Sword of the Lamb (4 page)

“Nulgrav and the MAM-An drive.”

“Yes. Let’s consider nulgrav first, although MAM-An actually preceded it by three years. What was its primary effect? Alex?”

“It made interplanetary travel truly practical, but that was in conjuction with MAM-An. Of course, there were already colonies on Luna and Mars, but they were rather primitive at that point. The nulgrav-MAM-An combination made it easier to develop them further and go on to new colonies.”

“True, but nulgrav had planetside effects, too.”

Rich observed wryly, “Well, there were the Vinay follies in the late thirty-first century.”

Rovere sent him a sidelong smile. “Yes. Master Vinay was a talented architech, but he neglected to allow for the effects of a momentary power failure on his floating edifices. However, nulgrav had more profound results, such as the elimination of ground travel, and with it the street. It made possible our pedway systems, and every aircar, ’dray, ’bus, and ’taxi is powered by nulgrav.”

Alexand noted, “It also made the House of Hild Robek.”

“Indeed, and MAM-An in a sense made the House of Badir Selasis and certainly Drakonis. Why? And by the way, can either of you translate that acronym—MAM-An?”

Rich replied crisply, “Matter/Anti-Matter Annihilation.” Then he added, before Alexand could get a word in, “And MAM-An made the House of Selasis because it not only made interplanetary travel in the Solar System faster and more practical, but it made the speeds necessary for SynchShift possible.”

Rovere smiled as he shifted his weight on the hard bench. The light wind had turned into the south, carrying the rumbling of the factory and the pervading hum of Concordia with it.

“Again, you’re anticipating me, but I’ll give you the date anyway: 3060.”

Alexand managed to get in first with the answer. “That was the year the Drakonian Theory was published.”

“Since you’ve been boning up on Drakonian physics, that was easy for you. And I’m sure you can tell me why I said MAM-An also made the House of Drakonis.”

“It made SynchShift feasible, and Orabu Drakon was rewarded for that with a Lordship and the power franchises in the Centauri System.” Then, after a pause, “It was still possible for a Fesh to become a Lord in those days.”

Rovere didn’t comment on that. He marked a point for Alexand, taking pleasure in the aural rotundities of the name: “Orabu Drakon. I wonder what our world would be like if he’d lived to finish his time/mass field theory.”

A rhetorical question, but Alexand offered an answer to it.

“We might have the matter transmitter,” he said casually, then, noting Rich’s curiously raised eyebrow, “That’s something I came across in my boning. Some of Drakon’s followers seemed to think such a device is feasible.”

Rovere said, “Dr. Relsing assures me it
isn’t
feasible, if you mean instantaneous transmission of objects from one point to another. I’d be delighted to have the evidence to prove him wrong at the next . . . Guild meeting.” The hesitation came as he realized there wouldn’t be a next Academicians Guild meeting—not for Theron Rovere.

Perhaps Alexand caught the pause, but he only shrugged and said, “I’m just repeating opinions I’ve read. The man who supposedly demonstrated—mathematically, at least—the feasibility of a matter transmitter was Andreas Riis. He was a Polluxian physicist.” Then he eyed his teacher obliquely. “I also came across some opinions suggesting that Riis founded the Society of the Phoenix.”

“You must’ve been doing some of your boning in Priority-Two memfiles.” But of course any Elite of any age had access to Pri-Two ’files. One of the privileges of rank.

Rich asked impatiently, “What in all the worlds is the Society of the Phoenix?”

Alexand laughed. “I’m not really sure. The opinions on that were all a little vague, but I’ve heard Father talk about it. I guess it’s one of the Outsider pirate clans. Lector Theron, do you know anything about it?”

“No, not really, but the opinions—or, rather, rumors—I’ve heard suggest the Phoenix is more than a pirate clan; it has definite revolutionary overtones. In fact, I believe the SSB lists it as a subversive group, which means membership is punishable by execution.”

Rich’s eyes widened. “Revolutionary? You mean political revolution—against the Concord?”

Rovere nodded, feeling ill at ease with a subject bearing on treason and the SSB. The Special Services Branch of Conpol, with its black-cloaked, face-screened, ominously anonymous agents was something he didn’t wish to dwell on now.

He made a show of studying his students’ scores and said lightly, “Now, back to history. I’m not so easily distracted, you know. We were talking about Orabu Drakon and his theory. Synchronal metathesis and chrono-spatial eversion. You see, I’m not entirely ignorant on the subject since I can pronounce that.”

