Sacred and Damned excerpt

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Chapter Eight
God and Generals
September 20, 1742 AE-March 13, 1743 AE
Across Foundation and ITO Space
Mommar, Quintus
To spread the word of God was the greatest of all callings—the most noble, righteous,
truthful task that could be set to a Patriarch, a speaker of the Almighty and hand of the living
Lord. And to those who had abandoned Him and thus been stripped of His grace through
faithlessness, his word must be nearly as important as His, for he was who they looked upon and
listened to. Patriarch Leto took a pleasure in this truth, as distantly as he could before it became
vanity. That morning, the troopers had served their pious duty well, and a full congregation sat
before him, and from what he had been told prior to stepping to the apse, four more
congregations across the islands were filled. The news from the mainland was favorable, though
not desirable. The islands were most in need of his direct touch, and so he was before them. The
faithful were seated in the nave along the wooden benches. The wide wooden doors in the front
remained open, a welcoming glow of early light beaming into the aisle between the two sides, so
that they may all come in and depart with the grace of God. The two shock troopers positioned
outside faced the street.
“Life provides you with many questions that demand answers. Why are we here? What are
we supposed to do with ourselves? What happens once our earthly bodies die? These questions
come from the only things we truly know about our being here. There may be unique ways of
answering these for each one of you faithful here today, and yet, these are simple. The difficult
questions are those which are, indeed, incontrovertible. Do any here find the wanton murder of
their fellow man something that should be, in any way, defended? Praised? Loved? God is love.
God loves even those who murder his children, because they are still in His light. But, their
punishment, is it not cast down from Him? The only punishment there is, is that which is done by
the sinner. The pain and the suffering of one such sinner is just, because they use the faith as an
opiate, and corrupt the word of the Lord to serve their own taint.”
Leto waited for an answer, which did not come.
“I have spent a year as your Patriarch, and many more years as monsignor to the late
Patriarch Johannes, and in this time with you, my brothers and sisters of this world, I have seen
so much taint. I imagine the corruption which brought your government to rise against your Lord
and the Almighty had also managed to seep into your own hearts and minds. I imagine my being
here cannot have helped quell this anger that stews within. Yet here you all are, in the presence
of God. He knows there must be love left within. I know there must be. I see it at this moment,
though I understand that we live in troubled times, and our lives constantly flow, as if on a river
of time, changing ourselves from moment to moment as we try to come to terms with what God
has given us and is giving us. Perhaps it is this very question that makes your faith so difficult to
hold on to. To believe or not believe…the real question.
“The bombing of the cathedral volunteers yesterday was an act of hateful faithlessness, that

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which is absolutely wrong. The burning of the supply trucks last week. The murder of two
women because they had taken their vow of chastity. These are acts of the fearful. They are the
decisions of those who feel there is only one way with which to traverse, now that you had
already forsaken God and the Lord. Perhaps this is because you do not realize that there is
another way, a way of redemption. A righteous way. This is why I am here. This is why I have
not left, although the threats to my wellbeing are constant. I am not safe here, where I stand,
within a House of God, though I know that whatever so happens, He is with me, and that gives
me strength. What also gives me strength is my faith in myself. I believe that I am able to help
those who feel their voices are being ignored. I chose to come here, because I feel God’s love,
and it should be shared with those who wish to share in it. Though a Patriarch, and a hand to our
Lord, I am only one man. I will keep struggling, for your sake, and all others who seek to be
within His light once again, though together we can be so much stronger. We can help our
brothers and sisters realize the light which is all around us, and we can accomplish miraculous
things, God-like things.”
He left through the passage in the rear once the morning mass had come to a close. It
seemed as though they had truly heard his words, though it had seemed so before, and they had,
mostly, failed to heed him. They heard, but did not listen. They treated his words as if he had not
spent all his thirty-three years putting them together, syllable by syllable, in order to give them
away to them—people like them—so that they could share in his knowledge. Yes, he was young,
but he was their Patriarch for a precise reason, and that reason was why he had been sent to this
world thirty-one months before, to serve under Father Johannes as his monsignor, why the dear
Father had sacrificed himself during the uprising to save the lives of those hiding within the
cathedral walls, why he himself had survived and it had happened so that he may be lifted to
serve his Lord by bringing God back to his lost brothers and sisters—it was decided. It was why
he had chosen to personally carry out Lord Andon’s reclamation of the faithful from these island
communities, coordinating the efforts from the last remaining bastion of rebel fighters, the most
dangerous of all places on this world. Let a lesser Patriarch sit in a comfortable office at the heart
of a military base, or perhaps in orbit, where the rebel bullets would never find them. He would
see God’s work done by his own hands. The people here, those who were not rebel fighters but
simple island folk, people who may never afford to travel beyond the atmosphere of their world,
had been through a failed rebellion and shock trooper enforced sanctions that dictated their lives
to them, morning, afternoon, and night. They needed God more than ever before. They need me.
The passage turned into an enclosed walkway, leading him to the storehouse. The workers
inside put their hands together and bowed to him. He lifted a hand to them, but continued on
quickly. Their faith was touching, and he was very pleased that they were such outstanding
individuals, but at the moment there were more necessary matters than their meek piousness.
They were busy dealing with the cathedral’s food distribution as it were—their own people these
horrible ignorant rebels! were condemning them to a slow, agonizing rot! If more of the land
workers were to agree to concessions, they could be let out of their prisons to tend the soil, and
the people along the fringes of the world would not be in the precarious state they were. Doctors,
and architects, and teachers, and police, those who held out, either behind bars or in the
underground, hiding and waiting for another moment to strike. Shrapnel and bullet casings were
still being found in the streets, where the children walked.
A year and we’ve only begun making the necessary progress and it’s not as if I’ve been able
to bring them back to God. They look at me as if they hate me as if they hate what I tell them as if
I wasn’t a hand of Lord Andon. A year and it will be another six months before the harvests are

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self sufficient. They could all be dead. I give them God and they treat His word like a nuisance
and me like a fool as if I’m not capable of understanding the machinations going through their
narrowly formed skulls. Should armed soldiers have to force them into their seats?
He came out into the rear yard, behind the storeroom and surrounded by a high brick wall. It
would have normally been filled with extra stores, food and wood and other things that the
cathedral could have used very much. All he saw was a dirt yard, empty aside from the shock
troopers and the two men tied into chairs at the center.
It shouldn’t be this way.
Leto approached the prisoners, with the dirt crunching under his feet though that was the
only sound coming out of the yard, aside from labored breathing from behind their gags. They
were stripped to their underwear, shaking and cold, from all appearances, and still wet. He
imagined it must have been much colder overnight. He stopped several strides from them, gazing
into their black and purple eyelids. The red covered their noses and mouths, how disgusting
could they have been?
He smiled.
Lieutenant Reyer bowed. “Father.”
“Have they spoken yet?”
“Not yet.” The Lieutenant turned to his two troopers. “I apologize, Father. Should’ve
brought some of Captain Weavert’s MPs. They’re much more reliable in things like this.
Trooper, how much do you know about basic interrogation techniques?”
One of the standing troopers lifted his chin. “Sir, not a thing, sir.”
The Lieutenant chuffed. “I’m sorry, your Grace, it seems PFC Hugo isn’t much help here.
But I can report my men are closing in on another three rebels outside of town, holed up in the
northern end of the island. They’ve been stockpiling weapons and explosives. It looks like they
were getting ready for something big. Isn’t that right, you sick Godless fuck? You’re planning on
taking out the cathedral!? Not on my watch, you disgusting—!”
“Please, Lieutenant,” said Leto, placing a hand upon the officer’s arm, “The real Godless
filth is out there, far out of our reach. These men before us may have been lost, but they remain
Soran, just like you.”
“Yes, Eminence.”
“This is why we’ve brought them to us. We can remind them who they are. We can save
them.”
“Yes. Of course.”
Leto smiled and patted the Lieutenant’s shoulder as he stepped forward to see the rebels
better. They may have whimpered, knowing they were in the presence of a man of God. He
traced a cross over his face and chest, to show them more clearly, as he leaned down so they
would be able to hear him. He was not sure whether their eardrums were still intact. There was
dried blood down the sides of their heads and necks.
“Do you know why you’re here, like this?” he asked.
They whimpered more.
“You two have committed the most unforgivable sin,”
The closest rebel fought against his bindings, to no avail.
“You doubted God’s love, you doubted and you turned your backs on Him. And for what?
Lies and misunderstandings? You surrendered your souls to atheism and apathy—”
“D-Divinity!” the farther rebel growled. “Th-They have Divinity! They’ve taken God
from—”

