ACT II | THE TYRANT'S HUNGER


CHAPTER VIII | POTENTIAL


VALENTIN'S ROOM | THE KREMLIN | SOVIET UNION

He floated, disembodied; above the plateau of otherworldly land; the stars and nebulae shimmering in the background. He saw it as the Garden again, only a portion; isolated from the wider land; though now he was only a passive observer. He saw the woman bearing the mantle of the Sky, and the eternal Light flowing around Her. She stood in a small patch of the Garden fragment, kneeling over it as She molded it to Her liking.

He watched, enraptured as She painstakingly planted each seed, infused the poisoned red land with fertility, and the redness became lush like soil; luscious and healthy. With a finger She carved a path in the land, and lifted mountains from the dire. Plants rose; water filled the canals; life grew. A drop of golden ichor dripped from a finger, and from it sprouted life from the soil.

It was not dissimilar to how the Queen had tended to the Garden, though the Celestial was doing more than maintaining the status quo. She was changing it. Healing it. Turning it into something alive and beautiful.

He watched as the small patch of the Garden grew, all under Her careful eye. A slight adjustment here, another drop of blood there, and She moved throughout it, refining mountains and carving oceans. He knew what he was looking at now, and was forever attracted to seeing it to the end.

Hours passed. Perhaps days. He did not know, for time seemed meaningless in such a place. Minute or hour, it made no difference. He could feel Her now; pride. Satisfaction in Her creation. Relief at the knowledge that life would thrive here. She stood, shrouded in the Day, and turned to look at him.

Words were not spoken, but he knew what the acknowledgement signaled.

It was done.

He woke up.

There were times when he awoke, and still felt like he was ready to fall back into the embrace of unconsciousness. It was an irritating funk that he had to force himself through; one where he was not tired enough to not function, but not awake enough to feel active and motivated. Quite indicative of a bad night of sleep, or not enough actual rest.

Yet now, Valentin felt the exact opposite upon waking up. His mind was charged, and the vestiges of weariness were gone – despite the fact that the sun had yet to rise in the Soviet horizon. He flicked on the lights, and kicked the sheets off, even as the softness beckoned him to stay in place. The bed was supremely comfortable – everything in this room was luxury he hadn't ever expected to experience.

Yet here he was. Valentin, the newest hero of the Soviet Union. The herald of a new era, or so Clovis had boasted in his toast that night. It was so…surreal to hear those words coming from the most powerful man in the Soviet Union, and echoed by the powerful men and women around him. He wondered if he had truly misjudged the man. He certainly hadn't expected a wholehearted embrace of what he said.

Nonetheless, Clovis had done so – and even more than that.

He'd stumbled through that dinner, unfamiliar with the norms, traditions, and customs of Soviet high society. Fang would have excelled in a place like this, but he was a fish out of water. The best he could do was smile, nod, answer a question or two, and hope he didn't offend someone important. Yet most people had been friendly, and asked him a bunch of easily answerable questions.

What was Mars like?

Are there animals?

What was it like to fly a starship?

Are you going to play yourself in the movie?

Small questions. Silly questions. Questions devoid of any hard answers. He couldn't help but wonder if there was an unspoken rule not to speak about certain things. The Traveler. The vision. The Ghosts. Things of a more…delicate nature. Which he was personally grateful for. He didn't know what he would say, or should say.

Obviously, details of what he'd seen he didn't expect the Central Committee to spread to the public.

Though he wasn't thinking of any of that right now.

As he brushed his teeth, and contemplated taking advantage of a shower, his thought were on the dream. No…not a dream. It definitely wasn't that. It wasn't quite a vision either. She seemed to have reached out directly to him. A message. He spat out the toothpaste, and ran the water briefly from the sink. "[Vigil?]"

The Ghost popped out by his shoulder. "[Yes? You are awake early.]"

"[Is it normal for the Traveler to send a…dream?]"

The gears of the machine clicked, as it seemed to contemplate an answer. "[You believe you received such?]"

"[Yes.]"

"[That is very uncommon,]" it floated around to face him directly. "[It is something reserved for only a few. One She trusts to speak for Her. What did you see?]"

"[Mars,]" he said, before briefly shaking his head. "[Well, not literally Mars. But I knew what it was. It was part of the Garden. A part She was tending to. I watched Her nurture and grow it. She stood, and…well, She didn't say as much, but it seemed clear. I think She is done with the planet. She will move to another one.]"

The fins of the Ghost spun. "[Yes. I was going to mention that She has finished, and will be moving to one of the moons of your planet Jupiter. Yet it seems like you were already told…]" He trailed off. "[I presume you will want to tell your people of this, before they panic when they see Her gone?]"

"[Yes, assuming they are not listening already.]"

"[Ah,]" the tone turned slightly warmer. "[Well, regardless, there is little cause for alarm. I imagine today will be an important day for you, and all involved.]"

"[Yes,]" Valentin nodded firmly. "[This is the day where we create the new future.]"

"[Do you trust Clovis Bray?]"

"[I wasn't sure…but I think, maybe, we can. I guess we won't know for sure yet…but yesterday went better than I'd hoped. We just need to make sure everything is on the right track.]"

There was a brief moment of silence. "[I'm happy you enjoyed yourself yesterday evening.]"

