The Right of Way & The Will and Wonders

The Right of Way

And The Wills and Wonders

By Brad G. Patterson

ONE -The Chancellery

"What if they find it?"

Chancellor Vos remained silent, his gaze fixed on the sprawling sea of lights that shimmered faintly beneath the murky veil of smog. The city stretched endlessly below, a labyrinthine expanse cloaked in filth and flickering luminescence. The balcony where he and his subordinate stood jutted out from the colossal structure, suspended a staggering one thousand three hundred and ninety meters above the teeming, smog-choked streets--a vantage point that offered both a commanding view and an oppressive reminder of the depths below. At this altitude, the night sky unfolded in its full glory, an infinite tapestry of shimmering stars and galaxies unbroken by atmospheric obstructions. The twin moons hung in the inky black sky like two gargantuan eyes. A brisk breeze made the hairs on the back of his neck stand briefly.

"Then we shall deal with it accordingly." Vos turned as he spoke. He was a tall man, but not a big man. His ritualistically shaved head gleamed in the moonlight. He still wore his official robes of electric violet, though his high collar was unbuttoned to reveal the stark white undergarment.

He glanced back over the city. "So long as they remain unaware of it, then we should not worry ourselves about it any longer." He drew in a breath and smiled. Sub-Chancellor Aymin had learnt a long time ago that a darkness lay behind that particular smile. An uneasiness crept into his mind as he left the chancellor on the balcony and headed for the bookshelf.. But he pushed it away. The Chancellor had always acted in the goodwill of the people. Always.

Chancellor Vos turned his piercing gaze onto Aymin as he strode into the sprawling chambers. Aymin lingered near the towering bookshelf, his fingers hesitating over the spines of countless volumes, each one a portal to untold knowledge. The sheer abundance of choice left him adrift, uncertain which treasure to claim from his master's vast collection.His eyes came to rest on The Right of Way by Rolin Tordenson. He'd read it some time ago in his early years on the Council and had found it somewhat unsettling. That was nearly twenty years ago, and his time with the council, and Chancellor Vos in particular, had taught him what he would need to be comfortable with in order to retain his life.

Chancellor Vos observed Aymin with a faint flicker of interest as the younger man hesitated, his hand hovering indecisively over the rows of books. "You should read it again, Aymin," Vos said, his tone carrying the weight of suggestion rather than command, as if testing whether the deputy would heed his subtle guidance.

How did I know I was looking at it? Aymin did well to disguise his shock. The man had a sense which Aymin could not explain, no matter how hard he tried.

"Perhaps you are correct, Chancellor." Aymin said. He pulled the book from the shelf and slipped it under his arm. He turned to the Chancellor, who had reached his gigantic desk. Everything was large about this man. The office, the ministry, the desk, the man. The Councillor was old, much older than himself, but also terrifyingly intimidating.

Somewhere outside in the distance, an aircraft's roar could be heard fading into the distance as the doppler effect stretched the sound into a moan. It was coming into land at the capital aero port no doubt. At this altitude it was alway so quiet, except for the occasional gust of wind. Nothing but the wind and a few high-flying breeds of bird were ever heard.

Chancellor Vos watched like a bird of prey from behind his desk as Sub-Chancellor Aymin drew nearer and dropped into one of the two chairs facing the broad, dark wood desk. He had chosen a second book. From the look of the blue leather binding it was likely Will and Wonders by Ayl Umber. He smirked. It seemed his protege was going soft in his advancing age. He would have to do something about that some day. But not today. Today was a day to discuss something much more pressing.

"Has there been any development on the investigation?" he asked, his voice calm but edged with the weight of expectation. His thumb traced a slow line along the edge of the glass display panel embedded in his desk, the motion a rare sign of his simmering impatience. Earlier that month, a bombing at a factory in East Messos had shattered more than just steel and stone. Seventeen human workers had perished in the blast, their lives snuffed out in an instant, while several dozen others clung to survival, their bodies broken and futures uncertain. The memory of the carnage lingered, a grim specter that demanded resolution.

