The End of All Things #2: This Hollow Union Read online

  “That’s why I want you to convince them otherwise.”

  “I appreciate your faith in my abilities.”

  “It’s not faith,” I said. “It’s trust.”

  PART FOUR

  “Which news do you want first?” Vnac Oi asked me. I was in its office again, the first meeting of the sur.

  “You have good news?” I asked.

  “No,” Oi said. “But some of the news is less objectively bad than the rest.”

  “Then by all means let us begin with that.”

  “We’re done with the first pass of semantic and data mining of the Abumwe report,” Oi said. “And we’ve cross-referenced with information we have in our own databases. The very short version is that the data are less problematic than the data in the Ocampo report.”

  “‘Less problematic.’”

  “It means there are fewer obvious untruths compared to, and contradictions with, our own data set.”

  “So you’re saying the Colonial Union, in a refreshing change of circumstances, is actually telling us the truth.”

  “I never said ‘truth,’” Oi said. “I said there were fewer untruths that we can immediately see. And even if they are largely telling the truth, which is something we still have to ascertain, the truth in itself is not necessarily a positive thing. What they are telling the truth about—what information they are sharing with us—is just as relevant. When Abumwe shared this with us what I really wanted to know is what she wasn’t sharing.”

  “I need to know whether you think this Equilibrium group exists and is the threat Abumwe says it is.”

  “Yes to the first, and inconclusive to the second. We need a couple more passes through the data to be sure. But here is the thing about that, Councilor.”

  “I am imagining this is where the less good news graduates into the bad news,” I said.

  “You are correct, because right now it does not matter whether the Abumwe information is true or not,” Oi said. “The general is correct that the Colonial Union and Abumwe dropped a bomb into our lap—a bomb you suggest we let her set off, I will remind you—and now all the chatter I’m hearing is our members triangulating toward it or away from it. We’ve introduced chaos into the usual mix of ambition and venality we lovingly call the Grand Assembly. Before, we had two primary groups in the chamber: those generally drifting away from the Conclave and those generally supporting it. Right now my analysts have identified six distinct emerging philosophical groups. Some of these believe the Ocampo report and some believe the Abumwe, and then there are some who don’t care about the truth value of either but merely whether they can be used as tools to settle political scores. The group that especially worries me at the moment is the one my analysts are calling the ‘purgers.’ You can guess what the purgers want to do.”

  “The general is addressing the Grand Assembly about this very problem.”

  “No doubt because of your advice.”

  “That sounds more accusatory than usual, Director.”

  “Apologies,” Oi said. “I don’t mean to imply it was bad advice. Just that you appear to have more influence over the general than usual recently.”

  “I don’t believe that’s true.”

  “If you say so. At the very least everyone else is too busy to notice.”

  “Do you think the general is worse off than he was before, politically?” I asked, changing the topic.

  “No,” Oi said. “Before Abumwe addressed the Grand Assembly, a large faction had targeted the general in order to push one of their own into power. Now that faction has fragmented and all the factions are fighting each other. So if your plan was to divert attention away from the general, it worked. Of course, now there are complications. What was best for the general in the short term is not, I think, the best for the Conclave in the long term. You do see that, Councilor.”

  “I do,” I said. “We buy time where we may.”

  “You bought yourself time,” Oi agreed. “I don’t think it’s of very good quality.”

  * * *

  In my own office, just before the general’s address, I regarded Ode Abumwe, and she me. “I believe we might be two of a kind,” I said to her, finally. “Two people who believe in the usefulness of truth, despite the environments in which we work.”

  “I am glad you believe so, Councilor,” Abumwe said, and waited for me to continue.

  “You were blunt yesterday in our meeting after your presentation,” I said. “I was hoping you might be again.”

  “As you wish,” Abumwe said.

  “What does the Colonial Union hope to gain by sharing the information you have with us?”

  “We hope to avoid a war with the Conclave,” Abumwe said.

  “Yes,” I said. “But what more than that?”

  “I was given no other brief, either publicly or privately,” Abumwe said. “We knew Ocampo and Equilibrium wanted to set each of us on the other for their own reasons. We knew it would end poorly for us, and that we would be obliged to make it end as poorly as possible for you as we could.”

  “Presenting us this information does not end the potential of conflict between us.”

  “No, of course not. But if conflict happens, it will be because of our own damn foolishness, and not anyone else’s.”

  I smiled widely at this. Abumwe, a professional diplomat, did not flinch. “But you don’t believe that your brief is the whole of the reason this information was given to us,” I said.

  “You’re asking me for my opinion, Councilor.”

  “I am.”

  “No, I don’t,” she said.

  “Will you offer me your thoughts as to some of the other reasons?”

  “That would be irresponsible of me.”

  “Please.”

  “I would imagine we wanted what in fact happened,” Abumwe said. “Using the information to destroy the comity of the Conclave and to force open the fissures that were already developing. You could destroy us, and even if we took you with us that would be of little comfort. Better if you destroyed yourselves without going through us first.”

