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Authors: James C. Glass

Tags: #Science Fiction, #General, #War & Military, #Fiction

Branegate (22 page)

BOOK: Branegate
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“I understand your feelings,” said Carl. “Your family hired me; they can fire me if you wish. In the meantime I’ll do the best I can do under the circumstances.”

“I’ve had enough of your understanding. Please leave,” said Leonid.

“Fair enough. I’ll be back, if you’ll see me. Perhaps you’ll feel better when you talk to Ernesto.” Carl stood up, leaned over close and nearly whispered, “One way or another, you will not be spending the rest of your lives in prison.” He raised an eyebrow, then straightened up and walked to the door. The guard there let him out and instantly Ernesto Salizar was in the doorway.

Tatjana gasped, “Daddy!”

The man smiled, came over and sat down, reached across the table and took her hands in his. The guard rushed over and glared at them. “No touching. Let me see hands open.”

They showed him. Satisfied, he went back to the door.

“Good to see you, Ernesto,” said Leonid. “You’re young again.”

Black hair and trimmed beard, dark brown eyes, yet the skin on the man’s finely chiseled face was like white porcelain. “Round two, just four years ago,” said Ernesto. “I see you’ve done the same. Brings back old memories, when times were better.”

“I’ll say,” said Leonid. “The news we just got is beyond bad. Your lawyer gives us no hope at all.”

“I wish I could say otherwise, but he’s probably right. The Church has the power to shut us down and take everything. I can’t get Mother to believe this.”

“Then it’s hopeless,” said Tatjana.

“The Church has to be brought down politically. We’ve started rumors. We have people everywhere, clear out to the Grand Portal. We’re kept up to date on everything.”

“Rumors about what?” asked Leonid.

“The spy network, here and elsewhere, the agents they’ve sent to the other side. It goes back to the time when the brane was first opened, and you went out on your missions. Church agents were right behind you, every world you visited. Two Bishops disappeared around that time. By the way, do you remember a document The Church issued to sanction your work?”

“I remember a letter,” said Leonid. “All our old records are still on Gan.”

“We need that letter,” said Ernesto. “The Church formally sanctioned your mission; they cannot legally imprison you for it now. But the letter has been conveniently lost here. It might be irrelevant; we don’t have the time.”
     

Certain things must not be said aloud, and we may have said too much already.

Really?

Good, I thought you’d still hear me. Tatjana?

Yes, Father.

“Mother’s her usual angry self, which means she’s well. She’ll try to visit you later.”

“Oh, tell her I miss her,” said Tatjana.

When we sent word about the crisis here we didn’t expect The Church to take political control. Things have gone from bad to worse, and now the tentacles of the Bishops are reaching off planet.

“Grandma misses you, too. She’s very angry about your arrest. If you’re abused it’ll go badly for The Church. We still have to abide by the laws, but maybe we can arrange an exile if things go badly at the trial. We’re working on it.”

Taxes are going up, and business is a shambles. All the money is going into the fleet they’re assembling for an invasion through the Grand Portal. A crusade, they call it, spreading the word of The Source, but it’s all about power. I don’t see anyone stopping them, unless the Grand Portal is destroyed, and they even control that.

Only on this side,
added Leonid.

“I wish now you’d remained here instead of going on those missions.”

“There was no way to predict this happening to us, father.”

Whatever. The family has discussed this; we don’t see a future for us as long as The Church is in power. We have our own small fleet. We can be out of here and light years away in weeks. Only our heavy manufacturing facilities would be left behind, and we can do well without them.

“I still don’t see how we can be responsible for acts our government committed long after we were gone. Maybe we should renounce our association with that government, and renew our pledge to The Church,” said Leonid.

Oh, that’s good. I hope they heard that. Anyway, the family is making plans. One way or another you’re getting out of here. Try to be patient a while longer, and behave yourselves. We don’t want visitation rights to be taken away.

But if we left, where could we go?

Our mineral surveys include several uncharted worlds within a hundred light years. And I’m sure you could find worlds on the other side that would take us in.

