***
The large auditorium was filled with all kinds of people, dressed in all sorts of garments ranging from the skimpy, adventurously revealing outfits of the Far Negus Arm of colonies and dominions, to the extravagantly posh and stylish attire of the Ritz, the metropolitan heartland of the Human League. For what it was worth, the Ex-temporal Local Authority Council Issue Docket No. 8933 Dash Five had attracted a lot of attention, most of it unwanted.
As the sizzling crowd hummed a collective tune of uneasy expectancy in the air, the same raw feeling of being slightly nervous had Ned nearly sweating. Winceham was sitting to his left; his jump from the Mary Righteous had been a resounding success. After they’d met for dinner, he was loathe to disclose details of his exact whereabouts, but he very eagerly went on to consume copious amounts of everything consumable, including beer, spirits and medical alcohol. As such, it was no wonder he was grumpy, feeling sick with a splitting headache and itching for a smoke, a small luxury that was denied to him until after the vote was cast.
Winceham toyed with his empty pipe wearing a sour expression on his face. Next to him sat Parcifal; her silent manner and grim face afforded her an awe-inspiring, deadly-looking gaze. Her eyes scanned the auditorium piecemeal, looking for danger without success. Her gaze though did lock on to the form of the Council members, once they entered the auditorium’s stage: they were dressed in elaborate, ornate, red and black robes, wearing plush velvet hats that looked like furry bloated versions of dead skunk-like creatures, strangely colored but thankfully odorless. They looked rather silly to everyone except for the crowd in the auditorium; the noise died down to a few careless whispers suddenly. Ned turned his head and asked Judith in a whisper:
“Are these things on their heads real?”
She shot him a look of troubled puzzlement before answering plaintively, “Yes.”
Winceham nudged Ned with his elbow, to get his attention. “I’m having a terrible case of gas. Did you have any of that special du jour?”
“What was the special du jour?”
“That slightly poached crab-like thing that moved and you had to whack it with a hammer.”
“That was some kind of vermin that attacked us on our way to Judith’s house,” he whispered and suddenly remembered he owed Judith an apology. Winceham furrowed his brow and began counting with his fingers.
“I’m really sorry about last night,” Ned told Judith and he was being downright sincere.
“I’m used to much worse. I rarely spent time there - I considered it as much as home as any of you. Still though, how could he do so much... So much damage in one night? I mean, he’s so diminutive,” Judith said, referring to Winceham.
“It’s a good thing the fire brigade was so fast to respond,” Ned offered and Judith needed a moment to understand who he was referring to.
“Those people where a passing circus troupe,” she finally said.
“It could’ve been a great night, though,” Ned ventured with some trepidation, silently ignoring his own failed attempt at recognition.
“Maybe,” she replied and shrugged before smiling thinly.
“Now is not the time for meaningless chatter!” Parcifal hissed suddenly and her eyes met with Ned’s in a strange, awkwardly cold fashion. She was evidently upset; she hadn’t been herself ever since Lernea had been drawn in that cataclysmic hole, possibly to become lost forever. They knew Lernea, Theo and Bo were alive, but where they had ended up was beyond them. There was little they could do, and there were more pressing issues at hand; their home planet was in danger and this was their chance to make a whole lot of difference. It was disconcerting for Ned though not to be able to read through Parcifal’s opaqueness; he didn’t know whether she was so tightened up because she might never see her sister again or because of a whole world being at stake. Still, he was worried about her, and especially that temper of hers.
Ned felt surprisingly calm and reassured. It was as if he knew that everything was somehow going to work out itself. He felt that his new friends were able to hold on their own. And even if they never met again, just knowing they were alive somewhere made him breath more easily. His mind went to Judith suddenly, without cause; there too, was a newly found friend. He smiled thinly as he ventured a sideways look to the young woman who had saved his life back on Tallyflop; he was about to say something to her when he felt Winceham’s elbow poking him through his ribs:
“Did we have any of those things?” the halfuin said, pointing to the council members’ silly, furry, hats.
