Chapter 3: The Advocates
“This is highly irregular, de Medici. What would the rest of the Enclave say if they knew?”
“But they won’t know unless you tell them, D’Argent. And why would a clever man like yourself even contemplate doing such a rash thing like that?”
“This goes against everything we’ve built, everything we’ve supported…”
“Everything you’ve supported, my dear Nuada. And besides, we’re not doing anything illicit, are we? For all anyone knows, this is simply a chat between friends.” To emphasize his point, the First tier Advocate nodded his head pleasantly to the couple that strolled past, a picture of civility and nonchalance.
“Hmph.”
Nuada D’Argent glanced at his companion as they made their way through the airy walkways of First tier Plaza. It was a clear summer day, early enough in the season that the artificial ozone layer was able to filter out most of the sun’s disastrous ultraviolets. The sky was a gentle cerulean above them, the grass a vibrant green. Nuada never failed to think of early nineteenth century Impressionists whenever he came aboveside to visit.
In contrast to the serene surroundings, Giancarlo de Medici was a study in harsh planes and angles. He towered over his portly counterpart by a good sixteen centimeters, slashing scenery as his thin frame knifed past. His aquiline nose hawked over a thin-lipped mouth and his sharp cheekbones jutted prominently from a pale face. Even de Medici’s eyes called forth images of splintered glass, shard-like chips of obsidian that rarely showed emotion. Clean-shaven, hair shorn short in aristo fashion and coolly elegant in impeccably-cut robes, Giancarlo de Medici was a formidable man and was perhaps the most dangerous in all of history to have donned the mantle of First tier Enclave Advocate.
An unobtrusive beep interrupted Nuada’s contemplation of his sometime adversary and current co-conspirator. De Medici paused in their stroll and held up an index finger to indicate a call coming through. He closed his eyes and ‘pathed directly to the Hub, accepting the transmission. Nuada graciously walked a few meters away to give the man privacy, even as he secretly envied de Medici’s Empath abilities.
“She has him. They’re at the Academy.” De Medici approached the Second tier Advocate after only a handful of minutes.
“She caught him yesterday?”
“Last night.”
“But the chutes don’t activate until noon.” Nuada glanced at the chrono on his wrist to make sure he wasn’t mistaken. “How…?”
“Nuada, my friend, there are secrets even you, as Academy president, are not privy to. Suffice to say, le Freya has our guest happily ensconced in your demesnes. I wouldn’t doubt that they are currently taking liberties with your choice vintages as we speak.”
Nuada spluttered incoherently at the thought. If there was one thing the usually ascetic man indulged in it was his private stock of wines. Considered contraband for most due to the rarity of land to grow the grapes on, wine was reserved exclusively for the tables of the First Families. Nuada’s owning a bottle, let alone an entire cellar, was tantamount to high treason. It was only his friendship with de Medici and some covert finagling that kept him from being thrown in the gaol.
“Calm yourself, my friend. A jest only, to be sure. I doubt that Ikeda is in any mood to celebrate at the moment. Speaking of celebration, however, how goes it with your discovery?”
At the mention of his protégé, Nuada immediately forgot his wines and beamed proudly.
“Shinobu is doing exceptionally well. His ‘path ratios rival even the most purestrain of aristos.”
“Yes, yes. I’ve seen the stats you sent earlier. That was not what I meant. I want to know if you’ve apprised him of our little venture yet.”
“Well, actually, we’ve been so excited over the tests that I…”
“Nuada, you know as well as I that our plans need to be executed in the most expedient manner as possible. It’s difficult enough having one unwilling player. I need to know if Tezuka will be ready when the time comes.”
“Oh, I have no doubt,” Nuada replied, his eyes taking on an uncharacteristically steely sheen. “Shinobu will be operative in the week we had allotted for preparation and debriefing. You just have to do your part in the meantime.”