Valentin snorted. "['Enjoyed' being subjective, when I wasn't anxious about who I was speaking to. Do you even feel emotions?]"

"[Not quite in the same way – that would be impossible,]" the parts of the Ghost briefly separated and reattached to seemingly prove its point. "[But I can spot, understand, and mimic such emotions. It is real enough where I can feel pleased when you are relaxed. Considering what you have gone through, it is well-earned.]"

"[Well, thank you, Vigil,]" Valentin said. Machine or not, he was glad he had it hovering around him. It was perhaps the one thing outside of his actual friends that he could trust – and really the only one he could fully trust here. "[We've all got work to do here. As Clovis said – the new era begins today.']"


CHAMBERS OF THE GRAND AYATOLLAH | TEL AVIV | ISRAEL

It was a beautiful night out; one of those crisp evenings with a light breeze, a cooling temperature, and the stars overhead. A night where Hamaza could sit on the patio and relax, as much as one could when they were leading a resistance against a goliath like the Triumvirate.

But relaxation was important.

Tonight begged time for reflection. He needed time to think; consider what had been shared and said by Isaiah. A tale which…had challenged, troubled, and invigorated him all at once. There remained so many unknown questions, and settled some long-standing questions debated by religions across the ages.

What was this Traveler? He could not say. A bringer of apocalypse?

Perhaps?

Or something else? A gift? An offer? Wholly unconnected entirely?

Also possible.

What had swayed him to leaning towards giving this entity a chance was not necessarily because he trusted it, not because of the vision it had given, but because of how it had affected Isaiah. He had known the man for years now, and out of all of them he was the toughest. A man who had been broken and hardened by a world that had taken everything.

A man who only believed in his mission, and for whom hope was less valuable than determination. Where mercy and forgiveness were for the weak, and where the unknown was not to be trusted.

The same man who had now asked that they consider taking a chance with an alien with unmatched power. Hamaza had never expected to see Isaiah undergo a spiritual awakening, but he had seen enough of them to know that was, in essence, what had happened. It was a wonderful thing to see a man develop faith, especially if he had been without it for so long.

A life without faith was a tasteless thing, he knew that well.

He imagined that Isaiah was similarly uncertain how to handle his new feelings, but he most certainly had wondered the same thing. Perhaps he would deny it, but Isaiah was not one to shy away from the truth, no matter how uncomfortable. Though what he would take away from it, and if it would change him further, that had yet to be determined.

"I wonder now," Father Ryan Mills said from the chair seated beside his own. "What this entity actually is."

"The question on all of our minds," Hamaza answered. "Though I am now more unsure. I had wondered if it was a herald for something, but now…I am unsure. It is an odd feeling; to know that there is life…" he waved a hand vaguely. "Elsewhere."

"Yes," Ryan took a sip from his glass of water. "And here we thought we were special; made in the image of God. I suppose that we may not have been the only life – or even the first. It is still troubling, nonetheless." He shook his head. "People have questions, and there are few answers."

"Indeed." A pause. "This alien will be viewed as god though."

"It already is," Ryan smiled faintly. "With another crowd screaming about how it is the bringer of the apocalypse."

"In a way, it might be," Hamaza said thoughtfully. "Though an apocalypse upon the Triumvirate. Divine retribution would be a fitting conclusion."

"Assuming it ends up helping us," Ryan snorted. "Giving the Triumvirate a 'chance'. No further proof that this is a fallible creature than that. Almost a relief."

"We shall see. No doubt this is giving the Triumvirate significant cause for concern."

"They are wily individuals. Intelligent in their cooption and subversion. We both know this. I do not blame the others for voting against it, even though I believe this was the right decision."

"Mmm," Hamaza laced his fingers together. "Time will tell if Isaiah's faith is well-placed."

"Isaiah and faith," Ryan commented. "Two words I never thought would go together. Curious, isn't it?"

"In a way, yes," Hamaza agreed. "But every man can be spoken to, even if some are more difficult than others. This has certainly not been the first time a powerful vision has been enough to change or soften the heart of a man – much less make them consider things previously not entertained."

"Very true."

An idea came to him, one treacherous and requiring consideration. One that needed delving deep into text and theology. For who brings visions, if not bringers of divine will.

Hamaza's hands drifted to Quran within his breast pocket. The idea made an old, old desire reawaken. A desire that once belonged to an impoverished boy, spending nights in mosques and libraries.

Both men sat silent for a few minutes before Hamaza spoke. "I suppose we can do little more now than wait, and have faith of our own that we have made the right decision."


MOSCOW | RUSSIA | SOVIET UNION

After the past few days, which had largely consisted of a whole lot of meetings, committees, and bureaucracy, Valentin was already ready for a brief break from the sheer complexity of what he was now involved in. He'd never appreciated just how convoluted government was, and to him it seemed a bit…overcomplicated.

For every single little aspect, there was a sub-committee for the larger established committee, and dedicated committees for certain specific concepts and projects, with sub-sub-committees for each little aspect. This was, or so it was claimed, a superior means of organization where every single part was assigned and planned.

Improved accountability, so they said.

For him it was a swirling mess of names, titles, positions, and he had already begun relying on Vigil to serve as his unofficial assistant to keep everything straight while he hurriedly tried to memorize the names, positions, and purposes of the numerous sub-committees. There was a massive stack of files compiled by the KGB on everyone involved in them for him to review, which he was slowly making progress through.