“No, we didn’t. That’s a furry hat,” Ned said somewhat abrasively, which wasn’t typical of him. “At least, I think I would’ve remembered,” he added and straightened his back on the plush chair.
“Fancy the lass?” Winceham suggested with a drunken grin, nudging Ned in a childish, playful manner, eyes fluttering.
“Keep your voice down, they’re about to start!” Parcifal interjected sternly while Ned’s eyes widened and his face became flustered. He found the courage to take a peek at Judith; she was shuffling through a stack of papers, completely oblivious to Ned’s embarrassment.
“Hear ye, hear ye!” said a man dressed in colorful silken stockings and a frilly, ridiculous costume. His voice was an officious baritone that swept every inch of the auditorium as if a mysterious gale carried it forcefully.
“Docket no. 8933 dash five of the Ex-temporal Authority Council of Rampatur is now under discussion!”
A pair of loud metallic thuds echoed around the vast chamber of the auditorium - it was like sounding a gong, just without all of the brass pizazz.
“The Most Honorable Lord of Mardichoia, Lord Privy to the Seat and Excellent All-Around Protector, Bane of the Grasshopper Swarm, Member of the Order of the Lone Wolf and Herald of Most Excellent Ambassadors, Viscount Fyodor Rabastropotov presiding!” the announcer’s voice rumbled throughout the hall and there was a slight commotion as everyone stood up while the form of a short little man, rather unimposing and quite plain-looking entered the hall and slowly walked up to a long table where various stern-looking figures of authority were already seated.
“Is that the guy?” Ned whispered to Judith. She gave him a slight nod before she went wide-eyed, nodding at Winceham who was but for a breath sound asleep, slumped in his chair. Before Ned had time to do anything about it, Parcifal picked him up from his jacket and propped him straight up without a moment’s hesitation. Winceham seemed hardly surprised; his face quickly settled into a bland look of boredom and one hand went to his pipe reflexively.
“Now sit!” Parcifal hissed the next moment, in line with what everyone else was doing as the Viscount Rabastropotov settled quietly into his chair. He wore short, white, thinning hair and a bright set of blue eyes that seemed to shine with a strange shimmer at times. His only mark of office was a silver pin adorning his chest; it was the symbol of the Human League, an open human palm inside a heptagon, adorned with a golden bar and three thin stripes of glistening diamonds.
“Please, let’s get on with this. I have to pickup my granddaughters in an hour or so,” the viscount said with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. The announcer nodded and began reciting from what appeared to be an endless roll of paper: “Hear ye, hear ye, on the sixty-seventh arc of the Tripunarian Calendar, ether-adjusted to the ninety-seventh of the League Year plus three thousand, one hundred and seventy eight, by all accounts a Monday, the case of the humanoid aliens identified to wit as originating from the world of Laertia, Meniere’s Catalog No. 341-5, northwestern helix, Drovidae Sector, came to the attention of the Naval Intelligence Bureau as related in scroll-file ZYE-0944 where the-”
“For humanity’s sake, we’ll never get over this before the sun turns into a cube of ice. Skip the details,” the viscount said, rolling his eyes. Lord Trixiparton, seated a couple of seats to the viscount’s left cleared his throat and correcting him, said, “Sphere of ice, Lord Privy.”
“If I may,” he added as an afterthought and ra
n his tongue across his lips.
“It’s a figure of speech, it’s not really an issue of geometry,” the viscount replied with an almost apologetic manner. Lord Kennelsey, seated somewhat afar to his right leaned across the long table and spoke: “Lord Privy, we are tarrying here ineffectually. We haven’t even qualified these people as human and here they are, parading across the city, feasting and gallivanting like honored guests at the expenses of the Naval Intelligence Bureau whose dealings remain obumbrated and opaque at best. These people,” he said with an evident touch of scorn and perhaps some disgust in his voice, “have not been properly debriefed, vetted, approved or even tested to be properly human as per the standing standard operating procedure dictates. And it is all at the behest of Lady Govida who has time and again proved to the members of this council the precarious, practically borderline treacherous at times, nature of her actions as Head of the Naval Intelligence Bureau. Not to mention her blatant disregard for mere appearance’s sake.”