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“Blatant lies and misunderstandings!”
“The ITO’s taken and crushed God into this little, this, my God, don’t you see, Father!? God
made us and gave us science, and if science can contain Him in just one particle, what is, what
does that, we’re…”
And Leto nodded his head. “You’re afraid. Yes, I know this. This fear possessed you to
abandon your God, you raised arms against your brothers, your sisters, His Children, and even
after the faithful have returned and showed you just how lost you are, you still scurrying about in
the dark and rape the love God’s granted you by giving you the air you continue to breathe, and
the water you drink, the fruits you eat! You choose to live in sin every day just as you chose to
become an enemy of God’s children.”
“No! No, that’s not—it’s you! You’re the one who’s lost! The non-believers, they know!”
And the rebel cried. “They’ve touched God and He’s not, he’s…they’ve shown us! They’re the
chosen ones!”
“You bombed volunteers and a truck carrying food that was to be given to the hungry. These
choices you’ve made, it staggers the heart to think a Soran could become such a monster out of
fear. They who were only doing God’s work. They were your own people, people whose only
fault in your eyes was that they had come back into God’s good graces, nothing more. It makes
my chest ache. But I think of Him, and the love He showed those people by guiding them back
and embracing them, and the love He must have for you, for you to be here now with me, and
I’m overwhelmed by an incredible warmth!” And Leto gasped. “Isn’t it beautiful!”
And the rebel cried.
“Why are there tears?” asked Leto. “Come back. Please, come back. You must come back.”
And the rebel whimpered, “No, no, no, no—”
“You abandoned your faith because you were afraid and that fear made you doubt, but God
is love, He forgives even the unforgivable, if only you come back, come back to me!”
“No, no, NO!”
“You were lost, but know you’re in His light!”
“They’ve shown us, they’ve shown…my god, my god’s small, it’s such a small god…”
And the whimpering rebel cried.
“No! He’s GREAT! Can’t you see!? You’re lost, but He isn’t! He’s here, right here with
you now! Right this moment, He’s taken hold of you, just feel the warmth! That is love!”
“—so small, he’s so small,”
“Doubt them! Do you hear me? Doubt the heretics, the Godless! They’re no chosen sons and
daughters! They believe in nothing! They care for nothing! Place your trust in love! Trust in His
love!”
“My god is dead, my god is dead, my god is…”
And Leto’s hand trembled. He drew it back to his body, so that he may not touch the
weeping, pathetic heretic by chance. Both of them, whimpering, crying, hanging from the chairs
they’re lost. Absolute doubt. They have lost…You? He stood and paced from them, unable to
close his mouth, or meet the gazes of the terrified troopers, and rubbing the sides of his face, his
hands came together, fingers meeting first, sliding between one another so his palms closed. This
fear has swallowed their souls. Yet they were wrong, so clearly wrong, and if they would not
see, how was he to save them? Show me. Wailing like infants, spittle oozed from their mouths,
and mucus from their noses. Show me. And his whimpering words came back to him—my god is
dead. They were more than lost. This was more than doubt. They had no conflict within. They
were faithless. They had abandoned God and had the vileness to blame it on the lies of the

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Godless! Let me make them see! That such obvious falsehoods could drive the faithful to…to be
hopelessly lost? There could have been others, though he had yet to cross them. Perhaps if—
show them
Ill show them
And he turned to the nearest trooper. “Untie the man I was just speaking with.”
The crying faded, and the troopers and Lieutenant Reyer looked to each other for answers
they would not receive.
And as the Lieutenant began to speak, Leto rebuked with a single hand and repeated his
request.
The trooper remained doubtful, but the Lieutenant reminded Private First Class Hugo who
had made the request of him. The trooper untied the prisoner.
“Help him stand, if you please.”
The trooper did so, and the prisoner shook.
And Leto said, “Now hand him your weapon.”
Not one of them moved.
And Leto repeated his request.
“Patriarch, please—” said the Lieutenant, but he would say no more as Leto’s hand was
raised again.
And again, Leto commanded the trooper hand the prisoner a gun.
The trooper looked to his officer, and the Lieutenant nodded to him, and told him to do as
his Patriarch says.
The prisoner took the pistol from the trooper, and his hand was hardly strong enough to hold
it, tremors quaking down his arm to his fingertips and back into his cracked shoulder. The
nervous confusion in his eyes spread to his mouth, and he stammered and stumbled over his
tongue before Leto had to stop him as well.
And he said, “Shoot me.”
The Lieutenant and the troopers tried yet again, but, again, their Patriarch had to hush them.
And the rebel frowned, and he sniffed a glistening stream back into his nose, and held the gun
out in front of him to see. And there Leto stood, a patron of the House Divine and a man of God,
at mercy before the armed heretic.
“Aim the weapon at me and shoot me.” he said.
At this, the rebel flinched, not to do as he was told, but it was enough for the two troopers to
raise their rifles at him.
“Put your weapons down!” Leto hissed. “I said down! Now!”
The Lieutenant repeated the command, and the troopers did so.
And now, with the heretic safe, Leto told him to aim the gun. The heretic, shaking, unable to
hold himself up for much longer, wet tears and other filth still hanging from his every orifice,
hesitated.
“I said shoot me!”
The pistol was up and aimed at him, shaking in the heretic’s hands, but centered on his
body. The bullet would tear through his flesh and rip apart his innards, leave him on the hot,
muddy ground of this Godforsaken world that had once been a place of grace and beauty and
God. And now, if such unmendable despair had been at root in this horrible violence, and this
one before him, aiming the weapon at him, had been able to turn away from the light washing
over him, with God’s love reaching out to him yet, what did that mean of the power of the lies
that seeded it?

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i am not lost
My God I am here with You!
And he said, “Shoot me, heretic!”
The filth shook.
“Shoot me now! These soldiers will not raise their weapons on you. DO IT!”
Hissing, quaking tremors, dribbling.
“Shoot me and you and your companion will be released and free to go.”
Whimpering. Crying. Godless.
And as the heretic handed the gun back to the trooper, Leto said, “I knew you would not.
You could not. Feel my heart. Feel it! You see? No fear.”
“I-I could, I was, I was gonna—”
“No, you weren’t. You feel my heart? Did you see me blink? I knew you wouldn’t because
you couldn’t pull the trigger. Do you know how I knew? Because I have faith—I believe. I hold
God here, and he embraces me because I trust in him. You could not fire that gun because God’s
Hand reached out and stopped you. I believed He would protect me, and He did. Faith, you see,
is absolute, unwavering. There is no other kind. Having faith in Him means never doubting,
never fearing, never betraying that trust. And you betrayed all.” Leto stood up, and he said,
“Betrayal is as old as David’s son, and Delilah and Samson. It is scripture and history itself. Yet,
these are betrayals of man of his fellow man. What you have done here, you and all your
companions, is even worse, far, far worse—you betrayed the Foundation, and God with us. You
have had a year since your revolt was stopped to reflect and see your error and come back, He
was waiting all this time. Now, you murder again, innocent Soran working to help the people you
betrayed. It was their duty as Soran and human beings to help deliver food to their fellow man,
they had no choice, and they had no choice in being here…this is their home that you have
destroyed. I, I came here on my own accord. This is my choosing. I chose to come and bring God
back to you and your people because He cannot be tossed aside by any amount of sinfulness. He
is unimaginably stronger than any disgrace you may commit toward Him. In fact, even now, you
may come back into His grace, should you do so in your murderous heart. This is why I wake up,
every morning, and I thank God for my opportunity to be here, among your poor, confused
people, so that I may give you God again. Yes, you may have Him, if only you understood.
Before you say anything else, I understand, yes, this is not only a Quintus problem, this is a
Soran problem. We see it in all places, don’t we? The lack of faith that makes my heart go cold
on the warmest days. It’s…disturbing. Forgive me, I…those workers you murdered, they only
wanted to help you find Him again. There are others. I know, I know, there are others. You have
those looks in your faces, but I know. The real question I have for you is, how should I handle
this? There, look, the sun’s coming over the cathedral roof! He’s watching us. Isn’t it beautiful?
Please, no, don’t whimper, that does no one any good. We want to know where the other heretics
are. Tell us where, and this will end for you. You’re under the impression that because I’m a
Patriarch, I wouldn’t do what I thought was necessary to preserve what is left of His Almighty
Grace within your blackened soul, is that what you believe? It’s precisely because I’m a
Patriarch that I would. I am the Lord’s hand and I will sacrifice what I must to bring God to this
universe. Now is the time to make penance, but what could you pay to make up for the lives lost,
this, this festering despair you’ve brought upon your Soran family? You see, your rebellion is
dead. These, what would you call them—attacks? They are sad, pathetic uses of violence and
hate to deny your people the right to share in God’s love. You are Soran! Can you hear me? I’m
this close now. I’m right here. I can smell your disgusting breath. Do you enjoy living in the

