You waited so long for another chapter that it would be remiss of me not to make up for the deficit. Two chapters in three days, aren't you lucky?
- Phil
The meeting had so far not gone as badly as Manwë had feared. It had gone much, much worse.
Melkor's megalomaniacal entrance had set the tone; for every point of order brought up, Melkor found angles from which to attack it. He grilled his comrades for answers over even the most trivial points, cross-examining them like criminals in the dock. No solution, no suggestion raised would please him; one-by-one each presentation had met with scorn. Tempers began to fray; more than one officer had accused Melkor of venturing opinions on matters in which he had no expertise. And always, his excuse was the same – I'm just playing Devil's advocate, he would say, looking out for the best interests of the colony. The words had been repeated so many times that Nessa had started joining in under her breath.
When his own turn had come around, Melkor had milked the moment for all it was worth, promising an Arda which was beautiful and awe-inspiring, and a dedication to the betterment of Ain life which could not be surpassed. His plans for the infrastructure of the colony's information network were well-received, but at times his speech felt less presentation, more propaganda, as if he were actively craving adulation. The room breathed a silent sigh of relief when he finally reached an end, having spoken for longer than all the previous speakers combined. Manwë called for a recess, graciously accepted by an audience that had been talked into submission, and gestured for Melkor to join him outside.
"Do you think this is a joke?" he fumed, his voice low and dangerous, cornering his younger brother in a culvert by the door. "You're sitting there like the Child King reborn, and insulting the people you're going to be working with! Living with, even!"
"Insulting?" Melkor scoffed. "This is a discussion, isn't it? It's not one of your dinner parties, where we all sit and listen to speeches and applaud when they're over! I'm trying to make a difference here!"
"You are making a difference," Manwë replied. "You're making every person in that room hate you." Melkor's mouth closed in a tight line. "This isn't a popularity contest. No-one's giving you points for being the cleverest boy in the room anymore. If you speak out of turn one more time, just once, you'd better have a bloody good reason for it."
Manwë turned and left Melkor alone in the corridor, brooding silently. He had succeeded in raising his brother's ire to breaking point; always fun, but the circumstances had required a little more tact. Snarling like a chastened beast, he returned to the meeting room to find everyone back in their seats and ready to start over.
"Lieutenant Commander Oromë," Manwë addressed the burly man to his left, "what do you have to say to us?"
"Nothing," Oromë replied, to the surprise of no-one. "You all know me, and you all know what I do. On my honour, I'll fulfil all expectations of me and obey all orders. But I do have a question for you, Commander." Oromë turned in his seat, creaking under his weight, to fix Manwë with a stare that would cow a wolverine. "Honoured as I am to serve, I was surprised to find you had folded Recon and Security under the same remit, given that we don't have any Security officers accompanying us. I, for one, would like to know what prompted such a decision."
Manwë cleared his throat. "Of course," he replied, setting aside his tablet. "At this table, I'm as accountable as the rest of you. Call me a cock-eyed optimist-"
"I might," Oromë quipped, sending a wave of discomfort around the table. Manwë paused to regain his train of thought.
"Call me what you will," he said, "but I have complete faith in the competence and loyalty of my officers and their crewmen. I think a full-time security team would cost valuable resources which could be better spent elsewhere, at such a critical stage of development of the colony."
"Yes, I read your report too, Commander," Oromë replied, getting dangerously close to insubordination – though in reality, even Manwë would have balked at shutting the hulk of a man down. "I want you to tell me that the safety of the colony is your prime concern, and how you plan to do that without a security team."
Manwë propped himself up on his elbows and met Oromë's gaze. "This isn't some heathen wilderness we're dropping into," he replied. "This planet has been designed to exacting specifications by the finest minds Ain has ever known – Captain Eru would, I'm sure, go so far as to describe it as a paradise. I'm not sure I entirely agree, but the fact remains – we made this planet. That means we control it. Barriers and deterrents have already been set up to protect the colony from marauding wildlife, every person here has combat, survival and disaster training and, like I said, I trust everyone here implicitly. We will not have enemies on Arda, but should the unthinkable happen…well, I can think of no-one I'd trust with my life more than you, Lieutenant Commander."
Oromë leaned back in his chair slowly, keeping Manwë's gaze. "Very good, Commander," he conceded, and spoke no more. Manwë breathed a silent sigh of relief and checked his tablet to see who was next on the agenda. His heart sunk. "Doctors," Manwë said, forcing himself to look interested, "would you like to begin?"
