to break them before they follow you, and most of all,” I remember the chilling words he used with my mother, “you have to beat them if necessary.”
How my mother fell for this man, I will never know, but I do not think I ever experienced the type of loneliness that she did, so it is difficult for me to understand her thinking in this regard. I had come to understand power structures from an early age and I knew he had power over me. His very presence chilled me so I obeyed him, but I never obeyed him with anything other than a slavish regard for the exact words uttered. If his instructions were not explicit, there was no leeway on my end for the spirit of his meaning. There was no relationship or connection between us, other than master and slave, and I knew that my time would someday come. He even tried to take credit for my education and athletic prowess, but at every turn when I could give him credit, I made no mention of the man, treating him as if he did not exist. When he asked to go outside and play catch or do something together, I always denied him, making an excuse of too much homework or a study group with Emily. Since Emily was the daughter of Will’s largest patron, there was little he could do. Our relationship was not good, but it was not awful either, and though I thought I handled it well, it obviously took a toll on me, as evidenced by what happened next.
Much like that fateful day when I first came to acquaint myself with Emily when she was defending Charley from Finnegan and his brutes, I came upon a similar scene in the school courtyard. If you have ever had a moment in your life when anger just flows through you and you cannot control it, and the only thoughts running through your head are hateful, conspiratorial and nasty thoughts, that is what was going through my mind at that very second. As I look back, I was at a stage in my life where I possessed a deep sense of loneliness, anguish, and uselessness. My mind focused incessantly on the mysterious nature of the universe, of time, and more importantly, of my place in it. I had become fixated with the concept of Mankind in decline, with the idea that our society and culture were decaying - these were ideas placed in my mushy head by my friend Charley who relentlessly spoke of the approaching fall of civilization, and who tirelessly whispered in my ear as to the imminent fall of Man. I do not know why I bring this up to you now, but these thoughts, or themes if you will, have remained with me my entire life, affecting my worldview to this very day.
Regardless, and already filled with pre-teenage broodings about my family situation, about my place in the world, and about the fall of civilization as I saw it, as well as my hatred of Will, I came upon Finnegan holding Charley in a headlock. Finnegan’s gang was lounging nearby and encouraging him with hoots and hollers.
“Stop!” I yelled. The tone of my voice must have shocked them all, for the encouragement and mocking of Charley stopped, but it was Finnegan ironically who did not let Charley go. He held Charley tight in the headlock and looked at me. I knew our moment was now. I strode toward him purposefully, anger blinding me, a blood rage that I would rarely again feel in my life. I was not so much enraged at Finnegan, though I was certainly not happy with him, as I was enraged at the world and Finnegan was going to be the outlet for my rage. As I look back on that moment, my first real physical confrontation, I realize that if Finnegan had been less stubborn, he could have survived the encounter. Unfortunately, Finnegan was one of those people in life who live for confrontation and it was not in his nature to back down.
As I walked toward him, the crowd around him grew silent and stepped back. Realizing the seriousness of the situation, he unceremoniously dumped Charley on the concrete to his side, my friend landing on his arm and rolling away, a silent cry of pain evident on his face. For some reason, this inflamed me even more as I drew within a couple of meters of Finnegan. My antagonist did not hesitate to lunge at me, but it was a simple matter to sidestep the attack and grab his arm. Once I had his arm in my grip, he was finished. I turned his arm sideways, forcing his entire body to turn with it, and I heard him grunt in pain. Though strong, he was no match for me. Once his body was sideways, I planted my full weight with my free elbow on his shoulder. Finnegan grunted in pain again, this time more loudly, as he fell hard to his knees. Still holding his arm sideways, I repeatedly slammed my weight into his shoulder, until he screamed, before turning his arm completely backwards against the small of his back. This forced his face to the concrete with a thud. With only one hand to bolster the fall, his chin went down to the hardscape hard, his body going limp. I later learned that I broke his nose and arm with that one move. Unfortunately, I did not stop there, proceeding to pummel the back of his head until I felt hands grab me and pull me from him.
I am not sure what happened next, other than I was disciplined by the school, and Will and my mother came to pick me up. Will scolded me, repeatedly yelling at me and telling me how much of an embarrassment I was to the community. My mother, on the other hand, was silent, but then I saw her weeping into her hands. This made me cry and I could not control myself. That evening, I lay awake in my room deep into the night. Apparently, the town lawman came to our house to investigate and it was rumored that I was to be arrested and charged for the vicious assault. I believe this all blew over when Sentius Ceres came to my defense and said that I was defending a defenseless boy and though definitely an overreaction, Finnegan was to blame for instigating the incident. It is sufficient to say that Sentius Ceres’ words saved me from a much harsher punishment.
Though not punished by the authorities, Will punished me. He gave me the first beating I have ever had in my life, and frankly, it would be the last where I did not fight back. As my mother sat downstairs, he beat me with a leather strap in my room, forever soiling the room in my mind, and as he did so, I thought I saw satisfaction on his face, as if he was exorcising his hatred for me in those moments of physical exertion. I do not believe he ever would have stopped, if I had not finally grabbed the leather strap and looked at him. “Enough,” was all I said. He stared at me for a long moment then jerked the leather strap from my hands and went downstairs, never again attempting to strike me.
That night, I practiced my stick attacks, my stick defenses, and my Katas, doing so for hours, the sweat beading on my brows and body. In fact, over the next couple of weeks, as I was banned from attending school, that is all I did. A grim determination to be perfect grew within me and I practiced to no end. It was also during this time, I believe, that my mother’s relationship with Will began to sour. Though they would not separate for years, I could see that she did not slavishly listen and accede to every one of his demands. I saw a stubborness in her responses, not outright rebellion, but more of an irritating questioning of him on all matters. This was just the beginning. It was also the beginning of my mother’s long, unexplained illness. At first, she just seemed tired, always exhausted and lacking energy. Over time, it became a lethargy where she would lay in bed for hours on end during daytime. In my later years, I became convinced this was mental and caused by depression and loneliness. She was not meant to be stuck on Ptolemy.
After the Finnegan incident, I was not permitted to go to school for a couple of weeks. Eventually, I returned to school, and though I was initially concerned that I would be viewed differently, everything seemed to revert to normal almost immediately. As my twelfth birthday approached, I put memories of Finnegan, Will’s beating and the entire episode to rest, and I began to look forward to the imminent and expected arrival of Sam.
And so, with a couple of weeks until my twelfth birthday, Sam had still not arrived. Nevertheless, I was not worried, because sometimes he came after my birthday and sometimes he came before, but I knew he always came. More interestingly, the Ceres family approached Will and my mother about hosting a birthday party for me. I did not hear about this until only a couple of weeks before the party, but apparently they had been talking about it for months. I only came to hear about it when I was at the Ceres household and I overheard my mother speaking with Sandra Ceres, Emily’s mother. Emily and I were in the other room doing our homework and we could overhear the conversation in the kitchen next door. We snuck to the door, quietly giggling to each other as we tried to spy a glimpse of our mothers through the doorway.
“So, please let us host a party for Michael. He has become so dear to our Emily, and Sentius has become very fond of the boy - it’s almost like the son he never had.” There was a long pause, “and despite that unfortunate incident with that troublemaker Finnegan, everyone thinks so highly of your son. It’s the least I could do.”
My mother, her regal features evident on her face, smiled and politely answered. “That is so kind, but I cannot agree to that. Maybe you and your family can come to a simple dinner at our house.”
“But we insist,” began Sandra Ceres, “your son deserves a birthday befitting his station.” The lady paused, perhaps realizing that she had given too much of her suspicions away, and she quickly corrected herself, “I did not mean to offend.”
My mother smiled, a weary smile, everything was now weary for her, “there is no offense in your offer.”
“So, it is settled?”
“I think it would be fine,” said my mother, but now she paused and I could see her blush. Before she spoke her next words, I knew what she was going to say, “but it is difficult for me to afford something so lavish … if we could…”
“Hush,” began Sandra Ceres, “Will has already said he would help, and even then, this is a gift from us to you,” and now she paused and I wondered what was going to come next, “and please feel free to invite anyone you like, especially that friend of yours who comes to see Michael every year.”
There was a long silence. My mother pursed her lips. “Well,” she began, “it’s doubtful he would come.”
“Why not?” asked Sandra Ceres, obviously pressing for information.
“He’s not one for social events,” my mother responded evasively.
Emily’s mother pursed her lips before boldly coming out with what she really wanted to ask. “Who is he?”
I almost gasped. I glanced at Emily, who had her hand over her mouth, but I saw the wry smile on her face that always so cheered me. My mother, however, showed no emotion.
“He is Michael’s uncle,” she said flatly.
“Your brother?”
“No, Michael’s father’s brother,” she said monotonously, and then my mother smiled and looked at Sandra and with a regal tone, made the last comment I would ever hear from her on the topic of Sam or my father. “No more questions please?” She said it so soothingly, yet so forcefully that even the socialite that was Sandra Ceres knew there were no more to be gained by pressing the matter further.
The day before my twelfth birthday, Sam arrived, arriving with his coterie of soldiers, or Legio Gemini as Charley called them. I studied them this time, all hard men, all warriors it seemed, men who I imagined had witnessed the best and worst the Galaxy had to offer, each possessing impassive looks that betrayed nothing of what they truly thought. Sam immediately came to our apartment and to his surprise, he found Will. I was sitting at the kitchen table doing my homework and rushed to Sam, hugging him at his chest, that is how tall I had become. As I hugged Sam, I heard him speak.
“And who are you?”
“I am Michael’s father.”
“You are not Michael’s father.”
“I am with Victoria now.”
By now, I had stepped back from Sam so I could observe the two men interact. I felt an immediate and immense tension in the room. Sam had yet to step into the cottage and still stood at the doorway. Finally, he spoke. “Where is Ms. Victoria?”
Ms. Victoria? I had never heard anyone refer to my mother that way. It was very regal and honorable, as if only Sam knew the importance of my mother’s station.
“She will be here soon.”
“May I join you until she returns?”
Will continued to stare at Sam and I could tell he was conflicted. He obviously had been ruing the day when Sam returned for he knew just such a moment as this would occur. But at the same time, there was something about Sam that instilled fear in others. Will, obviously, did not want to displease the man overtly. I knew I had pegged Will right all along, a coward. Will finally made the only decision that made sense for him.
“Yes, of course. Come join me for a drink?”
Sam smiled, a thin smile it was, but a smile nevertheless as he stepped into the apartment and proceeded to seat himself next to me. As he did so, I saw him glance at the mantle, where my mother had placed a myriad of pictures of me, but with one picture of my mother’s sister Elyce. For a moment, I thought I saw emotion cross Sam’s face as he peered at the picture … was it pain? I wondered why I had never observed this in Sam before, though the answer was obvious - I was getting older and becoming more perceptive of the happenings around me. I instinctively wondered what Sam knew of Elyce and what relation, if any, they had with each other, my mind working in conspiratorial overdrive. The moment quickly passed, though I would not forget it. Sam, however, smiled and looked at me, speaking the words I would always remember.
“If you are faced with a choice between duty and a woman you love,” he began, “always pick the woman.” Then, he laughed.
“Brandy?” asked Will.
“Perfect,” said Sam, the smile still plastered to his face.
The two men sat at the same table as me, as I pretended to do my homework. They said nothing as they sipped their brandy. It was excruciatingly uncomfortable and the air oozed with tension. I watched Sam closely in these moments, even though I pretended not to. While I watched him, my suspicions about the photo were confirmed as Sam repeatedly cast quick and furtive glances at the picture of Elyce on the mantle. Who was she to him? A relation? A wife? A sister? Finally, my mother walked in and I could feel the tension dissipate a bit.
“Sam,” said Victoria. There was a cheer to her voice. Sam smiled and stood, taking a long step toward Victoria Gershon, embracing her. It was not a long embrace and not the embrace of lovers but of old and trusted friends.
“You look well,” Sam lied.
“You don’t look a day older since last I saw you,” said my mother, returning the favor. They both burst out laughing. As they did, I glanced at Will, who sat stone faced at the kitchen table.
Finally, Sam spoke. “Is Michael packed? We head off to the mountains for our annual trip.”
Will coughed and cleared his throat. “Michael has a birthday party tomorrow. His twelfth birthday.”
Sam ignored Will and looked at Victoria. “Really?”
My mother looked down at her feet but Will jumped in. “Michael has become quite popular with some of the families and they are holding a birthday party at the Ceres Estate tomorrow evening. Will you join us?”
Sam frowned. “No,” he said. “But when the party is over, we’ll head out then. I suppose the boy deserves a party,” and now he paused, “and a normal life.” The comment to this day has haunted me … a normal life.’
It was Victoria’s turn to speak. “Will is going with you this time.” Her voice was flat, but devoid of strength, as if she had used all her power to make the request.
Sam chuckled, the laugh so matter of fact and mocking, yet forceful at the same time that I almost laughed myself.
“No,” he said softly. The tone of his voice was dismissive and the tone gave me great joy, for I hated Will and enjoyed to see him treated so. Sam did not even bother to glance at Will as he spoke, disdain evident by his look. As if suddenly catching himself, he added “my lady.”
I glanced at Will, whose face was burning bright red, and I could see he wanted to speak but there was something about Sam that deterred even the most aggressive of men.
My mother, however, must have obtained a burst of energy for she replied. “Who are you to dictate to me who goes where with my son!”
“I may not be his father but I am his protector. He comes with me … alone.”
As if on cue, Sam smiled and looked at me. “Have your gear packed. I will come back in two days to get you.” And with that, he left.
Mrs. Ceres apparently sought out Sam during the next day, trying in vain to find him, seeking him out through his men at the local inn, at the local watering holes, but to no avail. She told the soldiers that she wanted Sam at his nephew’s birthday party but the soldiers either stayed silent or pleaded ignorance as to his whereabouts. He was a professional at evasion and despite her best efforts, she could not find him. Sam had disappeared.
V.
YE THAT SHALL BE LIKE GODS
My birthday party was a smashing success, with all of my friends and their families attending. It was the best party anyone had ever had for me, and it made me believe I was truly part of the community. I have to say that I felt, probably for the first time in my life, like I had a home, like I had a place in this world and that I was part of the Cordillero family. However, it initially bothered me that Sam did not come but I gave that little thought when I considered I would be spending the next week with him.
I do remember being cornered by Sentius Ceres, Emily’s father. He had obviously taken a liking to me, and from the conversation between his wife and my mother I had previously overheard, he apparently viewed me as the son he’d never had. I had always thought of him as a hard case  a stone cold, serious, and firm man, a man who elevated discipline above all else. In this assessment, I was wrong and this should have been obvious to me by the way he treated his daughters, with deep love and affection, and with a warmth so rarely seen by parents. I sometimes wished I’d had a father like him. These thoughts coursed through my mind as Sentius cornered me, a drink in hand.
“So, Michael, how does it feel to be twelve?”
I smiled back at him. “I guess it feels the same as being eleven.”
Mr. Ceres chuckled, then paused, before speaking. “What do you want to do with your life?”
I felt like rolling my eyes at the question, but he looked at me intently, and knowing how he’d treated me in the past, I felt he deserved an honest answer and not some cliché ridden response. “I want to be a soldier of the Legio, a Legio Gemini,” I said flatly.
His expression changed to one of disapproval, though I could immediately tell this was a postured and practiced look, one he had probably used on others. I breathed, using the breathing exercises I had mastered over the last couple of years with Sam, and I remained still and utterly silent.
“And where does one get such ideas?” He finally ventured, probably realizing that I was not going to volunteer any more information.
“Sam, my mother’s friend, is a soldier of the Legio,” I said.
“That is what I hear. Does Sam have a last name?”
A long silence ensued. “I don’t know,” I answered honestly. Sentius continued to stare at me, as if prodding me to speak by his silence, but I knew better than to say anything more.
Evidently impressed, he finally smiled. “Very poised,” he said, “very poised for someone who almost killed another boy with his bare hands.” He smiled again. “What happened that day?”
My hands started to shake as I recalled the incident, recalling the rage I had felt, the rage at Will, at my mother, at the world. I remembered also the feelings of desolation and depression that had overcome me during that time in my life, for I had by then imbibed - hook, line and sinker  Charley’s view of history, a view that posited that Mankind was a failing species and that civilization was decaying - you would not believe how such a worldview affects one’s mood! And as I faced Sentius Ceres, with these thoughts swirling through my adolescent head, I suddenly felt I could tell him anything, and I felt that I could trust him in all matters. I just started speaking, letting it all out, telling him about my shame for not having a father, the things other boys had said, and on and on I went. I must have talked for twenty minutes, with Sentius Ceres merely nodding the entire time. He put his hand on my shoulder and smiled, apparently wanting to ease my discomfort.
“Go enjoy your party and have fun on your hike,” he said as he walked away.
The party was fun, and I spent an inordinate amount of time with Emily, probably too much time. Poor Charley mostly remained in a corner by himself, and I did him no favors, not going over there to spend many moments with him. It was a shameless performance on my part and the worst I would ever treat him - I am not sure why I acted that way, though I think I blamed him for the Finnegan incident, blaming him for his inability to defend himself, an inability that had forced my intervention and resulted in my problems. Charley’s mere existence, as a weaker sort of man, required that he be defended. The burden of defending Charley, though distasteful to me, was required of me, at least in my worldview. I viewed the world in black and white terms; there was good and there was evil, and I rarely acknowledged anything in between. What Finnegan, as the stronger man, was doing to Charley was wrong. Finnegan needed to be stopped. Nevertheless, even though I viewed the world this way, and even though this worldview required that I defend those (like Charley) who could not defend themselves, the mere fact of the existence of beings such as Charley, beings that required my efforts to protect them, somehow irritated me. Regardless, and whether Charley deserved it or not, I was cool to him that day, avoiding him as much as I could.
The night passed and early morning of the next day, the day after my party, Sam came to our cottage. My mother met him and smiled at Sam, sharing an embrace before we departed. I could tell she was still irked that Sam would not let Will go, but she knew better than to argue with Sam. As usual, we departed by horseback and headed into the mountains, taking a different route that on previous journeys. I wondered how Sam, a stranger to this land, could know the terrain so well. We went fishing, we hiked, and we talked. Sam told me about the stars, he discussed science and he gave me the histories. One night, while we sat around a campfire, he spoke of the history of creation, the history of the Highborn Lords, and he spoke of the alien Sanguinis, mankind’s mortal enemies. These were all myths I had heard already from Charley.
As recounted by Sam, the Highborn Lords were the children of the Gods themselves, the pure blood descendants of the Angels of Providence who had come to save Mankind in their most desperate of times, called the Highborn Lords by Mankind and the Grigori by the Sanguinis. The myth, as related by Sam, told under the stars at night, next to a blazing campfire, was a fascinating myth of Mankind, only the outline of which I will recount here, for I am sure most are already familiar with it.
Sam began. “Eleven Arks came through the singularity at the beginning of time, carrying an adventurous humanity in the most audacious acts ever undertaken by the species. The manufactured singularity had created the Universe in the greatest feat of engineering Mankind had ever devised, an engineering feat spanning a thousand years. The concept had been created by the great engineer Iamblichus, who later simply became known as the Core Engineer. Why did Mankind undertake this experiment, you might wonder?”
Sam paused as he glanced over at me. I stayed quiet, knowing this to be a rhetorical question only. “Well, because they could,” and he laughed. “Ye that shall be like Gods,” he mumbled. Then he spoke again, staccato like, “the mind can make a heaven out of hell or a hell out of heaven.” These two references have stayed with me forever. But Sam did not hesitate very long, as he continued.
“The Core Engineers devised the so-called ‘Plan Of A Thousand Years’ in which Mankind would create a new Universe by the construction of an engineered singularity, which would act as a pathway to this newly created Universe. The newly created Universe, in theory, was engineered to expand at a radically accelerated rate so as to develop livable conditions for Mankind in the shortest time possible. As the story goes, it was after one thousand years that Mankind would enter the singularity and arrive at their new homes. The short time span  for one thousand years was extremely short when talking about celestial events  allowed for the ‘Created Universe’ to expand to such a point where second generation stars had developed and habitable solar systems had been created.”
The idea was to travel through the singularity at an appointed time and colonize this new Universe. The massive structures or spaceships that came through the singularity were called Arks. Eleven of these Arks came through the singularity. These structures were so large that they were essentially floating planets, or world ships, with their own ecosystems and developed polities. They each housed billions of souls. To this day, two of the Arks remain as artifacts to the extreme engineering of the Core Engineers, Relay One and Relay Two, located on opposite ends of our galaxy.”
By the time the Arks came through the singularity, one thousand years later, Mankind had reverted backwards technologically, though they were still formidable. And for those who came through the singularity, they soon realized that something was different. They soon realized that some men possessed a strange ability to manipulate, by mere thought alone, the time and space around them to a fleeting degree. This ‘Power’ or this ‘Ability’, as it was called, gave some men a tremendous advantage over others. Those with this Power were called ‘Naturals’ and were able, among other things, to slow time by a millisecond, just enough to create an advantage during physical combat, as well as move small physical objects. The existence of this Power in some men and not others created a hierarchy of sorts, between those who possessed the Power and those who did not.”
As the Arks floated through this new Universe, the natural tendencies of men to oppress each other and to struggle for control over each other came to the fore. Groups in society banded together to form clans, usually banding around individuals with exceptional strength in this new Power. This was done not out of any love for such men and women, but out of a need for self-preservation, accomplished in order to counteract the abuses of those who were using their newfound abilities to enslave and oppress. These clans ultimately came to compete with each other, creating a system for ordering society around the strength of individuals in the Power, inevitably leading to a society of Lords and Princes to rule over Mankind. These clans ultimately rejected the power of the democratic majorities that had existed before them, instead declaring themselves sovereign from the pre-existing governments, resulting in widespread chaos as societies broke down.”
As society lurched from democratic majorities to tyrannical clan rule, there was much conflict and bloodshed, but over time, the independence of the clan fiefdoms was established. Those living under these fiefdoms received protection while those that did not were ultimately conquered and enslaved. Ultimately, the power of the fiefdoms eclipsed the power of the organized polities and replaced them, thus ending the time of republican/democratic government.”
This meant the establishment of a system of parcellized power in the hands of a new warrior class, which replaced the republican/democratic polities as the ruling class. Ever since the abandonment of republican government, these Houses (as they were eventually called), relied upon their own military recruits selected from among local chieftains for their protection. These local chieftains formed lord and vassal relationships with their managers or rulers.”
This genetic hierarchy, with its establishment of the clans (or houses), led to an Age of Warlords. Certainly, this was a chaotic time as social society as it had been known (democratic and republican) collapsed, ultimately leading to an interstellar form of feudalism. It was an age of low bureaucratic control and of high motivations in prolonging war for the maintenance of economic gains by the warlords. Eventually, a time of consolidation arose, and in the Connected Worlds, which is the Core Galaxy where we reside, a system of reciprocal legal and military obligations among the warrior nobility (i.e., the Naturals) was established.”
This system came to revolve around the three key concepts of Lords, Vassals and Fiefs. A Lord was in broad terms a Natural (or a child of a Natural) who held land; a Vassal was a person who was granted possession of some land by the Lord (typically another Natural who had for whatever reason agreed to serve under a Lord); and the land that was ruled over was called a Fief. A Fief could be so large as to encompass multiple star systems but it could be so small as to entail a parcel of land on a planet. In exchange for the use of the Fief and the protection of the Lord, the Vassal would provide some sort of service to the Lord, including payment of taxes, military services, barter of goods, or even governorship. The obligations and corresponding rights between Lord and Vassal concerning the Fief formed the basis of this interstellar feudal relationship.”
Over time, numerous houses (or clans of Naturals) developed these relationships over territory they claimed rights to. Minor houses or minor clans developed with the major houses, their allegiances shifting between the great houses periodically. This feudal system strongly affected political development. The democratic/republican system was delegitimized and was no longer even viewed as a viable system of government  it would take millennia for it to be re-established in the form of the Celestial Civilization. As parliamentarians were shown to be weak and ineffective, the very idea of representative democracy was set back. As constitutions were torn up and thrown in the dustbin of history, the ideal of constitutional government was discredited. Political enemies were invariably denigrated as subversive. The leading warlords called each other traitors, while the revolutionaries called the warlords thieves. Every member of the political elites was tarnished. On the one hand, warlordism was hated. On the other hand, what we might call military values had a life of its own.”
The Age of the Warlords ended abruptly with the First Sanguinis invasion. Out of nowhere, alien hordes descended upon human world after human world, annihilating civilization after civilization. The Sanguinis were allegedly a native born species of the created Universe, a Frankensteinian creation of Mankind that should have been foreseen but was not. They viewed the great dregs of humanity with disdain, viewing the common man as an inferior being to be enslaved. Human civilizations began to collapse as the warlords struggled to band together to fend off the Sanguinis invasion. It was just as human civilization collapsed that the Children of Iamblichus, the Highborn Lords, or the Grigori, whatever one wished to call them, appeared.”
Three hundred men and women came through the core singularity during the most dire moments for humanity. Each of these individuals was exceptionally strong in the Power, stronger than any Sanguinis and certainly stronger than any living Natural. However, there were nine especially, these nine ultimately becoming the founders of the Nine Great Houses that we see today. Each of the Nine brought with them an artifact of great power, made outside of the time and space of the created Universe, a weapon called the Quarterstaff. These artifacts were made from the materials of another Universe and endowed their users with immense abilities to warp space and time. The Quarterstaffs’ power had no equal, having been forged from another plane of existence and possessing both the power to destroy and to create. With these weapons, the Children of Iamblichus re-organized and re-energized a dispirited humanity, successfully stemming the Sanguinis hordes, pushing them from the Core Galaxy. Many theories abound as to who these Angels of Providence might have been. Were they genetically engineered humans from Mankind’s birth Universe, engineered to possess an ability in the Power? Or were they Angels of Providence, created beings sent by a loving Creator, come to save Mankind in its time of need? Who knows.”
It was after the First Sanguinis wars that these so-called Children of Iamblichus came to be known as the Highborn Lords to Mankind and the Grigori to the Sanguinis, our eternal enemies’ most fierce foes. With the halting of the Sanguinis advance, civilization was re-established and enlarged. This was the golden age; the birth of the Celestial Civilization if you will. At its peak, Ketherian civilization, and that is what it was called, spanned almost three galaxies, with outposts far and beyond, but the most civilized portions of Mankind resided in what is known as the Core Galaxy, the galaxy where at its center the Great Singularity resides, the singularity created by Mankind itself.
This civilization established by the Highborn Lords, as it had been before, was established as a feudal system, but a feudal system based on republican principles where each sovereign polity came to the table with a say in matters of governance. The feudal houses previously operating under the control of the Naturals, however, took a backseat to the nine Great Houses established by the nine most powerful of the Children of Iamblichus. It was hoped that now since the Sanguinis had been defeated, peace would reign, and peace did reign for a thousand years, but peace was not to reign forever. The Highborn Lords, apparently possessing many of the same vices, desires, insecurities and motivations as the rest of Mankind, promptly engaged amongst themselves in a war for control of humanity itself. This period has become known as the War of the Great Houses, or the Highborn Wars. It portended the beginning of the decline of the Celestial Civilization, a decline we still experience to this day.”
Sam paused. “I think it is important for you to understand a bit of history regarding the Great Houses and their founders before I continue.” He took a swig from a bottle of brandy he had pulled out. As he did so, I could tell he was enjoying the telling of this history. I had heard much of it before, but to hear it from Sam in so concise and clear a fashion was exhilarating. He continued.
“The nine most powerful of these pure born Highborn Lords became known as the Nine Shoen, and they became the patron saints, so to speak, of the Nine Great Houses.”
The first house is House Cabrasas, also known as the “First House”. This is the house descended from Lord Samil ‘The First’. Lord Samil, or Sammael in some iterations, was the most powerful of the Highborn Lords, possessing the greatest abilities, the keenest mind, yet a menacing disposition. He is depicted as a vainglorious being, narcissistic and prone to cruelty. House Cabrasas was originally called House Ariel, but after Lord Samil’s defeat at the hands of Lord Keter and Lord Sandalphon, Samil’s followers re-established House Ariel as House Cabrasas. It was established by Samil’s grandson, Nebuchad Cabrasas, a half-blood grandson of Lord Samil with blood ties to the ancient Warlord House Cabrasas. Lord Nebuchad Cabrasas kept the name House Cabrasas but it has been an article of faith that House Cabrasas would reclaim its rightful Highborn title as House Ariel when an expected Highborn heir was declared, an heir who could once more wield Lord Samil’s Quarterstaff.”
It is a long tale, but Lord Keter, of House Severian, had taken Lord Samil’s quarterstaff upon his defeat. As a token of peace and reconciliation, the quarterstaff was returned to House Cabrasas many generations later. It currently remains under the custody and control of House Cabrasas.”
The second great house is House Sandalphon, also known as the “Hidden House”. House Sandalphon is descended from Lord Sandalphon, and was known simply as Sandalphon “The Tall”. Lord Sandalphon is brother to Lord Metatron. He is a patron saint to the Laxian breed of humans, themselves the tallest of mutated mankind - the Laxian race are known for their keen and scientific minds, and are deemed the great scientists of Mankind. Sandalphon is said to have risen to almost two and one-half meters in height and never to have been defeated in combat, not even by the great dueler Lord Samil. In present times, there have been many pretenders to the seat of House Sandalphon but no true claimants. After the Battle of Sandoval where Lord Samil was defeated by the Lords Sandalphon and Keter, Lord Sandalphon, grief stricken at the carnage that the Shoen had inflicted upon Mankind is said to have retreated to the corners of the farthest space, to dwell until the end of time, forever disappearing from the Connected Worlds. Lord Sandalphon is theorized to have used his fallen brother Metatron’s quarterstaff to create the ringworld paradise, the engineering marvel known as Oceanus Ultimatus, the mythological world lost to the knowledge of man.”
The third great house is House Hadrian, which is descended from Lord Seraphiel. It is now a minor house, having been utterly defeated and destroyed by Lord Samil during the Highborn Wars. Lord Seraphiel, with Lord Metatron, was beheaded by Lord Samil during the wedding of Lord Seraphiel’s daughter to Lord Metatron’s son in what has become known as the Outremmer Massacre, or Red Wedding. The Outremmer Massacre served as the genesis of the Highborn Wars. Lord Seraphiel’s quarterstaff was melted into molten metal by Lord Samil and used to create one thousand of the Universe’s most famous and deadly weapons, known as the Heavenly Daggers.”
The fourth great house is House Nathanael, also known as the “Bastard House”. House Nathanael is descended from Lord Nathanael who was killed during the first Sanguinis Wars but half-blood and mixed blood progeny subsequently established House Nathanael. It is a minor house that has relatively little influence in the affairs of the Connected Worlds, though many administrative houses seek to marry into House Nathanael for the namesake and prestige attached to it. Nathanael’s quarterstaff is rumored to have been cast into the center of the core Singularity by his son in honor of his great father. Currently, House Nathanael serves as a vassel to House Severian, holding governorships in many star systems.”
The fifth great house is House Metatron, descended from Lord Metatron, the twin brother to Lord Sandalphon. It is now become a relatively minor house, having been utterly defeated and destroyed by Lord Samil during the Highborn Wars. Lord Metatron, with Lord Seraphiel, was beheaded by Lord Samil during the wedding of Lord Seraphiel’s daughter to Lord Metatron’s son, in what has become known as the Outremmer Massacre, or Red Wedding. The Outremmer Massacre served as the genesis for the Highborn Wars. Like House Nathanial, House Metatron currently serves as a vassel to House Severian, holding governorships in certain star systems. Lord Metatron’s quarterstaff was kept by Lord Samil as a symbol of his victory over the great warrior, but upon Samil’s fall to Lord Sandalphon and Lord Keter, Lord Sandalphon re-took the relic and is said to have used the artifact to create the mythical ringworld paradise and engineering marvel known as Oceanus Ultimatus.”
The sixth great house is House Phanuel. Lord Uriel, the patron of House Phanuel, is said to have perished during the First Sanguinis Wars but his progeny established House Phanuel. House Phanuel is the name of a former Warlord’s House to which the survivors of Uriel wedded themselves. Lord Uriel, never much of a warrior, had always been a devotee of the arts. His quarterstaff was cast back into the core Singularity by his survivors, to the great regret of historians and archeologists alike. House Phanuel is an independent house that serves the Connected Worlds as teachers of science, of art, of philosophy and mathematics. Lord Uriel is the patron saint of all creative souls in the Connected Worlds. They do not play a role in the great game.”
The seventh great house is House Severian. It was established by Lord Keter, who was also more commonly known as Lord Keter ‘The Seventh’. The name Severian is a derivation of the word ‘seventh’. Lord Keter established his fiefdom on the planet Kether, which to this day is the center of the Connected Worlds  the center of civilization but more commonly known as the Celestial City. House Severian, as it became known after the conclusion of the Highborn Wars, has held its ancestral seat on the planet Kether since time immemorial.”
The family ranks as one of the oldest and most honored in the Universe of Man, built its own empire and established its own guard, the Legio Gemini, meaning Knights of the Temple of the Watchman in an ancient language lost to those of us living today. Lord Keter is said to have struck off the right hand of Lord Samil during the penultimate duel with Lord Samil. The histories are a bit muddled here with some reporting that Lord Sandalphon then beheaded Samil, though others report that Samil escaped this fate, escaping to plot and scheme from far away. In any event, Lord Keter’s quarterstaff is supposed to have been lost, but rumors persist that it is under the care and custody of House Severian, awaiting use by the next Highborn Lord of House Severian, if ever there were to be one.”
The eighth great house is House Gabriel. Lord Gabriel perished during the First Sanguinis Wars but his progeny established House Gabriel in his name. It is a minor house that serves as vassel to House Severian, holding governorships in numerous star systems. Gabriel’s quarterstaff was thrown into the core Singularity, again to the great regret of future generations, historians and archeologists, in honor of Lord Gabriel at his death.”
The ninth great house is House Jehoel. Lord Jehoel perished during the First Sanguinis Wars but his progeny established House Jehoel in his name. It has established itself as one of the great administrative houses of the Connected Worlds. House Jehoel’s adherents are trained as administrators and/or controllers for various organizations throughout the Connected Worlds. Currently, many of House Jehoel’s progeny serve on Kether on behalf of the Ketherian government. Lord Jehoel’s quarterstaff was thrown into the core Singularity in honor of Lord Jehoel at his death. House Jehoel is oftentimes viewed in alliance with House Cabrasas.”
Sam stopped and took a breath. He was now laying prone, his back on the ground so he faced the stars above, next to the fire. His arms were crossed over his chest and he seemed more relaxed than I had ever seen him before.
“So, what happens next?” I finally ventured, eager for the story to continue.
Sam smiled. “Patience, child. We have all night.” He took another swig from his brandy flask and continued.
“Backing up a little, after the Sanguinis were vanquished, the Shoen established their fiefdoms, or houses, and there was peace for many years. Civilization bloomed and Mankind’s influence spread throughout three galaxies. The Great Houses established the celestial civilization on Kether, a star system near the Great Singularity, and it was at this point that the Celestial Civilization began its reign over history. However, Lord Samil always retained ambitions of greater power. He undertook a debilitating interstellar war with the murders at Outremmer of his own kin, throwing Mankind into chaos. The genesis of the so-called Highborn War was the Outremmer Massacre, or Red Wedding as the histories more commonly call it, where the Lords Seraphiel and Metatron were taken prisoner at the wedding of Lord Seraphiel’s daughter to Lord Metatron’s son. At the wedding ceremony itself, Samil beheads them both and murders all Highborn not of his house.”
Eventually, however, Samil is defeated,” Sam paused as if wondering what to say next, “and some histories proclaim that Samil himself is beheaded by Lord Sandalphon as an uneasy peace is established. I do not believe that to be the case; I suggest that he chose the oath of immortality and has chosen to rule in hell rather than to serve in heaven.” Sam stopped and then paused for a long moment, his last words confusing to me, but before I could deign to ask a question, Sam continued. “Lord Sandalphon, so disgusted and distraught by what had occurred, uproots himself and departs the Connected Worlds, disappearing forever. What follows is a period known as The Restoration, which was a time of consolidation after the War of the Nine Houses as the Celestial Civilization is re-established. However, as the War of the Nine Houses came to a close, the Sanguinis, obviously sensing weakness in humanity, undertook another massive invasion of human space - this became known as the Second Sanguinis Wars.”
With the reality of a Second Sanguinis invasion, civilization consolidated itself behind the remaining houses, which to this day have maintained an uneasy peace. House Cabrasas, though defeated and arguably the least trustworthy of the Great Houses, still retained great strength and great alliances. It took its place alongside House Severian as the main power in the affairs of Man. Due to the existential threat from the Sanguinis, it was agreed by the remnants of humanity and the Highborn that some form of centralized power was necessary to keep the peace. An Emperor was chosen from one of the two remaining great houses, Severian and Cabrasas, on a rotating basis. This diffusion of power was meant as a check on each of these two great rivals and as a deterrent to prevent another all-out war within humanity.”
For 3,000 years, the Restoration has mostly kept the peace, and slowed the Sanguinis advance. Unfortunately, Mankind has been on the run, with only the Core Galaxy remaining under direct human control, and even parts of it falling behind the red curtain of Sanguinis space. We are technically still in the age of the Second Sanguinis Wars as the conflict rages to this day. But beneath the surface, there is still the great rivalry between House Severian and House Cabrasas, the two power centers of Mankind, with an outbreak of hostilities here and there still occurring.”
The emperors chosen were mostly children, appointed by the representatives of the Great Houses, and they were usually forced to abdicate (or retire) whenever any semblance of independence arose. Otherwise, these emperors were expected to live colorful, eccentric and responsibility-free lifestyles.” Sam laughed out loud but I heard a bitterness to his laugh. “And so, young Michael, I have brought you to the present,” he concluded, a wry smile plastered to his face.
“But now my boy, it is time for you to sleep.” Sam raised himself and began to kick dirt onto the fire to quell it. I saw smoke rising into the sky, but my eyelids were heavy, and before I knew it, I was sleeping deeply, thinking of the fascinating history I had just heard.
Since the night Sam told me the myths of Mankind and the History of the Great Houses, we had been riding for two days. I was pretty sure we were back in the Cuesta Valley and I was almost certain Sam was taking a roundabout route to the Cairn. I was right.
As we dismounted at the Cairn, Sam looked at me and spoke. “I have come your entire life on your birthday.” He paused as if looking for a response, but I didn’t feel there was anything to say so I merely nodded. “When we first built this Cairn, I told you to never look inside unless I did not come or unless you were in danger. You have honored that request. I am here to reiterate that directive,” he paused, a seriousness on his face that I had never seen before, “I am here to remind you that under these rocks, in that Cairn, there are tools for you to access in times of need.”
I frowned.
“Promise me you will come here if you feel you are danger?”
I nodded but I had to ask a question. “Why would I be in danger?”
Sam smiled at me, “I have brought something for you,” he said, ignoring my inquiry. He proceeded to pull out of his bag a baton shaped piece of metal.
“Here,” he said. “You are now twelve and can begin practicing with a real weapon.”
He held the baton in his hand and suddenly it elongated outwards to the size of a quarterstaff, a little longer than 2 and 1/2 meters. The typical quarterstaff, as I would later learn, not only acts as a melee weapon but can be used as a stun gun, emitting electronic pulse charges in close quarter combat with a real life opponent. However, the quarterstaff that Sam handed me was a training version, with none of these features, as it was more akin to a long stick used for melee dueling only. I had seen such weapons before on the GKN and in pictures, but I had never seen one in actuality. Though it was not a real quarterstaff, I was honored that Sam felt it was time to stop using tree branches and sticks for my training. I smiled and thanked him. He said nothing as he stretched his hand out to me, the staff there for the taking.
“For me?” I asked.
“Take it,” he said softly. “This is a crude version, with little in the way of exotic metals to channel any powers you might possess, but it will do for now.”
I grabbed the staff and felt a mild electrical shock, like touching a blanket, and as I did, the staff retraced back into its original baton shape. I stood holding it and wondered what it would be like for it to open, and just like that, it opened, extending to the rough length of four meters plus. I spun it in my hands, performing a whirlwind maneuver, and then began to thrust and parry, using the attacks and parries Sam had previously shown me. It all felt very natural. Sam did not say a word. Instead, he put up our usual target against a tree and then sat down on a nearby rock, obviously inviting me to practice. I did. I practiced for what seemed like minutes but in reality was hours, the sweat pouring down my brows. Finally, I stopped.
Sam nodded for me to sit by him. He pulled out something to munch on and some water. The day was getting late. “Our time is running short,” he said, “but there is one more thing you must learn.”
“Yes?” I asked, inviting my mentor to speak.
“The Power,” he began, “sometimes called the Ability or the Talent,” and now he paused, “what common men call magic, what the Sanguinis’ possess in abundance but what only some of our race possess at all. What is it?”
I said nothing.
“It is based on science,” he stopped for only moment before continuing. “Think of each man as a potential conduit, like an electrical wire, but also consider where energy comes from - it comes from a source, a generator. The energies of the Universe are this generator and every living being is a potential conduit. Some men are more ‘talented’ than others in acting as these conduits. Some men can draw upon these invisible energies throughout their lives and manipulate it to their desires, like symphony conductors in an orchestra,” he paused only to take a breath, “but most of all, it permits those with the greatest ability to serve in the Legio Gemini, for there is a little secret that you must never reveal.” He raised his bushy eyebrows and smiled at me. A long silence ensued before it became obvious that he was waiting for me to speak.
“Yes? I finally asked.
“Will you agree to keep it a secret?” He smiled again, obviously toying with me now.
For some reason, this irritated me. I mean, who was I going to tell, the horse master in town? “Yes,” I said finally, irritation obvious by my tone.
“On your mother’s life and soul” he said as he raised a hand in the air mockingly.
“Yes!” I said immediately.
He frowned. “You are too quick to barter your mother’s soul,” he said. “I do not think I can share this with you yet,” and he turned away.
“No, Sam.” I chased him down and grabbed his arm, turning him toward me, ” I promise I will keep this secret. I promise.”
“Well, you must know then that this is the lifeblood of the Legio Gemini and this secret is what separates them from the rest of humanity.”
“And what is that?” I asked.
Sam smiled and then spoke, speaking the words I would never forget. “The Legio Gemini, in truth, are not a military order.” He peered deep into my eyes. “They are a religious order first.”
“An order that has a belief in a supernatural power, God?”
“Something like that,” and he pursed his red lips before continuing, “we are an Order that possesses a faith in the idea that there is a greater power out there that looks over us. The Legio Gemini are this power’s agents, assigned the task of protecting humanity from all enemies, foreign and domestic, bent on Mankind’s destruction. We are a species on the run; we are a species under onslaught; we are a species on the verge of extinction. The only defense we possess is our faith, a faith that there is something greater than us out there, that this something or someone out there that created us loves us and wants us to succeed. For otherwise, why would Mankind possess this wonderful ability we call the Power? Why would Mankind have been endowed with this ability to wield the Power? This Power provides us with the ability to defend ourselves, and with this Power comes responsibility, a responsibility to serve and protect the rest of our species.” For some reason, images of Charley danced through my head at that very moment.
Sam continued.
“Someday you will come to Kether. You will find a world wholly alien in thought to the world you have been raised in. Here on Ptolemy, there is a belief in the supernatural, an acceptance as to its reality; it is part of the way we think. On Kether, and in most of the other, so-called, sophisticated parts of the Galaxy, such beliefs are mocked and viewed as antiquated. This, in my opinion, signals the onset of dementia for a civilization, of decay, of its eventual death. To the most advanced thinkers of our time, the regulators of militant materialism, we are all madmen. They assume the anthropomorphic principle, that God must be like them, a grey haired old man on the clouds. But as a Gemini, which I expect you will eventually become, you will be taught to think upside down, or right side up, to think forbidden thoughts as deemed by the intellectual gatekeepers of our times, and you will be permitted, in fact, you will be encouraged to taste of forbidden philosophies  we shall all take a bite of the apple.” He chuckled at the blank stare on my face, for his words did not mean much to me at the time, though I would better understand them much later.
“There has been a concerted attempt to erase from all memory these ideas the thought being that any consideration of them risks dragging us back to the mental slime from which it took epochs to drag ourselves from. In fact, the opposite is true, for society has become soulless, without vigor to defend itself, looking for someone to surrender too … and the Sanguinis and their rulers are more than happy to step into that role. The Fall of the Celestial City is nigh, and the cataclysm of our times approaches, but in the midst of this apocalypse, there can be a rebirth. In this fall, with the help of a catalyzing individual, the Celestial City can be reborn and Man can be redeemned!”
Sam looked at me strangely as if trying to decipher something in my eyes. I was uncomfortable with the things he was saying for he sounded crazy. I peered at the ground as Sam continued.
“Ketherian man says the Universe is indifferent and in your moments of anguish, there is no point in crying out because there is no one to hear you. My view is that everything was created for us, with Mankind in mind, and when you cry out the Universe turns to you in sympathy.” Sam peered at me, his dark eyes staring into mine, making me deeply nervous. “So this brings us back to my initial question  what is the Power? In my view, it is the ability to bend the rules of probability based on human desire, a series of thoughts emanating from a cosmic mind, pure mind at first, then these thought emanations becoming a sort of proto matter, energy that becomes increasingly dense, then matter itself … and you are the conduit for this Power.”
He frowned, probably realizing that he had spoken too long and revealed too much, “Enough of this mumbo-jumbo … it’s time to call it a night and head home.” Sam left the next day after we returned home, and little did I realize at the time but that I would not see him for many years thereafter.
VI.
CHANGES
Now, of course, it was undisputable that I was in love with Emily, and as I approached my thirteenth birthday, I was finally overt enough to tell her that I adored her and unless she confessed that she adored me too I should be reduced to depression and some peculiar act of self-torture. She then related in no uncertain terms that she loved me too and the comfort this gave me in those moments later in life cannot be overestimated.
I visited Emily’s house often, and strange as it might appear, it was also with the household that I was in love. My family life was not terrible but it always seemed lacking, as if it missed something, and obviously it did not possess a loving father or a loving relationship for my mother. It was in the Ceres’ house that I saw for the first time that inner life of an old, noble, and cultivated family of which I had been deprived. It was at certain hours that the family members played by turns on the piano, an ancient instrument reflective of the contemplative classes, the sounds of which were audible in the living room when I visited. Sometimes when I stayed at the Ceres house with Emily, the rooms were visited by dignitaries from Ptolemy or by other established families from the valley, and this most certainly added to the aura of respectability and high-mindedness that I perceived in the household.
It was a time in my life where I basically had free reign of the Ceres residence. This free reign was a boon but it also exposed me to a very private conversation between Sentius Ceres and his wife Sandra. As I walked down the hall, I overheard them talking. My curiosity piqued, I stopped, not overtly intending to eavesdrop but eavesdropping I did. This would be the second time that I overheard a conversation I was not meant to hear at the Ceres residence.
” I think I have confirmed who he is,” began a soothing but somewhat excited woman’s voice.
“This is a dangerous obsession you engage in,” said a man in response, “I plead with you to stop this crusade of yours and let it drop.”
“But this boy, this potential future husband to our daughter, who is he? Is he worthy?” And now there was a long pause, “are we worthy?”
“What do you mean?” said the man, Emily’s father speaking.
“My sources in Ptolemy believe this Sam who visits every year is no other than Samuel Severian?”
I heard a laugh, but it was a nervous laugh. “That’s silly. You’re saying that Michael is the nephew of the Lord of the Legio Gemini, Samuel Severian?” He laughed again. “You mean to say that the soldier visiting ever year is the half-brother of the Lord of Kether himself?”
There was silence for a bit and I began to wonder if they had departed, but despite the danger of being discovered, I could not make myself escape from my hiding place. I waited, waiting in silence and anticipation, expecting to be discovered at any moment, but hoping to hear more. The woman eventually continued.
“That would make him,” began Emily’s mother, “the son of the Lord of Kether, the son of the Lord of House Severian himself, in line to become the Emperor of Man, future ruler of all the Connected Worlds.” I could tell that her voice was quivering.
Again, Sentius Ceres laughed, but his laugh seemed uncomfortable. He spoke. “but what you say is not logical  at best, he is a bastard born son of a lord; otherwise, how are we to explain his presence here.” Sentius’ voice now became pleading, “my wife, I beg of you, on both knees if necessary, to please stop this insanity. You will bring disaster down upon this family, down upon your daughters, and down upon this community.”
With that, I stepped from the doorway, my hands shaking, realizing that I needed to leave before my presence became known. Who was I? Was Sam really the famous and feared Samuel Severian, Lord of the Legio Gemini? And who was my mother? A commoner for sure I concluded; otherwise, why would we be here on Ptolemy? I frowned as I realized that this would make me the bastard born son of a lord? I felt tears rolling down my cheeks, uncontrollable tears and my chest began to heave. Quickly, I wiped the tears away as I headed down the hallway to Emily, desperately trying to control myself, and it was there I saw Emily still sitting at the table doing her homework. I pretended to focus on my work, but I could not. Fortunately, Emily was engrossed in some menial task and she did not appear to notice my discomfort.
Sentius Ceres came around the corner, his face pleasant and welcoming, not revealing any signs of the concern his previous comments had indicated. He came by our table and looked his daughter in the eye, smiling. “How are things?” He asked.
Emily smiled first at her father and then at me, her vivacious and charismatic look that brought a glow to everything around her on display in all its glory. I could not help but smile myself. “Very good,” she finally said.
“And you?” He asked, looking directly at me, not in the least revealing any suspicions he may have had about my parentage.
I felt like running, like hiding underneath the table, knowing now that he had otherworldly suspicions about me, and feeling nothing but awkwardness. I did neither, instead keeping my poise as best as I could.
“Very good,” I mustered. With that, Mr. Ceres departed, the conversation I had overhead between him and his wife bothering me deeply, but being a young man, with memories as short as the cropped hair I wear to this day, it was soon forgotten.
As my thirteenth birthday arrived, Sam did not come. At first, this concerned me, and I wondered why he did not come. His last instructions, about going to the Cairn, rang vividly in my mind, but something prevented me from going to the Cairn, a sense maybe that there was nothing to worry about, coupled with a hope that Sam would suddenly appear. But he did not, and as the days, and then weeks, and then months passed, I began to think less and less of Sam, and any considerations of going to the Cairn slowly dissipated, with more immediate matters (such as Emily) occupying my energies.
When my fourteenth birthday approached, I again anticipated Sam’s arrival, but he did not come. Once more, I was concerned and thoughts about his last words returned to me, but I hesitated, and I cannot say to this day why I did, maybe I did not feel a need to uncover the secrets Sam had left for me. In retrospect, I believe I subconsciously felt that by going to the Cairn I would be acknowledging that my world was changing, and that my life as I had become used to it was over. I did not want that to happen because I had grown quite comfortable with my routines, with school, with sports, with Emily. This process repeated itself over the next couple of years and soon Sam only became a memory to me, a vague recollection of a time long past. I gave it some thought each year, expecting a sudden appearance from my old mentor, but it never did occur. Eventually, I put Sam in the rear view mirror of memory as the temptation to go to the Cairn and see for myself its secrets mostly faded from my consciousness, but never completely, always nagging at the back of my mind. Nevertheless, every day I continued to practice what Sam had taught me, and in these moments, especially when I was done, sitting sweaty and tired in my room, or on a deserted hillside somewhere in the valley, I thought of Sam and I wondered where he had gone and why he had not come.
I spent an inordinate amount of time with Emily during this period of my life. We used to walk along the river, in a loving manner, for hours and hours, with nothing untoward occurring, just spending moments together. If you ever had a childhood crush, you will understand what I mean. These were the glory years of my life, I think, the most innocent of times as well as the best of times, never to be replicated again. I had my entire existence ahead of me, yet all I could think of was my next encounter with Emily.
Though I saw Charley less, our friendship remained strong though awkward. I had never completely forgiven him for the Finnegan incident, and though he was not completely to blame (for he could not defend himself), the mere fact that he could not defend himself and had forced me to do so continued to irk me. We nevertheless continued to spend time together, though our life paths were diverging. He engaged in no games of athletics but made up for it with his voracious desire for knowledge, spending inordinate amounts of time studying history, science, and mathematics, easily outpacing even the brightest of Cordillero’s youth. There was no doubt that Charley was on a fast track to the University at Ptolemy and there was some talk that he would make a great prospect for off-world studies, even at the Lyceum on Kether. This was crazy talk but his aptitude tests were off the charts and suggested a rare mind. His parents, however, and proud as any parents might be, could not contemplate the idea of losing Charley to Ptolemy, let alone off-planet. Nevertheless, as our years together were coming to an end, I always encouraged him in his studies and encouraged him to aim for the stars.
It was also around my fourteenth birthday that my mother’s health took a turn for the worse. I was fifteen and my mother had by now jettisoned the odious malcontent Will. She had taken to a new man, the stable master, a man new to the village, having arrived around my fourteenth birthday. His name was Jericho, Jericho Stadler. I liked Jericho, as did most of the town folk, for he was a pleasant man, claiming to have left the bustle of Ptolemy for a more peaceful and down-to-earth country life. Unmarried and childless, we knew very little about his past, other than he was good with animals. Jericho was not a tall man, maybe a bit taller than my mother, though he was strong of build. He had black, short cropped hair, military style cut, and his eyes were grey, the color of an overcast day. His nose was short and stubby, and his chin was weak, like a wedge of cheddar cheese. Many viewed him as the mildest of men, a man who seemed to sidle in and out of rooms without being noticed, his head always tilted to one side. But he was certainly not a meek man and his short stature belied a strength, both physical and mental, that I would grow to admire as I traversed my teenage years.
He soon became very popular with the town folk for his ways with any sort of animals. If someone had a problem, they went to Jericho. In fact, this is how my mother and he first met. My mother, as I related before, was a lover of horses and had been her entire life. I noticed that after she rid herself of Will, she again began to ride. It was one of the few things that motivated her to leave the cottage. If not for her love of horses, and ultimately her relationship with Jericho, I believe my mother’s illness would have taken her from me much sooner. As it was, my mother had a couple of years with Jericho, who actually moved in with us after my fifteenth birthday. It was nice to have a real man in the house and I appreciated Jericho’s kindness, calmness and steadfastness. As my mother deteriorated, he never left her side. He comforted her with a cold towel to the forehead and with water and drinks when she asked for them. He made the last days of her life bearable.
Physicians came from afar to check on her but they could find nothing wrong. To this day, I am convinced that she died of depression. I still remember the anger growing in me at whomever this father of mine was who had never come to visit, who had never come to comfort this poor woman. My anger came to a boil as my mother deteriorated and it became obvious that she was going to pass away. As the reality of her impending death became clear, the thought of losing my mother overcame me. I simply could not bear the thought of her no longer being a part of my life. I would find myself fine one moment, and then overcome by uncontrollable sobs the next. I cannot count the times I would run upstairs to my room and shut the door so I could be alone. I knew that Jericho pitied me, but he never said a word and he never tried to stop me or even console me. He let me deal with it in my own way and I respected that.
I recall sitting by her bed one afternoon; it was a very grey day, a most opaque sky canopied the entire valley, and flakes of snow fell in intervals, which settled on the hard path and ground outside without melting. I looked out the window mostly, a drift already forming against the lower panes. I would put my ear to the window and I could distinguish from the sounds of the interior, dreary and sad, and the disconsolate moan of the exterior. It was all so depressing, as if the end times were nigh. My mother coughed, and this ironically calmed me, for it brought me back to the moment. I felt inconsolable sadness as she spoke, and it was obvious where this came from, for I knew that she was dying. She breathed a little fast and coughed a short cough, and this made me cry. The more I tried to compose myself, the more breathless I became and the less control I had. I placed my head against her chest and she coughed again. I lay there forever it seemed.
I would return often to see her, mostly when Jericho was not there, or when Charley’s parents had departed. I also observed, and this cheered me, that Sentius Ceres, Emily’s father often came by, and for this I will forever hold him in high regard. When I was with her, a profound stillness pervaded the room, giving off the scent of sickness. I would watch my mother, try to speak with her, but words were fleeting by now. She would stir herself, and I would observe a pale, wasted, but quite composed woman. She looked so little changed, other than the color of her features, that my fears would dissipate when I was with her.
“My son, my beautiful son,” she would repeat. “You have always made me proud; do not forget me. Do not forget me,” she repeated.
This made me cry even more and I promised her I would not.
As her last days approached, her tone changed, becoming more positive. “I have never been a courageous person, but I am very happy right now. There is nothing to grieve about. We all must die someday and I do believe I am going to a better place. My illness is gentle and gradual and I feel no pain.”
“You are sure there is a better place?” I would ask her.
“I am sure,” she said, “for I have seen it and someday you will too.”
“What do you mean?”
She smiled. “Your soul was reared in such a place; you were born in such a place,” she coughed as she continued to speak, her words murky and mysterious to me. “I am sure there is a future state; I believe there is providence, and it is good and benevolent; otherwise, life is meaningless. I can resign my immortal part without any misgiving. In each of us there is such a part, and you Michael, of all souls living today, are heir to such attributes.”
