Prologue

IT WAS A BRIGHT,BEAUTIFUL MORNING , the sun blazing hot and white in a cloudless green sky. His hands

clasped behind him, Kerajem zan Trikotta stood at the east window of his elaborately appointed office

atop Government Tower. The seven members of the Council of Ministers sat silently in comfortable chairs

around the room, each alone with his thoughts.

 

The ministers had been there all the previous day and through the night. They had talked endlessly of

peace and war, of good and evil, of life and death. They had argued with each other until their voices

had gone, along with their patience. The room air was stale with the sweat of their effort.

 

Now it was midmorning of the next day, and time was nearly up. The First Among Equals had a decision to

make, and so Kerajem was being left to himself for the few moments left.

 

Kerajem looked down forty-one flights to the busy streets below. It seemed that everyone in the world

must be outdoors today, enjoying the suddenly fine weather. Kerajem knew that most of the people down

there were government bureaucrats who should have been at their desks on this workday. He smiled

slightly. If the smaller wheels who drove the massive machinery of government wanted to take an hour or

so off to enjoy the sunshine, then why not? It had been a long, hard winter, and this was the first

truly pleasant day the capital had seen in months.

 

The facts were what they were, and they would not change. That had not stopped several of the ministers

from arguing, bargaining for time, hoping against hope that things would work out nevertheless, and that

a way out of the crisis would be found.

 

Kerajem looked up toward the eastern horizon. It was so clear today that he could see all the way to the

mountains, which were still white with snow and ice. The mountains were the foothills of the great Kajja

Kojja, the range that divided the eastern coast of this continent from the interior plains.

 

Kerajem knew those mountains well. He had been born among them, in one of the old mining towns. It had

been a hard life back then. Kerajem had been drafted to work in the mines at the age of six, as the laws

had then required. Children of both sexes were sent into the mines because, being small, they could

scramble and wiggle and force themselves into dark, narrow places where grown men could not go. It had

been highly dangerous work that provided only the most meager reward to the childrens families.

 

You came from there, too, Rikkadar,

Kerajem said over his shoulder.

The mountains. You remember how

it was.

 

Yes, First,

the finance minister replied from his chair. He was the only other man in the room above

the age of sixty, and he was the only one there who Kerajem thought of as a friend.

That was a long

time ago.

 

Not very. A mere matter of decades.

Still facing the mountains, Kerajem looked at his hands. He could

not remember a time when he had possessed all ten of his fingers. He might be who he was now, but the

mines always found him again whenever he tried to hold a cup or sign his name.

 

It had been Kerajems generation which, when it had come to maturity and power, had at last eased the

relentless preparations for war instituted and maintained for millennia by their forefathers. Kerajem

himself had helped to form the more liberal policies of modern times when he was younger. There had been

great opposition, mostly by the old, the self-interested, and the superstitious, but reform had finally

come. As a result, living conditions for the people were generally much better than they had been when

Kerajem was a boy.

 

Social reform had finally come in the conviction that the old stories of doom and destruction had been

merely the exaggerated stuff of hoary legend, tales of horror believed only by the stupid, the gullible,

and the obsessed. However, the world had discovered the terrible truth just thirty-three years before,

when the first signals from space had been detected and the first probes intercepted. Those who would

destroy the world were real, and they were coming. Now they were almost here, and they promised that

everything Kerajem knew and loved would soon end in fire and blood and death.

 

That promise did not leave the First Among Equals much choice.

 

There was a transmitter on Kerajems desk, a direct line to the War Room. It suddenly beeped politely

for his attention. Kerajem crossed the room and, thumbing a button on the side of the unit, spoke into

the pickup. The eyes of everyone were on him.

 

General, this is the First,

Kerajem said, seating himself at the desk, impossibly trying to make

himself comfortable.

You are speaking to the entire Cabinet.

 

Yes, sir. I have a report.

 

Go ahead.

 

The test schedule has been completed. Results are nominal.

 

Very well,

Kerajem said quietly.

Please stand by.

 

The First took a last moment for himself and then made his decision. Rikkadar saw the promise of doom in

his friends haunted eyes.

Plan Blue doesnt even represent a real defense,

the finance minister said,

his voice cracking.

Bring them back, Kerajem. Recall them before its too late.

 

Blue sets a high price for our demise,

said Hattajek, the minister for defense. He rubbed his eyes

wearily.

Weve been all over this, First.

 

Indeed we have, Hatta,

Kerajem said gently,

but I would be disappointed if this order were to be

given without objection.

 

There were several small, neatly framed photographs set in a group near a far corner of Kerajems

cluttered desktop. The foremost photo was a nice portrait of Kerajems only granddaughterravenhaired,

freckled, unscarred by life and fate. Little Kara and her contemporaries had never known the inside of

the mines and the factories. Kerajem and his fellow reformers had at least accomplished that much.

 

Of course, it was not nearly enough.

 

The First gazed at Karas picture for another moment and then he gave the order.

General, execute Plan

Blue Ultimate according to schedule.

 

Yes, sir.

 

Ill be there shortly with Minister Hattajek.

Kerajem broke the connection.

Thank you all,

he said

to the ministers, dismissing them.

Hatta, you go on ahead. Ill be along presently.

 

Yes, First.

Hattajek left and, one by one, the others began to drift out of the room after him.

 

Rikkadar was the last to leave.

Are you sure about this, Kerajem?

he asked softly, when they were

alone.

Are you really sure?

 

Of course not, Rikky,

the First answered kindly,

but its all weve got.

 

Rikkadar sighed.

I suppose so. I wish it were otherwise.

 

So do I. Go home. Get some sleep.

 

So should you, Kerajem.

 

The First Among Equals shook his head.

I have to go to the War Room now,

he said quietly.

Were at

Blue Ultimate. I … wont be home again for a while.

 

All right,

Rikkadar said,

but Ill be back here later today. Sooner if you need me, of course.

 

Of course.

 

Be well, my friend.

Rikkadar closed the door gently behind him.

 

Kerajem was alone now. Closing his eyes, he reached far back into his childhood and muttered what little

he remembered of the prayer his mother had taught him to keep him safe in the mines. Only a miracle

could save the world. Though he did not believe, Kerajem bowed his head and prayed to his mothers god

for a miracle.