Vigil turned his eyes left and right. He saw nothing but fear on the faces there, a paralysis.
6
Lords of the Stability
1. The Portreeve
Vigil spoke, “My Lords and Commensals! I have no vote at this table, nor may my voice be heard unless I am called upon to advise. There is one privilege and duty given to my office, however, which is shared by no other. Should the Table itself betray the Table, it is the duty of the Lord Hermeticist to initiate the self-destruct sequence.
“There is one and only one act of treason which triggers this duty, only one crime, for this is the execution of final judgment. Nausicide, the deliberate murder of a world-ship filled the millions of deracinated souls, or the breech of the Great Schedule.
“It is known to me that the deceleration laser is misdirected, avoiding the sails, and this was done deliberately, willfully, and maliciously as part of an orchestrated conspiracy to prevent starfall of the Emancipation.
“I call upon the Portreeve to tell the name and orbital elements of the ship into the record so that whatever race of man occupies this dead world in times to come will be reassured that the vengeance which fell upon all was no error.”
The Portreeve said, “My Lord, by your leave, the ship is the Emancipation, the oldest ship in service and the one with the longest route. She comes from Sol, across an abyss of one hundred lightyears.” And he recited the current declination and right ascension of the vessel, as well as her velocity in Doppler shift.
“I call upon the Lighthousekeeper to report whether the deceleration laser is properly presented to that epoch?”
The Lighthousekeeper could not bring himself to answer, but kept his eyes and ghostly antennae pointed at the floor.
“Let the record show that the deceleration laser is not properly presented as our primary duty as Lords of this Chamber compel, ordain, and require. I call upon the Chronometrician to speak to the history of this vessel, and confirm it matches all records, and that there has been no mistake of identity, nor is this a centaur nor plutino nor asteroid or other stray body.”
The Archivist answered for the Chronometrician. “My Lord and Commensals: this is her second return. The first starfall of the Emancipation occurred in the First Century of the Sixty-Seventh Millennium as the Sacerdotes count time, long before our world was self-aware. Upon starfall, the Emancipates, who are the remotest ancestors of the Chimerae, called Esne, killed the Argives in a series of bloody genocides. The attempts to preserve and restore the lost Argives by the shocked and saddened machines of Torment account for the curse which has haunted the world from that day to this. The spectrographic analysis of sail reflections and signal sets confirm the heraldry, call signs, and identity of the vessel.”
“I call upon the Aedile to confirm there is sufficient funding to power the deceleration laser as the Schedule has directed? I call upon the Chrematist to confirm that there is no other loss of supplies, services, or needs which would prevent the discharge?”
The Aedile did not, and the Chrematist could not answer, but the three Companion Officers seated behind the Chrematist were the Purveyor in his ceremonial gloves of spotless white, the Recruiter with a silver horn slung on an ornamented baldric, and the Impressment Officer with his scourge and manacles of office. The Purveyor confirmed that there was no lack of microscopic or nanoscopic elixirs required for medical adaptation of the newcomers, the Recruiter that there were ghosts and spiritware enough, and the Impressment Officer that there were dogs enough gathered by the pressgangs, with the brainspace to hold the training and control downloads, to crew the stations and houses needed. Each one spoke slowly, reluctantly, with as many hesitations and pauses as possible.
But none mentioned any reason to prevent the starfall.
Vigil stood. He was breathing heavily and released oxygen into his lung from his implanted air-cell to calm himself.
With no further word, he drew the blade.
He stood with it upraised, his eyes also turned upward. He was paralyzed at the beauty of the thing, the elegance of its line, the mirror brightness of the blade. There was writing on the blade in an ancient language, the one used only by Sacerdotes, and the letters were gold: Ultima Ratio Regum. In and about the letters twined the figures of a red dragon and a white.
2. The Executioner
Vigil’s eyes were locked on the blade, unable to blink.
He whispered, “May I do this?”
Something like a mudra, but infinitely more delicate, flickered from the reflections of the sword blade into his eye, from the optic nerve into his brain, and the auditory segments of his brain interpreted the jarring force as if a vast and inhuman voice had spoken.
There is sufficient testimony and evidence to permit a verdict. The human segments of the Noösphere are identified. The command channel is open and the angels of execution are standing by. A verbal command is insufficient. To slay the world, smite the table before you forcefully; and we will break the table in two, which otherwise is invulnerable to human force.
The things about him slowed oddly as he used a military internal to raise his nerve-rate, speeding up his thoughts.
“If I condemn the world but am wrong, can the execution be stayed? Is there truly no appeal?”
There is no appeal. Your voice is final.
“Why not? The work of the angels is to protect man from our own folly!”
Once the sentence passed, the execution is instantaneous. The loss of economic and intellectual continuity is unrecoverable. Human civilization on this sphere will not last two centuries once all ghostly infrastructure and electronic mentality is obliterated, nor will peace and civic order last two hours. It is not the place of the angels to destroy you: that you will do on your own, unassisted.
Vigil’s head was beginning to throb with pain from the impact of the superhuman clarity of thought being thrust into his brain. He had never before known the mudra-system to be manipulated in so fine and delicate a way as to provoke specific words and concepts from a man’s nervous system, rather than a gross physical-neural reaction.
But he whispered again, this time on a private channel, not moving his lips.
“And if I do not act?”
We cannot condemn the world nor perform the execution without direct human command, nor would we if we could. The Covenant of Rania protects the lower orders of being from our influence.
Vigil wondered darkly why this covenant had not served to protect his father.
“Am I justified in condemning this corrupt order?”
If you were to abuse this great and terrible authority given you, or if you were incompetent to render the verdict, we would overrule you. But you are fit to decide: the judgment is yours alone.
“How can I? I am but a man, a mere youth!”
You have the authority to compel testimony. You have the authority to condemn or to forgive. It is not individuals you judge but ages.
“You are wise! Are they truly evil? And if they are, should I kill the human world in retaliation? Where is the justice in that?”
It is not permitted that we should advise you.
The pain in his head was now pounding like a drum. Even had he wished it, he could hear no more. Drawing a deep breath, he returned his perception of passing time back to its natural rate.
He found, to his surprise, no uncertainty in him. The duty was clear. “Gentlemen, my Lords, Commensals, and Companions! I find the Table in dereliction of its duty!”