I have a vague recollection of the day of her funeral  I can still smell the fog hanging over the river, near our cottage, and I can still see the ghostly white air and the breath of the other attendees at the ceremony, all standing in the raw cold. The ceremony was short and I was glad it was, for I did not think I could hold my emotions in check. I practiced Sam’s breathing exercises, also counting backwards as my mother had taught me, doing anything to keep my mind off of the moment. In some ways I regret this approach, for it took me away from a true experience of her funeral, and it took me away from my first experience with the death of a loved one. My recollection of the funeral and of her death is a hazy gray, like the weather that day, and I wish now, even as I sit here today, that it were clearer in my mind’s eye.
There was a small celebration at the Ceres household for her, but it was subdued, and I found it to be depressing. Sentius Ceres approached me and tried to make small talk, and I spoke with him but frankly I do not recollect what was asked or how I answered. I know that Emily came to comfort me, as did Charley, but again, I recall nothing of those conversations. As I look back, I was wallowing in grief over her passing, over the negatives associated with her life, cursing my father, when I should have been celebrating the positives of the life she had lived.
Even before the funeral had concluded, probably days before, it had apparently been decided that I was to continue living in the cottage with Jericho - I am not sure who decided this or even who was involved in that decision. Though Jericho was not my father, he had replaced Sam as the closest thing I had to one in my life. I nevertheless continued to spend a great deal of time at the Ceres household, but life, for some time, took on a dreary monotony - going to school, coming home, going to sleep, then starting the process over. As time passed, the pain dissipated and as it did, the energy and vibrancy of living life returned.
From the hour of my mother’s passing, I set to work afresh, resolving to pioneer my way through every difficulty; I toiled hard and my success was proportionate to my efforts and my immense talents - even I could see that I had such talents, and I discern no point in hiding this. My memory, not naturally tenacious, I perfected with practice; exercise in the form of my katas and the parries and the attacks taught to me by Sam sharpened my physical abilities, as well as my wit. I was becoming formidable. Very formidable.
I grew close with Jericho as he took me under his wing, acting as my counselor, but he was very careful to never try to act as my father. He took me riding, we went camping and hiking, fishing too - he became a replacement for Sam, and as I approached my seventeenth birthday, he revealed to me certain information that I had long suspected but that was only confirmed by his disclosures - you see, Jericho was a soldier and he had come to Ptolemy to protect my mother and I. When I asked if he was a soldier of the Legio Gemini, he shook his head and would say no more. This made me wonder who he was and whom he served, and though I pressed him, he never showed annoyance or frustration by my incessant inquiries, though eventually he relented a bit, only saying he had come to look after my mother and her son.
Charley, after I shared with him this startling disclosure from Jericho, made an even more startling proposition - that Jericho was a soldier of the Legendaries, the name for the fictional super-soldiery of the mythical world Oceanus Ultimatus, a world that was supposedly located outside of Core Civilization and was said to be the secret location of the Hidden House, or House Sandalphon. Of course, I laughed, but Charley maintained a straight face and kept repeating that Oceanus Ultimatus was real and the Legendaries were real. He kept saying that Jericho had replaced Sam because something had happened to Sam. I just chuckled at his conspiracy theories.
It became obvious that the reason Jericho revealed he was a soldier was so he could resume my training. He never asked about Sam, other than to inquire as to what he had taught me. Once this was established, he began the lessons again, teaching the drills, both attack and parry, as well as the katas. But Jericho took it farther. He told me that I was becoming an adult and it was time to learn the true art of quarterstaff combat. Either in the privacy of the cottage or the serenity of a quiet mountain hillside, we began to spar. He taught me Dueling, how to battle another man with the quarterstaff, giving instructions on the nature of close quarter combat in our high technology Universe. He provided lessons on the use of bracers and shielding and described the necessity of quarterstaff combat to pierce a powerful opponents shield. Jericho also provided to me my first inklings as to the method of fighting the Sanguinis, the alien creatures who constituted Mankind’s greatest adversaries, and their super-soldiers, the Franks. We trained most every day now, as if an urgency had overcome Jericho. Regardless as to the reasons, I grew to enjoy the combat, much like I enjoyed the simple drills Sam had taught me, drills that I had been practicing for almost a decade. At first, I felt overmatched by Jericho for he was exceptionally good and I wondered if he could even defeat Sam, but over time, it was obvious that I was coming to match even Jericho’s skill. He even commented that I was a quick study and would make a good Dueler someday.
I specifically recall how he first taught me in the use of the Ability in combat. It happened when he suddenly knocked the staff from my hands with a well-placed gust of air. Where the gust of air came from I could not say, but it was sudden and unexpected, and it disarmed me. I immediately realized that this action by Jericho would have spelled my doom in real combat. He stopped and smiled, before speaking.
“You learn something every day, eh? Just when you thought you could handle me, I pull a rabbit out of my hat!” He laughed before continuing more seriously. “Force is a push or a pull,” he began. “For instance, you have gravity that, in simple terms, is a force that pulls one object to another. You can also have forces that push objects from each other, such as electromagnetism under certain circumstances.” He paused. “I am telling you this because what the Power truly entails is an ability to manipulate force, to manipulate the energies underlying force by mere thought alone.” Jericho proceeded to throw his staff to the ground some three meters away. He looked at me and chuckled. As he did, he reached for the staff with his hand, and like magic, it lifted itself from the ground and darted into his waiting hands.
I laughed. “That’s amazing.”
“Not amazing,” Jericho said with just a hint of mirth coloring his words, “but actually quite simple. Come here and sit next to me.” I did. “If you ponder for a minute, you can see that in order for anything to work properly, it must be well designed. The standard computer has a keypad and a display that allows you to use it; the simple stove in our cottage has dials to control the cooking temperature; the skimmer has buttons that permit you to move and maneuver. All devices, in other words, have an interface that allow the user to communicate with it and direct its proper function. Inside the device, the components are hooked together in the most efficient manner. The Universe is no different than your computer or household appliance or our skimmer, in the sense that it provides a way to interact with you, a sentient being, in an intelligent fashion. It turns out that our Universe was designed to directly interface with your thoughts and your intents. If you are unaware of this user interface, however, you are like a person who tries to use a complicated computer program without having any idea of how the menus work! The key is to understand the Universe’s simple but powerful interface in clear, easy to understand, language, and only you, the sentient interface itself, can figure this out. But there are some tried, true and tested ways of doing this.”
He continued. “In the field of quantum physics, which you have been exposed to, the mere fact of being observed has an effect on the behavior of matter. Matter is, at its essence, made up of pure energy. The fact that simply observing matter makes a difference to its properties or even its very existence means that you, Michael, have the ability by mind power alone to work in changing the world around you. You have the ability to manipulate, in ways you cannot even imagine right now, these hidden energies of the Universe. You will learn how to communicate with your subconscious by using visualization techniques and affirmations to focus your mind. We’ll start small and as you develop your subconscious mind power, you’ll be able to achieve ever greater things in your life.
“Now, you’ll notice that Sam taught you katas, which you may have thought advanced your physical prowess, and they do, but more importantly, they focus the mind. Some call them the ‘moving meditation’ because they blend soft, gentle movements of the body with a calm, contemplative state of mind. He taught you breathing exercises, which also focus the mind.” Jericho paused, “but you must understand that there is a common theme here - focus. When your mind is focused, no matter what is going on around you, only then will you be able to access and manipulate the Power.
“Now, do you see that leaf on the ground over there?” He asked, pointing to a solitary leaf on the ground about ten meters away.
I nodded.
“Focus on your breathing, and as you are doing so, think about the leaf, its shape, its weight, its composition (and visualize it), and all the while be conscious of your breathing - then try to bring it over here by pure thought alone.”
I stood and did as I was told, performing the breathing exercises Sam had taught me, but nothing happened. I furrowed my brow and tightened my grip on my staff, focusing on the leaf and for a second I thought I felt communion with it, felt a kinship with it, but the moment passed. Jericho’s strong hand was on my shoulder then and I looked at him. He smiled. “Enough for today,” he said. “Let’s go home. It will come.”
Over time, I believe I came to love Jericho Stadler, loving him like a father, and his presence in my life was a calming influence. He spent every moment he could with me, but he was not overbearing, allowing me to live my own life, choose my own friends and spend, for the most part, my time as I saw fit.
I still spent an inordinate amount of time with Emily, and she had never veered from enjoying the outdoors. Unlike Charley, she shunned the computer screen and the GKN, preferring to spend her time exploring the beauties of the Cuesta Valley. Oftentimes, she did this with other friends and sometimes I would join her. I recall one particular instance, soon after my sixteenth birthday, when Emily and I were hiking the valley. She had apparently found an old mining road, a road that led up from the Village northward up a rock hillside. As we ascended, I recall slipping and sliding due to the steepness of the hillside, pebbles rolling down behind me. Once we reached a leveling off of the terrain, a beautiful view of the Cuesta Valley to our backsides, she pointed out the old remnants of a concrete structure up ahead, perhaps a bunker, maybe an old mine. Its dilapidated ruins lay next to a wide cavernous tunnel entrance. It was obvious that the tunnel had previously been sealed and had only recently revealed itself as a result of a mini rock slide.
“I’ve been up here many times before and this tunnel has never been here.” She said as she pointed to an avalanche of rocks and dirt to one side of the entrance. “You see there.” She was pointing to the remains of a rock slide to the side of the tunnel. “Obviously, there was a rock slide that revealed the cave entrance.”
“Have you been inside?” I asked.
“Not yet,” she said as she started walking forward.
I laughed. “So, you brought me along so we could explore the tunnel?”
“I wanted to have someone with me that I trusted.” She paused. “I brought enough water and food for a couple of days in case we got lost.”
“That’s reassuring,” I said sarcastically.
Emily stepped forward into the tunnel and as she did so, she pulled out a map. I laughed.
“What are you laughing at?” She asked.
“Where did you get the map?”
“You know me well enough to know I don’t do anything without thorough preparation and thought.” She smiled, a mischievous grin to be sure. “I’ve obviously been doing my research,” she added. “And you must have heard about the tunnels that litter this mountain range?” She asked.
I smiled but said nothing.
“Well, once I found the tunnel, it wasn’t difficult getting an old map off the GKN to try and figure out where we were going.” She laughed, “but there’s no replacement for looking with your own eyes!”
It was not a secret that the mountain range in which we lived was littered with tunnels, some of which supposedly ran all the way to the Ptolemy Basin hundreds of kilometers to the west, some of which supposedly led to the mysterious Command Center beneath our very feet, and some of which ran hundreds of kilometers to the east and down into the great plains. I had heard rumors that the area under these mountains was a maze of underground pathways and caverns, with underground rivers and tributaries; it was supposed to be an area where light rarely penetrated, a world of twinkling glow worms, precious gems and limestone caves, a land inhabited by nature alone, and untouched by Mankind for hundreds of years since the days of the miners. Within this world I imagined visions to rival any deep space landscape, where underground lakes and rivers lie still and calm, and a network of caves and passageways were waiting to be explored.
The tunnel we entered was clearly man-made, and at least around the entrance, it was dug out of dirt, rather than cut out of solid rock. The entrance was quite large. It was a wide mouth of a cave with a mound of dirt creating a small hill over the entrance. The cavern entrance faced to the east and immediately began running down hill, into the earth, westward. The tunnel would have to go downhill, as we were essentially on top of a mountain. Emily never ceased to amaze me as she pulled out two flashlights, atomic powered so they would last forever, and she handed one to me, and with our flashlights in hand, we entered the tunnel. Within a few meters, the entrance narrowed into a smaller tunnel which was about three meters high and two meters wide. The narrowness of the space made my stomach tighten, a queasiness developing within me.
The tunnel headed downward at a steady slope, but it was not too steep. A small channel, made by running water moving through this part of the tunnel was in the middle of the pathway, sort of a small ‘trail’ worn into the floor. At no point was it ever necessary to duck, stoop or crawl in this tunnel, though with my height I felt compelled to do so anyways.
I looked at the ceiling and saw the remains of some form of electrical light system, obviously long since inoperative, and I was amazed at this ancient feat of engineering. We were descending down into the earth in a wide, gradually sloping tunnel that was dug into a red, clay-type dirt. It was not the smooth, laser-cut rock walls that I had imagined an underground journey would possess, but it was just as incredible.
We continued walking through the tunnel for a kilometer or so, delving deeper into the subterranean system. The tunnel was not perfectly straight, but wound left and right and occasionally dropped down a few feet and continued on. It was wet and dank, yet the air remained fresh and quite breathable.
Eventually, after an hour or so, we came to a spot in the tunnel where it suddenly dropped down about a meter and a half. It was not a great obstacle and we could see the tunnel continuing downward, but it was a convenient place to stop. We had a piece of fruit and a drink from our daypacks (more of Emily’s exquisite planning), and we rested at this spot for a little bit. Neither of us said a word with Emily examining her map while I surveyed the ceiling and my surroundings. After the short break, we continued, the thought crossing my mind that maybe we should start heading back but regrettably I said nothing.
By now, we were deep into the mountain, and though I had very little experience with mining tunnels, I expected it to be darker, but it was not. The light from the outside world somehow shone brightly in the cave, even as we continued to venture deeper inside. As we delved into the mountain, the tunnel leveled off, and I could now hear the sound of rushing water, getting louder as the tunnel widened. Almost without warning, we entered a large cavern, at least thirty meters high, with a lake at its center. On the far side of the lake, a waterfall dropped water from above, crashing violently down upon its previously serene waters. I looked around and saw at least two passageways, both on opposite sides of the lake.
I glanced over at Emily who was busily looking at her map. Rather than interrupt her, I remained silent, just enjoying the beauty in front of me. I glanced upwards and saw stalactites, some at least ten meters in length, and I saw beams of light shining through unseen openings. There was evidence of vegetation at the base of the beams of light, blooming greenery and exotic flowers. “Wow!” I exclaimed.
“That’s for sure,” said Emily. ” you see that passageway?” She asked as she pointed toward one corner of the cavern. “According to this map, that pathway ultimately becomes a river and heads west toward the Ptolemy Basin.”
I smiled, “you mean to say that if we wanted to, we could take a raft down that passageway all the way to Ptolemy?”
“Right, but it would go for hundreds of kilometers and who knows what kinds of rapids or drop-offs you would have to brave.” She winked at me. “We’ll try it sometime.”
I nodded, attempting to wrap my mind around a one hundred kilometer underground river.
“And over there,” she was pointing to our right, “I think is a passageway leading east and down to the great plains.”
“What about that way?” I asked, pointing straight ahead toward a small island, not more than 5 meters by 10 meters, located on the far side of the lake. It was nearest to the waterfall and if one looked beyond the crashing water, there appeared to be an alcove hidden from obvious view. Emily peered in the direction I was gesturing and then looked at her map, doing this a couple of times.
“The map shows nothing over there. However, somewhere in this mountain lies the famous Hall of Giants which supposedly possesses hundred meter stalactities and stalagmites.” She was speaking in a breathless air. “And, the map notes the Infinite Ladder, a seven kilometer metal shaft which is a marvel of Ptolemy engineering, lies on the other side of the Hall of Giants, wherever that is.” She stopped for only a moment, and without warning, taking only the time necessary to put her map back inside her obviously waterproofed backpack, she dove into the lake and began swimming toward the island. I hesitated only for a second before leaping in behind her, the water cold as ice and chilling to the bone. Because the lake was not large, it did not take long to reach the island. Both of us, now dripping wet and shivering from the cold, peered through the din created by the waterfall to the alcove hidden beyond.
” I suppose the only way to get there is to swim underneath the waterfall,” said Emily.
Before I could respond, she had leapt into the water again and started swimming toward the waterfall. Just as she got close, she submerged, presumably to swim underneath the crashing water. I could not spot her though I thought I spied her pop up on the other side of the waterfall. Seeing no other option, I again leapt in after her, the cold mountain water numbing my senses as I struggled to move my body toward the crashing water, my limbs cold and shivering - all the while thinking how stupid this all was. As I reached the edge of the waterfall, I submerged and descended, seeing the bottom of the lake not too far off, and when I felt I was deep enough, I swam toward the hidden alcove. I popped up, taking a deep and loud breath, and I saw Emily standing on the shore waiting for me.
“What took so long?” she exclaimed. “Come on, there’s a small passageway over here.”
I nodded as I followed her rapid steps down a surprisingly well lit passageway, not sure where the light was coming from, not sure where we were going, the thought coming to mind that I probably would have followed Emily anywhere. Emily was moving rapidly, too rapidly for my tastes and I was about say something when I heard her exclaim “dead end!” Good, I thought to myself, now we could head home, but things never turn out to be so simple.
I came around the corner, seeing Emily up against a dank and wet mud wall. She had her head up against the wall, as if listening for something. “I can hear rushing water nearby. There has to be an access way here someplace.”
Just as she spoke the words, the ground from underneath her gave way and she disappeared into what appeared to be a sink hole. “Ahhhhhhh,” were her last words. I stood there dumbfounded, unbelief at what had just occurred overcoming me. It took me only a second before I reacted, slowly stepping toward the opening in the ground that had engulfed Emily. I peered down the dark opening, seeing running water, realizing this was another underground river, probably running from the lake we had just seen. I only hesitated for a second, my course of action obvious, as I plunged feet first down the hole and into the underground rapids below.
The ride was not very bumpy as I dropped into a descending river running through a narrow tunnel, expecting to crash into Emily at any moment, though what happened next was startling. I found myself suddenly dropping in mid air into another cavern, providing me only a moment to look down and see another lake approaching. I crashing into the water, submerged a meter or two, then swam to the surface, joyfully hearing Emily’s laughter. “Wow,” she said.
As I regained my bearings, I saw Emily along the shore of the small lake, sitting on a rock. “Well, swim over,” she demanded playfully. Eventually I found myself on the shore next to her, my clothes soaking wet, my teeth beginning to chatter, and I realized that we needed to get out of this cavern and out into the warm surface above.
“So, where are we?” I asked her.
“No clue,” said Emily, but there’s a passageway over there,” she said, pointing to a tunnel opening over to one side of the lake.
“Does the map help?” I ventured.
“Not at all, but” and here she paused,” we have to be getting close to the Hall of Giants and Infinite Ladder.” I knew from scuttlebutt that there was a Command Center located in the bowels of the mountain, and that the Infinite Ladder led to it.
“The Infinite Ladder? Why do you think that?” I asked.
“Look over there,” she said while pointing in the opposite direction of the passageway. I peered through the semi-darkness toward a metal grate, a grate just a bit above the level of the lake, draining water into the lake. “Let’s go take a look.”
Now, I was getting nervous. We were already deep inside the bowels of some unknown mountain, uncertain as to how we were going to get home, and now Emily wanted to search for the mysterious Infinite Ladder that led to the mythical Command Center. “Maybe we should try and find our way home,” I finally ventured. She looked at me, her facial features not in any way hinting what she was thinking, but her teeth were chattering, before she nodded. I exhaled a great big sigh of relief.
“Ok,” she said.
“So, how do we do that?” I asked.
Emily chuckled. “I suppose we head up that passageway.”
We walked along the shore of the lake, cold and shivering, and as we did, I could see Emily peering back at the metal grate, fascination plastered to her face. I am sure we would have explored further if not for the fact we were wet and cold, and even Emily understood we needed to get out of the mountain.
We entered the tunnel, leaving the little lake with the metal grate. We walked on an even level for some time, I estimated a couple of kilometers, before the pathway began to ascend. Eventually, we came to a portion of pathway blocked by a large rock. Emily and I sidled up to the rock, the thought beginning to cross my mind that we might be trapped inside the mountain. Fortunately, the rock was not a perfect fit for the passageway and we were able, after untold hours, to cut into the mud wall along one side, and make a small space for our bodies to wiggle through. We were now not only completely wet but absolutely filthy. We continued ascending for some time, maybe another kilometer before the light of day revealed itself. As we approached the source of the light, we were forced to stoop and then eventually crawl, and I soon felt the ceiling above me rubbing softly against my back. I took the lead from Emily as I was larger and could make a space for her. Soon, I had reached the opening to the outside world and I wriggled myself through a small hole, finding myself on a precipice, high up on the mountain. After helping Emily through the hole, I assessed our location.
“Where do you think we are?” She asked.
“Definitely facing southeast so we probably need to head west to go home. I’m not even sure if we are even in the Cuesta Valley?” I added.
“Look!” She said suddenly, pointing to a road winding its way through the mountains below us. “Let’s head that way.” And so we did. It did not take long but we eventually reached a path which took us around a bend. Once around the bend, we saw the great Cuesta River flowing downhill and into the Cuesta Valley and ultimately into Lake Cuesta. We were home, but I would never forget about the metal grate or the tunnel that had led us to it, and neither would Emily.
VII.
NIGHTFALL
Michael peered at his audience, the Sofer Kyot and the two soldiers of the Legio Gemini, Lord Marith and his teenage son, each of them sitting calmly and expectantly in their seats. The Sofer had his left hand resting on the table, with his right hand hovering over a pad of paper while holding a writing instrument. Kyot’s body leaned back in his chair, as if he had not written anything for some time, and he peered at Michael with unblinking and unrevealing eyes. Marith and his son likewise sat in their seats, backs straight and solid, not hunched over at all, their hands clasped in their laps, but their eyes focused on Michael and Michael alone. To him, it seemed that they were eager for more, eager for Michael to continue with the telling of his tale, and were disappointed that he had stopped, even if only for a moment. But to Michael the break was necessary, for the strains of telling the early years of his life story brought him nothing but heartache and sadness  it made his stomach tight with tension, giving the sensation to him as if he had just finished sit-up exercises, or even been socked in the gut. Michael resolved to steel himself going forward, realizing the story would now become more tragic and sad, so he took a deep breath, the breathing easing his discomfort a bit even though thoughts of his mother resonated. He bit his lip, struggling to control himself as memories that he’d relegated to the depths of his mind, memories that had remained in his subconscious for years, were coming to the fore. He did not like the feeling, a feeling that brought bile to the bottom of his throat, made him squint his eyes as if in discomfort and had him clenching his hands into fists.
He took a long moment to pour himself a half glass of red wine, sipping slowly and methodically as he stared out the window, not worried in the least the effect this delay had on his audience. Michael saw passing skimmers zipping down the Ptolemy roadways, men and women walking on sidewalks, most with their heads facing down, reminding him of beaten souls, monotonously and mindlessly traveling to unimportant destinations. As he watched the bustle of Ptolemy, it brought him back to the present. He took another deep breath and glanced again at the Sofer and at Lord Marith and his son, each of them still quietly and respectfully staring at Michael, obviously waiting for Michael to resume the telling of his tale.
“The next part of this story is very difficult for me,” began Michael, as he paused for only a second to take one more long sip of wine, before once again resuming the tale of his life.
The ball was only just beginning as we walked through the large double doors of the Town Hall. After entering the large hallway, we were flooded with lights and saw flowers lining most every table. From the Hall came a constant, steady hum, as if from a bee hive, with a constant rustle of movement, these sounds acting in concert with the careful, distinct notes of music emanating from the far side of the Ballroom itself, creating an orchestral melody of sorts. Emily tightened her grip on my hand, whether from nervousness or pure joy, I could not say. As we stepped through the doorway, the pomp and circumstance of this, my first dance, struck me. I saw the little old man, hired help by the Ceres Household, his hair playfully arranged in gray curls, playing the part of a high class servant of yore, dutifully standing at the doorway, offering to take Emily’s coat. There was another man, carrying a tray of hors d’oevres, wearing an exceedingly open waistcoat, a white necktie accentuating his servant look, who bowed to us as we passed, the formality of the situation enamoring me.
I looked at my date for the evening, and I reveled in the thought of being with her this night, for she was an angel, an angel of providence I believed, sent to make my life pleasant and purposeful. I stared and her and examined the clothes she wore, the way her hair was styled and the makeup on her face, and I took it all in, breathing in her beauty like a man inhales air. And although it was obvious that Emily’s dress and all the preparations for the ball had cost her and her family a great trouble, at the moment she walked into the ballroom in her elaborate outfit, with all the minute details of her attire perfect, with her hair done up high on her head, and a rose and three leaves on the top of it, she looked to be the most dazzling creature there was in existence, and it was obvious all the effort and preparation was worth it.
When, just before entering the ballroom, her mother, the socialite, smiled and reveled in the obviousness that her offspring was the most graceful creature present and nothing could speak otherwise, the mere fact of Sandra Sentius’s existence soured my appreciation of the moment - I could not say why, but it felt as if a stain had been imprinted on a white linen. I frowned and I am certain that Emily’s mother noticed the frown for she always seemed to be observing me, as if studying me, and though this had unnerved me at first, I had become used to it over time. Instead of thinking of her, I once again turned my focus upon Emily and examined the locket nestled around her neck, a piece of jewelry that felt to me as if it was speaking its own language, a language of pomp and circumstance, and when Emily walked the hall, wearing that locket, it seemed as if she floated, her feet not appearing to touch the ground, her movements light and graceful, as if without effort.
Sentius Ceres appeared from nowhere, his eyes briefly meeting mine. It was a friendly and endearing look, and I thought I observed tears in the making. He outstretched his hand toward his daughter, her arm still momentarily clasping mine at the elbow, but Emily let go of mine and without another glance at me, she took her father’s hand.
“How nice of you to join us,” said her father lightheartedly as he embraced her waist  “not good manners to be so late,” he added. I watched as they danced, her bare arms and shoulders twirling about, her eyes sparkling, and her rosy lips could not keep from smiling from the consciousness of her own attractiveness.
Eventually, it was my turn to dance with Emily. I hated dancing, for I had somehow come to the conclusion that dancing was feminine and without masculine character, despite the fact that I had been raised by a single mother and no father to speak of. For Emily, however, I would have danced all night. Throughout the evening, I saw in Emily the signs of an exhilarating excitement, of an intoxication with the delighted admiration she was endearing in others, and a smile of happiness unconsciously playing on her lips. She possessed a deliberate grace, precision, and lightness in her movements. We sat very little that evening, moving about like little whirling dervishes from one locale to another, until much later when we snuck from the Hall, making our way to the Cairn. I do not know why I took Emily there, as I had never revealed its existence to anyone before. Perhaps I felt it was time to share a bit more of myself, though I cannot say for certain.
“I have something to show you?” I lamely told her.
“Nothing inappropriate I hope,” Emily responded with a sardonic smile on her face.
I frowned, memories of our last encounter still fresh in my mind, an illicit encounter that I would cherish until the end of time. “No, but this is something I’ve never shown another living being.”
So, we departed from the village, on foot, and we ascended to the Cairn, the mostly moonless night conspicuous for the extreme darkness that enveloped the valley. Only a sliver of the moon broke through the dark Ptolemy night, providing a bit of light and background to the short walk.
“Where are you taking me?” Emily asked.
“To my secret place,” I said, “it will be fun,” and here I paused, “and I promise you it does not involve falling many meters into hidden underground lakes!”
It was Emily’s turn to frown, her skepticism clear and present.
It took no more than 20 minutes to reach the Cairn, which remained hidden off the beaten path, never disturbed, never touched by anyone other than Sam and myself.
“What is this place?”
I cut right to the crux of the issue. “Under those rocks are artifacts placed by Sam.”
She immediately understood who I was talking about, “the man who visited you and your mother every year?”
“Yes.”
“Who is he?”
“I really don’t know,” I said truthfully.
“Is he your father?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Do you know who your father is?” She asked, the boldness of her question momentarily shocking me.
“I have no idea who my father is,” I responded.
“That is so sad,” she said.
Her honesty in expressing a feeling that I had so often felt made me feel very close to her. I reached my hand for hers and grabbed it, again thinking of our last encounter, and I wondered if she would take my hand. She gladly took it to my immense relief.
“If we move up there,” I began, pointing at a rock formation about 30 meters uphill, “we can see most of the valley.”
She smiled. “Ok, but …” She began sheepishly, a mischievous grin on her face, “have you ever considered looking under the rocks?” She meant the Cairn obviously.
I smiled, knowing that I had been tempted since the day Sam first built it. “I’m not supposed to.”
She looked at me, “unless?”
“You read my mind,” I answered before pausing for a long moment before continuing, “unless there is danger.” I finally added.
“Such as?”
“I don’t know,” I answered truthfully.
She sighed and grabbed my hand tighter. I remained silent, enjoying the spectacle of the valley below.
“Why did you bring me up here?” She suddenly asked, laughing. “To make out with me again?”
Now, it was my turn to laugh. “To be with you.”
As we sat on the rock, staring out into the night sky, Emily saw them first, unnaturally appearing like rain drops from a cloudless sky, dozens at least  men falling from the sky, soldiers!
“What is that?” asked Emily, worry evident from her tone.
“I don’t know … you stay here,” but it was too late. Emily had already left in a full sprint, heading for the village, the beautiful contours of her figure already gone. I leapt to follow but I hesitated, thoughts of Sam suddenly coming to mind. I glanced over at the Cairn and I knew the moment had come to finally learn of its contents, but my time was short. I sprinted toward the Cairn, the mostly moonless night providing an eerie backdrop to the amazing events of the evening. I quickly reached under the rocks, felt for the bag and grabbed it, acutely aware that every moment I waited created that much more distance between Emily and I.
I held the bag up in front of me, like a trophy, but only momentarily as I reached inside. There was a book and a staff. I grabbed the book and briefly looked at it, a book entitled A Record Of Ancient Matters by Sandis Archeus. I did not bother to look inside the book or leaf through it pages, though this would have been profitable; instead, I quickly put the book back inside the bag. My interest, however, was drawn to the staff, or should I say quarterstaff. It was of an otherworldly and polished metal, beautiful in the mostly moonless night, almost glowing as if powered by an unseen source. I grasped the quarterstaff and felt an immense rush of energy course through my being, followed by an immediate feeling of vertigo as I almost blacked out. It took me a second to orient myself and after I did, I felt different, as if I were floating on air. I breathed deeply, realizing that I could hear and feel my heart beating, thump …thump … thump, beating too rapidly. I glanced at the quarterstaff, which had opened in my hand, extending to its full four meter plus length. I felt the Power cascading through my body from the artifact, and I dropped the bag as I began a full sprint after Emily.
I could hear my breath and feel the ground beneath me, the sound of my feet trampling leaves and twigs like thunder. I ran full speed toward the village, despair growing inside me, as I wondered what was happening? Who were these men? What were they doing here? But, deep down, I knew they were here for me, and I knew that running toward them was foolish. Suddenly, out of the trees, two men, shorter than me, leapt forward, rifles in hand. My newly acquired staff, which had contracted back into its original baton shape as I ran through the forest, without instruction or warning, suddenly expanded as I instinctively swung at the first man. It struck his rifle, knocking it from his hands. I turned quickly toward the second soldier, who seemed shocked by the swiftness of my attack, and before he could raise his rifle, my staff swept it out of his hands. Both men, however, did not panic as they cautiously and expertly moved into a semi-circle around me, previously hidden quarterstaffs expanding in their grips as they did so. They said nothing as they pressed the attack.
I thought of Jericho’s lessons and of his advice to quickly incapacitate an attacker when outnumbered. The advice seemed so out of place now, for these were real men, real adversaries, and they moved quickly. One of the soldiers darted toward me, his staff aimed at my neck, a death blow for certain. I parried the strike, acutely aware that the second soldier was aiming a blow at my backside concurrently. With a quick twist that even a gymnast would have been proud of, I contorted my body and was able to parry the second thrust. This went on for some time, the soldiers obviously growing frustrated by their inability to dispatch a common farmer boy, before I saw Jericho leap from the trees and with one swing break through the helmet and crush the skull of one of my attackers. Before the soldiers’ body had hit the ground, the second soldier’s neck had been broken with another sweeping, but deadly, attack. Jericho did not look at me, but quickly glanced at the vanquished men and then at the area around us, before meeting my eyes, his face stone cold and serious.
“Michael, these are real men with real weapons. Their intent is to kill you. When you wield your quarterstaff, you must swing through their staffs and through their bodies  you cannot swing to contact as if this were a sparring session!” He had clearly emphasized the word ‘through’ in his comments to me, and though the words were cold and hard, I realized that I had not swung through the men’s weapons, but had merely attacked to contact, a habit developed through my many sparring sessions. I vowed I would not make this mistake again. “How did you find me?” I finally said lamely.
Jericho answered abruptly. “That is of no importance. We must leave this place, leave this valley - it is no longer safe. Follow me.” Before he had finished these words, he started jogging up the hill, back toward the Cairn and away from Cordillero, away from Emily. I hesitated. I could not make myself follow. Obviously realizing I was not coming, he stopped, turning to look at me, his face a blank slate, totally unreadable. I found it disconcerting. It was clear that he expected me to speak.
“I cannot leave. This is my home. Those are my friends and they are in danger.”
Jericho continued to stare at me, his face still impassive. “If we go back to the village, they will kill us both,” he said softly.
I found myself staring at the dead bodies on the ground, blood flowing freely from one of the soldiers’ necks. I began to feel nauseous and started counting backwards, taking deep breaths, trying everything and anything I could do to avoid getting sick. Unfortunately, none of these techniques helped as I violently retched onto the hard dirt at the base of a tall tree, gagging repeatedly until everything I had eaten for dinner was on the ground before me. I went to one knee, becoming sick again … and again … and again, my stomach muscles sore from the effort. Eventually I felt a soft but firm hand on my shoulder.
“Michael, we must leave. These soldiers were sent to kill you.” The tone of Jericho’s voice was sympathetic and soft, as if he pitied me, yet the words were jarring, for I knew he was right, but I could not motivate myself to stand. I felt a desire to follow Emily and to see her once more, the thought terrifying that my last vision of her would be her running away from me into the dark forest. I felt tears rolling down my cheeks, the stench of vomit still strong on my breath, my emotions completely out of control, my thinking mind working barely at all. I finally rose.
“Okay,” I said, just as the sounds of soldiers’ voices were heard nearby.
“Cabrasians,” I heard Jericho mutter with evident contempt, as he took one last but telling look at the dead men on the ground. Jericho then grabbed my hand, as if I were his bride or his woman, and pulled me to follow. He led us to a full sprint, my throat burning from the exertion of running full speed up hill, and then suddenly we were passing the Cairn. I saw the bag I had dropped, the bag with Sam’s book, and quickly without slowing, I stooped sideways to snatch it, grabbing it firmly with my right hand, my quarterstaff still gripped by my left. The pursuit was close - we could hear them in the woods around us  and then suddenly there were four soldiers facing us, but they were as surprised by our appearance as I was by theirs. Unfortunately for them, Jericho was unsurprised and ready for the encounter, immediately striking one down before the man had even turned to face us. Two others parried him, engaging and occupying Jericho, while a third leapt at me, his quarterstaff out and swinging, bearing hard down toward my skull with a chopping strike. Instinctively and naturally, I parried the attack, using one of the defenses taught by Sam, though I could not say which one, and I felt the Power flowing through my body but if anything it made me feel unstable and uncoordinated. I stepped back, waiting for the soldier’s next attack, only later realizing how passive I had acted during the encounter.
Jericho by now had dispatched the other two soldiers, and as I defended my ground against the man engaging me, Jericho came up behind him and spun his staff to the back of the man’s legs, dropping him to his knees, and then with a death blow so swift and terrible it remains in my mind to this day, he exploded the soldier’s skull into a thousand pieces, remnants of skin and bone striking me. If I had not retched before, this certainly would have made me sick again, but I was by now sensitized to the blood and gore of sudden death!
Jericho looked at me sternly. “Boy, you must fight - you cannot wait for me to dispatch an entire battle squad by myself while you play sticks with a single man.” I could tell he was angry and his adrenaline was running wild, but he calmed himself and his features softened, the tightness of his lips replaced by a kind and open look. “Yet, I must realize you are a child who has never seen such things,” he added, before his face became stern again, “Michael, you must realize that you will be the death of us both if you do not fight  fight for your life, fight for your mother’s life, fight for Emily’s life! What will become of their lives, of your memories of their lives, if you were to perish here tonight? Now, let us fly like the wind!”
And so we did again, heading deeper into the woods and away from the village, away from Emily, away from everything I had known, always ascending, and I wondered if he had a plan. Then he stopped, and I saw despair come to his face as he pursed his lips and furrowed his brow.
“They are ahead of us and behind us too,” he murmured. “We are trapped.”
We stood quiet in the deep forest for a moment, the far off sounds of men yelling loud and clear, getting closer by the second, and I wondered what we were going to do. I stood in the dark, the bag with the book clutched tightly under my right armpit, the otherworldly weapon in my left hand, before I spoke.
“There is a tunnel,” I said, “that leads to an underground lake. The lake has two rivers, one of which runs to Ptolemy.”
Jericho looked at me and smiled. “I suppose there are some advantages to being a native,” he said playfully as he slapped a hand on my shoulder. “So, where is this tunnel?”
I bit my lip, orienting myself, trying to get a gauge of our location, which was difficult to do in the dark, mostly moonless night. I pointed to the northwest, up the hill, and spoke. “Maybe a kilometer that way, maybe a bit longer.”
Jericho frowned and I knew that he did not take the news well. He remained silent for a long time, maybe a minute, the din of the soldiers in the distance the only sounds to be heard, but getting louder by the second. Then, we heard the bells, the warning bells of Cordillero ringing - someone had sounded the alarm and the soldiers had been discovered. I wondered what that would lead to but I doubted that soldiers would be deterred by farmers. As if some decision had suddenly been made, Jericho smiled at me, and it was a smile of resignation. He looked down at the ground very briefly, before glancing back at me. His eyes were wet and I knew what was coming. He reached a hand out to me and clasped mine. I felt tears coming to me, and my emotions were once again taking over my being, and I was crying.
“No! No!” I said, saying it as quietly yet forcefully as I could. “You cannot leave me! Not you too!”
I saw a lone tear run down his cheek. “It is too far and there are too many. I will draw them away from this place. Stay here in quiet for a bit, then make your way to this tunnel. Seal its entrance and then journey to Ptolemy.”
The tear was half-way down his cheek and he made no effort to wipe it clean, but that was nothing compared to me. I was heaving, completely losing control by now.
“No! I can’t lose you too,” I kept repeating. “Mother, then Emily, and now you! No!”
“I will be fine,” he lied. He turned to go but stopped and looked at me before speaking. “There is a man named Gustav Farmer, an old friend of mine, who lives in a vertical farm on the outskirts of Ptolemy. He is the only soul you can trust on this planet. He will take you in.” Jericho paused, his composure completely regained by now, as he reached for an amulet that had remained unseen around his neck. He briefly lowered his head to remove the amulet and then handed it to me.
“Take this to Gustav. It will authenticate you. Once there, take your place with him for a while, then find your way to Kether and seek out Lord Sandis Archeus. If you tell him about me, and show him the amulet, he will know you. On Kether, trust no one else, not even those who claim to be your kin!” As if to emphasize the last words, he repeated them again, this time more softly and more clearly, and they were words that have stayed with me to this day. “Trust no one else, My Lord.” Jericho said, as he turned and sprinted away from me and toward the sounds of the searching soldiers. I would never see him again.
VIII.
THE UNDERGROUND RIVER; READINGS FROM A RECORD OF ANCIENT MATTERS; AND AN INTRODUCTION TO THE GREAT GAME
I reached the tunnel entrance without incident, having waiting for Jericho to distract our pursuers, pursuers he had referred to as Cabrasians. Cabrasians! I knew of them from Sam’s stories as well as from Charley’s wild speculations - Planet Cabrasas, the home world of House Cabrasas, a rival power center to House Severian. House Cabrasas, the Lords of Insanity as Jericho had called them, for they had embarked upon an ill-conceived eugenics program millenia ago in order to breed a so-called Highborn Lord. You see, the Cabrasians held as an article of faith that a pure born Highborn Lord would once more rise who could wield Lord Samil’s quarterstaff, and they held that such a man, a so-called superman or god amongst men, could be created by selective breeding. Unfortunately for House Cabrasas, this plan of theirs, rather than producing a Highborn Lord, had resulted in the birth of one insane and deformed being after another.
These histories repeated in my mind as I travelled through the caverns of the underworld, heading to my perceived salvation in Ptolemy. For the duration of my journey, the word “Cabrasians” repeated itself, forever developing in my mind an association between them and the horrible events of that fateful night; and soon, as if by hypnosis alone, the mere mention of Cabrasians brought a virulent hatred to my entire being, a hatred that I could not control. I vowed vengeance upon House Cabrasas, thinking of little else as I meandered my way through the underground tunnels, riding the rapids through kilometer upon kilometer of dark caverns - it was a grand adventure, but it was an adventure where the demons of hatred so attached themselves to my soul that it changed who I was, changing how I thought, and ultimately who I was to become.
But I move forward with this tale too swiftly. I achieved the tunnel and by now the sounds of action from below were far and distant. I did not immediately enter the tunnel opening, instead lingering at the entrance and sitting quietly on the ground, looking out over the valley … waiting … waiting … waiting for what I could not say. As the din of the soldiers lessened, lessening to the point of non-existence, it became obvious that Jericho had succeeded in his gambit. At that moment, it was clear that I needed to depart and enter the underworld to escape, but I could not make myself move, my mind working in overdrive, a jumbled kaleidoscope of memories and emotions. If I stayed, a tragic fate awaited me, a fate of capture and death at the hands of the Cabrasians. However, if I entered the tunnel and departed, I would be leaving my entire life behind me, severing my past from my future, and forever leaving Emily, my friends, and my home behind  I would be alone. Alone. Finally, as the night lengthened, I rose from my perch as if some subconscious decision had been made. By then, I could hear nothing, by now suspecting the soldiers were far away, maybe even in the Combre Valley if Jericho had succeeded in pulling them away from my location. I knew, however, they would eventually return when they realized the nature of the deception played upon them. Understanding that if I stayed, Jericho’s sacrifice would be for naught, I entered the mountain opening.
I recalled the tunnel from my prior adventure with Emily and I remembered that the entrance was tight and narrow. After I stepped through the opening, I looked around to see if there was a way to seal the tunnel as Jericho had suggested. Above the entranceway hung a jumble of loose rocks, barely still attached to the high wall. With a hacking motion, I struck at them using my quarterstaff, as if hitting a tree with an axe. Shards came tumbling down but not enough to seal the opening. I repeated the process until I had effectuated a mini-avalanche of sorts, blocking the entrance. My fate was set and my path now clear - I was traveling to Ptolemy. I just hoped that the river running west through the mountains actually took me to my intended destination.
I walked down the descending pathway for some time, recollections of my prior sojourn hazy and stale. As I trudged down the wet pathway, water dripping from unseen crevices, the sound of a running river buzzing in my ears, my rage and anger blinded me to the obvious problems I faced  no food, no water, and no friends. The unappealing conclusion would soon come to me that I truly did not know where I was going, and more importantly and ominously, that I was alone. Alone. I began to wonder if my mention to Jericho of the underground tributary had been a mistake, sealing me to a more miserable fate than before - if I had stayed, I would have been able to fight and stand by Jericho’s side, even to the bitter end. The thought of not being with him at his inevitable death shamed me, and I felt remorse at the thought of leaving Jericho to his fate alone. I vowed I would never leave a friend again. These thoughts, as well as a rage against the Cabrasians, raced through my head for the entire trip to the lake. Eventually, I reached the cavern with the waterfall, the cavern’s contours familiar from my prior visit with Emily. Near the waterfall, and near its base, was the secret pathway, a pathway that led to a deeper lake and a metal grate that signified a secret entrance to the mythical Command Center. I briefly considered that route, but soon concluded it would be unwise, for I had no idea if such a Command Center even existed and whether going there advanced my interests in any meaningful way.
Suddenly, the question entered my mind as to why the Cabrasians wanted me dead. Jericho was so certain of it, but what was the reason? In the excitement of the moment, I had not thought to ask him and I wished I had. I sat down by the edge of the lake, on a large rock, the din of the waterfall crashing into the still waters below ringing in my ears. I put my quarterstaff down and inspected the contents of the bag. The bag, obviously waterproofed as it must have been to have protected its contents for so many years, contained more than merely a book and a staff as I had initially surmised. I looked inside and found a sheathed knife, some twine, a vial, and a bracer, and I wondered why I had not seen these items before. The knife was a useful gift for it could serve many purposes. I unsheathed the knife, touching its blade to my palm, immediately realizing that it glowed a greenish hue in the dark cavern. I guessed it was imbued with the Power, and I wondered if I was holding one of the famous Heavenly Daggers in my palms. The thought quickly passed as I re-sheathed it and next grabbed the twine. Though it had apparently been stored away for untold years, it was dry and new  another artifact of mysterious manufacture I concluded. The twine would be good for fishing and a myriad of other uses. I replaced the twine in the bag, most intrigued by the bag’s last two items, the vial and bracer.
The vial was a plain grayish container with a screw cap. After twisting mightily for a bit, I was able to open the vial, an immediate and modest fragrance of lemon emanating from its innards. I put the vial to my lips, tipping it just slightly to allow the fluid to touch my tongue, before immediately feeling reinvigorated and strengthened, as if I had just eaten a grand meal. Later, I would learn that Sam had left a vial of “Tumblr”  that is the scientific name for the genetically manufactured substance for soldiers in the field meant to ease their hunger, quench their thirst, and reinvigorate their strength. I only took a drop, realizing the effect of what I had imbibed, not wishing to waste it all, and I quickly replaced the cap and put it back in my bag.
I next looked at the last item from the bag, the wrist bracer, instinctively knowing what it was I held in my hands a weapon of the modern soldier to guard against attacks of all sorts, whether projectile, nano or biological. It also incorporated a plethora of sophisticated electronic devices, including sensors, communications machinery, and a mini quantum computer, none of whose functions I had any idea how to access, let alone operate. The bracer’s only true vulnerability was to the Power, usually embodied by a weapon imbued with the power, the most famous and ubiquitous of which was the quarterstaff - though other countermeasures to the bracer’s defensive shielding would include Power-laced projectiles, heavenly daggers and similarly constructed artifacts. I glanced at my quarterstaff laying on the ground next to me, understanding the devastating effectiveness of the most powerful weapon known to man, a weapon potentially crafted with materials from another Universe that somehow imbued it with the ability to channel the Power. I quickly put the bracer back in my bag, content with the knowledge that if needed, I could use it but I felt no immediate desire to wear it.
I glanced out over the lake and I saw floating timber and wood. I knew I needed a fishing pole for I was uncertain how long this journey would last. After quickly removing my shirt and pants, I waded out into the lake, essentially naked except for my undergarments, and grabbed some floating flotsam  basically, sticks. Shivering from the cold, I returned to the shore and began to carve the end of a long stick with my knife, understanding that the stick could be used for any number of purposes, such as fishing and walking, just to name a few. I must have sat at the side of the lake for hours, before fatigue overcame me and I slept.
A vivid dream came to me as I slept, of Jericho running, albeit quietly, through the forests of the Cuesta Valley, the sounds of his breathing the only evidence of his passing. Then I heard shouts to both sides of him, and I saw Jericho dropping to the ground prone, as if hiding, his head perched upwards like a lizards, surveying the landscape around him. Suddenly, a floodlight appeared boring down upon my protector. Jericho leapt to his feet, coming to a full sprint within seconds, soon ascending a steep hillside. I noticed shadows tracking him to both sides, shadows that in reality were soldiers themselves, running parallel to him, matching his stride, but making no effort to overtake him. As the trees began to thin due to the increasing elevation, Jericho suddenly stopped. I focused on the terrain ahead of him, wondering why he had halted his inexorable progress, and then it became clear. A man stood blocking his way, a man with a familiar face, a man who had been my old protector  it was Sam and I was certain of it. Sam had already removed his quarterstaff and it was extended in front of him, as if he expected conflict. An uneasiness overcame me, a foreboding, and though I hoped that Sam was there to help Jericho, those hopes were soon dashed. Jericho struck first, clearly aware that he was dealing with foe and not friend. His attack was quick and subtle, artful yet deadly, but this did not take Sam by surprise as my old protector easily parried my new protector’s strike. As both men dueled, I became aware of soldiers now surrounding the combatants, and I knew that even if Jericho were to prevail, he could not escape.
I bored in on Sam’s face, hoping to see some emotion, but I saw nothing but a passive and almost nonchalant look, facial features leaking no clues as to what he thought whatsoever. I could not perceive Jericho’s face though I assumed it told much the same story. They continued to duel for some time, neither man gaining any advantage over the other, before I heard shouts from nearby, and I thought I heard the word “My Lord” repeated over and over. Sam appeared to take a momentary glance toward the source of the noises before taking one step backwards and away from Jericho. For a brief second, I thought I perceived indecision on Sam’s face, as if he were conflicted, as if he faced a decision of great import, but as I focused closely on his features, whatever I thought I had seen was gone. Jericho stepped back and he now peered at Sam, a thin smile coming to his lips, and then he glanced around him, surveying the impossible predicament he was in. His features reminded me of the moment before we had split, the moment when Jericho had resigned himself to his fate - his look was the same and it forebode a dismal ending I knew. The brief pause to the duel lasted for only a second, and suddenly Jericho leapt at Sam, his quarterstaff whirling at dizzying speeds, faster than before and more rapid than I had ever imagined a man could wield such a weapon. Sam deftly stepped to the side, engaging Jericho with a beautifully executed parry, followed by a quick counterstrike. What followed was the most mesmerizing twenty seconds I had ever seen in my life  a duel between masters, a duel between professionals at their craft, yet it was a duel to the death. The two combatants engaged each other at such a rapid pace that it almost seemed like their movements became blurred, as if time slowed, and then it was over as Sam struck Jericho a death blow to the neck after having cut him down to his knees. I wanted to scream but something prevented it.
I saw another man come upon the circle, a very tall man, taller than Sam, with dark hair and dark eyes, and he was followed by an entourage of soldiers. I perceived that he spoke.
“Why is he dead?” The man said excitingly, his voice unstable. I was certain, and I could not say why, that this man was the Cabrasian Prince, a man by the name of Leander Cabrasas. “We needed him alive to direct us to the boy!” There was anger and impatience to his tone as he spoke with Sam.
Sam replied, his face impassive, yet I felt that I could discern an emotion of exultation and satisfaction, as if he had somehow thwarted a well-conceived plan, but this would not have been obvious to anyone other than those who knew Sam like me.
“There was no other choice,” he said flatly. “He fought to the death.”
I saw nods around the circle from the soldiers.
“So, where is the boy?” The dark haired man whom I believed was Leander Cabrasas demanded, his voice reminding me of a brewing volcano.
“Not here,” replied Sam tartly, and with that the images disappeared from my consciousness and I perceived no more.
It felt like seconds before I woke to the sight of bright rays of sunlight piercing the cavern from some unseen opening. I gathered my belongings, including my newly cut stick and ventured out from the alcove, feeling good. This feeling quickly dissipated as thoughts of my predicament returned, as memories of Emily, of Jericho, and of leaving Cordillero came to the fore of my consciousness. Suddenly, recollections of the dream returned and I felt tears running down my cheeks. Had I actually witnessed Jericho’s demise? I looked to the ground as my shoulders slumped, depression overcoming me. I stood standing in place, unmoving for some time, the only sound that of the crashing waterfall nearby. Finally, I ventured to move before taking a quick sip of the Tumblr, energy and life returning to my being, before I surveyed my surroundings again, this time with a more critical eye, trying to remember the route to Ptolemy. I immediately recognized the passageway Emily had identified during our previous sojourn, and I turned in that direction. When I reached the passageway, a passageway that presumably led to Ptolemy, I saw that it descended and that a small stream flowed down its middle. I strode down the pathway, my ballroom shoes stepping in the stream with each stride, knowing in my heart that my destination was unclear, my future was muddled and my emotions were a mess.
It did not take long for the stream to slowly but surely widen in size, eventually becoming a small river. I soon reached a point where I could walk no more.
“Well, here goes nothing,” I murmured to myself as I stepped into the water and laid prone on my back, neck tilted upwards so I could see where I was going. Slowly but surely, I began floating down the underground river, moving at a snail’s pace, my biggest worry being that I would suddenly find myself plunging over a steep waterfall to an unhappy ending  but that did not happen, at least not on that first day.
My recollection is that I was travelling slowly at first, maybe floating at two to three kilometers per hour. I remember that the tunnel widened to the size of a large cavern on some occasions, and I saw shores of dirt and rock, with islands of vegetation where rays of light came through unseen openings from above. There were fish in the lake, mostly tiny critters, though some larger fish bandied about. I floated for hours at first and when I found a shore to rest, I took the opportunity to remove my clothing and dry off, rubbing my arms and legs to stay warm. At times, I felt awfully tired and cold, almost sickly and in those times, I made it a habit to take a sip of the Tumblr, the liquid always reinvigorating me, reinvigorating both my physical well-being as well as my broken spirit.
The days passed without event as I slowly descended from the great mountain range via the underground river. My thoughts often strayed from the present and the task of navigating the underground tributary, to thoughts of Jericho and of Sam, and as to whether my dream had somehow reflected reality. At other times when bored, I tried calculating my speed, trying to figure out how far I had travelled. By my best estimates, I was moving anywhere between two to five kilometers per hour, and I had been floating down the river for approximately two days, meaning I was anywhere between fifty and one hundred kilometers down mountain. I knew this was barely one-third of the way to Ptolemy, assuming of course a straight line route which I could not in any way know.
At other times, I replayed, in slow motion, the duel between Sam and Jericho. Though I could not be sure it was real, my recollection of its minutest details remained with me. I looked for errors in Jericho’s technique, for mistakes he had made versus Sam, but I could not find any. I examined for patterns that Sam could have taken advantage of, yet I did not see any. One thing that was conspicuous was how Sam had begin the duel left handed then shifted to his right as the duel’s speed had accelerated. This change did not appear to have caught Jericho by surprise, but it had changed the nature of the encounter just enough to potentially shift the advantage to Sam. I replayed the encounter repeatedly, looking for weaknesses in Sam’s technique, as I drifted downriver and presumably to Ptolemy.
Other than dwell on my predicament and consider Jericho’s possible demise, there was little to do. I took time to fish some days, catching nothing but small tadpoles whom I immediately released back into the river. I also grabbed some of these endless moments to read from the Historian Sandis Archeus’ immense A Record Of Ancient Matters, immersing myself in its thick pages. It was an interesting device, this book, for it was more than a book, its pages possessing the ability to provide three dimensional holograms, presumably from an embedded quantum device. At a later time on this journey, I would take the opportunity to employ this technology, and to have a three dimensional hologram of Lord Sandis Archeus speak to me. On this particular occasion, however, I chose to read the words directly from its pages, words typed on a waterproof material that had withstood the test of time. I recall an entry that I came across related to this mysterious Power that both Sam and Jericho had begun speaking of during my training, as follows:
.
“The Power
In General: The Power is an unexplained phenomenon of science. What is known is that a certain percentage of Mankind have a potentiality in the Power. At best, science has determined that the Power is the ability to manipulate and draw on the extra-dimensional energies of the Universe. It is akin to magic as it appears that certain beings can create energy from nothing, these created energies used to perform task such as the bending of spoons, temporary and minor levitation, healing of wounds, and other minor miracles. Evidence of the Power can only be gleaned by its use
…
Those with the greatest talent (a very select few, though it seems to be inherited) are able to exert mental compulsion, create energy shields, and to a certain extent modify localized time in phase space. The strength of the Power can be exponentially increased through the use of Amplifiers (see below)
…
Amplification: It is well known that the Power can be amplified by artifacts. The most famous artifacts that amplify the Power are Quarterstaffs, Heavenly Daggers, Soul Blades, Channel Amulets, and Jewelry of various stripes. To act as an amplifier, the artifact must be constructed with at least a small portion of otherworldly metals (these are small amounts of metals whose origin is outside the time and space of the Created Universe)
…
The Quarterstaff. The Quarterstaff is the standard weapon and tool used by soldiers in close quarters combat. It is both an amplifier and a weapon of great power. When coiled, a quarterstaff is about the size of a baton, but at the user’s command, it expands outwards in both directions (to about 2 and 3/4 meters). One end becomes a pulse weapon, which upon contact with an enemy causes injury. The other end emerges as a sharp metal protrusion (akin to a bayonet from antiquity) when the use of pulse technology becomes useless due to bracers or other shielding technology. There were nine great quarterstaffs, the weapons of the Highborn Lords of yore. Seven of these are accounted for, having been destroyed, lost or smelted. Two are alleged to still exist, the myth propagated that House Cabrasas and House Severian retain possession of the original quarterstaffs of those house’s founders.
.
I stopped reading, my eyelids growing heavy, though the discussion on Amplification and Quarterstaffs had caught my interest. I vowed to look once more at the quarterstaff provided me by Sam to see if it possessed these so-called otherworldly metals, though I suspected it did. Every time I grasped it, I felt something, like a surge of electricity, and this made me think, deep down, that I had in my possession an Amplifier. The thought passed from my mind as I continued to thumb through the pages of this very long book, written on some form of waterproofed material making it impervious to temporal conditions, such as weather, dirt or water.
