Renn - part 4
The garden was beautiful, despite the day's heat and cloying humidity. Renn navigated it painfully, his modified armor moving for his paralyzed right side smoothly enough to portray the gait of a tired, old man. Bulky robes hid the armor and muffled the hum of the microservos, but they had to avoid soft surfaces, or the SCARAB's mass would leave deep, telltale footprints. Finally, a hood concealed his face.
Not even my true face, he thought bitterly. He had lost so much weight in the last three days that he'd been forced to order the doctor to inject orthoflesh to pad his features out. And the medication came frequently now, geared to dull the pain and preserve his faculties from the ravages of the alien cancer that ate through his nervous system. The symptoms worsened swiftly in the last days, the doctor had said.
"Is this prudent, my Lord? A meeting out here?" Tanar Geliss hovered at his side, flat-faced but vigilant. "It is a public garden, after all. Why risk anyone seeing you?" She was dressed in similar robes, but wore no armor. Instead, she was in constant commlink contact with her squad. If anyone sought to harm the Prime, she would have a dozen armored warriors there within seconds. For someone as concerned with security as she was, however, mere seconds would seem an age.
"Peace, Geliss," Renn said, as he followed the flagstone path around a raised pond scattered with the thick purple and rose blooms of taisha lilies and heavy with their sweet, ethereal scent. "I need to concentrate."
"Of course, my Lord." She fell silent, ashamed, perhaps, at her outburst. Only with the greatest reluctance had she made the arrangements for Renn to leave his quarters clandestinely. A pair of Firespeakers, a branch of the Bright Temple, had sought audience with the Phoenix Prime. After a brief visit, he and Geliss had emerged wearing the priests' robes. It was a thin ruse, and Renn doubted the Diamond Sword had been fooled. Yet no one had offered them an escort, no niwa'aban had materialized on nearby walls, and no pulse sensors probed them for weaponry.
When the message requesting a meeting had come from the apartments of the Imperial Legate, Renn resolved to go. Doubtless the Imperials were fishing for a closer firsthand observation of the Phoenix Prime. Fine. Let them look. Renn's anger at his new certainty about the 'ghosts' and their connection to the Diamond Sword burned through him with such heat he wondered it didn't purge the cancer from his blood. The Imperials might be dupes as well - or they might be part of the mystery.
They'd all been played for fools by the Triad. All the Tribes of Man, that is. Who knew what the sandrakers were behind? The rise of Malderi? The madness of Konovalev? Ecocide on Hepta Ourubis Two? The war ready to explode from Ymir?
How much did they know? And most importantly, what were they trying to communicate to him?
Ahead of them, a short rise of stone steps ascended to a stand of trees. The appointed meeting place. He stopped to rest a moment and compose himself. His temples throbbed, and his heart pounded like a frenzied drum at one of the flag combats. And always, the pain. Even masked by the drugs, it still lapped at him with razor-hot tongues, as if his nerves smouldered like coals beneath the skin and muscle.
Bright Lord, Savior of Humanity, be with me now, he prayed. Let me pierce this net of darkness and find my way to the truth so that I may serve Your Will.
"Wait here, Geliss." To the rebellious flash of her eyes, he returned a hard smile. "You are close enough, Tanar, if peril looms. Besides, we both know there is little enough to save." A cruel reminder, but Renn meant to be frank, not self-pitying. If his autonomous nervous system crashed, he would die within a few agonizingly long minutes.
He trudged up the stair, focusing on moving as smoothly as possible for the watchers who undoubtedly tracked every heavy step.
It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the shade. It was only slightly cooler within the grove, the persistent humidity knowing no barriers but thick walls and air filtrations systems. A simple wooden bench waited amid a stand of bamboo, and a small shrine bore the flaming countenance of the Bright Lord, who had risen after perishing in the land of the dead over a thousand years ago. It was the same image used on the banner of the Children of Phoenix: a face so bright from the Holy Spirit within that the flesh hindered the light no more than glass. Some said the image represented the moment of Blessed Harabec's death, but Renn knew better. He knew it showed the moment of the immortal's Rebirth and return to life.