One in particular, but it’s quite close to Gan.

“I’m sure it would make a big difference if you did that and really meant it. Do you mean it?”

“Of course. We don’t have any basic quarrel with The Church except for what they’re doing to us here.”

Enough for now. We’ll get back to you as our plans develop. It might take months.

“I’ll tell our Bishop what you just said. He’s sympathetic to your situation.”

“When will Grandma Nat come?” asked Tatjana.

“Soon, hon. Very soon. Be patient.”

Their fingers touched, then a short handshake with Leonid as the guard frowned at them. Ernesto left them then, and they were escorted back to their cell. Their hopes were now higher than before. They were together, their physical needs met, and they had visitors.

Nothing changed, and Grandma Nat never came to see them.

The Church denied sanctioning their missions on the other side, said any new pledge they might make to The Church would be under false pretenses and was thus unacceptable. The trial was postponed once, then again, then set for an undetermined date in the following year.

Four months after he’d first visited them, Ernesto came again and they made small talk about pressuring for a trial date. Their real conversation was short and private, and distinctly unpleasant.

It’s no use. We have to leave. The Church now says there are irregularities in our tax payments, and has court permission to examine our books. It’s a prelude to seizure. They also have no intention of releasing you. We can’t break you out of here by force, but there’s another way. When did you have you last scans?

Oh, no,
thought Tatjana.

On the ship, just before transit,
said Leonid.

Then we’ll have to do another one. It’ll complicate things, but we have inside help. Don’t ask for details. It’ll be soon.

He left them astonished and afraid. They returned to their cell depressed, and waited for something bad to happen. In the morning a guard came to serve them a breakfast of hot cereal and rolls.

By afternoon they were both seriously ill, and writhing in pain on their bed. The guards became excited and called a physician. He arrived and made a quick examination. “Looks like they’ve been poisoned!” he exclaimed, and ordered them sent to hospital.

A team of physicians worked on them behind closed doors, and they were pronounced dead shortly after midnight.

Word went out that Leonid and Tatjana Zylak had poisoned themselves to escape prosecution, but ugly rumors circulated immediately that The Church, in fact, had murdered them.

This was not a good thing for the reputation of The Church.

CHAPTER 23

F
reedom was a heady experience for the citizens of Gan.

Within weeks after the election all underground caverns along the coast had emptied out; there was one continuous caravan of trucks, cars, and hand-drawn carts from the coast to the capital city. Most of the people, those bold enough to come out earlier for voter registration, had established friendships in town and had found a place to live. Many had no place to live, and so refugee camps appeared overnight in parks everywhere in town.

Established citizens grumbled about allowing refugees to use the parks, but were sympathetic about the plight of these people. The new president played on their sympathy and added to his exploding popularity by using his personal monies to provide food and medicine for those displaced. Four-square blocks of multistoried housing developments seemed to rise overnight. In just a year the parks were open again, and people who’d lived in caves for much of a lifetime enjoyed grand views of the city from the windows of their new apartments.

For nearly two years, life on Gan was good.

Industry grew rapidly, and jobs along with it. The government built special training centers for those who lacked necessary skills for the workforce, and it was free to those who were qualified. All graduates were employed. With nearly a hundred percent employment rate, taxes were nominal, a single fifteen percent tax on all goods purchased, and nothing else. The goods were available, the average salaries high. Spending was lavish, but still the banks swelled with what the people saved. The banks were now owned by the government, and there was no net profit in them. Paid interest rates were only a point below rates for a loan, except for special accounts for the purchase of a home, and for these the rates were the same.

The Church was free and open, after many decades of oppression. President Khalil made a show of attending services, and encouraged his colleagues to do the same. He was quoted as saying, ‘Those in government cannot lead properly unless they achieve spiritual growth and encourage it in others through their example. A good government must be ethical and honest for a state to be stable and strong.’