“You mean the Enclave? Do you really foresee any dissenters? Aside from that irritating little gnat, of course.” De Medici led them down the spiral that made up the center of the Plaza. It was less populated here, the chest-high hedges effectively ensuring privacy as the two men wound through the circular path.
“That irritating gnat is still Third tier Advocate, Giancarlo.”
“Loki Swift is an insignificant City dweller, a popinjay so puffed up with his own self-importance that he would argue he was a woman if it suited his purposes. All the Enclave knows this. I can deal with Swift’s protests, wearying though that may be. Besides,” de Medici indulged in a rare smile that, rather than putting Nuada at ease, only filled him with trepidation, “by the time the rest of our brethren realize what we’ve set in motion, the key players will be out of their reach.”
“Is the crew assembled? Provisions? A trip of that magnitude…they’d have to be equipped to survive at least nine months in space.”
“The gears are in motion. All is taken care of. If I didn’t know better, my friend, I’d think you were stalling for time.” De Medici kept walking but flicked a glance at his companion out of the corner of his eye.
“And if I didn’t know better, my friend, I’d think you were trying to put me on the defensive because you’re keeping something from me.” Nuada matched the man’s even tone.
“Touché.”
Nuada chuckled softly and de Medici snorted, both reacting to the adversarial camaraderie that characterized their friendship. Neither one would give an inch, of course; they would both play their cards close to their chests. The two Advocates were wise enough to recognize that men in power such as they did well to keep a few secrets from the other, friends though they may be.
They reached the center of the spiral then, pausing to admire the fountain of Pallas Athene located in the heart of the pseudo maze. Nuada thought of the paradox the goddess represented: war and wisdom. But perhaps not so much a paradox? After all, hadn’t mankind waged war throughout history because of wisdom gained or wisdom withheld? What a fitting place to plot what could possibly lead to the end of their society.
The hefty Second tier Advocate sat down wearily on one of the stone benches surrounding the fountain, surreptitiously wiping at his brow with the corner of his robe’s sleeve. He was no longer a young man, and his life at the Academy did not exactly call for hard labor. He was out of shape. If this all came down to war, Nuada knew he would be the first to fall. He didn’t think he could count on de Medici for aid. Nuada stroked his graying beard nervously. He had others. But would they be enough?
“So you say everything’s in order and once again, we come full circle to me.”
“Aye.”
“And to Shinobu.”
“Aye. Your unbelievable discovery. The Academy’s best-kept secret. It’s ironic, really.” De Medici joined him on the bench.
“What is?”
“That you concern yourself with appeasing the Enclave so much yet you have been heading a project that would have them stone you for heresy at the very least.”
“It’s unorthodox, yes. But if they only saw the charts, they’d forget all about tier hierarchy! Why, the neurists have told me that Shinobu’s charts read higher than your best Empath by ten percent!”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“But you said you read my report. It’s all in there!”
De Medici paused, caught in his flagrant lie. If he were honest, he really didn’t give a damn about Shinobu Tezuka and his supposedly astounding abilities. All he expected from Nuada’s protégé was enough Empath skills to complete the mission successfully. After it was all over, the off-worlder could go back to being the nonentity he had been, for all de Medici cared. Still, Nuada seemed to care for the little manling so it would be bad form to antagonize his peer too soon. Appeasement was in order.
“I must confess: I merely skimmed the data. You know we Empaths don’t bother reading,” de Medici was apologetic. “It’s a sad commentary on society, I know, so don’t get on your soapbox, Nuada. But we have relied on our Empath skills for a long time, even before the Collapse. It’s a very difficult habit to break. And when you send me these data streams on my palmscreen…ah, too many words!”
Nuada was about to make a nasty comment about the illiteracy rate amongst First tiers, especially First Family members, when he realized that pointing it out would be like tipping his hand. Firsters were notorious for their distinct lack of interest in anything not instantaneous, reading being one of them. This aversion was what kept them so aloof from everyone belowside and it had its definite advantages. It was how Nuada had smuggled his wines into the Academy, First tier Guardians being really lax when reading order dockets.
