Chapter Fourteen

True to her word, the Vice President resigned within an hour of the title’s passing. She released a statement through the global messaging service expressing shock and sadness that the President had voted against her – and his own – wishes despite promising otherwise. The intent of the message was clear to Lars, whose political instincts were slowly budding. She wanted to embarrass the King, try to make him out to be untrustworthy.

The King, for his part, did not release a statement. But later that night, drinking with Sofia, he confided that the Herald camp was fraught.

“How so?” she asked. Neither of them enjoyed the atmosphere of Luna so they were in her office, just as they had done when they were investigating the Grays. Lars missed those times, when he felt like he was doing something of consequence. But his encounter with the King had burned him, and he had been content to remain in the background for the last few months. Sofia, however, was insistent on working the problem.

“Well, we split 50/50 on that weapons ban. And the King changed his mind, of course, so nobody really knows where he stands. It’s a divided faction right now.”

“What about you?” she asked.

“What about me?”

“How do you feel about the King?”

He paused to think. “I honestly hadn’t considered it much. He’s the King, you know. He’s less a person than a…”

“God?” she said.

“No, no, not God. He’s a monolith. A force, like gravity. He pulls you in, and it doesn’t matter what your opinion is. You can’t hope to escape it.”

“Lots of people on my planet thought gravity was a ridiculous idea, for the longest time,” Sofia mused, circling her wine glass with her finger.

“Weren’t you supposed to all be enlightened scientists?”

“We had a good head-start, but we’re not immune to basic human stupidity,” she said. “We had the flat-earthers, the anti-vaccine people, the second-mooners -“

“Wait, what was that last one?”

She looked at him oddly. “You’ve never heard of the Two Moons theory.”

He started to laugh. “You’re kidding.”

“No! About four hundred, four-fifty years ago, these people down in Olhemaroa -“

“Which one’s that?”

“Big one, south-east. Here.” She pointed at the map to the continent he knew as Oztralia.

“Gotcha.”

“Anyway, they swore blind that sometimes, when the moon was in the right position, you could see a little bulge on the side. They theorised – and I use the world as generally as possible – that it was a second moon.”

“What, hiding behind the first one?”

“Exactly.”

“That’s… we never had anything like that.”

“Oh, they had all these theories. Just like any conspiracy – they found ways to fold every piece of evidence anyone gave them into their own model. Eclipses, gravity – well, there’s gravity again. Maybe that’s where the anti-grav theories started too.”

“You’re one to talk about conspiracy theories,” he said, gesturing to the documents and photographs still hung up in the office.

“This is different,” she said. “I’m close to something here – I’ve even had a little help from Garden. It’s not about the couple anymore – the King can’t get mad at us.”

“At you,” he corrected. “I want no role in this.”

“Fine, at me. I’ve been thinking about the differences and similarities in our universes. Listen. Do you remember that we talked about Occam’s Razor?”

“Yes, just about.”

“Who was Occam?”

“Uh… a philosopher? Logician, or something? He must have been very old, if we both remember his Razor.”

“He was old, but not old enough. I looked it up. William of Ockham, born 1285.” She was suddenly dead sober. “When did you say Alexander of Macedon died?”

“299 BC, age 56” he recited, pulling up the memory from history classes.

“When mine died around 323 BCE. You see what I’m saying?”

“…not entirely.”

“Occam should never have existed in one of our timelines. We diverged well before his birth, and the ripples of major events like that – 1500 years earlier – should mean that reference points like that simply shouldn’t exist.”

Lars’ head hurt, though that could have been the scotch. He swigged some water. “So why do I know who that is?”

“I don’t know. But I’m working it out. And I think you can help me.”

“Sofia…” he started to protest.

“I know, but this won’t be like last time. The King can’t possibly complain – he’s got a Vice President to choose, for one thing, and we’re not interfering with his business.”

“You’re talking about his family, his ancestors.”

“That’s just an example. There must be hundreds of other divergences we can look at – we don’t even have to look at Earth: Herald at all. Like I said, I have a Garden contact – we made a kind of trade. But you can get the historical data I need, from your team.”