"There have been reports of a possible Sarcee involvement. Though we have not heard from them at all. So, it seems that the 'report' may have been falsified."

"I am aware of this." His tone was impatient. It was not like his subordinate to be this dull.

"Uh, yes. Aside from that there has been very little progress in identifying the culprit or culprits." Aymin paused for a moment to gauge the Chancellor's mood before continuing. "There is the possibility of an Arti involvement. Since the rebellion was put down last year, they have been becoming more and more outspoken. Particularly about their use in the factories and mines."

The Chancellor's eyes darted in his direction burning with subdued rage. "I don't care about Arties. We made them and we own them. If they rebel again, I will put them down again. Closed. If we did not rely on their labour, I'd have them all disassembled and turned into fucking ornaments!" There would be no discussing this point any further with him. Aymin sat back in his seat and waited for the Chancellor to address him.

"Go on." Chancellor Vos finally said. His mood was greatly calmed now. He smiled as he spoke, though even in the low light his eyes betrayed something much darker. If the eyes were truly the windows to the soul, something was lurking inside of this man he did not want to meet.

"That's all that I have to report thus far, Chancellor." Aymin said as he rested his hands on the books which lay across his thighs. For a brief moment the title of the second book became visible, and Chancellor Vos smiled internally, satisfied at his own tiny triumph. He watched his subordinate from behind smiling eyes like a wolf stalking its prey. He wants to ask me but he is afraid to push the topic. The silence which hung in the room was delightful.

"Go on. Spit it out."

Aymin started. The Chancellor had spoken so forcefully and had caught him completely by surprise. It was his way of play. The older man loved to play on the discomfort of his underlings. This was one of the very first things he had learned about Vos.

It took Aymin a moment to gather his thoughts and realise what Vos was pushing at. He considered feigning ignorance. But thought better of it.

"The Planet. What if they find it." Aymin asked.

"Like I said, we will deal with it accordingly."

"If I may. How will we deal with it?"

Vos leaned forward and laid his hands down on the desk. His predatory gaze was fixed on Aymin. "We ensure that they do not make it back here to tell their tales."

Aymin did not feel comfortable with this course of action. He did not like the waste of life. Any life. The Chancellor, however, seemed to have little compunction about wiping it out. That was, it seemed, how he had managed to stay in power for over seventy years. The ability to stay in power was a gift not unique to the Chancellor, but it was a core teaching of The Way. Which is why, when he came into power, The Chancellor had declared that The Right of Way would be mandatory reading to all the people of Renayan. It was also how the great Megacity-State had become the chief power on the planet under his rule. No one dared defy him, so long as they had been indoctrinated into 'the way'. So long as the people feared him, he would retain the power.

There was only one thing that Aymin had noticed that managed to really get under the Chancellor's skin. And that was the potential to lose his stranglehold on the people. That above all things. In recent years the Chancellor had become suddenly aware of his own mortality, and feared that the Chancellery may fall to ruin after his passing. He had no one in whom he truly had confidence in to follow in his footsteps. This too was not unique to him. But rather it was a weakness found in all tyrants and autocrats across space and time.

TWO - Myro

"The traffic at this hour is ridiculous!"

Myro Gallin slammed her hand down on the steering wheel, the sharp sound echoing through the cramped cab. Her cheeks flushed crimson as her eyes darted to the rearview mirror, catching the startled, wide-eyed look of her passenger.

"Is everything okay?" the man asked cautiously.

He had the air of a mild-mannered suburbanite, the kind who always carried an aura of polite restraint. Hory Gimmons was from the Mischenne Suburbs, and tonight he was her only fare--a disappointing start to an already frustrating shift.

"Just peachy, Mr. Gimmons. Just peachy." Myro forced a grin that was too broad, too bright, and entirely insincere.