"My Lord?" A man emerged from behind the stand of bamboo. He was tall and spare, with an esthete's features and thin black hair. He wore antique spectacles, one lens a blue triangle, the other a ruby oval. His garb hugged the skin and was entirely black save for a ruffled gold sash hanging from the right shoulder. "I am Etnoman yir Thau-Yuros, His Excellency's envoy." He put his hands together and gave a small bow. "I am gratified that you accepted my invitation."
Renn nodded graciously. "Curiosity, Honored Envoy. I could not contain it at the prospect of such an unusual meeting with such an Imperial luminary."
Thau-Yuros shook his head. "No, my Lord, hardly a luminary. But tell me: what is so unusual about meeting with me?"
"In a public garden? Surely such openness is unusual, as we both have secure apartments in which we could speak without fear of eavesdropping?"
"Ah." Thau-Yuros produced a thin smile. "But our quarters are well monitored, with many crevices and hidden listeners to make up for the denuding of electronic countermeasures. The public gardens are not, however, so crafted." He held up a beringed hand. "Rest assured that no one can track our conversation here while I am present. Our people - yours and mine, I trust - will prevent strangers from coming too close."
Imperial technology could easily block Sworder electronic surveillance, Renn knew, and his own communications as well. "May I signal my Tanar so that she does not fear the worst from the lapse in radio contact?"
"Of course, my Lord." The Imperial seated himself on the bench and crossed one leg over the other, his demeanor one of complete relaxation. "At your leisure."
Renn instructed Geliss to wait and watch, and informed her about the Imperial signal shield. She sounded crisp as usual, but he heard the frustration edging her words.
He faced Thau-Yuros without sitting. If his condition deteriorated rapidly, Renn might soon lose all ability to stand, so he determined to enjoy it while he could.
"Tell me your purpose plainly if you please, Thau-Yuros. I presume you haven't called me here to negotiate over the Kepler March again, or to cite the latest reasons I should allow Unitech to expand its trade routes though Phoenix space."
If Renn's blunt approach discomfited the Imperial, Thau-Yuros didn't show it.
"No, my Lord Prime," he said, "I did not ask you here to discuss trivialities. What I wish to discuss concerns life and death." Abandoning his relaxed pose, he leaned forward and looked up at Renn solemnly, the spectacles gleaming even in the dim light. "You are dying, are you not?"
Inwardly nonplussed, Renn kept his expression bland. "All men die, Envoy."
"True, my Lord, but in the Empire, we have many ways of prolonging life. Even now, we are on the brink of some amazing discoveries. But you, you are dying now. Even as we speak."
Renn said nothing.
Thau-Yuros raised an eyebrow. "You think I am fishing in the datastreams, my Lord? Very well." His elbows in his lap, he steepled his fingers. "You have contracted Grakropen's Disease, an extremely rare xenocancer that attacks less than one percent of beta-zeradine positive neuroclasses. Our records identify you as fitting the b-z profile, and your observable symptoms match the progression of the disease with exactitude. Grakropen's is always deadly, exceedingly painful, and has so far remained incurable."
"Undoubtedly an unpleasant fate for the afflicted, Envoy. But even if your guesses were accurate - and I do not admit they have substance - what is there to discuss?"
"My sensors detect elevated temperature and blood pressure, as well as several unusual devices operating beneath that quaint powered armor you wear under your robes, my Lord. Come now, there are few secrets between us in this matter."
Renn felt himself flush and cursed himself and the accuracy of Imperial sensor technology. "This quaint powered armor is the same variety worn by the warriors who destroyed your Emperor's saar-marines at Kepler, Thau-Yuros. Mock me if you will, but be honest about the accomplishments of the First Tribe." He lacked the strength to keep patience through this sparring. "I must ask you to come to the point."
Thau-Yuros straightened and assumed a serious expression. "I do not mock you, my Lord. Forgive me if it appeared so. I came here to ask you a question. One question only."
"Ask it then!" Renn said, patience vanishing. His insides continued to gnaw on themselves, and he felt fatigue creeping over him.