I slept again, finding a small alcove away from the rushing river, covering myself with my ballroom jacket, filthy by now, with rips appearing in its fine material, yet also the only form of protection I had against the mind-numbing cold. When I awoke, I could not tell for how long I had slept, and though I was still tired, it was more uncomfortable to sleep any longer. I raised myself, taking another sip of the Tumblr, my body reacting positively to the elixir. By now, I was coming to the conclusion that I needed to get to Ptolemy. My body was not going to be able to take many more days of this cold journey, but I did not know how I could move any faster, unless I wished to get hypothermia and avoid taking breaks. Soon, I was floating down the river, my mind blank, my body cold, focusing all my energies on staying as sharp as possible. At some point, I stopped and rested. As had been my wont during these stops, I pulled out Sandis Archeus immense Record of Ancient Matters. I perused its table of contents and found myself drawn to a chapter discussing the Celestial Civilization. This intrigued me. Suddenly, and I am not sure what I did or how I did it, but in front of me, I saw a three dimensional hologram of an old man appear. It was almost as if this page had been previously programmed to reveal the hologram upon one’s touch. Only later would I learn that this particular program was a message made specifically for someone. For many years, I would assume it had been made for me, but only very later would I learn that the message had been made specifically for Sam, who in turn had given me his copy. Lord Archeus had devised to get this message to Sam generations ago, and it had colored his ways of thinking about the Galaxy and about history, Archeus’ theories influencing Sam in many of the actions he would later take, actions that have yet only partly been revealed during the telling of this tale. It was a pre-recorded message from the Lord Sandis Archeus, a historian of universal repute, a politician of acute talents, and a man who would play a very large role in both Sam’s and my future life.
I peered at the holographic image in front of me, and I saw a man who was wearing a body length robe, blue in color, down past his knees, revealing only sandaled feet. The man possessed a grey beard, not long, covering the entirety of his strong jaw and cheekbones, and he was balding. He was tall, probably close to my height. To me, he was the epitome of what I expected a librarian, or a professor, to look like. Suddenly, he started speaking, first introducing himself as Sandis Archeus. As I sat there, listening to the three dimensional hologram of Sandis Archeus speak about history, it dawned upon me that this was the very same man whom Jericho had advised was the only man I could trust on Kether. I vowed some day to seek him out.
The man called Sandis Archeus spoke about history, and how, in his view, it was cyclical, with alternating Dark and Golden Ages. He spoke as follows:
.
“A society goes through the phase of culture, where its soul is developed, and this leads to the establishment of civilization, for a civilization is the inevitable destiny of a culture. In our time, it can be said that the most dominant of the human cultures that has passed into the phase of civilization is the Celestial Civilization, the Ketherian Civilization, a civilization based on a culture that believed in Providence, and it was a civilization that held tight to the idea that there existed a power higher than Man himself. There have been other civilizations, such as the Cabrasian, Sandalphian and others, though none have matched the reach and success of the Ketherian. It must be accepted that civilizations are the final end to which the various species of Man are capable.
.
From the period after the establishment of civilization, the great civilizational centers are developed. These are the locales where the important intellectual decisions take place, no longer all through the Galaxy as was the case at the earliest stages of a culture’s development, where a little village on an inconsequential planet might play a large role in the birth of new ideas, technologies and societal norms, but the great intellectual decisions were instead made now in these civilizational centers, or world cities if you will, cities that have absorbed into them the whole of that culture’s history.
.
It must be noted that the word city is a misnomer, for in reality, what we are discussing are planetary systems such as Kether or Cabrasas, or even Outremmer before its fall. These planetary systems represent the basic ideas of history. It is in a place where the whole life of broad cultures is collected while the rest of the culture dries up. A creative society, in other words, is dynamic, not stable; it is adaptive to change, not seeking equilibrium; and it is characterized not by those who seek to preserve what they have, but by those who seek to produce what their minds tell them they can have. The liberty of individuals abounds in such a society, as men and women, of all the developed forms of humanity, advance new ideas, new technologies, and new practices. But here is the problem, and here is the problem we face today, a problem greater than any Sanguinis space armada or army, a problem greater than any Frank, or fallen Highborn Lord  once a society enters the stage of the Universal City, of the universal government so to speak, it is the beginning of decline. I posit that with the establishment of the Celestial Civilization, Ketherian society  the greatest of the human cultures developed since the migration  has entered its final phase, a phase of decay and ultimate destruction.
.
The explanation for the collapse of civilizations is obvious. It is clear that the size of political institutions correlates to the ability of living and breathing human beings to engage in meaningful change. We can all agree that life is a continuing process of making adjustments in a world too complex to be predictable. But institutions require, by force if necessary, that they direct the Universe to their desires. This is why the bureaucracy has always expanded - this is so the institutions and those wedded to them can compel the rest of nature to conform to their interests. Thus, it is clear that the power of bureaucracy struggles against the power of life, for power seeks to impose on life to become what it does not choose to be, and hence this results in the ever-growing central political state, and despite the promises of utopia, this central political state will ultimately and inevitably become dictatorial and abusive.
.
The individual, in any of the developed forms of humanity that we see in the Galaxy today, is the expression of liberty in our Galaxy, and more specifically, the individual is the expression of Providence. But institutions are uncomfortable with liberty, and uneasy with Providence. Why is this so? I suggest that this is so because the implicit freedom to engage in dynamic change, to be creative and so forth is inconsistent with the purposes of governments, or if you will, these principles are in conflict with the goals of the universal city, which is the representative of government. Once the universal city is established, it grows like moss on rock, ever expanding and ever grabbing more authority to arbiter each and every aspect of life to itself. Because of their size and scope of operation, institutions deal with people en masse, rather than with people on an individualized basis. The informal practices that connect people to one another are replaced by coercive rules, violence and the threats of violence, for an ever-widening arena of offenses. As the list of coercive bureaucratic rules proliferate, there is a continual weakening of the informal social norms that had previously kept societies vibrant and functioning. Manners and social habits are the first to go, giving way to speech codes, and other forms of bureaucratically-required rules of conduct. When a civilization reaches this point, it is probably finished.
.
Unfortunately, it is clear that Ketherian Civilization has reached this point. How do we know? Science no longer reaches certainties; people no longer accept common principles, fighting all rules that predate their maturity; the arts, rather than operating in a manner that is obvious to most people, make claims of avante gardeness when in fact they disgust and offend; and most people turn to militant atheism, with any mention of Providence viewed with ridicule and slander.
.
Civilizations die out for the same reason organisms do: their failure to maintain a sufficient resiliency that will permit them to overcome entropy. Still, there is no historical determinism at work that would make the collapse of Ketherian Civilization inevitable. Just as water can be dammed up for only so long until it bursts through, the energies driving all living beings will continue to seek expression. To the extent a culture and inevitably a civilization encourages such expression, it will prosper. In other words, there is hope. But, there is one problem. Mankind does not just compete with itself in this Created Universe; it competes with the parasitic Sanguinis and their leaders  leaders some claim are fallen Highborn Lords, but again, that is a discussion for another time. The basic question remains. What can we do? Can the decline be reversed? If not, can the decline be accelerated so a rebirth occurs rapidly enough to stave off the total annihilation of the species? The answers are unclear. Nevertheless, some thoughts on these matters can be asserted.
.
It is clear to me that for the ordinary man or woman, and even for the extraordinary man or woman, whom destiny has placed in this culture at this particular moment in time, our direction is prescribed for us within narrow limits, and under any reasonable analysis there is very little we can do to escape the path set for us, and hence there is little we can do to change the contours of the cyclical events of history approaching like a tsunami. If this is true, then Mankind is doomed, doomed to decline and decay, an inevitable decline and decay that will weaken us to the point where the Sanguinis can eventually overwhelm and enslave us. This is a miserable view, though a realistic one, of a potential history facing Mankind. It is the view that House Cabrasas has resigned itself to, and it is the view that many within House Severian now themselves concede is most likely. Under this view, our lives are barely worth living.
.
Nevertheless, the task facing us, and each of us alive during these apocalyptic times, is one that is historically required; in other words, it is a task that will be accomplished with or without our assent, so why resist it. Why not partake in this history and try, as best as we can, to affect it in a way that preserves Mankind? With this in mind, what can be done? What is the most logical course of action? One view, a view that must be considered, a view that operates to achieve the revitalization of culture and ultimately civilization in the shortest possible time frame, is the occurrence of a cataclysmic event resulting in the destruction of the institutional organs of the universal civilization. Such a cataclysmic event necessarily must preserve humanity’s strength while at the same time eradicating the disease afflicting it, a cataclysmic event that destroys the bureaucracy of civilization but preserves the civilization’s greatest strength, this strength of course being the Order of the Legio Gemini, the backbone of the Celestial Culture for generations, an organization that has been vilified, hated upon, ridiculed and slowly but surely appropriated to the political demagoguery of soulless leaders. But how would this be accomplished. How could the fall of the celestial civilization lead to the immediate rebirth of the celestial culture, with the Gemini at its head?
.
There are no right answers but it seems to me that if the goal is to revitalize the Celestial Culture so as to create strength enough to counter the Sanguinis disease spreading throughout the Universe, the revitalization must be rapid. But how? I posit that after the Fall, a great individual, a so-called great man of history, a catalyzing man that changes the trajectory of historic necessity, changing it in such a way as to benefit Mankind vis-ŕ-vis its immortal and eternal enemy the Sanguinis, must be ready to assume the mantle of leadership amidst the destruction.
.
Of course one will now need to ask the question whether such an individual can exist? I believe so, but how would we know of him or her? And, more importantly, can such an individual be created by Mankind itself, and if so, how? I think the question can only be answered by first describing the characteristics of such an individual. As great thinkers have stated before, and I quote them:
.
‘the goal of humanity lies in its highest specimens’
.
and
.
‘to be able to fall down in such a way that the same second it looks as if one were standing and walking, to transform the leap of life into a walk, absolutely to express the sublime and the pedestrian  that only these knights of faith can do  this is the one and only prodigy.’
.
I mention these quotes not to impress you with my knowledge of esoterica, or overwhelm you with my perceived intelligence, but instead as barometers of what I am speaking about. It is clear to me that such an individual would of necessity be of the blood of the Highborn Lords of antiquity, a God amongst men, capable of wielding the weapons that were brought through the singularity during the migration and soon thereafter. Such an individuals’ existence alone would give pause to the Sanguinis, for the Sanguinis have always worshipped the Highborn Lords of yore as living Gods within the time and space of our existence. Such an individual is also the hope of Mankind and he or she would serve as a beacon of hope to a dispirited humanity, already coping with the calamities befalling human civilization if the noted calamities were to occur.”
.
I closed the book and the hologram disappeared. For a while I sat quietly in the dark cavern, the only sound being the noise of the running river, my thoughts solely focused on the theory of history propounded by the historian Sandis Archeus, and his thoughts on the catalyzing individual. Finally, I re-opened the book, truly fascinated by its contents, just perusing the pages for more items of interest, but what suddenly caught my eye was the last page, and there I saw the following handwritten words:
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“The holder of this book has my recommendation for entry into the Legio Academy.” It was signed Samuel Severian, Lord of the Legio Gemini.
.
I gasped, finally coming to grips that my uncle was the Lord of the most feared fighting unit known to Man. I closed the book, a myriad of thoughts running through my head. Why had he left all these artifacts for my use but then abandoned me? Had he truly killed Jericho? If so, was he doing it to protect me? And, most bothersome, what was he doing, if my dreams were to be believed, assisting the Cabrasians? At sixteen, I would later realize, I was simply too young to take all this information in, too young to understand the great forces unleashed around me  the moves and counter-moves being played by the powers of my era. There would come a time when I would better understand the contours of the great game being played.
Again, I felt tears welling up in my eyes, but this time embarrassment overcame the tears, for as I had floated down the underground river during the previous days, I had vowed to be stronger. I had vowed that I would be a man, and in my world that meant a hardened view of things, a worldview that had no room for tears or signs of emotional weakness. I bit my lip, the exertion at stemming the rising tide of tears taking its toll. As I look back, I was still a boy, a sixteen year old boy at that, struggling with the idea that his entire life had been torn from him, his pseudo father dead, his mother passed away, and his closest friends gone to him forever. I closed my eyes, struggling mightily to control my emotions, as I lay down on the hard ground of the underworld. Tired and spent, I knew that the end of my journey was nigh, and with it, childhood’s end was upon me.
IX.
THE VERTICAL FARM
I came out of the mouth of the cave like a bat out of hell fleeing the light, falling over a small waterfall into a quiet and still lake. The water was warm, at least warmer than the waters of the underground river. I crashed onto my back and submerged deep underwater, as if falling through a trampoline with a hole through its middle. Quickly, I swam to the surface, took a couple of gulps of air, then seeing the shore nearby, I hastened to the beach, soon finding myself sitting on a pebbly and rough sand, under a tall pine tree, wringing my clothes out. It was mid-day, and the suns shone down harshly on Ptolemy and this little spot of the world, making me squint at the brightness around me, and making me wish I had sunglasses or some shield from the light, though the brightness was certainly compounded by my unadjusted eyes which had grown used to the dark caverns. I lay down on the side of the lake, under a tree, and soon I felt my eye lids getting heavy, and before I knew it, I was asleep, so deeply asleep I recall no dreams whatsoever.
The sounds of laughter and splashing water woke me. I saw teenage boys and girls lounging on the other side of the small lake, oblivious to my presence, enjoying themselves. They were in swim suits and were clearly spending a lazy day outside. Their laughter reminded me of better days, of days on the lake shore in Cordillero with Emily or Charley. As I observed them, the sounds of the outdoors reoriented me to the world as I had known it, replacing the constant hum of the underground river that I had grown so accustomed to, replacing the incessant darkness and cold of the caverns I had been traveling, and drawing me back to the world of men. I sighed as I reveled in the sounds of birds chirping and the whistle of the wind as it zipped through the lake valley.
I glanced around me, trying to get a lay of the land. I saw tall green blades of grass swaying in the breeze. I observed bright, pastel flowers around me. The sky was a beautiful light green with few, if any, clouds in it. But in the distance I saw my goal, Ptolemy, its high rises standing tall, the heat of the day making them hazy. I was about to stand when I heard a voice beckoning me.
“You there.”
I glanced in the direction of the voice and saw a fairly tall teenage boy calling to me. While I had been staring at the high rises of Ptolemy in the distance, the boy must have spotted me.
“You there?” He hollered again.
I stood and smiled, pointing with a hand to my own chest.
“Yes,” laughed the boy. I noticed that he had an infectious and charismatic laugh, the type of laugh that makes one smile. “What are you doing?” He asked.
I glanced at the boy who was walking toward me, a pretty brunette girl at his side, and I smiled. As I did, I realized how silly I must look, with my tattered clothes, clothes meant for a high school ball and not for an outdoor excursion. I pulled the bag over my shoulder, the bag with the book, Tumblr, string and my quarterstaff, securing it tightly to my person as if they were the only possessions I owned in this world - which they were.
I was speechless as I had no clue what I was doing other than loitering on the beach of some unknown lake, but I regained my senses rapidly. “I am looking for Mr. Gustav Farmer,” I said, assuming this would draw no reaction.
The boy stopped in his tracks, the smile fading from his face. “Gustav Farmer, you say?” He asked. “What for?”
I could immediately tell that this boy knew Gustav Farmer so I realized it would be best to tread lightly. Even though I had been accorded days to concoct a story, I was ill prepared for this encounter. I stammered an answer as best as I could. “My father sent that I should see him,” I finally said.
“Hmmmn… . and who might your father be?” He asked, pressing me for more information.
I frowned, realizing that any deceptions would have to be minimal. Truth, or at least as much of the truth as I could afford to reveal, was the best approach. “Jericho Stadler,” I said, knowing that Jericho had been a father figure to me.
“And why is it that you need to see Mr. Gustav Farmer?”
Here, I knew he pressed too hard and I knew that I was well within my rights to reject him, but knowing that this teen was potentially my introduction to Gustav Farmer, I decided to tread lightly.
I feigned an embarrassed smile before I answered him. “Though I would love to reveal my business with Mr. Gustav Farmer, my father would be extremely angry if I so cavalierly spoke of it. Do you know him?” I asked the teen.
The teenager, whom I would later learn went by the name Bryon, again smiled his exquisite and charismatic smile, the type of smile that draws you into his world and befriends you. “Of course I know him,” he began, “he is my father. I will take you to him.”
The journey was not short, maybe a kilometer or two. I followed the teen named Bryon, presumably Bryon Farmer. Bryon’s girlfriend, or who I assumed was his girlfriend, following in silence. I would later learn her name was Shirley. They asked a few innocuous questions, but for the most part they spoke amongst themselves, though I caught the girl peeking glances back toward me, and as she did, I thought I saw the thin contours of a smile on her lips.
As we came around a bend in the road and around a small hill, I saw a row of two and three story buildings that had been previously hidden by the rolling hills - these were the first vertical farms on the outskirts of Ptolemy. I wondered if this was where we were going but we continued on, entering eventually upon a paved roadway. It was still a bit of a ways as we ventured further and further into Ptolemy, the buildings growing progressively taller and taller, until we were walking past structures that were ten to fifteen stories high, all vertical farms. It was at one of these that we stopped. Bryon looked at me and smiled as he removed a key card from his waist bag, placing it on some form of key lock. There was a click and the front door opened. I followed him inside the building.
“Well, here we are,” he said. “My father owns the first 10 floors,” Bryon added nonchalantly as if trying to impress me. “We live on the 10th floor. Come,” he beckoned to me. Though I expected an elevator, we took the stairs, and for me, having been traveling without rest for many days, the ascent up the stairs was pure torture and I lagged behind. We soon came to the tenth story, where Bryon led me down a long hallway to a door. He again used his key card to open the door into a lavish studio apartment, lavish by my standards at least, though I would later learn that it was a standard middle class habitation in Ptolemy. As we entered, I saw an older woman, who looked at me strangely. She rose from her seat and stepped toward Bryon. Before she could speak, Bryon introduced me.
“Mother, this is …” and he stumbled, obviously forgetting my name. Not good, I thought. I immediately pegged Bryon as scatterbrained and weak-minded. He looked at me with a devious smile, obviously prodding me to speak.
“Michael Stadler,” I said, saving Bryon from any further embarrassment. “I am the son of Jericho Stadler who asked that I come see his old friend Gustav Farmer.” I smiled as warmly as possible, realizing that my outfit and filthiness did me no favors. I could see skepticism and apprehensiveness in Bryon’s mother’s eyes.
“He is working” she began, “but I can summon him. Please wait a moment.”
She stepped out of the room, into another room with some form of intercom presumably. As she did, I saw that Bryon and Shirley sat down on a lush couch, their swimsuits dry by now though still filthy. I cringed at the lack of respect Bryon showed for his parents abode. They starting to speak amongst themselves, completely ignoring me as if I did not exist but this did not bother me. I was not unfamiliar with such conduct, having become used to it as I grew up, growing up the son of a single mother with no father. Not wanting to be presumptuous, I did not seat myself but rather I strode to the nearby windows and looked out at the scene laid out before me.
From my vantage point, I could see directly to the heart of Ptolemy, its skyscrapers, with circling ships in the distance. I saw a vision of high rises, pyramids and modern architecture - megastructures everywhere. It was just as I had imagined a modern city would look like, though I knew that when one perceived more closely, Ptolemy was in fact a deeply complex city. I had learned in school that due to the cost of retrofitting existing structures, and rather than tearing down buildings or dismantling existing technologies, modifications and additions were merely added to existing buildings, resulting in a deeply layered and complex architecture. This, as I had learned (and would later see with my own eyes), was how most modern cities of the Connected Worlds had been built  other than a few of the younger metropolises where central planning could be implemented. For instance, developers had figured out that it was cheaper to build downwards in some cases, creating a rich architectural underworld beneath Ptolemy, with its own roadways, stores, fashion malls, and apartments. The fiction of perfectly designed and efficient cities was just that, a fiction, for the reality was that economics had just as much to do with how a city was built as vision. These thoughts passed through my mind casually as I heard the door behind me open. I turned to face Gustav Farmer.
In Gustav Farmer, I saw a large, broad shouldered man, with a balding head of formerly black hair, thinning on the front. He had a belly, having let his physique go a bit, though the remnants of an imposing man remained. I speculated that his physique was surely buttressed by the farming he engaged in. My eyes met Gustav’s and he smiled thinly, as if he were forcing an unwelcome emotion. Quickly, he averted his gaze and focused on his son who was cuddling next to Shirley,
“Bryon,” he bellowed.
Bryon leapt from the couch, previously oblivious to his father’s presence. “Yes,” he replied meekly.
“Not here,” his father said, speaking softly this time, as he motioned toward Shirley. Her gaze was on the floor, as she rudely ignored Gustav’s presence. I could tell she despised him. Gustav in turn obviously did not favor her.
“Drinking the wine again?” he said matter of factly, speaking to no one in particular it seemed. After he had uttered the words, it became obvious to me that Bryon and Shirley were mildly intoxicated and I wondered how I had not seen it before.
Gustav Farmer turned toward me, taking a long step in my direction. I smiled as I stretched a hand out in greeting to him. I could tell he was startled by having to look up at me, and I am certain he was not used to dealing with men larger than himself. When he grasped my hand, however, it felt like they had been enveloped by cinder blocks. The hand shake was longer and firmer than I would have liked as if he did not want to let go.
“Jericho’s son?” he said finally as he released my hand, skepticism evident by his tone.
I merely nodded before it dawned on me. Jericho had given me the amulet just for this specific moment. I reached for it and removed it, handing it to Gustav. Gustav did not grab the amulet, merely staring at it, examining the eagle over crossed swords emblem that graced the artifact, but he said nothing. A long silence ensued.
“Put it back on,” he finally said softly. “Mariah,” he began, speaking to his wife, “the boy needs a bath, clothes and food. We’ll put him up with Bryon,” and now he paused. “Brett can sleep with us for now.” Brett, I would later learn, was Bryon’s younger brother, only eight years old. With that last statement, Gustav turned and departed, not saying another word. I could tell that Mariah was stunned but she said nothing. Quickly, she regained her composure and smiled in my direction.
“Michael. Come with me. We’ll find some clothes.” She turned to go but then she stopped, as if she had forgotten something. I saw Mariah look at Bryon and frown. “Bryon. Send Shirley home and help me with your new roommate.”
Bryon smiled. He leaned over to whisper something to Shirley. She got up quickly and walked to the front door and departed, not bothering to say goodbye to Bryon’s mother or me. Before she did, however, she took one long last look at me, her wide and full lips forming the contours of a mischievous smile. I avoided her gaze, but I could sense trouble in her.
Eventually, I was clothed, bathed and set up in Bryon’s room. I felt guilt for having evicted Brett, but what choice did I really have? I suppose I could have lived in the foothills or in the Ptolemy under city, but Jericho had directed me here. I let those thoughts pass, reveling instead in the sensation of feeling clean once again. It felt good to be warm too. I was fed a beef stew that to me tasted like the best food I had ever had, though I knew that any food, so long as it was not Tumblr, would have satisfied me. I was just thankful to be eating real food again and not sipping a genetically engineered energy drink. Bryon and his mother Mariah sat and watched me, amusement evident by their features. They spoke not at all other than small talk. It was about the time that I was feeling fed and full that Gustav re-appeared and seated himself, smiling warmly at me.
“So where are you from?” Gustav asked.
I knew I had to be careful and the last thing I wanted to do was lie to my new benefactor so I decided to be as honest as I could. “I grew up in Cordillero, in the Cuesta Valley - up in the mountains.”
Neither Gustav, Bryon, nor Mariah seemed impressed. “What are you doing here?” Bryon asked.
I hesitated for a second, hoping this little bit of acting would deter them from asking too many questions in this regard. “My father told me to find Gustav Farmer.”
“Where is your father?” Bryon pressed.
Gustav said nothing but he continued to stare at me. It was as if Gustav had fed his son these questions for the express purpose of drawing me out, while he sat quietly observing my reactions.
I was uncertain as to how I should answer. I hesitated for a long time, trying to craft my words so they were truthful yet at the same time not fully responsive. “I’m not sure.” I finally responded.
Gustav raised an eyebrow. “Where did you get the amulet?” He asked softly.
“He gave it to me the last time we were together and said I was to come to Ptolemy and find you.”
Gustav nodded. I thought I saw him furrow his brows and purse his lips but as I studied him, his face remained impassive. Finally, he nodded. “Jericho and I were soldiers together many years back,” he began, speaking now to his family. “He saved my life and I owe him a debt of gratitude. I am certain he would not have sent his … .” and he paused before continuing, “his son unless it were necessary.” Gustav then laughed, and so strange was the sudden release of emotion that the entire table laughed with him, including myself.
Bryon finished his stew and then stood to leave. Mariah spoke. “Will you practice tonight?” She asked her son.
Practice? I wondered what she was referencing, curiosity piquing my interest. But as I considered these thoughts, Bryon shook his head. “Maybe later,” he said. “I’m a bit tired.”
Gustav frowned. “You’ll never get better if you do not practice and especially if you drink the wine all day.” There was disgust to his tone.
Bryon looked harshly at his father. “I practice at the Academy.”
“Hmmmmph!” exclaimed Gustav. “That place is for clowns. They teach you nothing but showmanship.”
I saw Bryon’s features tighten. “That place,” he began, emphasizing the words his father had used but lacing them with sarcasm, “happens to feed into the local Legio recruiting facility.”
With the reference to the Legio, my ears perked up even more, but I said nothing and I continued pretending to be listening politely to the conversation, though I was now hanging on every word.
“That place has sent more men and boys to Kether than any other training facility on Ptolemy,” Bryon continued.
Gustav smiled but it was not a smile of happiness or joy. He stared at his son and then he glanced at me. “I would bet this farm that Michael here could defeat every one of the current students at the Academy. I would bet that he could defeat the instructor too.”
Mariah laughed out loud. I almost spit out the beef stew I was chewing on. I glanced at Bryon and I saw him looking at me. “You?” He said.
Gustav chuckled. “Yes, him. If he is anything like his … . father, I would expect that he could defeat any single dueler at the Academy, including the phonies you call instructors.”
An uncomfortable silence ensued at the table. Bryon did not move, remaining standing in place, before finally shaking his head and departing. I peered around the table, wanting to ask questions and to inquire into this Academy that Bryon had spoken of, but intuition told me that silence was the best course. Finally, Mariah spoke.
“Michael, have you been trained with the staff?” She asked politely.
I looked her in the eye and responded. “A bit, Ma’am.”
“With which school?’
I smiled. “None, Ma’am. I was trained by Jericho er … my father, and by another man before him.”
“Who was this other man?” Gustav interjected.
“A man named Sam.”
Gustav continued staring at me, obviously hoping that I would continue speaking but I said nothing, instead taking a sip from my cup.
“Maybe you would like to join Bryon at the Academy?” inquired Mariah.
I was beginning to really like her - she seemed like such an innocent and trusting soul. “That would be wonderful,” I said, my hands shaking with excitement. In my mind, I saw the Academy as a stepping stone to the Legio and the Legio as a stepping stone to Kether. That was my goal. Once at Kether, I could pursue my ultimate goals of vengeance against those who had wronged my family and friends, and I could find the mysterious Sandis Archeus. I vowed it. I found myself clenching my fists and had to consciously release them.
“Perhaps another time you can go to that joke of an Academy,” said Gustav. “In the meantime, I will need some help with my work. Bryon does not do much around here, or as much as I would like at least, so in exchange for a place to stay, I expect you’ll help.” It was a statement and not a request.
I nodded. “Certainly, sir. I will do whatever you ask. I’m ready now.”
“Certainly not now,” began Mariah before she was interrupted by Gustav.
“Now would be fine. We’ll change into some work clothes and get to farming.”
“Gustav?” began Mariah. “Really?”
Gustav chuckled. “Yes, really. I need the help.”
X.
PTOLEMY
As it is not my intent to report on every waking minute and to provide a complete story of every detail of my life, I will not describe the minute by minute events that ensued. As this is not to be a regular autobiography, I will only relate to you the events that I find interesting and important, and to which my old memory recalls. Suffice to say, I began working in the fields of the vertical farms, eager to justify my place in the Farmer household. I applied myself to whatever tasks were assigned, to assisting Gustav in every endeavor, as if it were the only goal in my life. I did not often practice my dueling skills, for there was no place to be alone, though when I could and was permitted, I would take a stroll, and in those solitary moments, I would walk back to the lakeside where I had first met Bryon Farmer and there I would spend some time with my katas, my attacks and my parries. In the blistering heat of midday or the cooling warmth of dusk, I would work up a sweat and try as best as I could to keep sharp. But the truth be told, those times were few and far between.
As I worked with Gustav, I perceived that he grew to like me, and though he never outwardly revealed this affinity, my instincts suggested this was the case. Gustav never criticized my habits and never commented on my work ethic, which was unusual I concluded, for he would often criticize his son  sometimes directly and at other times in a more unseemly passive-aggressive way. Nevertheless, I could see he was impressed that I never left his side until he released me, and even then, I stayed until I was certain he was done. These moments working the farms grew into days, then weeks and then months, and I found it strangely therapeutic, allowing memories of my recent past to disappear, though these could not be erased completely. Thoughts of Jericho, of my mother, and especially of Emily would intrude upon my thoughts, and I would find myself standing in the middle of the farm, staring into space as if facing Hell’s abyss, before Gustav would speak to me, always softly asking if I was alright. It was during this time that I saw my arms grow strong, my legs sturdy, and my shoulders wide. As I approached my seventeenth birthday, I was filling out, the effects of farming and the end of adolescence combining to grow me into an imposing physical presence. I towered over most men.
During this period of my life, I shared a room with Bryon. At first, it was uncomfortable but soon we become fast friends, almost brothers it seemed. Bryon was a charismatic teen, a boy with a gift for getting away with things, the type of gift that is useful early in life but as one ages into maturity, the type of trait that becomes a curse of sorts, for it conditions one to be lazy. Bryon had a grin like a friendly lion, but a lion he was, for he was loyal and trustworthy; but too trusting in many ways, naďve to the point of being easily influenced by his peers. Physically, he was much like his father, broad shoulders and no neck, with dark hair, bushy eyebrows, and light charcoal eyes  the type of eyes that engulf you and draw you in.
He oftentimes asked me to go out with him and his friends, but I declined, preferring to stay inside. Instead, I found myself staring out the window of the Farmer flat, studying the night lights of Ptolemy, imagining that I was in one of the space planes that ascended from the space port to the Orbiting Shipyards above, beginning the long journey to the Celestial City, Kether. And at that point in my fantasies, thoughts of vengeance would always intrude, and I would clench my fists and close my eyes. When I stayed indoors, I read, reading from the immense A Record of Ancient Matters by Sandis Archeus, immersing myself in its tales and lectures, somehow always finding myself drawn to Archeus’ theories on civilization, a theme that ran throughout his massive work. I went to bed early but woke early, insisting on helping Gustav with his trade, farming the multiple stories of the Vertical Farm, staying with him until he was done. Sometimes, Bryon would assist though he would always ask to depart after a short time, surely to see his friends or to go to his training. He trained at a local studio, a place called The Academy, handpicked by his mother against Gustav’s wishes, for she dreamed of a military career for him and had been hoodwinked into believing that The Academy was the route to such a career. Gustav only sighed whenever he left, for she obviously ruled the roost and though Gustav disapproved of The Academy, he had lost that battle many years before.
I found myself speaking with Gustav often. He questioned me about my youth, my mother, and my experiences. He laughed when I told him the story of Emily and the caverns, though I made a point of not revealing my second sojourn into the underworld as I sought refuge from the soldiers who had invaded Cordillero. I spoke to Gustav of riding in the high mountains, riding a pony at first and then a horse, and before I could stop, or even think to stop, I told him of my training with Jericho. He always nodded and smiled during these tales, welcoming me to continue and continue I would, until Gustav would put a hand on my shoulder and suggest that I sleep. Oftentimes, Bryon was not present, having gone out for the night with his friends, and I would always see Gustav staring at the door to his flat as if hoping that Bryon would return, though this never happened. I knew that Gustav was unhappy and concerned.
On those rare evenings where Bryon stayed in, we would lay in our beds and talk. In reality, it was Bryon who talked, for he was the talkative type, the type of person who does not listen to others for he is always thinking of what he will say next. Sometimes, his little brother Brett would lay with us, listening to his big brother, but mostly it was him and I, and I grew to love Bryon, loving him like the brother I never had. For despite his flaws, his heart was golden and good  the friendly lion I would always remember him as. Bryon often talked of his dreams, dreams I also had, dreams of one day becoming a soldier of the Legio Gemini.
I lived there for many months following these same routines, the experiences mixing together, and then one day, right before lunch, Gustav peered at me and smiled.
“Let’s take a break.”
We sat down and he reached into a bag he had brought and drew out two training staffs. My eyes widened. He handed one to me.
“Come. You do not think that I have not followed you to the lakeside?” Gustav laughed energetically, his laugh making me smile. I could see where Bryon got his charisma. “Come, we will go to the patio. I am curious to see how well you were trained by my old friend.”
We walked to a nearby patio, stepping outside to a blazing day, two suns beating down upon the city, only a light breeze making the heat bearable. He removed his staff and assumed a dueling position. Gustav bowed to me, bowing in the ancient tradition as both Sam and Jericho had taught me. I did the same, and then we began. I started in a right handed position, not looking to attack but instead only probing my opponent, feeling him out for strengths and weaknesses. This had been the first thing taught to me by both Sam and Jerichotest your opponent to learn his strengths and find his weaknesses. It was obvious to me that Gustav was technically proficient and strong, but he was old and out of practice. I quickly concluded that he fought right-handed and it did not take long to determine he possessed weaknesses on the parry by his right hip - that was a natural weakness for all right handed duelers! I probed the possible weakness with slow attacks to that spot, intending not to break down his defenses but only to learn if the weakness was feigned or real. When I was confident he was not drawing me in, I pressed the attack.
Gustav fell back, sweat pouring down his brow, his movements becoming slower and more sloppy, fatigue setting in. He was an old man and I knew I could outlast him, but that was not my goal. I wanted to defeat him. However, caution was required for he was an exceptionally strong man who could break an opponent with one strike. Every time our staves met, it felt like I was running into a rock mountain, my arms tensing and legs bracing. But even so, he was weakening so I continued to press him, Gustav now ceding ground on almost every encounter. By this point, I was rarely required to defend at all, maneuvering Gustav backwards with attack after attack. Sometimes, he tried to counter, but these I easily parried, the attacks non-consequential, and soon his counter-attacks stopped completely. Usually, at this stage in an encounter, I would switch to my natural left side to finish an opponent with a flurry. This time, however, I saw no need for the maneuver, deciding instead to continue to remain with my weaker right. As the sweat began to run down my back, I concentrated on slowly moving Gustav back, moving him toward a corner of the deck. I focused on my footwork, with crisp and sharp strikes and parries, pressing him to retreat. Though he was technically proficient and made no obvious mistakes, he was simply not fast and agile enough to match me, and before long I had maneuvered him into the corner, his range of options now limited. He looked up and smiled before speaking.
“I yield,” he gasped, his voice a gutteral sound resulting from exhaustion. “I yield,” he repeated as he dropped his staff to his side. “You have been trained very well. That was methodical and relentless, without any obvious errors, though,” and here he took a long breath, “you are a bit weak on your left handed defenses,” he added.
I chuckled as I smiled to my benefactor, realizing that he was correct, to a certain point. The problem with his analysis was he was assuming I was right handed, which I was not. “I am actually left-handed,” I said, “and I am weak on defense when I fight right, as I did here.”
Gustav laughed out loud. “Ha ha.” He exclaimed. “You mean to say that you fought me the entire time with your weaker side?”
“I do not mean to brag, but yes.”
Gustav smiled and reached out a hand toward me. I grasped it as we shook, then we sat down on a nearby bench. As we strode toward the bench, I heard a voice from the doorway behind us.
“Impressive, ” said Bryon. He was standing next to Shirley, the same girl I remembered from the lake on my first day in Ptolemy. I wondered if they had witnessed the whole encounter.
I looked over and smiled. Though we had become like brothers, Bryon was incredibly arrogant when it came to dueling. He felt himself invincible. Though I had never seen him in action, never having availed myself of the opportunity of going to The Academy, I expected that he would be easy prey.
“Would you like some real competition?” He asked.
Gustav frowned. “I don’t think that is wise, son.”
“Oh come now fatherI’ve trained with the best Ptolemy has to offer at The Academy, am in line for admission to the Legio, and am in top shape. Mother has said so. Plus,” and he paused here, “with all due respect to my new brother, you cannot expect a mountain farm boy to be a match for one trained at The Academy?” He laughed. “What do you think Michael?”
I chuckled. “Whatever you wish brother, ” I said, though for some reason his attitude of condescension irritated me, especially the way he spoke to Gustav.
Bryon stepped forward and reached his hand out toward his father, beckoning with his palm that Gustav should hand him the quarterstaff. Grudgingly, his father did. Without hesitation, and without observing the formalities of acknowledging one’s opponent, he leapt toward me, his attack clumsy and unbalanced. I easily parried his strike, almost knocking him off his feet with a stern pushback. I could immediately tell he was sloppy and lacked even the semblance of proper technique  completely unlike his well-trained father. Bryon stepped back, assuming a pose of seriousness and perceived danger. I almost laughed as I watched him, and wondered if his trainers had taught him how to pose and how to look like a soldier, obviously having failed to teach him how to fight. I took a breath, focusing now more on not underestimating my opponent than on defeating him.
I struck quickly and expertly, testing my adversary’s balance, for if he did not have balance, he simply could not fight. And Bryon did not have balance as he in-artfully stepped back from my attacks, almost crossing his feet. It was at this point that I realized he was no better than a rank amateur, no better than I had been at 8 years old. I actually laughed out loud. When I did, I saw anger flash across his features. He tried to press me harder, but parrying him was a simple matter, and if I parried with any semblance of pushback, I knocked him completely off balance. He was terrible. I wondered what kind of Academy taught such technique and I vowed to go see for myself.
I pressed him lightly, testing his defenses from both the right and left, and on each occasion he stumbled. He came at me sometimes with advanced techniques, obviously taught to him by his trainer, but without a proper base, these techniques were useless and laughable. Finally, tiring of the charade, I unleashed a swift attack, finishing him with a sweep the leg maneuver, and knocking him from his feet.
When he was down, I stretched my arm to him and lifted my new brother to his feet.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Yes fine.” he said rather sheepishly, “other than some wounded pride.” He paused. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”
I hesitated as my eyes met Gustav’s. “My father,” I finally said.
He nodded before speaking. “You should come with me to The Academy,” he offered.
I nodded as my eyes met Shirley’s. It was a look I had become all too familiar with from the teenage girls as I grew up in Cordillero  a look of desire. I quickly glanced away, thinking of Bryon’s offer instead. If what he said was true about The Academy being a springboard to the Legio, then that could be my path off planet. I nodded.
“Yes, I would like to go.” As I said the words, I looked over at Gustav. His face remained impassive.
Bryon looked at me and then at Gustav, before speaking. “Can you help me get better?”
I nodded.
That night, after dinner, I worked with Bryan on the deck, working on balance and simple strikes and parries. He kept sighing, indicating how boring it was, but I persisted. Gustav came by to watch and though he never said a word, I could tell he was content, happy that his son was finally taking his training seriously. I told Bryon that he needed to practice his strikes and parries every day, and that he just needed to do them slowly and correctly.
“And before you know it, when you are in a duel, it will come second hand.” I chuckled inwardly, realizing that I was a rank amateur who had failed miserably in the only real duel I had been in. Gustav came over when we were done and he put a hand on his son’s shoulder. I thought I saw a smile on his lips as he did so. I could tell he was proud.
For the duration of my time, I heard the rumors, the rumors that a battalion of Cabrasian soldiers had taken up residence in Ptolemy. Even the word ‘Cabrasian’ made me clench my teeth, and deep down I knew that these soldiers were here for me, looking for me, trying to confirm my whereabouts. I wondered if these were the same soldiers who had landed in Cordillero on that fateful night when my life had been shattered. Publicly, they were said to be passing time, as allies of the Empire, on Ptolemy, a frontline world in the Empire of Man; they were said to be showing solidarity with House Severian who had shouldered the burden of defending Ptolemy for generations. Most people did not care, or even know, of their presence, for most folks would never cross paths with Cabrasian soldiers, though rumors of fights in drinking establishments, minor conflicts with local Legio, and other such scuttlebutt sometimes crossed the GKN network cycles. I wondered how I would react if I crossed paths with a Cabrasian soldier. I would soon find out.
With Bryon and I growing close, both in personal terms and in our solitary training sessions, I finally assented to a night on the town with him. We went to Ricky’s, a hangout for teens, with dinner, tables, and music. It was supposedly retro, in the sense it tried to recreate the ambiance of an alcoholic, adult establishment but without the alcohol and adults. This evening would be my first exposure to the wild, big city life of modern youth, with its ingestion of mind altering substances and aggressive conduct, none of which I would partake in. I was content to act as voyeur only. It was a funny evening for me, and I was in a funny mood.
Now, I had met most of Bryon’s friends before, either when they had dropped by or when I had joined Bryon at the lake. For the most part they were like him  arrogant, reckless and drunk with their perceived immortality. A couple of them were from The Academy, rowdy types, like Mark whom I despised. Mark was the son of the owner of The Academy, and he fancied himself a tough guy. I always felt like he was sizing me up, trying to figure me out, trying to determine if he could take me out. I did not like him.
That particular evening, there were four of us  Mark, myself, Bryon and Shirley. We had dinner and made polite conversation, though I had very little to say, mostly just examining the crowd and watching how my newfound friends interacted with the masses. It was weird. I felt like I was standing apart from all of them and just observing, as if a moderator in a science experiment. It was like I could see right through them, right through their insecurities, see what they were thinking and why they did things, and it was uncomfortable. Soon, we left Ricky’s, and I was led to an underground thoroughfare on the outskirts of Ptolemy proper simply called the Subway. The Subway was a long strip of roadway, below the surface level of the city, littered with shops, hangouts and eating establishments. It was mostly a place for youth to loiter, where young people strolled up and down its course. It was shaped like an elongated ribbon and wrapped back on itself. As we walked down the thoroughfare of the Subway, with numerous other folks doing the same, I looked above me and saw a concrete ceiling about twenty meters above, with plumbing fixtures running its course. On the Subway’s side walls were graffiti and political posters, most of them paeons to social or political movements of which I had no knowledge whatsoever.
We’d pass police, always in threes, strolling the course of the Subway. They were harmless, though sometimes they would tell everyone to move along with an authoritarian tone, but for the most part they were just there, their usefulness in their mere presence and not in anything they did. The teenagers had worn them down over time, by being pleasantly sarcastic and obnoxious, so unless someone was openly violent, the police were content to stare you down and do nothing more.
We veered down a side alley, where we sat down. Mark removed a canteen and offered it to us. It was alcohol. I waved my hand to the offer, refusing the mind altering beverage. Shirley smiled at me. She was Bryon’s supposed girlfriend, the beautiful brunette whom I always caught spying glances at me. “Take a swig,” she said aggressively. Bryon looked over at me and smiled.
“He doesn’t drink, Shirl.”
“Why not?” She said playfully as she put a provocative hand on my chest. “You scared of it?”
I stepped back from her, forcing her to drop her hand from my chest. “I just don’t like it,” I said.
Mark glanced at me, disdain evident on his face. “It ain’t bad,” he said, “and it gets your juices flowing.”
I nodded. “Just not something I’ve ever wanted to do,” I repeated, desperate for them to change topics.
They all nodded. We heard a commotion down the alleyway, and I was thankful for it as it changed the topic of discussion. The alleyway, as I would soon learn, was not a dead end, but it split into a myriad of additional side alleys and pathways. The Subway was really one big labyrinth. I saw Mark and Bryon peer down the alleyway. Mark tiptoed down a couple of steps and around a corner before quickly scampering back.
“Bunch of thugs following a little blond kid with long flowing hair. They’re going to jump him. Let’s stop ‘em.”
I nodded. This was something I could agree to, though I knew their motivations were not pure. They were looking to fight, to burnish their newfound skills learned at The Academy. Mark, Bryon and myself proceeded to tiptoe down the alleyway, with Shirley right behind us, until we were within shouting distance. I saw three boys behind a smaller boy, maybe thirteen years old. The thugs - that’s what I called them because I didn’t know what else to call them - were probably our age, about sixteen or seventeen.
“Hey, girly boy, turn around.” They were taunting the little blond kid, but the boy ignored them and continued on his way, speeding up his steps. I could tell he was afraid and I wondered why he was alone in the alleyway.
“Hey boy!” They repeated.
The blond boy stopped, probably realizing that running would be futile. He turned to face the aggressors, revealing a frightened visage. My heart went out to him as I thought of Charley, and all the times I had come to his defense. Memories of Finnegan and his gang flooded my consciousness, bringing anger to the fore of my being. The aggressors stepped toward the boy and shoved him in the shoulder, almost knocking him from his feet. Though the blond boy did not fall, he did drop the books he had been holding in his arms.
“What you got there?” asked the leader of the gang.
“Nothing, just carrying some books,” replied the boy.
The teenager who was harassing the boy leaned over and grabbed one of the books, opening it and pretending to read through it, then he viciously started ripping pages out of the book he was holding. Bryon had apparently seen enough as he rushed at the teenagers from our hiding spot. Mark was not far behind, and I suppose I was not either.
Bryon grabbed the teenager who had been tearing the pages, and threw him up against the wall, pummeling his back. I saw Mark do the same to one of the others. The third teenager leapt to defend his friends, but I grabbed him in a bear hug to prevent his involvement.
“This is safer for you,” I muttered to him. Obviously realizing the wisdom of my words, he did not struggle.
The melee was over in seconds, with the other bullies departing in a heap of hurt, the only one unharmed being the boy I had held in a bear hug.
“Thanks,” said the blond kid to no one in particular.
I reached over and helped him with his books, while he tried to grab up the ripped pages, placing what he could in his pocket. He departed without another word and we let him go. After he did, Mark looked over at Bryon and me, the adrenaline obviously flowing.
“Let’s go find someone to bust!” He exclaimed.
I was dumbfounded. We had just saved the blond boy and now they wanted to go cause mayhem against some unnamed other for no reason other than the thrill of the moment. I couldn’t help but see the irony in the situation, and I made it clear that I was not interested in participating. Mark looked at me and in that look I saw Finnegan - I saw a bully. In Mark, I saw someone who, if he did not get his way, and if he was not able to persuade others to follow him, would resort to violence. This did not overly concern me for I had been dealing with bullies my entire life.
“I’m done,” I said as I looked at Bryon, hopeful that he would join me and set aside his intentions in participating in Mark’s mischief. For a second, I thought he would, as he stared at me, a picture of torment crossing his face. He could not make up his mind. Unfortunately, the pull of his past, of what he had always done and what was familiar prevailed. He looked at me longingly and then turned his head. That was enough for Mark, a triumphant smile on his face as he glared at me. I turned my back on the crew and walked slowly back to the main thoroughfare of the Subway, recalling that there had been a GKN Café back a bit.
I found the café, seated myself at a user interface screen, placed its interface goggles over my head, and proceeded to begin surfing the byways and highways of the greatest information network known to man, a three dimensional warehouse of information loaded with images, pictures and videos of most anything one could think of. The GKN was the Connected Worlds’ collective online shared space, created by the convergence of virtually enhanced physical reality and physically persistent virtual space, including the sum of all virtual worlds, an augmented reality in short. Every user had an avatar, a three dimensional form or figure, usually as a human being though some folks appeared as walking and talking animals, living inanimate objects, or even zombies. Of course, one did not have to partake in the three dimensional world; one could merely survey the world as if from above, invisible like a ghost, and that is how I preferred it.
That night, as I surveyed the GKN, I didn’t know what I was looking for, instead letting my mind wander and take me where my impulses directed. Eventually, I found myself searching for information on Cordillero, and looking through news files - both in print and video  of the evening one year back where the Cabrasians had come for me, where Jericho had been lost to me and where my life had changed forever. I searched and searched but found no records of any such happenings - it was almost as if it had been erased from existence or never even occurred at all.
I searched for Emily and found her social posting - 17 year old girl with dreams of being a physician - it was the type of posting that all post-adolescents make, a statement to the world of their dreams, their goals and their identity. Ironically, I had never created one, at the insistence of my mother and then Jericho. I continued scrolling down her photographs and videos, and that’s when I saw it - a picture of her and I, at the ball. My eyes welled up with tears just thinking of my times with Emily, and I felt an immense desire to go back and see her, to see her father and even her obnoxious mother; but I knew better, knowing that my presence was a danger to them - that fateful night proved it.
I peered closer under the photograph and the words I saw were heart-wrenching - “Where are you?” That was it. I spent many minutes looking at her profile and postings, looking for any other mentions of me, but there were none. It was as if she had been instructed to avoid any further reference to Michael Gershon, now Michael Stadler.
“A drink? Bacca?”
I lurched from my seat, almost falling to the floor  so mesmerized was I by my surfing on the GKN.
“Hunh?” Was all I could muster.
“A Bacca drink?” Asked a pretty waitress, dark brown eyes staring at me, a mirthful look to her features.
I nodded, feeling a sudden desire for the energy producing substance. Bacca was an old crop, ubiquitous throughout human habitations, a crop derived from an old human genetically engineered substance akin to coffee. Different strains produced different products, from livestock feed to vegetables and rugs, even to the mind-altering products of today’s decaying modern society. The most common use for Bacca, however, was the energy drink similar to ancient coffee.
I nodded and smiled at the waitress. She smiled at me.
“I’ll be right back,” she said and I was glad of it. As she departed, I took a moment to leer at her from behind, examining her figure, not too wide hips and athletic, the realization coming to me that I was doing a lot of that lately when it came to women. Suddenly, guilt overcame me, guilt at the emotions I was feeling toward this unnamed waitress, when just moments before I had been thinking of Emily. What was wrong with me? Had I become so ill-bred as to be classified as a Cad? My mother would be ashamed! My head was shaking side to side before I realized I had closed my eyes during this solitary debate, making me look insane or unbalanced to outside observers. Suddenly, I chuckled out loud as I proceeded to replace the nodes on the sides of my forehead.
Quickly, I was back to surfing the GKN, searching for nothing in particular, but going where the whim of my mind took me. Thoughts of “Legio Gemini” arose. In the sphere of my vision, here is what I then saw:
“A military order with significant religious influences. Though oftentimes mistook for the military branch of the Empire of Man, the Legio are the military branch of House Severian. This misconception has extended for generations due to House Severian’s actions in the defense of human worlds under threat by the Sanguinis - whether or not such worlds have pledged loyalty to House Severian.”
.
Down farther I saw the following entry …
“The Legio consist of a space faring branch and a ground based branch. All Legio spacefaring vessels are commanded by a soldier loyal to House Severian, to wit, by a member of the feared Legio Gemini. The Legio’s space faring branch is broken down into fleets, with the Seventh Fleet currently commanded by the Lord of House Severian himself, Markus Severian. The ground based branch is broken down into battalions but its most basic component is the six-member battle team.
.
I continued to scroll down, the words appearing before my eyes based on the thoughts coursing through my mind …
“The Gemini are the elite warriors of the Legio, broken down into battle teams composed of six soldiers each, with each team identified by a numerical number; for instance, Legio IV Gemini would refer to the elite battle group number 4 of the Order of the Legio Gemini, and Legio X Gemini would refer to the elite battle group number 10. Ironically, Legio X Gemini (i.e., Lord Keter’s famous 10th battle group) has been unfilled since Lord Keter’s death. The Order is silent as to whether Legio X Gemini will ever again be recommissioned, though experts suggest that the 10th battle group will be reconstituted when a true heir to Lord Keter is declared.
…
The requirements of joining the Legio Gemini have never been publicly articulated though defectors and other experts have stated that members must possess a natural ability in the Power as well as possess a devotion to the Orders mission. Members of the Legio Gemini undergo a rigorous training of the body and mind, preparing them for combat operations throughout known and unknown space. The primary weapon of the Gemini is the quarterstaff, the ancient weapon of the Shoen, a weapon supposedly imbued with the energies and powers from another Universe.”
.
“Sir, your Bacca,” said the waitress. I jumped again as she once more distracted me from my ruminations. This was the second time she had startled me. I smiled at her and removed the nodes from my head. As she handed me my drink, I realized how pretty she was.
“Want to join me?” I asked instinctively with little forethought to my actions.
She sat down without a moment’s pause. We talked about nothing for a great deal of time, the excitement of interacting with a woman my age intoxicating. I learned her name was Selva and over the course of the next couple of weeks, I made a point of coming to see her often. When she finished work, we walked the Subway, mostly talking, though eventually holding hands too. We talked of our dreams - though mostly she talked of her dreams for I could rarely get a word in edgewise, which was just fine with me. Selva wanted to travel the Galaxy, go to exotic worlds and help others in need. I always asked her how she could accomplish those goals and she never really had an answer. But truth be told, I was never really interested in her dreams, and like most teenage boys my age, I was interested in other things. On some of our walks down the Subway, we would quickly exit down a side alleyway and I would kiss and hug her. This shamed me but I allowed it to happen anyways  I could not stem my physical desires but when I came home later those evenings, I would always feel a great shame and guilt toward Emily.
Gustav, wondering at my evening absences and partly jealous that our private conversations had ceased, playfully asked if I had a girlfriend. I blushed, more in shame at the thought of my betrayal of Emily than at any embarrassment at having a girlfriend. That was enough of an answer for Gustav and he smiled and slapped me on the back.
In those instances when Selva was working, I would still come to the café to spend time surfing the GKN. I always somehow found myself coming to Emily’s page, as if the guilt of my involvement with Selva needed cleansing. One night, on a whim, I acceded to my impulses and left a response for Emily, replying simply “I am fine and I miss you. I will come back.” After I left the message, a deep nervousness overcame me, as if I knew deep down that the act of replying to her posed unforeseen dangers. Instinctively, I removed the nodes from the sides of my head and quickly departed the café, striding to a nearby alley entrance. From my vantage point, I could still see the café.
I do not know why I was suspicious or why I had departed so quickly. Paranoia I suppose but paranoia that turned out to be prophetic. Within a couple of minutes, I saw two largish men approach the café. They were dressed like ordinary folks, wearing jackets and common pants, but it was their physical size that gave them away -they were soldiers I was sure. One of the men stopped at the entrance and turned sideways so he could simultaneously observe both inside the café and outside to its immediate environs. The other man walked inside, quickly darting toward the GKN tables, surveying each of the occupants. He stopped at my empty chair. With that, he purposefully strode to the front desk where Selva was working. She had been oblivious to my sudden departure. I could see them talking for a moment and then Selva frowned. The conversation ended and the man stepped from the café, his head turning from side to side before resting on my location, at which point our eyes met. This was very bad luck. He stared at me and smiled, before beckoning me over with his hand. I turned, quickly darting down the alleyway, realizing that the game was up.
I sprinted down the dark corridors of the Subway’s environs, taking turns here and there, hoping to lose them. I knew they were close, following my every step, but I hoped they were not as familiar with the labyrinthine passageways as I had become over the last couple of months. Sometimes, I would stop at a corner, waiting in the shadows for a second, and I would listen for their pursuit. Always, the pitter patter of their steps would grow louder, as they came closer. No matter which route I took, what tricks or deceptions I played, they always followed - it was as if they somehow knew where I was. We continued this cat and mouse game for some time, before I concluded that they would surely have called for help, meaning of course more soldiers. It dawned on me that my only hope was to escape quickly or my situation would become hopeless. There was a side exit/entrance to the Subway from the alleyways, but it required that I head back in the direction I had come. This meant, of course, that I had to retrace my steps directly through the path of the oncoming soldiers.
I did not hesitate to implement my plan - I have never been one to hesitate once a clear path of action becomes obvious, so I waited at a corner, hiding in the shadows to obscure my presence and hopefully catch them by surprise. As I look back, this was a foolhardy thing to do, but I was young and stupid - as you shall soon see. My heart beat harder and harder as I waited for the men, these ‘Cabrasians’, to appear. As my anticipation grew, my fury also grew, fury at these Cabrasians who had ruined my life. I looked at my hands and they were shaking. I briefly closed my eyes and performed the breathing exercises I had been taught, instantly feeling my heart rate reduce.
The moment was upon me as the soldiers approached. I waited with breathless anticipation and then the first soldier came around the corner, and as he did, my left hand darted for his neck, striking him squarely below his jaw line. The man made no noise as he crumpled to the ground in a heap, probably dead. I leapt over him and toward the second soldier who was only a couple of meters behind. The man was surprised by my appearance but not flummoxed as he reached for his quarterstaff. Unfortunately, I expected this reaction so I was upon him rapidly, a quick strike to his head first followed by another backhanded punch, both of which he deftly dodged. But I had prevented him from accessing his weapon. Nevertheless, and without another moment’s hesitation, he countered with a back hand to my temple followed by a quick kick to my shins. I easily blocked these as I tried to move closer and grab him, knowing that my size and strength would overwhelm him. Sensing the same thing, the soldier kept me at bay with quick punches and backhands, interspersed with short and sharp kicks to my legs. He was buying time, but time was something I did not have.