Rich put in, “That’s why they call it SynchShift, I guess. It’s easier to say.”

“Fortunately. All right, when was the first SynchShift—or SS, which is even easier—ship launched?”

Rich answered, “3078 The
Double Star
, under Commander Izak Samovi.”

“Indeed. One of the few genuine heroes left us by history. Now, what about the year 3084?”

Both spoke in unison, but Rich was a split-second ahead of his brother.

“The first permanent colony in the Alpha Centauri A system. Leda on Pollux, in the Twin Planets.”

“Very good.” Rovere marked another point. “Why are they called the
Twin
Planets, by the way? Alex? A bonus point.”

“Because they revolve around each other, or rather a common center of gravity, and when they were first seen they looked like—well, twin stars.”

“And a welcome sight they must’ve been since they fall within the life zone.”

Rich said, “Pollux does, but Castor’s a vacuum colony.”

Rovere smiled as Alexand reminded his brother, “It may not be comfortable for human life, but it does fall within the life zone limits because it has a thin atmosphere and—”

“All right, I know. And even some fairly advanced life forms. Still, I think Pollux was a lot more welcome sight.”

Rovere said, “I’m sure it was; it’s called Terra’s twin. But back to Castor. When was the first colony established there?”

Rich was first with, “3084. The city of Helen.”

“And the three Inner Planets?”

“Perseus in 3085, Dionysus and Pan in . . . 3087.”

“And the remaining planets of Alpha Centauri A?”

Rich gave a short laugh, suggesting that Rovere should realize that he knew better.

“Tityus and Hercules are gaseous giants, and they’ll never be colonized. Not by human beings. And none of their satellites has been colonized yet. But Tityus was
discovered
in 3085 and Hercules in 3086.”

Rovere smiled at that. “Correct, Rich. Apparently I’ve done a good job with the two of you in history, at least. What are the dates for the Confederation extrasolar exploration phase and how many expeditions were there?”

“3078 to 3104,” Rich answered, “and I think there were eighteen expeditions to eight different stars. Let’s see . . . well, the Centauri System, of course; Proxima and Alpha A and B. Then Barnard’s star, Lalande, Sirius A, Epsilon Eridani, 61 Cygni A, Procyon A, and Kapteyn’s star.”

“Excellent, and in perfect order, I believe. All right, Alex, I’ll give you a chance for a bonus point. What did the Confederation’s stellar explorers find in those star systems?”

Alexand stretched his legs and crossed his ankles, his first response to the question a brief laugh.

“Enough information to keep astronomers and astrophyicists busy correlating it for decades, but not much in the way of habitable planets or satellites, and that’s what the Lords of the Confederation were looking for. Three of the stars didn’t have any planets at all. Barnard’s star and Cygni had some gaseous giants, a couple of them protosuns. The Confederation had some luck with Sirius and Procyon. Ivanoi and Cameroodo set up outposts on the four inner planets of Sirius, and I think on one of Procyon’s planets. But if they had ever actually been colonized, it would have to be with habitat systems. There weren’t any new Terras like Pollux.” He paused for a moment, his gaze turned up toward the blue morning sky as if he were seeing the stars behind it. Then he shook his head slowly. “The Concord hasn’t fared any better with its expeditions.”

Rovere nodded, recognizing the regret in that. “We haven’t yet, at least. What stars has the Concord explored?”

Both boys had the answer, but Rich was a little faster. “Kruger 60 A and B, Van Maanen’s star, and Altair.”

Alexand added, “The Concord also sent expeditions back to Sirius and Procyon.”

“That’s right, Alex,” Rovere said. “When was the last Concord stellar expedition?”

Again, the two were almost in unison with the answer, but Alexand let Rich take it.

“That was the Altair expedition. The
Felicity
. In 3241. That was only three years ago.”

“Yes, and I don’t need to ask what happened to the
Felicity
.”

Rich shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you if you did.”

“No. No one knows what happened to her. Well, perhaps in the future, there will be more expeditions and the mystery of
Felicity’s
disappearance will be unraveled. But we’ve gotten a little ahead of ourselves. About a century and a half, in fact. Another date: 3104.”

“Mankeen,” Rich said, and the single word seemed self-explanatory and all-encompassing.