Winceham’s face twisted into a bizarre grimace of pained disbelief:
“Is he calling us aliens?” he said audibly. “I think he’s referring to you particularly,” Ned said in a misplaced effort to appease the halfuin’s worries and added, “though I wouldn’t take it to heart. I mean, technically ”
Lady Godiva spoke out of turn, attracting everyone’s attention.
“Lord Kennelsey does have the propensity to steer the discussion to his opponents’ personalities and not the real issues at hand. We are on a war footing, whether we like it or not, and my personal life is no-one’s concern. If that ever came to be of import, what of our liberties, our civility? What of the common people we have sworn to protect? Our responsibilities leave no room for the discussion of frivolous issues. What needs to be addressed here is not a council members personal life, but the Ygg, who have become a credible, rising threat to the well-being of the citizen of the Human League.”
“I haven’t tried my wiles on her yet, and still I’ve stirred up quite some turmoil. My irresistible charm has worked its magic, I see. Again,” Winceham said with a grin, clutching the pipe in his teeth and looking smugly suave. “It’s not you, it’s Tark,” Ned said shaking his head. “This is serious. It has nothing to do with you,” Parcifal said dryly and Judith voiced her concern: “Will you please stay silent? I’m liable for all of you. This is serious business, I could get in serious trouble if you keep this up.”
“Just do that, please,” Ned said in a pleading whisper to Winceham and Parcifal.
“I can’t help it if I’m simply irresistible to women,” Winceham apologized in earnest, and right before Parcifal was about to employ physical means, Lord Kennelsey’s voice boomed around the huge hall: “Trust! Trust, fellow council members and citizens, is the real issue. Lady Godiva cannot be entrusted with those responsibilities she so vividly claims to be her top priority. How can we trust someone so frivolous with her public image, a person of wild and unseemly behavior, who struts around the City of Rampatur like an infatuated child, all glitter and smiles, spending her time in the arms of an agent of the Bureau, for everyone to see. How can we trust that woman to take decisions that affect the lives of millions of Human League citizens, when she’s obviously partial to Augustus Tark!”
Lady Govida wasted no time in replying: “The good Lord Kennelsey obviously has no real facts to present to this assembly, and instead tries to smear the efforts of the men and women of the Naval Intelligence Bureau that have consistently provided the Human League with invaluable insight into this new-fangled threat. I will not go into the depth and breadth of the threat that Lord Kennelsey’s fixation with what happens in people’s bedrooms might entail for the safety of the Human League at large. It is perhaps of paramount importance in his own mind, but I have yet to see an army of lovers amassing their forces against us. We do have proof of the Ygg and their sinister plot though, to covertly infiltrate known habitable worlds and insidiously turn their populations into mindless thralls.”
Lord Kennelsey’s retort came fast, barbed and poised like a spear’s tip.
“It is no wonder Lady Govida so shamelessly admits her malfeasance to appear impervious to scrutiny. It is of course a sure sign of growing increasingly power-hungry and arrogant, which are indeed dangerous traits for a person entailed with such sensitive responsibilities. She keeps on purveying all about this Ygg threat without one solid piece of evidence. What we do have to go on is hearsay and imaginary reports from the man who is shamefully intimate with the Head of the Bureau here in Rampatur. Isn’t it beautifully convenient that this so-called threat has been identified by the man this woman is bedding?”
A hubbub rose up from the crowd. The last words of Lord Kennelsey seemed to have shocked quite a lot of people.
“Seriously, this attack on my credibility is Lord Kennelsey’s futile and desperately embarrassing effort to sway this council and the public towards his own election bid in the coming months. If there is one thing Lord Kennelsey is known for, it is his long-standing service to the Human League as chancellor and treasurer, secretary to the various bureaucratic offices and highly profitable government positions which have time and again proved vicariously indispensable to emptying our coffers in order to shuffle cartloads of paper off-world,” Lady Govida replied, wearing a slight grin.