I bull rushed him and as I did, he struck me square in the face with the open palm of his hand, stopping me cold. Instinctively, my hands went up to my face in defense but he spun and kicked me in the stomach as if anticipating my reaction, almost dropping me to my knees. I lurched backwards and groaned. The soldier continued to press me with kicks and punches, somehow turning me around. He then grabbed me in a headlock. As he did, he jumped backwards and intentionally dropped to the ground, bringing all his body weight down upon my neck, forcing me to strike the alleyway’s hard concrete surface. As I hit the alleyway, I saw stars and felt lightheaded, my consciousness in jeopardy. The pain was intense and I focused on staying awake, worried that I was about to pass out. Fortunately for me, however, as we hit the ground together, the soldier’s grip on my neck loosened, permitting me to roll away from him. I jumped to my feet, almost losing my balance due to lightheadedness, but nevertheless readied myself for the next encounter with this very dangerous man. I would not underestimate him again.
The soldier did not waste any time and came at me with kicks and punches at such a rapid speed that I was forced to cede ground in order to avoid a debilitating blow. As I did, I breathed, trying to regain focus, the back of my head throbbing but the adrenaline keeping me going. I parried his attacks and countered with some punches and kicks of my own, but this time they were not intended to injure my opponent but instead intended only to probe his defenses. I would never make such a mistake again I vowed - specifically thinking of the bull rush I had attempted against this well-trained soldier. Our encounter went on for a number of seconds, as I probed and he pressed, obviously overconfident by now. I noticed weaknesses in his defenses. As he moved me backwards toward the alley wall, I let him think I was tiring by letting my arms droop. He fell for the bait and came at me, and as he did, I struck at his shoulder, affecting his balance to the point where I was able to strike again at his torso and then his head. He was by now completely reeling. I feigned a blow to the head but instead turned him around with another push to the shoulder. Quickly, I grabbed his head into a bear hug and I squeezed, squeezing as tight and forcefully as I could until the man’s arms went limp.
The Cabrasian fell to the ground about 5 meters from his companion’s inert body and I stepped over them both before beginning to slowly jog back in the direction I had come, heading toward the pathway that would lead me out of the Subway, knowing all the while that I could never come back to the café again and also knowing in my soul that I had killed two men. Something of vengeance I had now tasted for the first time - a vengeance for the events of the night in Cordillero that had taken everything from me; and it was a bittersweet taste, as a cup of bad red wine perhaps, vinegarish, its after-flavor like arsenic, rusted and corroding, rendering in me a feeling as if I had been poisoned.
XI.
THE WORLD SHIP
Now, the reader might be asking whether I attended school or whether, upon my arrival in Ptolemy, I had altogether given up on that worthwhile endeavor. Though I had not related the specific details of my last night in Cordillero to Gustav, I had nevertheless insisted that I could not return and that Jericho was most likely lost. Gustav was keen enough to understand my meaning and wise enough to leave good enough alone. So, when the topic of resuming my education arose, Gustav indicated that I would have to continue my studies from home - in other words, I would be homeschooled. Fortunately for me, Bryon, who was one year older, still retained many of his school materials from previous years, making these readily available to me. At first, Gustav attempted to act as teacher, but it soon became obvious that I possessed the discipline to study privately and without coercion, provided that deadlines for milestones were established. In this way, my education continued, and when thorny issues arose, I would approach either Bryon or his parents. If that failed, there was always reference to the great repository of information known as the Great Known Network, or GKN. As such, I continued with my education, imperfect as the approach might be. Truth be told, I found homeschooling as preferable to formal school for it allowed me to follow my own schedule and to perform tasks at my own pace. I studied mathematics, science, and history in this manner, but I have to confess that someone with less motivation than I possessed would probably have failed miserably.
It was during this period of my life that the great World Ship Pliny arrived. The Pliny was a massive object, some five and a half kilometers long, and over two kilometers across the bows. Traveling from system to system throughout the Connected Worlds, the Pliny would dock at orbiting shipyards in a system for months on end, charging admission to the captivated populace of the system it was visiting.
Its collections included some one hundred million biological and geological specimens, a complete copy of public domain gene prints for every species of Mankind, and the entire Ketherian Library of Government on nanocube (as well as copies of the libraries of governments of most every civilization it had visited). The Pliny contained vast racks of storage cells, with most bearing neatly cataloged specimens from all the civilizations it had visited.
World Ships had established themselves as a distinctive phenomenon of the Connected Worlds. Usually, but not always, a ship would approach a system from deep space, identify itself, and politely request specimens, and sometimes also necessary raw materials or supplies. This was oftentimes accompanied by an exchange for a complete copy of its current scientific data storage banks, and/or nano-replicas of some of its more interesting specimens. In some cases (if a ship was generous and/or had large numbers of a certain item), actual specimens would be exchanged. The ship would generally allow visitors and would only leave after interest in its contents waned, at which point it would depart, heading into interstellar space, and eventually arriving at a new system, where the pattern would repeat itself.
In the current era, the arrival of a World Ship was always cause for great excitement in a local star system. The World Ship’s arrival was often anticipated years in advance. Scholars, artists, journalists, media stars, private collectors, and the general public would crowd to have a look, and few were not awed by the vast size of the vessel and its collections, or impressed by the dedication of the ship’s crew - usually of the Laxian species of Mankind, a species of Mankind that had evolved over the millennia into tall, thin, wisplike creatures. Tourists from adjoining star systems would come to visit, because the number of World Ships was relatively small in relation to the vastness of space and the number of inhabited worlds.
Gustav, myself and Bryon visited the World Ship during this period of my life. We departed early one morning, arriving at the Ptolemy space station before dawn, eventually taking a shuttle filled with tourists from the spaceport into the upper atmosphere and beyond. This was my first, but not last, trip into space. My initial view from the window  a panorama of brilliant deep blue ocean, shot with shades of green and gray and white - was of atolls and clouds. Close to the window I could see that the scene below me was in perpetual motion, for I was in movement via the shuttle, and below me was the great curved limb of Ptolemy. It had a thin halo of green held close, looking outward to the blackness of space, sprinkled with the glory of a universe of lights. In this view above me, into the deepness and vastness of the Galaxy, I saw majesty but not welcome. Below me was a welcoming planet, Ptolemy, my home. There, contained in the thin, moving, incredibly fragile shell of the biosphere, was everything that was dear to me.
I held my breath, but something was missing and I felt strangely unfulfilled. Here was a tremendous visual spectacle surrounding me, but it was viewed in silence, not as I had expected my first journey into space to be like  there was no grand musical accompaniment; no triumphant clanging of instruments; no inspired chant. I concluded that I would have to write the music myself as the story of my life unfolded.
Soon, the vision of the World Ship came into sight, a massive structure before me, a mega-scale engineering project, one of a kind, that contained the history, culture and artifacts of numerous human worlds. It was a spacefaring museum, or a relativistic library - whatever one wanted to call it. Soon, our puny shuttle docked in one of the myriad of docking bays attached to the mammoth space structure, a structure which dwarfed the shipyards that dotted the planet’s orbital plane. Seconds later, we were marching off the shuttle into a waiting room, refreshments awaiting us. On one side of the wall, a short, two-dimensional film repeated over and over again, with a narrator speaking, describing the World Ship and how it came to be. For engineering afficionados, the details would be fascinating, but for me, they produced only glazed eyes, though the explanation describing the propulsion systems of the World Ship was interesting; it was a discussion of how the World Ship traveled, as it moved between planetary systems via Dimensional Drive travel (hyperspace) and in-system via Conversion Drive travel (fusion powered).
In its most basic form, a dimensional drive was the machinery that warped spacetime and allowed for travel between star systems, while the conversion drive was the machinery that permitted travel within a star system. The dimensional drive was a space folding technology that relied on exotic energy and matter to warp space and transport a vessel into a nether world where distances became compressed. Travel within this nether world was faster, allowing for quick movements between star systems. The conversion drive, on the other hand, was a fusion propulsion system powered by a massive fusion reaction (within magnetic confinement) which ejected high-energy plasma to provide thrust. Both systems were required for starships if they were to engage in interstellar travel.
The repeating video continued on to discuss other details of the World Ship but I paid no more heed to it as the doorway to the body of the ship slid open. In the frame of the doorway stood the tallest and thinnest human being I had ever seen; it was a Laxian I was certain, having read of them before.
Laxians were a species of Mankind who were supposedly endowed, as a result of a generations long breeding program, with super-intelligence. They were a non-violent and pacifist species of humankind who were rumored to be the descendants of men and woman from one of the original Arks that had come through the singularity at the beginning of time. According to folklore, Laxians had fled the impending internecine war within humanity, disappearing for millennia from the Core Galaxy, only to return as traveling curators aboard World Ships floating between the stars. Though some Laxians had taken residence on populated worlds, they were enigmas, their history a mystery.
It had always been an issue of deep scientific interest as to why the Laxians had evolved at all. The prevailing theory on evolution amongst the intelligentsia was that evolution ceased when science, technology and medicine made it virtually impossible to die from natural causes. In other words, if individuals and/or groups of individuals with less desirable traits did not die off (dying off as nature ordained and expected), there could be no natural selection and hence no natural evolution. Though this had its detractors, the evidence in support of this hypothesis was all around us; in other words, there were no super-evolved humans - unless, of course, you considered the Laxians to be super-evolved humans! Other scientists, from what I learned during my studies, who were labeled as the species-realist camp, came up with a solution to this evolution dilemma, arguing that though physical evolution had stopped, intellectual evolution had not. In other words, certain species of Mankind were smarter than others and were continuing to grow smarter. Because this view was explosive and offensive to many, theorists who held these viewpoints were often characterized as fringe and racialist. However, the undisputed fact was that the Laxians were more intelligent than ordinary Mankind, and no one could say why.
“Greeting,” said the Laxian, his soothing words breaking me from my thoughts. I glanced up and saw that he was speaking to the entire room. “Greetings visitors,” he repeated, the contours of a smile coming to his exceedingly thin face.
“My name is Lan. I will be your guide and host for today, though as you will learn, you will have free reign of this ship, and will probably have no need to consult with me at all. However, there are certain rules you must follow.” He paused as he gracefully waved to the doorway and room behind him, reminding me of a matador of old, “behind me is another room where you will find a bracer. You must place this bracer on your wrist and keep it on at all times while aboard this ship. If you do not wish to comply with this very simple request, you cannot tour the Pliny. You will either be free to remain in this waiting room until your companions, if you have any, are done, or you can board the next shuttle for Ptolemy.”
There was absolute silence. Lan clasped his hands, as if to appear intelligence and contemplative, while he surveyed the room, his dark black eyes darting from person to person until they finally rested upon mine. We made eye contact for what seemed like an excruciatingly long second and then his gaze moved on. He continued.
“Good. It is settled then. Please follow me.”
Lan turned and entered the doorway stepping into another room that was essentially the same as the one we had just occupied. On the wall, I saw small horizontal pegs with wrist bracers hanging from them loosely. Lan stepped toward the bracers and again made a sweeping motion with his lanky and thin arms.
“Please take one and place it on your wrist. Once you have completed this task, follow me into the next room.”
I walked to the wall and grabbed a bracer. It reminded me in some respects of the defensive bracer I had found in Sam’s bag, though this one appeared to be made of a gold-like metal. I glanced at the device for only a moment before placing it on my wrist. I thought I heard a clasp but when I looked at my wrist, nothing had changed. I followed Lan into the next room where I saw a row of chairs, obviously intended for the guests. I seated myself, with Bryon and Gustav following suit.
“The bracer on your wrist will act as a navigation device for you. Just think of what you would like to see or where you would like to go, and a three-dimensional hologram will appear over your palm, providing information that responds to your requests. If you wish to gain an overview of what there is to do, simply ask and the device will provide a table of contents. There is much to see and do aboard this World Ship - there are zoos with live animals to observe; there are museums with artifacts, both ancient and modern, to examine; there are libraries with books, both electronic or hard-bound, to read; there are theaters with holographic actors and actresses to view; and there is much more … certainly more than you can see and experience in one day.”
Lan paused and smiled.
“And if you need help or feel you are in distress, simply call for assistance and help will come. Now, some of you are students, others are scholars, while some are just tourists, but for all of you there will be something of interest. We only ask that you enjoy yourself.” He chuckled. “You may stay as long as you like, or until the World Ship departs the Ptolemy System, though we do not think that wise if you have loved ones and friends planet side expecting you home for dinner.” He laughed again, a solitary laugh in a room otherwise brimming with silent anticipation. Lan continued. “We will periodically check in on you with messages to your device, alerting you of various matters as well as providing updates as to impending shuttle departures. Enjoy!”
With that last comment, Lan turned and disappeared through a doorway. My gaze followed him as he departed before returning to my present companions, Gustav and Bryon.
“Meet back here at the end of the day,” said Gustav, “though I suppose we can communicate with these,” he added, gesturing toward the bracers on our wrists. I nodded as I stood to leave, leaving Bryon and Gustav behind me, not wishing to waste another moment in pointless conversation.
I strode down the same passageway Lan had departed through. As I strolled down the narrow hallway, I wondered if there was a single book that encapsulated everything within this World Ship, a total book or book of the Universe that justified existence in all its forms. Suddenly, an image appeared over my wrist and I instinctively turned my hands upwards so my palm was facing the ceiling. On my wrist, the image crystallized to reveal a library, an immense library, with hard bound ancient texts as well as terminal upon terminal for holographic viewings. This was the great library of the Pliny, one of the wonders of the Galaxy. Suddenly, I found myself walking the hallways, following the instructions provided me, and then I was there, I had entered the great library of Pliny, whose only rivals were the library on Relay One and Kether. As I approached the entrance to the library, I saw the following written over the entrance:
“May heaven exist, though my place be in hell. Let me be outraged and annihilated, but may Thy enormous Library be justified, for one instant, in one being.”
I had no idea what the words meant or who had written them but as I thought of their authorship, the name Jorge Luis Borges came to mind, and I instinctively knew that the bracer had answered my question.
I strode through the doorway, my hands shaking in excitement, anticipation at the prospect of all the knowledge before me. As I entered a large room, I saw countless stations for holographic reading, akin to the GKN stations at the café‘s I had visited so often on Ptolemy. In those stations were numerous people, each transfixed and mesmerized by the information contained therein. Without further thought, I seated myself and placed the goggles over my head, covering my eyes.
Suddenly, I was transformed to a barren dessert with a Sphinx in front of me.
“Hello Michael,” said the Sphinx. I nodded and smiled, knowing of course that the avatar in front of me was probably a non-intelligent algorithm.
“And who or what are you?” I asked.
“Bolos Demokritos ,” said the Sphinx.
I crinkled my brow, the name somehow familiar to me. As if reading my thoughts, the Sphinx spoke.
“I am named after the librarian of Relay One,” it said.
I wondered if I was speaking to one of the famed artificial intelligences that the Laxians had been rumored to have created.
“Are you a … person or an artificial intelligence?” I stammered.
The Sphinx laughed. “You are a curious being,” Bolos began , “but no, I am simply a highly advanced algorithm.” It smiled. “I shall remind you that, despite the best efforts of the greatest scientists known to Mankind, no one has yet succeeded in devising an algorithm that can pass the necessary tests for sentience  the ancient Turing Test.”
“But the Laxians are rumored to have created such an intelligence, correct?”
“They are rumored to have done so,” responded the Sphinx.
I crinkled my eyebrows again, the Sphinx’s response puzzling. Before I could fully think through the import of its words, Bolos spoke again.
“What do you wish to see? Where do you seek to explore? What do you desire to learn?”
I did not know. I was more intoxicated with the idea of being here, of having my un-answered questions answered, and of getting answers to the mysteries of my life. Again, as if reading my thoughts, the Sphinx responded.
“Come here.”
As if hypnotized, I trudged across the sand to the Sphinx. Suddenly, I was transformed onto the back of Bolos Demokritos and we were ascending, the Sphinx’s mane fluttering in the wind. I saw ancient yet magnificent pyramids, and then we were traversing a wide and large sea, with islands below revealing primitive stone age structures, the images coming fast and furious  from moving pictures of early Mankind on a long lost and forgotten world called Earth to the more modern and epic mega-scale engineering of the Core Engineers; from the great clashes of primitive armies in a wooded vale to the high speed engagements of interstellar warships in the deepness of space … and on and on it went.
It felt like minutes, but in fact it was much longer, before we came to the Age of Iamblichus, more commonly known as the Last Magician or the Great Engineer, and we came to the story regarding the engineering of the Great Singularity. By now, we were traveling through the deepness of space, through a cloudy nebula  if such terminology could be applied to a nebula  and then I saw them. I saw the massive world ships, more commonly called arks, hovering near the black hole  there were eleven of these structures, so massive and large as to boggle the human mind, when suddenly a question came to mind.
“Is this world ship, the Pliny, one of the arks?”
Our journey through space halted.
“Yes, in small part only, with many modifications,” responded the Sphinx.
“Which one?” I asked.
We were moving again, speeding toward the hovering arks, before stopping in front of one. The Sphinx said nothing. I peered at the ark and saw a massive structure, quickly realizing that the ark was not a ship but rather a deep space habitat. I wanted to know more and again as if reading my mind, the Sphinx spoke.
“The dilemma facing the Core Engineers was how to transport trillions of sentient beings comfortably through a black hole and then out the white hole on the other end, and to do so safely. Their solution was not a particularly novel one, as the engineering know-how and scientific knowledge existed. The problem was more one of resources and logistics, for the scope of the undertaking was massive. The solution devised lies in front of you.”
The Sphinx paused to allow me to gaze over the enormous structures floating in space before me.
“Mankind undertook the construction of closed, rotating, cylindrical habitats, which have since been inappropriately called arks. They were actually deep space habitats, or generation ships if you will. A full-sized habitat could be constructed from the material mined from a large asteroid or a dwarf planet. A typical dwarf planet of 1000 kilometer diameter would have permitted the construction of approximately ten such cylinders, with a potential population of hundreds of billions of sentient beings per habitat.
“Each habitat was built with a carbon tube technology, similar to that used in the infamous Bishop Rings of antiquity. As a consequence, each habitat, with an interior gravity of one standard gee, could have a radius of 1,000 kilometers and a length of 10,000 kilometers. This radius and length gave each of these habitats more than 60 million kilometers of livable area or a minimum of 10% of the surface area found on a typical habitable-type planet.
“Each of the arks you see before you were constructed with multiple levels (or floors). The so-called ceiling height for each floor was required to clear the rim-walls and upper atmosphere of the cylinder below it, which in the cases of the habitats meant more than fifty kilometers between levels. The internal landscape of the habitats resembled the landscape features of a typical rocky planetoid, such as Ptolemy, containing features such as seas, lakes, hills, and even mountains; but these features added mass to the habitat and therefore increased the load on the carbon tubes holding the cylinders together. To cut down on the additional load, the landscapes were constructed with internal voids and arches, to make the hills and mountains as hollow as possible; these internal voids being used for a number of additional purposes, such as storage and high speed transportation. Each of the habitats was equipped with the infamous VacTrain systems of antiquity, never again to be replicated by the engineers of your species.”
As Bolos spoke, another question came to mind. “Which ones are Relay One and Relay Two?”
Suddenly, we were on the move again, accelerating through the darkness of space toward another ark. The Sphinx stopped in front of one of the massive habitats, only quickly uttering the words “Relay Two” before moving on to another ark before speaking again, “and here is what is now called Relay One but was originally named Novus Initium, the primordial ark, so to speak.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Though all the habitats contained repertories of learning, science and history, Novus Initium, or what is now called Relay One, was equipped with the greatest of such knowledge. Iamblichus designed Novus Initium differently - it was larger, more sophisticated and contained the so-called ‘Labyrinth of Infinite Routes’, or as more commonly referenced, the Great Library. The Great Library was designed as a labyrinth, supposedly constructed to contain 248 circular rooms. Each room somehow wraps around and through every other room, creating a mathematical pattern of exquisite precision and beauty. The interactions of the rooms created a near infinite number of additional chambers  each with its own structure, with its own reference system, and with its own repertory of books. It is said that new chambers are created at every moment of existence, while others are extinguished. The Great Library takes up an entire level on Relay One and is accessible to whomever wishes to view its contents - it is a massive place and it is rumored that scholars and tourists alike who have entered were never seen or heard from again.” The Sphinx laughed as it ceased speaking. We hovered over Relay One for a moment longer before another question came to me.
“What happened to the arks?”
We continued to hover in front of Relay One as Bolos spoke.
“Two continue to exist as Relay One and Relay Two - but I suppose you knew that or would not have asked about them - and both are now located at opposite ends of the Core Galaxy; two others are currently the remnants of World Ships traveling through space piloted by the Laxian species of man; six were destroyed and/or disassembled for the purposes of colonizing new worlds; and the ninth was disassembled for use in the construction of Oceanus Ultimatus.”
“Oceanus Ultimatus,” I repeated, ” it exists?”
“It does.”
“Where is it?”
The Sphinx now looked at me, its piercing black eyes disquieting, as if I had not asked the right question. Finally, it spoke. “To find Oceanus Ultimatus, travel to Relay One and consult Bolos Democritos.”
I remained silent, considering the information I had just heard.
“Shall we continue?” asked the Sphinx.
“Yes,” I began before quickly asking another question. “Why did Mankind feel the need to flee its home universe?”
“That is an inquiry that has many potential responses,” began the Sphinx before continuing, “one reason was that many felt that the birth universe was dying; a second reason was merely the natural human inclination to create and build new civilizations; and the third was the desire for adventure and exploration.”
“How was the singularity created?” I inquired.
Suddenly, mathematical figures and geometrical shapes appeared, scrolling furiously in the air before me. I laughed.
“In plain language,” I said.
Bolos Democritos began speaking without missing a beat. “The Core Engineer Iamblichus authored ‘The Plan of a Thousand Years,” an audacious scheme to create a new Universe in a short span of years. Iamblichus was the pre-eminent mind of his era, a genius to the masses, but the most apt characterization of him would be as a potter working clay into a recognizably ordered structure. He is correctly credited with the creation of our Universe. Once this ‘Plan of a Thousand Years’ was devised and the calculations prepared, it became merely a matter of logistics and will. The central problem facing the Core Engineers was in creating a massive black hole in a short period of time. In general, massive black holes take hundreds of millions of years to become super-massive. Iamblichus and his team of engineers devised a plan that would create a singularity in moments. They found a suitable solar system, detonated its star, imbued the resulting supernova with exotic matter and energy, and then proceeded to engineer the resulting black hole with a so-called world tube, or wormhole, the purpose of which was for future traversion by sentient beings and their machines. The wormhole, like the black hole, was created through the use of exotic matter and energy. Equations suggested that the energy consumed by black holes did not coalesce at a single point but rather gushed out on the other end - the so-called white hole. In essence, then, you have a black hole at the point of entry and a white hole at the point of exit.
Furthermore, in the created universe, Iamlichus’ goal was a cosmological constant (that is, a value for the inherent energy within space itself) that had a value permitting only for a static universe; in other words, for a value that ensured that the Universe did not expand forever, other than in its initial super-inflationary stage. This was achieved.”
The sphinx continued. “And so, Mankind in the greatest feat of engineering it had ever undertaken created a habitable universe, a new reality whose purpose was for the re-settlement of the species. This new universe began in a primordial flash, its resulting galaxies becoming burning embers floating on a swelling sea of space. Iamblichus engineered the inflation to occur at an accelerated rate so that second generation solar systems would be ripe for colonization within one thousand years. Think of a universe as a sum of three numbers; the first being gravity, with its warps and curves; the second being the distribution of matter throughout space, or the causes of the warps and curves; and the third being the amount of energy stitched into space time itself. Now, there is an amount of energy stitched into space time itself, just as every cubic meter of water has energy. This was the key calculation. If this number was in harmony with the other two, the Universe would settle into a static state. That was Iamblichus’ goal and this was achieved. Iamblichus genius was in creating a new reality where after a burst of super-inflation, the three numbers matched up evenly so that the Universe neither contracted nor expanded. That is the reality we inhabit.”
However, other problems arose - for instance, the mysterious ability by some sentient beings to access the inherent energies of the void being the most perplexing. Whether by design or not, the created Universe became a place where sentient beings could manipulate, to a certain extent, the energy fields surrounding them. This is what we now call the Power or the Ability. Whether these fields were electromagnetic , gravity or otherwise, certain human beings inherited an ability to manipulate the energy within surrounding fields based on thought alone. I suppose Iamblichus accidently, or purposefully maybe - who really knows - was the first person to make magic real!”
The Sphinx paused and turned its head to try and look at me. “Shall we?” It asked as I glanced at the black hole before us.
I smiled. “Onward.”
And so we accelerated through space and toward the black hole. As we entered the foreboding singularity, I looked behind me and I saw what appeared to be dark circles bitten out of the galaxy, marking the event horizon - the point beyond which nothing could theoretically escape a black hole’s grip. Light from stars directly behind the hole was being swallowed by the horizon, while light from other stars was bent by the black hole’s gravity, forming a warped image around the hole. Surreal. The Sphinx was silent at first but then spoke, apparently feeling the need to describe the phenomenon to me.
“The strangest sight is reserved for one’s last moments,” Bolos began. “Behold and experience it,” the Sphinx said. Suddenly, I felt powerful tidal forces clutching at me and for a moment I thought they were real and that I would be consumed and destroyed but the moment passed.
“Do not worry,” said the Sphinx as if reading my mind. “If you’re falling in feet first, gravity at your head would have been much weaker than at your feet. That would pull a real observer apart, and it would also affect the light falling in around you - light from above your head is stretched out and shifted to the red end of the spectrum. Eventually it gets red-shifted into nothingness, so your whole view will be squeezed into a horizontal ring.” The Sphinx threw its head back, its mane striking my face as it laughed.
We continued moving toward the inner horizon of the black hole. The Sphinx spoke again. “Once we reach the black hole’s inner horizon, you will see an infinitely, energetic flash of light from the outside world. This picture in time will contain the entire history of the birth universe.” The Sphinx paused, making me wonder why he felt the need to inform me of this. My guide continued. “Therefore, so long as the two universes remain connected, there will be always exist a place where the entire history of the birth universe can be seen, even though to those in the birth universe that history has yet to play out.”
I was flabbergasted. My head was spinning so I felt the need to slow my guide down.
“You mean there is a physical spot in the wormhole where a hypothetical observer, assuming he was immune to the powerful tidal forces of the black hole, could see the entire history of the Universe?”
“Yes,” was the Sphinx’s simple response. It waited for a moment and seeing that I had nothing to add, it continued, moving toward the lights ahead of us, and it was then I realized we were emerging from the other end of the black hole. Bolos, my guide, resumed speaking.
“As we near the back end of the black hole, or white hole if you will, you enter a wormhole where the flow of space turns around and you start to accelerate back outward. The white hole is a time reversed version of a black hole. Think about that for a second. Instead of falling inward, space falls outwards at a speed faster than light. This is the entranceway to the created universe. Soon a hypothetical observer will experience another flash of radiation, this time containing a picture of the entire future of the created universe.” The Sphinx paused and we stopped to hover. “If we had long enough, or the technology with the ability to document it, we could at this very moment record the entire future history of the created universe.”
We continued. Now moving through the white hole, I saw a third flash of light as we reached the white hole’s outer horizon. This time, I saw the created universe in front of me, looking no different in its darkness, with tiny points of bright light, as the birth universe we had just left behind. I craned my neck so I was looking behind me, and for a brief second, I thought I saw the white hole from which we had emerged.
“Stop,” I said.
The Sphinx stopped.
“You mentioned earlier the ability to see the entire history of the birth universe as well as the entire history of the created universe. Explain that to me?”
“It is too technical to describe, but suffice to say that there is a discrete point within the wormhole itself that connects the two realities. At that point, a temporal point where particles from both universes are observable, a hypothetical observer could theoretically see both universes’ entire histories. That point is located in the wormhole itself and as the wormhole thins, it will ultimately sever and disappear into nothingness.”
“What do you call such a place?” I was now deeply curious.
I saw mathematical equations pop up in front of me.
“In plain language.”
“Oceanus Ultimatus,” the Sphinx said matter-of-factly.
I was stunned and remained quiet. The Sphinx sensing a moment of respite from my incessant questions, accelerated out of the white hole. We quickly emerged from the cauldron of energy that was the white hole, appearing into the darkness of space, which was completely indistinguishable from the Universe we had just exited. Suddenly, we were speeding through space, sometimes alongside arks while at other times on planets, watching as colonies were established and grew into mature civilizations. We observed internecine conflicts on board the arks, battles on planets and in deep space as Mankind engaged in the worst atrocities against itself; we observed the rise of the Warlords as representative governments collapsed and an interstellar feudal system was established; we observed the departure of two arks from the Core Galaxy, presumably populated by the Laxian species of mankind.
“Why did they leave?” I abruptly asked.
“For a number of reasons but primarily to avoid the internecine conflicts amongst Mankind.”
“Where did they go?”
The Sphinx hesitated, though it would have been imperceptible to most, before continuing. “I am not authorized to respond to that inquiry.”
Now I was curious. “Why not?”
“I am not authorized to respond to that inquiry.”
I was silent, considering why the Sphinx who had thus far been a fountain of information, would not answer my question, but at the same time realizing that there was nothing I could do to force an algorithm to respond. Suddenly, a thought came to me.
“Why do the Laxians look different than the rest of humanity?”
“Genetic engineering.”
“Why were they genetically engineered?”
“Because it was believed this would make them superior.”
“Did it?”
“In some respects yes.”
“Which respects?” I was absolutely fascinated by this conversation and was tremendously enjoying the discussion.
“Laxians are demonstrably more intelligent, on average, than the baseline of ordinary Mankind. Laxians are also demonstrably physically superior to the baseline of ordinary Mankind.”
I frowned, never having heard that Laxians were physically superior to the ordinary man, having only heard the ubiquitous commentary that they were smarter.
Another thought now struck me. “Are there any respects where Laxians are not superior?”
“Yes.”
“In what respects?”
“As a species, they are utterly devoid of any ability in the Power, despite their best attempts to genetically engineer such ability.”
“Why is that?”
“There are a number of answers to that inquiry. First, as a matter of self selection, those with an ability in the Power did not accompany the two arks when they departed the Core Galaxy. Only those individuals with no ability in the Power chose to populate the arks that departed. Second, the Laxians attempts to genetically engineer themselves to possess the ability have failed.”
I nodded. The mention of genetic engineering refreshed my memory of the single most interesting aspect regarding the Laxian species, namely, the mythology that they had succeeded where no one else had in creating an artificial intelligence.
“Have the Laxians succeeded in creating an artificial intelligence?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Where is it?”
“I am not authorized to respond to that inquiry.”
Though disappointed, I knew there was little I could do. “Okay,” I said as the Sphinx began accelerating to the periphery of the Core Galaxy. I saw interstellar warships, not of Mankinds design and manufacture, pouring into the Core Galaxy, overwhelming colonized system after colonized system. It was the First Sanguinis invasions.
“What are the Sanguinis?”
There was a pause, again imperceptible, but I had caught it before the Sphinx answered. “A sentience of the Created Universe.”
“Where do they come from?”
A three dimensional vision appeared before my eyes, which ironically was a picture within a picture if you thought about it, since I was already within the Laxian holographic library grid - the picture was of a planetoid near a singular sun.
“Is that their home world?”
“Yes.”
“Have the Laxians been there?”
“Yes.”
Now, I was fascinated. The Laxians had actually been to the home world of Mankinds most intractable foe yet had lived to see it. How?
Suddenly, my bracer began ringing. I was receiving a message.
“Time to go,” said Bolos. “Your adopted father is summoning you.”
“No!” I said, realizing I still had too many questions.
“Michael, it is time to go.”
The mention of the word father had changed my thinking. “Who is my father?” I blurted out.
The Sphinx looked at me sympathetically, and I realized I was now sitting on the sands where our journey had begun. Though I was not expecting an answer, I received one, the information apparently not classified. “Markus Severian.”
I sighedit was as Sandra Ceres had claimed, I was the son of the Lord of Kether. Another thought came to me. “Who was my mother?”
“I am not authorized to respond to that inquiry.”
That was interesting.
“Why not?”
“I am not authorized to respond to that inquiry.” Bolos looked at me again before continuing. “Your session is ended.”
“No waitwho is Sam?”
The Sphinx this time perceptibly hesitated but a response was nevertheless forthcoming. “Samuel Severian.”
“Who is Elyce, my mother’s sister?” I was now asking questions as rapidly as I could, asking whatever came to mind.
“Elyce Archeus was the spouse of Samuel Severian.” Bolos paused before continuing, “and now, young one, of House Severian, your session is finally ended.”
“No, one more question,” I began and without waiting for an answer, I blurted it out. “Where was I born?” I don’t know what possessed me to ask that particular question or why I even asked it, but the words came out regardless.
“Oceanus Ultimatus,” said the Sphinx, before it disappeared and I found myself seated at one of the stations, ordinary reality having returned. My bracer was ringing. I put it to my mouth.
“Yes.”
Gustav’s voice spoke back to me. “Time to go,” he said. “We are at the departure lounge. Where have you been?”
“Time flies when you are having fun.” I said excitedly.
During the shuttle ride back to Ptolemy, I could think of nothing but the vision I had witnessed, of the journey through the wormhole, of my parentage, of Sam’s identity and the fact he had been married to my mother’s sister, Elyce Archeus. Did that mean my mother was Victoria Archeus? How were they related to this mysterious historian Sandis Archeus? I had so many questions, but most of all, I considered the Sphinx’s last cryptic remarks, the statement that I had been born on the mythological megastructure, a place lost to the space time of our reality, a place called Oceanus Ultimatus.
XII
THE ACADEMY
Over the next couple weeks, my life settled into a routine of work and study. I worked with Gustav most every day, toiling in his fields to earn my keep, assisting in the household chores to ease the family’s burden, all the while finding time to study. After my encounter with the algorithmic librarian aboard the Pliny, my interest in the cosmology of our existence had intensified to a fever pitch, becoming an obsession for me, causing me to realize that I needed to learn math - and not just ordinary math but higher order mathematics which was the true language of the Universe. So I poured over textbooks, rapidly working my way through the calculus, differential equations, differential geometry, lie groups and much more. I inhaled this information in a short time, staying up late and to the point where my eyes grew blurry and my hands shook from all the Bacca I was ingesting. It was exhilarating. Within a few short months, I was up to date with the basics required to understand the language of cosmology.
It was also during this period of time that I first heard of the Legio test, and the startling revelation that Samuel Severian would be present to observe the testing  all at the Academy Bryon was training at. Apparently, Sam had been a guest at the Academy for seventeen years now which, oddly enough, was the same number of years I had supposedly lived on Ptolemy. It made me wonder if there was a connection.
I had been invited to join Bryon at the Academy on numerous occasions, though I had always politely declined, having created in my mind a bias against the institution based on my appraisal of Bryon’s skills, skills that were woefully sloppy and amateurish when I first met him. Regardless, I learned that anyone and everyone was welcome to participate in the testing as it was an opportunity for all comers to showcase their talents. For weeks in advance, I considered whether it was wise to attend the event, especially after what had occurred in Cordillero during the night of the ball, as well as my recent experience with the Cabrasians in the Subway. What also gnawed at me deeply was Sam. Though I now knew his identity to be the Lord of the Legio Gemini, what I did not know was whether he was friend or foe. Of course, my bias against Sam was based on the dream I had experienced where he had killed Jericho, as well as his inexplicable abandonment of me as a youth. I replayed the dream’s events over and over in my mind, convincing myself that it was not real, but somehow that conclusion rang hollow. As the day approached, I finally confronted Bryon.
“I want to go, “I said.
Bryon looked surprised, his forehead crinkling as his eyes widened. “Okay,” he responded. “Everyone is welcome.”
When Gustav heard of my intentions, he only frowned. “I suppose I will lose two sons to the Legio that day.” Later, Gustav would express additional concerns about my safety. Bryon’s mother, whom I had come to absolutely adore, despite her blindness to her son’s faults  and who could blame her for that  was happy that I was attending, though she oftentimes and with great regularity made comments along the lines of whether I was ready to compete with the likes of Bryon and Mark. No matter how many times Bryon corrected her that I was better than anyone he had ever seen, she continued to make such references.
As the day approached, I struggled with whether I should bring the quarterstaff provided to me by Sam, the staff that I had concluded possessed otherworldly characteristics and acted as a Power amplifier. Eventually, I concluded that it would be better not to draw too much attention to myself so I decided to leave the artifact at home.
The entire family, including Brett, attended. The Academy was not far from Gustav’s vertical farm so we all raised ourselves early one morning, had a full breakfast and then walked the two kilometer distance to The Academy. The front of the training studio was extravagant, with huge signs plastered out front, each of which bore the name Marius - that was Mark’s father’s name and he was the lead instructor. Through the enormous front windows, I saw numerous trophies which I found off-putting and gaudy, though it was to be expected, for I assumed Marius was like his son Mark  arrogant and overconfident.
We entered The Academy. The studio training hall was remarkable for its beauty, with elegant architectural lines and a lack of clutter. It was a big space, probably the size of a small auditorium. As we stepped past the gaudy trophies and into the interior of the structure, I immediately encountered the buzz of the crowd as well as the sounds of candidates warming up - the noise was a bouncing jumble of shouts and thuds. I felt a fierce pulse of adrenaline generate within me with the sight of the other candidates stretching and practicing maneuvers. As I surveyed the scene inside The Academy, I noticed a sizable training area in the middle of the auditorium, covered by a soft mat appropriate for grappling. To one side of the mat were lines of chairs, while on the other side, there were mats for kneeling. Already kneeling were numerous young men and women. In the chairs sat their instructors, parents and loved ones, all here for the show. In the middle of the auditorium stood whom I believed was the instructor, a man by the name of Marius. He was speaking to Sam. I felt chills go down my spine when I spied Sam. In the back of the auditorium I noticed, lurking in the shadows, a couple of tall men, men whose faces were familiar to me from Cordillero  they were the soldiers who had accompanied Sam during my youth, men I had never had any interaction with other than to see them silently sitting in the Inn.
My eyes instinctively came back to Sam and he was as I remembered him  dark hair, dark eyes, tall but not as tall as me, and physically strong, though not imposing. He wore a cloak over his shoulders that stretched down to his waist, but his familiar weapon was obvious for all to see, a quarterstaff lodged at his hip. As we entered, Sam did not turn in our direction though Marius did, quickly putting a friendly hand on Sam’s arm, as if to say that he would return shortly, for he had spied Bryon and Gustav.
“Hello Farmer family,” he said happily as he approached. I did not watch him, instead keeping my eyes focused on Sam, a mixture of emotions beginning to overcome me, emotions of anger, sadness and loss all joined together. As I studied Sam, he never turned in my direction, his gaze focused elsewhere.
“And who might this be?” Asked Marius. He was speaking of me. I came out of my stupor and smiled.
“My name is Michael Stadler,” I said as I stretched my hand out.
“Bryon’s mysterious adopted brother?” He said as he shook my hand.
I nodded.
“Well, it is nice of you to finally join us. Will you be testing?”
I smiled again and nodded. “Might as well give it a try.”
Marius chuckled as his arrogant little eyes met mine. “Well, you should have come and trained with us  it would have benefitted your chances,” he paused, “this school consistently passes the most students to the Legio,” he added conceitedly. And with that, he turned and departed.
“Don’t worry about him,” said Bryon as he grabbed my arm. “Let’s go sign in.”
Before I left, Gustav touched me on my shoulder and then leaned over to me. “Be careful, Michael. I do not like this and I stand by my earlier advice that you should not be here.” He did not smile, his lips pursed.
I smiled thinly. “I have no choice; this is my destiny.”
After we signed in, I followed Bryon and made my way to the mats, kneeling down and making myself comfortable. I saw Mark nearby, and he looked at me and grinned arrogantly  his smile reminding me of his father. It was obvious where Mark inherited his obnoxious conceit from his obnoxious father! As my gaze turned toward the center of the auditorium, I saw Sam, and this time he was looking directly at me, his face impassive and unreadable. I met his gaze, my heart beating faster than before, and my body tensing up. I took deep breaths and forced my shoulders to relax as I continued to meet his steely gaze. Finally, he turned to look at something else and I felt a sense of relief, but at the same time a sense of foreboding. I wondered if he had recognized me, contemplating whether he had any idea as to what I looked like after all these years.
Marius stepped into the center of the auditorium. As he did so, I saw Sam move toward the shadows, soon to become a mysterious presence. Marius, who was now facing the audience with his back to the candidates, raised his arms, as if seeking quiet from the crowd. Soon, the buzz of the crowd lowered and silence reigned. Marius began to speak.
“Welcome to the Academy. Today is a special day. Today all comers will have the opportunity to test for admission to one of the most prestigious organizations in the Galaxy.” Marius paused theatrically, before continuing. “Today, the boys and girls behind me will be testing for admittance to the Legio.” He began clapping his hands in a transparent effort to incite the audience to applaud, and applaud they did. With a seriousness that made me chuckle, he then shushed the crowd with his arms, reminding me of a bird fluttering above water.
“And today, as has been tradition for the last seventeen years now, we have some very special guests. We have the significant honor of having Legio I Gemini act as evaluators”
Here, some clarification as to the Legio and the terminology used with respect to that organization is helpful. The Legio is the name given to the military arm of House Severian. It is an organization divided into two main components; the first component being a space based division, better known as the Legio Spatium, and the second component being a ground based division, better known as the Legio Terra. The Legio Gemini are a subset of the Legio Terra and consist of the elite soldiery of House Severian. The Legio Gemini themselves are composed of a very small number of specialized and talented men and women, each of whom possesses an ability in the Power. The Legio Gemini, at their most basic, are composed of six person battle teams, or units, each of which is identified by a designation. For instance, Samual Severian’s unit, as the lead unit of the Legio Gemini, was designated “Legio I Gemini.” If a unit was identified as the ninth unit, it would be identified as “Legio IX Gemini”, and so forth.
Marius paused again, a knowing and arrogant grin now permanently plastered to his plastic face. “And as everyone is already aware, today our boys and girls will have the honor of being judged by no other than Lord Samuel Severian, Lord of the Legio Gemini himself, brother to the Lord of Kether, uncle to the future emperor of Man, Prince Levin Severian.”
Applause filled the auditorium. I crinkled my brows, thoughts of who this half-brother of mine Levin Severian might be like. These thoughts passed as Marius smiled, an all-knowing and irritating smile, as he looked around the room, ” but before we begin, The Academy’s students are honored to conduct a presentation on your behalf.”
Marius slapped his hands together and suddenly ten boys and girls jumped from their pads and sprinted into the middle of the auditorium. Some were as young as 14, the youngest age from which the Legio recruited, while others were as old as 25. I expected that the older candidates had tested before and had failed, but not wanting to give up their dreams, they were back again to try once more. Suddenly, creepy motivational music began playing from unseen speakers, filling the auditorium with noise. I squirmed in my position on my pad, trying to suppress laughter, as I watched the show unfold.
The boom of a great drum somewhere in the dojo called the group to order and the music stopped. The presenters lined up and knelt in formal kneeling postures. As they did so, Marian yelled a command in a language unknown to me, and I saw Mark, Bryon and the others then place their hands in a meditation position before closing their eyes - they were centering themselves I was certain. Moments later, Marius yelled another instruction and the presenters immediately leapt to their feet. Marius then clapped his hands and as he did so, the creepy music started once more as the presenters proceeded to shadow duel each other, feigning strikes and parries. This carried on for an unbearable length of time. As it did, I found myself openly smiling at the show in front of me, the ridiculousness of the event and the exaggeratedness of the moves almost bringing me to tearful laughter. I intentionally tried to avoid eye contact with Bryon for fear of distracting him - I had enough respect for my adopted brother to avoid impacting him in a negative way  but as I avoided eye contact with Bryon, my eyes instead locked with the Legio Gemini soldier who was standing on the edge of the mat, a soldier I would later learn went by the name of Varus Vitia. The face was a familiar face, a face from my youth, from my days at Cordillera, bringing upon me a sense of sadness and loss. I clenched my fists as the adrenaline flowed through my body, my knees shifting their weight from side to side as my emotions began to veer out of control. I took a deep breath and relaxed my shoulders, using the familiar techniques taught me many years ago by both Sam and Jericho.
I studied Varus and in him I observed a true warrior. When you first see a Legio Gemini up close, and as they truly are, it is an intimidating sight. They hold much back, measuring you, judging you, doling out emotions to the outside world in grudging bits, forcing you to struggle for each morsel. Varus was such a man, possessing a bland and unreadable demeanor, ceding no clues as to the true thoughts coursing through his mind. Physically, he was not tall, but his torso reminded me of a tree trunk, all muscle with thick arms, the types of arms that could envelope you and crush the air from your lungs. His head, shaped like a cinder block, sat on his thick body like an artillery shell. As our gazes met, Varus smiled toward me but it was not a pleasant look but instead a vicious and arrogant grin. For some reason, this inflamed me, wiping away the intimidation I had begun to experience, to be replaced instead with a grim determination to knock the smile from his arrogant face.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Sam standing in the shadows and watching the candidates. His dark eyes glittered, but beyond that, they could have been carved in stone. My old protector held himself proudly, as he watched the events unfold before him. He was drinking in his surroundings, familiarizing himself with the participants, and readying himself for the combat to come.
By now, the exhibition was over and the candidates had reseated themselves at their mats. It was time for the testing. Marius rose and said some inconsequential words, words of which I have no recollection of for they were unimportant. Then, he stepped off the mat as two Legio Gemini strode onto it, one being Varus Vitia. Within seconds, the testing had begun. An unseen voice proceeded to announce names, and after the announcement, candidates leapt from their mats and scrambled to a spot in front of one of the two Gemini soldiers. What happened next was initially exhilarating, though soon it became stale. The Gemini soldier and candidate would proceed to engage in a duel, lasting in some cases for up to five minutes and in others for as short as a couple of seconds. Every duel ended with the candidate flat on his back  this was even true for Mark, the instructor’s son. I waited anxiously for my name to be called, but with each candidate summoned, my name was passed over. I looked to my left and to my right. Almost everyone had been announced and I soon realized that my name was the only one not called. That’s when I heard it over the loudspeaker Michael Stadler, not my real name of course but the name I had taken after my displacement from Cordillero.
I stood, stepping forward, stopping at the edge of the mat, not sure whom to approach. It had been obvious to the other candidates as to whom they were to duel when the turnstile of candidates were grinding through, but now, as I was apparently the last candidate, it was not clear.
“Go to Varus,” said Sam’s familiar voice from his shadowy hiding spot.
I glanced in Sam’s direction. Our eyes met and as they did, it was somehow obvious to me that he knew who I was. Anger overwhelmed me, I’m not sure why, and I breathed again, realizing I was on the verge of hyperventilation. Control, control, control, I repeated in my mind.
As I stood in front of Varus Vitia, a true soldier of the Legio Gemini, I felt fear. This was one of the so-called superman of the species of Mankind and I was facing him. Not only that, but he was a member of Sam’s unit, which meant he was of the elite of the Order of the Legio Gemini. Other than Sam himself, the man facing me was the best Mankind could offer. Butterflies floated in my stomach as I positioned myself and that is when I heard laughter.
“Need a weapon boy? said Marius.
There was more laughter from the auditorium. I saw mirth, maybe even mocking, on Varus’ face. This enraged me as I blushed.
Suddenly, a training staff rolled from the shadows edge. It stopped near my feet. I glanced in the direction from where it had come. Sam. This time he smiled, but it was a warm smile that met my gaze, comforting me. I finally breathed out, having been holding my breath for some time. I was now ready as the staff elongated in my hands.
I bowed toward Sam, then toward Marius, and finally toward my real life opponent, Varus Vitia, before positioning myself, assuming a right handed posture as I always did when facing an opponent for the first time. It was then that the thought occurred to me that I was the only show going, and all eyes were on me. So be it. I relished the opportunity.
Now, as I faced a Legio Gemini in combat for the first time, my awareness of time began to slip. I remembered from my lessons with Jericho that the psychic tension of fighting was as big a factor as mere matters of technique. I knew I could exert a type of mental force against my opponent by the sheer strength of my physical blows, but the opponent now facing me had the capability of pushing back. It meant that the pace of the duel would be different: a wary circling, a flurry of attacks, a manipulation of the quarterstaffs, all combined with a plethora of deflections, feints, and feints camouflaged as something else. As the combat finally began, very slowly at first, I felt the psychic pressure grow within me.
Initially, Varus rarely pressed the attack, allowing me to at first drive the action, though his deflections and parries served as attacks in themselves, requiring me to continually modify my positioning. It was artistry in action how he moved me around the mat. I continued to fight cautiously, trying to gain a sense of the man, focusing on my footwork, as well as my position and the crispness of my movements, but realizing immediately that I was losing this duel. It was clear that Varus was good, very good, and that he was by far the greatest dueler I had ever faced. Every now and then, he would come at me with a sudden flurry, trying to knock me back, as if probing my defenses, before settling back into his familiar routine of moving me around the mat. Having observed him fight before (for I had watched both of the Gemini leading up to my turn), I had a sense of their tactics - defense followed by intense counter-attacks, so in a way I had mentally prepared myself for Varus’ approach.
The combat continued, and as it did, it was now becoming clear that I was surviving longer than most, and that slowly and surely, I was turning the tide against my more experienced foe. For many minutes, we fought, the speed of the duel accelerating with every passing second, until the engagement had reached the level of a high speed encounter the likes of which I had never been a participant in before. I now spied beads of sweat on Varus’ brow - weakness I surmised and I concluded that I was wearing him down. With that in mind, I began to press him harder, striking faster and faster, until my movements had become a blur to the naked eye. After a time, you feel as if you inhabit a world where only heat, sweat, and the fury of your movements exist; the rest of the world has fallen away, a total focus on the art and nothing else. By now, I felt I had established a clear advantage, having completely turned the tables on my opponent. Varus was retreating. The auditorium’s inhabitants were transfixed, the deafening silence around me a testament to my imminent victory.
Then something changed. Suddenly, Varus struck at me fiercely, pressing the attack for the first time in some seconds, pushing me backwards. A moment later another strange happening occurred, a lesson really, a lesson I would never forget.
Varus’ next attack didn’t explode at me so much as it flowed in an accelerating continuum, as if time itself had slowed for Varus but not for me - it was a smooth, highly compressed generation of force and intent. My hands rose up slightly to cover the unfolding technique but it was of no import. Varus hit me, but not with his staff; instead striking me with the Power. It was subtle and forceful, catching me completely by surprise. Precisely at the moment I felt this force of energy strike me, I became unbalanced in all respects with my grip on my training staff loosened and my control of my posture destroyed. Varus used this moment to viciously strike at my hands, dislodging the staff, which flew from my grip, before he spun his body completely around in order to generate the momentum necessary for a brutal blow to my gut - akin to the swinging of a bat. The impact threw me backwards with such velocity that I awkwardly landed on the candidates some five meters behind me. I found myself laid out, on top of a number of other testers, and out of breathe from the gut-busting thrust of my opponent. The message was clear - perfection in the duel was the only acceptable result and I had not been perfect.
As I lay prone on the mats, sprawled over the other candidates, I knew immediately what had occurred, and it enraged me. Varus had employed the Power against me. He had cheated. I tried to stand but could only muster getting to a knee, my adrenaline insufficient to power me to my feet. That was when I felt it, the heat around my neck, Jericho’s amulet smoldering against my chest like a horse brand. I closed my eyes for a second as a warmth engulfed me, filling me with energy and replenishing my battered limbs. After I opened my eyes, I thought I could perceive a field of energy around me  akin to what I imagined an electromagnetic field might look like if visualized. Determination overcame my being and I knew what I needed to do.
“One more time,” I croaked, my voice weak.
I heard a murmur from the crowd but no one spoke. “One more time,” I repeated, this time with more force as I raised myself to my feet.
Varus looked toward Sam, who simply nodded. There was a perceptible sound of anticipation from the crowd. They wanted more of the show, yet they were expecting the same result, not realizing how close Varus had come to defeat. But I knew better, and I was ready for Varus’ tricks this time. As I strode back toward my opponent, I instinctively reached for my training staff which had been thrown some ten meters from my landing spot. It leapt from the ground and whisked mid-air into my hands. It took only a moment for the audience to realize what had just occurred and they gasped. I saw Varus glance at Sam again but Sam just waved his hand as if to proceed. I had not meant to reveal my ability in the Power but had done so instinctively, employing it merely as a means of returning the staff into my possession. Regardless, I was now ready for Varus’ tactics. I perceived a shield, if you will, of Power emanating around me, as Jericho’s amulet seemed to draw energy first to itself and then into me. I would not allow him to unbalance me with the Power again.
I bowed to all those around me and then leapt toward Varus, my fury unbounded. There was little reason for any preliminaries as we were old hands by now and knew each others’ techniques and moves. The duel immediately commenced at a high speed, and I pressed him probably like he had never been pressed before, slowly moving him toward a corner of the mat, trying to limit his range of options. As I did so, I felt bursts of air, or maybe it was energy, striking against my shield. I laughed out loud for I knew this tactic would not work this time around. Varus grimaced. As I pushed my opponent backwards, I realized he had become wholly defensive and I sensed opportunity. It was at that precise moment that I switched to my natural and dominant left side, and this utterly flummoxed my opponent. As I came at him left-handed, I directed a gust of energy at him, knocking him off from his previously perfect balance. In an ironic twist, like Varus had before performed upon me, I now did to him when I spun low and struck at his feet. Varus fell backwards, falling on his back. As he did so, I brought my training staff down upon him and was about to deal a vicious blow to his gut when I heard a voice from the corner speak.
“Enough!”
I stopped, the staff poised over my fallen opponent, my hands shaking, adrenaline diffused throughout every part of my body. Somehow, I controlled it and did not strike Varus, but I did not step from my position hovering over him. Instead, I flipped my training staff toward Sam who had emerged from the shadows. I then reached a hand out to Varus who grudgingly grabbed it as I pulled him to his feet. There was dead silence in the auditorium as I walked back to my mat. After I resumed my kneeling position, I heard Sam speak.
“On behalf of the Legio Gemini, I would like to express my gratitude. We will be in touch with those candidates who we believe are worthy of taking the next step.” Sam paused. “And please be aware that even if you are not asked to join us, there are other ways to serve in the Legio - there are always needs for scientists, physicians, educators, space navigators, scholars, and many other worthy professions. We would ask that you consider all such avenues in the service of Mankind. Thank you.”
With that, Sam stepped away, allowing for Marius to speak, but I no longer listened, exhilaration overwhelming me because of the great victory I had just achieved.
XIII
FALSE STARTS
Michael took a sip from his wine, a vice he had engaged in with increasing regularity during these, his later years. It was vice he had not had any use for during his youth. In fact, he had despised liquor as a youth, avoiding it like the plague, but as he had grown older, he had acquired a taste for the mind altering substance. He peered out the window, another habit his audience by now noticed he performed regularly. Michael then suddenly raised himself.
“I need a break before we come to the next part of this tale. Come back after dinner. I’m going to my room.” Without hesitation, Michael strode from the table and departed.
Sofer Kyot glanced at Marith and his son, and smiled, leaning back in his chair while he stretched his back. “This is a fiction of the highest order,” he began as he laughed nervously. “If the story is to be believed, we have in front of us a figure of legend, a man who has been the subject of wives tales, a figure from mythology itself!” He laughed again.
Lord Marith’s son looked at his father but said nothing. Like before, both Marith and his son sat in their seats, backs straight and solid, not hunched over at all, their hands clasped in their laps, the epitome of disciplined soldiery. There was a palatable disappointment in their faces, as if they had desired for the story to continue, but realizing that the man telling it needed a break, they understood. Both stood, without ever having answered the Sofer, or even having looking at him, their disgust at his comments obvious, before silently and quickly departing from the lounge themselves, leaving Kyot to his own devices.
Kyot stretched his arms again, but he did not depart, instead considering the tale he had just heard, a tale of youthful fancy, mysterious characters, and distasteful tragedies. He wondered if the man telling the tale just might be the man he claimed to be; otherwise, why else would the Emperor of Man send Sofer Kyot to take the tale of his life.
Meanwhile, Michael had by now arrived at his room, arriving for the first time that day, for if you recall, he had gone directly to the Inn’s lounge and begun the tale of his life. As he relaxed on a comfortable and soft bed, Michael playfully turned his quarterstaff in his old and gnarly hands, the quarterstaff by now become his eternal companion, the last of the great artifacts from a bygone era, and Michael wondered if ever again there would be one who could wield it other than himself.