"Gladly, Commander," Irmo replied, standing as Estë slotted clear crystals into the central console in the middle of the table. "There's no need to go into the affliction from which we all suffer. That last, most tragic victim of the Blight; not content with taking our young and ravaging the Mother Goddess – it stole our very future away from us."
"I think what the Doctor is trying to say," Mandos interrupted grumpily, "is that we're all shooting blanks. Continue."
A childish snort drowned out Irmo's embarrassed cough, Manwë cast a warning eye down the table to Malkor, who sat with his face contorted in restrained mirth. Manwë would have wagered that part of Melkor's amusement was because he was thinking of saying it himself.
"Yes," Irmo continued, recovering. "Sterility. It's a problem we've worked on for decades, but with no success. It appears the Blight has re-written our very genetic structure from the ground up; genetic manipulation is one thing, but this…this is the very essence of life itself we're trying to understand. It would take centuries to work out, and, as I'm sure none of you need reminding, we're running out of time. But," he intoned, casting his hand over the central console to bring up a rotating hologram, "more time is exactly what this miracle will give us."
The table leaned forward as one to examine the strange pyramidal structure displayed before them. One section was cut away to reveal chamber upon chamber filled with chaotic columns of glittering light.
"What is it?" Nienna asked.
"It's a suspended animation chamber," Estë explained, pressing a button to begin a pre-loaded sequence which peeled back the pyramid, layer by layer. "The most advanced ever built."
Aulë made a noise of disbelief. "If that scale's right, this thing is a mile high and twice as wide, we'll all be long dead before it's finished!"
"Oh, no," Irmo corrected him with a smile, "it's already built. And it's not a mile high," he said as Aulë's jaw dropped, "it's a mile deep."
"The chamber has been built into the very curst of Arda," Estë explained as the table began to mutter, pressing another button tozoom out and show the chamber's position beneath the surface, "using the Virgin's heart and veins for power."
"The core," Melkor whispered, enraptured. "And seams of copper in the living rock!"
"Ever so," Irmo confirmed. "All we need do is hook our technology up to it; the Virgin Mother will do the rest."
"How will we decide who gets put into statis?" Ulmo asked. "One out, one in?"
"All in," replied Irmo. "Our bodies will be placed in the chamber," he explained, starting another demonstration; a body was laid on a plinth extruding from one of the huge columns and crystals grew over it, covering it completely. "Biomechanical interfaces will keep us unconscious and alive – practically forever. But above…" Irmo chuckled. He'd been waiting for this moment. "Your conscious mind will project itself onto the surface, in whatever form seems best to you." The hologram swooped up from the chamber to the "ground", where a perfect facsimile flashed into being.
"This body will be as real as your very own; the mind makes it so. You will see, hear, smell, eat, laugh and love – but eternally. We will not age, we will not sicken; to solve the problem of our propagation, my friends, we have – literally – all the time in the world."
The crowd took the news of their impending immortality, Manwë thought, rather well. "Thank you, Doctors," he nodded to Irmo and Estë. "Well, follow that, Commander Aulë."
"I have a question," Melkor interrupted as Aulë opened his mouth to speak, "if I may," he added, looking directly as his brother. "You say this body is as real as our own; can it be hurt, then?"
Irmo coughed. "Well, I would imagine pain responses would remain identical, given the-"
"I didn't ask if you could feel pain," Melkor interrupted him, "I asked if you could be hurt."
"He's got a point," Oromë grunted, "Immortal doesn't mean invincible. I most of all have reason to fear injury on Arda – can it happen?"
"Yes," Estë replied firmly, cutting off Irmo's dithering. "As said before; the mind makes it so. It's never been tested…obviously," she continued, wary of Melkor's beady eye, "but I have to assume that injury caused to the avatar would be as lasting as if it happened on your own body."
"Good to know," Melkor replied unctuously. Silence fell over the group once more.
"Aulë," Manwë addressed the engineer, "if you would?"
Aulë cleared his throat and stood up. "As Chief-oh, excuse me, CO-chief of Engineering on Arda, I propose the following solution to our energy needs…" He fumbled through his pockets for a crystal, which Yavanna fished out for him. Thanking her as he slid it into the console, he resumed his speech.
"This technology was in the experimental phase when we left Ain," he explained as another hologram flickered into life, "but I believe that I have stabilised it." A huge, tapered building, like the lighthouses that dotted the coastlines of Ain in the days when there were still seas, rose from the console. Its top glared with an ethereal light.