Lord Kennelsey peered at her through slit-like eyes but did not lose his calm, and replied in kind: “Isn’t it satisfying to hear Lady Govida use the same line of reasoning against me? It is said, imitation is the most sincere form of compliment, and I thank her for that. But it is not I who seeks to spread lies and disinformation to befuddle and daze the public, wary of my pompous ways. My service to the Human League is a matter of public record; and if I were as arrogant and self-aggrandizing as Lady Govida, I would consider myself proud to have served fully and to the best of my ability the Human League through means rather less glittery and awe-inspiring than Naval Intelligence hearkens to be, but every bit as important to the cohesion of our confederacy, if not more so.”
The crowd seemed to approve of this statement, as the people seemed to nod and murmur in hushed silence. Lady Govida chose her timing well, and said: “Lord Kennelsey, this jabber of ours is of no real interest and importance. It is not a political debate but a public hearing where decisions need to be taken and approved before the public, which we all are here to serve dutifully. As it stands, I shall forgo further answering to your fantasies as if they were credible enough; Lord Privy, I now wish for the humans returned from the Tallyflop mission to present their case.”
“Surely Lord Privy, this is highly irregular. We assume these people, if we could frankly call all of them so, to be humans but ”
“I said, I need to pick up my granddaughters. It’s been kind of boring, really. Will the folks from, Laertia was it, stand up and be heard?” the Lord Privy said without making much of a fuss about it.
“All of us?” Ned stood up from his chair shyly and asked the Lord Privy in a shallow voice that was barely heard.
“Wasn’t there three of you?” the Lord Privy asked counting with a finger. “I’m right here,” Winceham said grumpily, barely visible from where the Lord Privy sat.
“Right. The short fellow.”
“Is that a problem?” Winceham asked looking for trouble.
“Not really. I mean, I can imagine it might be tough at times reaching for cupboards and such, but we do have stools,” the Lord Privy replied casually.
“They’re practically mocking this deliberation!” Lord Kennelsey interjected, pointing at Winceham irately.
“When strangers meet, great allowance should be made for differences of custom and training,” Lady Govida offered in a reconciliatory manner.
“I’ve heard that before. Seems just about right in my book,” Winceham replied and bowed slightly to her. “Thank you, Mr. Abberbottom,” Lady Govida said and nodded slightly while Winceham added, “The Third, milady”.
“This is a travesty! L
ady Govida, before our very eyes is exchanging niceties with people who have hardly identified themselves, for which we have nothing to go on other than their word.”
It was at that point that Parcifal took to the stage in a blatant breach of conduct. Another rush of whispers rose from the crowd.
“I am Parcifal Teletha, of the Teletha Clan, scion of Phedra Teletha and Helios of the Teletha family of Nomos, princess successor and adjutant to the Throne, in exile. Now that my lineage is made known, speak of yours or insult and anger me at your peril,” she said for everyone in the audience hall to hear.
“She’s really serious about that stuff, isn’t she?” Winceham told Ned, looking a bit worried Parcifal might actually go off in a sudden rampage at any moment.
“She is,” Ned said and looked at Judith who was at a complete loss for words, looking positively unable to try and contain the situation. Before anyone in the council had time to demand an explanation, a team of guards that had remained motionless like statues appeared, cradling their halberds in a defensive stance, surrounding the large table where the council sat.
Parcifal addressed them: “Stay your hand, soldiers of the Human League. I have no quarrel with you or the council, and I offer no threat. Hear me out, citizens of the Human League, before you take it upon yourselves to cast me down,” she offered loudly, standing proudly with Encelados firmly in its hilt, her arms wide open.
“As any man or woman would care to admit, I take pride in my heritage, my people and my world, which I have only recently come to realise is one of many. But I am no fool to demand of you that I be treated like nobility, or in any special way. I replied as any of you would if insulted; for a person who does not stand up for himself is someone dangerous to everyone else as well. For if it came to that, would he stand up for his brethren? Would he stand up for what is right and fair?”