It was not too long before he returned to the lounge, a gloom now come upon him, for the retelling of his story always made him sad, returning to him memories of souls long gone, of events long past, and of tragedies long repressed. Michael ate dinner alone and waited for the Sofer and the soldiers to return. Soon they did. Lord Marith Severian and his son bowed to Michael before seating themselves, muttering the words “My Lord” as they did so, and Kyot heard the words and noticed the gestures, wondering if he should do the same, but because he was still skeptical that the man seated in front of him was in fact the figure of legend he claimed to be, he did not.
“Shall we continue?” began Michael, his eyes wet and his throat dry. Without waiting for a response, he continued the story of his life.
It was only a couple of days before I was notified that the Legio had accepted my application, learning also at that time that both Bryon, my adopted brother, and Mark, the instructors son, had also been accepted. It was a joyous occasion and the Academy intended to conduct a celebration in honor of all the successful applicants, whether students from the Academy or otherwise, but since I was not a member of the Academy, I excused myself from attending. I remember the day leading up to the event itself, which was scheduled for the night before our departure, a departure that would supposedly take us off planet, out of the Ptolemy system, and to Kether itself. Leading up to that night, Bryon’s mother played the part of a hen with her head cut off, dealing with the logistics of an after-party for innumerable guests, and addressing the inordinate accommodations that came with an apparently limitless number of extended family. Having informed the Farmer family that I was not one for celebrations, I politely bowed out, indicating that I would probably be spending much of my future life with Bryon anyways. Neither Gustav nor Bryon seemed to care, though Bryon’s mother appeared taken aback, even a bit offended at the thought that I would choose to skip such an event.
I had no other plans so I decided to explore Ptolemy. I had grown up a country boy, in the high mountain village of Cordillero, accustomed to the fresh, open air of the high elevations. To me, Ptolemy had always been a foreign place  dark, mysterious and cold. My impressions from afar were not entirely incorrect for it was a dark city, where the monstrous architectural high rise structures blocked the beaming sunlight from above, casting imposing shadows over the inhabitants below. It was a world where the real and the artificial had been merged, a place of real livable spaces, such as the subterranean Subway, merged with a place of artificiality, such as the massive artificial megastructures above. That was Ptolemy.
I came home late that evening, to find Bryon and the entire family already in bed and asleep. As I readied myself for slumber, I could think of nothing but the events that were to come the next day, a trip from the Spaceport into orbit to a waiting interstellar craft, followed by a two week journey to the center of the Galaxy and Kether itself. Beyond that, I had no idea what to expect but my anticipation provided fertile grounds for my imagination to run wild, conceiving of adventures on faraway worlds, of meeting exotic and intriguing people, and of ultimately becoming a soldier of the Legio Gemini. With energy still to spare, I packed my belongings, gathering the gifts from Sam that I had found at the Cairn years ago, such as the Tumblr, dagger and quarterstaff. Eventually, I tried to sleep, but it was a troublesome task, a task ultimately transformed into a long night filled with twistings and turnings, but eventually sleep I did.
When I woke, Bryon was already up and eating breakfast, plainly as excited as I was to be embarking upon this journey. There was a plate waiting for me, and Gustav beamed as he sat down, looking me directly in the eye.
“So Michael, today you depart Ptolemy for a grand adventure. How does it feel?”
“Great,” I said.
Bryon laughed. “A man of many words.”
“That he is,” said Gustav as he slapped one of his bear-sized paws against my back.
“I suppose you are going to educate us on what to expect?’ I said sarcastically to Gustav.
“Well, I was a soldier once,” and here Gustav paused, as if dreaming of bygone days and forgotten adventures, “once very, very long ago it seems.” He frowned as his focus seemed to return to the present. “It’s not all glamour and excitement, that’s for sure,” said the gruff old man.
“Well, tell us something, dad?” Asked Bryon.
Gustav frowned and shook his head. “No. You will create your own memories. These I will keep to myself, at least for now” he said as he closed his eyes.
I said nothing as we finished breakfast, though I wondered about Gustav’s memories, considering whether I would create memories of my own, or whether my memories would be like Gustav’s, of the kind that a person keeps to himself. The consideration of Gustav’s memories, of his past, a past shrouded in secrecy that he refused to share, or could not share for some reason, troubled me deeply. It made me consider my short life thus far, a life whose experiences were, for the most part, sad and tragic - the death of my mother, the disappearance of Sam, the death of Jericho, and my exile from Cordillero and Emily. I wondered what would come next, and with this wondering, I felt uneasy, as if a singular moment was rapidly approaching. As we departed the vertical farm for the Spaceport, I convinced myself that things would work out, that events could only get better, but this uneasiness remained with me for the entirety of our journey to the Ptolemy Spaceport. The entire Farmer family, including little Brett, came to see Bryon off, and I suppose to see me off too. We reached the Spaceport, where we were to board a shuttle for a waiting interstellar ship above, a ship that would take us from the Ptolemy Star System and to the Planet Kether, the center of the Galaxy. There was a large crowd in the terminal, itself a private terminal owned by the Legio. I saw some familiar faces from the testing but the majority were new faces, and with each visage I studied, I noticed a picture of excitement and anticipation, a look I expected that I possessed too. By now, we were no longer with our families and loved ones, they having been herded elsewhere, presumably to a place where they could enjoy the shuttle’s departure with a clearer view. The recruits, and that’s what I called our group, for I did not know what else to call us, formed a line and we were about to board the shuttle when a soldier, presumably a Legio, asked that I step aside.
“Come with me,” he said.
I frowned, wondering whether something was wrong, or whether this was one of Sam’s deceptions. Nevertheless, I complied, for what else could I do? We walked down a separate passageway, away from the shuttle, before entering a small waiting room. The room had chairs and windows, and from the window I could see the shuttle I had been about to board.
“Please be seated,” the man said. “This will only take a second.”
“What about the shuttle?” I asked nervously.
The man who had led me down the passageway did not even acknowledge my question as he departed, heading back down the hallway we had just traversed. The moment after he left, the door to the passageway shut. Stunned, I remained seated for only a second before anxiety overwhelmed me. I clenched my fists, and stretched my legs, craning my neck to get a better view of the shuttle through the window, deeply nervous that I was being left behind. I could not conceive that result, because I had clearly passed the admission test, or had I? Had I done something wrong? Or was something more sinister at play? For instance, was Sam going to hand me over to the Cabrasians? Had that been his plan all along. Suddenly, panic overcame me as I leapt to my feet, running to the doorway, but it was locked and I could not open it. As I again glanced out the window, my deepest fears were now being realized as the shuttle slowly began backing away from the Spaceport terminal. By now, panic had overcome me and I could not control my emotions. I pressed my hands up against the window, powerless to do anything other than scream if I had wanted to, and scream I did, a brief yell of frustration that I am certain no one heard.
I watched as the shuttle moved from the terminal before accelerating, still on the ground, until it had reached a clearing away from any structures. It stopped, not moving for some time, as if waiting for authorization to depart, maybe a couple of minutes, or even a bit longer. I stood dumbfounded this entire time, my palms pressed firmly against the window, watching with baited breath for what I knew was coming next. Suddenly, the shuttle began to elevate, and as it did, I slammed my hands against the window, repeatedly striking the glass with my fists. I watched as it ascended and then it turned sideways and began to accelerate into the upper atmosphere, the shuttle becoming smaller and smaller in my sight, my anger growing by leaps and bounds with the realization that I had been left behind. I was still staring at the sky when the shuttle suddenly exploded.
My jaw dropped and I pressed my hands harder against the window, if that was even possible, with my forehead coming to rest against the glass as I closed my eyes.
“My God,” I said out loud. “My God,” I repeated as I bounced my forehead against the glass softly, my eyes closed.
Moments later, I opened my eyes and saw two plumes of smoke accelerating downwards and toward the surface of Ptolemy, obviously the remnants of the shuttle. Everyone had to be dead, I thought. Behind me, the door suddenly opened and four men came in, grabbing my lifeless body by the arms, and roughly pulling me from the window. I did not even think to resist, my entire being overcome with shock. I felt a blow to the back of my head and remembered nothing more.
My eyes opened to the view of two setting suns on the horizon; it was dusk. I was laying prone on a rough bed of materials, empty wrappers, cans and garbage  I had apparently been dropped in a trash bin. As I adjusted to being awake, I felt a soreness in the back of my head and that is when it all came back to me. I closed my eyes, not in response to the bright lights on the horizon, but more in response to the flood of memories that were overcoming me. Bryon was dead. Mark was dead. Everyone on the shuttle was dead …but why wasn’t I? Why had I been spared Bryon’s fate I wondered.
I sat up, the smell of garbage all around me … fitting, I thought. I looked around and saw my bag, the red bag from Sam and I reached for it. I opened it and examined its contents - my staff, the dagger, the Tumblr, and the text A Record Of Ancient Matters were all there. I frowned, the mystery only deepening as I rifled through the bag’s contents before I saw it - an envelope. I quickly grabbed the envelope and opened it, finding inside a folded piece of paper. I was again shocked for it was rare for anyone to put pen to paper anymore, but the moment passed as my curiosity and zeal to read the letter’s contents overcame me. I opened the paper and began reading.
.
Dear Michael,
You are officially dead. Trust me, this is to your great benefit, because the forces seeking your demise are indeed powerful. You will soon come to know, if you are not already aware, of the unfortunate deaths of your friends on board the shuttle. This was necessary. I trust you will come to understand this someday but I also expect you will never forgive me. In your bag, you will find enough credits to live comfortably for the next 6 months and you will find a shuttle ticket. The ticket is dated 3 months from today. Why for that length of time, you might ask? To be blunt, it is enough time for you to come to grips with the death of Bryon and the others. As such, I respectfully request your presence on that shuttle, for it will take you to Kether, and will serve as your ticket of admission to the Legio. You have earned that yourself. Your name is now Michael Farmer.
Sam
.
I read the letter a second, a third, and even a fourth, time before I crumpled it in my hands, throwing it into the trash heap that was around me. Quickly, after only a moment’s hesitation, I went back and grabbed the crumpled piece of paper, proceeding to violently tear it to shreds. Questions kept churning through my mind. Who were these enemies? How was Sam involved? And what kind of double game was Sam playing - as friend one day and foe another? He had killed Jericho, at least in my dreams, but on the other hand he had saved my life. But in saving my life, he had killed Bryon, Mark and all the others, doing so in order to make it appear that I was dead? Why? Suddenly, I wondered if he had killed Jericho to protect me, to prevent Jericho from being captured and falling into the hands of these mysterious foes? Who were these mysterious enemies, I kept asking myself - it was a question that kept bubbling to the fore of my consciousness, but the answer that kept coming to me was one word … Cabrasians! As I look back on that moment of my life, it was the moment of my awakening to the great game being played around me. I was beginning to see the contours of the great game  a game of mysterious foes, brutal tactics and unseen motivations  and though I did not yet know the players involved, or the motivations for their actions, or even the reasons for why I had become entangled in their machinations, I was now finally become aware of the game itself. This realization was the first step to affecting the game, and affect it I would. As I lay in the trash bin, staring at the night sky above, I vowed that my presence in the great game would soon be felt, and that vengeance for the misdeeds committed against myself and my loved ones would someday be rendered.
I cannot say for how long I sat in the garbage dumpster, but by the time I departed it, the bright dusk evening had been replaced by a star-studded night sky. I overcame my inertia and grabbed my bag, slinging it over my shoulder before aimlessly walking the streets of Ptolemy, my entire being a flaming ball of misery, depression and anger. The night felt eerily similar to my last night in Cordillero, the night of the dance with Emily when the Cabrasian soldiers had come for me. I soon found myself walking near Gustav’s vertical farm and I considered for a second whether I should speak with him, revealing to my adopted father that I still lived. No, I eventually concluded, realizing that to do so would be the epitome of selfishness, for I would be doing so more for my own emotional needs than for Gustav’s benefit. This was the beginning of maturity for me, for I knew that Gustav must be beside himself with grief. At that moment, there could be nothing worse for him than to learn that I had been spared my life at the expense of his natural born son’s existence! I suddenly realized I was toxic, a cancer to all those around me, and it would be best for me to forevermore avoid all contact with those I loved. I nevertheless hesitated as I thought of Brett. Little Brett  how I wished to see him, the little brother I had never had, the little brother who had taken to me like no one else, the little brother who had idolized me. It was when I was thinking of Brett, and everything he represented  family, love and innocence  that I started to cry. I tried to stop myself from crying, embarrassment overcoming me. Men did not cry, I had been told, but my eyes were wet and my throat was dry. I could not help myself.
My steps took me past the vertical farms and eventually I found myself at the lakeside where I had first found Bryon and his girlfriend. This made me think of Cordillero for this was where I had first emerged from my subterranean travels, and suddenly all I wanted to do was go home and see Emily. I wanted to visit the Cuesta River and raft down its rushing rapids to Lake Cuesta; I wanted to enter the labyrinth caves and explore them more fully with Emily; and above all, I just wanted to see her again. Why not, I told myself. I was dead and no one was looking for me. My decision was impulsively made, though in hindsight it was not illogical, because I had a new identity, I had money, and most importantly, I had time before I had to decide whether I was going to take the shuttle to Kether and join the Legio.
It did not take long for me to reach Cordillero. By the time I did, I had grown a full beard and had purchased new clothes, giving me the look of a young gentleman. I recall the feelings of elation and anticipation I encountered as my transport came over the top of the Combre Pass, revealing before me the beauty of the Cuesta Valley, a veritable mountain paradise, from the soft blossoms of the apricot trees to the dark snowcapped rock monuments of the Cuesta Mountains. In the valley below me, I saw the familiar contours of the Cuesta River babbling away down its center, with the valley’s rugged cliffs standing silently on both sides of a single roadway running adjacent to the river, paved but old and in need of repair. This was the roadway my transport was taking; a roadway that snaked down toward a lush valley of tall pines, reflective ponds, huge groves of aspens and a scattering of homesteads, doing so via a sharp canyon that offered stunning views on both sides.
My transport came to a halt in front of the familiar Village Inn. Along with some other travelers, probably business folk, we entered the Inn, the innkeeper being the same man who had occupied that position when I had last been in town. I looked him directly in the eye, wondering if he would recognize me. He did not, busying himself with the task of checking me into his Inn. I paid the innkeeper, a bit disappointed that I had not been recognized, though relieved at the same time. Soon, I was settled in my room, relaxing and surfing the byways of the GKN. All the local news was about the shuttle disaster, with interviews from locals and supposed eyewitnesses. I tried to avoid refreshers on that event as much as possible, taking heart in the other significant news that was being reported  the visiting Cabrasian soldiers had announced their departure and their deployment was ending. To me, this was more than coincidental.
Over the next couple of weeks, I rented horses, went on hikes and strolled through town, trying to summon the courage to go and see Emily. I considered in my mind how it should be done - whether I should reveal myself to her and her family, or whether I should approach her more discretely. This dilemma tortured me for days before I finally decided that I would come to her discretely. I learned she worked at a local farmer’s market and I confirmed her schedule before one day approaching her from behind as she walked alone.
“Hello there,” I said awkwardly.
Emily did not turn, obviously thinking that I was speaking to someone else.
“Hello there.” I repeated before adding her name. “Emily?”
She stopped in her tracks, making me wonder if she recognized my voice or if she was merely afraid at having a stranger address her from behind. Emily turned to face me, revealing a pretty little face with the familiar lake-blue eyes. She paused for an excruciating long time before speaking. “Michael?”
I smiled. “Yes.”
She frowned. It was not the reaction I had been expecting. A long silence ensued but I felt comfort in the fact that she did not turn and run, but on the other hand, her lack of emotion was disconcerting and deflating. I felt the need to fill the silence.
“How are you?”
“I am fine,” she responded quickly.
“How have you been?”
This time Emily chuckled. “I am fine,” she repeated.
I was flummoxed at the awkwardness of the conversation. “Well, look at you,” I began weirdly. “You have not changed a bit.”
This time Emily laughed. “Well, you have changed. You are getting quite bigger! You have a beard and you are dressed well. Where have you been?”
“Hmmm. Lots of questions. Ummm, I’m fine. I have been living in Ptolemy. How about you?”
“I have always lived here - you know that.”
I chuckled. “So, how is school?” I continued, the conversation awkward at best.
“I quite enjoy school. I’ve always enjoyed it. I’ve lots of friends there, as you know.”
“Nice to hear that,” I said. “I have not gone to school since I left - I have been homeschooled for the most part,” I added.
Emily looked at me for a long second. “Gotta go,” she blurted, “my father is waiting for me. Good to see you.”
She turned to walk away. Panic overcame me. “Wait!”
Emily stopped but said nothing.
“If I came again tomorrow, could we talk some more?”
She peered at me, without smiling, before nodding. “That would be fine.”
Over the next couple of days, I approached Emily at the same time each day, and we conversed over a cup of Bacca. I have to confess that my reunion with her was not as I had expected. I had somehow envisioned Emily and I immediately becoming like we were before, close and intimate, but that was not the case. It was as if a distance had come between us, an emotional separation that had not been there before. We spoke of nothing in particular at first, with each of us taking turns revealing what had happened to the other over the last couple of years. Of course, I did not reveal to her the tale of my encounter with the Cabrasians on the night of the dance or in the Subway, and I did not reveal the nature of my involvement in the shuttle disaster. Emily eventually came to prod me as to why I had departed Cordillero.
I answered her as best as I could, still feeling the need to keep some things from her, which I am certain she could discern. It just didn’t feel right to tell her the whole story of what I had learned about my past, Sam and the reasons for my sudden flight from Cordillero. I gave her a thumbnail fairy tale of what had happened, telling her at the end that Jericho had passed away and I came to live with another family, who eventually took me in.
“My name is now Michael Farmer,” I concluded, immediately regretting that I revealed to her my new identity. I wondered if I was making a mistake in telling her such a deep secret.
She nodded. Over time, the closeness returned and we spent more and more time together. Our encounters progressed beyond mere discussions about our past and soon we were taking hikes, riding horses and exploring the beauties of the Cuesta Valley  like we had done during my teenage years. Eventually, we reignited the budding physical relationship that had commenced years before. As the time before I had to depart for the shuttle approached, assuming I chose to board the shuttle and join the Legio, we spent progressively more intimate moments together, moments that to this day I recall vividly. I remember telling Emily that I was going to stay and never leave her side, that I would marry her and we could live together to the end of our days, but she would have none of it, for by then I had also revealed to her that I had been accepted to the Legio and that my departure date was approaching. How I sometimes wish that I had followed through on those youthful proclamations. Emily, of course, being the selfless being she was, insisted that I go and make my way in the world, that I make Cordillero proud, insisting only that I stay in contact with her. She revealed to me that these last few weeks would reverbrate for eternity and would never be forgotten, so special were they to her. I remember crying again at the moment of our separation before I finally departed, hugging her long and hard, promising that I would never forget her and that I would always love her. I always have.
XIV
FIRST TRAINING
On this day, the moment of my departure from Ptolemy, my name was Michael Farmer. Before that, I had been called Michael Stadler and before that even, my name had been Michael Gershon. None of those names represented my true identity, an identity that would not be revealed to the world for many years.
I only briefly considered my past as the transport slowly ascended from the surface of Planet Ptolemy, a world I would not visit again for some time, but visit it again I would under much different circumstances. As I stared out the window, desperately trying to get a last glimpse of my home world, I wondered if my fate would be similar to Mark and Bryon’s and I whether my next breath would be my last, but that was not to be my fate this day as the shuttle safely ascended into the upper atmosphere. I looked out of the windows of my transport, spying the mighty high rises of Ptolemy, slowly becoming tiny specks to my puny eyes, and I saw the vertical farms on the outskirts of the great city, one of which had been my home for a span of years. As we rose higher into the atmosphere, I strained to see if I could catch a glimpse of the Cuesta Valley and Cordillero, but if I did see my home, I could not tell. Instead, I saw the lush rolling hills to the east of Ptolemy which slowly graduated to foothills and eventually to the high mountains themselves, and it was somewhere in those mountains where I had spent my earliest days. Soon, I could see no more and the sky darkened, eventually to be replaced by the blackness of space, but space was not all dark, containing innumerable points of light, some bigger than others - I saw the light from the red dwarf that occupied one extreme end of the Ptolemy solar system as well as the light emanating from the yellow orb nearest Ptolemy, the system’s primary star, a star which acted as the source of energy for Ptolemy’s inhabitants. As I gazed through the window, I could also now see that we were approaching a massive space structure, which I knew to be one of the twelve orbiting shipyards that encircled the planet. Each shipyard possessed enough firepower to annihilate the most advanced of space armadas, acting as the last line of defense for Ptolemy in case of attack. Though sitting ducks to mobile fleets, the shipyards  as they were inappropriately called  were shielded by Ion Rings, or in more common parlance I-Rings. These were powerful shields that could deflect the onslaught of most, if not all, of the known weaponry in the Galaxy. The shipyards would make any invasion of Ptolemy a hazardous affair.
But these shipyards were only a temporary layover for me, and though I marveled at the engineering that must have been required for their construction, I had little time to really study them. Soon, I was being transferred to an interstellar vessel that was supposed to take me to the training grounds of the Legio - I was supposedly going to Kether, the center of the Universe and the capital of the Connected Worlds.
The shuttle docked with the orbiting shipyard, and like cattle, we were moved from the shuttle onto the shipyard and then onto another vessel, an interstellar starship. It did not take long for the starship to depart and soon we were racing away from Planet Ptolemy, accelerating rapidly to one-tenth the speed of light, heading toward one of the two jump points in the system. Thirty solar hours later, we had reached the jump point at the outer edge of the system, and it was then that I truly felt the enormity of the moment, for we leaving the solar system of my youth, a significant event for most humans who would never in their lifetimes venture from their world of origin. Thoughts of whether I had actually been born on Ptolemy re-entered my mind, remembrances of overheard conversations between Emily’s parents, little hints by Charley, but especially the words of the algorithmic librarian echoed through my head. I felt tears running down my cheeks and I turned away from anyone who might see me, for I was embarrassed. I thought of my mother then, and it hit me how much I missed her; I thought of Sam, and I wondered what had become of him; I thought of Jericho, despite the short time I had spent with him, and I realized that it had been a time of joy and learning. My recollections of Jericho brought a brimming anger at those who had caused his death, at the Cabrasians that for whatever reason had sent the death squads after me. Then, I considered better memories, recollections of my friendships with Emily, of my times with Charley  poor Charley, forever anchored to Ptolemy, though desiring much more. I recalled my times in Ptolemy with Gustav and Bryon, the years spent working in the vertical farm, only to all end in tragedy with the apparent murder of my adopted brother by Sam; but always, my thoughts came back to Emily, memories of our days as youths vividly recalled, with the remembrance of our most recent romance still lingering. I came out of my reverie as the loudspeaker announced Phase Shift in five minutes.
We were about to enter the deepness of space, leaving what I had been taught was the foundation of civilization. Without the powerhouse of a star to provide raw energy to its family of planets, moons, comets, asteroids, and planetesimals, there could no interstellar society. Civilization had expanded throughout the universe, making barren space bloom with new life, but I was leaving that, entering the unknown vastness between systems, where the frontier is endless and the resources are limitless. We were given one last warning of the Phase Shift and told to seat ourselves, but technology had come so far that the change from normal space to phase space, also called hyperspace, was imperceptible. Over the next couple of weeks, there was a lot of waiting, there was a lot of doing nothing, a lot of playing cards and chess  an ancient game taught to me by another recruit  of looking at computer screens, and most of all, a lot of surfing the GKN. I came to know some of the other recruits, men and women whom I concluded would wash out, and whose names are unimportant as they play no part in this tale. All told, it took one month at our slow pace to journey from Ptolemy to Kether. As we entered Ketherian space, I could feel the excitement growing within the ranks, for we were approaching the center of the Universe, and we were finally coming to the Celestial City.
From the second we came out of phase space to the moment we docked with one of Kether’s orbiting shipyards, I studied and read about the planet we were rapidly approaching. Kether is the ancestral home of House Severian, having also become, after the conclusion of the Highborn Wars, the undisputed political center of Mankind.
Kether is one of the great garden worlds of the Empire of Man, and by far the richest of the known biospheres of its type. As one approaches from the periphery of the system, Kether presents as a brilliant green-white ball, a luminescent sphere shining within a backdrop of blackness. Naturally evolved garden worlds were rare, most such planets having been engineered by Mankind to some degree or another. But Kether was different, and though engineered, it had for the most part developed organically and on its own. It was originally a planet possessing an oceanic cover approaching seventy percent of its surface mass, a world with a low topography in its terrestrial regions, consisting of continents that were in reality little more than chains of islands and swamp-covered expanses. Kether’s climate had tended towards the more tropical, with heavy vegetation found covering nearly all the land areas, but this had changed over time. The original warm climate, fostered by a nearly unrestricted flow of weather patterns, had kept the planetary poles from freezing in the winter. Though there were many worlds like Kether in the Galaxy  most of which being the arch typical jungle planets  Kether had long since passed that phase. Extreme tectonic movements as well as a healthy dose of terraforming had changed its global climate more towards the moderate end, converting areas originally of jungle to large swathes of highland forests.
The great city of Kether, a city I would not visit on this particular journey, was located near the equator of the planet. Virtual reality tours I had experienced had revealed to me the most magnificent city in the known Universe. I saw a skyline featuring not one but two beanstalks, literally within fifty kilometers of each other. The legendary Restaurant at the Top of the World was located on what has become known as the Highborn Beanstalk, connected at its base to the Palace of the Highborn Lords, supposedly reserved for dignitaries, politicians and the elite of Ketherian society. The other beanstalk, known as the Commercial Beanstalk, was used for transporting goods and peoples to the Orbitals above, acting as one of the most visited tourist attractions in the known Universe.
The city contained thousands upon thousands of square kilometers of residential area, more commonly called “boroughs”, each of which was served by its own community centers, shopping complexes and entertainment multiplexes, with each borough having its own regional administrative governments called Shires. These were all linked by fast and efficient bullet trains, which also provided access to other establishments on the planet, routes heading in all directions from Kether like the tentacles of an octopus. In addition to the two beanstalks, the skyline also featured a number of twenty kilometer tall buildings, better known as Starscrapers. Some were mainly focused on commercial business, others for political administration of the Empire of Man, while a third group acted as the housing for the elites of society.
The great city contained areas that had specifically been set aside for various industries, including food production (mostly in the guise of vertical farms), manufacturing, and service industries. Set as islands of green within and between the industrial areas lay an extensive system of parks, lakes and rivers, as well as a single, small freshwater sea, called the Metropolis Ocean. The Metropolis Ocean was considered a wonder of the Galaxy, stocked with marine life from around the Galaxy and even including underwater structures and biomes, along its bottom, connected to the above-surface habitations by underwater train and submarine ferries. The city of Kether easily housed and fed fifty billion human beings, humanity in all of its varied stripes, from the famously evolved Laxians to the other mutated versions of mankind, each with their own special abilities and idiosyncrasies. Kether sat on what had originally been the largest island on the planet, since surpassed by others as the climate had moderated and increased the planet’s land mass. It was a city that completely encompassed the original island, resembling an octopus if seen from above with the myriad of bullet train routes departing the island akin to an octopus’ limbs.
In addition, the city of Kether was where the current emperor of Mankind, Leander Cabrasas, resided. Leander Cabrasas, a man only a couple years older than me, heir to the throne of House Cabrasas, had been emperor for fifteen years, since the age of six, and though his term had yet to expire, discussions were said to be underway to replace him with a Severian. I had always been fascinated by Leander Cabrasas as rumor had swirled some years before that he was a Highborn Lord reborn, able to wield one of the famous quarterstaffs of antiquity, but I had also heard the other stories, the rumors of his lust for power, of his incredible cruelty and of his unnatural perversions. Many viewed him as mad. In fact, many viewed House Cabrasas with disgust, as a monstrosity on par with the alien Sanguinis. House Cabrasas, I would learn later, in an effort to preserve the ancient bloodlines of the Highborn, had stunted the fortunes of its progeny. It was a tale of interbreeding and genetic manipulation, of relations between siblings, and of even worse perversions, all leading the descendants of House Cabrasas, more often than not, to be birthed as monsters, deformed and stunted; but they were not deformed and stunted in physical appearance only, for in many, the mental deformities took precedence resulting in insanity, cruelty and perversion. But there was one aspect of House Cabrasas that intrigued me most, that being Leander’s twin sister, the Princess Sophie Cabrasas, viewed by many as the most beautiful women in the Galaxy, an elegant creature, stunning in every respect, already considered one of the most famous figures in the Galaxy. But I digress…
Once docked with one of the planet’s numerous orbital shipyards, we the recruits were herded once again into a small compartment and then were put on elevators. It was at that point that I realized we would not be using a shuttle to travel to the surface of the planet, but that we would descend on space elevators attached to a beanstalk. This particular beanstalk, however, was not one of the two servicing the City of Kether. This disappointed me for I had always dreamed of seeing the famous city but this was not to be on this journey.
As we descended the beanstalk, I considered what I had learned of them. They were structures composed of strong cables (usually some semi-elastic diamondoid) lowered from a geosynchronous satellite and anchored to the ground, often with a counterweight at the outer end to provide some extra tension and stability. The beanstalks provided cheap and simple access to space using elevators. Most of the highly developed worlds of Man have a series of beanstalks connecting the surface of a planet with orbitals. Although the effect from a beanstalk breaking and whiplashing around a planet would be quite serious, this had only rarely happened. As we continued to descend, I considered the backwardness of Ptolemy in that it did not have a beanstalk, emphasizing to me that Ptolemy was truly a backwater world.
By now, we had reached the surface of the planet and the first part of our journey was concluded. It was not long before we were directed from the elevator and were soon outside, in the open air atmosphere of Kether, no longer cooped up in an artificial spaceship or structure. We had come to a place called Vale Severian, the initial training grounds and headquarters for the Order of the Legio. I expected some sort of vehicle would come get us, but instead we were led to walk from the base of the beanstalk across the Vale. We gradually ascended for half a kilometer, through dense wood, reminding me somewhat of Ptolemy and the Cuesta Valley, before finding ourselves at the top of a considerable hill, where the wood ceased, and my eye was instantly caught by Severian House, situated on the opposite side of a Vale, into which the road with some abruptness wound. It was a large, beautiful, stone building, standing well on rising ground, and backed by a ridge of high woody hills; and in front, a stream ran of swelled and rushing blue waters. Its banks were neither formal, nor falsely adorned. I felt invigorated by the scene in front of me, never having imagined that Kether would house such natural beauty.
To my dismay, we were now led away from the massive stone estate, and toward another portion of the valley. As those around me made nervous conversation, I tried to look around for any signs of life other than our small contingent, but I saw none. We continued walking and then I saw a large brick building, red and out of place, as if it had been transported from another time, or even from another epoch, as it was so out of context for what I imagined the center of the Universe to look like. The next thing I recall is standing on what we learned later was the Drill Pad, a concrete floor spotted with massive columns holding up a large brick wing of the building. I was standing there, with my arms behind my back and my one bag at my side facing double doors which led into what appeared to be an office. From time to time a stern looking man would emerge from the office and slowly open the door, and move across in front of us. His battle dress uniform made it clear he was a soldier of the Legio, and I imagined he was a soldier of the elite Legio Gemini by the insignia on his right breast. He wore a bland black cap that was pulled down tightly near his nose, and he was stocky and looked every bit the part of a drill instructor, though I noticed that I was almost a full meter taller than he. To this day, I refer to him as the Drill Instructor as I never learned his name and he never volunteered it. In fact, I noticed, and ironically only for the first time though I had spent weeks now with the other recruits, that I was by far the tallest of any man or woman on the Drill Pad. I focused again on the Drill Instructor, and saw that he wore the most-pressed, well-put-on uniform I can remember seeing in all my life. His boots were so shiny I could see flashes as if rapid-fire pictures were being taken when he walked. But to say he walked would be incorrect; he never walked; rather, he strode.
After lining up to receive our linens, we were sent upstairs to our cots, a room shared by both the female and male recruits. There were separate bathrooms for the sexes but it was obvious that we would all be sleeping together. I wanted to go to the bathroom but I was too scared to do anything to bring attention to myself. I didn’t even know if I was allowed to speak with anyone or not, so I said nothing. I examined the others and saw fear in their features and I empathized with them, for I felt it too. Some of the other recruits tried to look brave, and some succeeded in manufacturing that illusion, but others looked plain scared, with some men on the verge of tears it seemed. Most of us were somewhere in between, I suppose.
The next few days were filled with jostling from location to location. Sometimes we’d walk, other times we’d run, while some occasions we’d board ‘cow transports’  large gray metal boxes with double doors on one side, and tiny windows across the top, hooked to a semi-tractor  for rides to various locations within the Vale. I wondered why such old fashioned technology was used but as the days passed, this wonder went away and all my attention focused on staying alert and keeping my eyes open, for sleep had by now become a commodity like gold or silver. One morning we took the ‘cow transports’ to another ordinary and non-descript, yet out of place, red brick building. This was the central issue facility where we were given our uniforms - white shirts and pants, with black boots, a cap, and a canteen for water, nothing more nothing less. We were instructed to carry the canteen with us at all times. I remember clearly another day where the ‘cow transports’ took us to a medical station - this happened almost immediately upon our arrival. I was pushed into a room and before I could react or do anything, “PSSPOW!”, I had been shot with a needle. This happened a number of times over the remainder of the day as we presumably were being inoculated against various diseases and nano-viruses. Sometimes blood work was taken and I am sure I was tested but I never learned of the results. All I could say was that the shots hurt like hell yet there was never any consideration given by those implementing them for our well-being. In short, I was prodded, poked, photographed, weighed, injected and examined until I was bewildered. The next couple of days were likewise jammed with tests; intelligence, reflexes, reaction time and sensory response. Some tests required me to do one, two, three and sometimes even four things at once. I found the tests to be easy and was certain I passed them.
No matter where we travelled for our tests or tasks, we always saw in the distance, at the top of a rolling hill, the great Severian House. It loomed over us like a Colossus, its presence visible at all times, the mystery of its purposes feeding conspiracy theories, but its reality more than evident to our senses. At night, when I dreamed, I dreamt of entering the great building, of walking down its corridors, of labyrinthine passageways where the wrong turn would lose one forever, and then I would find myself in the Great Library onboard Relay One. These dreams were absurd but recurring.
I remember one of the first days of the first week I was in Vale Severian. It was the day after our uniform issue, and we were taken to yet another small red brick building, the third one I had become aware of, in a grass lot. It was hot, with even higher humidity and we had just completed a long run and we were all exhausted. I felt sweat beading down my brows as I stood there in formation, lined up and trying to look like a soldier of the Legio, yet it was difficult under the circumstances. The Drill Instructor, maybe sensing our weakness, ordered us to a garden hose connected to a pipe buried in the ground. We were instructed to fill our canteens with hose water. When we’d completed his task he said, “Now…DRIIIIIIIINK WAAAAAAAAATER!!!!!!!!!!” We consumed the first of our canteens immediately, rubber and plastic flavored water never having tasted so good. “NOW! WHAN YOO ER DONE FILL ER UP AGAAAIIIN AND THEN HOLD THA CAN’T EEN UPSIDE DAWN OVAH YORE HEDS!!” When that was done, he instructed us to fill our canteens a third time. “DRIIIIIINK!” The third Canteen didn’t go down so easily, and despite feeling water logged, I made it through. Upon the laborious completion of two quarts of water, we were told to go back to our cots and rest. The words had never sounded so wonderful.
As my first two weeks came to a close, with little to show for it other than repeated physical exertion and very little sleep, I met with Dr. Ramelais. It was obvious to me from the get-go that Dr. Ramelais was a psychiatrist of some sort. He looked the part, with a well-kept beard and piercing brown eyes. We sat in a well-lit room, he on a chair directly across from mine. The doctor then proceeded to ask me some quite personal questions. Knowing this, I tried to answer as honestly as possible.
“Please explain to me why you want to be a member of the Legio Gemini?” He asked bluntly.
This was a dangerous question, I knew.
“Since I was a small boy, I have always dreamed of being a Gemini.”
Dr. Ramelais looked at me for a long moment. “But why?”
I stammered, not sure how to answer. Do I tell him I was motivated by Sam, that I had at one time worshiped the ground the man stood on, but now was not sure whether he was a friend or foe? Did I tell him I had seen, in a vision, the ultimate sacrifice by my adopted father Jericho when he had been struck down by of all people Sam, thereby saving my life? Did I tell him that I sought revenge against whomever had come to try and kill me? I did not think I could reveal these events without making myself appear insane which would probably eliminate me from membership in the Legio. I finally spoke, my words carefully chosen and calibrated.
“I have wanted to go out into space since I was a child and I have admired the role the Legio Gemini have played in humanity’s history.”
Dr. Ramelais actually looked up from his notepad, the first time he looked at me. Our eyes met and I sensed that he was taking the measure of me. Something about my last answer had alerted him, had made him actually take the time to glance up from his notepad and consider the cadet in front of him. He did not smile.
“I believe you are telling me the truth, but I also believe,” and now he paused, “that you are not telling me everything that motivates you.”
How correct, I thought, but I said nothing.
Dr. Ramelais actually smiled. “The Legio Gemini or SEHLAT as we call it  Space Environment Hazardous Landing Assault Teams  are a long, hard grind.” He paused as if allowing me to ask a question or comment if I so chose. I said nothing so he continued, but his question actually took me by surprise. “Do you believe in divine providence?”
I stammered again, “uh, do I believe in divine providence?” I repeated, using the -worn stalling technique of repeating a question to allow time to come up with an answer.
“Quick,” said Dr. Ramelais quietly but firmly, “I need an answer now. No thinking, no crafting of responses - I need your true thoughts on the matter.”
“I’m not sure,” I said quickly, but honestly.
“Why are you not sure? Certainly, you have been educated in the theological arguments for the existence of a creator outside of time - the so-called Cosmological Argument; the argument from first cause, of non-contingent being as the first mover? And certainly, such a first mover must be good; for he created the mechanisms that created us all, right?”
“Well, I have heard the arguments but I am uncertain as to their persuasiveness.”
“Continue.”
“I am convinced of the existence of a first mover but I am uncertain as to whether such first mover is wholly good, wholly bad … or even cares about us, and… ” here I paused at the uncomfortableness of what I was about to say, “if the Universe as we see it was actually created by Mankind itself, then our entire existence is, in many ways, phony and contrived - we are living in a bubble of our own creation, a hell of our own making, populated by creatures that want to annihilate us, creatures but for our own arrogance would never have existed if not for our hubris. Who is to say that the entirety of existence is not analogous?” I paused, Sam’s words coming back to me. “Ye that shall be like Gods.”
Dr. Ramelais continued looking at me, no longer taking notes, before finally speaking. “Most would say that the history you just recounted is a myth,” and here he paused before resuming, “and you will learn more about that soon enough.” He then suddenly changed topics. “Your aptitude tests are off the charts, but there is no evidence as to where you came from and who you are. The son of a farmer from Ptolemy? We usually have some genealogy to examine, but not with you.” He laughed. He had to know my history was a lie but that is what my papers said and there was no denying the papers. “Who are you really, if you even know?” He asked as he leaned toward me.
I frowned, considering the question, a question that I had been posing to myself my entire life. I did not know that there was any answer other than the one I gave him. “My name is Michael Farmer.”
He sighed. “Okay, we are done here.”
Later that day, I learned that I was being transferred off planet immediately, and that I had been accepted into the Legio Gemini Academy for SEHLAT training. I was to begin training with the most elite military force known to Man.
I was on an interstellar ship that very evening, with a number of others who had apparently also been accepted to the Gemini, others who apparently had been tested elsewhere for I had never seen any of them before, each of us herded into a common room for the first stage of our journey, heading for a destination unknown to any of us. As the ship approached phase shift, a tall, physically fit and attractive woman sat down next to me and engaged me in conversation. She smiled as she reached out her hand in greeting.
“My name is Gabrielus.”
“My name is Michael.”
“Where are you from?” she asked as her hair brushed against my shoulder. I found this to be strangely alluring.
“Ptolemy.”
Her features showed blankness. “Where is that?”
I smiled. “Nowhere I suppose.” We both laughed this time. “What about you?”
“Nowhere,” she said, mimicking me.
As we continued to speak, she would put her hand on my shoulder, brush up against my side and sometimes even put a seductive hand on my thigh. It was an effective technique as I found myself drawn into her world, almost losing myself in her light green eyes, eyes accentuated by light green makeup surrounding them. She was attractive and I was attracted to her.
“Do you know where we are going?” I stammered.
She shook her head, but then proceeded to try and answer me anyways. “The secret training facilities of the Legio Gemini, Roland, wherever that is.”
“Roland-here we come,” I said.
It took us a couple of days to reach Roland, a red dwarf dominated system with only one habitable planet. As we approached, I could see we were entering a highly militarized star system, with hundreds of cruisers, battleships, and other military space vehicles moving about. There was one habitable planet, Roland, but to say it was livable would be charitable at best. It was a planet with a permanent day and night side resulting probably from Roland becoming tidally locked to its star early in its existence. Despite the fact that it was tidally locked to its red dwarf star, a biosphere had developed in the zone between the hot day-side and the cold night side that permitted for life  the slow rotation of Roland as it orbits its sun being enough to maintain a circulation in the atmosphere from west to east, creating a biosphere. In addition, due to the distribution of wavelengths in the sunlight from the red dwarf sun, Roland’s vegetation was dark, almost to the point of blackness; however, when an artificial white light was applied to the vegetation, it took on the look of a green tint for many of the plant-like species. The main life form, the Thirp, was a giant six legged, warm-blooded, and vicious carnivore possessing amazing speed and dexterity. Unfortunately for these creatures, big game Thirp hunting had become one of the favorite sports of the military elite on Roland.
But I am jumping ahead in the telling of this tale, for there would be no Thirp hunting for some years still. Our ship cruised toward Roland, slowing as it approached a planet ringed with orbital shipyards and an armada of warships. By now, Gabrielus had attached herself to my side, obviously having taken a liking to me, but I also had come to see that she was quite jealous and hot tempered, for whenever she caught me speaking with another women, or even looking at another women, the features on her face contorted into something strange, something akin to jealousy and rage. I nevertheless would come to know her well, and despite feelings of guilt and shame when memories of Emily returned, I would soon share many intimacies with Gabrielus.
We boarded a shuttle and were soon being whisked to the surface of the planet, with the other recruits on board. There were no beanstalks attached to Roland, apparently the economics of such a megastructure making no sense for a purely military establishment. I also remember meeting another man during the trip from Kether to Roland, almost as tall as me, a physical specimen for sure, by the name of Lucas. He was a dark skinned man whom we would ultimately tag with the nickname Granite, because he avoided push-ups and other strength training for fear of getting too big! Gabrielus, myself and Lucas (or Granite) would become inseparable over the next years of our training.
Unlike Kether, our drill instructor this time had a name, Saleri. Saleri was not a large man height wise, but he was a muscled man. I recall to this day the first words out of his mouth when we all landed.
“You are all Legio and some of you may become members of the Legio Gemini, but let me say this to you, there is much to accomplish, but accomplish it you might. Remember that man is a wonderful creature, but he must be trained and developed to be useful. A great work can be accomplished by every man if he can be awakened to do his very best, but the greatest man would not accomplish much if they lacked concentration and effort. It is a matter of choice whether we permit our diviner self to control us or whether we will be controlled by the brute inside of us. No man has to do anything he does not want to do. He is therefore the director of his life, if he wills it so.
“The candidate who reaches the top is the gritty, plucky, hard worker and never the timid, uncertain, slow worker. Let me say one more thing - there is really only one way to accomplish something, and that is to go ahead and do it.
“In the coming years, I will be your lead instructor. There will be others. I am not here to torture you or to embarrass you. You are adults, albeit it, young adults. I expect that you will do what is necessary and there will be no need for disciplinary action. I expect you to police yourselves and to self-motivate. You are training to join the most elite military organization in the history of Mankind. But remember that the Legio Gemini are not only a military organization but in some respects something more. You will not only be a soldier but also a diplomat. You are the ambassadors, the peacemakers, and the representatives of House Severian to the other civilizations in the Galaxy. You are also the soldiers tasked with the honor and privilege of defending Mankind against the Sanguinis. In short, only part of your education will be in the arts of space warfare and ground combat, while an equally important aspect of your education will be in the improvement of your soul and the perfection of you as a man or woman loyal to your creator.”
Over the next couple of years, I became close friends with numerous individuals. There was Gabrielus, the alluring brunette I already described, her parents killed during a Sanguinis invasion, a women large in size and fearless in spirit. She was a possessive and temperamental soul, possessive of me when it came to my interactions with other woman and temperamental when it came to everything else she engaged in. I was not in love with her but I enjoyed her company, and frankly I enjoyed what she did for me. She was meticulous in spoiling me as well as in making me comfortable, and in exchange all she asked was my loyalty. Though thoughts of Emily returned whenever I was with Gabrielus, as the distance of time between my last encounter with Emily grew, my emotional bonds to her lessened.
There was also Lucas, Lucas Larionus, the man we called Granite. He possessed the largest chest I had ever seen on a man, making one wonder if he took implants or some other form of artificial enhancements. Though we all badgered him incessantly about his physique, he swore on his dead parents’ grave (parents supposedly killed or captured during a Sanguinis invasion) that he was one hundred percent real and natural.
There was Phoebe, a smallish red head, who would become very close with Granite, also an orphan, and who was one of the brightest and smartest of our small coterie. She reveled in discussing philosophy and theology, always asking the tough questions for either side of any argument. She taught me the stratagems of chess and we became fierce competitors. We called her the Philosopher It was interesting, when I look back on this small group, how each of us was an orphan, separated from our parents at early ages; though it was only me whose parents were not somehow affected by the alien Sanguinis like the others, or so I thought. Later in life, I would learn that the best and most effective recruits to the Gemini had always been, and would always be, those individuals whose families had been impacted by the alien Sanguinis.
But there was one more of our group, a young aristocrat by the name of William. William of Clan Red. He was known as William of Red. William was born of a family of high repute with ties to Kether, a family with political connections to the very top of House Severian itself. The Reds, as we called them, were a fiercely independent society, ruling over thirteen star systems, a swath of space adjacent to Ketherian dominated space. The Reds were the closest of allies with the Severians, and had been loyal to Kether since time immemorial. William, the son of King Wilhelm of Red, had never endured suffering or pain of any kind, but for whatever personal reasons, reasons I would never truly comprehend, he had enlisted in the Legio Gemini, ultimately qualifying for Gemini training. This was always interesting to me since the traditional career path of the elite and privileged was the Legio Spatium, the space faring branch of the military arm of House Severian. This was safer and resulted in longer lives. Of all our group, William of Red was the most foreign to us, but we accepted him like a brother and he became one of us.
Over the years of our training, William, myself, Gabrielus, Granite and Phoebe became inseparable. We spent our waking hours together. During that span of time, we underwent training in a variety of areas, including theology, history, mathematics, quantum computer operations, piloting, planetary survival (for different types of worlds), marksmanship, demolitions/explosives, unarmed combat, primitive weaponry (knife fighting), zero-G combat, advanced orbital skydiving, battlefield weaponry/armor, battlefield tactics, field medicine, and of course quarterstaff training - with more on that later.
The training was intense, not only physically but mentally, for the Gemini believed the mental aspect was just as important as the physical aspect. Both worked together and if not in coordination, there would be tragic consequences. In fact, we experienced our first casualties 6 months after the commencement of our arrival on Roland during an advanced orbital skydiving drill. A little background is important here to understand how it happened. The standard methodology for establishing a presence on a planet was for the Gemini to jump from a passing cruiser, dive through the atmosphere and land in force at or near certain pre-determined targets. Gemini’s were usually sent in to either fortify existing positions in danger of overrun or achieve supremacy over enemy controlled facilities. The problem was getting through orbital defenses and landing on the surface of a planet, megastructure, orbital habitat or asteroid.
To do this, and immediately prior to the commencement of the mission, each Gemini is placed in what we call a Pod, which in reality is a self-contained system with its own quantum computer, life-support, communications, trajectory control and propulsion systems. A Pod is basically the size of a funeral casket. As such, Gemini had come to calling these Pods Coffins. Prior to entering the Pod, the soldier is fully equipped and armored, protected not only by the Pod’s life-contained system but also by secondary redundancies, such as a nano-shield in the event of a Pod’s compromise, as well as third, fourth and fifth layer redundancies such as regenerating ablative armor protecting the soldier’s entire person, an ablative armored smart helmet, and a wrist bracer.
Now, we had been performing jumps from passing cruisers to the surface of Roland for some time by the date of this training mission. What made this jump different was the nature of our landing. Saleri warned us explicitly, and on more than one occasion, that a jamming technology would be employed against the Pods during entry into the atmosphere, and that we should expect the autopilot to lose control.
“This means,” emphasized Saleri, “that you need to eject and land the old fashioned way!” Saleri repeated himself over and over, finally emphasizing why this was important.
“If you do not eject, you WIIIIIILL die!” This brought shivers down my spine. “I am only telling you now because this is training and I don’t want you to die today!” He bellowed. “Maybe tomorrow.” Now his features became serious. “In real combat, you will have no warning of a Coffin’s failure, but this is practice.”
Over the coming months, we would repeat this drill over and over, for the Sanguinis had apparently begun employing jamming tactics in their more recent encounters, causing unprepared soldiers’ Pods to crash into the sides of mountains, into lakes, and so forth. That was not the death I wished. Now, though we had been forewarned, I knew it would still be difficult to implement the countermeasure, because in the heat of the moment, as one is entering the atmosphere and beginning the long fall toward a target’s surface while moving at maximum velocity, clear thinking would not be at a premium.
I remember the day well, each of us already lodged in our Pods, the Eye activated to give us a sense of the tactical situation outside the ship. Normally, the Eye (which is an all-seeing technology within the Pod itself), would be giving us real-time updates as to the unfolding space engagement outside the ship. This day, however, there was no combat. There was no space fleet to be engaged. It was a drill, but a dangerous drill. There was only our cruiser, circling back towards Roland at roughly one tenth of the speed of light. To put this in layman’s terms, the faster a vessel moves in relation to the speed of light, the larger the distortions that exist in understanding what is happening. At one tenth of the speed of light, it was still possible for a commander to figure out what was occurring around him with some accuracy. Most Gemini jumps would occur while a ship was traveling well in excess of one tenth of the speed of light and closer to two tenths of the speed of light. The reason for this was to make it more difficult for enemy cruisers to intercept Legio starships and their offloaded crews.
As we approached, I stood in my Pod (for you can only stand), the Eye providing real time reports. The loudspeaker roared and messaged that we were roughly 6 minutes from drop. Over the course of my career in the Gemini, I would gradually stop thinking of kilometers and distances when considering space travel; instead, I would think of distances in terms of time, whether it be seconds, hecta seconds, or otherwise. For instance, we were light seconds from Roland, though the typical entry into a system would put a vessel light hours from the closest planetoid.
The clock ticked, and finally, we were on countdown from ten seconds. Events then unfolded too rapidly to recount, as the Pods ejected from the cruiser, hundreds of us, making a bee line for the atmosphere of the planet, moving at close to gravitational maximum velocity, the only reason our innyards not having fallen apart being the anti-gravitational technology within the Pods. I enjoyed the beauty of deep space, the vastness around me, the silence other than my breathing, watching as the other little specs constituting my compatriots approached the atmosphere in tandem.
“Status?” I asked.
“Atmospheric breach in five, four, three, two …” relayed the quantum computer. And suddenly we were striking the atmosphere and the vastness of space slowly transformed from a black darkness to a shady gray. Silence as I descended at maximum velocity, hurtling toward the rocky surface of the planet beneath me. It was some time before I noticed that the Pod was not responding to my questions. I had been mesmerized by my surroundings, staring at the horizon like a tourist, not realizing that my Pod had failed. I froze, fear overwhelming me, as the Pod continued its descent at maximum velocity. Later, I would realize that the trainers had been kind by applying the jamming technology so early on during the jump, because this provided enough time for us to react. Nevertheless, I had frozen. I wondered how I would have reacted if this had happened in real time combat. I shivered at the thought. As the surface approached, I reached for the pull handle. BOOM. The Pod opened. I was thrust at a pre-determined angle of ascent into mid-air, and my chute deployed moments later. This all occurred in less than four seconds. And yes, we used ancient chutes made of a material called Fibercloth - it was the old fashioned way of landing but it was jam proof. As I floated toward the surface, it occurred to me that I had pulled the plug too soon and should have waited longer. In a real combat situation, I would be a sitting duck to projectile weaponry, even with my armor protecting me, as I slowly descended to the surface. I vowed to wait until I was closer to the ground next time.
As I approached the surface of Roland, I watched as a number of Pods slammed into the ground, some into the sides of mountains and others into densely forested areas. PHOOFF! I wondered if everyone had ejected like me. I peered sideways to the horizon looking for other Gemini being lowered by chutes and saw a great many, but there was no way to tell if everyone had ejected. However, as I was to learn, some of my compatriots had not been so lucky. Four recruits had died upon impact, never having ejected. Not one of the casualties were amongst my small coterie of companions, though William had apparently come the closest, waiting to eject until the very last moment. Whether this was by conscious design or because he froze, I could not say. I still remember talking to him afterwards and seeing the glazed look, eyes shocked by what had occurred and what could have been. He had been deeply shaken by the drill.
As time passed, this drill was repeated over and over, and we learned to time our ejections when closest to the surface of a planetoid, knowing full well that by doing so it prevented enemies from picking us off as we slowly meandered to the surface. We suffered more casualties, some of the dead being acquaintances and others folks I had gotten to know pretty well. Each death shook me, but at the same time it prepared me, preparing me for what was to come and what I was to experience as a soldier of the Legio Gemini.
XV.
THE GREAT THIRP HUNT
What was Thirp hunting? It was a sport that was deemed to be one of the most dangerous and deadly in the Galaxy. Yet, as I would learn over the subsequent years, it was a rite of passage amongst the Gemini, and though not required, any soldier who failed to join in a hunt was shamed. Thirps were carnivorous and rapacious creatures that patrolled the purple colored rain forests of Roland, and they were the undisputed kings of the jungle. Thirps were six legged predators with a top speed of thirty kilometers per hour, carnivores with a taste for flesh of all kinds (including human), their teeth more akin to sharp knives than anything else. Though Thirps used all six legs when running, they were capable of standing upright to a height of three and one half meters when on their hind legs, creating a terrifying impression for anyone or anything facing them.
The hunting of a Thirp usually required the use of that most Human of companions, the horse. In this way, we the soldiers of the Gemini would learn how to ride horses while at the same time fire with our rifles. The weapons used for the hunt were what we called Power Rifles, a form of kinetic weapon that employed magnetic charges in order to accelerate a projectile. The projectiles were simple, small caliber (usually 2 to 4 millimeter) high density solid ferrous slugs that were accelerated to hypersonic velocity. The variants used for Thirp hunting allowed for a high rate of fire (up to one hundred per second),as compared to the six hundred per second for the battle variant Power Rifles issued to the soldiery. To take down a Thirp, every last one of your slugs might be required, though the preferred method of killing a Thirp was via quarterstaff to its soft neck region. Suffice to say, the benefit of Thirp hunting was to teach us Gemini how to fire while moving at high speeds.
So, what is a Thirp? And what makes Thirp hunting so interesting? The Thirp is a crafty creature, it won’t always show itself, hiding in the shadows, observing, examining, studying. It might wait until you’re not paying attention and then suddenly, whoosh, it will charge from nowhere. Think of a weird looking horse and just as fast as the best bred steeds. Its head is frightening, resembling that of a full grown lion, with sharp and menacing teeth. The Thirp is also blessed with scales, made of a hard leather like substance, almost mettalic, like those of the mythical dragons from Mankind’s past. It’s also worthy of note that a Thirp’s scales have the ability to resist most physical attacks; these scales covering most of the creatures body, though they tend to soften and be smaller at the breast/chest and right below the jaw where the neck and head connect. In fact, the neck is the most vulnerable spot, where a small area, just large enough for a knife or the sharp end of a quarterstaff to enter, is not covered by the scales, leaving the Thirp vulnerable. Another characteristic that made the Thirp fascinating was its color, dark blue, the product of the strange world it had been born from.
So, again, I ask you what is Thirp hunting? Well, to put it simply, it was the most dangerous sport in the Galaxy. Armed only with a Power Rifle and a quarterstaff, the hunters venture out on horseback into the deep purple forests of Roland. Sometimes, the hunters would wander for days in fruitless search for a Thirp, eventually having to return to base camp, empty handed and frustrated. Other times, within hours of the hunters’ departure, a Thirp is found, or more appropriately, a Thirp finds the hunters, causing severe harm and sometimes even death.
I still remember our trainer Saleri’s words. “You will find the most vicious animal there is in the dense jungles of Roland. And you will fight it to the death. The qualities necessary in Thirp hunting are the same that make a soldier fearlessness, stamina and not backing down from your adversary, no matter how big and vicious it is.”