Hory Gimmons wasn't much to look at in the back seat--a wiry figure in a rumpled suit, his demeanor exuding a kind of meekness that was borderline pitiable. But he was consistent, and in her line of work, reliability counted for a lot. For three years, he'd been a loyal fare, almost always traveling between the glittering chaos of the Center City District and the comparative serenity of Mischenne.

Most nights, the route was a grueling two-hour slog, winding through some of Renayan's grimmest quarters before reaching Mischenne's rarefied air. Mischenne was an anomaly in the city--a refuge where the skyline dipped below one hundred stories, and a full quarter of the district was dedicated to lush, well-kept parks. For Myro, it was like a different world, one she glimpsed but never truly inhabited
The megalopolis stretched an astonishing one thousand kilometers in every direction, a sprawling, circular monument to human ambition and ingenuity. At its heart lay the Center City District, the pulsing hub of the metropolis, encircled by vast rings of life and labor. Radiating outward like the spokes of a colossal wheel were the suburbs, divided into four massive wedges, each sliced neatly into three distinct partitions.

On the outermost edge lay the green suburbs, havens like Mischenne, where parks and low-rise buildings offered a rare glimpse of tranquility. Closer in were the industrial sectors, a relentless grind of factories and warehouses that fueled the city's insatiable appetite. But wedged uneasily between these industries and the Center City District was the infamous Red District--a shadowy belt of sin and lawlessness.
It was the Red District that made Myro uneasy, especially the section known as Red Three. Among the four quadrants of the district, it had the worst reputation, infamous for its rampant crime and the sordid dealings that thrived in its shadowed alleys. The name "Red" wasn't just a nod to the neon haze that bathed its streets, but a warning, whispered with unease across the city.
Yet, Myro had her reasons to brave it. Mr. Gimmons was one of them. His route cut straight through Red Three, but he was dependable, a steady source of income in an otherwise erratic line of work. And he paid well--well enough for her to swallow her nerves and navigate the treacherous roads that carved through the city's darkest heart.
"May I ask you something?" Mr. Gimmons said, his voice hesitant as he carefully removed one of his eyeballs, holding it in his hand like an artifact. With a practiced motion, he wiped it with a small medicloth he had pulled from his pocket.
Myro glanced at him through the rearview mirror, her eyebrows furrowing in mild curiosity. "Yeah. Sure. We got time. So it seems."

The traffic had become unbearable, the flow of vehicles grinding to a halt. One of the controllers must have nodded off again, forgetting to switch the lights. The signal for her lane to turn left had been stubbornly red for what felt like an eternity--at least ten minutes by her count.
"I couldn't help but notice that your family name is Gallin," Mr. Gimmons continued, as he carefully slid his artificial eye back into its socket with a soft, wet click.
Myro's gaze flicked to him in the mirror, her expression unreadable. "What of it?" she asked, a note of suspicion creeping into her voice.
He met her eyes through the reflection, his tone growing more deliberate. "Would you perhaps be related to Sar Feelus Gallin... the explorer?"
The name hit Myro like a cold gust. She stiffened, her grip tightening on the wheel. Her heart skipped a beat.
Mr. Gimmons was a small man, soft-spoken, with an almost frail appearance that gave the impression of vulnerability. But there was something in his eyes--hard, calculating--that belied the gentle facade. Myro had long suspected that his meek demeanor was nothing more than a carefully constructed ruse, designed to lull his opponents into underestimating him. The illusion of weakness made others drop their guard, giving him the upper hand when the moment was right.

Thankfully, Myro wasn't one to fall for such tricks. She kept up with the newsreels, and Gimmons' name had surfaced time and again--whispered in connection with major business deals, shady governmental maneuvers, and more than a few backroom power plays. He was no small-time player, no innocent suburban lawyer. She would need to tread carefully around him.

"He is my father," Myro replied, her voice steady but guarded. The truth hung in the air, heavy and taut, as the name of Sar Feelus Gallin settled between them like a long-forgotten ghost.