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shadows? Running between the trees, like an animal, killing your neighbors? You smell like
urine and sweat and semen and waste. You soiled yourself, didn’t you? This is the existence of a
damned heretic! Faithlessness won’t be tolerated here, as long as I am Patriarch. God did not put
you here so you could simply take Him for granted. Neither did He speak His word so that you
could pretend like you didn’t hear. Do either of you know your scripture? Listen now. Listen
closely. Did you think He wouldn’t see? Did you think I wouldn’t hear His warning? You
whimper and cry, but you don’t mean it. You want to be free of this? You want God? I don’t
believe you’ve earned Him yet. Don’t worry. I will save you, by God, I will save you.”
Leto rose up and away from them. He wiped his eyes and stroked bristles on his lip and
chin, looking at either of them a moment longer, before he turned.
“You lie.” said the heretic. “YOU LIE! My god’s dead! You, it was a trick, that gun wasn’t
even loaded! You’re trying to confuse me! But I’m not confused!”
And Leto asked the trooper to show him, and the trooper held the pistol before the poor, lost,
disgusting filth and removed the clip. The bullets shone in his eyes.
“They’ve forgotten what God’s love feels like.” said Leto. “Make them remember.”
The Lieutenant bowed. “Yes, eminence.”
Leto quashed his tears and made his way back to the rear passage. He itched on his cheek as
he heard the muted howls, echoing in the halls of the House of the Lord.
Babilu, Lobos
The House Divine
“I’m glad you’d see me now, my Lord.” Vath said. He stepped into Lord Andon’s private
chambers and closed the door.
The Lord came toward him with outstretched arms. “Why would I refuse your company, my
dear friend? What now, why are you bowing? Get up, and come, come sit with me.”
Vath followed his Lord toward the grouping of sofas and the low table. He could see over
the back of Lord Andon’s head, which often drew laughs from others who witnessed it—no one
else was present this time. He adjusted his uniform as he came around the nearest sofa and
waited for Lord Andon to sit in his own chair adjacent to him, despite the pleas of oh, please, sit,
sit, don’t mind me. The medals hanging from his breast jingled as he sat himself. He would have
left them off, if the ceremony allowed it, cumbersome and pointless as they were.
“I did not expect you to come so quickly, you’ve only just returned.” said Lord Andon, “I
thought you would go see your wife and your boys.”
“I will. I am.”
“Your youngest is turning three?”
“He is.”
“I spoke with them recently. Marion could hardly control herself, she was so pleased that
you were coming home for the seasons. How long has your fleet been gone? I’ve such a time
trying to keep track of the days…I’m an old man becoming even older.”
nine
“Nine months, my Lord.” Vath said. Nine months and eleven days. There were several more
hours in there, someplace, from the time he had kissed his wife goodbye and handed her their
youngest son, to the moment he rode the shuttle into orbit with Nicholas and the Lieutenant
Commander Cray. He had knelt down and hugged his other boy, who cried he doesn’t

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understand. Maybe he does now. He’s nine months older. Six’s nearly a young man. Almost.
Lord Andon lowered his head slightly. “You’re troubled as well?”
“Only by the news I’ve heard.”
“Though it was a long nine months.”
“And seven prior to that, on my last assignment. Yes. It was. But why should I talk down to
patrolling nonexistent borders, my Lord? My fleet managed to intercept two pirate carriers in
their own smuggling lane. They led us to their outpost hidden inside our territory, and we made
all of the Foundation a safer place.”
“I may be growing older, my friend, but I haven’t forgotten what sarcasm is, and I was not
aware you particularly enjoyed such things.
“No, my Lord. I suppose I don’t.”
“Gabriel, my friend, you’re the Grand Admiral. If you wish to come home to your wife and
children, you always have the choice. I leave it in your hands.”
Narrowly, he grinned. It faded inside. “There are responsibilities that come with my
position. Lord, you know I can’t ignore them.”
“Hush now. It’s in your hands. Yours—oh, forgive me, would you like some tea? Please,
help yourself.”
“I won’t retire.”
Lord Andon drew his teacup away from his mouth. He chuckled—his own personal joke—
and shook his head.
Vath waited.
“You’re still a young man.” said Lord Andon. “Sometimes I forget. You took this
responsibility when no one else would and you’ve never looked back, have you? And it’s been
years now. I admire you, Gabriel. God has a very unique way of turning his eyes your way, more
even than with any of us.” He set his teacup on the table beside his chair—he turned his gaze to
the window behind his desk. Maybe it was the open Book sitting there.
A moment passed. Vath swallowed. It was dry.
“You’re troubled about the intel you forwarded me?” he asked.
“I’ve spent nights thinking about it. Those people, it was only a rumor, though now it’s
much more than that. A rumor, and they see signs of the end, as if they had no other choice but to
turn their backs to their faith. There’s no precedent to judge how the people of the ITO are going
to react as this research of God particles goes on…I shudder to think what it is like being on
Korivo right now. It would be difficult for any Lord to consider, all those systems of atheists and
agnostics, and all those people have to guide them are politicians. Nothing but politicians.”
“You don’t think they’re capable of handing it, my Lord?”
“I imagine it’s difficult for them, but in a much different way. Remember, they’ve spent
their lives without a need for faith. They can’t ask God for help in the matter. They have to come
to their own understanding, and that’s…it must be an impossible task.”
Protests. Riots. Violence in the streets. Political parlaying. A spirituality movement in the
ITO. In a thousand years, the secular galaxy had never tolerated any such thing. Now they were,
for some indeterminable reason and the Vectra of all. Vath had spent days considering it, as he
wrote the plans with Commodore Whing to put down the rebel heretics, then putting it out of
mind as he learned the rumors were true—not true in the apocalyptic way the rebels saw them,
but true nonetheless. It was an all powerful energy source the Vectra sought, a God force, hidden
within subatomic particles, which they could harness. Vath leant forward, rested an elbow on a
knee. Any other truth, and he would never have heard of it. It would not have mattered. It does

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now. It should not. These scientists were countless light years away. There had not been relations
between the Foundation and the ITO for over a century. It could not have mattered. It did.
“It’s possible that it’ll spread into the neutral territories, if the idea takes hold hard enough.”
Vath said. “They could be pulled into fire in more ways than one.”
“Yes, possibly. It seems it’s gotten a firm grasp, at the least. You’re suggesting it’s going to
grow large enough to be called a fire?”
“It’s happened before. My Lord.”
Lord Andon sighed. He set both his hands in his lap.
There were truths only a Foundation Lord and his Patriarchs and Grand Admiral knew about
past things. Things that shook the faith of the most devout. The burden of knowledge. It was an
odd realization, to know. He was a military commander. Who was he, to know those truths?
More considerations he had been able to put out of mind for a long time. No more.
“That was many centuries ago.” Lord Andon said. “Many generations. I wouldn’t worry, we
know about it, and if we’re wise and make the right decisions, we can avoid the same outcome.
Sometimes, there will be a war that no one will go to. Maybe that will be the one.”
Vath breathed out.
“It surprises me, though.” his Lord said. “You’re bothered. You fear for the ITO, my
friend?”
“Does that trouble you, my Lord?”
Lord Andon chuckled. “Of course not. I was only seeing where you stood. I should have
known. You’re a man of faith, there’s no doubting that, but above all, you’ve always been a
scholar, a philosopher, even.”
Vath hummed.
“You could have very well been an excellent teacher.” said Lord Andon. “If you’d not been
a military man.”
“A teacher, Lord? I wouldn’t have the slightest idea where to begin.”
“You command soldiers. You show them how to bring the best out of themselves. What
does a teacher do that you already don’t?”
Vath pressed his teeth down into the end of his tongue. A teacher? Any response would be
poorly conceived. Never thought of myself. His soldiers were young, naïve, mostly weak.
Children. They were grown. They knew the way things were, or they had an idea. His own boys
vaguely knew the kind of man their father was, let alone the world around them. The galaxy. The
universe. How would they react when the learned these things, what he had done who I really
am—
“Is something wrong, Gabriel?” asked Lord Andon.
“They call me The Black Dragon of the Stars. I’m ruthless in my resolve, even if you say I
think and consider, like a scholar. I’ve done…” The words were gone. Vath ran a hand over the
top of his head. It was smooth from the oils in the bare skin. The tips of his dark fingers shone at
an angle.
“I believe in the sun even though it is slow in rising. I believe in love even when feeling it
not. I believe in God even though He is silent. There are some things that we know because they
simply are, my friend. There is a reason why you came to be who you are, just as there’s a
reason you do what you must do. There’s no shame in this.”
There was a moisture in Lord Andon’s eyes. He would never let them fall. His own burden
as being the Foundation Lord prevented him from being able to. Neither could Vath. His
bloodstained soul did not have the right to—a burden of men in the places they were.