It was enough to almost make him want to ask to reduce the workload a bit – but no, this was what he'd signed on for, and he needed to make sure it was done to the best of his ability. Thus far it seemed like Clovis was being true to his word about letting him have significant input. He'd already removed a few people he felt would be too hard-line, or had problematic history. Like, there didn't need to be a former KGB officer involved in the Subcommittee on Paracausal Research – not when there were plenty of actual scientists to do that job.

He was, admittedly, still a bit paranoid that one day he wasn't going to wake up at all. In theory, he had significant input onto everything, but he was still wary of pushing things too far. Granted…he did have the Traveler on his side. It would take him a bit to get used to that, though that protection only extended so far.

Much as he believed the Triumvirate wouldn't stand a chance against the Traveler, he didn't exactly want to be a casualty of it.

Moscow was bustling today, as it usually was around this hour. Vigil was cloaked, since his KGB 'escort' (One they'd assigned to act as his official liaison between the government and himself, and also as his unofficial observer no doubt) had recommended that the Ghosts not be seen in public unless he wished to draw a crowd.

The Soviet Union really, really wanted everything official regarding the Traveler to go through proper channels, which he could understand. He'd observed with some amusement some of the people who'd returned now having to deal with stalkers, crowds, and other unpleasant side effects of fame, and fame…wasn't something he was interested in.

Is it always so busy here?

Even if Vigil wasn't physically present, it was still capable of direct mental contact, and something they'd started doing regularly only days ago. It was less weird than he'd thought it would be, and even if it had taken a while to get used to it, both of them had adapted quickly, and it was extremely useful during meetings where Vigil would helpfully remind him of who someone was, and he could answer without seeming like a fool.

He'd come to rely on the Ghost quite a lot in a short period of time. It was…rather liberating to be able to hold entire conversations in his head, with no possibility of someone else listening in.

In theory, at least.

Yes. Moscow is the capital. Never a dull moment.

How often have you come here?

Before all of this? Once. It was…always some place where everyone wanted to go, and for us it was more of a vacation. Never thought I'd be living here, much less in the Kremlin itself.

Better or worse than you'd expected?

Better, honestly. Difficult to give a bad review to a luxury bedroom.

Potentially to spy on you.

It's the seat of power in the Soviet Union. Literally every room and government building is bugged. State security; it's not a big deal.

It was far from the first time that the Ghost had expressed a discomfort with the level of surveillance, almost like it was an oddly foreign concept. Valentin found it almost amusing, though he wondered why the Ghost was so averse to the idea – which was a bit rich coming from a machine which had spied upon all of them before making contact.

Your species seems not to trust one another.

He shrugged physically, a habit he had when mentally speaking. It didn't usually stop him from doing the physical actions – and he'd noted he had a tendency to make facial expressions too. He wondered if anyone had noticed that. It's not quite that simple. The Triumvirate does deal with terrorists who blend in with ordinary people, and if someone is in a place they shouldn't be, that should be known.

It seems too easy to abuse.

Anything can be abused. What is the alternative? He shrugged again. I don't really trust the KGB, but the inherent idea is not a bad one, and again, in certain places it makes sense.

You are fine with being spied upon?

It depends. I don't really have anything to hide. If I can trust the people in charge, I don't especially care. If not…there isn't much I can do. If it's for a good purpose, like fighting terrorism, then some sacrifices have to be made. It will be the same when we prepare for the Darkness. Not everyone will be on the same side, and it seems that they are capable of employing subterfuge of their own.

I can understand to some extent, but I do not fully understand your apathy, especially with the KGB. They are watching you even now.

Of course they are. You expect them not to?

He could almost hear the mental sigh of the Ghost. Ah well, much as he didn't exactly like being monitored by the KGB, he could definitely understand why. It wasn't completely unreasonable to happen.

I think I should give Liana a call. I want to know how she's doing. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. It occurred to him that she might not even have her phone, or even the same number, or even was available to talk. Fang had actually reached out and given him an update of his own.

It was very promising. It seemed the Chinese were taking the Traveler's warning seriously as well.

Maybe, just maybe, things would turn out alright.

You don't need to use that.

That phone?

I can synchronize with her Ghost. You can communicate through us.

Valentin blinked. You can do that?

Yes. It should preferably be done in an isolated location, since it will need to be physically present for the communication to take place. No chance of anyone else listening either.

Valentin looked around. That may be a bit difficult.

One moment.

Before he knew what was happening, Valentin found himself surrounded in a flash of light, and the world briefly contracted, and then expanded until he found himself in a completely different area. It was a large grassland, one which stretched in all directions, with mountains in the background.

He had absolutely no idea where he was.

Vigil materialized in front of him in a flash of blue. He stared accusatory at the Ghost. "[Very funny.]"

The Ghost bobbed, and twisted its fins at an angle. "[You did imply you wanted privacy.]"

Valentin sighed. "[Well, we're here. If she's available, I'd like to talk to her.]"

"[I am communicating with her Ghost now, it should not be long.]"

A few minutes passed, and the Ghost stiffened in the air, and the color of its eye turned a solid green, and fluctuated as Liana's voice came through. "Valentin?"