"There are two problems facing us which I intend to solve," Aulë announced, hitting his stride. "First, we need power; second, we need light. This complex – these complexes, rather, for there's to be two of them – will see to both. Rods penetrate the crust," he went on, the hologram shearing itself in half to reveal thick metal poles running down the inside of its length, "and conduct geothermal energy at the rate of trillions of units per second. A gravitational well here-" he pointed to the luminescent bulb atop the tower, "-forces this energy into a singularity. And at this point of infinite denseness and infinite energy-" A flash of light exploded atop the hologram. "-a star is born." Gasps ripped around the table. Aulë smiled smugly. Only Melkor remained impassive, absorbing information.
"One in the North," he continued as the hologram showed a representation of Arda with a glowing tower at its Northern pole, "and one in the South." Another glowing tower appeared at the southern pole. "The turn of the planet powers the flow of the mantle, which powers each complex in sequence; as one brightens, the other dims, and vice-versa. Giving us-"
"Sunrise and sunset," Varda sighed, unable to keep a sigh of joy from her words.
"Precisely," Aulë replied. An impromptu round of applause broke out. The engineer looked as though he might faint. "There is one potential drawback, however," he blurted, as if fearful of his own success. "It will require the full weight of the Engineering department, not to mention significant help from Geosat and Environmental," he gestured to Varda and Ulmo.
"I'll make sure we can give you whatever help you need," Varda replied eagerly.
"As will I," Ulmo concurred, "but what does your co-Chief think of this, I wonder; having to relinquish control of his junior officers to you?" All heads turned to Melkor, who remained inscrutable. After some moments of silence, he broke into a smile.
"You set 'em up," Melkor replied, "and I'll knock 'em down. Consider it done."
A good humour swept the room, and Aulë took his seat a little shakily, evidently having expected more of an argument. With no other business to cover, Manwë called the meeting to a close.
Seats were nosily vacated and chatter quickly filled the air. "Good meeting, everyone," Melkor said with apparent sincerity, raising a few eyebrows.
"I liked your surveillance system, Commander," Nessa replied, keeping an eye out to make sure Varda couldn't see her 'fraternising with the enemy', as she had once blurted in her cups after the conclusion of their investigation.
"Thank you, Lieutenant," Melkor replied. "I do my best. Oh, and, for what it's worth, I'm sorry."
"Sorry for what?" Nessa replied, bemused.
Melkor looked askance, embarrassed. "Sorry that my presence cost Tulkas his place here." Nessa's lips parted slowly, uncomprehending. "The Captain thought I was too inexperienced to serve as chief of Engineering," he explained, just loud enough for others to start earwigging, "so he told Commander Manwë to lose me or get me some help. I'm, of course, very grateful to Aulë for his help, but…" He shrugged sadly.
"Commander," Manwë warned his brother.
"Is this true?" Nessa interrupted him. "Did you keep Tulkas here so you could have your brother with us instead?" She asked, growing incandescent with barely-checked anger.
"Lieutenant, I think you're forgetting yourself!" Manwë barked at her, stiffening her back.
"But is it?" Ulmo asked, his black eyes narrowed. "Is this why this mission has no security team, because you hired your brother a babysitter?"
Varda and Yavanna both piped up at once, admonishing Ulmo.
"-completely out of line-"
"-can't say Aulë doesn't have skills to offer, just look-"
A deafening bang caused the whole room to flinch and fall silent. Oromë loomed over the table, his fist planted hard into the wood. "Commander," he asked, his voice a deep rasp, "did you lie on your mission statement to the captain? Did you just lie to this committee?" He asked, his face growing uncomfortable close to Manwë's own.
"That's a very serious accusation, Lieutenant Commander," Manwë said darkly, facing up to the huge man unafraid. "I have never disobeyed an order or lied to a superior officer in my life!"
"What about your comrades? Your friends?" Ulmo pressed him, closing the gap between them. "Would you lie to them?"
A full-blown row erupted, with Yavanna, Aulë and Varda defending Manwë against the accusations of Nessa, Ulmo and Oromë. Nienna tried time and again to appeal for calm, but passions already ran too high for her to be acknowledged. Brother and sister, husband and wife found themselves on opposite sides of the argument as eventually the row itself became the sticking-point.
"Stop this," Mandos called out frantically, "stop this! Division is his goal! Strife his meat, distrust his drink!" Vairë fussed and fretted over her distressed husband, holding him tight as his eyes rolled back into his head, his mad, meaningless cries lost in the tumult of voices.
Manwë, the outrage over his decision having long been surpassed by a litany of perceived slights from one officer or another, sank down into this chair, blanched and stunned. Across the table, he watched Melkor rise and depart, a smug grin covering his face, holding his brothers' gaze through the sea of bodies until the gilded doors closed before him, leaving Manwë to his mutiny.