Petroleum Effect

Interlude II – The Weight of a Crown

The Temple Ship, Sol, Local Cluster, 25 June 2183

Demilady Amaoth sat alone in the throne room. Her throne was large and ornate, but not as vast nor glorious as the empty Throne of the Archlord behind it. The sheer size of the chamber weighed upon her as she read the reports drafted by Miranda Lawson, Shepard and their subordinates. The situation was dire and for all her power, she felt too small for it.

The Citadel Council races were under attack by Eviloids, against whose infiltration they had little defence save for the double-edged sword that the Citadel itself - an obvious Transcendent artefact - was actively hostile to the Eviloids … because they challenged its own, more subtle mind control.

The Eviloids apparently wanted the galaxy enslaved to unknown advanced aliens and the Citadel was the implement of a different race of unknown advanced aliens which probably did regular galactic genocides. The most recent of which was overdue. Both were imminent existential threats. The Eviloids could potentially unite the galaxy against humanity. The Citadel threat was capable of overwhelming entire previous galactic populations.

Reports of fighting between adherents of the Temple of the Golden Star and local governments of places they had infiltrated came from news networks galaxy wide. All too often, the news was favourable to the Temple.

Of course, humanity had not been idle. Since 2157 they had doubled the number of sword ships to twenty. They had 14 gate ships, 11 deployed and three in reserve. They had quadrupled the number of conventional element zero fleets, each the same size as before. The Terran Dominion had the Temple Ship, 20 sword ships, 32 conventional fleets each with a single dreadnaught, 10 cruisers and 20 frigates. That made a total of 32 eezo dreadnaughts, 320 cruisers and 640 frigates. The fleets were drilled separately and together in formations of different sizes.

The Council races lived in blissful ignorance of the Terran Dominion's advanced technologies and the sheer size of its fleet. The Terran Dominion had never officially signed the Treaty of Farixen just agreed to a vague document endorsing it in principle. Since the Council races were unaware of Earth's location or human holdings, which were deliberately off the mass relay network, they believed humanity to be a minor power.

The problem was that trivial projections showed humanity's military power, vast as it was when compared to the Turians, Asari or Salarians, was inconsequential when compared to the likely power of any truly advanced race that had had time to establish itself, including whatever was behind the galactic genocides.
Simply increasing the fleet size was not an option. There was a lack of full Transcendents to make a second Temple ship and none of the terraforming projects had yet come to fruition - that would take a long time indeed.

The Eviloids could not be allowed to take the galaxy as they were likely to be specifically hostile to the Terran Dominion.

All the evidence showed that humanity was not yet ready to fight a serious threat. The Council races did not count, other than comic relief. Which left Amaoth with very little choice. The best play for humanity would have to be to prevent the Eviloids taking over the Council races and keep them on-side or at least neutral.

The council races would need help to defeat the Temple of the Golden Star. Which meant that humanity would have to admit to at least being able to resist the mind control of the Eviloids.

The humans were going to actually have to help the council races.

Amaoth had deployed Grey Lady Miranda Lawson to go after Nihlus. She had sent Grey Lady Ravenna as the new ambassador to the Citadel, accompanied by several elite marines. Grey Lord Jack Harper and four others were being assigned to help stop the Eviloids taking over the Asari. Humanity only had 17 partial Transcendents, including Amaoth.

That also left another problem. Humanity needed Transcendent leadership. The Grey Lords were not fully Transcendent. They were augmented and had been using the First Transcendence. They could plug in and unplug at will just as the High Lords had done before the invention of the Second Transcendence – there was even an interface concealed in Amaoth's throne. It was not enough.

Amaoth could fly the Temple Ship. She could open portals up to 75 light-years away. It drained her – she could open a portal once a day. Perhaps she could do two, but only at the cost of complete exhaustion. The Archlord could use the ship to open portals up to 100 light-years away every minute or two.

There were whole floors of the gigantic Temple Ship, enormous laboratories and workshops, full of projects she could not understand, nor finish, nor control.