The people applauded his words, and flocked to masses in simple block buildings with humble furnishings, all over the city. Church coffers grew rapidly, and no taxes were paid. Such taxation would be a form of oppression, said Azar Khalil, and The Congress of The People agreed with him. Two years after the elections, nearly seventy percent of Gan’s population was formal members of The Faithful. Of the remaining thirty percent, most lived in distant outlying areas where missions had not yet been established. The rest were dissidents and criminals, and considered to be useless elements of society.

The laws of Gan were fair and just, as approved by The People’s Congress and their president, but there was no tolerance for crime. Those convicted of violent crimes, such as murder or rape, were summarily executed publicly by gunfire. Petty acts were punished by fines and also public service. Thieves, dealers of outlawed drugs, extortionists and the like were taken away and never seen again.

The people prospered. Nobody noticed that people rising in the hierarchy of The Church prospered even more. Nobody noticed that most of the taxes paid to the government came from the people’s tax on goods. All the businesses, small to large, paid little or no tax because of deductions allowed by the government. And the conglomerates owned by Azar Khalil benefited the most.

Citizens didn’t see the overflowing coffers of The Church, or the hoard of missionaries flowing to outlying areas and off planet. Few saw any significance when The Council of Bishops was established to oversee rapidly expanding church operations, and even fewer had concerns when The Council began supporting certain candidates for the first re-election of The People’s Congress.

The Emperor of Galena
did
notice, for he was continually briefed on the developments on Gan through his embassy there. And he did not like what he saw happening.

His concern was heightened when he received a visit from his old friend Nicolus, who was now Bishop of The Church on Galena. They met privately in his chambers since, to this day, Emperor Rasim Siddique had never publicly professed his belief in The Source or a strict adherence to church teachings. The people only saw him as a good man.

They were served tea and cookies, and then the servant left them and closed the double doors behind him. Their table was small, their knees nearly touching, but the high, marble-ceiling room was so large they could hear their voices echoing from the walls. They spoke in near whispers, for the matter was most private, and not for public ears.

“I have a new concern,” said Nicolus. “There has been a surge in immigration from Gan, and it seems most of them are priests.”

Rasim bit into a cookie, and savored its sweetness. “Why would they come here, when their church is now free?”

“When some of our priests inquired, they said they came as missionies to the rural people, since it seemed we’d made no effort to do it. They made it sound like an admonishment.”

“Is it true?”

“Not really. We’ve been to all the outlying districts, especially the farm towns. We attend town meetings, tell them about Our Faith and leave our literature. We only establish churches when the people request it. We don’t work to convert people, or impose our will on them. It’s their choice to make.”

“And I agree with that policy,” said Rasim. “I think religion is a very personal thing. I don’t see what your problem is.”

“It’s their aggressiveness that disturbs me. They call themselves missionaries of The Church of Gan. They’ve established two churches in as many months, and the monies they collect are for the most part going back to Gan. Their tactic is fear. They tell people that if they don’t convert to The Faith a vast armada will come from The Source and His Followers to destroy them. I don’t like any of it, but how can I stop them?”

Rasim munched a cookie, and thought for a bit. “For the moment, I see nothing I can do. We have religious freedom, and these people are representing Gan in a way. Their new president has shown a great deal of enthusiastic support for The Church.”

“Some say he’s a zealot himself,” said Nicolus.

“Perhaps. I’ve heard nothing from him since his election. He keeps a low profile with us for a reason, I think. His business empire, and those of his colleagues, have been extending friendly ties to us for months.”

“You know there were rumors that Galena participated in the coup that eventually brought him to power,” said Nicolus.

“Nonsense,” lied Rasim.
Right now, I can’t even understand why I participated in that operation when the man I indirectly helped now ignores me.
“Political rumors, used against Khalil’s opponent, nothing more. I know he’s expanding the horizon of The Church, and I certainly don’t want Gan exporting zealots to stir up trouble here. Keep me informed. If they raise monies here and send them to Gan, give me proof of it and I can step in. The monies must be reinvested here, and the law is clear, even for The Church.”

BOOK: Branegate
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