Read The End of All Things #2: This Hollow Union Online
Authors: John Scalzi
The End of All Things #2: This Hollow Union (11 page)
“That puts you in a bad position with us in respect to the Colonial Union,” Lowen said. “Without your trade and material support, a number of our governments will start to look favorably at the CU again.”
“I don’t have any choice in the matter,” I said. “Until things are settled I can’t allow humanity to be a distraction to the Conclave.” I turned to Abumwe. “With that said, let it be known that if the Colonial Union takes any hostile action against the Earth, the Conclave will assume the Colonial Union is doing so in order to build up its military and colonial populations, with the intent of attacking the Conclave and setting up new colonies. I don’t think I have to tell you what our response will be.”
“We have no intention of attacking the Earth,” Abumwe said.
“Attacking the Earth
again,
” I said. “Our official point of view, Ambassador. For now.”
“I can’t say that I’m happy with this choice.”
“I don’t need you to be happy with it, Ambassador. I would like for you to understand why it’s necessary.”
Abumwe turned to Lowen. “And you? What’s going to be the Earth’s official position on Equilibrium?”
“I couldn’t tell you,” Lowen said. “We only just found out it existed. Or that you allege that it
does
exist. I’ll take your information back to Earth with me, of course, and share it. You can expect a high amount of skepticism.”
“I understand. But if I may ask, what do you think, Ambassador Lowen? Privately.”
Lowen looked at me before continuing. “I would very much like to believe the Colonial Union had nothing to do with the destruction of Earth Station. I would very much like to believe that it means us no harm. But I don’t know if we can
trust
the Colonial Union, Ambassador. As much as I would like to. I don’t see it happening.”
“Perhaps we’ll find a way to earn it,” Abumwe said.
“I know a way you can start,” Lowen said.
“Tell me.”
“My ship blew up,” Lowen said. “And I’ve just been told that we can’t stay here to wait for another one to arrive. I could use a ride home.”
* * *
“The humans are off?” I asked Oi, as it came up to me. I was in the Lalan park. I was taking my last few minutes of peace in what was likely to be a very long time.
“A serti ago,” it said. “The
Chandler
was rather crowded, as I understand it. They are going to Earth first to drop off Lowen and her team. Then I understand they are back to Phoenix Station.”
“Understood.”
“Not necessarily a very good idea to let them spend more time together,” Oi said. “The two varieties of human. Our people have a hard enough time making a distinction between them.”
“I’m not sure we had a choice,” I said. “We needed them all away, sooner than later.”
“We found it, by the way,” Oi said. “The weapon that attacked the
Odhiambo.
”
“What was it?”
“A very interesting new toy. A particle beam weapon, heavily cloaked in material that scatters electromagnetic radiation. We literally ran into it, otherwise we wouldn’t have found it. The weapon had no particular manufacturing marks on it but my analysts guessed it might be human manufacture.”
“The Colonial Union?”
“Or these Equilibrium people, borrowing their designs. We’ll figure it out, but at the moment your guess is as good as mine. We figure either it was skipped in just before the
Odhiambo,
or it’s been sitting out there for a while, waiting for a target.”
“Are you looking for more of them?”
“We are now,” Oi said. “You’ll understand when I say they’re hard to find. When you’re elected leader you might authorize some more resources to the task.”
“Indeed. And, how is the vote going?”
“It’s going uneventfully,” Oi said. “You will be elected leader of the Conclave in just a few ditu, I expect. It would have been done sooner but some of the representatives can’t vote without making a speech.”
“How hard did you have to work to change minds?”
“Not as hard as I might have in any other circumstance,” Oi said. “People are still in shock about the general. They know who you were to him. Many of them are voting for you as a final way to honor him.”
“That’s a sentiment that would amuse Tarsem,” I said.
“I’m sure,” Oi said. “Not that I didn’t have to threaten a couple of representatives, of course. But, again, fewer than I might have to otherwise.”
“I’ll need their names.”
“You’ll have them. Try not to have them killed.”
“I’m more subtle than that.”
“You’ll have them killed later, you mean.”
“I won’t have them killed at all. Just their careers.”
“When the vote is final they will want you to speak to the Grand Assembly.”
“Of course,” I said. “I’ll be ready. Thank you, Oi. That will be all.”
“One more thing,” Oi said, and produced in its tendrils a paper envelope. “A letter.”
“From whom?”
“From the general,” it said. “He gave it to me in our last meeting. He asked me to hold it and to give it to you, after his speech. He told me I would know when to give it to you.” It held it out to me. “I think it’s all right to give it to you now.”
