ONE

 

 

          “The future you shall know when it has come; not before.” 

           Aeschylus

           Philosopher, Ancient Earth

 

 

           Samson walked out onto the balcony of his office, looking down on Uruk’s central plaza to the bustling of people and tigras going about their business.

          It had been five years since the defeat of the Coalition Empire. Five years since the remaining royals exiled themselves to the Union, the same Union that had fought against them in a century-long civil war. The same Union that now housed and clothed and fed them, refusing to accept Samson as the new ruler of the empire. Five years since the galaxy learned of the existence of the tigra.

          For five thousand years, they had wandered the grassy plains of Ararat as mindless beasts, their reason stolen from them by a sudden change in Ararat’s magnetic field. Then Samson and scientists from the mountain city of Pyros discovered a way to break the mind-link between his people, and the re-birth of his race had begun.

          We discovered the way, but not the means to pay for it, he thought. What a tragedy that would have been, to have the answer to my people’s awakening, only to be unable to see it through.

          But then, the carborillium was discovered. The most precious commodity in the galaxy, it was used to line the Drives responsible for faster than light travel. Nowhere else was it found in its native form. It had always been created in labs at great expense.

          With the money from the carborillium, they were able to purchase the thousands of satellites necessary to disrupt Ararat’s magnetic field, finally releasing the tigra from the disastrous mind-link that had enslaved his race for five millennia. Now, with the aid of the first nine tigras with whom he broken the mind-link, the re-education of his race had begun.

          It seemed like the beginning of a new age. The rebirth of a lost race. Then, ten years later, the Coalition Empire arrived.

          Granted Ararat in a peace treaty with the Union, they were determined to enslave Ararat’s population and rape the planet of its carborillium. With little hope of victory, but no other choice, Ararat fought back. Both tigras and humans battled and bled side by side until at last, the hated royals that ruled the empire were driven out and into the waiting arms of the Union.

          It was not for love of their old enemy that the Union gave succor and protection to the fleeing royals, but as a counterweight to Samson’s claims. As long as the old royal houses existed, they could refuse to accept the legitimacy of the new empire and its new emperor.

          For in Samson and his kind, they saw an enemy far more dangerous than the Coalition. They saw an alien sentient species, the first ever discovered in four hundred years of space exploration, and it terrified them. The fact that tigras were not primates, but tiger-like animals with five inch claws and retractable fangs, only added to the fear. To Samson, the leader of his people, they gave a special name: the Beast.

          The humans in the empire however, felt no such fear. In Samson and his race, they saw not an enemy, but a savior, one who had driven out the hated Coalition and freed their worlds from tyranny. In the violent uprisings on planets throughout the old empire, many had even taken up the name given to Samson by his own people: the Ma’chi. The Messiah.

          The expulsion of the royals was not without its own problems. Almost immediately the various worlds, now independent, began squabbling among themselves, refusing to form a government and leaving themselves open to Union expansionism. The military leaders of the insurrection faced a dilemma. The knowledge of carborillium on Ararat was now known to all. Like the Coalition, the Union would soon come for it—and the tigras.

          With little other choice, they elected to re-form the empire. When no human was found acceptable to all who could take the throne, they did the unthinkable. They crowned a reluctant Samson as emperor. One by one, the representatives of each world rose and knelt before him, pledging fealty to an alien ruler, His Majesty, Emperor Samson.

          Samson spent the first year of his reign trying to allay the Union’s fears, but all attempts at establishing normal diplomatic relations were rebuffed. Finally, after multiple skirmishes on both sides, he reluctantly ceased all travel between the Union and the Empire. Six months later, an armistice was signed and a demilitarized zone established, and the two governments were permanently separated.

          Samson sighed.

          Five years, he thought, as the sun began to rise over the buildings. Five years as emperor and it still seems like some ridiculous joke. The question is, is the joke on me or them? I sit on a throne I did nothing to earn, while humans come from all over the empire to bow before me. And me? I make proclamations like I know what the hell I’m doing. It’s a joke all right. And I’m the punchline.

          He looked out across the plaza at the temple of Ishtar, recently renamed by Jeena, the Pelon, the Temple of Light, in the old language. The holiest of holies, it was the chief temple of a religion that had spread out from Ararat to all the planets of the old empire.

          Temple of Light. Another joke.

          It had been days since he and Jeena had last seen each other, and their last visit together had ended in a fight. It seemed they were always fighting these days. Since giving up the office of Regent last year, she had spent more and more time in the temple, becoming almost entombed in the building. The only time she left was to go to the nearby hillside with Aramis. Samson saw the light flashes again last night.

