Liberty

By John Arkham

As the government of the Dominion tightens its grip on the people, the remaining followers of Saturnine struggle to survive. War takes them from planet to planet, desperate gambits misfire, and an old enemy lies in wait. The solar system becomes a battleground for Sorcerers of the left and right hand paths. Book II of the Dominion series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Arkham
• Release date: Jul 13, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005209100

Book preview

Part One:

Jump

Chapter One

Dr. Tiburine! Dr. Tiburine!

Maximian Rhodes was insistent, but his professor, his favorite at the University of Metropolis, was not paying attention, just staring at the telnet screen.

On the screen was what the class had asked for, a visual of the Prince of Pallas exiting his elegant white cruiser. But Max had a question about tonight’s homework and he would receive an answer, yes, he would receive an answer.

Yet Dr. Tiburine was frozen in place, and as Max sat there looking at her, she appeared almost afraid, almost mortified, like dread and terror was taking over her, molting into outright horror.

And then, as the Prince of Pallas left and walked, hand in hand, with Consul Gaius Marius back into the halls of the Capitol Building, Dr. Tiburine turned and ran out of the classroom, leaving her bewildered students alone.

There was scattered, nervous laughter as they sat there, as the telnet screen switched to the regular news, the anchor Val suddenly changing the topic to the strange disease that was sweeping the therion herds in Pallas.

Where did she go? said someone, a girl. It was a question that was on everyone’s mind, but a question that would not be easily answered.

What is the rule? she went on. Fifteen minutes and then we consider class canceled?

Yeah, I think that’s it, said Max’s friend Phio, who lived in the dormitory next to his.

The telnet blared on and on; scattered noises from the students turned to hushed chatter, hushed chatter to serious conversation, and then, one by one, the students in Dr. Raven Tiburine’s class began to leave.

This was the last class for Max today, and it was a long weekend. Who knew how he would end up spending the next few days?

Max! He turned to Phio. His friend, hailing from the southern reaches of Metropolis, was wearing as always the latest stylish brand of clothing. His hair he had dyed a bright neon green, and his girlfriend Sierra was right next to him. Together, green-haired and blue-haired, they were like a walking billboard, a human version of those advertisements you see glowing on the side of a skyrise.

We’re heading to the Dragon’s Den, Phio said. Do you want to come with?

No, Max said, before he’d even given it much thought.

The Dragon’s Den was a popular bar, one located at the top of one of the Capitoline’s highest skyrises. It was bound to be raucous and noisy, and give Max more trouble than it was worth.

Are you sure? said Phio. The drinks are on me.

No, Max said. No, no. That’s all right. I’ve got to get going. I’ve got things to do.

Suit yourself, said Sierra. And together, Max’s two friends turned and left.

~

His room in his dormitory was like a bleak prison cell, with cold white tile floors and cold white metal walls. But he had made it his own, and he had put a rug on the floor. In a corner of his room was his prized possession, his computer, which he had outfitted with the most advanced processor, the latest video receptor, and of course, lightning-fast access to the Net.

Greeting him at the door was the robot he had designed, the robot that he had programmed to clean his room, to go by sucking up dirt and dust and crumbs and debris. It was halfway up his knee, propelled this way and that by wheels, and as it whirred by, it played a prerecorded sound: Hello, Max.

Hello, Android. He could design an advanced machine like this, but one thing he couldn’t do was come up with a clever name.

Max slung his backpack to the ground and saw that the floor was spotless; Android had done its job. And so, hopping on to his computer, he could see it was only 6:30 PM and that since the college class had been inexplicably canceled by Dr. Tiburine’s mood swing, the night was very young.

His receiver began to buzz and the face and name that came up was Phio. Sol! he cursed. He didn’t want to go to the Dragon’s Den, he didn’t want to drink Palladian wine or aranjo bitters, he didn’t want to stagger home and wake up with a splitting headache the next day. And so he let it buzz and buzz and buzz until it was completely quiet and forgotten.

His computer was turned on, the screen was up, and when he opened the Net explorer the news was prominently displayed.

Prince of Pallas arrives, said one headline in bold text. And by that text was a picture of the prince, a young man with brownish hair and piercing eyes.

Saturninism is dead, read a headline beneath it, an opinion article.

And up, popping above the mail icon, Max could see he had an unread message.

~

IMPORTANT – DO NOT DELETE read the header. But Max would be the judge of that.

The sender had a funny name—Anonymous1.

And when he opened he began to read the fine print, the text that was penned in this digital letter.

Maximian Rhodes: You have come to the attention of a foreign faction which has need of your skills. The consequences of your refusal are nothing less than the destruction of the System itself. The consequences of your acceptance are the rescue of the System and everything you have come to know and love.

Should you decide to accept this request, meet us at the Dragon’s Den, tonight, at approximately 6:45 PM.

We look forward to seeing you.

Sincerely, the Servants of the Architect

What a ploy, what desperation.

And like that his receiver began to buzz again, his receiver with the picture, sure enough, of Phio, and his name figuring prominently on the screen. And almost laughing, Max picked up the receiver.

Max, Phio said on the other line. Max! There are half-credit aleethi sours!

