Chapter 3: The Advocates
"This
is highly irregular, de Medici. What
would the rest of the Enclave say if they knew?"
"But
they won't know unless you tell them, D'Argent. And why would a clever man like yourself even contemplate doing
such a rash thing like that?"
"This
goes against everything we've built, everything we've supported…"
"Everything
you've supported, my dear Nuada. And
besides, we're not doing anything illicit, are we? For all anyone knows, this is simply a chat between friends." To emphasize his point, the First tier
advocate nodded his head pleasantly to the couple that strolled past, a picture
of civility and nonchalance.
"Hmph."
Nuada
D'Argent glanced at his companion as they made their way through the airy
walkways of First tier Plaza. It was a
clear summer day, early enough in the season that the artificial ozone layer
was able to filter out most of the sun's disastrous ultraviolets. The sky was a gentle cerulean above them,
the grass a vibrant green. Nuada never
failed to think of early nineteenth century Impressionists whenever he came
aboveside to visit.
In
contrast to the serene surroundings, Giancarlo de Medici was a study in harsh
planes and angles. He towered over his
portly counterpart by a good sixteen centimeters, slashing scenery as his thin
frame knifed past. His aquiline nose
hawked over a thin-lipped mouth and his sharp cheekbones jutted prominently
from a pale face. Even de Medici's eyes
called forth images of splintered glass, shard-like chips of obsidian that
rarely showed emotion. Clean-shaven,
hair shorn short in aristo fashion and coolly elegant in impeccably-cut robes,
Giancarlo de Medici was a formidable man and was perhaps the most dangerous in
all of history to have donned the mantle of First tier Enclave advocate.
An
unobtrusive beep interrupted Nuada's contemplation of his sometime adversary
and current co-conspirator. De Medici
paused in their stroll and held up an index finger to indicate a call coming
through. He closed his eyes and 'pathed
directly to the Hub, accepting the transmission. Nuada graciously walked a few meters away to give the man
privacy, even as he secretly envied de Medici's Empath abilities.
"She
has him. They're waiting for you at the
Academy." De Medici approached the Second tier Advocate after only a handful of
minutes.
"She
caught him yesterday?"
"Last
night."
"But
the chutes don't activate until noon." Nuada glanced at the chrono on his wrist
to make sure he wasn't mistaken. "How…?"
"Nuada,
my friend, there are secrets even you, as Academy president, are not privy
to. Suffice to say, the Morrigu has our
guest happily ensconced in your demesnes. I wouldn't doubt that they are currently taking liberties with your
choice vintages."
Nuada
spluttered incoherently at the thought. If there was one thing the usually ascetic man indulged in it was his
private stock of wines. Considered
contraband for most due to the rarity of land to grow the grapes on, wine was
usually reserved for the tables of the First Families only. Nuada owning a bottle, let alone an entire
cellar, was tantamount to high treason. Only his friendship with de Medici kept him from being thrown in the
gaol.
"Calm
yourself, my friend. A jest only, to be
sure. I doubt that Ikeda is in any mood
to celebrate at the moment. Speaking of
celebration, however, how goes it with your discovery?"
At
the mention of his protégé, Nuada immediately forgot his wines and beamed
proudly.
"Shinobu
is doing exceptionally well. His 'path
ratios rival even the most purestrain of aristos."
"Yes,
yes. I've seen the stats you sent
earlier. That was not what I meant. I want to know if you've apprised him of our
little venture."
"Well,
actually, we've been so excited over the tests that I…"
"Nuada,
you know as well as I that our plans need to be executed in the most expedient
manner as possible. It's difficult
enough having one unwilling player. I
need to know if Tezuka will be ready when the time comes."
"Oh,
I have no doubt," Nuada replied, his eyes taking on an uncharacteristically
steely sheen. "Shinobu will be
operative in the week we had allotted for preparation and debriefing. You just have to do your part in the
meantime."