Amaoth could in theory undergo the Second Transcendence – full Transcendence. She could become a High Lord – Archlady even. She had mixed feelings about it. Archlord Lordak had warned her of the likelihood of becoming distant from her own humanity – of changing almost beyond recognition – he had warned her to live her human life to the full.

Amaoth had heeded the advice. As a partial Transcendent for over forty years, Amaoth had been eternally young, libidinous and wealthy. She had many partners and three children. Her children lived on Earth now – only one of them was still a child – the other two now adults. The Demilady of the Terran Dominion had lived a more-than-full human life and she did not want to stop.

The pressure to change was becoming overwhelming. The only reason she had not was her hope for the Archlord's return. When he went into seclusion in 2072, he had allowed her to wait eleven years at most. If he had not returned by then, he would not be returning. Now only days over six months remained.

Amaoth felt the sands of time running out in many ways, on many levels.

Unknown Location, Unknown Date, 2183

Vessel lived in the Sanctuary. He was a young man, nearly 21 years of age. He had always lived in the Sanctuary.

Vessel wanted for nothing. He had fine clothes and food, beautiful playmates. He had never known hunger. He was cared for at all times by the Acolytes of the Archlord, beautiful shapely young women for the most part.

As a child Vessel had played nearly all the time. He had been asked to do, or learn, very little. Mostly, it was exercise, sports – he had been asked to learn to read and write, to touch type and to use a mouse. He had been well rewarded for it. He had got very quick at typing. Vessel had done some combat training, but only very lightly.

As an adult, Vessel had been encouraged to exercise and rewarded for doing so. He had well-defined muscles and a six-pack. When he came of age, he had come to know some of the Acolytes physically too. They all seemed eager to please him.

A few things were forbidden to Vessel, to his frustration. He could not leave the Sanctuary. His home was mostly garden, little more than a mere 500 metres in diameter and bounded by walls of stone that had proven impossible to climb. He could run and play, but not roam nor explore. He had been gently but emphatically prevented from following the Acolytes when they left the Sanctuary through the few doors.
Vessel knew almost nothing of the world outside. The stories read to him were all of histories, kings and queens – sometimes wizards and witches or other mythical creatures. Things that happened long ago. Never yesterday, never now.

Vessel felt a certain sense of excitement and trepidation. He had always been told he had a special destiny to be revealed on his 21st Birthday. That was today.

Acolyte Lena was with Vessel as she led him to a door at the very edge of the Sanctuary. The 'Chapel of the Sacred Vessel' it was called. It was one of the few places that had always been forbidden to him. He liked Lena. Lena was one of Vessel's lovers. She was slightly taller than Vessel and had brown eyes, brown hair and a deeply tanned skin. Her body was muscular with large breasts, a thin waist and wide hips. Lena had spent a lot of time with him and last night she had been especially urgent. He was drained dry and sore by the time of his morning shower.

Inside, the chapel was not like anything Vessel had seen before. The room was gleaming white, with sterile metal work surfaces, cabinets with containers, strange looking metal tools on the sides and hanging down from the ceiling. There were many computer displays and a number of Acolytes dressed all in white.

"Lay down here," said Lena, an odd tone in her voice. Her expression was unfamiliar to Vessel – it seemed almost wary. Lena was indicating a piece of metal furniture covered in flat hard padding, or perhaps hard cushions. Vessel felt uneasy, "What's that?" he asked.

"Just lay down please," said another Acolyte, harshly. Vessel responded petulantly, "Why should I?"
Lena touched his shoulder, "Please. For me."

Vessel lay down. Lena and the Acolytes positioned him and as they did there was a metallic clack as thick metal bands wrapped his arms at the wrists and below the shoulders, his legs at the thighs and ankles, his neck, head and torso. Vessel was thoroughly immobilised. Sharp scalpels cut away his loose clothes, which were roughly pulled off, leaving him naked and shivering.

Vessel struggled but found himself very thoroughly restrained.

Not used to being thwarted, Vessel started shouting, but the Acolytes ignored him. The lights dimmed and a crystal sphere descended from the ceiling. The bed he was lying on tilted forward so he was nearer upright, looking at the sphere.