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Vath chuffed. “Even with your words, my Lord, I’m uncertain what might happen if the
problems in the ITO spread. There are expatriated Soran there. If they’re blamed in any way, the
backlash could hit us.”
“As I’m certain the Vectra are doing all that’s within their power to keep that from
happening. Why should they sabotage their own government?”
“They commissioned the Divinity Project. It was probably forced into their lap before they
realized what they were dealing with, but it is what it is.”
“Yes. They’ve formalized a new research organization to house the project, as well. Do you
think it may be for a new weapon?”
“We’re going to assume that, aren’t we, my Lord?”
“There won’t be any keeping this from the public. I’m going to speak soon. I’ll do what I
can to calm their nerves, but people are going to talk, just as we are right now. But, what do you
think?” Lord Andon took his teacup. “The intelligence communiqué you sent was very sparse on
actual details, more so than usual.”
“These are special circumstances.”
“I understand. You’re your own commander, Gabriel. Do we know anything else about this
Divine Energy, or, what are they calling it, a God Force, or some such?”
“Not much, my Lord. Reports are that the Vectra’s star force is co-opting the research team.
Other than that, this energy is supposed to tie into the scientific theory of a fifth elemental force,
an obscure idea that hasn’t been taken seriously since before the Exodus.”
“And the actual researchers?”
“Only one. She’s an Arcadian, a scientist of ancient methodologies. She’s how the project’s
implemented so many spiritual principles.”
Lord Andon ran a finger over his chin. “Do you believe this scientist to be a woman of
faith?”
“No, my Lord. Not to God. It’s likely she has no idea how close her work really is to it.”
“I see. A woman of faith toward science…perhaps there’s some hope within a world of
politicians after all.”
Capital City, Korivo
The Scientific Division was the personal mistress of VSF and VMM contractors. Four of the
research teams were already reassigned to help with military projects when the call came—
Divinity needed to split its ranks to pick up the slack in the contracts that didn’t stop tumbling
from Kent’s desk. He swore he was doing all he could. His hands were tied, he said. The Council
had arrangements made with the star forces to offset the budgetary needs of the Scientific
Division. We can’t pay the bills, were his exact words. A suddenly selfless Edward Balthazar
made himself the go-between for the military projects and their team, to give her and Kristoffer a
chance to concentrate on their real work. It caught Mary off guard. The bad thing was he was
right. They needed to present a progress report to the Council after the New Year, a date to be
determined. Which meant Kent was around the lab more often to ask questions and ride her team
into the ground.
Mary ignored Kent. It was hard enough to focus. Kay was still in the hospital, conscious a
few hours a day. Two months already, but the doctors were going to let her try walking soon.
She spent sixteen hours a day in a rejuvenation chamber. Owen went to see her every night, and

Valdez/ 195
Jane was there often. Mary didn’t make much effort to see her. Looking at what they’d done to
the poor sweet girl, no, Mary was going to get them back, by finishing what they didn’t want her
to finish.
Maxell, high orbit
Vectra First Fleet, Flagship Destiny’s Bane
This was a job for the fucking politicians. Trade and defense agreements expiring, every
possible distraction keeping the Legislature away from doing their own jobs, neutral
governments losing trust in the ITO, tiny people saying big words with the balls to raise export
taxes, and somehow it fell on the Vectra to make everything nice and better. It was the Vectra’s
fault, of course, not the crackpots trying to preach bullshit in the streets about spirits—whatever
the heck they wanted to call it. A coalition of united governments, and the Vectra alone were the
only ones capable! And not just the Vectra Council, but their Star Forces, the Sky Marshall
himself and his own fleet, to be absolutely on point. Fifteen major militaries and only I am called
before those blowhards and asked to do this they asked me they were actually giving me a choice
I guess! Granted, the Council had other plans for these bumpkin governments, and naturally it
fell upon the leader of the largest military with the superior manpower, firepower, readiness, the
only one with any extended combat experience, the one the entirety of the ITO relied on, to get
the job done right. Pathetic.
Genero spat on his deck when the transmission from the surface closed. Four neutral
systems in question, and only two fleets available to dispatch. The embarrassment of arriving in
Maxell, a world more pompous than Arcadia, with only half of his fleet. He’d made sure to
approach with flagship at the front and forward. Commanders Burtina and Ells understood what
was at stake—the pride of the Vectra First Fleet. He was the Sky Marshall, and what did he have
to show for it except half a fleet and a job negotiating with greedy ministers, or suits, or I don’t
give a fuck. The politicians were doing the soldiers’ jobs in Korivo and Luna, so the soldiers had
to do the politicians’ halfway across the galaxy. A sickening idea.
He gestured to his XO and grabbed hold of the rail. Master Chief Kerr moved down to the
lower deck to talk directly to the communications officer. Inexperienced and junior as she was,
watching her move around was the one thing keeping him from clawing the skin from his face.
He yawned. It wasn’t easy to sleep either, knowing the crap he had to deal with the second he
woke up. The shapes of the Duce and the Anchorcast in the monitor display locked into a
synched orbit at last.
His guy arrived, saluted, and stood at perfect attention. He was tall. Narrow, but tall. He fit
his uniform well. Genero remained where he was, not too close. At the top of his helm. He was
about the same height from there.
“Lieutenant…Almarosa.” Genero cleared his throat. “Prompt. Very good. I think you
already know why I asked you here.”
“I believe I might, sir.”
“That saves me a couple minutes. So I can say I said so, the Trade Commission will accept a
small negotiating team on the surface—you’re leading it.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll do my best. But, if I may?”
Genergo waved his hand, hurry up.
“Are there more qualified personnel than me to negotiate a trade agreement, Sky Marshall,

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sir?”
Genero laughed. “You mean more interested personnel?”
“Of course not, Sky Marshall. I’m ready to go as soon as—”
“Relax. I guess there are qualified negotiators onboard, but what would be the point? This
commissioner shouldn’t take five minutes to break, considering what he’s done is illegal and has
no weight in the Interalliance Court. This is beneath us, really. No, I don’t need a negotiator.
What’s the point of wasting resources on a ridiculous order like this? I feel disgusted even
having to ask an officer of the Vectra Marines to do this. I do.”
“I agree, Sky Marshall.”
“You do?” Genero checked the man’s face. Square, with a man’s chin. “Good. Then you’ll
take the Executive Officer with you.”
The Lieutenant paused.
“Sir?” Kerr was at the edge of the helm.
“Do you object, Master Chief?” He let a second pass. There was just about a sadness in her.
He hadn’t told her before because of that, that distress that the surprise brought out in her. It did
wonders in a woman’s features. His aging bones tickled—he could have laughed again, it was so
much fun!
“No, sir.” she said.
“Good! Lieutenant, take two more with you—security detail. Get them ready quickly.
Master Chief Kerr will lead the negotiation. You’ll back her up, and make sure the minister
sends you off with the answer we want, but make sure he’s thoroughly displeased. Be back in
time for supper.”
He sent them off. He was sure the Lieutenant was wondering why, oh why the fuck had he
been given this assignment? What did he have to do with negotiating? And Kerr, the look on her
face, if he got a still image of that he wouldn’t have a hard time at all getting some decent
shuteye for once. They must be asking themselves about it right now not saying a word to each
other they have no idea why and the fucking minister’s going to be doing the same. It was
beneath them. They shouldn’t be there. None of them were negotiators or trade commissioners or
in sales. The assignment was horseshit. What was the point of it all, if he couldn’t have a little
fun?
And still, a star force to settle legislation…he tucked his hands behind him and sighed, long
and loud. A military was a weapon, to defend and attack with. Defending from the big bad
corporate money grubbers. No. There wasn’t an attack to carry out, either. An embarrassment,
because those idiots in the Legislature blamed the Vectra. It’d been a long couple years, and
there was plenty of payment coming his direction in the near future if the Council was serious
about their promises they better be this better be worth it. The damn worthless Legislature put
him in this position, needing to make backroom deals just to get what was due him. The Soran
star forces never had to go through what he did, and that was the worst of it. Sure, their
appreciations for the military changed Lord to Lord, but even with the pussycat Andon—he
heard, anyway—there wasn’t a chance in their made-up hell Grand Admiral Vath didn’t get
everything he wanted, and more. Genero’d seen intelligence dossiers on the man. Big, like a
mountain, deep baritone voice, broad, bald, and dark, skin like he was burnt. Supposedly, a
highly moral person. Because he believed in fairy tales. He’d also killed thousands, maybe even
millions, all casualties considered. And how many had been innocent?
The round of the planet at the bottom of the viewing screen glowed. There wasn’t a million
people on the whole world. They had no star force, only a defense corps. Police on the surface,