“Yes, but something particular concerning the Mankeen Revolt occurred that year.”

“The Mankeen League was formed; the Three Hundred Rebel Lords signed the League Charter with Lionar Mankeen. Actually, it was 302.”

“Mm. And the Thousand Loyal Houses are actually 1,006 at this time, but simplification often makes for more dramatic syntax. How long did the Mankeen Revolt last?”

Alexand seemed to be losing interest, and again Rich took the question. “Sixteen years: 3104 to 3120.”

“And what happened in 3105? That should be easy, considering what day this is.”

“The founding of the Concord by the remaining Houses of the old Confederation: the Loyal Houses. Of course, the Concord is really the Confederation under another name. Sometimes I wonder why everyone gets so excited about Concord Day.”

Rovere laughed. “Well, Rich, there are some differences in structure. Minor, I’ll admit. It was a unifying ploy, primarily, and it came at a crucial time. Who is credited with paternity of the Concord?”

“Arman Daro Galinin. He was Chairman of the Directorate then.”

And Rich’s great-great-great-grandfather; he didn’t seem to find it necessary or relevant to mention that.

“The Concord defeated Lionar Mankeen . . . when, Alex?”

“What? Oh. In 3120. The Battle of the Urals.”

“Correct. Now, the—”

“And the first Purge followed,” Alexand went on dully. “Ten million Mankeen sympathizers were killed.”

Rovere frowned at that uninvited piece of information; the Purges weren’t the Concord’s proudest moments. But it was the bitterness in Alexand’s tone that brought the frown.

In the last year he’d become aware of something underlying Alexand’s cognizant cynicism; something related to the capacity for empathy that made him so unusual as a student of history. It was also undoubtedly related to his age. Adolescence is a process of disillusionment always, but especially so for the first born of DeKoven Woolf. The heir to the First Lordship couldn’t afford the luxury of comfortable delusions.

Rovere concentrated on the scriber a moment, then, “Yes, Alex, the Mankeen Purge was ghastly in its casualties. So was the entire Mankeen Revolt. Nearly a billion lives were lost in those sixteen years, and all the extraterrestrial colonies were abandoned. Humankind retreated to Terra, and almost into a third dark age. The only colonies that weren’t entirely abandoned were on Pollux, which didn’t require habitat systems, but even Pollux—and Centauri—was abandoned in a sense; there was no communication between the Two Systems for half a century. The Concord was a long time recovering from Mankeen.” He paused, then, “Who can tell me when the first extraterrestrial colony was reestablished?”

“3170,” Rich answered absently; his brother’s distraction hadn’t escaped him. “That was the Ivanoi mine complex in Tycho on Luna.”

“And when was the last of the Solar System colonies reestablished?”

“The last was Pluto. House of Shang. About 3200.”

Rovere marked the points. The wind had died, and the spring sun was hot on his shoulders; the sound of the city seemed more distant.

“Let’s backtrack a little. Another date: 3135.”

Rich again took the question by virtual default.

“The founding of the Peladeen Republic in Centauri.”

“Correct. Which of the Peladeen Lords was in power when the Republic was founded?”

“Let’s see, that would be Quintin Ussher Peladeen.”

“Why was the Republic named after the Peladeen?”

Rich glanced at his brother, but for the moment Alexand was apparently intent on the view of Concordia.

“Well, because the Peladeen were titular heads of the Republic. It was a sort of monarchal republic, really.”

“Was Peladeen the only Lord in Centauri at the time?”

“No. There were a lot of VisLords from Terran Houses and one other resident House and First Lord—Drakonis. I think it was
Konrad
Drakonis. But I guess Quintin Peladeen was the strongest, the one who really ran things. Until the Republic, I mean.”

“Anything to add, Alex?”

He looked around at Rovere, then shrugged. “The Peladeen were little more than figureheads in the Republic. Quintin was probably lucky the Republicans left him and the Lords any power at all. He didn’t have Confleet to back him up, so he was in no position to argue with them.”

“And Elor Peladeen, his great-grandson?”

“His argument was with the Concord. He
did
believe in the Republic, but he grew up with it—fourth generation. It was a long time before the Concord recovered enough from the Mankeen Revolt to take over the Centauri System again.”

Rich asked, “Lector Theron, why did the Concord have to take over Centauri again? I mean, we had access to the resources; we were trading with them before the War.”