"Liana! So this does work."

"Yeah, it seems so. Didn't know they could do that."

"Seems like they can do a lot of things. Something new every day."

"Tell me about it," she laughed. "Silly as it is to say, I'm glad to know you're still alive. Didn't get any updates from you for a few days."

"Still alive, and so are you it sounds like." He answered. "How have you been?"

"Never been busier," she said. "I'm in a bit of limbo. Space Force isn't quite sure what to do with me. I gave my own report, feel like they were ready to throw me into the asylum, but they seemed to take it pretty seriously. I've mostly been working with Admiral Holliday. It's pretty incredible."

He was relieved to hear that. "They seem receptive to what you said?"

"Seems to be. I'm told the President herself was listening in on my debrief. No concrete actions or decisions, but Holliday said that there's probably going to be some kind of Triumvirate-wide unveiling and overall path being announced soon. What about on your end?"

"I met Clovis Bray."

There was a pause of silence on the other end. "General Secretary Clovis Bray? The one leading the Soviet Union?"

"The very same,"

"Shit. How was that?"

"I can see why everyone likes him. Very charismatic man."

"I bet. So…it went well then?"

"Better than I expected. Maybe I gave Clovis too little credit. He seems to be willing to make some adjustments. He's put me on so many committees and brought me on so many projects its difficult to keep up. Seems like the Central Committee is taking it seriously too. From talking to Fang, so are the Chinese."

"Guess an alien appearing out of nowhere makes everyone reconsider some things. I was almost afraid they were going to reject everything, or do something stupid."

"Guess they prefer living."

A laugh. "I guess so."

He waited a few seconds. "Are you sleeping better?"

"A bit better. Dreams aren't completely gone, but I'm…managing. Got a therapist I'm talking to now, it's a bit odd since this isn't the typical mental trauma, but she seems good."

"I'm glad to hear that," he said, relieved that she hadn't relapsed or something. "Do the Americans also have you locked up and away from the press?"

A brief chuckle. "More or less. Under strict orders to not speak about anything until an official release. Which is fine with me. Not really keen on speaking to the media."

"Same here," he said with a nod. "I doubt they'll share the details."

"Probably not." He could hear something in the background. "Got a few people looking my way. Gotta go now, it was good to talk. Since the Ghosts can do this, we should do it a bit more often. Maybe ask if they can do conference calls too, and bring Fang in. Maybe those other two as well…" She trailed off. "Speaking of which, I've not seen…what's his name? The CIA guy?"

"Oh?" Valentin cocked his head. "Well, the CIA might be doing their own thing."

Though he wondered. There had always been something off about the man, though at the time he'd pushed it aside given what they had all experienced together. The Traveler knew what She was doing...though he had to admit he was now curious.

"Maybe. It's a bit strange though. I should ask about him. Or ask my Ghost."

"Probably wouldn't be a bad idea," he agreed. "Good luck. We'll talk again soon."

"You too, Valentin."

The 'call' ended, and the light of the Ghost's eye returned to its regular blue. "[In answer to your question,]" Vigil said. "[We can have calls with multiple participants.]"

"[We'll have to do that sometime,]" he agreed, looking around the area. "[However, you should probably take me back. Otherwise the KGB might think you've kidnapped me.]"

He heard an electronic rasp as the golden flash appeared again, and took him back home.


THE PENTAGON | WASHINGTON D.C. | CONFEDERATION OF AMERICAN STATES

Something about this particular scenario had made him think of myths. Particularly ones of the Greek and Roman variety, but the more Clovis Bray thought of it, the more he realized that there were some overlapping themes throughout most mythology. Gods who were all-powerful, but flawed and fallible. Mortals who were chosen and uplifted by the gods, and others who sought to bring them down.

He could not help but draw some comparisons to the particular situation they all found themselves in. An entity of god-like power, who had designated some individuals as voices and heralds; levers of control. Priests and speakers in a way; those who would speak for the divine, and give instruction according to her demands.

And what was he in such a hierarchy?

Unfortunately, individuals who challenged or trick the gods in mythology tended to fail quite spectacularly, at least if they were mortal. There were, of course, a few options. Opposition to the Traveler was not desirable, if one respected their life. However, there was something that Clovis could not reconcile, and that is life under an entity with such power.

Many might be willing to live under a god, but Clovis Bray assuredly was not.

No gods. No kings. No masters.

Only men. Men alone held the right to be the determiners of their future.

The Triumvirate was, and had been the future of Humanity, and it would not be reshaped into something it was not by sheer bad luck. In a way, Clovis mused, this might be for the best. With such an entity now in play, the petty squabbles and infighting that had plagued the Triumvirate had been forgotten as they saw the threatening change on the horizon.

How quickly circumstances could change, all by the whimsy of fickle chance.

There were only two ways this would end. They would succeed, or they would die. The stakes were not merely the future of Humanity, but his own personal life, and everything he had built during it. Yet if the consequences of apathy were to see the world reshaped by the decree of an alien whose mandate solely came through power?

Then he would rather die than be a slave.

Of course, he was not foolish enough to believe he was even close to the equal of this entity – for now. There was arrogance, and there was stupidity. An arrogant man believed he could outwit a god; a stupid man believed he could challenge a god; a weak man would conform to the will of a god.

