The Szuiltan Alliance (The Szuiltan Trilogy) (27 page)

The uncomfortable idea suddenly struck him to compare what had happened in the natural world with his own administration.

“Do I suppress rather than protect? Have I stunted the evolution of our society by the rules my government has set out?”

Commander-in-chief Markland, sitting in a chair opposite the Controller’s desk, was unsure whether the question was meant for him or rhetorical, but he decided to play safe.

“I don’t know Controller. It’s not something I’ve given much thought to.”

The Controller ignored him, his thoughts racing ahead. He had seen it in the Larnian Church for many years. Censorship under the guise of protection. Thought manipulation under the guise of protection. Control.

“All substantial organisations and institutions do it don’t they? Control their people while telling them it's for their own good. How do we know what's for their own good? Can't they decide for themselves?”

He found the thoughts disconcerting but could not stop. He felt there was something important nagging at the edges, something more significant than concerns about the rights and wrongs of his personal actions.

“What kind of organisations Controller?” asked Markland, uneasy with the tone of the Controller’s words. If one of his own men had spoken that way Markland would have brought him up on charges of subversion and treason.

The Controller turned from the window, acknowledging Markland’s interruption this time.

“There are none more substantial than the Reagold Corporation. So, tell me this Commander. For as long as I can remember, the Larnian Church has opposed the Reagold Corporation in its many attempts to get its products a direct distribution line on Earth, and that opposition has always been enough to sway the decision makers. They were
protecting the people from this evil corporation
. Yet now, since our disastrous attempt at signing the treaty with Aks, Reagold has been courted and welcomed by the Church. A representative of the corporation is due to arrive soon, to be met by senior officials of the Larnian Church, including my own advisor, Loadra. What are they up to? The Church never does anything without a reason, and such a major U-turn must have one hell of a reason behind it.”

Even Loadra
, he thought,
whom I have heard several times cursing the Reagold Corporation openly and vehemently, has been complimentary about their work and their products, preaching a sermon of a bright future with Reagold and Earth combined.
Did I detect a certain discomfort with the words he spoke? I remember feeling at the time that his manner was of one forced by circumstance to say things he did not truly believe.

“Unfortunately I am not privy to the inner workings of the Church, Controller. If I were I might be able to answer your questions.”

“And what of Aks? Our latest reports from there indicate that the government, under its new Leader, has turned from the path of subtle
protection
to open and brutal
suppression
. Is my own government heading that way? Will I be forced into such violent reactions? What have the Larnian Church to gain from an alliance with Reagold?”

Markland shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The Controller’s words were dangerously close to heresy. Although Markland commanded the armed forces, he had no doubt as to the power and influence of the Church. Through his many campaigns, his numerous battles, he had always remained faithful to two ideals, Earth and the true Larnian faith. The Controller was just a man. A man he had sworn loyalty to, but nevertheless just a man.

The Controller turned back to the window. So many questions, but he had no answers, just an increasing feeling of paranoia and the need to have trusted people around him. Was Markland one he could trust? He had to believe so.

He turned his eyes to look over the green treetops into the mist-shrouded distance. Barely discernible, little more than a shadow in the mist, was the great structure of the Rees Bridge, connecting his Palace, which occupied an area of land that his cultural advisors told him was once known, before the wars, as Great Britain, to the smaller official residence of Loadra. He had read once that the smaller land mass had been called Ireland, but now it was an annex of his Palace. Places that in history seemed to have such grandeur, whose names conjured tales of continental wars and people with different customs, different appearances, even different languages, were now building complexes in his world, a united world under one government, one religion.

He couldn't help but wish he lived in those ancient times.

So much more interesting. So much more life!

His thoughts were interrupted by his desk communicator.

"Yes?"

Triggered by his voice, the communicator crackled and a faintly metallic, inhuman voice filled the room.

"High Priest Loadra is here to see you Controller."

The voice grated with him and he thought wistfully of the soft, human voices of the communicators on 'Armistice'. The Reagold Corporation once more infiltrated his thoughts.

"Let him enter."

The door slid open and Loadra strode in, his mane of black hair seemingly even wilder after the events on 'Armistice'. He looked harried, impatient. The Controller allowed himself a small smile. He had summoned Loadra a short time ago and it was obvious that the summons was inconvenient. He gained some small pleasure from the knowledge.

"Sit down Loadra. Take a moment to calm yourself. You look flustered."

The High Priest sat himself, reluctantly, in a chair across the Controller's desk, next to Markland, whom he acknowledged with a brief nod.

The Controller remained standing at the window, his back towards the two men, looking out over the forest, across to the Rees Bridge. The existence of both was a measure of the technological marvels capable by Earth's own scientists and technicians and, while it was true that they were no real match for those employed by the Reagold Corporation, their ability was unquestioned. So why the sudden support for Reagold from the Church? More questions. Perhaps Loadra could answer some of them?

"You wished to speak to me, Controller." Loadra's voice, although under tight control, betrayed his impatience and annoyance at this sudden request for a meeting.

The Controller sighed, just enough to let Loadra know how much it saddened him to see his religious advisor so agitated, and turned away from the view. He crossed to his chair and seated himself, leaning back, steepling his fingers under his chin.

"Tell me about the Reagold Corporation." The Controller's voice was soft, almost inaudible, but the effect of his words on Loadra were obvious. The High Priest failed to hide the moment of panic that quickly subsided into caution and perhaps even a trace of fear.

What are you afraid of revealing? What secrets do you and your Church share with Reagold?

"You know their history as well as I do," said Loadra, his words slow and considered.