People in the crowd nodded. The council remained silent and Lord Kennelsey made a move as if he was about to begin an outcry, but the Lord Privy motioned with a flick of his wrist for him to just leave Parcifal be and hear her out. He studiously complied, even though it was plainly obvious he was seething inside.
“My home is in danger. My people are at the mercy of these insidious monsters. My sister is missing along with our trusted comrades because of the Ygg. Their insipid designs are grandiose and their fanaticism is unrivaled. They will stop at nothing and they will go on forever, until the time they are wiped out, broken to the last one. They have the means and the dedication to see their nightmarish dreams come to fruition. They want to control and enslave every living, breathing, thinking creature across the stars. I have seen their ice-cold eyes stare back at me with the maddening shine of abyssal evil; they have no regard for life, nor are they capable of compassion. They are the embodiment of mindless terror, and soon they will come for you as well. As it is, they might very well be right here, among you, watching, listening, waiting,” Parcifal said and the crowd’s eyes and ears were fixed on her.
Those last few words raised a sudden throbbing noise of surprised disbelief. The uproar was too much for Lord Kennelsey.
“Fear, uncertainty and doubt! This alien, who we know nothing about, wants you good people in disarray, chasing after shadows! She is nothing but an insidious instrument in a well-contrived ploy of Lady Govida’s making! It is preposterous to hear such lies spewed forth and expect us to believe them based on nothing but good faith!”
“If you do not trust your own people that have gone in great lengths to uncover as much as possible about the scourge of the Ygg, then I find it no surprise that you’re so eagerly willing to disregard our warning as mere lies. But I am offended that you seek to besmirch me in front of your citizens instead of listening to the harsh, unsettling truth, which that my homeland is in danger. And yours as well.”
“Evidence! Where is the evidence of that? A thousand words cannot move a greased-up wheel!” Lord Kennelsey demand in fury.
“A sad choice of words, Lord Kennelsey,” interjected Lady Govida and beckoned into the shadows. Augustus Tark appeared shortly thereafter, dressed in an all-leather suit, similar to the suit Judith wore, holding a slightly over-sized satchel. A pair of robed men appeared, pushing a weird contraption on wheels, all sorts of bizarre machinery and brass fittings cobbled together in an eye-jarring fashion.
“This is highly irregular!” pointed out Lord Trixiparson as if remembering to add something of zero importance to the proceedings. Everyone ignored him, their eyes set on the strange machine.
“This is a Thaumaturgic Neural Correlator. It is a highly experimental device that has been secretly under development for quite some time now. Even though revealing it to the public poses a certain security risk, it is deemed appropriate that we uncover it in the eyes, and ears, of the public.”
“You have gone to great lengths to deceive the public, Lady Govida,” Lord Kennelsey said and addressed the crowd: “These sort of spurious devices are nothing but elaborate ways to leech funding for other, much more mundane yet luxurious personal purposes. What sort of evidence can this machine hope to provide, other than fizzling sounds and blinding, obnoxious lights?”
“This,” Tark said and opened the satchel, letting the head of an Ygg drop to the floor boisterously.
The crowd gasped and the hall reverberated with panicked cries of abject horror, drowning out Lord Kennelsey’s attempts to laugh off the machine.
“It is merely a prop!” he said but noone seemed to think so.
“Looks authentic to me,” Winceham told Ned who nodded affirmatively with a furrowed brow, looking over his shoulder to the now restless crowd.
“Order please! There will be order! I need to pickup my granddaughter soon, and I’ll have none of that!” the Lord Privy boomed in a surprising fashion. Lady Govida shot Tark a slightly reprimanding look and explained to everyone in the auditorium: “Please, do not worry. This is a mostly harmless and quite crucial procedure. Mr. Tark, if you please,” she said and nodded while the crowd was still in an uproar.