The light ahead thankfully turned a bright green. Not a moment too soon. Myro detested the fact that she was related to one of the most well-known men in Renayan. She had wanted to register with the Transit Board under a different name, but the Vehicle Registration Authority did not accept assumed names. It made no difference if the name was altered legally or not. Therefore she had to work under her birth name. Most fairs did not care who was transporting them, so long as they got to where they were going in one piece. Mr Gimmons was a different sort of fair. A bloody nosy one at that.

Gimmons did not press the issue further. He, it seemed, was quite satisfied with what he had gotten. Besides, he knew better than to distract a driver whilst in transit. All roads were monitored and drivers caught not keeping their eyes on the road were heavily penalized. In some cases they lost their jobs and were reassigned to the industrial district, and if there were no available spots, the Red District. By the look of Myro, Gimmons reasoned that she would likely be sent directly to the Red District. She was tall, athletic and extremely attractive. Her deep blue hair was clearly all her own. The Government took a certain percentage of Red Takings each year. Under the table of course. And a girl like her would surely be a popular item. Best he does not cause her to fall into such a fate. After all, he liked her. And he would very much like to continue liking her.

Thirty five minutes later Myro's cab pulled into the reserved transit port. Gimmons pressed his thumb onto the little black payport on the door, and waited patiently as it scanned his thumb. The locking mechanism in the door clicked as his payment was cleared.

"Thank you." he said as he reached up to tap the sensor above the door.

"What time is the collection?" Myro asked over her shoulder as he stepped out onto the empty platform and walked away.

"Okay. Cool. See you then." she said as the door closed.

As the vehicle hummed, and went through the safety self-check protocols, she watched the strange little man cross the gardens and disappear into the foyer of the Chancellery Building. She leaned forward over her driving wheel to stare up at the hulking building looming over the city. How long did it take to build that thing? She wondered silently to herself. No matter. I've got better things to think about. The vehicle pinged. The check was complete and the engine growled to life. Myro had chosen this particular vehicle because it growled.There was something so hypnotic and soothing about the gentle purr of the engine, or its growl as she pushed it up to higher velocities. Love of speed was one thing she and her estranged father had always had in common.

Myro pressed a button on her console and the viewscreen of her cab was filled with the view from the rear mounted camera. The traffic was clear. Why was she surprised? It was always clear around the Chancellery. She pulled slowly out of the transit port and pulled off toward the exit which would put her back into the fantastic chaos of Center City traffic. Thankfully, since Gimmons had not responded, it seemed her night was over and she could go home. It was still early and she would be able to join her friends for dinner. Orton was cooking up a mad Landfowl stew tonight. She would finally manage to eat it hot for a change.

THREE - The Sarcee

Seven thousand kilometers away on the continent of Morrin, in the megalopolis of Verenees, Camino Forris gazed up at the full moons in wonder. He, like many other Sarcee Younglings, was told the ancient tales of the Sky God and his Watchful Gaze. As the stories told, these great lights in the skies were His eyes as he looked down on the world below. When the moons were in eclipse - which thankfully seldom happened - His eyes were said to be closed to the world. By ancient lore, this was a time of unrest until His eyes once again opened. It was said that He understood the compulsion of mankind to destroy, maim and to kill. And that He would allow them to partake in such activities whilst His eyes were shut.

Thankfully those were the old times. Before the cataclysm and reawakening of the peoples. Since then man has gone on to rediscover itself and begin exploring the space above them. The time of the Sky God was said to have lasted several thousand years. Concerning the times before that, a great many scholars held wildly differing ideas. Some held that mankind lived in caves, chasing after wildlife in animal skins, others believe that mankind lived in great castles and roamed the whole planet, even the great wastes of the lowlands. Still another proclaimed that mankind had traveled the stars in great ships. This was obviously preposterous as no remnants of humanity had ever been found since the beginning of the space age some three hundred years ago. This of course was a lie. A lie propagated by Renayan and held to by the leaders of all the great city states on the planet of Annaius Prime. Whether for the good of mankind or not, it was a secret which many felt bound to keep. Each had their own reasons for partaking in this enormous cover up. But sooner or later someone would discover it.