What ill begotten ape, what malformed and misbegotten creature would kneel before the throne of a god, when he could make his own? Not Clovis.

Clovis was many things, but stupid and weak he was not. Arrogant? He was most assuredly arrogant, for ambitious men were arrogant. Arrogance drove them to pursue goals and dreams that others would dismiss out of hand. How many had told him that the most he would amount to was a glorified CEO? That the idea of a non-Russian General Secretary was laughable? That the best he could hope for was a seat on an obscure committee?

Oh, there was certainly reason for their concerns. Yet he had not cared. It did not matter what the norms and expectations were; such simply did not apply to him. Now he sat as the man whose decisions shaped the world; the man whose legacy would be the one who led Humanity to the stars.

No, arrogance was not a flaw; not if one knew how to use it.

Arrogance was the ability to think beyond what was possible. It was to look at the impossible and sneer. It was to see the insurmountable mountain and climb it. It was to surpass the expectations of conformity.

Yes, Clovis Bray was most assuredly arrogant.

But so was the Traveler.

After all, one must assuredly be arrogant to warp the so-called law of reality. One must be arrogant to see the natural form of a planet, and remake it in their image. One must be arrogant to present themselves as the only hope, in the face of overwhelming Darkness.

One must be arrogant to think themselves undefeatable by the ants. To forget and be blinded to the simplest of truths, it was never the ant that kills. It was its poisoned mandibles.

And that, in his mind, was the most admirable thing about the alien. The arrogance to think oneself immune to venom.

A worthy rival, one he would enjoy matching wits against.

Tonight would be the start of the grand conspiracy – provided he would be successful in swaying his colleagues.

Many seemed primed to give up.

A reminder was necessary. A signal he had sent to each of them directly.

It was a signal that had never been used to his knowledge, at least not in his current incarnation. One which would summon every single Triumvirate head of state into a small, unmarked room in the Pentagon, deep below the surface. No security, no warning, only a single meeting in the dead of night.

No one would know he was coming outside his peers.

Oh, the Ghosts may be watching him, but he was prepared for that. Contingencies were to become the lifeblood of the future, and if there happened to be a spy, he would know. There were guards here, of course, always on station if this was needed. Today it was. He merely had to show his cipher, and he was through.

The others were here, all of them in plainclothes. Gopal's hands were wrung tightly together; Li looked defeated, as if he had heard very bad news; Quinn was grim, but also visibly defiant – and Clovis noted that there was a pistol strapped to her waist. The room was bare, only lit by a single light hanging from the ceiling.

Defeated before the battle was fought, a state of mind more dangerous than the battle itself.

A simple metal table was in the center, with equally unceremonious chairs. A far cry from the tasteful ornateness of the Chamber of the Triumvirate. Luxury was an indulgence, however, and it could certainly be lived without. Without a word, he took a seat and faced his colleagues.

Gopal spoke first, his words heavy. "It is over, is it not?"

Li's lips pursed. "I fear it is the case."

"I am not one to be submissive in the face of challenge," Quinn said grimly. "But there is a difference between cowardice and stupidity. We simply do not stand a chance against this alien. Pretending otherwise is foolish."

Unfortunately predictable. Certainly justifiable – indeed, he would have been more concerned if they were gung-ho in their defiance. Such would very quickly be the end of them all. But the Triumvirate did not elevate and reward fools, it nurtured realists. None of his colleagues were arrogant enough to believe they had another path. No doubt they believed they could retain their power; their lives; and bend their values and goals when necessary. Perhaps they thought they could live like that.

They would bend, and bend, until they became putty, until their power was diminished, or they brought down the things which they had built, as had their predecessors. Fear; that was the driving force. Fear and hopelessness. After all, who could face a god like the Traveler and succeed?

Madness.

Foolish.

Suicidal.

Arrogant.

Or so most would claim. Why even consider an alternative?

Because they were not animals. They were not cave apes, bowing before totems. They were the ants, born to claw their way to greatness. To topple the thrones of the gods and take their fire.

However, he was not most people.

He was the ant monarch, and all he needed was his venom and his royal court.

The comparison made him smile in amusement.

Clovis was silent for a few moments, and his finger tapped on the table. "Is that it?"

Gopal snorted. "Clovis, I do not know if you have noticed, but we have seen this alien instantly send most of the Ares One forces back here from Mars, as well as transport Ares One to Mars. During this entire incident this alien has been in complete control. You are not one to deny reality, General Secretary. You cannot possibly see an alternative."

"This alien appears to not want conflict," President Li added. "Challenging it would be more than futile – it would kill millions and amount to naught. We would lose everything. If its…suggestions are taken into account, there is a chance of retaining the Triumvirate in some form."

Clovis reached into his pocket, and pulled out the scanner, and set it on the table with a loud clack. Quinn cocked her head, a question in her voice. "Are we supposed to know what this is?"

"Consider it the first piece of evidence that you are wrong," Clovis said coolly, a smile on his face. "The first official product of the Soviet Paracausal Studies wing, under the Committee of Science and Advancement. In short, this is the Paracausal Scanner. Layman's terms, of course. It is a scanner, which is rather adept at picking up certain irregular distortions upon this three-dimensional plane we inhabit. It is made up of six major components, each developed independently."