"What price would you pay for a cure?"
Stunned, Renn stared at the other. Then his brain began to work again, and he clamped his mouth shut. There is no cure, Renn, he told himself. None. The Imperial viper seeks to blind you with false hope.
"There is no cure," he said. "You said so yourself." He prepared to leave, but the Envoy's voice caught him up short.
"There is a cure, my Lord Gistos. We have one in the Empire now, proven to be effective even in the last days of the disease." Thau-Yuros projected only sincerity, but Renn knew the oily-mouthed ways of Imperial diplomats. They could lie the stars from the night sky when they chose.
"You lie, Envoy," he said tonelessly.
Thau-Yuros gave the faintest of smiles. "No, my Lord, I do not lie, though I understand how a man who has resigned himself to death can be unwilling to retreat from his resolve. Will you not hear me out?"
A fresh twinge from his good arm sent a pang of fear through Renn and delayed an answer. When the pain finally faded, he exhaled in relief.
"What price do you ask, then? Kepler?" He knew in his bones it would be more than that.
The Envoy's smile grew a fraction wider. "My Lord, we are pleased to provide the cure to you, along with advanced restorative treatment to help you regain lost function. Our anagathic regimen would also be freely available to extend your years. As a price, we ask only one thing." His face hardened. "An oath from you to serve the Empress, to aid her against the Scourge. It can be a secret oath. No one need know but you."
Anger stirred again in Renn, banishing the encroaching fatigue. "How convenient. What would this produce for the Empire?"
"Naturally, there would be concessions. Guidance. But certain assurances as well. The Empire would cede the Kepler March to your tribe's claim. You would find yourselves the beneficiaries of… Imperial industry." Thau-Yuros dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You could force the Tribes of Man to unify."
Renn closed his eyes. Inside his body, he felt the disease like a malign twin growing inside him. It had been months since he had gone pain-free for longer than an hour. Longer than that since he had slept well for an entire night. Harabec only knew how tempting it was.
"Live, my Lord," urged Thau-Yuros. "Do not throw away this chance. It would benefit your people as well."
"My people," said Renn, "fled the Empire centuries ago to live free of its corruption of spirit."
"Ancient history. We have both changed, my Lord, and we have need of each other."
"How do you know you could trust me?"
"We would trust your word, of course. Should we not? Tribal honor is legendary in the Empire."
Renn snorted. "Yes, I'm sure you find it quite quaint." Bright Lord, he thought, give me strength! Just the thought of being free from the escalating pain was enough to weaken him. He fought back tears. A cure--! He had given up hope for himself.
But the Bright Lord had fought beyond hope in the cold wastes of Pluto, offering himself to the Cybrids so that his brother might live. Could Renn give up his own sacrifice and still be true to Harabec? Could he still serve his tribe and his God while sworn to the Empire?
"Do you have an answer for me, my Lord? If you wish to consider the question, you may send word to me tomorrow."
Renn inhaled sharply, coming to a decision. "That will not be necessary. I refuse."
Thau-Yuros stood. "Are you certain, my Lord? I have read the reports on the final stages of the disease. They were most discomfiting."
"Don't try to frighten me, Envoy."
"Is that your final answer?"
Renn nodded. "All men die when the Bright Lord calls them."
"Very well." Thau-Yuros tugged at his gold sash. "If you reconsider, send word to my apartments."
Now that he had decided, a great weight lifted from Renn's heart. "Thank you, but I don't plan to reconsider."
The Imperial Envoy regarded him with a mixture of contempt and respect. "You're giving up your only chance at survival."
"If survival were my most important goal, I would be a mollusk, not a man." Renn turned and departed, leaving the darkness of the glade behind him.
He saw Geliss hurrying to meet him, and he smiled. The anger against the manipulations of the Triad was still present, but it had annealed to something more sharp and focused. He felt surer of himself than he had for a long time.
Thank you, Bright Lord, O Blessed Harabec. I am Your instrument so long as I can be. My life and death are Yours to wield.
He wondered whether the stones had changed on the board back in his apartments. Surely the answers he sought would emerge there.[1]
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