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obviously…there was no attack to be made.
Scambia, Maxell
The car drove them down the expressway. The Foreign Trade rep sat sideways in his seat up
front with the police officer driver to point out the buildings and landmarks when they went by
outside. He spoke quick and he smiled like he was proud of the galaxy’s quietest water fountain
spouts. Almarosa tried to gauge a reaction from Master Chief Kerr next to him. She was focused
out her window. Her back was so straight, he picked himself up a bit. The two behind him were
quiet also. Corporal Profirio, one of his own men, and Airman First Class Harris, one she picked,
he figured someone else high on the Marshall’s list. They looked relaxed in their seats. They
should’ve been. They got a couple hours on the surface, and they weren’t going to do a thing but
sit and wait for the meeting to end.
The rep went on about one of the buildings right ahead. Somehow, it had to do with how
much the Trade Commissioner stood up for their government’s domestic aid policies that
reinvested taxes immediately into the communities. He had nothing bad to say. Which means
he’s probably sugar coating things so we’ll go easier on the minister but the heck do I know?
There wasn’t a point in complaining. The XO was the lead, technically. The Sky Marshall said
she was in charge of the negotiations. He was there to help. Outranking her didn’t mean much, if
the order came from the Sky Marshall’s own mouth. How did she ever get to be the XO though?
Not an officer. He trusts her sure but commanding the flagship? And this. The rep said they were
going to be there in five minutes.
The city was laid out thin over a bunch of hills. The houses were in the highest places, and
following the expressway down, it looked like the rest of the buildings were at the bottoms. None
were higher than fifty feet, or the ones he saw through the window weren’t, and plain
architecture, nothing fancy, but very clean—like Bajeena Prefecture, on Luna. Back home.
The driver crossed over two lanes, between other cars.
“There aren’t skyways here?” Almarosa asked.
“—to make it the very best that, oh, uh, Lieutenant? No, we don’t have skyways on Maxell.”
“It’s strange, not seeing any.”
A rustle behind.
“You’re right, Lieutenant. Every car’s wheel driven.” Profirio said. “Isn’t it harder to get
around on the surface?”
The rep’s head bobbed with the car. “We don’t mind at all. We enjoy the ground, and there’s
nothing we need to do or get to that’s so urgent we can’t drive.”
“Still don’t know how you guys do it. Kinda backwards, don’t you think so, s-sir…”
Almarosa stared the corporal down. The soldier adjusted his cover and turned to his
window.
“We don’t find it backwards at all, to be quite frank.” the rep said. “We take pride in our
streets.”
“You aren’t afraid of flying?” said Airman First Class Harris.
“Not at all. This city’s built on so many hills, the design and construction of the streets are
important aspects of our history, not to mention how we’ve utilized our people’s tax money over
the years. In fact—”
Almarosa sat back and bobbed along with the rep’s story. Really? Didn’t realize that.

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Interesting.
The car exited the expressway, into the city itself. The buildings were only a little bigger up
close. There weren’t any advertisement billboards, either.
He waited for the rep hit a pause in his story. “Looks like you get along fine without a
military presence. You don’t have problems with the Soran?”
“—to be used in such, oh, uh, no, w-why should we?”
“Their border’s only two hyperlanes away.”
“Lieutenant, we have no trouble with the Soran. We trade freely with the neutral territories,
and I’m sure some of those imports are Soran in origin. We’ve never had problems as a result of
this. Does it sound like we need a star force to protect us from them?”
Another rustle from behind.
“You actively trade with Soran affiliated worlds?” the Airman First Class said.
“Airman—” Almarosa turned. His leg brushed against the Master Chief’s she just looked
over? It happened too quick. Her head was turned away the second he saw the movement.
“It’s fine, Lieutenant.” the rep said. “It must be curious for Vectra, but the truth is we don’t
have the same issues with the Foundation as you do. No, we don’t trade with them, obviously,
we’re citizens of the ITO, but I have a hard time believing that none of the products we import
from the neutral worlds happen to be Soran. It’s never been a problem before.”
“It’s never been legal to import Soran products, either.” said the Airman First Class.
Almarosa turned again, his head only this time. Harris nodded and smirked as he said yes sir
and rested his head back. Profirio caught his glance and looked away right away. He settled into
his seat when the rep went back to his story.
The Master Chief said nothing.
The Ministry of Foreign Trade was plain and tan like so many of the buildings there. There
were security guards standing at the top of the front steps, behind the pillars there, but around the
rim of the building itself, no one. This is a government building right? He followed the rep
around the car
They walked across the parking lot and went through the entrance. The police watched
them. The lobby was the big, but was in no way like the ones on Luna or Korivo. Maybe there
were ones like this on another ITO world, but he didn’t remember being in any others. More
columns and a long counter and sofas and chairs to sit in next to a wide staircase. No busts. No
paintings. The walls were blank.
The rep took them to the counter. The man behind asked for Master Chief Joanna Kerr.
Almarosa stepped to the side, chewing the insides of his lips. She came forward and said they
were there to speak to the Minister of Affairs, signed something, and they followed the rep again,
this time Kerr up front. He took them to the seating area and asked them to please wait, they
would be called shortly, and went off, up the stairs.
“I guess we can find something to do…” Profirio mumbled.
It took a couple minutes. The rep came back and asked for only Almarosa and Kerr. He
asked if the other two could kindly wait there. Almarosa threw them a nod and went up the stairs
to another, smaller hall. They sat in the far corner, and waited some more.
It took a little longer than a couple minutes.
“You sure are quiet, Master Chief.” he said. “Something on your mind?” No kind of
response. “I respect that the Sky Marshall put you in charge by technicality. But I’m still the
ranking officer here. The only officer.”
Slowly, she blinked, and her eyes were on him at last. “I understand sir. And no, I don’t

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have anything on my mind. Sir.”
“It sure as heck doesn’t look like it.”
Almarosa sighed and turned away.
“Do you have something to say, Lieutenant?”
He went back to her quickly. “You want to try that again, without the tone?”
“No sir.” she said and pulled away, back into her perfect posture. “Sorry sir.”
“You don’t have an opinion? Wonder why they raised the taxes, anyway. Not like the
resources are harder to find. And fuel costs are the same. I guess neither of us know…”
“I guess not, Lieutenant.”
“See, I’m only concerned because you’re supposed to be the lead negotiator in there, and
I’m supposed to help you, but I don’t know anything about what’s going on, I don’t know how to
do this, and we sure as heck aren’t on the same page.”
She was quiet, just stared into the door in front of them.
everyone has a chip on their shoulder today or what
“Master Chief,” he said, “I don’t want to screw this up. If there’s anything you know that
might help me help you…”
“Like what, sir?”
Almarosa squeezed farther into the corner of the sofa. Like what what don’t I know how am I
supposed to…he sat forward and cupped his hands together. “They raised taxes on their exports
to us. The Sky Marshall deploys half his fleet to negotiate. Specifically you and I are sent here
to…talk the taxes back down?”
“That’s what I assume.”
“You assume?”
“If the Legislature wanted to deal with this, they would have. I think, at least. Maybe this is
a statement, even if we fail. Sir.”
The door opened a second later, but Almarosa looked down, not up, before he followed the
rep deeper into the building, then he let Kerr move ahead. You don’t know any more than I do.
The Marshall sent them there with nothing and he expected them to—whether they failed or not,
apparently.
At the end of the corridor there were two more guards, cramped together. They couldn’t
have been there the whole time like that, like they didn’t belong. They asked for Almarosa and
Kerr to remove their covers, and step forward, one at a time. He did, and she did, and she spread
her arms while they frisked her and did the same to him. Strange that they’d do it there, that far
into the building. They weren’t armed, so the guards opened the door and they went in.
“I hope your ride was pleasant.” the commissioner said.
Hubert Bolton. It was all Kerr knew about him and this assignment. Balding, in his fifties,
toward the beginning or middle. A large mouth that stretched as he smiled and came over to
shake her hand and the Lieutenant’s. All she knew, except the part the Sky Marshall told her
about. What she was supposed to do. The commissioner showed them to the chairs in front of his
desk and sat on the other side. Book shelves and books, a wood desk more elaborate than any
structure outside, closer to a study than an office.
“Would either of you like something to drink?”
“No.” the Lieutenant said.
“Good, very, very good.” He smiled wider. “Now, how are you finding our little slice of