          Looking away from the plaza, he turned in frustration back into the building.

          “Regent Selanja is here, Ma’chi,” Calli said.

          Since the death of her littermate and twin, Thalia, Calli had taken over as Samson’s personal assistant and chief of security.

          “Thank you, Calli. See her in.”

          “Your Majesty, it’s good to see you,” Selanja said, smiling as she entered.

          “Please, can we go back to Samson?” he said. “If I live to be a hundred, I’m never going to get used to, Your Majesty.”

          “Of course, Samson.”

          “Good. And thank you for coming.”

          “As Regent of Uruk, I’m always at your disposal.”

          “Practically at my feet,” Samson said, grinning. “I’m sure you can’t wait for us all to move into the new palace in a few months. You’ll finally be able to breathe.”

          “Actually, we’re going to miss you.”

          “The new city isn’t far. I’m sure we’ll be visiting each other frequently,” he said.

          He became serious. “Selanja, I assume you know why I asked you here.”

          She nodded, sighing. “Jeena.”

          “Yes. She’s getting worse. Day after day, I see her growing more detached, more broken. We’re losing her and I don’t know how to save her.”

          “I see it too. We all do. And we all feel just as helpless.”

          “Not everyone. Aramis doesn’t care. She feeds this… addiction,” Samson said bitterly.

          “Aramis loves her as well, but she sees Jeena as a goddess, someone beyond mortal. Like Jeena herself, she believes nothing can harm her.”

          “And that belief may kill her. You are her closest friend. Can you intervene?”

          “Samson, I’ve tried talking to her, so has Ghannon, but she can’t see the danger. And honestly, if you can’t get her to stop, no one can.”

          “I can’t count the number of fights we’ve had over this,” he said. “But nothing changes.”

          Selanja took a deep breath, looking at him sternly. “Maybe it’s time you gave her an ultimatum.”

          “Such as?”

          “Channeling, or you.”

          Samson grew quiet. “And if she doesn’t choose me?”

          “Then you’ve lost her either way.”

          Samson escorted Selanja out, then slowly paced in his office, his head bowed in thought. Finally, he called out to Calli.

          “Calli!” he yelled.

          The tigra entered from her outer office. “Yes, Ma’chi?”

          “I’m going to the temple to see Jeena.”

          “Of course. Shall I set up an appointment with Aramis?”

          Samson growled low and long. “I do not need an appointment to see my ibru!”

          “No, you do not,” she said calmly, “but it is customary and no need to blow the fur off my back.”

          Samson sighed. “I’m sorry. You’re right. But no appointment—and no Suul. It’s getting so I can’t take a walk anymore without an armed escort.”

          Following Samson’s ascension to the throne, several attempts had been made on his life. In response, Calli had created a special military unit for the emperor’s protection—the Suularian Guard. Tigras all, their training was intense, overseen by Ghannon of Uruk, in the temple of Anil.

          Each candidate was chosen by Calli personally, and only those who showed mastery in the skills of combat, were given the title of Suul. They were Samson’s private escort whenever he left the palace. They wore full body armor at all times and were armed with MAAD weapons, and they answered to no one but the emperor and Calli.

          “I would argue, but I know it won’t do any good,” she said. “But you don’t go alone. I am coming with you.”

          Samson started to protest but decided it was moot and yielded.

          “Yes, by all means,” he said. “I would appreciate the company.”

 

          Samson strode across Uruk’s central plaza with Calli at his side. In the five years since their victory over the Coalition, and Samson’s ascension to the throne, many changes had taken place in Uruk. While Samson still ruled from the Regent’s palace, it became clear early on that the situation could not continue.

           The population of the planet was increasing exponentially, with most of the new residents working in some way for the new empire, and Uruk was becoming overrun.

          Four years ago, Samson laid the foundations for a new city, the Imperial City, fifty miles from Uruk, and construction was now nearing completion. Soon, Samson and all those connected to the imperial government would move into the new palace complex.

          Samson had asked, then begged Jeena to join him, but she remained resolute in her determination to stay in the temple. She argued that as chief shimhatu, her duties required her to be present and available to her acolytes, but Samson knew this was a pretext.

          Since her experience with J.C. on the Rothra Orr, she had been experimenting with these newly discovered powers within herself. The best minds in the empire were still unable to explain just how she was able to do it, but the general consensus was that she was channeling power at the quantum level. At first, Jeena was content to simply feel the flow and try to direct it, but as confidence in her abilities grew, she began looking deeper.

           At the quantum level, time was not linear, and Jeena found she could glimpse images from not only the past, but the future—many futures. As she quickly learned, the future was not set, but varied, each future branching off from the previous like limbs on a tree.