But at times like these, when expediency is key…he even stressed so himself! How could he not read the damned reports? Sometimes, I could just throttle the man!
Nuada had just about decided to indulge in his ire and scold his friend anyway when de Medici stunned him by falling off the bench, his head clutched in both hands. He tumbled over so quietly, so gracefully. But his face was frozen in a rictus of pain, and the seriousness of the situation was not lost to the Second tier Advocate.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Nuada knelt by his friend’s side, genuine fear spiraling in his stomach.
The water from the fountain played counterpoint to de Medici’s rasping breathing.
“Giancarlo! Should I call a medic?” Nuada made to leave but was stopped by a hand clutching his robes.
“Nuada…you insufferable…academic…” de Medici managed a rueful chuckle even as he winced in pain. “You were…right. I should have…read those...reports.”
“What are you talking about?”
“That, my friend, was what we Empaths call recoil feedback. Help me…?” de Medici gestured to the bench.
“That sounds ugly. And pretty painful, if it made you so weak you’re asking for help,” Nuada cracked, his normal aplomb shaken so much that he dispensed with tact and fell back on bluntness instead.
De Medici glared at the implied chink in his armor but was too spent to put up much of a fight. Wearily rubbing at his temples, he offered an explanation: “Your untrained Empath spiked a message.”
“Spiked? Recoil feedback? Giancarlo, this is all Greek to me.”
“So you read your neurists reports without actually understanding them?” De Medici gently needled. Then he bowed conciliatorily at Nuada’s start of affront. “Forgive me. That was uncalled for. Let me try to clarify: Empaths are trained at birth to control their neural waves. We’re taught not to “shout” because it fries the synapses of those within a two-meter radius of us. If you’re a high-level Empath, you can inadvertently kill someone with merely a thought. Are you following this?”
“I’m not a child, Giancarlo.”
“True. As I was saying, then: purestrains are trained at birth. And the halfstrains we discover early enough – they usually reveal their abilities at adolescence. Although it’s more difficult for them, they learn to master control over their brain waves as well. But once in a while, we stumble on a rogue Empath, someone either too old to learn the techniques, or simply too unstable emotionally to handle the input from non-Empath folk who have no control over their thoughts.
Imagine the pain these rogues go through. It’s similar to being forced to listen to hundreds of thousands of audiodecks at the same time, with no way to turn down the volume or focus on one channel. The Empaths who can’t control their synapses go insane. Or they kill themselves. Or they spike and then they kill others.”
“Spiking is like shouting, then?” Nuada tried to make sense of the information.
“You could say that. But because it’s not directed at any one person, like a “shout” would be, the spike is much less discriminate. Depending on the intensity of the rogue’s emotion and the level of his capabilities, a spike could penetrate even the most experienced Empath’s thought shields and overload synapses. When that happens, any Empath within a four-meter radius gets a taste of that power unleashed and thus, recoil feedback.”
“And you have some rogues around here now?”
“No, we don’t. The last rogue we dealt with killed herself before she could cause further harm to her family.”
“Then...”
“The only untrained Empath I know of is your protégé, Nuada.”
“Shinobu? But he’s at the Academy on Second tier! That’s nearly 600 meters down!”
De Medici looked directly at his friend. For the first time in the nearly twenty years of friendship between them, Nuada saw fear lacing the man’s dark eyes as the same realization hit him too.
“Yes, he is.”
Nuada swallowed convulsively. “But he was doing so well! He had control over his synapses! We threw every test we could at him and he handled each one magnificently!”
“Well, perhaps your boy is not as adept as you think. Either that,” de Medici raised a hand against his friend’s protest, “or something happened belowside, Nuada. Something so traumatic that it sent Tezuka over the edge.”
“But what could possibly be so harrowing that would make Shinobu lose control like that?”
“I think you need to find that out.”