  “And do you believe that’s how it would happen?” I asked. “That members of the then-former Conclave, individually or severally, would conveniently forget it was your report that started us on the path to our destruction? Would forget Roanoke? Would forget all the other reasons we have to despise you?”

  “What I believe is aside from what my responsibilities are to the Colonial Union.”

  “I understand that,” I said. “But it’s not what I asked.”

  “What I believe is that both our governments are in an impossible situation at the moment, Councilor,” Abumwe said. “We’ve been pushed there by this Equilibrium group, yes. But Equilibrium could not by itself have gotten us to where both of us are now. We can blame this situation on Equilibrium, or on each other. But we are where we are because we put ourselves there. I don’t know if there’s any way for us to avoid what’s coming. The best we can do is put it off and hope something else develops along the way, to save us from ourselves.”

  “Another thing we have in common, Ambassador.”

  “I don’t doubt it, Councilor,” Abumwe said. “The rumor is that the general is going to address the Grand Assembly today.”

  “He is.”

  “He’s hoping to repair the damage my report created.”

  “That’s some of it, yes.”

  “If I’d have been him—or you—I wouldn’t have let me address the assembly.”

  “If we hadn’t have had you do it, we would have different problems.”

  “They might have been better ones.”

  “It’s debatable,” I said.

  “Do you think it will help anything? The general addressing the assembly today.”

  “Let’s hope it does,” I said. “For both our sakes.”

  * * *

  “We are at a critical time in the history of the Conclave,” Tarsem was saying, from the lectern at the focu
s of the Grand Assembly. And then he launched into many more words.

  I was not paying attention to the particular words. From my vantage point behind and to the side of him, I was doing what I do best: I was counting heads. Looking at the ones who were nodding attentively at what he had to say. Looking at the ones which were registering skepticism, or anger, or fear.

  If you think this is an easy task to do across four hundred species, some of which do not have heads which show appreciable emotion, or indeed, some which do not have what might properly be construed as “heads,” I certainly invite you to try it.

  “You need to be paying specific attention to Prulin Horteen,” I said to Tarsem, directly before he began his speech. “She’s the one that Oi has targeted as being the head of this emerging ‘purger’ faction. We need to cut them off before they get any larger.”

  “I know what she is up to,” Tarsem said. “I spoke with Vnac.”

  “When?”

  “Just before I was here. While you were speaking to Ambassador Abumwe. I do have meetings you aren’t present for, you know.”

  “I don’t advise those.”

  “I don’t imagine you would.” Tarsem smiled. “Don’t worry, Hafte. This speech will resolve a number of issues. I’m confident of that.”

  “It could be a start, in any event.”

  “We’ve made a good thing here,” Tarsem said. “The Conclave, I mean. You and I and everyone else in this assembly. It’s been a life’s work making it.”

  “It’s indeed a wonderful thing,” I said. “If we can keep it.”

  “I think we will,” Tarsem said.

  “Start by tamping down Prulin Horteen,” I said. “And Unli Hado while you’re at it.”

  I glanced over to where I knew Hado would be. There was substantial room around him; it appeared he was in bad odor after the Elpri had been accused by Abumwe of participating in Equilibrium. Not too far from him, however, was Prulin Horteen, who no doubt thought she was helping Tarsem by trying to put entire species on the Conclave’s chopping block. I returned my attention to Tarsem, who as it happened was addressing that very issue.

  “… Director Oi and its analysts are even now sifting through the data of both competing reports to tell us what information is accurate, what isn’t, and, importantly, what isn’t being told to us. Until we have that full analysis and report from Oi’s office, I cannot and will not speculate with regard to the loyalties of any of our member nations. Are there individuals within those nations who may mean the Conclave ill? Yes, of course. They will be found and they will be dealt with.

  “But individuals are not precise mirrors of their nations. And regardless of which report you now place your faith in, the Ocampo report or the Abumwe report, the intention behind both is the same: the dissolution and destruction of the Conclave. A return to the violence and savagery between our nations that we all still remember. We cannot allow that to happen. I will not allow that to happen. We are not a hollow union. We all have chosen to take part in this best chance for peace.

  “I repeat: We must not fall back into savagery. We are not a hollow union—”

  Tarsem’s lectern exploded.

  I was not aware of it immediately. I was pushed backward by the blast and toward the ground. My physiology makes me or any Lalan difficult to topple. I fell nonetheless, stunned and deaf, and amazed that somehow I had found myself on the floor.

  Then my mind snapped back into function, I screamed, and I dragged myself over to Tarsem.

  He was torn apart but not dead yet. I grabbed him and held him as his eyes searched around, looking for something to focus on. Finally he found me.

  He said nothing—I don’t believe he could say anything at that point—but simply watched me looking at him, holding him in his last moments of life.

  Then he stopped watching and left me.

  As he did I became aware of the din and madness around me as representatives and their staffs climbed over each other trying to escape the Grand Assembly chamber. Then I became aware of Tarsem’s security staff swarming over me and him, pulling me off of him and dragging the both of us away, me presumably to safety, and Tarsem to oblivion.