Initially, she found these briefs flashes of possible futures fascinating, but that soon turned to dismay and horror as each future seemed to show only death and destruction. In the last year, she had grown increasing desperate to find an alternative.

          Night after night, Aramis would walk with her to the top of a nearby hill and Jeena would channel the quantum flow, then return to the temple and try to decipher what she had seen.

          Although she swore she felt no ill effects, Samson could see the changes taking place. She had become more and more erratic, unstable and paranoid. She would at times ramble almost incoherently about the future and pathways and branches in a way that made him fear for her sanity. Lately, she had even begun talking to herself.

          To Samson it had all the hallmarks of a kind of addiction, and he had pleaded for her to stop. They had already had several intense arguments over the matter, but all he had succeeded in doing was to drive a wedge between them.

          As Samson and Calli crossed the plaza, the human inhabitants of Uruk halted and bowed their heads in respect, while the tigras prostrated themselves upon the ground, their paws out before them, their eyes diverted. For to them, Samson was more than just their emperor. To his people, Samson was their savior and Messiah, the Ma’chi.

          Calli halted at the steps of the temple and addressed the two female guards stationed at the doors. These were devotees of the temple of Anil, the God of War, signified by their wearing of the ki, the Babylonian war kilt, and the golden sword that dangled from their pierced left breast.

          “His Majesty calls upon the Ma-ghalon,” Calli announced.

          Bowing in return, the temple guards swung opened the huge wooden doors of the temple and stepped aside. Clio, one of the original nine tigras Samson had trained prior to the awakening of his race and Jeena’s personal secretary, burst from the interior and greeted him warmly on the steps.

          “Ma’chi! It is so good to see you. I was just at the palace the other day, wasn’t I, Calli?  But of course you were busy, so I didn’t get a chance to see you, but I did run into Rat and Urania—oh, and isn’t wonderful about the new hospital in Thal-lon. I’ll bet Poly is just as pleased as can be…”

          Clio was capable of an almost endless stream of conversation once she got going, but felt movement behind her and halted her rambling in mid-sentence. She turned to see Aramis, the elder shimhatu, standing with her hands clasped before her.

          The old woman motioned the tigra aside, hesitating for just an instant before bowing low to Samson.

          “You honor us, Your Majesty. Please forgive me if you find us unprepared. I did not see your visit on today’s schedule.” 

          Oh, you old crone, let me tell you what you can do with your schedule, Samson thought, but held his tongue. A crowd of humans and tigras had amassed at the base of the steps and were listening to the exchange.

          “No apologies are necessary, priestess. This is an impromptu call, and not a state visit. I am simply here to see Jeena.”

          “Alas, Your Majesty, that you did not alert us first to your coming. I am afraid that the Ma-ghalon is occupied with her meditations and cannot be disturbed.”

          Samson felt the blood rushing to his head, rising with his anger.

          “Then we will wait in her office. We have no wish to interrupt the Ma-ghalon’s contemplations,” he said through clenched teeth.

          The old woman hesitated, then bowed again. “As you wish, sire.” 

          She stepped back into the temple and Samson followed, Calli behind him. Aramis escorted them wordlessly through the temple to Jeena’s private quarters on the second floor, while Clio continued her one-sided dialogue.

          “Anyway, I was saying I’ll bet Poly is pleased with the new hospital. They’ve needed more space for a while, what with all the new births. That reminds me, I’m going up there later in the week to see the new cubs. Calli, would you like to join me? No? How come? Oh, that’s right, you have to see to the new city. How silly of me, I forgot all about it. I hear it’s beautiful. I can’t wait to see it.”

          Aramis opened the door to Jeena’s outer office and ushered them in. A second door across the room was closed.

          “Please be seated, Your Majesty,” Aramis said, her gestures stiffly formal. “The Ma-ghalon is in her private chapel. When she has completed her meditation, I shall announce your arrival. Clio, perhaps you could find a shimhatu and see to it that the Emperor and Calli are served tea while they wait.”

          “Yes, Aramis, of course. Right away. Green tea Ma’chi; Calli? I can’t stand the dark stuff myself. I won’t be but a minute.”

          She hurried from the room.

          Samson stood silent and irritable, tapping his foot. When he had reached the end of his patience, he headed for the door leading to the inner room.

          “Your Majesty, please!” Aramis protested. “The goddess is…”

          Samson cut her off with a low growl, glowering at her through unfriendly eyes.

          “She is not a goddess, she is my ibru,” he said, “and I will see her now and not be made to wait like a discomfited petitioner. You have learned much concerning my race in these last years Aramis, now learn this: it is unwise to come between a tigra and his mate.”