“My team?”

“The people back on Earth: Herald, who are helping you.”

“Oh yes. Listen… I just got the Service to do that research, last time. I don’t know if we have a team. Not in the same way you do.”

“Oh.” she said, visibly deflating.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I’ll just… I’ll find someone else to help.”

“Sorry,” he said again, uselessly. “I wish I could be more…” he started to say, before considering the multitude of ways that sentence could end. More help. More powerful. More aware. More than this. Perhaps ‘more’ was a good place to leave it.

***

Marcia was put in charge – of course – of the search for a Vice President. The King appointed her in an all-Herald meeting the following day, and emphasised to all present that the one thing he wanted to avoid was a repeat of the Presidential elections.

“That sort of free-for-all will not be acceptable any longer,” he intoned, his cheeks reddening with stress, “and I’m certain that each of you will have contacts coming out of the woodwork to get their name on the list. If that happens, tell them that the shortlist has already been determined, and candidates will be approached over the following days. We will present a united front on this, Herald.”

As the meeting packed up and people began to gather their things and leave, Marcia approached Lars.

“So,” he said, “the shortlist is done.”

“Oh yes,” she said. “Mostly.” She lowered her voice a little. “I’m still looking for a couple of names, including one from Carmen.”

“What’s taking so long?”

“It’s only been a day, Lars,” she said. “Besides, I’m coming to you for help, if you can believe it. I think you know that camp better than me.”

“Perhaps,” he said. “What are the qualities you’re looking for?” He was pleased to be given a good job for once, instead of ferrying messages.

“Doesn’t matter,” she said. “They won’t be picked – we have the actual shortlist, we just need to get one or two people from each Earth so it looks more balanced.”

The feeling of importance evaporated as quickly as it arrived. “Fine. I’ll have a think.”

“Great,” Marcia said, sweeping off without so much as a thank you. That was about what he expected from her – he could hardly believe that they had been married not so long ago.

He had loved her at the time, of course. But he could not remember for sure whether that love had been tinged with doubt, or if the doubt came later. Many people felt that hindsight brought them clarity, but it actually made it harder for Lars to determine his feelings – it all blurred together in time. He often wished his memory were better. One night, Sofia had asked him when Marcia had asked for a divorce, and he couldn’t remember. As far as he recalled, there was no decisive day – it just happened. He could remember the days they were married, and days of the process, and days after of course, but he couldn’t remember any of the turning points. Nor could he recall their reasonings – it was obvious they didn’t like each other very much, but other than that, why had they broken up? For that matter, why had they gotten married? There had been many long days in the deepest parts of the Palace where they and a select few (all of whom were now delegates, excepting the Baron Gray) had monitored the ever-changing situation. Together they interpreted the signals being sent from the other Earths, and eventually began to establish just what was happening through the rift. It had been an intense time, and perhaps some of that intensity translated to their personal lives, too. And besides, they didn’t often see anyone else. When they could leave the Palace they weren’t permitted to tell anyone about their work, as the King didn’t want to make any announcements before the situation was properly established. That was another day Lars couldn’t remember – just the days before and the days after.

Petty memories fogged over Lars’ mind for the rest of the day, where he barely heard the speeches and votes of the day. New communications protocols were being provided that would allow for video and audio media to be sent from each Earth. Lunch would be delayed today. Shuttles bringing requested shipments would be docking in a few days.

It was then that Colonel Powell surprised everyone again, announcing that she would be resigning not only from the Vice Presidency, but from the station altogether, and taking that same shuttle back to Garden. There was little fanfare, and little said altogether – her final speech lasted a full minute, and then she was gone from the chamber. That was enough to stir Lars out of his malaise, and it shocked everyone else too – Powell was the first delegate to leave Audacity, for any reason.

“She’s clever, nobody can dispute that,” said Marcia that night. She was looking over Lars’ selections for Vice President from Carmen, in her room. Lars was picking at his fingernails.

“Clever? What’s clever about dropping out of the whole system?”