He leaned back. "Now, only a few knew the full details of this little project. The full picture, at least; the smaller groups knew they were making a component for the committee in question, but little else. And voila, it was assembled under the watchful instruction of our great Soviet scientists. Valentin in particular was quite pleased, and this scanner will be instrumental in helping us research paracausality more effectively."

He reached over and picked it up. "However, it contains a certain capability that is quite useful. In short, it can detect Ghosts." He smiled. "Currently, there are no Ghosts hovering around, spying on our little conversation – and the moment one appears…well, such a distortion would appear." He lifted the scanner. "And this would pick it up."

He carefully observed the reactions, as the implications dawned upon them. "How did you manage to achieve this?" Gopal asked carefully. "Such a capability would arise suspicion."

"Compartmentalization, and a working knowledge of sensors," Clovis bowed his head in mock modesty. "There is now a significant amount of data on Ghosts now, as they have so helpfully allowed themselves to be scanned – for harmless purposes, of course. The data itself is directly available, and largely useless. On paper, it is not being applied to anything. However, I was able to ensure that the pieces being assembled were able to achieve this desired result."

He put the scanner back into his pocket. "It is easy to hide a certain capability when no one knows what is being made. The result? A means to determine if and when the Traveler is spying on us. A capability the Traveler does not, currently, know I possess. Valentin was very pleased, and why should he not be? Everything was done with his approval – and by extension, the Traveler's as well."

Clovis laced his fingers together. "Each of you have already fallen to the ploy of this alien. You have already given up; seen what it can do, and decided that it is the end. That, simply put, is exactly what this alien is counting on. That we wholesale submit to its new order without question."

"You have seen what it can do!" Gopal insisted. "This is no irrational fear!"

"Irrational? No, but it is fear," Clovis retorted, focusing on him. "You believe that this alien is more powerful than us – it assuredly is. But you've conflated power with intellect. This alien? It is no more or less conniving, manipulative, and intelligent than we are. It is arrogant; arrogant enough to bend a species to its ideal version of 'peace'. It is arrogant enough to believe we will see its power, and bend our knee. It is arrogant enough to believe that fear will keep us in line."

And arrogant enough to not see the ants.

He shook his head. "We cannot fight this alien on even ground – but it can be outsmarted. Outwitted."

Li briefly closed his eyes. "You speak of arrogance of the alien, but your words are equally as arrogant, General Secretary."

Clovis smiled. "They are. I make no secret of it. One must possess a certain amount of arrogance to dare see an entity like the Traveler, and refuse to submit. I know one thing is certain – if we capitulate wholesale to the demands of the alien, we shall see the Triumvirate become unrecognizable. Let us not forget the alien spoke with a terrorist, and is presumably still in contact. This alien is not our ally."

"Let us briefly entertain this idea," Quinn lifted a hand. "You brought us all here. You have a plan."

"I do," he said with a nod. "One which will end with the Triumvirate ascendant, or all of our deaths – and it needs every single one of you on board." He motioned to the door behind him. "After we meet, after walking out this door, each one of you could go to one of the Ghosts. You can share it. You would likely be rewarded heavily. I, nor any of us, could stop you. But if we want to ensure that the Triumvirate – and our species – is not coopted by an alien to fight in a conflict we have no stake in, this is our one and only shot."

But you won't, Clovis knew. Not in the face of a god. Not when it galls you to be looked down upon.

A heavy silence descended upon the small group. His peers looked to each other; no longer looking quite as resigned, but certainly skeptical. Excellent. Skeptics he could persuade, the hopeless were more difficult. Quinn spoke first. "Elaborate."

"Simple," he said with a nod. "It is clear that it is this Light which is the source of power for the Traveler. More broadly, paracausality. That is the key to everything. The more we understand paracausality, the more the mystique of the Traveler is stripped away. Even now, there are rules and capabilities to understand – and when we do, the keys to be independent of this being are in our hands."

He paused. "Of course, our motives cannot be so blatant. Fortunately, we already have a very good justification for paracausal research. This 'Darkness' that poses such an existential threat is certainly paracausal, and what better way to prepare than understand such a phenomenon?"

"Which could be…repurposed…" Li said thoughtfully.

"Certainly, though everything must be done with the highest degree of delicacy," Clovis pointed out. "Something I cannot stress enough. Everything must be compartmentalized and layered. The truth, as it is, can only be something only a few know. The full picture is large, and the details minute – but one mistake and we will be exposed. We will fail. And we will die. The room for error is not minimal – it is nonexistent."

And we will win.

He spread his hands. "But what I propose – it can be done. It will take time. It will be the greatest challenge of our lives, perhaps in Human history. We will smile, and pretend, and nod. We will make the Traveler think she has won; we will make her people think the same. Every decision we make will be made in the context of parameters she would find acceptable. But the endgame…the endgame is only for us to know. If we succeed? We will ascend to the stars, prepared for this Darkness, and any other threat against us, as the people who brought down a god."

And mankind will be known as god-killers.

Bringing his hands back down, he similarly lowered his voice. "I know what I am proposing. I know we may fail, and that we easily could die. But I have decided that I will not live as a puppet to this alien, who will seek to change us to her liking. I will not see the work of my predecessors and previous generations destroyed because of idealists and fools who view us with simple minds. I will not give in so easily."