"You
mean the Enclave? Do you really foresee
any dissenters? Aside from that
irritating little gnat, of course." De
Medici led them down the spiral that made up the center of the Plaza. It was less populated here, the chest-high
hedges effectively ensuring privacy as the two men wound through the circular
path.
"That
irritating gnat is still Third tier advocate, Giancarlo."
"Loki
Swift is an insignificant City dweller, a popinjay so puffed up with his own
self-importance that he would argue he was a woman if it suited his
purposes. All the Enclave knows
this. I can deal with Swift's protests,
wearying though that may be. Besides,"
de Medici indulged in a rare smile that, rather than putting Nuada at ease,
only filled him with trepidation, "by the time the rest of our brethren realize
what we've set in motion, the key players will be out of their reach."
"Do
you have a crew? A ship? Provisions? A trip of that magnitude…they'd have to be equipped to survive at least
nine months in space."
"The
gears are in motion. All is taken care
of. If I didn't know better, my friend,
I'd think you were stalling for time." De Medici kept walking but flicked a
glance at his companion out of the corner of his eye.
"And
if I didn't know better, my friend, I'd think you were trying to put me on the
defensive because you're keeping something from me." Nuada matched the man's
even tone.
"Touche."
Nuada
chuckled softly and de Medici snorted, both reacting to the adversarial
camaraderie that characterized their friendship. Neither one would give an inch, of course; they would both play
their cards close to their chests. The
two advocates were wise enough to recognize that men in power such as they did
well to keep a few secrets from the other, friends though they may be.
They
reached the center of the spiral then, pausing to admire the fountain of Pallas
Athene located in the heart of the pseudo maze. Nuada thought of the paradox the goddess represented: war and
wisdom. But perhaps not so much a
paradox? After all, hadn't mankind
waged war throughout history because of wisdom gained or wisdom withheld? What a fitting place to plot what could
possibly lead to the end of their society.
The
hefty Second tier advocate sat down wearily on one of the stone benches
surrounding the fountain, surreptitiously wiping at his brow with the corner of
his robe's sleeve. He was no longer a
young man, and his life at the Academy was not conducive to hard labor. He was out of shape. If this all came down to war, Nuada knew he
would be the first to fall. He didn't
think he could count on de Medici for aid. Nuada stroked his graying beard nervously. He had others. But would
they be enough?
"So
everything's in order and once again, we come full circle to me."
"Aye."
"And
to Shinobu."
"Aye. Your unbelievable discovery. The Academy's best-kept secret. It's ironic, really." De Medici joined him
on the bench.
"What
is?"
"That
you concern yourself with appeasing the Enclave so much yet you have been
heading a project that would have them stone you for heresy at the very least."
"It's
unorthodox, yes. But if they only saw
the charts, they'd forget all about tier hierarchy! Why, the neurists have told me that Shinobu's charts read higher
than your best Empath by ten percent!"
"I
find that hard to believe."
"But
you said you read my report. It's all
in there!"
De
Medici paused, caught in his flagrant lie. If he were honest, he really didn't give a damn about Shinobu Tezuka and
his supposedly astounding abilities. All he expected from Nuada's protégé was enough Empath skills to
complete the mission successfully. After it was all over, the Third tier dweller could go back to being the
nonentity he had been, for all de Medici cared. Still, Nuada seemed to care for the little manling so it would be
bad form to antagonize his peer too soon. Appeasement was in order.
"I
must confess: I merely skimmed the data. You know we Empaths don't bother reading," de Medici was
apologetic. "It's a sad commentary on
society, I know, so don't get on your soapbox, Nuada. But we have relied on our Empath skills for long before the Collapse. It's a very difficult habit to break. And when you send me these data streams on
my palmscreen…ah, too many words!"
Nuada
was about to make a nasty comment about the illiteracy rate amongst First
tiers, especially First Family members, when he realized that pointing it out
would be like tipping his hand. Firsters were notorious for their distinct lack of interest in anything
not instantaneous, reading being one of them. This aversion was what kept them so aloof from everyone belowside and it
had its definite advantages. It was how
Nuada had smuggled his wines into the Academy, First tier Guardians being
really lax when reading order dockets.