On this particular hunt went myself, Granite, William and a man named Samir. Samir would ultimately become a member of our unit and this was our first exposure to him. A motley crew of novices in the art of the Thirp hunt, for sure. We geared ourselves and our steeds in one layer of ablative armor before departing from the safety of base camp and entering the dense purple forests of Roland. The air was wet and damp, bringing a sweat to my body. We rode in silence, the tension just as thick as the humid air of the jungle around us. Soon, we reached a clearing in the jungle. We stopped at the edge of the clearing, and I was in the lead, my Power Rifle resting on my right arm, ready for firing if necessary.
Suddenly, I saw a swarm of rodentlike animals appear from nowhere. These creatures were about the size of quail and appeared extremely curious. They fearlessly skittered up to our horses and proceeded to encircle us, scurrying to and fro, vying for a better look while chittering incessantly. They remained quite close, annoyingly so, and I could tell that it made my companions deeply uncomfortable, although the creatures would not allow anyone to touch them, scampering just out of reach with each attempt. Once encountered, and even when we attempted to disperse the animals, they would not willingly leave us alone. Suddenly, I heard a deep howl and the creatures dispersed in all directions. Before we could react, like a missile, a Thirp exploded from the depths of the jungle, striking William and throwing him from his horse. I saw the creatures’ sharp claws come down and rip through William’s ablative armor, leaving a deep gash, blood spurting out.
With William down, his shoulder bleeding from the gash created by the Thirp, I reacted, leaping off my horse and running toward the Thirp. I saw the mammoth creature, a monster really, position itself for another strike at William, a death blow I surmised. My staff was out, already elongated. I jumped through the air toward the creature, the sharp end of my quarterstaff poised to strike at the beast. My aim was true as the point of my staff plunged into the neck of the Thirp. The beast howled as it reared its lion-like head back. While this occurred, I tried to retain my grip on the quarterstaff but could not, it slipping from my grasp. I reached my hand for the staff, the power drawing it from the wounded creatures neck, it seamlessly gliding through the air and back into my waiting hands. The Thirp bounded away, severely wounded.
I saw Granite and Samir pass by me, their steeds accelerating toward a full gallop in pursuit of our prey, Power Rifle slugs already striking the creatures scales, some eventually penetrating. I watched, fascinated, as the Thirp slowed and then fell to the ground, finally dead.
I stepped over to William, grabbing a loose rag from his pack, placing it over his wound, trying to stem the bleeding. I could see that he was rapidly losing blood. I tried as best as I could to stop the bleeding, but time was running out. I lifted my injured comrade onto my horse and then mounted myself, sitting behind William. Soon, and without waiting for my companions, we were rushing through the dense jungles of Roland, back to base, in a frantic effort to get help. As it turned out, we made it just in time. William was saved. And, of course, we had killed a Thirp. Though I would not get credit for the kill  Granite and Samir would  it was obvious to all that my actions had set the stage for the Thirp’s demise.
I remember speaking to William some days later, as he lay in the infirmary.
“You saved my life Farmer,” he said, the color having returned to his face by now.
I didn’t say anything.
“I won’t forget it, friend,” he said. I suppose having as an ally the future king of Clan Red wasn’t such a bad thing. And little did I know at the time, but it was a promise that I would make him keep.
I finally spoke. “I’m certain you would have done the same for me.”
William peered at me for a long moment, before finally responding. “I hope so,” he finally said. “I hope so.”
XVI.
HOW TO KILL A FRANK AND OTHER RUMINATIONS
We sat in the auditorium, each of us on our knees, listening intently to Saleri. Today’s discussion was about quarterstaff combat, a discussion we had all anticipated since the first day we had set foot on Roland. To me, however, the most interesting aspect of today’s lecture was Saleri’s description of the super soldiery of the Sanguinis, the universally feared Franks.
“Be assured that the quarterstaff is the most effective form of offensive weapon, even in this age of high technology, in the known Universe,” said Saleri. “Shielding technologies, including bracer and ablative armor, have effectively neutralized the effectiveness of projectile weapons in ground operations, especially against elite soldiers such as the Gemini.” He then frowned, the frown a foreshadowing of what he was to say next. “Likewise, these shielding technologies have rendered projectile weapons useless against the Sanguinis, and especially ineffective as to the most fearsome amongst the Sanguinis’ ranks, the dreaded Franks.”
I had wanted to ask about the Franks before, for I had heard so much about them, but I bit my tongue, knowing that today was finally the day where we would discuss and learn about these fearsome creatures. I would not be disappointed on that count.
“Because of these technologies, and in order to engage and ultimately defeat our enemies, we were brought back to the way things were epochs ago  soldier versus soldier, close quarter combat, a battle of strength, tactics and will,” said Saleri.
Our initial training in the quarterstaff had been almost identical to the training first provided to me by Sam when I was a child. Repetition of simple movements, cuts and parries, each movement meant to be formed over and over. We engaged in no sparring during these our first days as we were being taught the building blocks of dueling. Eventually, however, we graduated to training staffs and then to one-on-one combat, though Saleri made it clear that the ultimate goal was to learn how to duel multiple foes at once, emphasizing more emphatically that beyond that, the penultimate goal was the ability to engage and defeat the Franks themselves.
“You are of the Gemini and it is expected that you will be prepared to single-handedly duel three Sanguinis at once.” He said. “The Franks, however, are a different matter and we will talk about that more later, but suffice to say, Gemini doctrine proscribes three Gemini to defeat a single Frank.” This was a shocking statement - three Gemini to defeat a single Frank! What were these beasts? I would learn soon enough.
“What are the Sanguinis?” asked Saleri rhetorically.
Not expecting an answer, he continued. “Some say the Sanguinis are an alien species native to the created Universe; others say that they are artificial intelligences created in some wild experiment gone wrong; while others claim that they are genetically manipulated humans!”
The room was quiet for this was the lesson we had all anticipated, the lesson discussing Mankind’s tormenter, the alien Sanguinis.
Saleri continued. “Why do the Sanguinis not raze planets? Why do they insist on conquest and occupation? If the goal was to exterminate Mankind, wouldn’t simply razing a planet, megastructure, asteroid, or other form of human habitation suffice? Have you ever wondered why they risk their own to capture and occupy human habitations? This is not widely disseminated or discussed. It’s one of those things no one talks about, that no one wants to think about because it is so unpleasant. Once a planet is taken by the Sanguinis, it is as if it forever disappears from human knowledge and no longer exists - the planet has fallen behind the so-called red curtain. And over time, Mankind’s possessions - the star systems controlled by humanity  have slowly receded until a wide swath of what we used to control now lies behind this red curtain. At the height of our glory, our civilization extended into three galaxies, but now, we are the rulers of one, with Sanguinis gains on the spiral arms of this, our Core Galaxy, continuing to this day.” He paused.
“There were rollbacks during the days of the Highborn Lords, when the Sanguinis were actually pushed from the Core Galaxy, and this resulted in an uneasy peace being established. You see, the Sanguinis feared the Highborn Lords most of all, considering them as Gods, Gods protecting over a weak and defenseless humanity. The Sanguinis still fear the Highborn, but the Highborn are gone, myths only to the masses of humanity, unless you believe the propaganda promulgated by the Cabrasians that Leander Cabrasas is such a being.” The contempt that oozed from his tongue as he mentioned the name of the Prince of House Cabrasas was palatable, with spittle flying from his mouth.
“Suffice to say, the Sanguinis fear no man any longer, feeling that Mankind’s energy is spent, that our better days are behind us, and that it is only a matter of time before we fall before their onslaught. To them, it is the end of history and they have won.”
The mood in the room was somber.
“But what are the Sanguinis?” He once more asked. “To confront an enemy, you must know them. Have you ever asked why no one has ever seen a female Sanguinis? In all encounters, we have only seen male Sanguinis. Why is that? Well, I will tell you. It is because there are no female Sanguinis. There never have been. These monsters keep our women like cattle, to breed them, to have them reproduce little humans, little humans who are then transformed into monsters!” Saleri was angry and disgusted as he spoke, the most distraught I had ever seen him since our training first commenced with him. “And monsters they are. They cannot breed themselves so they use human women to procreate human children who are then genetically modified into blood-thirsty creatures. They are us yet they are unlike us in every moral respect. They take our planets to satisfy their insatiable lust for Mankind’s blood. Without us, they could not exist.” He closed his eyes.
“They were created by Mankind. They are the result of the Laxians’ desire to create an artificial intelligence, an experiment gone horribly wrong. It is this great crime committed by the Laxian species of Mankind that has created these monsters who hunt us, threaten us and feed off of us. To the Sanguinis, we are cattle, fit to be slaughtered or enslaved, whatever suits their mood that day. They respected the great Highborn Lords, who they revered and feared, but the rest of us, we are a lower species, scum, to be herded like sheep. These are your enemies; these are the mortal enemies of Mankind; these are the foes you will be trained to defeat.
“And what of the Franks? What are these creatures? Well, Franks are Frankensteins for short, named after a mythical monster from Mankind’s past. The Franks are the super soldiers of the Sanguinis. It is said that they are captured and genetically modified Gemini, or genetically modified humans possessing highborn blood. The truth of the matter is that they are both. What we know about Frank hierarchy shows them to be similar to us. Much like the great houses controlling our civilizations, the Sanguinis are ruled by six polemarch’s. These six polemarch’s, or rulers, head the six power centers amongst Sanguinis civilization. Typically, a Frank Lord will lead the Sanguinis into battle. They do not watch from afar. The names of the six polemarchs are as follows: Lord Yeqon, Lord Asbel, Lord Gadereel, Lord Pinemere, Lord Kasadye, and the most powerful of them all, Lord Sammael.”
My ears perked up at the mention of Sammael, for I recalled from my study of the histories that Sammael had been one of the nine Schoen. Of course, I blurted my question out.
“Sammael is a derivation from Samil, correct?”
Saleri, by now used to my questions, chuckled. “That is correct. Some theorize that the Frank Lord Sammael is the very same Lord Samil from House Ariel defeated by Lords Keter and Sandalphon. Some claim that after his debilitating defeat where it is said his right hand was severed by Lord Keter, he fled into the Beyond with a small coterie of loyalists where he made a deal with the devil, so to speak, giving up his humanity in exchange for immortality and an opportunity to avenge himself against his enemies. The evidence supporting this assertion is thin, other than prior to Samil’s fall, the histories make no mention of a Frank lord with the name Sammael. However, there are no reports of any communications or contacts with this Frank Lord Sammael so we cannot say for sure.” Saleri shrugged his shoulders, but the very thought of a Highborn Lord turned into a Frank monster gave me the shivers.
“Who are the others? Do we know?” I prodded.
I was surprised that Saleri did not cut me off. Rather, he continued to answer my questions as if they were expected and in fact encouraged. “We think so. They are each fallen Highborn who turned to the Franks during the wars, apparently feeling that humanity’s cause was hopeless. Some theorize that they wanted to rule; that they wanted immortality. Better to rule in Hell than to serve in Heaven!” Saleri said, quoting from an ancient poet. “But who really knows,” he added, waiting to see if there were more questions before continuing.
“The bottom line is that the Franks are the greatest threat to Mankind, for there has not existed a human since the days of the Highborn who has defeated a Frank Lord in one-on-one combat!”
That day, the day when I was introduced into the nature of the Sanguinis and especially the Franks, was one of the most eye-opening days of my life. I recall the horror and revulsion I felt at the idea of the Sanguinis farming Mankind, a disgust at the thought that some Highborn had willingly joined their cause, allowing their souls to forever be darkened to advance some insane impulses within them; and I suppose that was the point of the speech, to create in us a rage at these awful creatures. Though I felt rage, I also felt sympathy, for I knew that our enemies were us, dopplegangers created from scientific tinkering gone wrong, carbon copies whose only goal in life was to farm Mankind. How would I react when facing one of these genetically engineered zombies? The living dead, so to speak! I would find out soon enough.
It was not much after his speech about the Sanguinis and the Franks that Saleri passed the group on to Pouncey for advanced quarterstaff training. Pouncey was one of his subordinates, a man with a chip on his shoulder, a man who claimed he’d seen combat, and who spoke of these combat experiences in shrouded terms, as if always recollecting a horrid and awful past. He was also a man who took a clear dislike to me - probably because of my overt confidence which he viewed as arrogance. We were informed that Pouncey was some sort of expert in the art of quarterstaff dueling, though we could not know this for sure since he never chose to engage his students, never once entering the ring of combat to prove his worth. We respected him because we were told to, but beyond that, I viewed him as a petty and phony little man, a washout unable to master the art who was now relegated to training recruits.
During our training with Pouncey, a training that had come to involve more advanced techniques, including the methodology to be used in combat against multiple foes simultaneously, it soon became obvious that I was the best quarterstaff practitioner amongst the recruits. By the end of my second year, I could easily dispense of at least two recruits at once, prevailing even when some of the more talented duelers such Gabrielus and Granite were paired together. This was very frustrating to the others, but for some strange reason, it was maddening to Pouncey.
I recall to this day the scene of Pouncey’s meltdown. I was dueling with the recruits from my class, and Pouncey, for whatever reason, was not taking well to my success, most likely irritated by my supposed arrogance. He called for his assistant, a Gemini soldier already, to fight me, and I dispatched him handily. I looked at the instructor and arrogantly asked if he wished to send more than one against me? He smirked, the anger evident on his features,
“And how may many more than one do you suppose?”
“No more than six,” I responded snottily.
Pouncey frowned, spittle seeming to come out of his nose as he pointed to six recruits seated on the ground, one after the other in staccato order, before beckoning them with a dismissive wave onto the training mat. There was a murmur from the recruits in the auditorium as this was certainly the most lopsided duel anyone had yet undertaken. At that precise moment, I saw three soldiers, including a woman, step through a doorway on the other end of the auditorium, and I thought I recognized them as they slowly made their way toward the mat. This only distracted me for a moment as the six recruits had by now encircled me. I was defeated if I remained surrounded so I prepared myself, training staff in hand, the power emanating around me as a shield (for we were permitted to use the power so long as we did not maim our opponents) and I smiled, waving them toward me with my hands, knowing that I had to strike quickly if I were to survive the encounter.
With the speed only a Gemini could muster, they came at me. I reacted just as swiftly, throwing two recruits violently off the mat with a strong burst of the Power, before quickly spinning to defend against the attacks coming my way. By now, I knew the strengths and weaknesses of each of my compatriots, most of whom were friends yet rivals at the same time. I purposefully struck at the two weakest first, taking them out of the combat almost immediately in order to increase my odds. The remaining four came at me swiftly, but not in a coordinated manner, getting in each other’s way. Though we were learning how to coordinate attacks, it was still a work in progress. The attackers coming at me approached wildly and haphazardly, allowing to me the opening I needed. As we dueled, I kept my arms and elbows bent and close to my body, doing this to maintain my ability to thrust and parry effectively, engaging my opponents where necessary and appropriate. It did not take long to dispatch the entire group of recruits as I slowly picked off one at a time until it became a simple matter of dispatching the last of my opponents. I was amazed at how far I had come since my early days with Sam and Jericho, from grueling duels with Gustav, and now to the training on Roland. I was formidable and knew it - I felt like the King of the World, my confidence soaring.
As I stood in the middle of the mat, sweat streaming from my brow, chest heaving as I attempted to regain my breath, the wreckage of my opponents strewn out in front of me, I could now see clearly who had entered the auditorium. I saw Lord Samuel Severian, followed by Varus Vitia. Next to them was a full bodied and athletic looking woman whom I would later learn was named Briana. They were all standing next to Pouncey, who spoke, the anger still evident by his tone.
“Recruits. Today, we have the honor of having the Lord of the Gemini present, Lord Samuel Severian, as well as some of his companions.” He lowered his head in a mini-bow toward Sam.
My eyes met Sam’s. I felt the old rage returning, rage at everything that had ever happened to me, rage at the death of my mother, at the death of Jericho, at the deaths of Bryon and Mark, at the sorrows I had endured, and I placed all the blame squarely on him at that moment. He met my gaze seriously, and I wondered if he knew what I felt, but then he smiled warmly before addressing the group.
“Your training is going well,” he began. “Today, we will provide a lesson on engaging a Frank.” He looked directly at me. “Recruit, what is your name?”
I said nothing, anger still consuming me, preventing me from responding, but Pouncey spoke. “Recruit! Your name!”
“Michael Farmer,” I said defiantly.
Sam peered at me, the welcoming smile returning.
“Well, Mr. Farmer. Can you play the part of a Frank,” he said as he, Varus and Briana stepped forward onto the mat.
I couldn’t believe my luck. I was going to have a chance to duel Sam Severian, but this was not going to be easy. I had already begun running the permutations in my mind of how I wanted this combat to go. In every scenario, it was necessary that I first dispatch of Varus and Briana so I could be left with Sam. I was certain I could do this, my confidence at apocalyptic heights. I nodded in Sam’s direction, still not having spoke.
“Very good,” said Sam. He turned toward the recruits, addressing them as he removed his cloak. I saw Briana and Varus were doing the same. “It is standard doctrine amongst the Gemini that three are required to kill a Frank. The Frank is fast, very fast, in fact faster than any one of you. They are so fast that you will barely have the ability to parry their strikes. In a one-on-one combat, they would overwhelm you within seconds, overwhelming even the greatest of us. You would die.” Sam did not look at me as he spoke these last words, his gaze focused on the recruits kneeling on the mat around us. “Therefore, the strategy is to engage the Frank with two Gemini, to occupy it, while a third kills the creature.”
He turned toward me. “You must always have a plan. It must be agreed beforehand which two will occupy the Frank and who will strike the death blow.” Now, he smiled toward me as Briana and Varus had begun to encircle me. I was ready, assuming a posture of defense, already having calculated that my first strike would be at Varus, for I knew him from my previous encounters. Sam continued. “In this case, I will give Recruit Farmer the advantage of knowing that I will strike the death blow.” The crowd laughed and for some reason this enraged me. “Lords Varus and Briana will occupy the Frank … er… Recruit Farmer,” said Sam sarcastically. The crowd roared again and this inflamed me further.
As they approached, time seemed to slow, but it did not just slow for me, slowing also for my three opponents, three of the greatest duelers in the Galaxy I would later learn. I tried to lunge for Varus in order to take him out of the calculus early, but Briana was upon me first, her speed mesmerizing, forcing me to parry her strike. As I did so, and almost simultaneously, Varus darted toward me, faster than I recall him from my testing, forcing me to step backwards, and then it was over. It took me a second to realize what had happened, for I was laying prone on the concrete surface of the auditorium. I recounted the duel in my mind, recreating it as best as I could, wondering what I could have done differently, realizing that there was nothing, unless I had been able to slow time itself. Sam had expertly and with a speed I had never encountered in my entire life, come straight at me, and while I was occupied parrying Briana and Varus, he had struck me so hard I had been thrown off the mat and onto the hard concrete . By now, Briana was helping me up, and I gladly was accepting her assistance. As I stood, I almost fell, the pain from the blow to my solar plexus intense. I heard Sam speaking but the words were a blur, for I felt faint. If not for the gentle embrace of Briana, I am certain I would have fainted and fallen back to the hard surface.
I considered whether to call for another round, but I quickly realized it would have been futile. There was nothing I could do to defeat the three who had come at me, unless … unless I had the staff provided to me by Sam. I considered for a moment asking if I could go get it, but that was silly for it would reveal my possession of an otherworldly artifact, or so it was I believed in my mind. No, I took my beating that day and calmly and quietly allowed Briana to sit me on the floor, not listening to another word spoken by Sam as he lectured the recruits on the art of killing a Frank.
Dr. Ramelais looked at us, smiled and then spoke, beginning one of the many lectures he had inundated us with over the last couple of years.
“When I first came to Kether and the University, I was not a member of the Legio. I had been raised in the beliefs of my home world. It was a backwater world in the Empire of Man whose dominant theology was based on an omniscient, omnipotent and benevolent creator. Everyone I had ever known had thought like me so there had been no intellectual discourse, no argument, no conflicting opinions whatsoever. I had not chosen my beliefs or political opinions; they had come to me of themselves, just as one does not choose the shape of their coat or the size of their shoes, but simply takes those that are available to be worn. And for me, having lived in a certain society, and then having come to one with radically different beliefs, it was a shock. My original views, in believing in a higher power, had not come from considering it as more rational, but had come from it being in more accordance with my society’s manner of life.
“And so, only when I came to Kether, it was there for the first time that I ran into people who thought differently than me. These were people who were extremely intelligent and extremely accomplished, yet they did not share my beliefs at all. Some were agnostics, while others were atheists, and even some were naturalists … the list would go on forever. It was with these people that I involved myself in all kinds of discussion and arguments. At that point in my life, these questions about whether my original beliefs were true, whether it was even rational or reasonable to believe in a higher power, these questions were beginning to assume a very large portion of what I thought about. All around me, all of Ketherian upper-class society, the intellectuals, the movers and shakers, the power-brokers … they all had no belief in a higher power, except for a small minority. Ketherian society in toto, except for this small minority, had lost all faith in any sort of higher power, and in so doing, I believe it was losing the only strength it truly possessed to fend off the powerful forces arrayed against Mankind. Think of the human body, and consider what would happen if its antibodies, the structures within the body specifically created to fend off sickness and disease, were to simply disappear? The body would be weak, prone to internal and external attack. That is how I perceive the loss of faith has affected society.
The forces arrayed against Mankind are strong, forces including both the external threats from the Sanguinis, as well as the internal threats from the processes of history itself. For in the progression of history, insofar as I see it at least, Kether was a decaying civilization whose members no longer accepted and lived by the cultural norms that had made it great! Because of this, it was rotting from the inside, as if afflicted by a cancer that could not be cured.
“Fortunately, this small minority who believed in this higher power continue to exist, continue to hold this faith of their fathers, and continue to believe in a power greater than themselves. Who are these people? Well, these people are you, and others like you, the members of the Legio Gemini. At its core, the Gemini are a religious order, an order that believes in a higher power, in an omniscient, omnipotent and benevolent creator; it is a group that believes its mission is to live and act consistently with the principles that derive from the existence of such a benevolent creator.”
Dr. Ramelais looked at me, our eyes meeting. Little did I realize when I first encountered the good doctor on Kether that he was also an instructor on Roland, an instructor in ethics and theology. He continued.
“Now most people paint with a broad brush and view soldiers, like athletes, as devoid of intelligence and lacking in all respects any manner of deep thoughts and consideration, and this is how I viewed people like you. However, I soon came to conclude that this initial conclusion was incorrect. I learned that some of the greatest minds in the Galaxy reside amongst the Gemini, from the Lord Samuel Severian, a brilliant man, to the Lord Sandis Archeus, caretaker of House Archeus and the pre-eminent intellectual of our times, as well as too many others to name.” Dr. Ramelais paused. As he did, it dawned on me that the Lord of House Severian, Markus Severian, had not been identified in his list. An odd omission I thought.
“I came to have common cause with these people, eventually joining the Legio myself. Obviously, I was never qualified to serve in the Gemini, not possessing the physical attributes necessary for such an honorable position. ” He bit his lip, “but I do envy you, and I have undertaken to serve in a different manner. Though I am not here to teach anything, nor to lecture, I am here to have discussions with you, to understand your concerns, your doubts, and to, as best as I can, answer them.
“So, as I was mentioning earlier, when I first came to Kether and the Great University, I was confronted with an alien system of thought, an alien way of thinking of things and it flummoxed me. However, I soon regained my bearings and came to realize that there were essentially three main objections brought against this belief in a higher power: first, there is the problem of evil: how could it be that if there is this all-powerful, all-knowing perfectly good Creator, how could it be there are so many horrifying things that go on in our Universe - children killed, Sanguinis invasions, and natural disasters. For instance, consider the supernova some generations back that destroyed entire star systems and trillions upon trillions of souls? How would a benevolent creator allow such a meaningless event to happen? Another objection I heard often from the dilettante intelligentsia was that there just weren’t any good arguments for a Creator anymore, that was just assumed by those I met … again, these were the best and brightest of humanity who were coming to the University. They would look at me and say why should I believe that? Give me some arguments. And then the third argument I heard repeatedly would be something like, well hasn’t science really dispensed with the whole necessity or reason for believing in a Creator, don’t we now know so much more than people knew in the old times that these beliefs are no longer sensible? In fact, though not something commonly known to the masses of Mankind, our history teaches us that the Universe itself was created by Mankind so how does a Creator even come into play under that scenario? So many questions, so few answers,” finished Dr. Ramelais.
Dr. Ramelais paused for only a second. “Recruit Farmer, what are your concerns on the nature of this Creator, assuming you even believe he exists?” He was intently peering at me.
I was shocked he recalled my name but more shocked he had called upon me. Nevertheless, I was ready for the challenge and felt the need to speak. “Well, I think there is a first mover. I have trouble accepting that something can come from nothing. Yes, we’ve all studied the quantum theory that something is created from nothing as a result of quantum fluctuations, but I think this is just semantics, because what we call nothingness is truly a seething, roiling mass of energy. That’s something. Where did it come from? Who or what created it? That is the real inquiry.” I nervously laughed out loud, as if that was an argument in itself, but Dr. Ramelais said nothing, his hands fingering his beard as he peered intently at me.
I continued. “Once we have established some form of first mover, the question then becomes what the nature of that first mover might be. For instance, you referenced an omniscient, omnipotent and benevolent creator. I am having a hard time with that primarily because of the problem of evil and suffering. How can such a being allow for such suffering - the deaths of infants, children left orphaned, the murders of friends for no reason whatsoever,” I paused, realizing I was recounting the events of my life. “What about the deaths of trillions of souls from supernova - certainly some of those were innocent - what about the death of trillions via Sanguinis invasions and worse yet, the Sanguinis apparently only exist because of Mankind’s own folly in creating the Universe, an act that damned the humanity living in the Created Universe to suffer at the hands of its own creation. But those born later had nothing to do with the decision to create this new existence; they had nothing to do with the creation of the Sanguinis; they had nothing to do with anything - they were just born! Why must they suffer for their fathers and mothers’ sins? Why must the innocent suffer at all? In short, it seems to me that this Creator is either not completely omniscient, not completely omnipotent or not completely benevolent. Or, could it be possible there is a competing power on par with this Creator? Who knows. And is this even knowable?”
Dr. Ramelais laughed. He actually laughed and the room then laughed with him. This shamed me for some reason. “Very good Mr. Farmer,” he said. “I am not sure there are any perfect answers, but I prefer to think that a belief in a Creator is properly basic and requires no evidence. To me that is self-evident. I think you are on to something with your discussion as to the nature of this Creator, though I believe there are many rebuttals to your claims. To me, our Universe, all the Universes in this Multiverse, can be viewed as vales of soul making. Our souls are potentialities, something that needs emerging and developing, and such development cannot be achieved in the abstract, but must be achieved in the real world, in contact with and experience with both good and evil, if truly informed decisions are to be made. Evil is a necessary prerequisite for the soul’s development.” He paused, as if in deep thought. “and one must place singular events of evil and suffering in a larger, historical, perspective. When that is done, an omniscient, omnipotent and benevolent first mover becomes probable. If one is to assume history is a process, as opposed to a jumble of cause and effect events, but a progressing process with an end goal in mind, this end goal being the Celestial Civilization, then the argument for a prime mover becomes more necessary.”
I was undeterred and though I was not sure I believed some of the things I was speaking of, I continued. “But some would say that the whole concept of a Creator possessing the attributes the Gemini supposedly hold dear is simply the natural human desire to implant meaning in an otherwise meaningless existence? Some would argue that this need for a Creator is nothing more than Mankind’s desire to transcend themselves, much like our ancestors desire to transcend existence when they created this Universe!” I paused, on a roll now, many of the thoughts I was expressing merely regurgitations of items I had read. “Why does Man need to believe these things for meaning? Can the need for meaning come from elsewhere?”
Dr. Ramelais, whom I had previously pegged as a brilliant thinker, did not flinch. “It seems at least, by the nature of your sermon, that you reject nihilism, and you do contend that meaning is necessary for Mankind to prosper? You do agree that it is through valuation that people survive and endure the danger, pain and hardships they face in life. The complete destruction of all meaning and all values would lead to an existence of apathy and stillness.”
I had never explicitly thought this through, but I nodded for it was obviously implied by my prior response.
“So, where do these values which even you, Michael Farmer, insist must exist come from?” Ramelais continued. “If not from a belief in an omniscient, omnipotent and benevolent first mover, then where? The State?” He frowned. “That has been tried and that has failed miserably throughout history, and ironically that is where we sit today  a society aimlessly floating at sea, its only meaning being the immediate gratification of primal instincts, with at its head, a morally bankrupt bureaucracy!” Ramelais paused. “Where shall we find value in this Universe? Where shall society derive its historical goals?” It was a rhetorical question for he almost immediately continued. “Shall it be in the pursuit of the higher form of man - a society of such higher form of men as the goal of life?”
Dr. Ramelais looked out through the room, wishing for an answer to his question and when none was forthcoming, he continued. “Have we not already tried that approach? Were not the Highborn Lords of antiquity such higher men? And what came of them? A legacy of divisive and crippling wars. And what of the Laxians search for a higher man  what they termed an artificial intelligence? What came of that? Well, we have the Sanguinis as a result.” Ramelais took a breath, and then he spoke, his voice lower and more controlled then before. “I do not suggest that the pursuit of the higher man is fruitless, but I suggest that the pursuit of the higher man as the ultimate goal of Mankind is fruitless.
Ramelais now peered directly at me, his piercing brown eyes boring into my soul. “There are those,” he began, “who suggest that catalyzing events and catalyzing individuals are necessary to move history. There are those who suggest that we are now in the last days of the Celestial Civilization, in an age of nihilism, without meaning and purpose; and there are those who suggest it is the task of great individuals to hasten this age’s end so the process of rebuilding the Celestial Civilization can begin.
It was with that last comment, a frankly astonishing assertion if you think about it  an assertion that suggested that certain men should ally themselves with forces bent on societies destruction to hasten that inevitable destruction  that I recalled my travels down the underground river. I recalled my readings from Sandis Archeus’ A Record Of Ancient Matters. I remembered the focus he’d placed on the great individual, on the catalyzing individual who could move history to its next phase, though what that next phase was to be was never clear to me. If I was understanding Dr. Ramelais correctly, he was suggesting that Kether was doomed and that we should accept its demise, in fact, that we should assist with its demise in order to pave the way for the next phase of history.
Dr. Ramelais rubbed his beard again. The room was quiet. Finally, he spoke. “I have two assignments. First, I want all of you to think about the nature of a Creator. What would it entail? For instance, can this being create a Universe he could not affect? Or more simply, could this being create a chair that he could not move? Under such circumstances, once the Universe is created, the Creator would have to follow the rules of the Universe he created, right? Maybe wrong? Or suppose that we accept that such a being could not create a Universe this being could not affect, does that mean that being is limited, meaning of course that being is not all-powerful?
Second, I want each of you to consider a theory of history. Can history be viewed as a progression toward some end? If so, is this part of some form of divine plan with a divine end in mind and does this explain the problem of evil? If history can be viewed as some form of progression to an end, what is history progressing toward - nihilism? The great man? Something else? What other theories of history are there? So many questions and so many threads to follow. Please be prepared with a short discussion on your thoughts. I will call on many of you and ask that each of you have thought these issues out. There are no right or wrong answers.”
Dr. Ramelais smiled and then began walking from the room. The class was over and as the good doctor departed, the buzz of the crowd intervened. Gabrielus was at my side within seconds, her alluring body brushing up against mine. “What were you thinking today, saying such things?”
I frowned. “I was not thinking. It just came to me.” I said.
She put a soft hand on my chest. “Let’s forget about such matters and get something to eat.” I could sense that the discussion of evil and suffering had shaken her. I wondered about her past, curious if it was one of suffering and pain, or whether it was one of privilege and comfort. It was strange, that after so much time together, I had learned nothing of her. For some reason, this made me contemplate Emily.
The most interesting, and probably most valuable of our lessons, were in the nature and use of the Power. Our instructors were varied, for there was not one professor who spoke to the issues raised by the Power, but a multitude. It was a deeply personal matter, how each human being interacted with this mysterious energy field around us, how each of us was able to manipulate the space and time encompassing everything. It seemed that each day we would have another instructor, each of whom would try and explain to us, not the nature of the Power, but how we were to access it. Some days, we would get seasoned soldiers of the Gemini, who would describe how to create personal shielding against opponents employing the Power, meaning of course the Sanguinis. Other days we would be lectured by scientists whose entire life had been dedicated to understanding this phenomenon of nature. I do, however, recall one particular lesson, conducted by the woman named Briana, the woman who had assisted in my most humbling of defeats  the session conducted by Sam that had ended with me on my back and out of breath. I had thought of her a bit after that day for she had intrigued me. I had tried to learn more about Briana but no matter where I probed, whom I asked, or where I looked, there was no information on her, other than she was a member of Sam’s coterie.
She stood in front of us, a roomful of recruits, speaking. “On the one hand, in this room, there are tables and chairs, and if you went outside at night, you would see stars and planets, and in the field down yonder you will see an oak tree… er, on a different planet maybe,” she added playfully, as the room burst out in laughter, realizing that there were no oak trees to speak of on Roland. She continued once the laughter had subsided. “These things really exist and are really there. But what of space and time? What are we to make of that? Are these forms of our intuition rather than the realities that characterize things in themselves?”
She looked directly at me. “Mr. Farmer?”
I realized she was expecting me to answer. I wondered why I was always being chosen to answer questions during these training dialogues. I cleared my throat and then tried to give her a response. “There are two types of realms of objects, our experience is only one really, the realm of real phenomena, which phenomena depend on us for their existence, and if we should die and go out of existence, so would they. That is because this phenomenal realm is constructed by us from the data, the raw material of experience. The second realm, the realm of our intuition, is not dependant on us for its existence. But there is a connection between these two worlds in that something like a causal transaction between them produces in us how we construct the world of objects.
“Very good. And how does the Power interact with these two worlds?”
I continued, parroting many of the words I had heard from Sam and then later Jericho. “The Power is mysterious, known from intuition only so it is part of this second world, but its affects on the world of objects is clear and obvious, though many deny it. Science cannot account for it and hence denies its existence, yet all Mankind lives their lives as if the Power exists for they see its affects with their own eyes.”
Briana paused. “And how do we access the Power?”
“Strength of mind,” I said, continuing to parrot the words taught me many years ago by Sam and then Jericho.
“So, how do we achieve strength of mind?
“I continued, “it is the ability to remove unharmonious impressions and focus on an issue or a problem wholeheartedly.”
“But how do we achieve that?” Briana persisted.
“By watching ourselves closely, by paying attention to our inner and outer selves,” I said.
She continued looking at me and smiled. “That is correct. It has been said that those who grew up close to the earth, working the land, have this ability to focus, to concentrate.” She paused. “That is why so many Gemini are from the less technologically advanced societies and why so many grew up with a true communion with the world around them.” She then continued. “The following method may assist in gaining better thought control - repeat in your mind the following prayer … do not falter or be afraid, for I am not really alone, I am surrounded by invisible forces that will assist me.”
“Or just count backwards,” I blurted out.
“Where did you learn that?” Briana asked.
I didn’t want to confess that Sam taught me that technique during my childhood, so I lied, “my mother had me use that trick to calm down.”
With that, the entire room laughed.
And so my training continued in all aspects, from the physical, to the scientific, and to the personal, until I achieved the title of Legio Gemini. It had taken five long years, five years of study and physical effort, but in the end, it was worth it. I was assigned to a unit including Granite, Gabrielus, Phoebe, a man by the name of Samir, and William of Clan Red. We were the One Hundred and Eleventh. Strangely and surprisingly, William was appointed unit leader, over his objection. Everyone had thought that I had earned that honor, for I had by leaps and bounds been the most impressive recruit in our class. All had just assumed that I would gain command of my own unit, but that was not to be. I took it well, for I loved William like a brother, having become close with him over the years of our training, yet at the same time, it bothered me and gnawed at me, making me wonder why I had been passed over. This would no longer matter in the big scheme of things as we entered the next phase of our time with the Gemini.
XVII.
FIRST COMBAT
Our unit, part of a larger battalion consisting of Gemini and ordinary Legio ground troops, was deployed throughout the Galaxy over the next couple of years. It was a heady time, traveling from star system to star system, never staying in any one place very long, spending timeless moments in deep space, on board starships, filling the dead time training, or amusing myself by indulging in intimate encounters with Gabrielus. For two full years, our battalion traveled thus, seeing no combat whatsoever, our mere presence in a star system enough to quell hostilities in pending parochial matters. But that is all we did, for never once were we called to deal with the Sanguinis, and though I deeply desired to face one of these awful creatures, human dopplegangers as Granite called them, I also feared the day when our call to duty would come.
Our first semi-permanent deployment was to the Harmony System, a world on one of the spiral arms of our Galaxy, and ironically on the same spiral arm as my home Ptolemy. Harmony was a tourist mecca, a system become most famous for its floating vacation resorts than for any other notable achievement. I spent countless hours with Gabrielus, Granite and Phoebe participating in the gravity defying air sports of Harmony. By now, skydiving - whether orbital or atmospheric - had become second hand to us, and I have to confess the thrill of traveling at maximum velocity would never go away. Nevertheless, Harmony was a strange place to send a Legio battalion, though we were told it was a tactically important location for it was close to most every other key system in the region, meaning we could be deployed rapidly in case of emergency.
I remember the day of our call, an urgent message from our Commandant to meet. We gathered at the Legio headquarters as soon as we could. I recall the Commandant entering, walking proudly to the front of the room, a three dimensional projector by his side, manned by his assistant who had followed him in. The Gemini were seated in our chairs, lounging lazily, waiting for the briefing. This was not the stuff of stories, stories where the soldiers stood at attention, disciplined and submissive to authority, waiting for their orders. No, once a Legio Gemini, there was no longer any need for such posings. We waited respectfully and comfortably as the Commandant prepared himself for his presentation. The Commandant was of middle age, with plain brown eyes, a veteran of many campaigns we had learned. He was a serious solider and well respected; a religiously devout man I knew who never seemed perturbed, but the manner of his gait this day told us immediately that something serious was upon us. Tall, like most soldiers of the Gemini, he was not as tall as me, though no one was I had come to conclude.
Without glancing at us, he began speaking.
“The Sanguinis have moved into the Ptolemy System. They besiege planet Ptolemy as we speak. If the planet falls, the system becomes theirs.” He paused only for a second as a three dimensional image of the Ptolemy System appeared in front of him. “The provincial defense forces have been decimated, orbital defenses are under siege, and Sanguinis forces have landed planet side. Whomever holds the orbitals, holds the planet.” He paused looking out over us. I knew what he said was true, for those who controlled them could hold the entire planet hostage.
The Commandant continued. “They move swiftly to secure three objectives. The first is the orbitals surrounding the planet. The second is the Spaceport in the capital city of Ptolemy. The third is the underground Command Center in the Combre Valley. All three are defended by local forces with a handful of Legio at their side. The few Gemini on the planet are coordinating resistance but if the Command Center falls, Ptolemy falls, for it holds the key to the military global communications network, and remotely controls the Orbital Shipyards. Ptolemy’s cities, other than the Ptolemy Spaceport, have yet to be approached but the eventual enslavement of our people is next … if we fail.”
His last words ‘if we fail’ sent shivers down my spine. Ptolemy, I thought … my home, under attack. I wondered about Emily, about Charlie, about Gustav, and about everyone I had known. I could only imagine what was going through their minds at this very moment?
The Commandant looked us over, letting his last words sink in. We all knew that the Sanguinis took human prisoners, and we had all been informed what they did with the males and male children of humanity, genetically transforming them into monsters. I cringed, however, at the thought of what they would do to people like Emily, enslaving them to give birth to children they would never be permitted to raise and who would eventually be engineered into evil fighting machines - in essence, forced to procreate children who would become the sworn enemies of humankind.
“So, what’s the plan?” Said a voice from behind me eagerly. I did not need to turn my head to know it was William. William of Clan Red was our unit leader, a man born of privilege unlike the rest of us, but a man we respected and loved. I knew that he carried the most credibility within our battalion, if for no other reason than his political connections. Everyone knew of his family, of its ties to House Severian and the Lord of House Severian itself.
The Commandant did not blink as he responded directly to William’s inquiry.
“Ptolemy is a protectorate of House Severian. I am informed that House Severian has petitioned the other Houses for assistance in repelling the Sanguinis invasion but has been rebuffed by House Cabrasas and its allies. Nevertheless, House Severian has deemed Ptolemy to be of such importance that a decision has been made to retake the system.” He paused. “As we speak, the Seventh Fleet is preparing to depart Roland and will be entering the Ptolemy System in ten days.”
I heard murmurs around the room. I knew why. The Legio were sending the Seventh Fleet. The Seventh Fleet, the most formidable of the Legio’s space fighting forces, was commanded by the Lord of House Severian himself, the Lord General Markus Severian. I frowned, wondering if I would finally get a chance to meet the man who might be my true father.
“Ten days?” Exclaimed William. “It will be too late!”
The Commandant smiled, a devious smile it was. “Yes, ten days is too late, but that’s where we come in.” He paused for only a second. “Our mission is yet to be defined with specificity, but is obvious in some respects. We are to prevent the fall of Ptolemy until help can arrive. We are going to Ptolemy and we leave in one solar hour.”
It did not take long for our unit and the rest of the Legio to gather themselves onto five cruisers, each of which was heading to the periphery of the Harmony System. Fifteen hours later, we were gone, in hyperspace and on a mission to save Ptolemy and my home world. And so my first combat was thrust upon me, an action that was not going to be some provincial police encounter, but rather, it was going to be the invasion of a friendly system under tenuous Sanguinis control.
As I walked from the chamber that was my quarters and to the common room, I ran into Gabrielus. She was seated at a table with Granite and Phoebe. I joined them and they looked at me. “Well, here we go,” said Granite.
“Here we go,” I repeated.
“And Ptolemy,” began Gabrielus, “isn’t that where you were born?”
Though not completely sure I had been born there, I nodded, not feeling the need to provide a lengthy explanation as to my history. “Yes. Homeward bound I am.”
The timelines for our entry into the Ptolemy System were tight but they were met to the solar minute. It took us one-half of a day to jump from Harmony to Sares, an empty system used as nothing more than a transportation and communications relay point. Once within the Sares System, we rapidly accelerated to two-tenths of the speed of light, traversing the distances within the system quickly until we were at the next jump point. I stood in the Eye most of the time, watching our movements, examining the other ships, and studying the environment around us - I found it all fascinating. As we approached the next jump point, the jump point to Ptolemy, I noticed that ten additional battle cruisers were waiting for us, ten ships I had not seen before.
“What are those ships?” I said, posing a question to the Eye.
“Legio Spatium battle cruisers commanded by Captain Luc Quenneville. They are joining our flotilla to Ptolemy.”
“Where did they come from?”
“They have been waiting for us.”
I had heard the name Quenneville before. I wondered where and audibilized my question.
“Captain Quenneville is one of the Legio Spatium’s most formidable commanders, a captain of unparalleled tactical insight and instinct. Though assigned to the Spatium and not a member of the Gemini, he answers solely to Lord Samuel Severian.”
“How is it that he came to be so close to Ptolemy to be available for this mission.”
“I would be speculating,” spoke the Eye.
I considered this response in my mind. How had one of the most formidable commanders of the Legio just happened to be near Ptolemy and available for this mission, especially a commander under Sam’s control. I had come to conclude that nothing with Sam was coincidental, and I wondered if Sam had somehow received advance knowledge of the invasion. It made me wonder if my unit’s presence on Harmony had also not been a coincidence.
The ten ships soon joined the five cruisers carrying the Legio battalion, making fifteen in total, a woeful number to retake a star system, but that was not the plan as I would soon learn. We were going to enter the system, accelerate to Planet Ptolemy and then drop on pre-planned targets, two Gemini teams on each of the orbital shipyards, eight teams at the Ptolemy spaceport, and the remaining teams split at separate locations near the Command Center. Ordinary Legio soldiers would accompany each team, though each of our assignments had yet to be determined. What was determined, however, was that my unit was to be transported from our cruiser to the flagship, a ship called The Way of the Pilgrim  a ship commanded by Captain Luc Quenneville. This I found surprising because we were being separated from the main body of the Gemini. I wondered why.
We were aboard a shuttle shortly, and within half an hour, we had landed on The Way of the Pilgrim. Surprisingly, we were soon greeted by a familiar face, Briana, Briana Skoje I would later learn was her full name, a member of Sam’s coterie, an instructor to us in the Power while at Roland, and one of the three who had humiliated me in quarterstaff training. My jaw dropped at seeing her. She smiled at our little group.
“Greetings,” she said. “You didn’t think you would have all the fun, did you?”
We said nothing, but I took a moment to examine Briana, a woman whom I now firmly concluded possessed a remarkable aesthetic appeal. Though not too tall, she was not short, with a well-shaped figure and an angelic face. Her skin had a golden color, with what I surmised was long curly golden hair, maybe platinum in the right light, tied in a ponytail by some female contraption. Her eyes were golden yellow, the type of eyes most typically associated with the Laxian species of Mankind, though she was undoubtedly not a Laxian. Briana was mesmerizing in every respect and I found myself staring at her. If you saw her for the first time, you would never guess that she was anything more than 25 years of age, though in fact she was much, much older.
Her past, like most of the Gemini, was one of tragedy. Though not known to me at the time, I would subsequently come to learn that she had been raised on a human settlement outside of the Core galaxy, in a region of space simply called the Beyond. Her colony had come to be occupied by the Sanguinis, yet somehow she had been among those who had escaped, finding her way to Kether at a very early age. Apparently, in an effort to survive, with no family or friends to guide her, she had become a renowned exotic dancer under the name Syria Saldena. From there, her history becomes more murky, and though I myself came to know it, this is not the time to describe it. Suffice to say, she joined the Legio, and then ultimately achieved high rank in the Gemini, eventually becoming one of Sam’s closest advisors.
“Your quarters and Pods are already prepared. You may go there now.” She said nothing more, but merely waved us by with her arms, her stunning golden-brown eyes meeting mine briefly. “William,” she began, ” a word please.” William stayed behind and I glanced back to see her engaging him in conversation. For a moment, though I could not be sure, I thought I saw disappointment then anger cross the features of his face, but by then I had turned the corner.
We each were placed in separate quarters, and soon Gabrielus was with me, doing what she always wanted to do in private. Despite the physical release provided, I was nevertheless distracted, the mystery of what was happening stumping me. Why was Briana here? Where did Captain Quenneville’s small fleet come from? What had Briana said to William? Soon enough, I would find out. It was not long before the loudspeakers blared phase shift, and it was then that the reality of our first combat was upon me.
“Phase shift in one hour,” I heard over the loudspeakers. With this announcement, Gabrielus hugged me one last time and departed, for we all knew that it was time to prepare ourselves as if we were going into combat. I dressed myself completely in my combat gear, the ablative armor over my comfortable leather outfit, the bracer on my wrist, my quarterstaff at my hip, a dagger in my boot, an ablative helmet over my head with full communications paraphernalia embedded, and of course, my Power Rifle on my back. I fingered the quarterstaff at my hip, realizing that I had not wielded it since the night of Jericho’s death, instead being content to use the training staffs provided by the Gemini, but I knew the time had come to employ it. For a second, I thought I felt the electricity of the Power flowing from the artifact through my body, and I felt like the King of the World. The moment passed quickly as I strode to the staging chamber, a chamber filled with Pods, each Pod containing the Eye technology, a technology which allowed a user the ability to survey events in space outside the ship. Once strapped inside my Pod, I waited.
“Five minutes to phase shift,” I heard. Of course, I knew being in my Pod made little difference with respect to phase shift, but we had been trained to enter our Pods before all phase space entries and exits. I had never gotten out of my mind the stories of ships breaking up upon entry into phase space, never to be heard of again. Even if a soldier was inside a Pod, it would make little difference, but for some reason, it provided comfort to all of us.
In any event, the moment came and went, imperceptibly, and then the ship was in hyperspace, phase space, quantum space, whatever one wished to call it. Moving from normal space to hyperspace never bothered me, and in fact, it didn’t bother most people, other than in a conceptual way. What was it? Where were we? How was it that we were able to move such great distances in space through this other medium? These were questions even the most learned scientists did not have complete answers to, though the technology seemed to work and that was enough for most to accept. In any event, I decided to stay in my Pod for a bit, searching the system to see if our leaders had seen fit to provide a combat plan, and I found it. Though we had not been briefed on it, it was available for all of us to see.
After entering the Ptolemy System, we were going to accelerate to as close to two tenths of the speed of light as possible, making a break for Ptolemy, the goal being to avoid enemy flotillas. The theory behind our small invading force was to accelerate to such high speeds as to be an almost impossible target for any Sanguinis fleets to intercept. As we approached planet side, one group of soldiers would eject via their Pods toward the orbitals, board them and provide support against Sanguinis forces already within. Another group of Gemini was going to land in certain pre-designated spots on Ptolemy, one group at the Spaceport and another group near the Command Center. Distilled to its simplest, the goal was to reach Ptolemy as soon as possible to provide enough support to prevent the planet from falling before the arrival of reinforcements.
As I perused the particulars of the plan, I recollected the lessons I had learned from my time on Roland with respect to space combat. We had been told that space combat needed to be viewed as combat in the normal four dimensions of space, but with two added dimensions of position and velocity. The leader that can exploit the peculiarities of these so-called six dimensions possessed a great advantage. I knew we had one of the best in Captain Quenneville, his reputation for creativity, daring and know-how legendary amongst the Legio. He was a master in the art of moving through the six dimensions required for space combat.
Gravity acts by bending trajectories, different velocity vectors enable different kinds of attack, and the asymmetries induced by stars and planets provide great creative material for great tacticians such as Quenneville. Planets, megastructures, orbital habitats and asteroids are sitting ducks. Their positions can be known with great accuracy, and they cannot dodge incoming fire. Although planets and some megastructures are protected by their sheer bulk, in general such major structures are too vulnerable to have much military value. Of course, the purpose of the great orbiting shipyards around Ptolemy was not to prevent an invasion, but rather, the purpose was to forestall an invasion for as long as possible. No planet could withstand an enemy force indefinitely.
For the most part, military installations are kept small, mobile and placed in awkward orbits or deep space in order to make them hard to reach. In fact, most well-defended systems place mobile military installations, such as mines or drones, near jump points, adjacent to significant military assets, or alongside expected routes of travel, all in order to protect entry and prevent exit from a system. I expected that Ptolemy most likely had such installations throughout, and I inquired into the Eye as to their whereabouts, but the response I received was always same - “that information is classified.”
The space mines littered throughout the system, though their locations remained a secret, were little more than stealthy targeting and weapon systems that wait for something to pass within range that does not have the right code; and if the correct code is not entered, these mines reveal themselves in an attempt to destroy the target. Conventional beam, missile and nuclear mines are generally used. The question I was wondering about was whether the mines at the entry jump point had been compromised and whether we were jumping into a so-called hornet’s nest.
In space combat, information is the scarcest commodity. The nature of space combat makes communications hard. It is not just the demands of stealth that makes it hard to communicate, but also the long delays. If a battle moves fast, messages will not be able to catch up with a fast ship before it is too late. Light speed delays mean ships have to wait for long periods of time before getting information about the status of each other. This makes giving orders even more complex, as an order may be received when it is no longer relevant or new events have superseded it. One solution that is commonly used is order sets, detailed instructions combined with information about what conditions the different orders are relevant to. They act as programs for what to do, when to do something, and where to do something if certain events occur. But these programs’ performance are only as good as the strategy of their creator, its grasp of likely events, and how they are implemented by the individual ships. In the end, space combat always depends on the abilities of individual ships and commanders rather than any central general - just as in economics, the centralized leader will lack enough information to make informed decisions, while the individual agents might lack overview but at least know what is going on.
I knew that our plan was for our flotilla of fifteen ships to stay close enough together to permit for quick communications between ships. Depending on the situation, things could change. I departed my Pod, having spent hours in there, realizing that I needed to rest. Gabrielus buzzed me but I ignored her, desiring my rest more than any cheap pleasures. We were still eight solar hours from re-entry into normal space; we were eight hours from my first combat.
I awoke one hour from entry. I immediately realized it was time to go. I went to my Pod. There were numerous Legio milling about in this particular bay, and I knew that the same was occurring in the other bays. The Pods were the lifeblood of an invading force, tiny self-contained life-support systems, whose only goal was to get a living, breathing human being from deep space onto a rock. We nodded to each other as we approached our Pods, and my unit came together for our final good bye’s, but I noticed that William was missing. Where was he? It was at that moment that I saw Briana enter the bay. She walked straight toward me and my companions, beckoning us over to her.
“Michael, Lucas, Phoebe, Samir, Gabrielus,” she began, waiting for each of us to focus our attention on her. No one said anything but I finally nodded, as if to acknowledge that we were listening. “William will not be joining you during the drop. I will take his place. And let me be clear about something.” Her voice was firm and in control. “This was not by his choice. If he had a choice, he would be standing here next to you.”
“Then why?” Blurted Gabrielus.
“It was on the orders of Lord Samuel Severian,” she answered calmly.
“Why?” I repeated, posing the obvious question, though we all had suspicions that this had a great deal to do with William’s family and its political connections.
“Why is not important, but suffice to say, this was not his decision. In fact, he is so distraught, he would not even come down to see you.”
“So, will you be taking command?” Phoebe asked, skepticism evident by her tone.
Briana looked at me. “Oh goodness no. I am merely a replacement. Michael has been elevated to Unit commander.” She smiled and reached a hand out to me. “Congratulations.”
The others were nodding, and I saw a wide grin come to Granite’s face, the best friend I now had in the Galaxy, and he slapped a strong hand across my back, almost knocking me from my feet. I shook Briana’s hand, as the others also congratulated me. Though this was a great moment, something gnawed at me, bothered me about how it had gone down. I knew I had to get over it, because I was about to enter into my first combat. Over the speaker, I heard thirty minutes until entry into normal space. I watched as my compatriots geared up, placing helmets on top of their heads, attaching wrist bracers, and ensuring that their armor was properly affixed to their bodies. I ran my fingers over the armor on my chest, an armor that was in actuality covering the entirety of my body. Ablative armor was an amazing technology, a technology that protected against beam or projectile weapons by ablating, or vaporizing, the projectile as it hit, thereby dissipating the destructive effect of the weapon. Because ablative armor was soon eroded, it was not much use in sustained firefights. This was the reason for an under-ablative skin, as a second level of redundancy, as well as the wrist bracer energy shielding, making a typical Gemini soldier essentially impervious, in the short term, to projectile attacks.
I looked at my compatriots, some of whom had already entered their Pods, our so-called coffins. I glanced around the bay, realizing that the majority of the bay constituted ordinary Legio, and not Gemini, most of whom would probably not survive the day. I watched Granite, as he entered his Pod, and he looked more nervous than I had ever seen him before, rubbing his hands together as if repeatedly washing them. Next, I saw Samir, who was clenching and un-clenching his fists. Phoebe was picking at the loose skin on her fingers and the redness was showing. Gabrielus was stretching her arms over her head over and over, and rolling her shoulders. Finally, I saw our newest member, Briana, and she was merely kneeling in front of her Pod, her eyes closed, with her hands resting on her thighs. Was she praying? For some reason, this unnerved me more than the others’ reaction, for I had assumed that Briana was a super-soldier, a so-called wonder woman, but she appeared just as nervous as the next person. As I considered these thoughts, I wondered what my face revealed. Was it fear? Was it stoicism? Was it courage? I would never know I suppose, though I had one advantage over most of the others - I had actually seen hand to hand combat during my youth, witnessing death and imposing death on others. Over the ship intercom, a voice began speaking, breaking me from my reverie.
“Soldiers, we approach re-entry. Once in normal space, it is a fifteen hour sprint to Planet Ptolemy. Your instructions are being downloaded to the Eye right now.”
We were fifteen minutes from entry and there was little to do now but wait. As Gemini, we had no ability to affect a space battle, our role limited to acting as mere observers. Knowing this, I took the time to study the information from the Eye regarding our instructions. Our unit’s job, as far as I could tell, was to land planet side, enter the mountain catacombs that provided a back route to the Command Center, achieve the Command Center and reinforce the soldiers inside until air and space superiority could be re-established. Briana had the maps and codes for entering the supposed secret entrance to the Command Center. I cringed at the thought that she possessed this information and not me. What would happen if she did not survive the drop? As if on cue, I saw transmitted to me, and to the remainder of my unit, instructions that were to be downloaded into our bracers, including a secret map to the Command Center and a code. We were the only six people who would possess this information.
With five minutes until entry, I continued to use the Eye, readying myself for our return into normal space. The Eye permitted the solitary soldier to see the totality of the battlefield - the entire system, all the combatants, and all the terrain. It was a fabulous technology. I had of course been inside of an Eye during training missions but I had never been inside of one during an actual combat. Therefore, as the moment approached, I readied myself for what the Eye would reveal. Many soldiers refused to engage the Eye, fearing that if they did, it would distract them from their focus, or even more problematically, it would demoralize them. This had been an object of great debate within the military establishment, though eventually it had been decided that it was better to have soldiers informed than not informed. But this maxim had its limit for only the elite troops of man were permitted to use the Eye, only the Legio Gemini. Ordinary Legio were not granted access to such wonderful technology.