“Well, the press she’ll get for this. She’s made history, and done it just in time to ship out without having to face the consequences. I understand that the Audacity project is still seen as a volatile thing – on other Earths, anyway – and if anything’s going to signal its decline it would be this. Good timing, wouldn’t you say?”

“Maybe,” Lars was getting sick of not quite following these conversations, so he turned it back to the reason he was there. “How’s the list?”

“It will do,” she said. “I think I’ll recommend Sai and Señorita Castillo.”

That surprised Lars – he had put Sofia on the list as a long shot, knowing that the King had reprimanded her (along with himself) not too long ago. The same was true of Sai, in fact – nobody knew all the details, but a delegate had seen the King leaving Sai’s dormitory the night of his election, apparently out of sorts. He knew in his heart that it didn’t really matter – the choice had already been made, and it wouldn’t be either of them – but it was a little heartening. “Great,” he said. “Should I tell them tomorrow?”

“I suppose you can – there’ll be a meeting in a few days, at midnight.”

“Why midnight?”

“It won’t technically be a closed chamber session – you can’t really do those, with all the cameras – but the King wants to keep it as small as possible, so he can make judgements independently. Okay?”

“Fine. Can I come?”

“Like I said, it’s not a closed session.”

“Right you are,” he said, taking his cue to leave.

***

“Sofia!” he said, seeing her from the other end of the corridor. It was the following day, just before breakfast. She turned at the sound of her name and began to stride towards him with purpose.

“I have something to tell you,” she said. At the same time, he said “I’ve got some news.”

“Me first,” they both said.

“Okay, you first,” she said. They stood in the centre of a bustling corridor, with delegates and Service members on all sides, so he pulled her into a nearby room by the arm. She released herself from his grip – “I can walk myself, but thank you.”

“Sorry,” he said. “Listen – I got your name onto a list. There’s going to be a meeting tomorrow night, starting at midnight. The King will be there, and he’ll be choosing his Vice President.” He explained how Marcia had asked him to put together a list, but left out the part about the decision being a foregone conclusion. When he was done, she tilted her head.

“You put me on the list? Why?”

“I thought you might like to be considered… it’s a big position.”

“Is it? So far I can see that it’s got someone fired and she didn’t even get to consult on the one important vote in that time.”

“To be fair, she resigned. And I see your point, but maybe you would do it differently. You don’t want the job?” He had thought she would be excited.

“I’ll take the meeting,” she said. “But I don’t think it’s for me. I’ll get to present my case to the President?”

“Right – but you said you didn’t want it.”

“I’ve got things I can tell him all the same.” she said, and didn’t elaborate further. It was only once she was gone that he realised that she had never told him her news. Now there was no doubt – he had to be at that meeting.

***

It was a day later, close to midnight. The shuttles had come, and Colonel Powell had gone. Like her farewell speech, her disappearance had no fanfare, but the Garden faction were notably absent during much of the day’s business. Naturally, there was no replacement delegate yet, so they were at a numerical disadvantage in the Parliament. Lars had got himself a new jumper as part of Herald’s supply drop, which he now wore, sipping tea in the chamber as he waited for the meeting to begin. He was on the back row of the Herald benches where, in a quirk of the architecture, it was difficult to see much but the central speaking point on the floor. Even the empty President’s chair on the opposite side of the room was cast in shadow from the fluorescent light above. That light was slowly dimming as the station shifted into its night cycle. The violet light of the only window in the chamber spilled out into the room – it didn’t seem to switch off, even as every other light did so.

Lars had arrived early. For a short period the chamber was quiet, and he was able to relax, but it didn’t last long. The Speaker came in first, with his assistant Matthelm in tow. They began to talk in hushed tones, before the Speaker climbed the stairs to his seat. Then the invited delegates began to filter in. First were Sai and Sofia, the machine radiating excitement and Sofia unreadable, carrying stacks of papers. Then was Lord Panagos, the King’s scientific advisor, who spotted Lars as he climbed the steps of the benches. The older man raised his eyebrows slightly, as if to say, “Why are you here?” but kept silence.

