"Where do I find him, Bruen?"
"I can't tell you just were he is at this precise moment. But, assuming that you and I come to a satisfactory agreement concerning Free Space, we'll bring the two of you together."
"I don't make a good hostage — nor will my son."
The old man laughed, then winced as if the action pained him. "I wouldn't make a very good Seddi if I instantly succumbed to your every demand either, would I? Suffice it to say that, considering current Regan policy on Targa, your son is safer than you are. If Ily knew you were here, I doubt she'd leave a stone untouched in her search for you. And, Staffa, you and must come to some sort of agreement about Free Space — and the role of the Companions. I'll show you the data if you like, but you've got to believe that war between Rega and Sassa will doom us all."
"Stopping that war will bedifficult. I've positioned them, groomed them." Staffa frowned, steepling his fingers. "The key, of course, is the Companions. With instant surgical strikes, I could keep damage to a minimum, avoid destroying planetary resources. If Rega moves in the next couple of months, however, it will be a disaster."
Bruen wiped his fleshy nose and grunted. "They'll waste each other's planets until nothing is left. The machine. wel, it may play a role, too. We can't underestimate it."
"Bruen, I think the time has come to develop a new epistemology."
"What do you want, Staffa? What's your ultimate goal? Domination of Free Space? To be declared Emperor of humanity?"
"I want to break the Forbidden Borders, Bruen. What's your price for cooperation?"
"Freedom for the Seddi to preach where they will— including among your Companions."
"You have my word on it."
Bruen filled his lungs and exhaled wearily. "Who would have thought?" He paused, chuckled weakly, and added, "Then perhaps it's time to begin tearing down the walls between us. Kaylla said you told her about your parents?" "I did. "
"Staffa, many years ago, the Seddi and Myklene had strong and friendly ties. We shared a great deal of trade with Myklene. At the time, Rega was simply a three-world hegemony-a budding industrial base. Phillipia was attempting to expand into other… but I stray.
"Myklene sent numerous vessels to Targa and we traded raw metals for finished products. We also traded something else-information processing through the Mag Comm. Oh, to be sure, it hadn't awakened at the time, it was simply the finest computer in all of Free Space.
"The point of all this is that a young man from Myklene showed up at our temple in Kaspa. He paid us very well for access to the machine and ran raw data through the Mag Comm. Power doesn't always derive from the right answers-rather, it is born of asking the right questions. Through the years-as a result of his connections with us and the questions he asked-he gained a' considerable reputation. All of which carried him to the heights of power on Myklene. Then Rega captured Targa and cut off our services to Myklene-and the rest of Free Space, for that matter. Our order was outlawed, and the rest is now history."
"This man," Staffa ventured. "You talk of the Praetor?" "I do. Of course, while Tybalt the Imperial Fourth harried us and tried to eliminate the Seddi, we weren't completely without our own means. We adapted well, went underground, and began the long tedious process of infiltrating both Rega and Sassa. Myklene never threatened us since the Praetor went to great lengths to establish communication links to the Mag Comm."
"Go on. "
"Tell me about your mother?" "I don't see what this- "Just tell me!"
Off balance, Staffa answered, "She was blonde, thin, with-"
"That's enough. And your father?"
"Redheaded, overweight with-"
"Enough." Bruen lifted himself from the bed, some color back in his face. He took a water dispenser and put the tube in his mouth, drinking as he eyed
Staffa.
"If this has a point, I would-"
"You still rush through life, Staffa. Learn to be patient. Much will come to those who think first and act later," Bruen reminded with almost paternal concern. "Now, consider what you know about genetics. Dominance and recessives?"
"I'm familiar with the…. What do my parents …… He blinked. "My hair is blackP'
"Yes," Bruen agreed, "Your hair is black."
"But that means they're not…. Then they weren't my parents. 9'
"No, they weren't," Bruen agreed, placing fragile hands on his rounded belly. "Blonde and red hair are both recessive. At least one of your parents had to have black hairlike yours.
"Do you know who….
"Sorry, Lord Commander. We have no way of knowing. Suffice it to say that if any records exist, they probably remain on Myklene."
Staffa winced at the thought. He remembered the Civil Records Building-smoking rubble, girders, and supports half-melted from a direct thermal hit.
So, you may never know. Is that truly important to you, Staffa kar Therma? I am what and who I am. No more, no less.
"Tell me, Bruen, how do you justify the deaths of so many simply to kill one man? Do you consider your actions ethical?"
Bruen's gaze shifted to the rock overhead. "I justify it with great difficulty. Magister Hyde and I planned and considered most diligently. How much is the survival of the species worth, Lord Commander? We felt that it was necessary-and we condemned ourselves. You had to be stopped. The machine left no doubt about the final outcome."
Staffa closed his eyes, starting as if struck by a fist. Images of his dreams flashed strobelike through his mind. Gravitational pulses convulsed amidst the horror of blasted
cities. Slave columns plodded toward transports, collars tight about their necks, eyes dull with disbelief. Here a mother cried over fragments of her child's body. There a young girl screamed as men held her naked limbs, panting for the chance to rape her. Flames lapped yellow-orange into spirals of black smoke as human dreams and hopes burned in a gluttonous fire of destruction.
"Indeed." The old man's voice trembled. "All that blood we cost went for nothing, Staffa. Nothing!"
Staffa pulled up a leg and draped an arm across it, seeing the old man through a dull mist of pain.
"You see," Bruen continued, "we don't have our solution. In the original permutations, the Companions would disintegrate without your leadership, establishing a third autonomous power in Free Space. Face it, most of your people are getting older. They have families. The wanderlust and need for plunder and rapine are wearing out.
"You ask about ethics?" Bruen barked a laugh. "You see, we truly believe in God and humanity and knowledge, Lord Commander. We believe in shared God Mind to the point that we will sacrifice a little of it here and there to better the state of all humanity. We look at the future and see chaos. Economically, both empires are bankrupt. War will bring a dark age. Whole planets-starting with the best ones-will be burned off, utterly destroyed to deprive the other side of resources. With enough of the good planets like Targa and Rega and Myklene and Sassa and Phillipia radioactive, where will humankind get the materials it needs to survive? Famine, thirst, disease, and slow death will destroy the species." He shrugged brokenly.
Staffa laughed sourly, depressed by both this future projection and the confining rock that surrounded him. "So I reap the ultimate benefit of what I invested." His mind raced, playing the scenario as it must unfold. "And this Sinklar Fist? Doesn't he change the probabilities?"
Bruen nodded. "He does. With his apparent skills in Rega's control, they will make an end of Sassa very quickly. Our problem with Fist lies in the fact that we don't have enough data on his potentials. For instance, will he blast Sassa first? How many Sassan resources can he save? What will the Sassan retaliation be? What sort of Emperor will
he make in the end? Currently, he's allied with Ily Takka. Is she filling in for Fist's dead lover? The prospect is frightening. "