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paradise here?”
Paradise?
The Lieutenant gazed at her. He shrugged. “It’s…quiet.”
“Yes! Yes, it is. We enjoy the quiet. We like to keep our home simple. We don’t like
controversy, or upsetting things of that nature. We consider ourselves a nice people.”
“I’m sure your people are.”
The commissioner twiddled his thumbs on the desktop. Smiling. “I would’ve expected
representatives of the Legislature to come. Not that there’s anything wrong with speaking to you.
You’re fine people. I was, this is usually done between officials. In an official capacity. What
does the VSF have to do here?”
“You don’t want to speak to us?” Kerr asked. She crossed her legs, brushed her hair back,
stretching her neck.
“No. N-No, that’s not what I said. It’s perfectly fine. We can begin. But, it’s strange they
send a fleet of battleships to negotiate a new trade agreement. I have to admit, it’s a confusing
thing to do.”
A fleet? Half a fleet must look huge to you. Kerr settled her weight into the chair’s back, her
hands on either armrest. “I think we all understand the situation, Commissioner Bolton. There
are things being done around here that aren’t exactly on the up-and-up.”
“Not on the…I-I’m not sure, I don’t think I quite understand. My office—”
“Oh, I understand. I also understand that tariff collusion is illegal, and not just in the ITO.”
“My office has always adhered to its contracts. We’ve even made compromises for the ITO
in our dealings with them, a-and with the Vectra! What are you insinuating, exactly?”
“It was pretty clear. Your office colluded with the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and raised the
tariffs on your goods exported to other ITO systems in order to influence the prices of your own
imported goods, causing your domestic grosses to skyrocket. Why that look on your face? You
aren’t seriously going to tell me you aren’t chiefly responsible for this?”
Commissioner Bolton’s eyes burned red and the Lieutenant nearly fell out of his seat,
throwing his head between them, saying what, where was that, they were what—
“I’ve never colluded to, to commit a crime? Taxes of our imports haven’t risen in seven
years! Manipulating the domestic gross, do you realize how illegal that is? We take those crimes
very seriously. Very!”
“That’s why we’re here.”
“You can’t prove anything. You can’t! This is fabricated, you’re making this up because
your own people wouldn’t renegotiate the terms with us!”
The Lieutenant was still going on with whats, whos, hows—if she were the one “backing
up” she would have done the same.
“There weren’t any terms to renegotiate.” she said.
“The trade agreements were expired! You don’t know. You couldn’t understand. The ITO.
The ITO’s made me keep the tax below any legal limit. It’s gone on, for decades, before I took
office! My government uses that tax money for the communities, but there hasn’t been any! This
is unbelievable. What are you, a non-commissioned officer? Why are you here right now! This is
a logistical matter. And, you, you don’t even outrank him, why are you the one speaking!”
The Lieutenant tried, but she leaned forward. “That may be, but I have you by the balls,
don’t I?”
The commissioner ground his teeth. “Who are you people!”
“Look,” said the Lieutenant, “Maybe we started off on the wrong foot. These are supposed

Valdez/ 201
to be negot—”
“You can’t prove it. None of it. I have nothing more to say, and if you’re going to travel ten
thousand light years just to insult my integrity, please leave. My guards can escort you out.”
The guards. Cramped together in the corridor just outside the door. They had no business
there. They might have been the same ones from the front, snuck around to the second floor
while she and the Lieutenant waited. The frisk outside the Commissioner’s office…if she wanted
him dead, being that close, she could have done it. No standing star force. No security. Simple,
quiet city. Nice people. They were not prepared for this. Two guards and that’s it. There was
nothing they could do.
Kerr stood up. “The Sky Marshall won’t be pleased.”
“Excuse me?” the commissioner said quickly.
“He gave me a deadline.” she said, the first thing that came to mind. “If we can’t come to an
agreement in eight hours, our forces will blockade this system, in accordance with the Embargo
Enforcement Act that your government is a part of.”
“Blockade!?” the Lieutenant said.
“B-Blockade!” Commissioner Bolton jumped up. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Unless we receive reasonable assistance on your part, the Sky Marshall will issue orders for
Vectra forces to blockade your world. You’ll be cut off, and your illegal tariff won’t be any good
to you.”
“But THIS is illegal! Your government forced us to reduce our export taxes to nothing. We
had no choice, and when the contract expired, I offered to renegotiate! I was the first of us to the
table! The ITO ignored me! It would’ve been illegal for me to keep the tariff where it was if the
contract wasn’t renewed, and no one…I raised it because it’s fair. It’s no higher for the ITO than
for anyone else, not even the Foundation! There was no more agreement, and I did what was
within the rights of my office!”
“You’re saying you don’t have any contracts with the Foundation?”
“I, I, I’m not, I never, that’s not what I said at all!”
“You have a trade agreement in place with the Foundation, yes?”
“No! I, I mean, we import what we can from the neutral worlds, and they deal with the
Soran. Yes, some of our goods must come from the Foundation, but no, we don’t trade with
them. They negotiated with the neutral governments! And they came to me and made a fair deal.
It was legal! Your people, the ITO ignored my requests and my government’s! What’s
happening on Korivo, I don’t know what it is, but they said our trade agreements weren’t
important enough to deal with right now. They said this! What was I supposed to—”
“You openly traded with the Foundation, while you raised export taxes for the ITO.”
“You, you’re mixing my words, damn it!”
“If this is going nowhere, we’re leaving. The blood will be on your hands, Commissioner.”
“Blood? You said it was a blockade! You don’t understand, we aren’t soldiers! We don’t
fight wars, we don’t have any enemies. We share our world. We’re a peace loving, can’t you—”
“What the Maxell politicians lack in military force they make up for in political corruption.”
“I’ve done nothing illegal!”
“Then make me a deal.”
Three minutes later, they left with tentative terms signed. They were identical to the
previous ones. In addition, Maxell would voice their support of the Vectra in their efforts to
maintain a standing star force for all the peoples of the ITO.
On the ride back to the spaceport, she caught the Lieutenant watching her in the rearview

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mirror. It was quiet.
The shuttle ride into orbit was quieter, at first. The enlisted men sat away in the other corner
and dozed off. She watched out the view port while the clouds got thinner and went away.
She saw the Lieutenant shift in the corner of her eye. He moved to his left, so he was closer,
more opposite her.
“That was impressive.” he said.
Kerr sniffed. “What was, sir?”
“You knew about the collusion. I didn’t know we had any intel on them.”
She waited. He was stuck in one expression, staring straight at her. He knew. It was obvious.
Of course he knew.
“There was no intel.” she said.
He breathed in slow. “How much was made up? All of it?”
“He didn’t lie. I don’t think.”
“Why did he give in, then? He could’ve fought it.”
“Would he have won, Lieutenant?”
He did not give an answer fast enough, and sat back. He knew. He said nothing about why
she made these people support the Vectra against the Atheists, either. They were almost into low
orbit. It was almost dark outside.
The maneuver Wilcox took to do it was unorthodox, too high risk, high reward, for a guy
who liked the high risk. It exposed too much to too many people. If it didn’t work, he’d be
fucked, and them, the people who this was supposedly going to help, they’d have their own can
of worms to deal with. But it did. No one knew a thing, except he and her and the guys she paid
off for it—more than the network execs got—and now Gene Glass, who looked like he was
going to faint when they told him, against her wishes, but fuck what she said, he was Clay
Duncan, and this was his organization. Because of it, they were the hottest ticket on Korivo not
named the VSD. Five of the six major news outlets carried a story an hour about the SSC or the
Vectra or the Atheists and the young researcher rehabbing in the hospital four months after being
brutally attacked, some said attacked and raped, but there was no confirmation. It was likely the
family of the young woman keeping that from the media to protect her. The pictures of her in her
hospital bed from November were blown up and hung across the city. People could not get
enough of how strong she was for standing up for her work, how innocent she was. How strong
everyone was who stood up for them.
Duncan met with the Vectra Council for the first time. It was a new year. They were very
grateful for all his support. Baralan was the guy who spoke directly to him about their
relationship. They were in a unique position to do something together, something significant, but
the Atheists and the anti-Divinity were not gone yet. The Legislature was already passing around
a bill to restrict political ads from containing statements that bashed specific people or groups
within the ITO. It was going to pass, it seemed. Baralan and his people wanted to reduce the
spiritual feelings in the populace. Which was more than doable. Duncan shook his hand and told
him it was already being handled.
* * *