For Edo came Isidor and Kei from Nano Dex, whispering conspiratorially all the way to their benches. They looked like they couldn’t believe their luck at having been chosen. Lars thought that might be it, but then a single Garden representative whose name he didn’t know pushed through the doors and wordlessly took a seat at the front of their benches. He wondered if she had been invited, or was a spectator like him. But as the King entered with Marcia behind him, he didn’t seem taken aback by the sight of the Garden woman. Eleven of them in a room that seated two hundred – it felt both excessive and entirely appropriate for the event.

“Good evening,” he said to the assembled crowd. “Perhaps you would all sit a little closer to the front, such that I can see you properly? It would be appreciated.”

Obediently Lars picked himself up and moved closer to the front, though he still sat a few rows behind everyone else to make clear that he hadn’t been invited there. The President climbed up to his chair, towering above them all. “Now,” he boomed, “are we about ready to begin?”

Answers in the affirmative echoed around the almost-empty room, ranging in tone from yawning to enthused. Marcia crept up to sit beside Lars as speeches began, each candidate taking time to reintroduced themselves and make their case for Vice President. Everyone’s natural volume was lower when they didn’t have to talk over two hundred other delegates, but it gave the whole meeting a strange tone of subterfuge. The King, seemingly unbothered by the late hour (Lars genuinely wondered if he slept), asked questions of each candidate in turn about how they might act as Vice President, and what they considered to be a legislative priority. Lars leaned over to Marcia.

“So, he’s already decided?” he whispered.

“Apparently so.”

“Who’s it going to be, then?”

She didn’t say anything, just shrugging.

“You don’t know?” he said, still careful to not talk over Kei, who was giving her own speech now.

“No idea,” she whispered. “One of them, anyway.”

“He wouldn’t pick” – Lars pointed at the back of Panagos’ head, a few rows below them – “would he? It should be someone from another Earth.”

Again she shrugged, and put her finger to her lips.

The first half of the candidates took over an hour to deliver their speeches and take their questions. There was a short recess before the second half, which was to include Sofia. Lars looked over and noticed that she had set up a flip chart, apparently intending to use some visual aids in her speech. Marcia was yawning hard.

“I’m going to bed,” she said finally. “Let me know when he picks someone, if he even does it tonight.”

Lars nodded. He had no intention of doing the same; he would see this through. “Sleep well,” he said, as she descended the stairs and opened the chamber doors. Coming in through them was Matthelm with cups of coffee, one of which Lars gratefully received. “Thank you,” he said to Matthelm, who just nodded shyly. Lars watched him climb the tall stairs with his precarious tray of cups and deliver one to the King, who took it without a word. He remembered that it wasn’t so long ago that that was his job – delivering coffee to the King during times of great decision-making. He again reflected on the strange journey that had led him up here into space, and once again that invasive question lodged itself into his brain: Why me?

This time, though, something unusual happened; the question didn’t go away. It stayed there as he sipped, burrowing deeper in the silence, and he found it harder to ignore. The recess was ending, and the Speaker was calling on Sai to deliver a speech. Lars had him totally tuned out as he tried to figure out what was driving his thoughts.

He had been a lowly engineer – he had been in the room by sheer luck. The King had told him to leave, and when he changed his mind and invited Lars back he had assumed that the King had seen something in him. But how could that be true, if all he was good for now was simple messenger tasks? The King had seen no talent in him, he had only chosen him because he happened to be there that night. He happened to have set up the meeting, brought the coffee, and glimpsed the documents –

It hit him like a truck. The thought physically staggered him, and he dropped his coffee mug on the ground, where it smashed and broke the peace. Sai had not yet begun speaking, but now they and everyone else turned to look at him. Coffee and ceramic shards were pooling around his feet, and he was paralysed.

“Scion Ariti,” the President asked, “are you quite alright?”

Lars realised he was shaking. He pulled himself together and thought faster than he had ever thought. Before he knew it he was standing, walking down the stairs, when suddenly he tripped and fell. Sai caught him and righted him with precision. “you okay there, buddy?”