  * * *

  “You need to be examined by a physician,” Oi said to me.

  “I’m fine,” I said.

  “You’re not fine. You’re in shock and you’re yelling because you can barely hear. And you are covered in blood, Councilor. Some of it might actually be yours.”

  We were in a secure room not far from the assembly chamber. I was surrounded by members of Tarsem’s security detail, who were no longer his security detail because they had somehow fundamentally managed to fail at their task. The anger I felt at that fact was growing within me; I held it down and looked at the security officer closest to me.

  “Go fetch me a physician,” I said. “Preferably one familiar with Lalans.”

  The security officer looked up at me. “Councilor, perhaps it would be better if you went to the hospital itself, once we’ve secured the area.”

  “I don’t recall asking you for your opinion,” I said. “Do it. Now.”

  The security officer scuttled off. I returned my attention to Oi. “How did you miss this?” I asked.

  “I don’t have a good answer for you right now, Councilor,” Oi said.

  “No, I don’t imagine you do. You don’t have a good answer to how you could have missed someone planning to assassinate the general.” I waved a bloody hand at the remaining security detail. “They don’t have a good answer, I’m sure, how someone slipped past them to place a bomb at the lectern. No one has a good answer for who is in charge of the Conclave right now. We are all without good answers for anything that actually matters right at this very moment.”

  “What would you like me to do, Councilor?” Oi asked.

  “I would like you to go back in time and to have done your goddamned job, Oi!” I said, and this time I was yelling not because I could not hear very well.

  “When this is all over, if you want it, you will have my resignation on your desk,” Oi said.

  I laughed, bitterly. “My desk,” I said.

  “Yes, your desk,” Oi replied, forcefully. “And you’re wrong, Councilor. I don’t have a good answer for you about who killed General Gau. But I have a good answer for who is in charge of the Conclave. It’s you.”

  “That was Tarsem’s job description, Oi. Not mine.”

  “With due respect to the moment and your grief, Councilor, the general is dead. The position is vacant. And it needs to be filled, immediately.”

  “And you don’t think that’s a thought that’s not already occurred to several dozen representatives?”

  “I know it has,” Oi said. “I know that without even having to check with my analysts. And I know what an extended season of would-be General Gaus trying to claim his mantle would cost us.”

  “You take the job, then,” I said. “You’re better qualified for it.”

  “I’m not the right person for the job,” Oi said. “No one would follow me.”

  “You have an entire directory of people who follow you.”

  “They follow the job, Councilor. I don’t flatter myself that their loyalty extends to me.”

  “What makes you think it would extend to me, then?” I asked, and then waved again to the security detail. “Or their loyalty? Or anyone’s?”

  “Councilor, why do you think this security detail is here?” Oi asked. “This was General Gau’s detail. It’s yours now.”

  “I don’t want the job.”

  “Think of who does. Think of who will, once it occurs to them that it’s open.”

  “So you would have me take the job simply to avoid something worse.”

  “Yes,” Oi said. “Although that would not be my main motivation.”

  “And what would be your main motivation?” I asked.

  “To preserve the Conclave,” Oi said. It motioned out, toward the Grand Assembly chamber. “Unli Had
o wants the position for his own personal ambition, as would a dozen other representatives. Prulin Horteen would take it to settle scores, as would another dozen representatives. Ristin Lause, were it offered to her, and it wouldn’t be, would take it out of the bureaucratic instinct to keep things running. None of them truly understand why the Conclave is more important than themselves or their immediate goal. In all three cases—in every case—it would end in ruin.”

  “It might buy time,” I said.

  “We have bought all the time we can buy, Councilor,” Oi said. “The general has just paid for all of it. There is no more time. There are only the choices we have in front of us right now. You take control of the Conclave, or allow someone else to. One choice will preserve the union. The other won’t.”

  “You have a lot of faith in me, Oi.”

  “I have absolutely no faith in you, Councilor,” Oi said. “What I have is analysis. You don’t think I haven’t been modeling what would happen after the general left power, do you? Who would try to claim his position and what would happen from there?”

  “No, I suppose that would be your job,” I said. “Although I didn’t expect to be part of that math.”

  “If anyone else said that I would call that false modesty,” Oi said. “In your case it’s not, I know. You’ve always been the one to walk behind, Councilor. But there is no one for you to walk behind anymore. The Conclave needs you to step forward.”

  I looked around the room, at the security detail there. All ready for something.

  “I don’t want the job,” I repeated to Oi.

  “I know,” Oi said. “But with all due respect, Councilor, at the moment I don’t care about what you want. I care about what you will do.”

  The security officer returned, a Lalan in tow.

  “You’re a medical doctor,” I said.

  “Yes,” the Lalan said. “Dr. Omed Moor, ma’am.”

  “Well, Doctor?” I held out my arms. “Am I dead?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  I put my arms down. “Then that’s all the time I have for a checkup at the moment, I’m afraid. Thank you, Doctor.” I turned from the bewildered doctor to Oi. “Does your analysis include you working on my behalf?”