"I know what the historians tell us, and I know that the Larnian Church always considered the Reagold Corporation an evil thing, an enemy of Larn. So, tell me, why is the Church now so eager to allow Reagold onto Earth? Indeed, not only allow, but welcome with open arms?"

How much does he know or suspect?
thought Loadra.
I must be careful. I have to presume he knows nothing and hope that is true.

"I am not privy to all the reasons behind the decisions of the High Council, Controller. As you know, I was with you on 'Armistice' when this decision was first taken."

"Come now, Loadra. I'm sure you were in contact with them in some way. I can't believe they would leave one of their senior High Priests, the advisor to the Controller of Earth, out of such an important decision."

He's guessing,
thought Loadra.
He doesn't know about my secret communications network. Only guessing.

"Some things have to be decided immediately, even without some important members being present."

"Even so, I'm sure you must have questioned such a radical change of policy? Ah, but I'm forgetting that you have had a similarly spectacular change of heart. I heard your sermon the other day on the wonders of Reagold technology, and yet I seem to remember a sermon less than a year ago re-affirming the evils and heresies of that same corporation. Could you perhaps explain this to me?"

Loadra hesitated only a second before answering.

"We are all entitled to change our minds, Controller. I admit that I was wrong in my previous estimations of the Reagold Corporation."

Shigra forgive me. These words are almost as difficult to say as that sermon. The necessities of this time sicken me.

The Controller said nothing, simply stared at his religious advisor.

His eyes shift. He refuses to look directly at me. His voice is strong, but a faint tremor betrays his nervousness.

The Controller swivelled his chair so that he once more looked towards the window. From this low vantage he could not see the forest, but the ghostly image of the Rees Bridge loomed up in the swirling mist

He's lying. I don't believe he has changed his mind about Reagold, but he has been ordered to say otherwise. What is the Church planning?

"Tell me about the representative Reagold are sending to us. I believe her name is Tina Harrison?" The Controller spoke without turning his chair.

"I believe so, Controller."

"Have you met her before?"

"No."

A slight hesitation before answering,
thought the Controller.
He's lying again.

"Do you know anything about her at all?"

"I believe she is a Senior Marketing Executive for the Corporation. She is apparently well qualified and highly recommended for the task."

"The report both of us has received told me that."

"I don't know anything other than what is in that report, Controller." Loadra shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

Why is he questioning this so much? Does he suspect? No. He may suspect the Church of having some ulterior motive but he doesn't know what that might be. It's not the first time the Larnian Church has involved itself in intrigue, but always for the benefit of Earth.

The Controller stood and crossed to the window once more, seeking calm and peace in the view.

Loadra is hiding something. His Church is hiding something.

"Is there any chance that you might give a straight answer to any of my questions?"

"Controller?" Loadra feigned hurt in his voice. "All my answers have been straight. I wouldn't try to fool you."

"You don't know any other way," snapped the Controller.

He turned and raised a hand to suppress Loadra's defence.

"Please don't deny it, Loadra. I'm too tired to play these word games."

I shouldn't have lost control, should have kept my voice calm. I really am too tired.

He forced his voice to be calm with just a trace of weariness. "You may go now. Thank you for attending so promptly. You too Commander. Thank you for being present."

Loadra rose from his chair, his worried expression hidden from the Controller. The Church did not want the Controller taking too close a personal interest in this Reagold situation. He glanced towards Markland and thought he detected a similar worry there. That was good. There might yet come a time when the Church needed the support of the military.

"Oh, Loadra?" The Controller turned away from the window and crossed to his desk, glancing briefly at his auto-diary where it glowed in the surface of the desk. "Please inform your High Council that I wish to be present when Reagold's representative arrives? I think it only right that I be there at such a momentous occasion."

Chapter 42

What am I doing? I'm no hero.

Steve Drake lay on his bunk aboard The Seven Deadly Sins, staring at the cabin ceiling, dull, metallic, practical but uninspiring. He pulled his gaze away, glancing at the walls, equally dull and metallic, at the floor, which could not hide its true nature even beneath the thin, worn material that passed for a carpet.

His eyes finally settled upon the flight-time indicator set in the far wall. 23:47. Twenty-three hours and forty seven minutes since he had lifted off from Sellit.

Why am I doing this? Pride? Revenge? More like insanity!

Beneath him he could feel the low hum of the engines, hear the slight whine of the air control system all around him. He thought briefly of the autopilot moving him steadily towards the programmed destination. Why? Why had he chosen to go to Aks?

No, not even chosen. More than that. I argued that I should go. I forced myself forward to go. I made those bastards at the Inner Council give me permission to leave for Aks.

Because Aks was where the Szuiltan and Human cultures were clashing. Because Aks was where there was an active resistance to the Szuiltans. And because there were rumours that the Szuiltan President himself may soon travel to Aks.

"I must be insane." The words were whispered but seemed louder, sibilant echoes clashing with the air system whine.

"Yes?" The internal communications system made him jump. He had almost forgotten there was anyone else on board. He had
definitely
forgotten that the system was open.

"Just talking to myself." He swung his legs off the side of the bunk and sat up, composing himself. "Why aren't you resting? I told you, there's nothing we can do until we get closer."

"I know." The voice from the small grill alongside the flight-time indicator was young, a slight tremble of excitement betraying what Steve saw as immaturity. How could anyone with any maturity find excitement in this situation? "I just wanted to watch what was going on."

Why did I agree to taking him with me?
Steve smiled grimly.
Because that was the condition under which they'd let me go. But someone so young, so inexperienced?

They claimed he was a tried and trusted agent. Steve suspected he was a junior, perhaps even a trainee.