Lars shook his head. “I… you…” He didn’t know what he was thinking, but a great realisation had come over him and he needed to say it. Everyone was looking concerned except the King, who was sipping his own coffee implacably.

“What is it?” the King said. He sounded mildly irritated by the interruption.

“I was just thinking,” he stammered, “about why I was here. Why you allowed me on board the station. You clearly don’t like me, Your Glory, and you don’t think I’m a valuable addition to the team, so why?”

“That’s nonsense…” the King started, but Lars somehow found the power to interrupt him.

“And I just figured it out, right now. I don’t know if everyone else already had, but I doubt it. I think they think you need them up here – it’s just me who’s here for convenience’s sake, isn’t it?”

“Convenience?” the King said, getting testy now.

“Scion Ariti, it would do to remember to whom you talk.” Panagos said from behind him. Lars didn’t even turn around.

“They don’t know,” was all he said. He half-expected everyone to interrupt him again, but apparently he had the floor now. Even Sai had stepped back to their seat.

“They don’t know,” he repeated, his brain moving at a million miles an hour, trying to get his thoughts in order as they whirled and fit and rearranged themselves. Finally, only when he was absolutely certain he was right (more certain, perhaps, than anything else in his life), he said it.

“You never told the people back home about the void. You never announced that the other Earths were out there. You kept it a secret from all of them. That night, before you recruited me, when Panagos and Lady Kouris told you about the signals they’d found, you didn’t want it getting out. So you brought me in.” He jabbed his finger at the King – what was he doing? – and kept speaking. “But then it became bigger, and you had to bring other people in. You kept the team small, because… because you didn’t want it getting out until you were ready, that’s what you said. But I think either something changed, or you had absolutely no intention of letting it get out that there were other Earths.”

There were shouts from behind him but his eyes stayed fixed on the King, who watched him rage. “And even when we agreed to join the Parliament, you didn’t tell the public that you would be going. You didn’t tell them about the Parliament at all. I bet they all think you’re sitting in your Palace right now, like you’ve been for the last year!” His voice was getting higher now. “You didn’t trust them with the truth. Didn’t believe that they could handle it. Didn’t want them to know that there were worlds out there that you hadn’t conquered. Or maybe you didn’t even think about it that hard – maybe you just kept it a secret because you wanted to.

“I never even told my family, because you had ordered me not to. And I was so terrified of you – we were all so scared, because we’d heard the stories about people disappearing from the Palace. For saying the wrong thing, for disobeying or offending you. We all felt special, and didn’t want to disappoint you. But we didn’t realise” – he whirled around and looked at everyone else – “we didn’t realise we’d disappeared ourselves. Where do our families think we are? Who writes those letters that you say are from our family? Why do we have no team back home? I know why. It’s because if there was, you would have to tell them the truth.

“You couldn’t bear not having control over the situation. That’s why you came here yourself, and why you forced us all to go too. Look at us – our record is pathetic. Our qualifications are nil. Yes, we have Lords and Ladies, but if you had really tried to pull together the best team possible it wouldn’t look anything like this. There’s only one reason I would be on board this station – to keep up the lie.”

Breathing hard, Lars finally stopped for a moment. He looked up at the King, craning his neck into the purple light above, and the void beyond. Everyone around him was dead silent. His voice didn’t waver as he spoke again. “You are pathetic. A liar. You treat me like I’m worthless, but I figured you out. I did it – you are no King.”

The King stood, swaying slightly. He opened his mouth to speak, and instead coughed. A glob of black stuff flew from his mouth, down onto the chamber floor, and landed on the hem of Lars’ new jumper. He looked down, as though in a trance, and inspected the strange expulsion. The King, high above him, was convulsing and coughing more violently, trying to get out a word. There was a gasp from the benches, and the Speaker jumped out of the lower chair and ran behind it, up the stairs.

He was too late, as the King doubled over in one last hacking desperate cough and fell from his high vantage point. He landed with a heavy thud, flat against his back on the chamber floor, his hand outstretched.

Towards Lars.

Lars didn’t move as people screamed and jumped up behind him. A steady trickle of blood emerged out of the King’s mouth, and he moved no longer.