Because nothing has changed, the game is the same. The rules edited, the tables flipped. But we've long since mastered this game. All three of us.

He took a breath. "The time to choose is now. Which side are you on?"

Quinn and Li exchanged a look. "I admit, the points raised were ones I had not considered," Li said slowly. "It is sheer arrogance…but there may be little choice. I will not see the Empire become something it is not. The people need direction, not freedom. The Traveler promises anarchy, and showcases a misunderstanding of our species. Very well, I will support this endeavor."

"As will I," Quinn nodded. "I do not trust the alien's motives, and am equally concerned about the influence it will have on our species. We are not autonomous under it, and too many fail to see that. It will one day take control, regardless of what it promises now."

Gopal was the only one who had yet to speak. Long seconds passed, before he shook his head. "I can admire your fortitude, General Secretary. Your…ambition. But there is a line between arrogance and delusion, and I fear you have passed it. I have a nation to attend to in this difficult time; I cannot afford to risk my life in doomed plots against an entity like this. I will not betray you, but do not count on my support, nor that of the Republic."

All three of us.

"We should not give up so quickly," Quinn insisted. "We-"

"No!" Gopal lifted a hand sharply. "I will not let myself be persuaded into acting against the best interests of myself and my nation. I've made my decision. I wish you well in your plot, but I cannot be a part of this." With an abrupt motion, he stood, and quickly left the room.

Quinn and Li looked at Clovis, concern written on their faces. "He will expose us," Quinn said grimly. "Intentionally or not, he is the weak link. He always has been."

"Certainly," Clovis leaned back, and unexpectedly smiled. "However, this is for the best."

Li's eyes narrowed. "Explain."

"Come now, did you think I would just let him walk away and doom us to eternal servitude to the alien?" Clovis shook his head, and briefly chuckled. "I knew both of you I could rely on. Gopal? He is not reliable. A coward, and a man too afraid to dream beyond the possible. It matters little. Do not concern yourselves with him."

Quinn frowned, picking up on the clear insinuation. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"Have faith, Madam President," Clovis said, flashing his trademark charming smile. "I assure you, this is not my first time."

He rested his hands on the table. "Now, let us discuss our plot to bring down a god."

We are the ants, born to take the fire.


TRIUMVIRATE INTELLIGENCE COMMAND | TAMPA | CONFEDERATION OF AMERICAN STATES

Irrespective of the plots that were no doubt taking place, Fox had to admit that many of the proposals and plans being moved into place were not only promising, they were revolutionary in a way that history had not experienced since the Industrial Revolution and World War II.

It was almost as if every project was the Manhattan Project.

Of course, there were no direct weapon proposals, but he was more than capable of reading between the lines. He was no scientist or engineer, and the details and formulas were not especially useful – but for the fact that there were many, many reputable scientists explaining it that even a laymen like him could understand.

Space travel. Limitless energy. Formulas that broke rules as they currently existed. It was difficult to truly grasp the scope of what was plausible. It was exciting, and slightly terrifying just how much was already proven to be possible. The Triumvirate would leapfrog beyond any remaining independent nation on Earth in mere months once the industrial machine began moving.

Fossil fuels would become obsolete. Energy costs would become irrelevant. Genetic engineering would become commonplace. No longer would wars be fought with crude ballistic weapons, but miniaturized railguns and energy weapons. It truly seemed like the only limits would be the imagination of the people working on the projects.

Already there were many promising ones. Many in the theoretical stages, but every project started somewhere. Most interesting were the studies around paracausality. Every Triumvirate nation was developing some version of a paracausal study group – some larger than others. The Soviet Union has close to four thousand dedicated personnel – unsurprising that would capture Clovis's attention.

He wondered as to his motivations.

One of the larger joint initiatives was the creation of an interstellar fleet. No warships as of yet, these were primarily transportation – specifically for use between Earth and Mars, which the Triumvirate was looking to fully develop as a dedicated research planet. Several dozen major satellite installations studying various advanced subjects and projects were located, with Bray Incorporated awarded the largest installation.

BrayTech specifically had been awarded the space, which meant that they were being given the Triumvirate's joint artificial intelligence project – something which looked particularly promising. Some of the greatest minds in computer science and AI were placed upon it, including Bray's daughter, interestingly enough.

Well, his other daughter.

He was quite interested in seeing if that project bore fruit. It could revolutionize intelligence work as he knew it - if the quantum projects didn't do it first. Exciting times, even as exhausting as it was to keep up with every new development. He was waiting for something to happen…but nothing was.

The Triumvirate heads were preparing to make a joint statement regarding the Traveler in mere days, and how that would go would be telling. Right now the Triumvirate was focused on neutral things like research and technology. They would almost certainly be able to do that without controversy – when it came to outside the Triumvirate?

More difficult.

He was acutely aware that such developments would not extend to Canada, the UK, Israel, or Africa as a whole – not unless the Traveler insisted. That would be a very interesting test – if that path was taken.

Well, whatever was coming, the Traveler was elsewhere. She appeared to be done with Mars, and had moved to Jupiter, and was terraforming several of the moons there. An odd choice in his opinion, but he imagined there was some kind of reason for it. Mining worlds, perhaps. If the intent was to build up a fleet or army, raw materials would be necessary.