If you’re desperate enough to create a mail account just for this, Max said, then I guess I’ll humor you. I’ll be there in a little while.

~

The walls of the Dragon’s Den seemed to pulse with the deafening music, even long before Max entered its double doors. Up ahead, the moon was veiled in clouds; it was red. A lunar eclipse had been predicted and that prediction hadn’t disappointed. Yet as Max entered, he couldn’t help but feel a growing unease, a growing sense that he was walking into something he shouldn’t walk into.

The music was deafening, pounding, pulsing. The music was so loud the notes were almost indistinguishable, and every few seconds the lights in the bar would change from pink to purple to green, and then back to pink again. Waitresses were walking by with platters of aleethi sours. In the corner of the bar, there was a large herd of revelers dancing wildly to the music.

This is why I didn’t come, Max thought. This is why I didn’t want to be here.

The noise, the sound, they all created a deafening cacophony, an overloaded stimulation that Max wanted no part of.

And like that, someone was right in front of him, a man with wispy white hair and blue shark-like eyes, carrying a phase pistol gingerly in his hand. Was he really being robbed, openly, in the Dragon’s Den? Was he really being robbed, and none of the waitresses and bar workers were doing anything about it? What a strange world he had found himself in, the world of Metropolis’s night life. But there was something this thug didn’t know… Max was a master in bio-kinesis, the most ancient Terran martial art, and underneath one of the sleeves of his shirt was a sigil tattoo, the mark of someone who had achieved master rank.

With a sharp kick he sent the phase pistol flying into the air and it went off, blasting a hole in the roof; with a sharp slam of the fist Max, decked his attacker and sent him forcefully to the ground.

By now, pandemonium had engulfed the Dragon’s Den. Off in the distance were Phio and Sierra, aleethi sours in hand, gawking in horror.

And as Max looked down, seeing he had just immobilized not a thug but an Inquisitor, an agent of the government, what happened next did not surprise him but it horrified him, his hands being jerked behind him and slammed with cuffs, the Dragoons filling the open spaces of the Dragon’s Den, and Phio and Sierra turning tail and sprinting into hiding.

What had he done? He had thought he was being robbed; he had thought the Inquisitor was a criminal, a common bandit, and thinking that, he had disabled him with a punishing strike. And as he was led away, out of the Dragon’s Den into the thick summer air, and he saw the lights of a police hovercar, he found he was in a state of shock, unable to believe or really comprehend what had happened, unable to understand what had occurred. All he could think of at that time was the request from Phio and Sierra, and the strange letter he had received, the strange letter that had led him here.

~

In the hovercar, he still felt like what he’d been through was a dream, that what he had done—whatever had occurred—was something he had just imagined or fantasized about. But as he was taken away, he looked at his hands, and he realized that yes, he had truly just disabled an Inquisitor, that yes, he had committed an assault, that a term in Carceri was no longer an unthinkable outcome. And at the thought of Carceri, he could not help but feel his legs turn to jelly. Few survived even a five-year term there, so arduous was it. And so, in the hovercar, he began to panic, to feel his breathing grow rapid, to feel a fluttering in his gut, a wild terror that was growing in him, which he could not control.

And his receiver began to buzz, and he saw a message appear on its screen, a message formed like words shimmering in water: Jump.

Who had sent this to him? Who was that cruel? The sender was unclear, but the only person capable of knowing where he was was Phio and Sierra. Would his friends turn on him like that? He couldn’t imagine.

Another message appeared, wavering on the screen of his receiver, a message in bold black print: Jump, or we will not be able to help you.

We. He thought of the letter, sent by Anonymous1. He wondered if someone was plotting to kill him, but no, he would not jump from a hovercar and fall thousands of feet to his death. He wouldn’t do it.

Jump! came another message, wavering on the screen, but the hovercar was slowing down, and up ahead Max could see the limestone walls and marble columns, the mounting towers of the Mandate of Justice headquarters.

And as the hovercar landed on the landing pad, a strange emotion assailed him, regret—yes, regret that he had not jumped.

Chapter Two

The doors to the hovercar opened and the summer air was thick, like a blanket.

On the skyrise opposite the Mandate of Justice was an advertisement in glowing white colors, a woman looking seductively while biting a peach and at the bottom, the words Flaminius Hair Care Products. A flock of roaches was flying by, millions soaring through the air. The lights of Metropolis confused them; Dr. Tiburine had told him that their brains associated the bright advertisements with the lunations of the moon.

And as Max was coaxed outside, he thought of Dr. Tiburine. If he hadn’t signed up for summer courses, he wouldn’t be here, here, at the very edge of being sentenced to a term in Carceri.

Step out, Mr. Rhodes, said one of the Dragoons, and Max, unable to resist, obeyed, and again that strange feeling of regret returned, regret that he hadn’t done what the message told him, regret that he hadn’t flung himself thousands of feet to the Undercity.

But as he stood there, and twitched, and stretched his body, he looked down from the landing pad into the abyss below the skyrises, and he realized he was glad to be alive. The laws of gravity applied to Max, no matter what message buzzed in on his receiver.

And so he followed the Dragoon toward the office of the Mandate of Justice’s double doors, past the seated statues of Capitolinus