          They locked eyes for a moment, then Aramis turned and marched quickly from the room.

          “Calli,” Samson said, “I am not to be disturbed.”

          “Of course, Ma’chi.”

          “Go find your sister. Spend some time with her. If you’re lucky, you may even get a word in. Close the door behind you.”

          The room beyond was dark, save for the flickering of candles set in niches situated around the wall of the circular room. Across from Samson, a large alcove had been carved into the wall and in it stood a marble statue of a naked woman, her head bowed, her hands extended.

          Samson blinked, his eyes adjusting to the low light. Sitting on the floor in front of the idol he saw Jeena, as naked as the statue, her legs crossed. She was thin, almost gaunt he thought. Her hair, at one time thick and luxurious was now unkempt and wild, covering her shoulders and falling in twisted strands over her face.

          Scattered pages of paper were strewn around her, filled with uneven writing. She spoke in a low voice, a pen in her right hand. She made no motion toward Samson and seemed oblivious to his presence.

          “No, not that way,” she whispered. “Not another war. There must be another path. No. Again. Here, yes, here.”

          She suddenly reached out, grasping blindly until her hand touched a paper. Pulling it to her, she scrawled across it without looking. The pen stopped and she spoke again.    

          “Is this then the way? But where am I? Where am I?”

          Samson slowly circled her. He had heard about these trances, but she had refused to allow him to witness it. Watching her now, he understood why she had kept him away. The sight of the woman he loved lost in her own mind, rambling, eyes vacant, tore at his heart. He wanted to look away but found himself staring in open wonder.

          He quietly lifted a piece of paper at his feet and read the scrawling lines.

          He dies. Again he dies. A light saves him, but what light? Where am I?

          His heel found a scattered pen and his weight came down on it with a loud crack.

          Jeena leapt up, looking around yet apparently not seeing the tigra before her.

          Samson stepped forward. “Jeena?”

          She cowered at his voice, backing away.

          “No, no, it’s all right. It’s only me.”

          “Samson?”

          “Yes, Jeena. It’s me.”

          She finally appeared to see him, but the look in her eyes was like that of a trapped animal.

          “Where are we?” she whispered.

          Samson blinked away the tears from his eyes but could not control the crack of his voice. “We’re on Ararat, my love. In the temple of Ishtar—I mean the Pelon—in Uruk. It’s the second week of summer—a beautiful day.”

          Jeena nodded, the wild expression slowly fading from her eyes. “The Pelon? Yes, I remember. I renamed it, didn’t I. Why did I do that? What… ah, of course…the timeline…” Her voice faded.

          “Jeena.”

          Her head jerked up. “Samson,” she said smiling. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

          “I know… I… I thought I’d surprise you.”

          “Did you? How nice.” She reached up and pulled a wild strand of hair from her face. “I must look a mess.”

          “You look beautiful.”

          She looked down, as if just realizing she was naked. “I should… I should probably… put something on.”

          Samson smiled. “Why?”

          “Right. I don’t know why I said that.”

          They stood facing each other as the silence grew. “Would you like some tea or something?” She gestured toward the office door.

          “Sure.”

          She led them back to the outer office. Moving behind her desk, she lifted a translucent tunic from the back of the chair and slipped it over her head.

          “Chilly in here,” she said, in way of explanation.

          She looked at the empty coffee table in front of the settee. “Sorry. They usually have tea waiting for me.”

          “It’s my fault. I sent everyone away for a while. Come, sit next to me.”

          They sat on the couch and Samson took her hand in his paw. “Seems like ages since we’ve seen each other.”

          “I know, and I’m sorry. I’ve just been so busy.”

          She saw the paper in his hand and took it, glancing at it briefly before crumbling it and tossing it to the floor.

          “What did that mean?” he asked.

          “Nothing, nothing.” She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

          “You work too hard. You look exhausted.”

          “No, just tired.”

          “I saw the lights from the hill again last night.”

          She glanced down, averting his gaze.

          “Jeena…”

          She looked up, smiling and gripping his paw tightly.

          “Please, let’s not talk about that now; let’s not fight. Not again. Can’t we just…can’t we just sit here, just for a while?” Her eyes were almost pleading.

          He wanted to press the issue, to force her to accept the fact that she was losing control and that she needed help, but he knew that would only start another fight. He brushed her cheek with the back of his paw.

          “Of course we can, my love. Of course we can.”

          She nestled against him and closed her eyes, not moving for so long that Samson thought she must certainly have fallen asleep, but when she finally spoke, there was no drowsiness in her voice.