“One solar minute until entry into the Ptolemy System,” blared the voice over the loudspeaker. One minute, I thought, until the sprint began, a sprint to get to Planet Ptolemy in one piece, but to do that required navigating a Sanguinis deep space gauntlet. I found it interesting that I was being sent home, to the place of my youth, to do battle, and as if on cue, I again wondered if Sam had something to do with it.
I knew the moment was upon me, my first combat. I checked to make sure all the systems in the Pod were functioning - propulsion, life support, communications, the Eye. So far, so good. I felt for the backpack attached to my shoulders, knowing that my chute, my rifle and some provisions were there. I was ready.
The countdown began at 10 seconds … 3 … 2… 1 …and suddenly the Eye came alive in front of me. I saw space debris near our vicinity. It took me some time to figure out what was going on but clearly the Sanguinis had been near the jump point  had been was the operative term. I noticed that our fleet was already accelerating, heading straight for a tiny little planet near the main star in this two star system, we were moving toward Ptolemy.
As I examined the space around us, I knew that what I was seeing were events from the past, for the light that was striking my eyes had taken time to reach our tiny sector of space. The closer in space to an event, or picture if you will, the more “real” the events that picture depicted. For instance, I saw two large fleets circling Planet Ptolemy, circling just outside of the firing range of the great orbitals. This picture was at least four hours old, for that was how long it took the light to reach our eyes. In roughly four hours, our appearance in the system would be known to the Sanguinis orbiting the planet.
I saw an extremely large additional fleet near the opposite jump point, clearly the jump point from which the Sanguinis had entered the system. Those coordinates were sufficiently distant that it would take roughly seven hours for the light from our entry to reach them. Already, it was obvious that a huge armada was moving from the opposite jump point toward Ptolemy. I wondered how long the planet could last and suddenly, I did feel demoralized. I took a deep breath as I continued perusing the system.
I saw that a fairly large fleet was nearby, probably no more than one hour from our position. It would not take them long to realize we were here, though there would be enough of a delay, just enough of a delay, to give Captain Quenneville a bit of a head start. It was obvious we were going to have to run a deep space gauntlet through potentially three separate Sanguinis fleets just to get to Ptolemy, with the knowledge that a fourth was already approaching the beleaguered planet, and I knew that through it all, there was little I could do to affect this process, my participation more akin to an observer at a theater than an active combatant. I sighed, wondering whether we would even make it to the planet.
“How long?” I murmured more to myself that to anyone. As if on cue, a clock appeared in three dimensional space in front of me, the Eye of course, and I saw that we were at best twenty hours from Ptolemy (assuming two tenths of the speed of light the entire way), and the clock was ticking backwards as our cruisers had already began a massive acceleration. I observed our formation, realizing we were not really in any formation at all, instead loosely organized into a hodgepodge of ships, as if Captain Quenneville did not want to reveal to spying eyes his intended battle plans.
I never left my Pod, fascinated by the picture of the solar system in front of me. In about fifteen minutes, I saw that the Sanguinis fleet closest to our position itself had begun to accelerate, and they were turning in our direction, or toward where they anticipated we would be, a straight intercept course. Due to their original position, they clearly had the ability to intercept us.
“One hour to engagement with Sanguinis fleet designated Alpha,” said the Eye, again as if anticipating my question. I heard more updates as the enemy fleet the Eye was identifying as “Alpha” moved closer and closer, and I became nervous, for our fleet seemed to do nothing, not even change its trajectory in the least, continuing to make a bee line for Ptolemy.
As I took in my first deep space engagement, I realized the complexity of what was occurring. Ships were moving at high speeds, in various formations toward other fleets, which were doing the same. It seemed like chaos, but it was orchestrated chaos …it was beautiful and compelling in a strange sort of way. When we were about five minutes away, I saw that our fleet formation tightened, into a diamond shape, with our ship at the center. Though not learned in the terminology and language of space travel, I had learned that the orientation of a ship was decided by four components - the first two being whether it was heading toward the star or away from it, termed Starward or Port (based on an ancient terminology), while the third and fourth components being whether the ships were above or below the plane of the system. In other words, each star system has a plane on which its planets and planetoids orbited, and spacefarers had termed the area above the plane as Up and the area below the plane as Down. The plane was arbitrarily set by a fleet, though friendly systems typically set baselines for all incoming starship traffic. It was that simple. Using this terminology, our small fleet of fifteen ships was heading Starward but we had just modified to course upwards.
Suddenly, I saw our formation break as five ships turned directly toward the approaching Sanguinis fleet, moving upward. In Legio Spatium terminology, there had been a course correction to some point between Starward and Port, upwards. Our ship was in the first formation of what would ultimately become a stack, like a stack of cards. Thirty seconds later, a second group of five ships conducted the same maneuver, and then another thirty seconds later, the last five ships did the same. All our ships were decelerating as they were climbing the plane of the system, braking to one point five of the speed of light. I watched in fascination, wondering what the plan was, if there even was one. Suddenly, all three formations, stacked on top of each other turned back Starward, still decelerating - it reminded me of a blooming flower, but as if only one side of the flower had bloomed. As we did, I saw that we were going to encounter the Sanguinis fleet within minutes, which just moments before itself had turned upwards to match our maneuver. I assumed this was good that they were reacting to us and we were not reacting to them. I noticed that the Sanguinis were in a diamond formation like we had been before.
“How many ships?” I blurted.
Obviously knowing what I was referencing, the Eye responded. “Thirty five.”
“How long until engagement?”
“One minute.”
I waited, watching in fascination as our fleet continued its turn Starward, stacked on top of each other, realizing that the Sanguinis fleet was going to collide directly into our bottom stack or flank. Suddenly, the ten ships consisting of the top two stacks leveled off, no longer moving upwards, now beginning to accelerate again, approaching two tenths of the speed of light. The bottom stack simultaneously had turned downward and was now heading directly toward the Sanguinis fleet, separating from us, and they were maintaining their speed, making me wonder if they would survive. They would not.
The moment of engagement came and went, automatic weapons systems firing. It took a second for me to process what had occurred. I saw a significant amount of space debris as the Sanguinis fleet came through, or what remained of it, ships clearly damaged in the engagement and others completely obliterated. The engagement had somehow changed their trajectory, probably in order to avoid destruction, but what I saw emerge from the conflagration was only twenty two Sanguinis ships, many clearly damaged beyond immediate repair. Those that were still functioning were turning and accelerating but they were now far behind us. It was clear to me what Captain Quenneville had done. He had sacrificed five ships to get past the first Sanguinis fleet.
By now, I saw that we were still accelerating, again approaching to as close to two tenths of the speed of light as we could with our destination being Planet Ptolemy. Behind us were the remnants of the Sanguinis fleet we had just engaged, and in front of us were two large Sanguinis fleets circling the planet, two fleets that still did not know we were in the system. But that would change shortly when the light from our arrival reached them.
“Two hours until the Sanguinis fleets circling Ptolemy become aware of our presence. It is anticipated they will move toward us and we expect the next engagement in eight hours, roughly speaking,” said the Eye. “Recommendation is to leave your Pod, eat, stretch your legs, sleep.”
I did as suggested, meeting my unit in the common area for a snack.
“Wow!” Said Granite. “Did you see that?”
“Brilliant, but I hope there were not too many Legio on board those ships?” said Phoebe.
Briana, who had joined us, spoke up. “None at all. Those ships were remotely piloted. They are decoys. We cannot afford to be losing Legio in suicide missions,” she added.
“Don’t the Sanguinis have jamming technology to prevent remote piloting of the drone ships?” Asked Gabrielus.
“They do, but their technology has a distance limit set by the laws of physics - it’s called the speed of light, and of course we program the drone ships with their final instructions outside of that limit. There is nothing they can do.”
We all nodded as we sat there.
“Michael,” Briana began. ” I understand you lived on Ptolemy and in fact you grew up in the Cuesta Valley.”
I nodded.
“That is the reason your unit was chosen for this particular mission,” she continued. “Intelligence reports that we have received since we entered this system paint a dire picture planet side, indicating that the Command Center’s outer defenses have been breached. Sanguinis forces, led by three units of Franks, are inside the perimeter and are slowly moving their way toward the interior. That will take some time. Four Gemini teams, supported by ordinary Legio soldiers and whatever armor we can drop planet side, are going to try and retake the perimeter. Our job is to enter the labyrinthine caves and to somehow access the Command Center from the interior. We are going to leap frog the advancing Sanguinis and engage them from the front, while our brethren engage them from the back, trapping them in between. At the very least, if all else fails, it is our job to hold the Command Center until help arrives.”
“That could be weeks!” Exclaimed Granite.
Briana smiled. “It could be, but no one ever said this was going to be easy.”
“So, how do we get inside the Command Center?” I asked.
“There is an entrance through the mountain. I have the maps, but I need a local to guide us through the terrain. You grew up there, you hiked and fished and rode horses in those mountains. You know your way around. You will be our guide.
I smiled. “Okay.” I wondered how she knew this history.
We were soon informed that the Sanguinis fleets circling the planet had started accelerating in our direction about two and one half hours after the conclusion of our first engagement. We were ordered into our Pods one-half hour prior to contact with the Sanguinis fleet, another fleet of about thirty five ships. By now, I had seen, via the Eye, that our fleet was relaying messages to the planet and throughout the system.
“Legio Gemini have entered the system. The Seventh Fleet is en route. Planet Ptolemy will soon be liberated.” This was being relayed over and over again throughout space. Whether the message was getting through the Sanguinis jamming efforts and to the native populations of Ptolemy was a different matter.
Captain Quenneville performed a similar maneuver during the encounter with the second Sanguinis fleet, this time placing the stack on the down plane of the system. Five more drones were obliterated, but they served their purpose of getting the last five remaining ships past the second Sanguinis fleet. I assumed these last five ships contained the entire Legio battalion that was going planet side. We were now eight hours from Ptolemy. As I sat in the Eye, I noticed that the third Sanguinis fleet had not left its orbit, an orbit made extremely wide in order to avoid the firepower of the orbital shipyards.
As we approached Ptolemy, my heart pounded beyond its normal excited state and I wondered if I was hyperventilating. Was it because this was my first combat, or was it because I was coming home? Emily. I imagined seeing her and I wondered how she was these days. Emily. The first love of my life. Emily. I felt my pulse quicken as the seconds ticked off …soon. When we were about one hour from Ptolemy, the third Sanguinis fleet turned to engage us, the two other Sanguinis fleets still pursuing from behind. We were trapped. I also saw the fourth Sanguinis fleet nearing Ptolemy from the opposite end of the system. They would be too late. As the seconds ticked off until engagement with the third enemy fleet, a perverse game of chicken seemed to be playing itself out. Though I expected Captain Quenneville to do something, perform a stacking turn or some other sort of tactical maneuver, he did not. Our ships had by now begun to decelerate, approaching one tenth of the speed of light. This was permitting the pursuers to get closer but was also delaying the moment of engagement with the approaching ships. Suddenly, one group of approaching enemy ships  about one-third  began hurtling downward from the plane of the system, another third began hurtling upwards from the plane of the system, while a third remained on course. Clearly, the Sanguinis commander was anticipating another stacking maneuver. He was willing to sacrifice all his ships in order to prevent our small flotilla from passing. However, Captain Quenneville did nothing of the kind as we continued to decelerate toward Ptolemy and toward the enemy.
“Two minutes until engagement,” said the Eye.
Almost as if on cue and within seconds of the Eye’s announcement, a number of ships in the Sanguinis fleet broke apart, as if struck by projectile weaponry.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Nuclear mines,” said the Eye.
“Here?” I asked dumbfounded.
“They have always been here, waiting to be triggered by an enemy force unaware of their location.”
I nodded to myself as our five ships, now accelerating, sped past the debris field that had been the approaching enemy fleet, the only obstacle between us and the planet. Brilliant, I thought. Lay mines at certain unspecified locations around the perimeter of a planet and draw the enemy into the minefield. We had decelerated to ensure that the Sanguinis struck the mines first. The Sanguinis fleet had not see it coming. However, I knew that this engagement was far from over.
As we approached, I used the Eye to watch the events unfolding and something unexpected occurred. When we were ten minutes from drop, one of the orbital shipyards detonated. Within seconds, two more exploded, and I immediately realized that we were heading straight for the debris field left by the massive structures’ destruction.
“What happened!” I asked breathlessly.
“Sanguinis forces were on the verge of taking control of the orbitals. It is likely that the Command Center remotely destroyed them before the orbitals could be converted to Sanguinis control.”
I frowned, my mouth agape, astonishment and disgust coloring my mood. The sheer amount of destruction, death and mayhem that had already occurred was mind-boggling. I wondered how many people had already died, and I wondered how many more still would die.
Time seemed to pass slowly as depression began to overcome me. A countdown began and soon I heard the words that made my knees weak. “Imminent insertion,” said the computer voice smoothly, and I knew the time for my first combat was now. I felt a shaking to the structure of the ship, and I wondered if it had been hit, or whether we were simply struggling through the massive debris field left by the detonation of the shipyards. Events were now happening fast, too fast for my human brain to process. I heard someone yell over the intercom “Legio don’t do ships!” - one of the most famous sayings of the Legio Gemini. Suddenly, I came to realize I was in deep space and moving at a high rate of speed toward Planet Ptolemy. I managed to move my head a bit sideways and saw thousands of pods heading toward the planet, and I knew that this was being broadcast to the inhabitants of Ptolemy. The message was clear to the native population - keep hope alive and resist, the Legio Gemini and the Seventh Fleet were here to retake their home world, my home world, from the invading Sanguinis monsters.
I looked straight ahead, and saw the curved greenish-blue limb of Ptolemy, the only sound now being my breathing. I thought about my vitals and suddenly they appeared  the battle eye was reading my mind and it was telling me that my pulse was high, my breathing too rapid, and my eyes darting wildly  basically, I was hyperventilating. I took deep breaths, just as Sam had taught me years ago to slow my breathing. I glanced up again and saw the pods approaching the atmosphere, each moving at extremely rapid speeds. And then we were in the atmosphere and it was almost as if there had been a “Boom” and that is when I heard the warnings from the Eye.
“Nano Virus. Nano Virus.” And then the Eye went silent, not to be heard from again. I calmed myself, realizing in that moment that my pod was no longer being guided by the Eye and I knew I was in trouble. It did not take long for the Pod to begin spinning out of control, and I felt nauseous, wondering if I would lapse from consciousness. I thought to speak to my unit and to those others that I could reach, speaking through my helmet’s communications gear as best as I could, slurring the words.
“The Eye has been compromised. Take manual control of your pod and eject if necessary” I said.
Silence. I hoped that the others had heard me and I thought I heard Briana respond, though the static was deafening. “Michael is correct  take manual control and eject if necessary.”
By now, my pod had entered a deep cloud cover, and it was still spinning uncontrollably It was night time. Though I had no readings as to my altitude via the Eye, I still had functioning bracer technology, via the bracer attached to my wrist and connected wirelessly to my helmet, and it was providing altitude updates. Suddenly, it was warning me that I was one thousand meters from the surface, but as I looked around me, I could not see the planet surface, because the clouds were impeding my vision. We had trained for moments such as these, performing hundreds of jumps, always trying to perfect our ejection so as to be as close to the ground as possible. I reached for the eject handle, but I did not pull it, for I suddenly saw bursts of light, small explosions in the sky it seemed. As I strained to glean what was occurring, it appeared that projectile fire was emanating from the surface toward the sky - the Sanguinis were targeting the incoming Legio. In order to protect myself, I would have to eject at the last possible moment. I waited until I was at five hundred meters before I ejected, and as I did, my vision was blurry. Now, I was in free fall, but I did not pull the cord for my chute, a chute composed of an advanced smart fabric mesh called fibercloth. Fibercloth was a manufactured cloth powered by micro-fans installed within approximately millimeter sized mesh openings. There were thousands of these nano-fans within my chute, each intended to soften the descent of the person or thing landing. Fibermesh was the most effective method for dropping armor, and I knew that significant armor was being dropped in various locations around the planet, though none of it was intended for our mission and my unit.
By now, I was in free fall, the only thing protecting me from the elements being my nano-shield. I felt the rain pelting my face, refreshing me and providing my senses with a semblance of clarity, and that’s when I finally emerged from the cloud cover and saw a tree filled mountainside rapidly approaching. I waited, and I waited, and when I was at what I perceived to be roughly a hundred meters, I pulled the cord. As the chute released from my backpack, the vision of the dense forest surrounding Cordillero came into clear view, remembrances and memories flooding my consciousness. Emily. Where was she? I shook my head to clear my thinking, realizing that I needed to focus on the task at hand. I landed safely in the deep forest, ironically at a location not far from the Cairn. I wondered if anything remained of Sam’s old hiding place. The thought passed as I gathered my chute and pulled my rifle from my back, readying for combat. But before I could engage the enemy, I needed to find my unit. I was planet side and I was home.
XVIII.
THE NATIVE SON
As I silently moved through the forest, the sound of rain pelting the trees and ground encompassing me, with no Eye to guide me, I wondered if this was how battles had been fought in ancient times. I had no sense of the surrounding tactical situation and was moving blindly to the rally point. I removed my compass, an old fashioned instrument that had never worn out its value, and used it to guide me toward the pre-planned meeting coordinates. For a moment, Ptolemy’s moon appeared to fill the sky; her disk was blood red and half overcast; she seemed to throw on me a bewildered and dreary glance, before burying herself once more behind the immense cloud cover of the storm. The wind roared high in the forest, shifting the leaves and dead branches on the ground, but the forest otherwise was still and solitary, filling me with dread. On both sides of me as I traversed the forest was a long, pale place, unvaried in all respects, and I felt like I was in a graveyard.
I continued, soon approaching a small clearing on this dreary, tree-laden mountainside. I knelt down, hiding behind a large tree before whistling. Almost immediately, I saw Granite and Phoebe leap out from behind a huge boulder on the other side of the clearing. They waived. I emerged from my spot as I waved back, running to greet them. We waited for a short time before the rest of my unit  Briana, Samir and Gabrielus  arrived. With them came numerous Legio stragglers.
“Not good,” said Briana once we had gathered in the small clearing, a perimeter by now having been established. “There was some bug that threw many of us off course.” And now she paused as if thinking. “Many Legio will have perished.”
I frowned, realizing the truth of what she had just uttered. More death, I thought, my mood darkening. Too much death in this world, I concluded, and for what purpose? There really was no answer that made much sense, other than Mankind had to defend itself. I closed my eyes for a moment then shook my head, as if tossing these negative thoughts from my consciousness. Life had to have a meaning, I kept saying to myself. If I thought otherwise, I would be succumbing to the same nihilism that had infected society.
“We need to gather whatever survivors we can,” I finally uttered. “Let’s send teams out to see if they can find any.” Granite and the others nodded before they stealthily began journeying through the dark and wet forests of the Cuesta Valley, searching for surviving allies.
It did not take long for us to gather another fifty soldiers, each of these ordinary Legio, and though termed ordinary Legio, they were still some of the most competent and efficient warriors in the Galaxy. Though Briana was not in command - I was supposed to be - she acted as if she was. This did not bother me very much, for I knew that our small group needed organization and direction, and she was providing it. She sent out additional scouts to gain a lay of the land, and before long, we were getting reports that the Sanguinis had taken the village of Cordillero and had sequestered many of its human inhabitants in the Town Hall. I clenched my fists when I heard this, anger almost overwhelming me, wondering if Emily or her family, if Charley or his parents, and if the others that I knew and had grown up with were in the Town Hall. Briana waved the soldier away, but before he could depart, I addressed him.
“Is the village defended?” I asked.
The soldier looked at Briana, as if inquiring into whether he should respond to my question. I continued to stare at him, my look stern and demanding, awaiting a response. Briana remained silent.
“Yes, but weakly. They clearly do not expect any sort of engagement.”
“Why do you say that?” I asked.
“They post scouts on the outskirts of the town square but there are not many, maybe a couple groups of three. The Town Hall itself is guarded by a number of Sanguinis, but again, very few. I observed only a single Frank when he stepped out of the Hall. He walked the town square and then returned inside. My assessment is that they are a holding team, probably no more than fifty combatants and at least one Frank.”
I nodded. “Did you observe the stables?”
“The stables?” The soldier asked.
“Where the horses, the four legged animals, are located,” I said with a smile, realizing that this soldier had probably never seen or heard of a horse before.
He smiled with enlightenment. “Yes, on the southern edge of town. It did not seem guarded at all.”
I nodded. “Thank you.”
Briana stared at me, a look of worry coming to her features. “You must stay focused on the mission,” she said quietly, so quietly that I was the only person who could hear her speak. For some reason, at that very moment, I remembered Sam’s words  ‘when faced with a choice between duty and a woman, always choose the woman!’ I laughed out loud. Briana looked confused, even concerned, when I laughed, but I ignored her as I called my unit to me.
“I want Gabrielus and Samir to scout the perimeter of the town, focus on weaknesses and points of entry. I want Granite and Phoebe to scout the stables. Find out how many horses are housed there. Briana,” I glanced at her, the feeling of having a command by now coming naturally to me, “can you find out how many of the Legio have ever been Thirp hunting?”
I was most interested in how Briana would react. She looked at me and smiled. “Of course,” was all she said. And with that, she briskly strode away. The rest of my unit also disappeared as I began to form the initial constructs of a plan in my mind.
Briana returned shortly. “There are at least ten who’ve been Thirp hunting, plus of course each of the Gemini, making sixteen,” she relayed to me. After speaking, she came closer, so close that when she spoke, I was again the only person that could hear her. “Michael, I do not advise deviating from the mission. We will incur casualties and it will delay us!” She paused again. “You cannot be blinded by your loyalty to your friends; I am aware that you grew up in Cordillero; I understand those are people you knew; I realize your first love still resides there, but Michael, this is not wise.”
I nodded, wondering how she knew so much of my history, but my mind was made up. I was going with my instincts and in doing so, I was making one of the boldest decisions of my early life. “We will engage the Sanguinis and liberate the human prisoners.”
Once the remainder of my unit had returned, with information as to the Sanguinis’ positions and numbers, I immediately ordered all Legio into battle groups. This was a standard infantry tactic  putting the men into two-man teams.
“Mission has changed,” I said as authoritatively as I could to all within earshot. I stared out at the team leaders who had assembled here in the deep forest. “Mission has changed,” I repeated forcefully. “We are the Legio, Mankind’s protectors, and there are men and women that need our help.” As I addressed the team leaders, my thoughts kept shifting to Emily and this made me doubt my course of action, making me wonder whether my judgment had been impaired. Then the line from Sam returned. ‘Choose the woman always’ repeated over and over, and I laughed out loud. The soldiers must have seen the look on my face for I heard some rumblings, but Briana spoke to break the tension.
“It is good that our leader finds the Sanguinis a laughing matter,” she said.
There was a murmur from the team leaders and it was lighthearted and I knew that I had them. “Okay,” I began, “we go in as follows.” Thereafter, I detailed the attack plans. There would be a number of units (or fireteams as we called them) coming from the north  their job was to engage the Sanguinis  while a second team, after having commandeering the horses from the stables, and while on horseback, would engage the Sanguinis from the south.
“The teams coming from the north will gather themselves into a wedge formation to avoid surprise from the flanks.” And here I stopped as I looked out at the team leaders, “my unit, consisting of fifteen, those with experience riding and shooting from horses - the Thirp hunters if you will,” and here the group laughed, “will engage the Sanguinis from the south. Now, I need extra bracers to put on the horses so they can survive the first volley of fire. I expect it will be intense once they see us coming.” I chuckled as I looked out at the 15-20 unit leaders in front of me. “And once the Sanguinis are defeated and we secure the village, let’s set a perimeter and check on our kin inside.” I paused, still studying those in front of me, and I saw eager eyes, confident looks and I knew I had them - they believed in me. “Let’s go,” I said with conviction.
Within minutes, the soldiers were moving toward their pre-designated positions. We had agreed upon specific times, tied to the GPS of Ptolemy, for the attacks. Briana had coordinated these. When the times were met, that was our signal to move. I was nervous, my palms wet, maybe sweaty, though it just as easily could have been the rain, a steady and depressing drizzle having continued from the moment of landing to the present, and I caught my right leg shaking, as if I had drank a bottle of Bacca recently. Yes, I was nervous. This was first combat but it was more than that  it was combat to save Emily, a combat that more appropriately was an attempt to save everything she represented  memories of childhood, of my mother, and of my friends. Was Emily in the Town Hall? Was she dead? Was she being tortured by the animal Sanguinis? I felt an anger rise in me that I had not felt in years. I recalled the moment when I had confronted Finnegan, the uncontrollable rage that had overcome me as I viciously beat my opponent that day; I recalled the moment with the Cabrasian soldiers in the Subway, the fire burning inside of me as I fought for my life; and I recalled the candidate testing with Varus, the mind-numbing madness overwhelming me as I pummeled a soldier of the Legio Gemini. Yes, those were instances where my fury had transformed me into something else, and made me stronger. Was that happening now? I realized that I needed to stay in control, and though a difficult task, I was now older and wiser. For a moment, I considered whether my emotions were blinding me, and whether I was needlessly sending these soldiers to their deaths for no reason other than personal aggrandizement? Was this folly? Maybe. I smiled, a thin smile it was, as I realized that my moment was now, and whether right or wrong, it was too late to turn back.
I could not say for certain how the units led by Briana moved, but I recall seeing my group traverse the distance from the forest rally point to the stables professionally and quietly. As we reached the stables, we were close enough to see the center of the town, although it was still some distance away. I felt an immediate joy at seeing my old home, remembrances of childhood returning once more. I breathed deeply and as I did, I looked to my side and saw Gabrielus peering at me strangely, her head tilted just a bit, almost as if worried. She smiled.
“We need you, Michael. Stay in control,” she whispered.
By now, we were fifty meters from the stables and still there had been no sighting of the enemy. I took the lead, with Gabrielus at my right hip and Samir at my left, each defending a flank. I came in from the back of the stables, through an open door, wildly peering about. Still no one. I stepped inside and glanced around, Gabrielus and Samir close behind. The horses neighed but the whistle of the wind and sound of driving rain drowned out their voices. Within minutes, we had secured the entire stable, not one Sanguinis in sight, and the perimeter was guarded as we gathered the horses for the ride. Quickly, each of us placed a bracer around the ankle of a horse, a bracer whose sole purpose was to provide temporary shielding to the creature as we rode them into the Sanguinis’ ranks. We needed the horses to survive until we were close enough to engage the enemy on foot. It did not take long for us to gather our small coterie, a combination of fifteen ordinary Legio and Gemini, on this most ancient of beasts. And then we were ready for the ride of our lives, a ride into the heart of an intractable and deadly foe. Two soldiers stood guard as we moved the horses out behind the stables and waited. Lightning blazed, providing a momentary glimpse of an old paved road, soaking wet, with the pitter patter of rain drops striking pooled water. I looked at my bracer to gauge the time, the rain pelting my face, my rifle in my left hand cocked and ready for action. We were no more than thirty seconds from our pre-arranged time, though I knew the true trigger was the first explosions, the result of an immense volley of grenades to the perimeter Sanguinis positions by Briana’s group.
I had spent six years of my life training and learning how to become a warrior, in addition to all the years training my body and my mind with Sam and then Jericho before that; I was ready for this fight, or at least as ready as anyone could be. I took a last whiff of the surrounding area and realized it smelled bad, not like I remembered my hometown to smell  before it had been fresh and invigorating, but now, it smelled like a sewer. My anger came to a boil, as I realized we were fighting savage, despicable evil. There really was no other way to describe the Sanguinis and everything they represented; funny how the smell rendered this clear in my mind.
Throughout the night, we had heard the incessant clap of thunder accompanied by the sudden glow of the sky around us by lightning. As my horse neighed in the night, I spied the wreck of an apricot tree; it stood up proud in the night, dark and destroyed, its trunk split down the center, its cloven halves not entirely broken from each other, for the firm base and strong roots kept them un-sundered underneath, though its life was waning and its existence all but over. The great boughs on its sides were dead, and the next storm might fell the great tree, or the storm after that, but as yet it survived, in ruin, to decay in place, proud, its days numbered, and its vitality sapped. I thought of the world of men, of Sam’s pronouncements regarding the decay of the Celestial City, of the sermon by Sandis Archeus regarding the impending fall of our culture, and of the lessons provided by the prickly Dr. Ramelais odd thoughts to consider on this faraway world far from the center of the Galaxy, but appropriate I realized in light of the moment. We were fighting for our souls.
Suddenly, I heard the blasts and I knew first combat was upon us. I nudged my horse’s ribs and it neighed before turning the corner of the stables and onto the main concrete roadway, coming to a full sprint within seconds. Behind me, I assumed the fifteen riders of my small brigade were following closely. I saw the light from more explosions as we traversed the short two kilometer distance between the stables and the Town Hall. As we furiously made our way toward the Town Hall, Sanguinis forces, weapons in hand  who had previously been streaming toward the south and Briana’s invading group  turned toward us. They were gathering themselves for our approach, and had quickly assumed fortified positions. As we drew closer, they began firing in our direction . I felt the whoosh of power gun slugs, hundreds per second, all around me  some passing by on either side of me, some striking my bracer shielding and bouncing harmlessly away, and others penetrating my energy shielding and striking my ablative armor. But we were not defenseless, as we too fired at the enemy from our moving steeds, pelting the Sanguinis positions with hundreds upon hundreds of slugs ourselves. I discerned that some Sanguinis soldiers fell as their shields failed, the sheer onslaught overwhelming their technologies.
The screams of fallen men and alien Sanguinis echoed through the town square, a sound that would reverberate in my ears for eternity, drowning out the noise of the storm around us. I knew that some Legio had died but there was no time to stop and look, or to even consider what was happening.
Suddenly, my horse dropped and I catapulted off its back onto the hard concrete, landing roughly on my chin, though I was fortunate enough to get a hand in front to soften the impact, this fact alone probably single handedly saving my jawline from permanent damage. I lay stunned on the ground for only a second, trying to regain my footing, realizing that my steed had been struck and killed, thereby throwing me from it. I raised myself, then almost fell, my balance unsteady, my head woozy from the fall, before I heard more power gun discharges. Seconds later, the impacts of slugs were striking my shielding, most bouncing to the side harmlessly, but some penetrating and hammering at my ablative armor. The impact from the slugs threw me from my feet again, this time backwards, though my armor held, saving my life as intended. I was being pummeled, and I knew I had to get cover before my armor ultimately failed, as it most certainly would. I rolled to one side, not really knowing where I was going. Everything was happening too fast. For a second, I wondered about my companions, but that thought passed as I heard numerous power gun discharges and then slugs were again striking my energy shield. I leapt behind a wall, finally finding momentary respite from the onslaught that was aimed upon me.
I lay leaning against the side of a building, taking inventory of my senses. My hand was scraped, my chest hurt, and my chin was sore  but otherwise I felt okay, though unsteady. The sounds of battle, of death, and of anguish were all around me. They were sounds that would echo down through the years, sounds and visions I would never forget. These were images that were neither glorious nor epic, but rather gruesome and sickening. Over time, and over the course of the many battles I would see, my senses would become hardened to these images, though I could never completely desensitize myself.
I reached for my rifle, thinking it was at my side, but it was not. I glanced around, explosions periodically lighting the landscape, but I could not find it, realizing that when I had been thrown from my horse, I must have dropped my rifle too. I reached for my quarterstaff, the otherworldly weapon, a weapon I believed to have been constructed outside the time and space of this existence. As I stood, it elongated, and I felt the Power coursing through my veins. I felt strong and rejuvenated, my petty injuries melting away in the warm glow of adrenaline that encompassed me. I peered around the corner and I saw, for the very first time in real life, a Sanguinis up close. A small contingent of these creatures, these human dopplegangers, were approaching my position, maybe six in total, rifles raised and ready, looking for enemy to engage. Up to this moment, I have not taken the time to describe what a Sanguinis looks like. I will do so now.
They were creatures that, in stature and look, parroted humanity, for they were us, the distinction being their imposing musculature, blazing and bulbous red eyes, and carnivorously sharp teeth. The sharp teeth gave them the look of monsters. They varied in height, some taller than others, like humans, and they were all male. Their skin color was a yellowish color, almost as if jaundiced, giving the impression of sickness. As I studied these creatures, another gigantic explosion rocked the area nearby. I closed my eyes as debris struck all around me, and then as I opened my eyes, a body landed near my position. It was a lifeless body, a body of a dead Legio, eyes still wide open with blood draped over the man’s forehead. I cringed as I raised myself and quickly peered around the corner. To my surprise, the six Sanguinis were gone, blown to smithereens apparently, and a cloud of smoke floated where they had been. As if in a dream, horses came galloping through the smoke, in my direction, with Gabrielus leading the way!
I leapt from my hiding spot and waved my arms. She smiled as she came toward me.
“Michael!” She exclaimed as she dropped from her horse. “It goes so well,” she said as she embraced me.
I frowned at this unusual scene, wondering how it could be going so well. I saw bodies littered everywhere, the town was in shambles and the planet was under alien control. These thoughts drifted away like the wind as she hugged me tighter. “I thought you were gone,” she muttered.
It was then that I heard the scream, the howl if you will, a howl that I would hear more than once in the course of my long life. I stopped, frozen for a second, and I am certain those around me did too, for we were hearing the piercing howl of a Frank, one of the most frightening sounds in the known Universe.
“Courage,” I murmured, and then realizing that I had whispered the words, I turned my heads to those around me. “Courage!” As I spoke the words, I recited to myself the prayer taught me by Briana some years back … do not falter or be afraid, for I am not really alone, I am surrounded by invisible forces that will assist me. I repeated the words over and over in my mind and as I did so, I felt emboldened.
I looked forward and I saw two Franks, imposing creatures they were, hovering on the edge of my vision. Having by now emerged from the Town Hall, I saw that their staves were elongated and held firmly in their jaundiced yellow hands. They were ready for combat, apparently aware by now that their mortal foes, the Gemini, stood close. They howled again, a sound that evoked terror to all nearby, as they rose tall in the midst of the death and destruction around them. These were the greatest warriors the Sanguinis had to offer, the genetically manipulated soldiery meant to mimic and match the Highborn Lords of yore. They were the most feared of the Sanguinis soldiery, so feared that standard Gemini tactics required three Gemini to one Frank; otherwise, battle was to be avoided … but we were three. What to do? Quickly, I spoke.
“Gabrielus and Samir, engage the Frank to my left. I will engage the one to the right.”
“No! We must fall back until the remaining Gemini arrive. This is insanity.” Yelled Gabrielus. “Briana, Granite and Phoebe will be here shortly.”
“No time!” I said as the creatures, almost as tall as me, approached rapidly. Their lips were pulled back into a drooling snarl, revealing a row of razorlike teeth, and at this point the Frank howled again. I do not know what overcame me, a foolish arrogance that only a youth might possess, or possibly a quiet confidence, I cannot say for sure, but I instinctively leapt toward the Frank to the right, momentarily surprising it. Above, lightning and thunder struck, giving the battlefield a macabre setting. My vision, however, was completely focused upon my opponent, my pulse pounding like a drum and my adrenaline peaked to maximum overdrive. By now, I was tuning out the horrendous Frank howls. Perhaps I was losing my mind, losing all sense of perspective, for I was engaging a Frank on my own, dueling a monster from childhood fairy tales, engaging a creature that we soldiers were not supposed to engage alone, but somehow we were here in this moment together, on a planet most likely fallen and in a situation most certainly desperate.
As my quarterstaff swung with fury down upon the creature, I felt confident and sure of myself, but these emotions would be fleeting, for as we dueled, the tenacity and skill of my opponent became clear, forcing me to relentlessly cede ground. I had trained years for a moment such as this, for a chance of combat against Mankind’s greatest tormentor, for an opportunity to face one of the greatest warriors the Universe had ever seen, and the dream had become a reality, or a nightmare depending on your perspective. And here I was, inexorably being defeated, each blow, each step, each maneuver moving me backwards. To my left, I perceived that Samir and Gabrielus were themselves struggling to contain the mighty beast facing them, but I had no time to worry of their plight.
I re-engaged the Frank in front of me, and for a moment I thought the monster smiled in my direction. The moment passed as the beast viciously struck again, then again, yet I was able to parry the attacks, but barely. I suddenly felt despair, realizing that this reality was not a pleasant one for it was becoming obvious that I could not forever manage the attacks  the creature was too fast and too strong. It struck repeatedly, and I parried repeatedly, but at this point I was not even considering counter-attacks, merely hoping for survival. Suddenly, I felt humor at the situation. How odd of me to think I could handle a Frank single-handedly? How stupid of me to send Gabrielus and Samir to their certain deaths, and all for what? For a mission we were not even supposed to have been on. Why had I done it? The answer was obvious. It was because I was arrogant and I had always been so. It was because I was a child with an ego to match the rising sun. Damn, I thought to myself as my anger grew.
The time for self-reflection passed quickly as the Frank continued to press its advantage, but somehow I was able to continue parrying its attacks. As the combat extended, I gained a sense that frustration was setting in for my opponent, and that’s when I heard Samir cry nearby, perceiving that he had fallen. Urgency overcame me and then something changed. I am not sure what happened, but time seemed to slow, slowing as I felt the Power flow through me, through the quarterstaff in my hands, through the amulet around my neck, and I felt like the King of the World. Suddenly, I was no longer retreating, and then the Frank was falling backwards, and for a second, I thought I saw shock behind its devil-red eyes. It was at that point that I knew I had the advantage. My opponent was now moving like an amateur, slowly and as if drunk on ale. I attacked quickly, blow after mind-numbing blow as the Frank staggered backwards, barely retaining the ability to deflect my maneuvers. Then it was over, a quick blow to its head, then to the body, and then I spun as I struck the creature in the lower back, it falling forward, its quarterstaff dropping from its hands. The Frank was on its knees now, not believing what had occurred, its eyes revealing shock. With one last and mighty blow, I struck its head and saw its red blood, the blood of a man once, spurt out as the Frank died. I struck it again, not quite believing that the monster was defeated, and then again, harder this time, my anger flowing through me  its head coming clean off. I towered over the dead creature for only a second before realizing that Gabrielus and Samir needed help.
I looked around and saw her retreating, about fifteen meters away, barely fending off the imposing monster’s strikes. I glanced quickly to a body on the ground, and I saw Samir writhing in pain, but at least he was still alive. With a speed I had never exhibited before, I leapt toward the Frank, engaging it as Gabrielus fell back, apparently exhausted and thankful that her ordeal was concluded. As I met the creature, I struck it numerous times before it could even lift its quarterstaff in defense and it fell dead. Cheers and shouts erupted around me, causing me to turn my head, and that is when I saw the other Sanguinis in full retreat, running from the town center with Legio close behind. Victory was at hand. And then I collapsed in exhaustion, as if finally coming down from a drug-induced high, falling to my knees. I felt an arm on me, preventing me from falling flat in my face  it was the beautiful Gabrielus, my Gemini unit-mate and companion. “You will be a legend,” she said gloriously as she propped me up.
Cheers continued to echo through the camp. We had won. Lightning struck, revealing a terrain littered with bodies, both human and Sanguinis, with two decapitated Franks acting as the centerpiece of the carnage. By now, men and woman were streaming from the Town Hall, running toward the Legio, hundreds of them it appeared. Some were hugging the soldiers, while others were wailing in despair. I saw Briana and she was giving orders. Everything seemed chaotic. By now, I was sitting on the ground and in the rain, while next to me was Gabrielus, and she was speaking with me, though I cannot recall what she said. I felt an uncontrollable shaking of my limbs, and my teeth chattered, each of these physical reactions gaining in intensity as I perused the battlefield with its death and disorder everywhere. I felt an almost disbelief as the events had unfolded and now, after the conclusion of the battle, I still could not comprehend what had occurred.
“My lord,” I heard from numerous voices, this repeated over and over again, and I could not be sure whether it was the villagers or the Legio uttering these words. The words were too strange to hear, for I had never considered myself a lord or one to whom such a title should be applied, but here in this moment, that is how others viewed me. I was helped into the Town Hall, the interior reminding me of my youth. Gosh, was I tired, unbelievably tired, as if the combat, the slowing of time, the accessing of the Power, had drained me. I was more tired than I had ever been in my life and all I wanted to do was lay down and close my eyes. But I knew I could not rest. There was more to do.
“Let me go,” I ordered and my voice sounded distant and cold. “I’m fine.” I paused to regain enough strength to speak again. “What is the situation?” I was speaking to Gabrielus.
She looked at me strangely. “Are you okay?” Was all she kept repeating, ignoring my questions. It was then that I saw her, Emily. Emily was walking toward me, with a man of modest height leaning on her shoulder. The man limped severely, as if having suffered a terrible injury to his knees, and as he and Emily approached, they led a seven year old boy by the hand.
“Michael! Michael! Is that you?” Emily exclaimed.
I raised my head, though still seated, and I smiled. As I did, I noticed the look from Gabrielus, a look of irritation and possessiveness all in one, but I paid it no mind as I wearily raised myself. The man on Emily’s shoulder was a classmate from many years ago, a non-descript boy with a positive disposition I recalled, though for the life of me I could not remember his name. I studied the man, for it was him that intrigued me most. He was in working clothes, and looked rugged enough, manly in most respects, and I thought a very fit protector for my dear Emily, though the circumstances of his situation belied that assertion. There was a frankness in his face, an honesty and an undisguised show of pride, pride in being with Emily I suppose, a pride however that had been hammered by the reality of what had recently occurred to him and the other villagers. But I could see the love on his face for the little creature next to him, a creature with whom I had been in love with for the entirety of my existence. Viewing him made me apprehensive for it seemed they were together and had been for some time.
“Emily,” I said. Not knowing what to say next, I spoke lamely. “You are safe.”
She smiled. “I suppose we are.” She looked at the boy by her side. “This is my son,” she began and then she looked at the man leaning on her shoulder, a man who had clearly been injured, his knee blown to smithereens it seemed by a vicious Sanguinis blow I surmised. “And this is my husband.”
My world crashed down upon me. As Emily’s husband reached a hand out to me, I did not hear him introduce himself. I was in shock as I shook his hand. All I could consider was the prospect that Emily had married after I had departed and now she had a son. The enormity of my physical weakness then struck me; but in truth, my worst ailment was an oncoming tide of wretchedness of mind, of emotion, of feeling; a wretchedness that kept me silent, but at the same time prevented tears from coming. Fearful of losing the one and only opportunity I might have of relieving this wretchedness, I, after a disturbed and long pause, smiled, but it was a smile for appearances only. The smile released some of the grief I had been feeling, and fortunately, at just that moment, I spied Briana out of the corner of my eye, someone who had always been an unwelcome sight to me before, acting as a welcome diversion this moment. She approached rapidly, obviously seeking me out.
“Michael, we must move. This is a great victory but there is still much to be done.” Briana did not even acknowledge Emily.
“Briana, this is Emily. She is someone who I grew up with.” I said lamely.
Briana looked at Emily and smiled, a fake smile it was, before addressing me. “We must leave the village and join the battle. Our comrades are in desperate need of aid. I have just received word that the Command Center will fall before the night is done if we do not act.”
“The Command Center?” Asked Emily as she looked at Briana and then at me. “You need to get inside?” She asked.
Briana remained quiet as she looked at me.
“I can get you to the grate. Remember the cave entrance and the small lake from which we exited. Well, I’ve been back there and I’ve explored even further. If you get past the grate, it leads to another cave, down another path, through the Hall of Giants, and eventually to a metal door. It’s a bit of a slog, through a maze of tunnels, and the door is hidden, camouflaged if you will, but it’s there. I can take you to it quickly.
I frowned. Briana looked at Emily. She raised her palm and suddenly a three dimensional depiction of tunnels and pathways appeared. “This is the map I have that leads to the secret entrance to the Command Center. Is this what you are referring to?”
Emily looked at the three dimensional impression in front of her, a creation from the quantum computer implanted in Briana’s bracer. She stared at it for what seemed like minutes. “Yes, I think this is the cave entrance from which Michael and I exited many years ago,” she said as she pointed to one tunnel entrance, running her dainty fingers in the air following the pathway, “and it leads down here to the grate, and then past the grate to another cavern and down here,” she was pointing, ” is the door.”
Briana smiled. “Great. Tell us how to get there.”
Emily chuckled. “I think I need to go with you. In this weather, you’ll never find it, not even with Michael after all these years.”
I was surprised to see Briana nod. “Then off we go. Let’s pack up and depart. There is no time to spare.”
XIX
THE TUNNEL RATS
I was affected by seeing Emily again. How far my emotions were influenced by the recollections of my childhood, I am uncertain. Whether I had engineered things in such a manner so that I returned to Cordillero, with any lingering fancy that I was still in love with Emily, well, I was sure of it by now - my actions had confirmed it. I know that I was filled with pleasure by seeing her; though, this pleasure become a depression of sorts when I learned that she was married and had a child. These were the only thoughts I could think of after having been introduced to her husband, a man whose name I will never remember, which is unfortunate for he was a good man and good father - better than I would ever be in my long life. After our introduction, Emily had departed with Briana to discuss the next phase of our journey, a journey into the bowels of the mountains and to the Command Center, a journey whose sole purpose was to engage the progressing Sanguinis forces and stop their advance.
Gabrielus seated me on a bench, feeding me food and drink in an effort to rehabilitate my depleted limbs. She spoke but I did not listen, and though I fear this irritated and troubled her to no end, I did not have the energy to really care. My eyes and gaze would constantly drift, and as if drawn by a magnet, I would always come to focus on Emily, now seated next to Briana, a most beautiful little creature she was, with her cloudless blue eyes that had gripped me when we were children, her petite hands and perfectly contoured facial features. To me, she was the most wonderful being in the world, and whether this was nostalgia of times past or myth making in my mind, I suppose I will never really know. These memories were flooding my entire consciousness, and I felt my eyes grow moist, causing me to clench my teeth in an effort to avoid from crying. My thoughts of joy, however, always returned to the fact that she was married and that she had a child. I chewed on the food provided by Gabrielus, slowly and inexorably, without joy or pleasure of any kind. In my desolation, I began to consider that I was dreadfully in love with Emily and had been torn from her many years ago by circumstances beyond my control, only to come back here in a time of death and destruction. Though I had become her savior, this mattered little, if at all. Her life was different, beyond the point where I could be a meaningful part of it anymore, and this saddened me to no end.
I took a sip of the Tumblr, remembering that this drink had saved me the last time I had been in the depths of despair, in those moments when I had journeyed through the underbelly of the Ptolemy mountain range alone, reading from Sandis Archeus’ Record of Ancient Matters, practicing my Katas, and floating down an underground river to my perceived salvation. As the liquid touched my lips, it brought life back into focus. I heard voices, some shouting, some wailing of children, as well as the screams of pain from the injured, though pockets of laughter could be heard on occasion in a corner of the Hall - the gamut of human expression and emotions was represented. The laughter brought a smile to my features, for I realized that it could not have happened if not for our actions this very night. I stood, my legs shaky, but strong enough to propel me to Briana’s location. She was no longer conversing with Emily, who had departed, but was now speaking with Granite and Phoebe.
“What is the status?” I asked.
Briana smiled. “Back amongst the living?” she jibed. “It takes some time for the body to come down from a Power high. I expect that is what you are going through right now.”
I nodded, thoughts of Samir suddenly coming to me, my last vision of him being an inert body on the ground. “How is Samir?” I asked.
Briana frowned. “Both knees shattered. It will require reconstructive surgery, something which cannot be provided to him right now.”
I nodded, by now familiar with the Sanguinis’ method of not killing male humans; instead, maiming their legs so as to eliminate them as immediate threats but preserve them for later conversion. I cringed at the thought.
“Our casualties?” I asked.
“Twenty two Legio dead, and many injured.”
“How many can come with us?”
Briana frowned again. “Some cannot travel because of their injuries. I would expect fifteen.”
I nodded. “What about the town folk?”
“Over four hundred in the Hall. More have been coming after news of our victory spread throughout the valley. I would say there are roughly six hundred gathered close by, with ever more arriving.”
“What is the plan for them?” I prodded.
Briana crinkled her eyebrows and smiled. “There is no plan for them.”
This bothered me. I knew we needed to do something, to protect these people over the coming week until the planet was retaken. I’ve always had a strong sense of justice, from my days protecting Charley from Finnegan, and all through my short life up to that moment, and even today. Everything has always been black and white for me; I had always felt it important to protect others, and I had never shirked from the hard work associated with protecting those weaker than me, though it irritated me. The choice was obvious to me though not obvious to anyone else.
“Have all the ordinary Legio, with Samir in charge, lead these people into the hills - put Samir on a horse if necessary. These mountains are littered with caves where they can take shelter. Our unit will descend to the Command Center.” I turned away from Briana, wishing to go back to my resting place, exhaustion seeming to overcome me once more.
As I walked away, a warm hand was placed on my shoulder. I stopped and turned to see Briana. She had followed me. “May I have a word with you in private?”
I nodded.
Soon, we were seated in a private room within the Town Hall, facing each other. I opened my palms toward her, as if to encourage her to speak. She did not disappoint,
“Michael, Sam was right. You did have it in you.” She smiled. “He always has had faith in you. Your handling of the Franks was impressive, in fact, more than impressive, it will become legendary.” She smiled again. Though I knew I should not let affect me, I felt a warmth flow through me, the platitudes and complements reinvigorating my entire being. “But, you are young, and naďve … you must trust my judgment on this. I think you are loyal and principled, but this is not the time to be principled. This is the time to be calculating and tactical.” She frowned. “We never should have taken this detour. We have revealed ourselves and have taken significant casualties. In addition, we are now saddled with six hundred refugees. Michael, I implore of you to look at this strategically and not emotionally. We must leave the villagers to fend for themselves, take whatever strength we have, and enter the mountain to engage the advancing Sanguinis.”
I nodded, her words true to the core, but there was something lacking in them. They lacked empathy; they lacked principle; in short, they lacked compassion. I looked at her and spoke.
“It is good that Sam’s faith in me has been warranted so far, and it is probably true that I am naďve in the ways of war, as well as in the ways of tactics and strategy, but I think I bring a perspective that is missing. These are our people and they are in danger. We cannot leave them to the Sanguinis undefended.” I leaned forward. “I propose that the Legio soldiers, both injured and healthy, led by Samir, head for the mountains. They can begin by dawn and be safe by evening. If our scouts are correct, there are no Sanguinis in the valley. The villagers will be safe. The remainder of our unit, plus Emily who can guide us to the Command Center, will enter the catacombs tonight.”
Briana frowned. “Noble, but we need the bodies with us. If we fail, the planet falls.” She paused. “You may not be aware but the group of Franks approaching the Command Center is led by Polemarch Yeqon. Michael, that is no ordinary Frank, but one the Lords of their kind, a fallen Highborn Lord! We need everyone we can muster.”
My mind, however, had been made up. I peered at Briana, her good looks mesmerizing, but not to the point of changing my decision in any meaningful way. “Am I in charge?” I asked.
Briana looked down before mumbling. “Yes.”
“Then it is settled.”
We parted company thereafter and I did not speak to her for some time, my exhaustion overcoming me. Nevertheless, I took the time to walk the center of the village around the Town Hall. Many greeted me, saluting me in the Gemini way, while others stared at me, the signs of hero worship evident on their faces. Some locals approached me, thanking us for our help, and then proceeding to wonder what was to happen next. I saw others I had known many years ago, briefly conversing with Sentius Ceres and his wife, how old and small he now seemed - the complete opposite of how I remembered him. I encountered others I had known, and many more who claimed to have known me but of whom I had no recollection. I looked for Charlie but he was gone, though I did find his parents. The mother was weeping at the base of a wood fence, where a crowd was in the process of removing bodies that had been nailed by the ears to the side of a wood building, having been hung there by the Sanguinis - the type of thing you would never imagine could happen in this world had in fact happened in Cordillero. I only stayed long enough to recognize Charley’s father hung up against the wall, with a number of others. They had been the initial examples, probably chosen randomly to instill terror in the human population. I turned away, the grotesque scene too much to bear.
I walked away, not wishing to view this horror, not wishing to confront Charley’s mother, who had been one of my mother’s best friends when I had grown up. People talk sometimes of bestial cruelty, but that’s a great injustice and insult to the beasts; a beast can never be so cruel as our enemy, so artistically cruel, these human dopplegangers. I did not feel fury, but sadness that a version of reality such as this could in fact exist. I saw nearby the horses that had survived the attack, and I knew that no animal, not even the cruelest animal in the Galaxy the Thirp, could ever think of nailing people by the ears, even if they were able to do so. These Sanguinis took a pleasure in torturing mankind; cutting the unborn child from the mother’s womb I knew from the stories of them, and tossing babies up in the air and catching them on the points of their quarterstaffs before their mothers’ eyes. Doing it before the mothers’ eyes was what gave zest to the amusement. Morosely, I realized that we had created the Sanguinis in our own image.
With these thoughts, utter exhaustion set in. I returned to the Hall and found a place to lay on the floor for a couple of hours, the bustle around me not affecting my ability to sleep. When I woke, I woke to see that the villagers, for the most part, had been organized into groups, with Legio assigned to the groups. They were, by now, rounding up horses for the villagers and for their supplies, as well as drawing up plans to depart, with designs of leaving by daybreak. I approached Samir, who was laid up, both his knees wrapped in bandages. He smiled as he saw me coming.
“Michael, I thought you might drop by.” I reached him and leaned over so as to embrace him.
“How goes it?”
“It goes well, though,” and now he paused, a sad disposition obvious by his features, “I am sorry that I cannot accompany you.”
I said nothing but nodded.
“But I understand I would be an impediment. I will gladly lead the villagers to the caves and we shall hide until the planet is retaken.”
I smiled as I embraced him again, departing with only a grin, before seeking out my unit. They were outside, already armored, gathered around three horses, loitering near a makeshift heater. The rain, by now, had stopped, thought the evening was still a gloomy one  dark, dank and cold.
“Michael,” said Granite. “Has sleep made you well?” Everyone laughed. I could only laugh with them. “We are waiting for you. Get ready and pack so we can depart. I was about to wake you but Briana said you needed your sleep or you would be useless to us all.” They all laughed again, and for some reason it stung, the thought that I had slept while the others had prepared bothering me.
It did not take long for me to gear up, obtaining another rifle, making sure my shielding was operational after the beating it had endured, ensuring that my bracer functioned properly -these were the tasks I achieved. I had my backpack filled with supplies, and then I was ready. It was decided we would take three horses into the hills, with each horse bearing two riders. I took Emily as I was the largest and she was the smallest, and though this made sense, I could see the irritation and anguish in Gabrielus’ eyes. I ignored it, a coldness toward my companion of the last couple of years overcoming me. I observed myself, as if out of body, and I saw a cold man, generous and kind in the abstract, but cold and hard in person - I did not like myself at that moment. Briana gave last instructions to Samir and the remaining Legio before we departed, realizing that there was little else we could do. They were on their own, but they were capable and had a good plan. It had been decided that Sentius Ceres, Emily’s father, would provide guidance as to the location of the larger caverns where the villagers could hole up.
Soon, we were galloping from town, Legio and villagers alike watching as we departed, no one really sure where we were going, but apprehensive at the thought of losing the only Gemini in the vicinity. I felt Emily acutely, as she had her arms clasped around my stomach, holding tight as our horse sped up the roadway and into the hills. She had her chin on my shoulder so she could see. Though her instructions had already been imparted, it was important that she keep an eye out, for the weather, darkness and uniformity of the forest around us made it difficult to know precisely where we were going.
We rode in silence for some time, alongside a paved pathway parallel to the river, before the crack of thunder, followed by lightning playing with the clouds overhead, broke the monotony. I felt soft hands running through my hair as the rain began pelting us, and this soothed my frayed nerves. I inhaled the air around me, a pungent odor of the loamy soil from the forest all around us, having by now replaced the sewer-like smell of the Sanguinis. It was ironic that in the midst of this storm, I found the ride blissful. I cannot explain why other than to say Emily was with me and I was home.
Emily tapped my shoulder, a clear signal to stop. We had been riding for twenty minutes, and we had been moving at a rapid pace. I raised my right hand and we halted, the rain continuing to pelt our small group. Emily whispered in my ear, telling me that we needed to veer east. Briana brought up her three dimensional map from the quantum computer on her bracer, and we compared Emily’s advice with the terrain map. They did not mesh and it did not seem to make much sense, but we decided to go with Emily’s recommendations. As we ascended deeper into the mountains, and off the beaten path, the horses slowed to a walk, the pathway by now becoming narrow and steep. Soon, we stopped, dismounting from our steeds, for they could go no further.