"Engrossing reading?"

The Ghost was back again. It liked to pop up at unpredictable intervals, sometimes ask questions, sometimes have a rather normal conversation. It had earned its own designation. On paper he had designated it as Watcher-7, as the seventh unique Ghost which had been reported. It most certainly wasn't the seventh Ghost that had been spotted, but it was the seventh one to appear distinct from others.

The Ghost had accepted the designation quite easily. It made him wonder how the machines were programmed, or if they even had traditional designations. Perhaps it was a self-determined code. There was certainly something off about the Ghosts that few were commenting on. Already he had noticed that it was…easy to talk to.

Like a friend.

That kind of personability was not natural. This was an exceptionally adaptable intelligence, and he didn't quite know why it was designed that way. This was certainly not an accident. Was it to make the Traveler more appealing? That more would trust it? It wasn't overly different from cozying up to a source to make them more likely to share information.

It made him feel better, in a way. This was a standard manipulation tactic, which meant the Traveler understood Humans enough to know what would work. Even though he was aware of it, he still couldn't shoo away the little indoctrination bot. Besides, he preferred having a connection directly to the Traveler, no matter how isolated.

"Very engrossing," he said, addressing the Ghost's question. "What your Traveler has shared will be nothing short of revolutionary."

The Ghost hovered to move around his shoulder, and presumably read some of the document opened on his screen. "Implants?"

"The Transcendence Project," Fox elaborated. He knew that he likely wasn't supposed to be sharing classified information like this with a Ghost, but frankly, if the machine wanted to know, it was going to be able to find out, one way or the other. "The Triumvirate's overarching umbrella concerning all modification; from augmented reality, cognitive implants, neural modifications, and theoretically even consciousness transfer."

"Ah," the silver fins of the Ghost whirred. "A radical proposal, the latter goal. Such your scientists consider possible?"

"In theory, yes," Fox nodded. "Interestingly enough, the theory suggests that it would be more feasible to perform such a procedure onto a digital medium as opposed to an organic copy. Not the final iteration, certainly, but that is the direction they are planning to pursue. Exoskeletons as opposed to clones."

"And these will not be soldiers?"

"Realistically?" Fox raised his eyebrow. "There would almost certainly be military applications. I don't imagine the majority of people would be willing to give up their bodies, but there would be enough volunteers to make such an endeavor feasible. One can make a far more dangerous soldier without the constraints of biology."

"Yours is an odd species," Watcher-7 remarked. "Your tendency for radical solutions is unusual. Most would take such a procedure, and apply it to clones or other biological bodies. Or they would create autonomous soldiers. You would seek to place organic minds in shells – and many would volunteer of their own free will."

"'A tendency for radical solutions,'" Fox repeated with a snort. "I have to remember that one. Welcome to Earth."

Watcher-7 emitted an electronic raspberry in response.

Fox smirked, and finished his reading of the document before closing it. Another day done, and his wife awaited. A few clicks to shut things down, a final check to make sure nothing had popped up, and-

The phone rang.

Fox briefly closed his eyes. No one would be calling him this late in the day unless it was going to require his complete and undivided attention. He was going to have to let his wife know he was going to be late tonight. Again.

Hitting the answer button with more force than necessary, he wasn't able to suppress all of the irritation in his voice. "Director Fox. What is it?"

"There's been bombings in New Delhi," came the answer; Brask's voice, and it sounded in a mix between shocked and urgent. "The Taj Mahal. The Lok Sabha. And…the Prime Minister's Office."

Fox went cold at the last one. "The President…"

"No confirmation, but he is presumed dead." A pause. "The explosion was set off right as he was entering the building."

Fox blinked. "How…?"

"A fucking good question," Brask said grimly. "No official statement given by anyone, and the Military has locked down the entire city. There's already been reports of mass arrests. Mobs are forming. Its growing exceptionally ugly very fast."

President Gopal dead. If this was true…this was the greatest terrorist action in…decades. It was impossible to determine what the ramifications were, but this shifted the calculus for a lot of things. He quickly flipped on the television in his office, and was greeted with far-distance footage of the named buildings, smoke and fire raising from the impact point, and dozens of Indian soldiers.

The anchors were speaking in similarly shocked tones, and he was only picking up bits and pieces, zoned out as he was for trying to determine the ramifications. An attack of this scale should not have been possible. Sure, if it was going to happen anywhere, it would be India where they'd have that kind of lapse, but it was shocking to consider how that could have been pulled off.

His mind immediately jumped to that unknown terrorist who had been associating with Milya. Both chosen by the Traveler, one of whom connected to a terrorist organization – and one from India, which happened to be targeted. He definitely wasn't going to be going home for a while now.

"Set up a continuous feed to me," he instructed, as he prepared to get the sorry excuse for an Indian intelligence director on the line. "Keep me updated; initiate and immediate wartime rotational shift."

"Yes, Director."

The line ended, and he spared a brief glance to the Ghost. "I certainly hope the Traveler had nothing to do with this."

"She did not."

"Might want to mention that to whatever drone is with that terrorist," he shot back, focused now on trying to figure out how this could have happened. "Now go. I need to get to work."


TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER IX | THREAT