          “I’m glad you came by. There was something I wanted to talk to you about. You do realize that your tenth year anniversary on the throne will soon be here, don’t you? Preparations to mark the occasion need to be made.”

          “Jeena,” he said gently, “It’s only been five years. I took the throne five years ago.”

          A pause. “Yes, of course. I remember now. I’m sorry. I get confused sometimes. Past, present, future, all become jumbled. You’re building a new city, right? It should be nearly done by now.”

          “Very near. I never thought it would go this far. I thought the planets of the Coalition would have formed a federation and tossed my furry butt out long before now. Hopefully, within the next couple of years…”

          “No. You will rule the empire for as long as you live.”

          The smile faded from Samson’s lips.

          “But I don’t want to rule the empire for as long as I live. That was never part of the bargain. It was supposed to be temporary, remember? I only agreed to take throne in a last ditch effort to hold the old empire together long enough to establish a stable democracy.

          “Now look at what’s happened. Great Maag, the planets are pressing for imperial representation on their worlds. They want me to grant titles of Dukes, and to tigras, no less!”

          “I know, but it’s necessary, just as it’s necessary for you to remain emperor. The worlds are sniping at each other. Without some imperial oversight, there could be civil war. And no, they will not accept a human in that role, not after the abuses of the last empire. It must be one of your people. Besides, each planetary governor is still elected by the people. The royal houses just add stability to the empire.”

          “Are you listening to yourself? ‘Royal Houses’? We fought the Coalition to end that kind of madness.”

          “The Coalition were tyrants and despots, but that doesn’t mean their system of government didn’t have certain advantages. As I said, it is necessary.”

          “Necessary? Why?” he said, standing and facing her. “Tell me what you think all this will accomplish?”

          Jeena pressed her hands together and brought them to her lips, gazing at Samson in silence as though gathering her thoughts. Finally, she spoke.

          “I can’t explain it any better than to say that I am able to see glimpses of many futures; different possibilities, each dependent on what we do in this time. It’s hard. There are so many possible roads, so many branches for each, but I’m trying to track the best path that I can.”

          “A path to what?”

          “A specific future; that one future in ten thousand where it all comes together, for your people, for mine, for the Empire, for the Union, for everybody. I’ve seen its beginning. I know the broad strokes, but I have to see the fine detail to know what to do.”

          Samson shook his head wearily. “You know who you sound like? The old Regent. What was her name?”

          “Elaina.”

          “Yes. She claimed to have seen visions of you before you arrived on Ararat.”

          “Maybe she did.”

          “Maybe, but then look what happened to her. Jeena, the future is what it is. It can’t be manipulated and you’re driving yourself crazy trying.”

          Jeena leapt up. “I am not mad!”

          “I never said you were.”

          “But that’s what you think. You and the rest of them.”

          Her expression suddenly changed. She seemed agitated, her eyes darting form aide to side, as if listening to some inner conversation. She stood and paced, rubbing her hands together.

          “I hear them. I know they don’t think I do, but I hear them. People on the street. They stare. Look at her. She’s losing her mind. But I know. I know. I see it all. I see yesterday and today and tomorrow. I see what they can’t.” She began rapping her knuckles against her head. “Shut up. Shut up. I will tell him.”

          Samson grabbed her by her shoulders. “Stop it!! Jeena, you aren’t yourself. Channeling this energy is eating at you. You’re slipping away, not just from me, but from life. Sometimes I don’t recognize you at all.”

          His voice became firm. “End this.”

          She looked up at him, her lip trembling. “I can’t. Samson, I can’t.”

          He paused, releasing her. “You say this future of yours requires me to be emperor?”

          “Yes.”

          “Then I will abdicate tomorrow.”

          No! her mind shouted. He cannot. All will be lost!”

          “Samson, you can’t. The timeline will collapse.”

          “Then you’ll have no reason to keep looking into it, will you? You can go back to living again.”

          Jeena grew quiet, the voice in her mind suddenly calm, reasoned.

          He makes no idle threat. He thinks by stepping down, he is saving you. Even though doing so will save no one. You, least of all. Lie to him.

          No!

          Do it! Or the world will end in fire. You have seen it.

          Jeena closed her eyes. Please forgive this lie, my love, and all the lies to come.

          She took a deep breath, savoring the sudden stillness in her mind. “This was never meant to hurt you.” she said, softly., opening her eyes and looking into his. “All right. All right, I’ll stop.”

          “You mean it?”

          “Yes.”

          He drew her near. “Thank you. You don’t need to fear the future. I promise, whatever the future holds, you and I will face it together.”

          “I know we will my love, I know we will.”