I whacked my horse on the side and she departed the way we had come. From there, the trip became a high wire walk alongside the cliff edge, and as we traversed the pathway, my recollections of this route from my youth returned. Emily stopped at a small ledge against the rocky mountain, and I could see collapsed dirt on top of a cave opening. This was our entrance. I remembered it. Though wet and muddy already, the process of digging out the opening made it even worse. Soon, I was filthy beyond belief, the rain dripping from my hair onto my face, but I knew that we needed to continue for the fate of Ptolemy and its inhabitants might rest on our mission. I entered first, sliding on my stomach like a snake through the small opening, the mud grinding against my front side, wet dirt on my face. As I progressed, crawling on my stomach, I dug with my hands, the mud easily coming away, making a path. It was about ten meters of this before the space in front of me opened into a large cave tunnel. I squirmed upright, cleaning as much mud as I could off of me, before stepping into a dark tunnel, but though dark, there was a greenish glow emanating from the walls. I remembered it well from my last sojourn through the underground caves many years before. My compatriots followed close behind, and soon we were all cleaning ourselves off with the few towels we had brought, and taking sips of our Tumblr.
Few words were exchanged as we began moving again, running actually, for we felt the urgency of the moment, soon reaching the underground lake I remembered from my childhood. I immediately spied the grate on the other side of the lake, with water pouring out of it. Emily pointed toward the grate. “There it is,” she exclaimed. “It’s loose under and you can move the metal a bit out of the way so you can squirm underneath and through. Then we can start crawling up the pathway until we reach another chamber. The chamber is a small area, with numerous additional pathways departing from it. I have been through most of them. One particular pathway leads to another cavern, and in that cavern, the Hall of Giants, we will find the metal door I spoke of before.”
I glanced over at Briana who was examining a three dimensional schemata of the interior of the mountain, again from her bracer. She glanced at me and smiled. “This looks right.” She smiled even more deeply before continuing. “Emily has saved us a lot of time, but the Infinite Ladder yet awaits us!”
The Infinite Ladder, I wondered. What was that? But I did not feel the need to verbalize my thoughts, and though I was certain my compatriots had the same considerations, they did not either. Emily, without waiting, leapt into the lake. This made me chuckle as I remembered how she had done this before. I followed suit, quickly swimming to the grate, which was a half a meter above the water line, with streams of water pouring out from it. Below the grate, there was a small empty space, and it was obvious that before there had been dirt in the spot. Someone had removed the dirt. Emily wriggled her way into the opening, water streaming down upon her, and then she crawled inside and up the narrow tunnel. I followed, assuming that the rest of my unit would do the same. Before I did, I removed the dagger from my boot, holding it firmly in my left hand as I hung my Power Rifle over my shoulder. In close quarters, I knew the dagger would be most effective, if necessary.
I crawled up the tunnel, tracing Emily’s steps, never letting her get too far ahead of me, wondering the entire time whether it was wise to let her lead the way. As I crawled behind her, the water slammed into me, trying to drive my body backwards. We struggled, like fish swimming upstream, for some time, the tunnel making odd turns. The passage we were traversing was not cut in a straight line, with some of the turns angled at 60 degrees while others were at 120 degrees. I wondered if the rest of my unit noticed this, for it was obvious to me that shooting in the tunnel would be impossible; this thought alone made me glad I had my dagger firmly grasped in my left hand - it was the dagger that Sam had given to me many years ago! It was a long sloping tunnel, sloping upwards, leading - according to Emily - to a small chamber.
Eventually, Emily stopped, glancing back at me, her features a blur in the dark and dank confines of the tunnel, water splashing against her back and then by her, rushing down to strike me before cascading into the remainder of our group. We were tunnel rats, that’s what I felt like, squirming our way through areas not meant for human movements. Emily smiled and she pointed ahead. I peered beyond her small figure and saw an obvious opening, which appeared to be covered. She glanced back at me and motioned with her head to the tunnel opening, which appeared to be covered with a metal sheathing of some form or another. I smiled toward her as I grabbed her ankles, implying that I should pass. She nodded as I pulled myself past her. It was tight, though the closeness to her was satisfying. She giggled as I slid past her, though the giggle changed to a frown when she saw the dagger that I held in my hand.
I sighed as I readied myself, not pausing very long, as I pushed the metal sheet forcefully and leapt as best as I could in the chamber above. What I saw was a small and empty room. There was a broken table and some broken chairs in the corner, with old maps attached to the cavern walls. A broken mirror, covered with dirt, hung on one wall. I could also see some shelves and other furniture, all broken and decayed by now, throughout the room. It was no more than twenty meters by twenty meters, obviously a gathering place of sorts. I glanced around for any enemies, or for life of any sort, and when I was sure that there was none, I motioned for the rest of my small group to climb up.
Briana, immediately upon entering, pulled up her three dimensional map from her bracer. “We are close,” she said, “there is a pathway to a cavern, with a river running down the middle, and in that cavern, the Hall of Giants, lies the door to the Infinite Ladder and our ultimate descent to the bowels of the Command Center.”
After she spoke, we all looked around, and we saw three holes in different parts of the walls, each apparently leading somewhere. I frowned. “Which one?” I asked.
Emily laughed, pointing to one particular opening. “That one,” she said confidently.
“Let’s go,” I said, “there’s no time to waste.”
And so we started again, once more acting as tunnel rats, as we continued through the narrow pathways, tunnels apparently leading to a cavern. We were in a labyrinth of sorts, turning sideways sharply, with never any extended periods of straight movement. Sometimes, we would come to forks in the road, but Emily would not hesitate in deciding which route to take. We traveling this way for some time, having passed, by my count, at least five forks in the road. How Emily remembered the route to take, I could never understand.
We crawled for about twenty minutes before Emily stopped, like she had prior to having entered the small chamber previously. She glanced at me again, signaling that we had reached the cavern. Again, I slid by her, our bodies grinding against each other once more, as I approached the opening. This opening was not covered, though water periodically flowed down on top of us, as if from an unseen source.
I stopped at the opening, which was roughly at a 45 degree angle to the surface, making it easier to pass through. My senses were telling me, and had been for some time, that things were not right. I leaned back toward Emily and whispered to her. “What’s up here?”
“It’s a cavern, not too large, with a small river flowing through its middle. We will pop up in a depressed valley-like area, unseen to the rest of the cavern. The water flows into the depressed area, pooling a bit, and then continues down this tunnel.”
I nodded as I pointed for Briana, who had been behind Emily, motioning for Briana to pass Emily. When Briana was close, I spoke.
“I’m going to pop up through the opening just long enough to get a good look, and then drop down. I have a bad feeling about this.”
Briana’s face remained impassive and she said nothing, though I saw she also held a dagger in her hand.
I held my dagger tightly as I readied myself, taking a couple of deep breaths before slowly popping my head out through the opening. I glanced around quickly, water splashing down upon my head in waves, though it was not constant which was good for it allowed me to breathe. I could see little of the entire cavern, for we were in a depression, just as Emily had described, lower in elevation from the rest of the cavern. This was good, for if there were any spying eyes in other parts of the cavern, they would not see us. Glancing upwards, I saw a vaulted ceiling, with stalactites throughout. They were everywhere. I glanced back to Briana and motioned for her to follow. I crawled on my stomach to the edge of our little depression, an area maybe five meters by ten meters, the water engulfing us, slowly ascending to the edge of a small berm. I peered over the berm’s edge to see a large and magnificent grotto.
Looking around the cavern, I remembered how I had always been fascinated by the idea of exploring cave systems, especially big ones, and how Emily and I as children had been so drawn to them. They contained some of the most spectacular rock formations you would ever wish to see, stalactites hung from the ceiling, of varies sizes and shapes, but I also saw stalagmites growing from the floor, reminding me of a mouth, with upper and bottom teeth. Some of the stalactites were huge, hundreds of meters in length. They were truly massive.
As I peered at the ceiling above, Briana leaned over to me .
“This is called the Hall of Giants,” she whispered, motioning with her head toward the ceiling. Then she frowned, her gaze now focused on the far side of the cavern. “Sanguinis.”
This startled me. I peered in the same direction she was gazing, and I saw them. There were about twenty Sanguinis on the far side of the cavern, milling against a cavern wall overgrown with moss. I saw two Franks with them. Just then Emily’s head popped up next to me and she leaned over. “Where those ugly creatures stand is where the doorway lies.”
I frowned as I looked at Briana.
By now, the remainder of our group was leaning up against the berm, examining the cavern. We did this for a couple of minutes, each of us paralyzed by inaction, before Briana motioned for us to slide down back into the depression. We did so, engulfing most of our bodies in water. She spoke.
“We need to get to the wall where the enemy stands. There is no other way inside.”
“But how did they come to be here?’ Asked Granite.
Briana shook her head. “They must have the same maps we do. Let’s hope they do not have the codes. If they do, the Command Center will fall.” She paused. “I see only one option  eradicate them.”
I nodded. “My sense is that it is at least two hundred meters to their position. One group can swim upstream on the river, staying submerged as long as possible. Another group will move along the far wall, stealthily at first, but once discovered, you must sprint.” I paused, looking at my unit, seeing eager yet nervous faces, from Granite, to Phoebe, to Gabrielus and Briana, though it was Briana who seemed the most stoic of us all. I glanced at Emily, realizing that she was not a soldier. “Emily, I suggest you hide in the tunnel and if we are defeated, hide in the chamber below. You have enough food and supplies to last weeks.” I saw her nod. I continued. “Briana and I will swim upstream; our goal will be to engage the Franks. The rest of you will walk the wall, so to speak, until discovered, and eliminate the Sanguinis as quickly as possible so you can assist us with the Franks. Go!”
Granite, Phoebe and Gabrielus immediately began crawling toward the far wall, though I saw Gabrielus glance back at me, obviously irritated again to not be at my side. I smiled in her direction, knowing that the reason I had chosen Briana was that Gabrielus was no match for a Frank. I knew I needed Briana. I next glanced at Emily and smiled again, whispering the words “goodbye” in her direction. She smiled, a forlorn smile it was, for she was uncertain what was going to happen next. I nodded with my head, motioning for her to go. She turned and then quickly scampered down the opening, leaving myself and Briana together.
“So, here we go,” said Briana. “I suppose I am to engage one Frank while you dispatch of the other?”
I nodded. “That’s the plan, ” I said. “Don’t get killed until I can finish mine off.”
Briana bristled at my words, but said nothing as we both removed our rifles from our backs, holding them tight. She then leaned over. “Michael Farmer, if that is your real name,” she chuckled quietly, her face close to mine, her breath sweet and warm, everything about her alluring, “will you please survive until I can finish my Frank off?” There was a touch of arrogance in her tone.
I felt exhilarated by having Briana at my side, exhilarated by having an equal stand alongside me. I glanced back at the opening through which Emily had gone, and then glanced in the direction of Gabrielus, realizing that the two women I had been closest with in my life were near me, accompanied by this third women, the mysterious and attractive Briana. “Let’s go,” I finally uttered.
We made our way up the river, going counter to the flow of the water, our bodies almost completely submerged, only keeping our foreheads barely above the surface. Slowly, we slithered upstream, getting closer and closer to where the Sanguinis had established themselves. They were totally unaware of the approaching danger. When we were about twenty meters from them, all hell broke loose.
Explosions rocked the Sanguinis positions, with stalactites falling down upon the enemy. Brilliant! I thought. Why hadn’t I thought of that? My coterie were firing at the stalactites above, severing them from the ceiling and using them as projectile bombs falling down upon the enemy. By now, bodies were flying everywhere, some Sanguinis crashing into the cavern walls, others flying into the river, landing near us, but some protected from the grenade explosions by their shielding yet nevertheless inundated with rocks from above. Suddenly, the Franks were in action, running at full speed toward the source of the fire, the source of course being the remainder of my unit. I leapt to my feet in the small river, revealing myself, my Power Rifle firing hundreds of rounds per second at the Franks, striking their shields and harmlessly falling to the side, but the firing had accomplished my goal - to get their attention. I rapidly hung my rifle over my shoulder as I grabbed my quarterstaff, the otherworldly weapon elongating as I ran directly toward the approaching Franks. I perceived that Briana did the same. “Go to the one on the right,” she exclaimed. I did.
The combat was engaged, staffs striking staffs, explosions continuing to rock the cavern around us, and the Power flowing through my veins. Like my first encounter with a Frank in the village, I found myself backtracking at first, but this time I was ready for it, and the combat seemed more to my speed. I soon matched the imposing creature blow for blow, its howls bothering me a bit, but not distracting me overtly. For some time, we struggled, before out of nowhere, Briana engaged my opponent, distracting it just long enough to allow for me to deliver the death blow. Wow! I thought. Briana had defeated a Frank herself and then come to MY aid!
Once the Franks were killed, it was an easy matter of dispatching the remaining Sanguinis. Soon, we were seated against the wall and on the ground, tending to ourselves. Granite had a dislocated shoulder and Briana had a long gash across her cheek. Otherwise, we had survived unharmed. I peered across the cavern and saw Emily running toward us. It did not take her long to join our motley crew. She frowned, as if having tasted from a bitter fruit, when she saw the littered bodies of the enemy on the ground. “So much death,” she uttered. Not one of us spoke in response, for we all agreed.
“Let’s go,” Briana said a bit later. “Time runs short. I am receiving reports from the Gemini in the Command Center. The Sanguinis approach. We must join our brethren for a final defense.” Without saying another word, she walked to the wall, feeling her hands against the stone veneer, a stone veneer covered with green moss. She walked the wall for some time, stopping approximately ten meters from our position. “Here,” she said. She reached for her bracer, uttered some numbers that were inaudible to us and waited. It did not take long before the silhouette of a doorway appeared, the doorway then sliding open sideways, like a pocket door, to reveal darkness beyond.
“Let’s go,” she said, “the Infinite Ladder awaits us.”
XX.
OF THE INFINITE LADDER AND POLEMARCH YEQON
The Command Center was not in truth a single room or solitary chamber, but in reality, it was a vast underground city, the average depth of which was approximately five kilometers. The entirety of the Command Center was somewhere between 30 to 35 cubic kilometers in size, created by advanced laser-drilling machines that could drill a tunnel seven kilometers long in one day. The facility went down seven levels, was littered with many secret and hidden entrances, and possessed an advanced underground subway system that ran through a myriad of tunnels below the surface. Now, one might then pose the question: what was one to consider the surface for purposes of determining the facility’s deepest point? For instance, was it at the peak of the great mountain range surrounding the Combre and Cuesta Valleys, or was it at sea level? Well, the answer I would learn that very day, as we descended the Infinite Ladder, was that the ‘surface’ was the level of Lake Combre, and what I further determined was that we were more than one kilometer above Lake Combre. Of course, and to my great chagrin, that meant we had to descend almost six kilometers by ladder before we could reach the bottom of the Command Center!
The Command Center was most often entered through its ‘surface’ entrance where numerous military fortifications and bunkers, each crammed with weaponry and defensive equipment, were connected by secret passages to a sprawling labyrinth of tunnels below ground, tunnels said to be 30 kilometers or more in length. It was through those entrances that the Sanguinis and their leader, the supposed fallen Highborn Lord Yeqon, had entered, slowly and methodically breaking through defense after defense, until they had apparently reached the seventh level, nearest the planetary central node of operations, now only protected by one Gemini unit. We would later learn that all the units that had dropped from orbit by the starships had been annihilated, leaving only my small unit of five, as well as whatever survivors remained underground, as the last line of defense against the Sanguinis advance.
But before we could even get to the seventh level, we needed to descend almost six kilometers via a metal ladder. I peered about and I noticed we had entered a place that was less a chamber than in reality a deep and hollow vertical cylinder, the inside of which was a six kilometer metal shaft. In the very center of the shaft, descending into the darkness below, was a metal ladder, or as more commonly called, the Infinite Ladder. At intervals of approximately one kilometer, horizontal platforms had been placed in the center of the shaft, platforms that were connected by a plank-like walkway, akin to a plank found on the pirate ships of yore, to a blast metal door on the edge of the interior of the cylinder, doorways that would take one into the bowels of the Command Center facility itself. As it were, we were currently standing on one of these outer platforms, having come there through one of these doorways from the Hall of Giants. I strode forward to the edge of the shaft, wary of making a misstep that might plunge me into the oblivion below. I peered over the edge and saw darkness. I glanced ahead, and I saw a walkway, a walkway leading to the Infinite Ladder.
There was some discussion about leaving Emily behind, but we ultimately decided it was safer if we brought her with us in light of the Sanguinis’ surprising appearance in the Hall of Giants. Emily therefore joined our small group as we began the descent into the bowels of the mountain. At Briana’s instruction, we first tied ropes around our waists, attaching them to the ladder, our intent being to use the ropes to rappel our way down to the bottom of the metal shaft. Briana led the way, followed by Phoebe, Gabrielus, Emily, myself and Granite at the top. Soon, we were rappelling down the Infinite Ladder. The journey seemed eternal, but eventually I saw a concrete platform below. We stopped at the platform, resting our tired arms and legs, taking some refreshments, and making small talk. As we did, some of us peered over the edge of the platform, hoping beyond hope that we might see the bottom, but all we saw was the ladder disappearing into darkness. I also saw that a small walkway led from our platform to a metal doorway against the wall.
“Where does that lead?” I asked, pointing to the doorway.
Briana had her three dimensional map out, a holographic image from her bracer. “I think this is the facility’s first level, which has already fallen to the Sanguinis. We need to keep going,” she added, “but first, let’s take a breather.”
We remained in our position for a short period of time, the silence deafening as no one really felt the need or desire to speak. We each knew that we were most likely descending to certain death. I stood after a bit, and carefully strode to the edge of the pad. I glanced upwards, in the direction we had come, and then I glanced downward, in the direction we were going, mesmerized by the hollow shaft. It was a marvel of engineering and I wondered how long it had taken to create. The thought quickly passed. Soon, we were descending again, and once more, after a time, we were taking a break at the second level. We did this a number of times. At each break, Briana would consult her bracer, as if to review messages but she would never say anything other than we needed to move more rapidly.
At one point, Emily asked a question that all of us had been thinking but none of us had posed. “Why isn’t there an elevator or some other form of mechanical transportation to the bottom?”
Briana smiled as she responded. “There is - this just isn’t it.”
We all laughed.
Like this, we descended six kilometers until we reached the bottom, where, upon reaching it, each of us collapsed to the floor. By then, I had a splitting headache, my hands were raw, and my legs were numb from the rappelling. I peered around and saw another metal door, a stainless steel door it appeared, identical to the doors we had seen at each and every level before. No one moved for the door, all of us apparently content to wait for someone else to take the first step, though we had all by now become intensely aware of the door’s presence. It remained this way for five minutes, the only sound to be heard being the breathing of our small group. I opened my backpack and grabbed something to drink, my throat parched. As I refreshed myself, I watched Briana, who was speaking into her bracer, alone, on a corner of the pad. Eventually, she finished and rose, approaching us all.
“The Legio Gemini intend to make their last stand in the maglev tunnel. It is a narrow tunnel where our small force can be most effective. We are going to join with the remaining Gemini and a scattering of troops nearby. Let’s go.”
Briana stepped toward the stainless steel blast door, for that is what it was, and punched in numbers on her bracer. The door slid open, revealing a dimly lit hallway with ceiling lights, leading into infinity. I felt a chill run down my spine as we all stepped into the hallway. Behind us, the blast doors slid shut, the usually quiet sound of the doors closing echoing in the dark chamber, shutting us off from our escape route. Briana removed her quarterstaff as she began walking down the hallway. Each of us followed suit, realizing that we had once more entered into a combat zone. I followed Briana, stepping up so I was adjacent to her, before speaking.
“Do you know where we are heading?
“I’m figuring it out as we go,” she said with not a tinge of humor. I could tell she was nervous.
We walked the dimly lit passageway for some time, before we reached another blast door. Briana stopped at the doorway and sat down. I looked back at the members of my unit behind me, my eyes meeting Granite’s. He raised an inquiring eyebrow but then proceeded to seat himself. I followed suit. We remained seated for about 20 minutes before Briana suddenly leapt to her feet as the blast doors slid open. I saw a tall man, almost as tall as me, standing at the doorway. He smiled when he saw Briana. His smile soon disappeared when he peered behind her to see only five soldiers and Emily.
“This is it!” Exclaimed the man.
Briana smiled. “Thannis. It is a pleasure to see you too. I cannot even begin to relate how difficult it has been to get here.” She reached forward and embraced the man she had called Thannis. Thannis continued to glare at us, an incredulous look plastered to his face.
“This is it?” He repeated.
Briana nodded, though I saw her quickly glance at me, a disapproving manner to her look. I knew what she was thinking, thinking that I had ruined any chance of defending the Command Center facility by my orders to retake Cordillero. I looked down at the ground in the face of her hard stare. Thannis could only shake his head, resignation crossing his features, but he said nothing more on that topic. I sensed in him a deep pessimism, a pessimism that might have crossed into fatalism with our arrival. He had clearly expected a greater force.
“Come,” he uttered morosely as he turned and began walking briskly down the tunnel. Briana turned toward us and smiled, shrugging her shoulders as she began following the man called Thannis.
Once the last of us were through the blast door, they quietly slid shut. We followed Thannis down the long hallway for some time, moving in utter silence. I found it disquieting. We passed doorways on both our right and left, turned down a myriad of passageways, until we finally came to another non-descript blast door. This was obviously our destination. The door slid open, some unseen communication having taken place. Inside was a comfortable chamber, a communications room of sorts, with chairs and tables littered throughout. I saw numerous individuals seated at some of the chairs, each sitting in rapt attention at a computer terminal. There were also many video screens on the walls, depicting live streams from various locations throughout the Command Center. I further observed men and women walking around, though they stopped what they were doing when they saw us enter, filthy as we were. Thannis halted to speak with a shorter man, each of them whispering to the other quickly, before the man resumed his trajectory through the room. Soon, we found ourselves in another chamber, more of a lounge really, and Thannis gestured for us to seat ourselves. He looked at Briana and smiled once we were all comfortable, before speaking.
“Frankly, I was hoping for more. I cannot imagine you making that much of a difference, with all due respect.”
Briana smiled as she glanced over at me, before addressing Thannis. “Michael here is in command, per the order of Lord Severian.”
Thannis raised an eyebrow as he looked directly at me. “Pleased to make your acquaintance,” he said before rapidly continuing. “The situation is worse than dire. The Sanguinis have blasted and fought their way down to the seventh level. We have tried everything to stop them and slow their advance - engagement, avoidance, the creation of obstacles … and nothing has halted them. We blew the Maglev tubes, but they have dug their way through and now advance through these tunnels to this very position! I am considering evacuating the remaining civilians to the Infinite Ladder, but based on your previous reports that the Sanguinis were seen in the Hall of Giants, I am frankly at a loss as to our next move.” As he finished, Thannis placed his hands on the table in front of him, palms upward, his gaze focused on Briana and not me.
“What of the orbitals?” asked Briana.
“We’ve detonated one-half of them already but if this base were to fall, it is our intention to detonate them all.”
“Any news on the fleet?” It was Gabrielus who had spoken.
“Thannis visage actually brightened. “They are much closer than we anticipated. Two days out, but that is apparently time we do not have.”
“I understand that Polemarch Yeqon leads the advancing Sanguinis forces.” It was now Briana’s turn to speak. I peered at her and saw a fanatical look, an ugly look, on her face. Her mention of Yeqon had brought out a visceral hatred, and this was my first clue into her past, a past I would learn more about later. Briana would relate to me that it had been Yeqon’s forces that had sacked her homeworld, and Yeqon who had ravaged her people.
Thannis nodded, “we are no match for a fallen Highborn Lord, even you I suppose,” added Thannis, obviously referring to Briana.
“Well, as you and I discussed before, our course of action is obvious,” began Briana, before pausing, causing everyone in the room to wait in anticipation for her next words. “we shall engage all our forces, whatever forces remain, in one final confrontation. The goal, the only goal,” she emphasized, “will be to kill Lord Yeqon.”
I heard Thannis chuckle and the others in the room gasp, but Briana continued. “That should throw the Sanguinis into disarray and hopefully buy us some time.”
Thannis actually laughed.
Briana smiled in his direction, undeterred by Thannis’ reaction to her plan. “Show me a schematic of the base. We need to bottleneck the Sanguinis, get them in close quarters so we can engage the Polemarch.”
Thannis stood and strode to a terminal on the wall, quickly moving his palm over it. Almost immediately, a three dimensional holographic depiction of the base appeared over the conference table at which we were sitting. Thannis walked to the table and raised his hand toward the image, touching his fingertips to the map. The map constricted to reveal a tube, presumably the Maglev tunnel nearby . The specific area he was highlighting seemed to be a terminal of sorts where visitors could offload from the trains.
“As we spoke of earlier when you were descending the ladder,” began Thannis, “the optimal location for an engagement with the advancing Sanguinis would be at the Maglev terminal. And … we’ve blown the tunnel here.” Thannis paused, running his fingers over the tunnel to a location about one hundred meters from the terminal. He opened his hand as he did so, a three-dimensional visualization of the tunnel at the location appearing, revealing a blocked passageway where the ceiling and sides had been caved in. Thannis continued speaking.
“The Sanguinis have drills that are boring their way through the collapsed passageway. Our estimates give us a couple of hours at best.” Thannis continued running his fingers along the three-dimensional holograph, bringing us back to the terminal. He then pushed his finger on the terminal area, expanding it, and as he did so, a holographic image of the terminal appeared, as if called by magic, hovering over the table. “The terminal is the best bet for a last stand. The Sanguinis will necessarily be coming through the tunnel; they’ll be at a lower elevation than our forces; and they will be in a narrow passageway. We can pick them off.”
I glanced at Briana, wishing to gauge her reaction. I looked closely for the prior expressions of anger, rage and fanatacism I had spied previously. These were gone. Instead, I saw an impassive look that was framed by a motionless set of features on her face. “Okay,” was all she said.
“Well,” began Thannis, “I suppose we should delve down into the details.” We were soon joined by five formidable-looking soldiers, presumably the remaining Gemini still living. We exchanged pleasantries and then proceeded to watch in rapt attention as Thannis and Briana worked out the specifics of our last stand. It had been confirmed that Polemarch Yeqon, though not involved deeply in the prior encounters within the facility, had stood close enough to the action as to be vulnerable. Briana called him arrogant, noting that he felt himself immortal. Again, and only for a second, a picture of fanaticism cross her features, making me wonder how I would react to finally confronting the destroyer of everything that I held dear.
Even though I was the unit commander, I found myself deferring to Thannis and Briana’s obvious experience. They broke us down into teams, with each team having specified responsibilities, locations, fields of fire and tasks assigned. The goal was to put up enough resistance to make it seem like it was our last stand, feign a fall back in order to draw out Yeqon, and then pounce upon him once he had come through the tunnel opening. My unit was to specifically engage Polemarch Yeqon’s group once they emerged through the opening, with myself and Briana directly assaulting the fallen Highborn Lord while the others engaged his Frank protectors. I recall Thannis’ reaction when Briana indicated it would be her and myself targeting the Polemarch; he had been surprised, for he had expected to have been chosen to assist in that monumental undertaking.
“The boy?” he had asked, obviously referring to me. The entire room grew silent at the affront, the tension ratcheting up.
“Yes,” was Briana’s response. “He is the unit commander and his talents are uniquely qualified for such a task.” Briana had emphasized the words ‘uniquely qualified’ with a mischievous smile as she looked at me.
“Hmmmm,” was Thannis’ only comment, one tinged with skepticism and doubt.
Once the plan was confirmed, it was decided to evacuate all non-essential personnel to the Infinite Ladder. There, they would stay, potentially finding their way into the bowels of the mountains at any number of potential exit points, including the Hall of Giants. They were to live in exile if the planet were not reclaimed, left to fend for themselves on a hostile world fallen under the thumb of Mankind’s greatest tormenters, but most likely they would be captured or killed eventually. At that moment, I considered Charley’s father, a man I had known since my earliest days, and I saw the picture of him hanging by his ears on the side of a building. I cringed.
A small cadre of operators was going to stay in the Command Center node, detonating all essential defensive facilities, including the orbitals, if our mission were to fail. As we departed, I saw the operators staring at us, nervous and downcast looks plastered to their faces. We were their last hope, but in us, they saw little in the way of optimism regarding their futures. I smiled to those with whom I made eye contact, the entire scene morose and depressing.
Soon, we were on the move, time growing short. I had given Emily a last hug, to the chagrin of Gabrielus, whose face exhibited hurt and anger. Though I knew my actions bothered Gabrielus, I simply did not care, a coldness having overcome my entire being. I also recall how Emily had mightily protested being left behind, insisting that she could be of assistance, but in reality, leaving her with the others was an obvious decision. As I departed, Emily began to speak, but then she stopped. It made me wonder if she had something to say, something she had wanted to impart before my departure, but in the end, she said nothing.
The plan had us engaging the Sanguinis in the Maglev tunnel at its end-of-line stop where, ironically, Thannis’ forces had previously blown the ceiling to slow their inexorable advance. Intelligence reports indicated that the Sanguinis were using high-technology tunneling technology to bore through the collapsed rock and cement, and that they were now close to breaking through. The strategy, one devised by Briana and Thannis, was to place, or hide, Gemini forces near the expected breach. The remaining soldiers would put up resistance and then fall back, Hopefully, this would draw the Sanguinis, and their leaders, through the breach. Once Polemarch Yeqon was on the Gemini side of the rock slide, the Gemini hidden nearby would direct grenades toward the opening, collapsing it once more and trapping the Fallen Highborn Lord. At that point, the retreating forces would turn to re-engage the Sanguinis while the hidden Gemini forces would descend upon the unsuspecting enemy, with Briana and myself specifically targeting Polemarch Yeqon.
Within a short time, we were moving, eleven Gemini with another fifty soldiers, arriving within minutes at the terminal, a pounding sound ringing in our ears, the evident noise of the Sanguinis tunneling machinery at work. The enemy was close. The Gemini had been broken into three fire teams, two teams of four and one of three, with my team consisting of myself, Briana, Granite and Phoebe. Our goal was essentially to lie in wait until Polemarch Yeqon revealed himself, and then pounce upon him, with myself and Briana directly engaging the Fallen Highborn Lord. As we positioned ourselves in vents above the tunnel, I made sure my Power Rifle was operating and fully armed, and I also checked my shielding technology to ensure it was working properly. With my hands, I alternated between clenched fists and open palms, the staff given to me by Sam so many years before nevertheless held tight. I considered what sort of artifact I held in my palms, wondering if I held an artifact of antiquity, one of the great staffs of the Highborn Lords of yore. I felt a pulse of energy course through my veins as these thoughts came to me, but it was fleeting and disappeared like the whispering wind of the Cuesta Valley.
I settled into my hiding spot, thoughts of the upcoming engagement running through my head, and I wondered if our audacious plan would work. Briana had seemed so confident, but my take on her was that she was always confident, and this I found heartening. Thannis, on the other hand, had been pessimistic, and he had kept asking whether it made sense for him to aid Briana in her duel with the Polemarch, always casting furtive glances in my direction. Briana, in the face of these constant requests, had never wavered in her insistence that I stand with her. Now, as I lay alone in one of the vents, with Briana supposedly nearby, I almost wished she had taken Thannis up on his request; I felt fear; I was scared of what could happen next, terrified that I would be captured and transformed into one of those awful demons. I whispered the prayer that Briana had taught me before, repeating it to myself over and over … do not falter or be afraid, for I am not really alone, I am surrounded by invisible forces that will assist me.
I was brought from my prayerful reverie by the sounds of tunneling machinery. They were close and suddenly I spied a large metal drill break through the collapsed rubble blocking the Maglev tunnel. It was precisely at that moment that I heard a familiar and reassuring voice behind me.
“Michael,” Emily whispered.
My head swiveled toward her. “What are you doing here?”
She smiled. “I couldn’t bear to leave you. Plus, I thought you might need me.” She actually chuckled.
I was flabbergasted because I knew this was the worst place for her to be right now, because we were about to engage in a desperate gambit to save Ptolemy.
“This is foolish,” I began, speaking harshly, “this cannot end well for you.” I softened my tone. “Promise me you will stay up here in this vent, no matter what happens down below.”
Emily smiled as she stared into my eyes, a long silence ensuing between the two of us. “I can’t,” she finally said matter-of-factly.
“Promise me!” I insisted.
She hesitated for a long second, the sounds from the tunnel below now loud and clear as Sanguinis soldiers had begun to flood through the opening.
“Promise!”
She finally nodded as I removed my rifle and handed it to her. “I won’t be needing this,” I said as I turned away from Emily, trying to focus on the events unfolding below. That’s when she spoke up again.
“Michael,” she whispered.
I turned my head again to face her as best as I could. I nodded, prodding her to continue, irritation obvious by my tone.
“I have to say something.” She hesitated. I remained quiet, wondering what was so important. “Michael, the boy you saw earlier, my son,” she paused again, and as she did, I had a sense as to what she was going to say next and my stomach tightened. “That is our son,” she added, emphasizing the word ‘our’.
I was flabbergasted. I just stared at her, my mouth agape, and I felt a wellspring of emotions rushing through my body. I closed my eyes for a second, and my soul was filled with a joy I had not experienced in years. I opened my eyes and finally smiled before speaking, the staccato sound of Power Rifle slugs by now flooding the cavern below. “What’s his name?” I ventured.
“Gabriel.” She said, before waving me away. “Go.”
I stared at her for a long second, for an eternity it seemed, simply looking into her eyes, before eventually turning my focus to the scene below. I saw that the Sanguinis soldiers were, by now, being inundated by rifle fire and blast grenades, their shielding holding up for the most part, though some had fallen. While thoughts of my son continued to hound me, the sounds below began to fade away as our pre-planned retreat was implemented. I continued to peer toward the opening, knowing that Franks would soon emerge, followed ultimately by the arrogant Polemarch Yeqon, so arrogant that he was willing to so closely trail the combat. This was something, over the course of my long life, I would come to expect of the Fallen Highborn, for they viewed themselves as immortal beings, as gods within time and space itself, indestructible and impervious to the weapons of mortal man. Over the coming years, many of them would soon learn a harsh lesson.
It did not take long for the Franks to emerge, roughly eight of them, about the number our intelligence had estimated remained in the tunnels. I waited, knowing that if this gambit were to work, Polemarch Yeqon needed to come through the opening. Where was he? I continued to wait, my hopes slowly fading as I considered whether our plan was for naught. Sweat was beading my brows, and then suddenly, there he was. He was the tallest being I had ever seen, magnificent in his appearance, a beautiful creature in all respects, and nothing like I had imagined the leader of the Sanguinis forces would look like.
Polemarch Yeqon was tall and strong, muscular yet not overly muscled, with veins running all over his strong hands, and veins running down the sides of his powerful neck. He possessed wide shoulders, with a black cloak draped over them, and he wore a black body suit with a red belt, and black polished boots up his calves. But it was not his clothes that were remarkable, or the unseemly veins on his hands and neck that drew me to him, but his face, for it was the most beautiful and angelic face I had ever seen  he possessed dark and messy hair, swaying about as he moved, giving him the appearance of youth, and there was something mirthful about his features, maybe something mysterious, and as I studied him, I found myself drawn to this beautiful creature. His face was perfectly symmetrical, with high cheekbones, a perfectly sized nose, and a strong but less than barbaric chin. For an eternity, I stared at this creature, a mythic being, one of the original three hundred Shoen that had come through the singularity during Mankind’s most desperate times  I was seeing a creature that had been born outside the time and space of this Universe, a being that was supposedly more than ten thousand years old, and a being that had traded in his humanity to become immortal. I was witnesses the closest thing to a living God as could exist in our Universe. For some reason, at that very moment, I remembered Sam’s word, words quoted from an ancient human poet … “it is better to reign in hell than to serve in heaven.” Yeqon smiled and as he did, I finally was able to discern his eyes, flaming red eyes they were, and when he opened his mouth to smile, I saw sharp metallic-like teeth. These attributes broke the hypnotic spell he had placed upon me and brought me back to the present.
I nevertheless continued watching as Yeqon haughtily strode into my view. Suddenly, I heard grenade explosions behind Yeqon. Rubble came crashing down from the ceiling above, blocking entry into the terminal and preventing escape as well. Yeqon and his minions were trapped, but whether that would matter was now up to us. In front of the Sanguinis, our soldiers had returned and were by now re-engaging the enemy, firing grenade and Power Rifle slugs in droves. It was time. I leapt downward, somersaulting from my perch above the Maglev tunnel, to a pre-arranged spot near Lord Yeqon. I saw that Briana landed next to me, no more than three meters from my spot. All around us, and around Yeqon’s protectors, I saw the remaining Gemini arrive, including Granite, Phoebe, Thannis and Gabrielus. For a moment, it was as if time stood still, everyone shocked by what had occurred, including the Gemini. That moment passed as close quarters combat commenced.
Briana leapt at Lord Yeqon, whose quarterstaff had elongated, and he beautifully and expertly parried her strike. All the while, I stood flatfooted, events happening too fast for me to react. Realizing that I needed to act, my staff elongated and I came at the fallen Highborn Lord, but he parried me quickly, suddenly striking at my head, so fast that I could not even raise my hands, the sharp end of his staff impacting and breaking my helmet. I was thrown backwards like a rag doll, landing roughly on the concrete rubble, blacking out. As I lost consciousness, I recall the last thoughts that came to me, that I was merely a fly to him, a nuisance only, not even worth his consideration. This was the end for me.
I must have returned to consciousness only moments later, for the combat still raged all around me. I took inventory of my surroundings, and I found that I was sprawled on the rubble, my helmet cracked in half, blood caked on my forehead and having run into my eyes. I realized that my helmet had saved me, saving me from certain death I was certain. I peered about my location, not yet trying to raise myself, my senses completely out of sorts. Finally, I tried to stand, my head throbbing, my limbs sore, and it was then that I witnessed the chaotic situation around me  fallen soldiers and fallen Sanguinis everywhere, concrete rubble littered about, and fresh red blood flowing like a river on the ground. I saw Gabrielus, Granite, and Phoebe in a fight for their lives. From the corner of my eyes, I spied Briana, furiously fending off the precise and brutal thrusts directed against her by Polemarch Yeqon. The fact she had survived this long impressed me. I would also later learn that it had been Yeqon’s minions who had taken and ravaged Briana’s home planet, enslaving her family and friends, destroying everything she had ever held dear  it was an affront she had held tightly to her breast for her entire life, an even for which she had thirsted for vengeance since her earliest days, but unfortunately for Briana, she was no match for a being such as Yeqon.
I again tried to raise myself, but as I did, I once more became lightheaded and collapsed to my knees, buttressing my fall with my hands. I reached for my staff, scrambling on the ground to try and find it, but it was nowhere near me. While on all fours, I madly turned my head in all directions, looking for the weapon, knowing that it was the only thing standing between me and certain death. Finally, I spied it, laying on the ground some ten meters away. Slowly, and inexorably, I began crawling toward the staff, the sounds of battle raging all around me.
As I drew closer, my senses seemed close to recovering. I tried to stand, but again I experienced lightheadedness and nausea, and I almost blacked out once more. Realizing I could not walk, or even stand for that matter, I continued to crawl toward my staff - it was then that I heard Briana cry out. I barely managed to raise my head to see that my compatriot had fallen backwards with Yeqon hovering over her. Seeing her fall depressed me, but it also brought a surge of adrenaline. Yeqon raised his staff as if to strike Briana and forever extinguish all glimmer of life from her. It was then that another strange thing happened. Yeqon suddenly staggered as his shielding was struck by hundreds of power gun rifle slugs, and it distracted him, though it did not injure him in any way. I glanced in the direction from which the rifle slugs had come and to my surprise, I saw Emily. Oh no, I thought.
Yeqon turned toward her and I saw him bare his metallic sharp teeth, his red eyes blazing, and as he leaned over, he grabbed a dagger hidden at his shin. In one fluid and expert motion, he threw it in her direction.
“No!” I yelled.
I don’t know what Emily did but somehow the dagger only struck her shoulder, even though it had been intended for her head. Emily screamed in pain and fell to the ground. It was then I saw two Sanguinis leap toward her, staffs in hand, ready to finish her off. Suddenly, I found my strength but I was too far away. I reached for my staff, which was still some distance from my position, and it flew into my hands. In one swift motion, I threw it, like a boomerang, toward the closest Sanguinis, and like a missile it bored down upon the creature, expanding into its full size the moment before it struck and killed the demon, felling it like a cut tree. I reached for my staff and it whisked back toward me, but I was too late for the other creature struck Emily a death blow to the head. I yelled in fury as I threw my staff, it striking the murderous beast a moment too late to save Emily, exploding its skull into a million pieces of blood and bone. By then, I had reached the already dead demon, and I repeatedly struck at it until its blood splattered all around it and on me. It must have been a truly gruesome sight.
I stooped down to check on Emily, and when I did, my worst fears were confirmed. She was dead. I looked skyward and screamed, a blood curdling yell it was, bringing all those battling in the tunnel to a standstill. I glanced around me as I gently placed her body on the ground, my clothes soaked in blood. It was then my eyes met Yeqon’s, and he looked at me strangely, as if seeing me for the first time. The staff in my hand elongated as I stepped toward him, a fury beyond that possessed by mortal man powering my entire being.
Yeqon continued staring at me, his gaze now focused on the staff in my hand, and I followed his gaze, witnessing something strange as I did, for letters in a language foreign to me now glowed bright red on my staff, and I immediately knew I held in my palms one of the nine quarterstaffs from antiquity. It did not occur to me until much later what this meant, for only those of pure Highborn blood could wield these powerful weapons. At that precise second in time, I felt fields of energy pulsing through my body, amplified by both the staff in my hand and the amulet around my neck. I imagined myself as the King of the World, the Lord of the Universe, and I felt immortal.
Polemarch Yeqon bowed as he strode in my direction, an odd look plastered to his features. His previous haughtiness had disappeared, replaced by what I now perceived as wariness. Had the staff itself made this great Lord fear me? I suppose I would never know.
“Fau oro o?” Spoke Yeqon, his voice melodic and soothing.
I peered at him, not understanding the words he had uttered.
As if on cue, he spoke again, this time in a language familiar to me. “Who are you?”
I did not know what to say. I was not sure what to say. I was not sure who, or what, I was. So, I remained silent.
“Fil en ar glinno?”
Again, I peered at Yeqon, not comprehending his words, for he was again speaking in a language of which I had no knowledge. Realizing I did not understand him, he repeated himself. “What is your name?”
This time, I responded. “I am Michael Severian,” and with that I smiled in the creature’s direction, assuming a dueling position. I was ready.
But Yeqon was not finished speaking, next uttering the words I would never forget. ” I knew your ancestors. I knew the Lord Keter the Seventh. He is dead. He cannot save you. Your name cannot save you. You will die here today.” And then, Yeqon assumed the dueling position, his staff held loosely in his right hand. It was time.
Though this would not be revealed to me until much later, my duel with Yeqon would be the first duel between Highborn Lords in ten thousand years, and it was to be recorded by the overhead sensors in the Maglev tunnel, ultimately to be circulated on the GKN throughout the Galaxy. This duel would make me famous.
But I get ahead of myself. As Yeqon stepped toward me, time seemed to slow and I perceived more clearly every little detail around me. I felt the hard ground below my boots, littered by now with pebbles and rocks from the collapsed ceiling. I realized that I would need to be careful to avoid tripping on one of these rocks and losing my balance. I breathed the air in the tunnel, dusty and dirty, with smoke from Power Rifle discharges, collapsed rubble and grenade explosions wafting throughout. The area we were to fight in was small, but by now I noticed that the fighting around us had stopped. That was strange. I also saw that the Sanguinis soldiers had dropped to their knees, now fully encircling Yeqon and myself, their heads staring at their Lord and at me, watching the unfolding drama before them. I wondered why my allies did not use this opportunity to strike these demons down, but then I saw that all our soldiers were either captured or injured, and that only I was left. Would a victory even matter?
Yeqon came at me quickly, but not too quickly. I was able to match him. I immediately noticed that he fought right handed and I mirrored his moves easily, rapidly and expertly deflecting the Fallen Highborn’s maneuvers. We stood in place for an eternity before the combat began once more, trading feints, thrusts and parries with lightning speed, in a manner that was almost impossible to follow by the naked eye. I recall that I had no trouble matching Yeqon, and this brought to me an euphoria that I had never felt before in my lifetime. I pressed the attack, always remembering that simplicity was better  thinking of Yeqon as the practice board placed by Sam against the tree, and like I had done in my youth, cut one to two, two to three, and so forth, the practice strokes from a youth so far away guided me now. I tried nothing exotic as I moved Yeqon around our small space, maneuvering him to wherever I desired. We continued the duel, the metal staffs flashing and ringing, when suddenly Yeqon switched to his left side, flummoxing me briefly. So, like me, he was a left hander. Interesting. He now came at me viciously, but I survived the onslaught. I discerned that Yeqon was getting frustrated, and he sometimes came at me sloppily, eager to end the encounter. I ducked a wild swing, and as Yeqon passed by, our eyes met, and I saw fear. I kicked him in the side, throwing him to the ground. As I leapt toward him, he somersaulted over my head, having regained his footing, but I quickly turned to face him.
We paused for only a glimmer of a moment, and in that moment, I saw desperation in his eyes. Stay the course, I told myself … stay the course and I would prevail. So, I retreated a bit, and though I did, I never truly feared defeat. For a second, I thought of changing to my dominant left-handed stance, but I did not do so, for I saw in such a move no immediate advantage. Though I did not maneuver him like before, the duel continued in this way for many seconds, and I perceived that even when fighting with my weaker side against his stronger side, I was better. Polemarch Yeqon must have realized this too, for I now saw in his blazing red eyes a look of resignation, the resignation that there would be no immortality for him. I pressed him, and he tried to press back, but I was better. Strike, strike, parry, strike … and so forth. Words cannot explain the duel well. He was tiring and I saw an opportunity. It was now time to finish him. I suddenly changed to my left hand. This completely tipped the balance in my favor. It was only a matter of seconds now. I swung at his head. He barely parried. He was off balance. I kicked with my foot and he fell sideways. He was now undefended. I came at him mercilessly, thinking of Emily, of Charley’s father, and of all the residents of Ptolemy who had suffered and died because of this creature. I struck at his shoulder. He could not parry and he screamed in pain as the sharp bayonet edge of my staff shaved his clothes and skin. I kept attacking. He was retreating. I struck at his knee now and shattered one. He fell, still holding his staff up in front of him. I slammed into it, breaking the artifact in two. I did not hesitate to kill him then, with one fell stroke to the side of his head. He was not a God. He was not immortal. For Emily and all the others, I pummeled Yeqon, my fury unbounded. The duel was over and I was victorious.
I stood, breathing heavily as I peered about me. The Sanguinis remained on their knees, their heads bowed, encircling me. I saw some of my brethren now standing, albeit with difficulty, confused by the scene unfolding in front of us. Briana raised herself and smiled toward me. Then I saw Gabrielus, and Phoebe, and Granite. They all lived, though they were hurt. They all stared at me and then at the fallen Yeqon. I saw Thannis too, and I noticed everyone had survived, except for Emily. I cringed and closed my eyes, the pain of Emily’s death returning. Briana met my gaze as I opened my eyes, a questioning look, as if asking what was to be done next. The Sanguinis still remained unmoving on the ground. I finally spoke.
“Put these poor miserable creatures out of their misery.”
Briana and the others looked at me strangely, either not understanding or not believing that I could give such an order. I knew there could be no prisoners and I knew that these creatures were beyond hope. So, I spoke again, this time more forcefully.
“Kill them all.”
XXI.
MANY PARTINGS
Once Yeqon had fallen, and the Sanguinis in the Maglev tunnels had been dispatched- oddly with no resistance whatsoever, remaining kneeling on the ground, heads bowed, as the Gemini extinguished their miserable lives one by one the remaining Sanguinis on the planet and in the system became a disorganized bunch. Though never clear to us, many of the Sanguinis simply stopped fighting, allowing themselves to be exterminated, while others continued fighting under the leadership of some of Yeqon’s stronger Frank leaders, some of whom had assumed command. But in general, the invasion was over and it only was a matter of time before Ptolemy was under the full control of Mankind once more.
Over the next couple of days, we remained holed up in the Command Center node of operations, preparing for an assault that never came, readying ourselves for a last stand that was never necessary, and commiserating over the fallen brethren we would never see alive again. It was not a good time for me. But eventually, we were informed that the world had been made safe again, and that it was time to emerge from the bowels of the mountain and once more see and smell the world of Ptolemy. It was a bittersweet moment for me, for though we were victorious, and though I had become legend, I had lost the last true tie to my childhood, losing Emily to the doppleganger Sanguinis. Long after my unit, and Briana, and the others who had assisted Planet Ptolemy, departed for Kether and the greater glory that was the center of the known Universe, I remained on Ptolemy, remaining in Cordillero to say my goodbye’s, to attend to the funeral of Emily, and to get to know my son, a boy named Gabriel.
Gabrielus had asked if she could stay with me, and I had refused her, doing so cruelly  I don’t know what had come over me. There was something about Gabrielus that brought out the meanest and nastiest emotions within me, as if I begrudged the deep kindness she showered upon me, hating her for the unconditional love she threw my way. I was shameful, and my future treatment of her would be even more shameful, but that is a story for another day.
The others had said their goodbye’s in different ways. Briana had embraced me, though coldly, for a cold soul she was, but I recall the glimmer of a smile on her face as she extended her congratulations, informing me that I had become a legend in the world of Man, my exploits having been filmed and surreptitiously circulated on the GKN for all the Universe to see. She told me that already the elites clamored for my presence on Kether, and that a great fame would precede my arrival. Briana had uttered simply before she departed that “you are more famous than any man living in the Galaxy. Your name is powerful. I look forward to your arrival on Kether. But beware young man!”
Granite, knees smashed and temporarily ruined, had hugged me, and Phoebe, the only unscathed one of our bunch, had kissed me on the cheek, before departing. Samir had finally descended from the mountains with the villagers, still crippled but full of spirit. I couldn’t have been more proud of him, for he had accomplished a great task by leading the inhabitants of my childhood village to safety. I even saw William of Red, who had landed in the nearby mountains when The Way of the Pilgrim had been destroyed during our final, hazardous arrival planetside. He and Captain Quenneville had lived in the deep forest for days, waiting for help to arrive, their mission accomplished in getting us to the planet, having evacuated via pod to the planetary surface to avoid death. I recall embracing William, and as I did so, he smiled sheepishly, only relating to me that it was not his choice that had prevented him from joining us. I could tell he was ashamed but in the euphoria of the moment, all was forgotten.
And then they all had departed, though I remained, having received the approval to say my goodbye’s and to deal with personal matters. I stayed for weeks, the first couple days focused on attending funerals and assisting the villagers in piecing their lives back together. I lived with Sentius Ceres, who remained strong despite the untimely death of his oldest daughter, probably able to survive only on the notion that his daughter had lived a heroic life and had left him a grandson. Every time I thought of Emily, I wanted to cry, but by now, I was becoming hardened to the world, and hardened to the ordinary emotions that would previously have crippled me. I do not wish to relate the events of Emily’s funeral here, other than to say the day was bright, with not a cloud in the sky, and it was warm. It was a day perfectly fitting the life she had lived.
I stayed in Cordillero for months, taking young Gabriel camping, and in doing so, I taught him the fundamentals of dueling, instructing him in the same way that Sam had taught me so many years ago. I told the boy I would return and I would test him, and if I found him worthy, I would teach him more. His eyes were wide and he had a precocious way about him, for he found me all-knowing and perfect, like I suspect all young boys do of their father. Finally, it was time for me to go, and I recall promising to Sentius and to Gabriel and all those others who cared, that I would return as often as I could.
“Sentius, you must promise me one thing.”
Sentius had peered at me oddly, though I suspected he knew what I was about to ask. “Yes?”
“Other than those who already know, Gabriel’s identity as my son cannot be revealed, for I suspect that those who wish me harm will use him against me.”
Sentius nodded. “I understand.” He then smiled. “Well, the boy already had a father before you arrived, so I suppose nothing much will change.”
I smiled. “Good. I think it is time for me to depart.”
And with that, I embraced Sentius Ceres, a man who had always been good to me, and I would not see him for many years. I also said my goodbyes to Gabriel and the others, knowing that I had one more place to go. Soon, I was back in Ptolemy, and I was near Gustav’s vertical farm, though I could not make myself actually visit him, still ashamed of the events that had taken his son from him so many years before. I left him a note, respectfully asking his presence at the Bellweather Inn for breakfast - that was the most courage I could summon. On the appointed day, I waited, waiting patiently at this very table for Gustav Farmer to appear. Appear he did, a grim and morose look plastered to his features. I stood as he approached, graciously motioning for him to sit. He did, never once meeting my gaze. Finally, as we were both seated, I spoke.
“I know this must be hard, but I did not have the courage to come to see you before.” I stopped, trying to gauge Gustav’s reaction, but if there was one, he was not revealing it. He said nothing.
“I wanted to come by after the accident,” I said, “but I felt that there was nothing I could say, nothing I could do; in fact, I felt that my presence alone would have made matters worse. So, I chose to not reveal that I had survived.” I stopped.
Gustav looked from the window, through which he had been staring, and met my eyes. “What happened?” He asked.
I pitied the man, now almost seven years later, still searching for answers to the untimely and senseless death of his son. As I sat there across from him, I wondered if it had been a mistake to come here, to open up old wounds, but as I thought these thoughts, I realized it was too late to go back now.
“They took me from the line while I was waiting to board and knocked me unconscious. I was later told, after the shuttle had already detonated, that it was better if my enemies, whomever they were, thought me dead.”
I stared into Gustav’s eyes. He nodded.
“Who told you that?”
I was treading on dangerous ground, but I felt that he deserved an answer, so I continued. “Lord Samuel Severian.”
Gustav nodded. He looked out the window. He seemed to stare out the window for an eternity, not saying a word. Suddenly, he rose. Without looking at me again, he began walking away. “Wait!” I said as I stood and rushed toward him. “Wait!”
Gustav stopped but he did not turn. I came to him and spoke. “Thank you for everything. I mean it from the bottom of my heart. You saved my life.” I then proceeded to reach for the book A Record of Ancient Matters that was in my bag and I handed it to Gustav. I knew that it contained the signature from Sam that served as a recommendation into the Legio Gemini. “For Brett,” I said.
Gustav did not immediately reach for it, though he looked at it for a long moment. Finally, I thought I saw the contours of a thin smile come to his lips. He grabbed for the book, but before he could, and on an impulse, I took it back and opened it to the last page. Under Sam’s signature, I wrote the following words: “I recommend Brett Farmer as a candidate for Legio Gemin.” Under those words, I signed my name, simply signing the words Michael Severian.
When I was finished, Gustav took the book and without looking at me, he departed, not saying another word. I would never see him again. That night, I would stroll through the Subway one last time, and I found myself coming to the GKN café where so many years ago, I had met the girl named Selva. I wondered if she still worked there, but when I strolled into the café, I saw she did not. I ordered a Bacca for old time sake, sitting at a corner chair, watching the hordes of teens walk by, remembering the times when I had done so myself. A young girl approached me, and she peered at me strangely. “Aren’t you the man from the video, the famous soldier?”
I looked up at her and smiled. “I think you have me confused with someone else,” I said.
She stared at me oddly and then nodded as she left. I soon departed, heading for the Spaceport, my journey to Kether now underway. Within weeks, I would be approaching Kether, and I would be entering the next phase of my life. I was heading for the Celestial City.
Michael sighed as he finished speaking, taking a sip from a glass of wine in front of him. By now, it was dark outside, the artificial lights of the city providing a glow to the world that somehow comforted him. He stood, raising himself to his majestic height and smiled toward Sofer Kyot and the two soldiers. “Until tomorrow. I will see you at breakfast.” Michael then strode off to his room, leaving the soldiers and the scribe to themselves.
Scribe Kyot, as was his wont, was the first to speak. “What an extraordinary tale, an amazing fiction if you think about it.” He chuckled. “This man claims to be the father of the Emperor of Mankind, Gabriel Severian.” Kyot actually laughed this time, though it was an uncomfortable laugh. “And what is he doing here, on this backwater world, a planet I have never even heard of. Hmph! Have either of you ever even heard of this Battle of Ptolemy he describes?”
One of the soldiers, the older one, the man we had previously identified as Lord Marith Severian, actually spoke, the first words uttered by either of them since their arrival at the Bellweather Inn. “It is an actual historical event, and other than the personal events related, for which we have no affirmation, it was told with historical accuracy?”
Scribe Kyot frowned. “Really? How come I have never heard of it, then?”
The younger soldier now spoke, Marith’s teenage son, an odd smile plastered to his face. “It is largely forgotten, because it happened over one thousand years ago, before the Fall of Kether.”
And with that comment, the soldiers stood and departed, hastily walking to their rooms, leaving the scribe to sit alone, contemplating the story he had just heard, and contemplating whether the tale he would hear tomorrow would be as fantastic and improbable as the one related this very day.
THE END