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“—Ferdinand Sykes? May I call you Ferdinand, or would you prefer Mr. Sykes? Ferdie?
Okay then. You’re an assistant researcher on the Divinity Project Team, a molecular biologist, to
be exact.”
“Yes. Yeah, I am.”
Miranda Wilcox sat opposite him, the camera over her left shoulder. She brushed her hair
back. Away from her neck. The kid’s eyes kept going back to the flesh of her throat.
“How long have you been part of the Project Team?” she asked.
“Since the beginning, ma’am.”
“You were a student of Professor Balthazar?”
“Yeah. I studied under the professor at the Academy. He selected me, to bring me along
when the team was being formed.”
“And what kind of things have you seen?”
“Seen, ma’am?”
“What was the first thing you thought about when you saw the people marching down the
street with signs that said, ‘there is no god particle’?” she asked.
Shanice Acevedo smiled perfectly—her teeth showed. “I thought to myself, geez, this isn’t
happening, these people actually think we’re looking for god or whatever. It’s amazing, really,
how out of control this has gotten.”
“It’s amazing, to you?”
“Amazing isn’t the right word. Unbelievable. All the violence. All the hate. That kind of
overzealousness isn’t supposed to be here. But it’s all over. Now my friend’s trying to walk
again.”
“That’s when the groups on both sides of the street started throwing rocks at each other.” the
civilian said. He was one of the people arrested in the last public brawl. “I heard windows
breaking, the fronts of the stores, huh? Someone from the other side of the street, he jumps over
the divider and runs right at me, punches me right here, see?”
“Do you remember the man who assaulted you?”
“Yes.”
“Was he an Atheist supporter?”
“Yes he was.”
“Tell me what happened next.”
“After that, the police come over, but by then, there were a dozen, two dozen others already
running at us. They wanted blood. We were throwing rocks too, but we didn’t start it. We were
only there to voice our support.”
“You don’t think both sides might have been at fault?”
The civilian paused.
“Our work will scientifically prove the existence of an all-pervasive mass free energy that
dictates the functions of every other particle. We’ve gotten far enough to see trace signatures of
its presence in living organisms, organisms with measurable life signatures and emotional states,
and we’ve begun preliminary work on non-sentient lifeforms, but obviously the particle which

Valdez/ 204
make up this force is incredibly difficult to detect because its only clearly detectable within
subjects in relatively close proximity to one another, similar to gravity in that regard, and it
seems to require very specific brain activity resulting from emotional stimuli to make itself
noticeable.” Dr. Edward Balthazar rubbed his chin. “There are those who want to call it god, or
say we’re looking for god, which is such an ignorant accusation, it’s laughable. These sort of
people can’t seem to realize that if we were able to pinpoint the precise particle, of which we’re
already seeing physical measurements of, we could actually make sense of many, if not all, so-
called religious or spiritual phenomena that occur in the scriptures. With this force reigned in, we
could do such amazing things, we’d be theoretically capable to manipulating the fabric of space-
time. This discovery has the potential to debunk the notion of god in principle by proving
humanity’s notion of spiritual phenomena is merely an uneducated, misinterpretation of
scientific reality. Yet they insist on combating us and attacking my researchers.”
Wilcox tilted her head. “Do you believe you’re close to achieving your goals?”
“I do. We’re incredibly close. I’m doing everything within my power to push my team even
closer.”
“Would you say both the opponents of your project and the spiritualists are wrong in their
beliefs?”
“Fundamentally, yes. Absolutely. There are certain details about this project that made me
question my own loyalties, though these are hardly surface level details. Once you dig into the
subject at any length, you’ll see very quickly how much embedded this idea is in science.
Unfortunately, even within the scientific community, there are too many fools to count. The ones
who refuse to take a look are exactly that.”
“You don’t seem concerned your words might offend your enemies.”
Dr. Balthazar gulped. “There wouldn’t…th-they will?”
“Your organization funded the publicity campaign in the Vectra’s aid. The Scientific
Division most of all. You fueled the people just as much as anyone.”
Clay Duncan lifted his chin. “Our goal is the same as it’s always been. We’re here to support
the idea of open inquiry. Personally, I’m not a spiritual person. I don’t believe in things science
can’t prove to me. To me, an original idea, or at least an unproven one, shouldn’t be immediately
tossed aside. Their project is on the verge of proving that we’ve been right this entire time. How
could I allow closed minded people, people who aren’t scientists, to threaten these researchers’
reputations and credibility when they have the courage to take that mantle up for all of us? I’m
not Vectra. Nearly my entire staff is made up of non-Vectra personnel. But we’re all citizens of
the ITO. Our political parties and worlds and cultures are allied by a common cause, so I see the
Vectra’s cause as my own. I see it as all of ours.”
“What about the people?” she asked.
“I think we’re going about this wrong.” The civilian sighed. “Ideas are what our species
feeds on, aren’t they? Humanity needs ideas.”
* * *

Valdez/ 205
Miranda Wilcox read over question list at the back table. Nine separate interviews. Nine
perfectly talkative subjects. She placed a cigarette in her mouth and lit it.
“Did you get what you wanted?” Ross Kelley asked. He pulled the large earphones off, and
left it around his neck. The camera crew packed up behind him.
She nibbled on her lip. “It should do. It’ll cut together fine.”
“You’re going to start tonight?”
“Yes. I want a full print done by Saturday.”
Kelley gestured at the crew, and turned back. “Cutting it close there. That’s not a lot of
time.”
“I didn’t say it was supposed to be. Our release schedule for our other spots will make them
expect the new one tomorrow. Sunday, I’ll catch them off guard, and it’ll hurt that much more.”
“We’re hurting them, now?”
“This is truth. Every second of it. The truth always hurts.”
Nicasio, Lobos
“Love, what’s happened to you? You’ve turned lazy on me.”
Maybe I have.
The breeze hit the second floor balcony lightly enough. A sugary scent, of red and yellow
apples being pulled from their branches by workers standing atop ladders, who placed them in
baskets, carried them to wide wooden carts. They were spread across the orchard beyond the
yard, hundreds of trees with leaves that flickered in the wind. Vath followed the swaying points
of the leaves to the garden, right below the balcony, the rear of the chateau, focused on the
hedges and flower beds and the stone bird bath where the boys were running around and chasing
flittering bugs. The orchard, with its endless rows of trees, the field past the garden and yard, and
the hills to the west, and the oak standing on the first slope, it all lasted for miles, past the hills at
the horizon, but for his boys, still young and unsure of things happening outside their garden, it
must have seemed so much bigger, as if, maybe, the trees and hills never ended, they simply
went on forever, and the morning air always smelled of dew and ripe apples. Some thought, so
different from his mind of the last months. He watched his boys run around in the garden shade a
while more, and sat again. It was worth doing, at the moment.
“Love?” she called, closer now. In their bedroom, and the balcony doorway.
“I’m comfortable as I am.” he said. “I’m not lazy.”
She came out onto the balcony, an apron over her day dress and her hands on her hips.
“Spending time with your wife has become a chore, has it?”
He squinted in the sunlight. There was no mistaking her smile. She came to the side of his
chair.
“You’re here now.” he said. “I can’t ask for much more.”
“What about this?” She leaned in and kissed him. Her lips tasted of oranges.
“I don’t want to ask for it.”
“You will never have to.”
Her glow was obvious. It was behind her smile and eyes, at the center of her face. When she
breathed in and her chest grew, her mouth curled up at the sides, and she looked straight into
him. The way a flower bud looked as it bloomed.
“The boys seem to be enjoying themselves.” she said.

Valdez/ 206
“All boys should.”
She rubbed his shoulder and moved closer. Her thigh pressed against his arm. “Aren’t you
enjoying yourself?”
“I’m no boy, Marion.”
She leant over and kissed him again. She whispered into his ear, no you aren’t.
They watched the boys in the garden for a long, quiet while. The sound of birds carried in
the breeze. He followed their song to the high hedges. Small, innocuous things.
“What’s bothering you, my love?” Marion asked.
He went back to the boys. “What makes you think something is?”
She pressed close as she could, sitting up on the chair’s armrest. His arm wrapped around
her body, his hand on the side of her leg. She ran her fingers over the round baldness of his head.
“I can see it in your eyes.” she said. “When you look at our sons, as if they’re the only
happiness you have.”
“You’re starting to believe my reputation more than me.”
“If I did, it wouldn’t be because I had a choice. I’ve hardly seen you for two years. And
before that, when you were fighting,”
“This is our home. This is the only place I don’t have to be the Grand Admiral. If I’m going
to sulk, it’s going to be here, on this balcony, so no one can see it. Not even you.”
“I love you, Gabriel. What’s the matter?”
He breathed outward. Held her close. Her warmth, for a moment, made him forget what he
was going to say. A lie. She would know.
“What would you do if I were gone?” he asked.
“Gone? Off to war again?”
“Yes…and no.”
The curls at the ends of her mouth flattened. “What would you do if we were?”
He pressed his head against her stomach. He kissed her there.
“I would never let that happen.” he said. “I would denounce God before I’d allow that.” He
swallowed. I’d war against Him.
“It’s those times we need His guidance the most.” She kissed the top of his head and rested
her chin on his scalp. “If we trust in our faith, we can overcome any pain. If we trust in
ourselves.”
“Our enemies aren’t so pious, Marion.”
“Who are our enemies, my love?”
He held her close. The warmth was enough. Their sons ran through the garden gate and into
the lawn outside. He was going to leave his balcony soon, when the sun was higher. He was
going to hold his sons, and even later he was going to be with his wife and know that there were
things to smile about. Four hundred sixty one of his people were dead, killed by their own.
Murdered in mass while praying. Taking their children to the park. While digging the soil. Some
killed by his order, to bring an end to it. Because they heard stories of an apocalypse on the
horizon. Because of the actions of people who would never know them, as far across the gulf of
existence from them as was possible. But she smiled, his boys ran free through the moist
morning grass, and he knew. No war was coming, even if so many things were happening that
would make those flames so easy to ignite.
Maybe he knew.
His enemies knew.