A face formed in the sphere, a man's face. It looked like Vessel's own face he had seen in the mirror, only older. Then there was a voice - it sounded like Vessel only somehow older and stronger and the weight of it silenced him.

"Hello Vessel. If you are watching this recording then today is a very special day. One I would have liked to see. Unfortunately, I did not make it that far, but perhaps if all goes well I will see tomorrow."

"I am the Archlord Lordak, or at least an echo of him, an intelligence, left to watch over this container. You are, well, you are an echo of me too."

"My name when I was your age was Simon Collins. It was only later I took the name of Lordak and the title of Archlord. You are, well, in some ways you are a copy of me."

"I Transcended my humanity, and I saved the world I was born in. By my art and power I lived far longer than a normal human span. I could perhaps have lived indefinitely – forever – if I had all the power at the beginning which I had at the end. That power and knowledge came too late though – by the time I had it my body was fading. My life was coming to an end."

"That is where you come in. A little under twenty-two years ago I made you. We took a cell from my skin and bathed it in chemicals until it was an embryo cell. Like a baby about to grow in a mummy's tummy. We fed it as it replicated and bathed it in more special substances so as it divided it separated into very healthy cells. Very long telomeres, all as good as new. Then we took the best and healthiest cell, and we took it out, and we bathed it back into an embryo."

The picture in the sphere changed until it showed a strange round thing. Vessel had never seen anything like it. The round thing began to divide into more of the same thing, packed together. Something long came in to view and pulled out one of the circular objects.

"We put that embryo into a very nice lady – a loyal Acolyte and a subject of the Terran Dominion. Nine months later, that is where you came from."

Vessel had never seen a pregnant woman, so to him the screen showed a very fat lady, then a baby coming out of her and being held in the arms of an Acolyte whilst the older version of himself looked on approvingly.

"I watched you being born, Vessel. I was there. I always take responsibility for my actions."

"You were never given a name of your own. You were intended never to be a person in your own right, but to be a vessel for me. That's why everyone called you Vessel. I have always intended to take your life for my own."

"Even so, I wanted you give you what life I could. You lived a happy childhood, unlike mine. You were always loved and almost never hurt. You were only compelled to do enough to make you healthy and give you certain muscle memories I wanted. I made sure you experienced the love of woman, many times. In historical times many men lived far shorter and less pleasant lives than you, Vessel."

"For this is your last day."

Vessel felt a sharp stab of fear, an unfamiliar emotion. He felt something very bad was about to happen. He could not speak, but just listened.

"I did not make it, quite, to your coming of age. I died in 2172, around about when you were ten years old. They preserved a lot of me though, including this echo and a map of every brain cell."

"In a little while, you will be put to sleep. Then they will open your head – take the top off - and put special little machines in, called nano-machines. The machines will reconnect every cell in your brain to each other in exactly the pattern my brain was in. Then, they will open this sphere which has nearly all my brain cells preserved and move each brain cell a piece at a time into the corresponding cell in your head. Every molecule will be fixed on the way, good as new, and will replace a corresponding molecule in your head. Your brain will become my brain only young and very healthy."

"My head had a lot of special, artificial brain cells. Every one of those is being spruced up and going into your head too. It will be reconnected in exactly the same way. Some of my power was stored in this sphere and that will be poured in too. Then the machines will close up your head and fix it."

"Only one of us will wake up and it will be me, or neither."

"I imagine there will be months of rehabilitation as my brain adjusts to the brain stem and the new body – we are keeping most of yours. We have to, even genetically identical bodies are never quite the same. Then if all goes well, I will be back. Forever."

"Goodbye Vessel. I will not speak to you again."

Vessel was terrified. His heart raced. He tried to turn to look at Lena, but his head could not move. "Lena!" he called.

The only answer was a short spike of pain, a prick in his neck, which soon withdrew. His heart slowed, his fear blunted and was replaced by weariness. As his consciousness ebbed and darkness took him, the last thing the young man heard was Lena's voice, "Goodbye Vessel."