Tark picked up the Ygg head with a total lack of good taste and etiquette when it comes to severed dead things and place it on a small pedestal on the strange machine. The crowd reacted with a sudden silence. The two male assistants fiddled with some obscure controls and the machine came to life with a buzzing, ominous, reverberating sound. The crowd physically recoiled in their seats, but their eyes were glued to the machine. A few sparks and rivulets of lightning flew in the air around some parts of the machine and in the next moment, the head opened its eyes, revealing their deep blue-in-blue color.
“Humans!” it cried, the tendrils around its maw writhing with spasms.
The crowd was shocked into a frozen silence. Lady Govida rose and addressed the Ygg head in an officious, stern manner.
“Who are you?”
“We are Ygg. We are all and one,” it said in a bizarre, jarred fashion, as if trying to breath through a no longer existent throat.
“What is your purpose? Why did you attack and threaten to kill one of our own? What was your purpose on Tallyflop?”
“Kill. Enslave. The will of the mind. The purpose of all life is to end,” the Ygg said throatily.
“What are you plans?” she asked of it.
“End all life. Usher in the eternal void.”
“We wish to parley. We do not wish you harm. We are willing to leave you be if you reciprocate,” Lady Govida said, sounding firm and fair.
“Parley? Leave us be? Reciprocate?” the Ygg said in a puzzled, drowsy, voice that crackled.
“We wish to negotiate.”
“There is no meaning. We are legion. We are one and many. Resist and be obliterated. Obey and your husks will be celebrated as vessels of the void. Your mewling, pathetic voices will praise the void and the will of the Mind. The Ygg are chosen. Your dying breaths will serve as vibrant chords in the symphony that is to come. Your ”
The voice died down as soon as the head’s eyes flickered wildly before
it sagged into being consistently lifeless once more. Tark had pulled the plug on that machine.
“What kind of trickery is this?”
“It’s thaumaturgy, highly advanced in fact. Notably indistinguishable from trickery for someone so profoundly lacking in the understanding of science such as yourself Lord Kennelsey. This is your proof. Straight from the Ygg’s mouth, as well, if you’ll excuse the pun,” Tark said, grinning wildly, making sure that it was apparent to everyone he was enjoying himself immensely.
“I propose that a small strike team is dispatched to the world of Laertia, currently under immediate threat from an Ygg cell that is threatening to turn the world into one huge slave camp to further increase their capacity to wreak havoc. It is in the interest of the Human League that we deal with this threat efficiently,” Lady Govida announced.
“Efficiently, you say? Well if this threat is supposedly real, and these creatures are as populous as you lead us to surmise, dear Lady Govida, isn’t it a mockery to ask this of us? A small strike team? Just one ship and your beloved Tark? These aliens you have so willingly accepted into our fold without good and just cause? Ridiculous!”
“Your point being, Lord Kennelsey?”
“My point, Lady Govida,” Lord Kennelsey said with cold mocking undertones, “is that we know nothing of their disposition, their forces or their capabilities. And if it is one thing we should not let ourselves fall for, is your machinations in using up resources for a wild goose chase, just so that your enamored agent Tark can have one of his many holidays. Such matters must be dealt with decisively, in full force and with the care and organization that the Human League has strove for over the thousand of years of its existence. Several scout vessels would be needed to collect information on this imaginary enemy of yours, as well as support vessels, at least a legion of armed men with their matching troop transports, pickets and destroyers to provide cover for such a fleet and last but not least, a flotilla of battle-cruisers to provide field support and be able to engage such a supposedly powerful enemy with more than just an upper hand.”
“I motion for Lord Kennelsey’s petition to be approved!” Lady Govida said, and the crowd unanimously sent the walls chiming with a resounding “Aye!”. The council members hesitantly raised their hands in approval, and the Lord Privy said in a loud, officious voice: “The motion is approved.”
He then whispered to Lady Govida, “I really need to pickup my granddaughter, or I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“This is preposterous! I was merely suggesting that the foul thinking that ”
“This is politics, Lord Kennelsey,” Lady Govida said with a thin smile, interrupting him, and Winceham couldn’t help but ask Ned: “Does this mean I can have a smoke now? I’m bloody well ready to explode.”