I took the letter. “I assume you read it,” I said.
“In fact that is the one piece of information on this entire asteroid that I have not read.”
“Remarkable,” I said, looking at the envelope. “How did
that
happen, I wonder.”
“Simple. The general asked me not to.” Oi nodded and departed.
I opened the envelope and read the letter inside.
Hello, Hafte.
First I will apologize. If you are reading this, you are now leader of the Conclave. I know it’s not a position you wanted for yourself, and if you resent me a little for making you take it I understand. But also understand that I can’t imagine that the next leader of the Conclave would be anyone but you. You have too long contented yourself to be the advisor and the councilor. It’s not that I did not value your advice and counsel. But I always understood that your talents were not being used to their best extent, either by yourself or the Conclave. Now they will be. I hope you can forgive me for giving you that final push.
Not too long ago you and I sat in the Lalan park and you told me the story of Loomt Both and how he almost doomed the Lalans to extinction. You said to me that it was best for your people to have their pain early, to grow into their wisdom. I have come to believe the same is true for the Conclave. We had growing pains, rebellions, and loss. But none of these events have fixed the Conclave, changed it from a disparate collection of peoples into a single, galvanized nation. It needs something to be that catalyst.
If you are reading this, then you know what that catalyst was.
I set the letter down, trying to make sense of what I had just read. I looked around the park, and saw nothing but greenery, and a single young Lalan, mindlessly swimming in the pond. After a few moments I started reading again.
You were right. When the Conclave was an idea, and when it was growing, I was the right leader for it. But I’m not the right leader for it now. It needs someone else, someone with a cannier set of political skills. Someone like you. But neither can I simply step away and fade into the background. We both know there are those in the Grand Assembly who would have no intention of allowing me to pick my own successor. The process would be drawn out and messy and at the end of it I would be what you feared I would become—just another politician, who left the stage long after he should have.
Instead I choose to become something else: A symbol. A legend. A martyr to the Conclave. And, to be less precious about it, a bludgeon for you to pummel anyone who dares to get out of line, for a good long time now. I’ve given you a tool to build the founding myth of the Conclave—to set it on a path toward wisdom rather than dissolution. I trust that you will know how to do it. You would know how to do it better than I would.
Now, as to the matter of my death. I am reasonably certain that Vnac Oi has suspicions; it is very good at its job. I am also reasonably certain that it has no intention of delving too deeply into the mystery, or rather, will be content to pin it on some conveniently unprovable set of circumstances. This will leave you, and only you, to know the true nature of events. The only accounting of it is in this letter. What you do with this knowledge is entirely your choice. From my point of view there is no wrong answer. But I think you know what I would suggest you do. At least for now.
There is nothing left to say other than this: I wish I could be there to see you do what will come next. I cannot. Instead I will take comfort in knowing that you will be the one to finish our work. To set the Conclave’s future in stone.
I wish you joy in the work, my dear Hafte.
Tarsem
I stared at the letter for a good long while, seeing the page but not reading the words.
Then slowly, deliberately, I tore the letter into pieces as small as I could make them and tossed them into the pond.
The paper drank in the water of the pond, turning to bits of pulp, and the ink on the individual torn shreds of letter spread and ran, obliterating any chance of legibility. After several moments there was nothing left of the letter but my memory of it.
“Madam Premier,” Oi said, behind me.
I turned and saw it, along with Umman, my assistant.
“‘Madam Premier.’ So that is my title now,” I mused.
“It is, Madam Premier,” Umman said.
“Your presence is requested in the Grand Assembly chamber,” Oi said. “The Grand Assembly would acknowledge you as the Conclave’s leader.”
“I would be pleased to see it,” I said.
“They have also asked if you would speak to them.”
“If they wish.”
“May I tell them what you will say?”
“Yes,” I said. “You may tell them that I intend to say the following: The union is preserved.”
JOHN SCALZI
is one of the most popular and acclaimed SF authors to emerge in the last decade. His debut,
Old Man’s War,
won him science fiction’s John W. Campbell Award for Best New Writer. His
New York Times
bestsellers include
The Last Colony, Fuzzy Nation,
his most recent novel
Lock In,
and also
Redshirts,
which won 2013’s Hugo Award for Best Novel. Material from his widely read blog
Whatever
(
whatever.scalzi.com
) has earned him two other Hugo Awards as well. He lives in Ohio with his wife and daughter. You can sign up for email updates
here
.
OTHER TOR BOOKS BY
JOHN SCALZI
Your Hate Mail Will Be Graded:
A Decade of Whatever, 1998–2008