“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Orram interrupted, “but this can’t wait.”
A muscle in the woman’s chin pulsed with annoyance. She took a deep breath, however, and moved around the table to approach Orram.
“Orram, my name is President Euring,” she said, extending her hand. He took it and shook it. “I’m currently the leader of the Board of Orange. Normally, I’d kick you out for interrupting my meeting, but I’ll overlook it as a cultural misunderstanding. You’re here now and you seem to think your issue supersedes all others, so please, say what you came here to say.”
Great first impression, the old man scolded himself.
“I’ve come to ask for aid,” he started. “Aid against a force that threatens us all: the Council. Specifically, it’s stronghold in Shell City.”
“You’ve come to ask us to join a war,” a man with round spectacles commented from the table.
“Jeffers, please,” President Euring snapped at the seated man. She gestured for Orram to continue.
“Last week, the Council launched an attack on my people and our allies,” he carried on. “We lost thousands of lives. In response, my king has declared war on the Council. Understand that this incident doesn’t stand alone — it is just the straw that broke the camel’s back, so to speak. Aside from attacking peaceful people, the Council is guilty of kidnapping, torture, mutilation, and tyranny. They must be stopped.”
“Wars are expensive, Orram,” Euring started. “You’re asking us to risk so much for, what? To stop a few warlords? They don’t bother us from their domain in Shell City. It seems to me that this is not our fight.”
“It won’t seem that way when they march on the Republic of Orange,” Orram replied. “They will certainly come for all you hold dear once they are done with my people. Then, we won’t be around to come to your aid.”
“If it were a costless effort, I’d help you in a heartbeat,” Euring said. “But our people will suffer if we go to war. Why trade in one suffering for another?”
Orram thought for a moment. He wished to the spirit of God that he as quick-witted as those with fewer years under their belt. Calmly, he realized that wasn’t why Hum had chosen him to be his adviser, however. Orram’s strength wasn’t in snappy wit, but calculated appeal. His talent was understanding what a person valued most and how to use it to his advantage. Were I a more scrupulous man, he thought, I could be king.
The Board of Orange didn’t care about stopping evil or protecting people. What they cared about were profits.
“Have you ever heard of a simpod?” he asked, changing the course of his approach.
Everyone in the boardroom raised their brow or furrowed it, including President Euring. She seemed to sense a larger game behind his question, but still took the bait.
“I can’t say I have,” she replied.
“They’re incubation chambers the Council uses to breed meat puppets,” he started to explain. “More specifically, it simulates whatever you want it to in what I’ve been told is painstaking detail. A friend of mine used to live in one. He said it was how they educated him, how they entertained him, how they honed his reflexes. The applications are vast, I’m sure.”
There was a sparkle in Euring’s eyes as she listened. “Vast indeed,” she said, deep in thought.
“That’s technology the Council has been hoarding for years,” Orram said. “Can you imagine, though, how useful such a device would be to you and your people? I can’t imagine anyone who wouldn’t want to buy them, providing you weren’t locking people up in them like the Council does.”
“Hmm,” Euring replied.
“The simpod is only one piece of the tech the Council has kept from the world,” Orram continued. “I can only imagine the treasures you’d find in Shell City — that is, if it were liberated somehow. There’d be no way to get that tech with the Council in charge, though.”
“I suppose not,” Euring replied. The others at the table murmured with each other, discussing the monetary possibilities of such an endeavor.
“This is the best shot we have of getting rid of them,” Orram said. “Join us, and all that lucrative tech can be yours.”
Euring straightened her posture and sized the old man up. “Very well,” she said. “We will draft up a contract and send it to your king.”
Orram released a sigh of relief. He wanted to do somersaults of joy, but he kept his demeanor cool. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a little dirty about his manipulation.
Better not abuse that, he reminded himself with an internal chuckle.
Ghosts
To say the cavern Gauge landed outside was huge was an understatement. The mouth that led into it was large enough to fit one of the Union’s gunships through, and the interior only seemed more gargantuan from what he could see.
The Ghosts lived only an hour’s flight from Opes to the south. Gauge parked his autocar in a small clearing in the shadow of the mountain the tribe called their home. When he stepped out, a pair of bodyshells with faded paint jobs and desert shawls greeted him and searched him for any weapons. When they cleared him, he was escorted into the cave. One of the bodyshells introduced himself as Tain.
“We didn’t expect you to arrive so soon,” Tain said as they left the outside world behind.
“Opes isn’t so far away, it turns out,” Gauge replied.
“Our leader is currently preoccupied, but I think she will forgive the intrusion for this matter,” the escort said.
Gauge couldn’t help but open his mouth in amazement as he studied the interior of the cave. The rock walls towered to at least three hundred feet in height, where Gauge could barely make out the ceiling in all the gloom. In fact, the whole place would be enshrouded in darkness if it weren’t for the incredible display of electronic lanterns that lined the entire chamber. Along the walls were makeshift buildings, all supported on giant beams and platforms. It made