But at times like these, when expediency is key…he even stressed so himself! How could he not read the damned reports? Sometimes, I could just throttle the man!
Nuada
had just about decided to indulge in his ire and scold his friend anyway when
de Medici stunned him by falling off the bench, his head clutched in both
hands. He tumbled over so quietly, so
gracefully. But the advocate's face was
frozen in a rictus of pain, and the seriousness of the situation was not lost
to Nuada.
"What
is it? What's wrong?" He knelt by his
friend's side, genuine fear spiraling in his stomach.
The
water from the fountain played counterpoint to de Medici's rasping breathing.
"Giancarlo! Should I call a medic?" Nuada made to leave but was stopped by a
hand clutching his robes.
"Nuada…you
insufferable…academic…" de Medici managed a rueful chuckle even as he winced in
pain. "You were…right. I should have…read those...reports."
"What
are you talking about?"
"That,
my friend, was what we Empaths call recoil feedback. Help me…?" de Medici gestured to the bench.
"That
sounds ugly. And pretty painful, if it
made you so weak you're asking for help," Nuada cracked, his normal aplomb
shaken so much that he dispensed with tact and fell back on bluntness instead.
De
Medici glared at the implied chink in his armor but was too spent to put up
much of a fight. Wearily rubbing at his
temples, he offered an explanation: "Your untrained Empath spiked a message."
"Spiked? Recoil feedback? Giancarlo, this is all Greek to me."
"Well,
I'm no trained neurist so this may be a bit sketchy, but as far as I know,
purestrain Empaths are trained at birth to control their neural waves. We're taught not to "shout" because it fries
the synapses of those within a two-meter radius of us. If you're a high-level Empath, you can
inadvertently kill someone with merely a thought. Are you following this?"
"I'm
not a child, Giancarlo."
"True. As I was saying, then: purestrains are
trained at birth. Halfstrains we
discover early enough – they usually reveal their abilities at adolescence –
and, although it's more difficult for them, they learn to master control over
their brain waves too. But once in a
while, we stumble on a rogue Empath, someone either too old to learn the
tricks, or simply too unstable emotionally to handle the input from non-Empath
folk who have no control over their thoughts.
Imagine
the pain these rogues go through. It's
similar to being forced to listen to hundreds of thousands of audiodecks at the
same time, with no way to turn down the volume or focus on one channel. The Empaths who can't control their synapses
go insane. Or they kill
themselves. Or they spike and then they
kill others."
"Spiking
is like shouting, then?" Nuada tried to make sense of the information.
"You
could say that. But because it's not
directed at any one person, like a "shout" would be, the spike is much less
discriminate. Depending on the
intensity of the rogue's emotion and the level of his capabilities, a spike
could penetrate even the most experienced Empath's thought shields and overload
synapses. When that happens, any Empath
within a four-meter radius gets a taste of that power unleashed and thus,
recoil feedback."
"And
you have some rogues around here now?"
"No,
we don't. The last rogue we dealt with
killed herself because she was hurting her family."
"Then..."
"The
only untrained Empath I know of is your protégé, Nuada."
"Shinobu? But he's at the Academy on Second tier! That's nearly 600 meters down!"
De
Medici looked directly at his friend. For the first time in the nearly twenty years of friendship between
them, Nuada saw fear lacing the man's dark eyes as the same realization hit him
too.
"Yes,
he is."
Nuada
swallowed convulsively. "But he was
doing so well! He had control over his
synapses! We threw every test we could
at him and he handled each one magnificently!"
"Well,
perhaps your boy is not as adept as you think. Either that," de Medici raised a hand against his friend's protest, "or
something happened belowside, Nuada. Something so traumatic that it sent Tezuka over the edge."
"But
what could possibly be so harrowing that would make Shinobu lose control like
that?"
"I
think you need to find that out."
