Hellfire (THEIRS NOT TO REASON WHY) (50 page)

“Correct. Sit,” he directed her, gesturing at one of the chairs at the middle point of table. His Terranglo, trade tongue of the Alliance, was far more eloquent than her V’Dan would have been. “This isn’t a formal meeting.”

She allowed the Grand General to hold her seat for her. “When a foreign soldier is called before the local head of state, it is always a formal meeting, Eternity.”

The title she used had originally belonged to the Immortal; War King Kah’el hadn’t been able to break her people from using it on him in turn when he had taken over the old, planet-bound empire. It had stuck with his descendants ever since, though none of them had ever lived longer than the normal life span. Ia used it now in respect, tipping her head.

“It is assumed that, as an officer, I must at all times represent my own government in a positive light toward your people,” she said. “But then, I believe that is what this meeting is about, is it not?”

“True,” he agreed, pulling out his own chair across from her, not waiting for the Grand General to come around the table and do so. That spoke cultural volumes about the middle-aged ruler’s candidness and intent. “Still, this is not a formal court appearance. Such a thing would cause a firestorm of public interest and an earthquake of religious turmoil. I would rather
speak with you as one soldier to another since our nations are allies in war.”

“And my confirmation as a major religious figure should be used as a positive influence toward that war effort, I agree,” Ia stated. This was the other reason why she had chosen to appear in civilian clothes rather than her uniform. She could still speak as an officer of the Terran United Planets Space Force, but he would see her as the Prophet, a subconscious influence. “Given I am here before you, I trust you have reviewed the evidence of the Sh’nai D’aspra Archives confirming my identity, and are not here to question it.”

“No. The evidence was rather straightforward. Unsettlingly so. My family have been Sh’nai followers for the last fourteen hundred years, ever since the Sang’q’ar religious unification movement. Of course, some have ruled in devout worship, some only by paying lip service. I fell closer to the worship side than the lip service,” His Majesty confided candidly, lacing his own fingers together. “But I am…uncertain how I should feel about you.

“As living proof of the Immortal’s words,” he stated, “you are a living saint whose presence has been one of the core predictions of Her Eternity…but as the Emperor of V’Dan, great-plus grandson of the War King himself, it is not politically wise for me to admit openly that the Immortal did, in fact, exist. Even after nearly five thousand years.” Leaning forward, he pinned Ia with his hazel grey eyes. “So what, exactly, am I to do with you?”

“Admitting that the Immortal did exist would lead to speculation that she still exists, being immortal,” Ia agreed. “That would lead every asteroid-headed idiot with a complaint against the current government to try to seek her out, or encourage con men to drum up some impostor. That would cause political instability. Yet because we—you and I—need the backing of the V’Dan people behind the war effort, to
deny
that I exist and that my abilities are real, just in the effort to deny the political-sized headache of the Immortal’s existence, would in turn cripple our efforts to defeat the Salik once and for all.”

“Once and for all?” He seized on that point.

She nodded soberly. “Once and for all. It will not be a pleasant fight, Eternity. I can only promise you that it will be a worthwhile one if and when we succeed.”

He sat back a little, considering her words. “So. We are back again to the problem of what do I do with you?”

She leaned forward on her elbows, echoing his pose by interlacing her fingers together. “My plan, Your Majesty, is and always has been to present my case matter-of-factly. I myself am not what is important; the future is important, and my abilities are merely a tool to access the best path to it. I suggest, with your permission, that I record a message for the Empire. It will be addressed to your fellow V’Dan for you to broadcast at your leisure.
After
we have left the system, since I would prefer another day of near anonymity for my crew. This is their only chance for Leave for the next eight months, and I’d like them to finish enjoying it.”

“And what would you say in this broadcast?” the leader of V’Dan asked, lifting his brow again.

“The flat truth. That I am here to direct the war effort so that as many lives can be saved as possible. That I am not here to answer petty individual questions about the future, but would rather urge your people to turn their energies toward the far-more-effective purpose of defending the Empire. I will then state plainly that the Immortal did and does exist,” Ia told him, quickly holding up one hand to forestall his protest, “but that she is still bound by her oaths to the descendants of the War King to stay
out
of V’Dan politics, so long as your line of Emperors and Empresses continues to lead your people well. I will then confirm that you, Emperor Ki’en-qua, are doing admirably well in this time of great trouble, so she will not return to rule and has no need to return.

“She
is
still bound by her promise,” Ia admitted to him. “So that will not be a lie. I will then state that it is best for the fate of the Empire for you to continue to lead your people for many years to come, and that your reign will have my firm support in that endeavor as the Prophet of a Thousand Years…which means that the orders you give your people will be seen as having my stamp of approval from that point on, whether or not I actually had anything to do with helping you craft them. That will wed religion to politics in a firm show of double support for your policy decisions.”

She added a slight, wry smile to that statement.

Ki’en-qua considered her words and nodded slowly. “So far, I like what I’ve heard. You’re showing support for my
government, respect for our histories, laws, traditions, and the oldest of our faiths…and firmly telling everyone that
your
focus is not on V’Dan but on the Alliance as a whole, leaving me to lead my people as I see fit.”

Ia arched one of her own brows, shifting her tone to a dry, pointed one. “If you
do
stray off the right path, I’ll send round a note to guide you back onto it, Your Majesty. I
am
the Prophet, and I would appreciate it if I had at least some cooperation from you and your people in our mutual war effort. But you can take comfort in the fact I foresee no immediate need to
actually
guide you. You do have good instincts and excellent advisors, and you don’t hesitate to make use of them.”