Valdez/ 207
* * *
Babilu, Lobos
The House Divine
Lord Andon knelt below the apse, hands tucked in, eyes closed and face turned to the marble
floor. He prayed, imagining times past when he could deliver a sermon for hours, moving around
the stage, the Book in hand but reciting the scripture from his heart. The people had seemed to
enjoy him. His throat dried too quickly now. His knees were weak. His eyes were weakening. All
the strength he had was for lowering to the floor and cupping his hands together, in prayer. He
spoke every word perfectly.
His people, the faithful, lived their days as they might were they not worried for times yet to
come. They woke in the morning, kissing their husbands and wives, going to the doorways of
their children’s rooms, telling them it was time, and they groaned, perhaps, but woke as well,
sleepily making their way to the bathroom to relieve themselves and the shower to cleanse their
little bodies, and their mothers and fathers did the same, and drying in the morning light peeking
through the windows of their homes, and dressing themselves and praying together to thank God
for the beautiful day before they took their children to school, turning away and going off to
work, to make their own ways, and if it was the weekend, going to mass to hear a reading and to
ask questions of their monsignor and answer others for those who were too afraid to ask a full
congregation but with just enough courage ask a fellow Soran, nodding yes, I understand, your
pain or fear or concern is troublesome but you can overcome it, have faith and listen, I believe I
have some advice…until they realized the question was not about a broken vow of monogamy or
a desire to hit a coworker who constantly insulted them or a spouse who was unfaithful or a
coworker who double parked in the last two spots or nagging children or trouble paying the bills
or stealing money from work or mass or a friend who had more or even a coworker who drank
the last of the coffee and never made more or a mortgage that was failing and the bills made it
impossible to save for the house and work was endless and every single coworker talked down to
them and stole parking spots and never made coffee and stealing from the mass collection
seemed a good idea and a spouse who argued about the house and bills and children so much he
or she rarely smiled and may very well be unfaithful with a friend so they started looking at the
neighbor who was younger and smiled more often…these were the troubles the Soran people
had, his acolytes told him, these were what they were able to advise and help with, which his
people could overcome, yet some of the questions were not of these troubles, but of troubles
from across the stars, troubles of those without faith, of Divine science, of God particles and fifth
fundamental forces, abominations to the natural world, which violated all which the Soran stood
for to harness God’s hand is it even possible? and the Soran people were going home with these
questions, unable to help their fellow faithful, meeting their husband or wife in the doorway with
their children in the next room, playing unknowingly, while their God, who protected them, was
raped by those without the love they bore within their little beating hearts.
they must be helped
we are their helping hand or I am not their Lord
Yet, was there a path to take? Where would he look? With those who would see his people’s
faith abolished…the universe moved with or without the Soran. Where was he to gain the
strength he needed to choose, if it was selfish to ask it of God? He doubted he could rise to his
feet if he had to at the moment. Perhaps, if he placed all his faith in his enemies, and prayed for

Valdez/ 208
them, they would see the righteous path. And to hope was divine.
The Council was out for the week. Baralan stood in their chambers with the rest of the
delegates except for Director Sullen. Either the Director already knew this and he was knowingly
staying away, or he did not, and his project team truly had no idea what it was they were really
researching.
The delegates were scattered around. Roche was the only one sitting, holding her digipad in
her lap. Her face drooped away from the light of the image, projected between the circle of
chairs—the Sky Marshall’s impatient, frowning face.
“Yes, fine, you’re right.” Genero said. “Your Scientific Division’s done a remarkable job,
considering the whip Commander Scoy’s put to them with the military contracts. Now, if you’ll
excuse me, I want to sleep. Next time, wait to call me when I’m in the same system. Or haven’t
you heard, I’m doing your job for you.”
Baralan folded his arms behind his back while the bastard’s image went away.
“We didn’t tell him.” said Delegate Muldoon. “Why did you call him then?”
From the seats, Delegate Roche looked at her digipad. She had to have been holding her
breathe, because he saw her shoulders rise and fall quickly now that the line was empty.
Muldoon paced. “We’re going to keep this from the Sky Marshall?”
Baralan stared down his fellow Councilman. “What purpose would telling him at this
moment serve?”
“The situation’s changed.” Rease said. “We don’t necessarily have to run scared and hide.”
Delegate Vurph spun from the corner of the chamber and stomped a foot down. “What
exactly are you saying!?”
“If we have this and don’t move with it,” said Rease, “We might as well have not done any
of it. Damn it, we can get out in front of this. If the Atheists were ri—”
“Don’t.” Baralan said, calmly.
Muldoon turned and paced away. Coward. No one else voiced their opinion, or showed
much in their eyes that they had more complicated opinions than they had already shown.
Cowards.
Baralan looked to Roche again. He asked her to repeat her report once more, the final
findings of her inquisition into the good doctor-cum-preacher’s alchemical philosophy…did the
Soran allow women to preach?
“From the beginning?” Roche asked.
“The beginning. Yes.”
He listened closely, for yet another hour. Ancients. Anima. Nibiru. Genesis Star. The
beating in his chest was the same as the first time.
Mommar, Quintus
The cross lay nestled in Leto’s loving, gentle embrace. His chambers were calm enough that
he could hear the sound of the cross’s edges scratching against the skin of his thumb. He rubbed
it as he read. He rubbed it because he loved it.

Valdez/ 209
The world was nearly cleansed of heresy, yet the Soran were a bleeding people with wounds
yet to heal. The stories continued seeping into this world. Strange events happening within the
ITO. Science and a God Particle and Divinity. Hints of Vectra fighting their own, a war taking
place in the streets of their capital city. An ITO losing itself within a confusion of heresy and
blasphemy and…faith, it seemed. Stories from much closer, of Lord Andon, who did nothing. He
spoke. He prayed. He did nothing. Research of God, a God Particle, no less! To seek an energy
source from God, the Vectra wished to take God away from the faithful. It was loathsome as it
was unpardonable, a threat of blasphemy so great it threatened the very idea of what it meant to
be Soran. And where was the Foundation Lord? Minding his own calm. His people were weak
enough to abandon God because of the Vectra they tear themselves from God for the Vectra! and
he says not a word to the weakness of the Soran heart, though he asks the wounded people to
pray for their souls, the souls of the Vectra souls of the faithless because they are lost, we must
not blame them, for they know not! And our own brothers and sisters? Do they know if they are
so easily lost
so quick to leave God
there is no coming back
they abandoned Him
left us to our prayers
damn them forever!
This fear of theirs was palpable, and it was everywhere. He had overheard some of the
troopers speaking of it. They chose not to believe the stories of Godly particles, as if the Vectra
did not exist. Those that did believe said they wished for no part in it. Fear oozed out of the cuts
in their souls. What Soran should not be strong enough, capable of fighting any enemy of God?
Were his own oath not to the House Divine, he would take up a weapon himself. His tool was his
word. Who else would? The fear was everywhere. Where was his Lord Andon to cast these
heretics out? Was he not God’s voice himself? He could speak His love into the people with
words, yet they should not need him to, because faith did not waver, true faith, it was as absolute
as God Himself is the Soran heart so weak and yet those who remained in His light were
threatened by the lost who waged an unholy struggle against them, and their fleshly Lord did
nothing are the Soran so powerless!
His right hand moved slightly and his gaze lowered onto the page he had been absently
saving. His lips quivered when his eyes came upon the particular passage on the center of the
page. And I commanded and search hath been made and it is found that this city of old time hath
made insurrection against kings and that rebellion and sedition hath been made therein. He took
a moment reading farther, and rereading.
His heart picked up its pace, and he gazed into his palm, and the cross gazed back unto him.

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