His Eternal Majesty arched one imperial brow at her hubris, and the two soldiers in the room, the Grand General and the junior officer, both flushed. Ki’en-qua, however, was the one who addressed Ia, and not the ruler of an interstellar empire. “I see you have excellent instincts yourself, knowing exactly which line to tread between lowly foreign soldier and living religious icon, without either falling short or overreaching the range of authority for either.”

Her smile warmed into something more rueful than amused. Hunching forward, Ia confided, “Well, I
am
double-checking the timestreams even as we speak, to make sure what I say to you doesn’t negatively affect the outcome of this meeting.”

He laughed, at that. Emperor, soldier, and man, he laughed. Relaxing, Ia sat back, still smiling. So did he. The tension in the room eased as they shared a moment of amused understanding

The Shield of Thirty-Seven Worlds—which had at one point been thirty-eight, before Sanctuary had successfully petitioned for full independence around the time of her birth—finally sighed and folded his arms across his medal-strewn chest. “If only I could keep you around…I find your forthrightness and honesty refreshing, Prophet. More than that, I think it’s your utter lack of fear in my presence. I have zero power over you…or do I?”

“No, Your Majesty, you do not,” she confirmed. “But our goals are in common alignment. I value the lives of each of your citizens as much as you yourself do—and I say to you, having the full span of Time at my fingertips, you will be remembered as one of the great emperors. You will have to
work hard to survive, and you will suffer as you watch your worlds and your people being attacked again and again and again, but you should survive a good long time, and your people will once again thrive. If we both put our best efforts into this war, you’ll have my Prophetic Stamp on that.”

“I’ve heard reports on your ship’s exceptionally good timing and combat prowess,” he admitted dryly. “Not to mention nigh-unbelievable reports about your vessel’s main weapon. Any chance that technology will be shared with the rest of the Alliance, as the Terrans once shared your hyperspace gifts?”

“None, Your Majesty. The overshoot range on that main cannon is too dangerous for a nonprecognitive to wield, and I am the only one sufficiently skilled in predicting its full path,” Ia said.

“A pity. Right. How much do you speak for your military?” he asked next, sitting forward again. “What authority do you have in brokering deals?”

“Technically, I have
carte blanche
from the hands of the Admiral-General herself,” Ia admitted.

He wasn’t stupid. “
Technically
, I could have you shot and killed for threatening to manipulate the V’Dan government with your little quip about steering my leadership in the right direction. How much
practical
authority do you have?”

She didn’t take offense at the threat, though she did wrinkle her nose. “Not much at the moment, Your Majesty. At some point in the future, if all goes well, I’ll have at least a little more authority, but not right now. I can, however, convey suggestions from the V’Dan High Command to the Terran Command Staff and discuss their value with my superiors as a registered military precog. That does carry some weight, but it does not carry any guarantees at this time.”

“That’ll do. Grand General,” Emperor Ki’en-qua stated, acknowledging the other man’s presence. The general straightened to Attention. “Arrange with Ship’s Captain Ia to have V’Dan High Command security clearance, and ensure that she has the cyphering equipment to access our military communications—I trust that you will not abuse it, of course, Captain. I also trust that, should I have need of your temporal counsel,
Prophet
,” he stressed, returning his attention to the red-clad woman across from him, “that you will give it when I request it?”

“If I can give it, I certainly will, Eternity, for I love your people as much as I love my own,” Ia said, dipping her head. She unbuttoned her left sleeve and flipped open the lid of her arm unit. The general pulled a datachip out of his pocket, already prepared to fulfill the Emperor’s order. “…I do thank you for the ciphers. That will greatly speed up the timely delivery of my missives for your people. For those that aren’t directly related to the military and the war effort, the Afaso Order has agreed to act as my delivery agents.”

“An excellent choice. They are both honorable and politically neutral.” The Emperor paused, watching her slot the chip into her arm unit, then sighed. “Is there anything else we should discuss? As much as I wish to keep you here for hours, answering my questions about the war, the future, even the past…Sh’nai legend describes you as a woman who lacks the time to spare for trivial things.”

“Those legends are unfortunately rather accurate,” Ia admitted, probing the timestreams. The chip she had given to the general the day before already contained a personal cipher and hyperrelay frequency for him to contact her ship. Nothing had changed between then and now, since this was the majority chance she had foreseen. “No…I think that’s about it for now.

“I’ll head back to my ship now, put on my formal Dress Blacks, and record my address to your people. You’ll have a clean copy of it within the next four hours. That should give you and your advisors plenty of time to figure out how best to present it after the
Hellfire
has left the system.”

He lifted his brows. “What, no direct orders on how to do that?”

She gave him a wry look. “I am still a mere mortal, Your Majesty. One lone woman with a huge task ahead of me, whereas you have thousands of advisors on your payroll. Use them wisely, and I won’t have to burden myself by doing their job for you on top of my own.”

“Should I salute you when you say things like that?” Emperor Ki’en-qua asked dryly, gesturing at her red-clad frame. “Whenever you go all Prophet-y instead of soldier-y?”

Ia chuckled, relaxing. “No, Your Majesty. I’m merely here to deliver a message. A series of messages, to save lives. I might get a bit zealous about it,” she admitted, shrugging with self-deprecation and a tough sense of humor, “but it’s the message
that’s important, not the messenger. If you’ll give me leave to depart, I’ll go get started on helping ensure you remain firmly in control of the First Empire, exactly where Time says you should be.”

“By all means, go,” he ordered, gesturing at the door.

Rising, she bowed. “Thank you, Eternal Majesty—one more thing: increase your security slightly once my broadcast has been sent to your people. There is a five percent chance it’ll trigger some attempted anti-imperial attacks in spite of my reassurances, but it is nothing that well-prepared guards cannot handle.”

“My staff already has that in mind,” he reassured her. “But I’ll pass along the warning. Five percent is still a large number when it comes to one’s personal safety.”