Camino smiled as a flock of Nytebirds flew past the moon. Their silhouettes stark against the brilliant yellow of the moon. The day had been long, but it was now over. Beside him stood his daughter Aneira. She was beautiful like her mother had been. Devastatingly intelligent, like her grandfather had been. But a woman of few words, much like her father.

"Penny for your thoughts, Papa." She was a grown woman, but in private she still called him this. It was her way of showing affection.

"I was just thinking of the stories we were told as children." Camino said as he leaned onto the balustrade. The stone was cold to the touch, and ever so smooth. One of the key achievements of Verenees was the stone work. The entire city was constructed of stone blocks mined in the deep wastes to the East. The cataclysm had removed much of the sediment and laid the bedrock bare many centuries ago, and since then the peoples of Morrin had seen it as a gift of the Sky God of materials with which to build their homes.

The days of the Sky God were now long gone. But still the people were thankful for the abundance, and endurance of this wonderous material.

"About the Sky God?" Aneira asked as she turned and leaned against the balustrade and faced her father.

"Yes."

"What troubles you?" She could see through him like he was made of glass. He had been troubled lately. Though he had not spoken openly of it.

"There is something amiss with the history of our world." he was surprised by his own words as he spoke. For a great many years he had held the belief that there was something more to the wild stories he had heard growing up. During his time exploring his mind and beliefs he had encountered a group of students who had told him of the stories of the 'otherworlds'. He had rebuked them as lies at the time. And sadly, it would be the last time he would ever see those students. They left the commune soon afterwards.

Today something had happened that had never in his life expected to happen. He had been elected as the new head of the Sarcee Order. That meant a great many things. But most of all, it meant that he would now be the keeper of the faiths. He would be master of the sayings and truths. And as such he had learnt the one truth that he had never expected to learn.

"What do you mean?" Aneira stiffened as she spoke. She was visibly concerned by the statement. Aneira was a devout believer of the Will and Wonders. The testimony of the destiny of mankind to grow into a new being when the time is right. What he so wanted to share would shatter her worldview, and very likely - in fact certainly - result in the extermination of himself and his entire lineage if he were to share it. He cursed himself silently for letting his tongue slip. He had come so close to endangering his family.

"Pay me no mind, daughter. I am tired. Things exit my mouth sooner than I am able to recognise them. Forgive me." he said, hanging his head. A strand of his dark hair fell down over his forehead as he spoke.

"You had me quite concerned there, Papa. I thought you were about to say something a bit heretical." She smiled a knowing smile. Then she pushed herself away from the cold stone of the balustrade and walked toward the doorway.

Carino was almost certain that she knew precisely what he was about to say, or at least had a fairly clear idea. This was the reason why he had not wanted to be nominated to succeed Torrin Boda as Dominus Sacrorum, which in the common tongue means Lord of Sacred Things. He was right to have not wanted the position because as soon as he was sworn in, and the ceremony was over, he had been whisked away to the Sacrarium. Upon arrival he was then taken many, many floors below the base of the massive structure to what was called the Arcanum. This was a place he had never known existed until today. It was in this place that a new ceremony began. A ceremony in which he would be consecrated as Dominus Arcanorum, Lord of Secret Things.

There were eyes and ears everywhere. If he had so much as whispered anything he had learnt to his daughter, or anyone for that matter, they would know. And he and his kin would fall victim to some mysterious and tragic circumstance. Sure, sure he would be commemorated in public as a man of substance, but amongst his peers he would be deemed a traitor most foul. There would be no redemption from that.

Tomorrow he will sit in his first council and preside over the affairs of the city. He would not need to be concerned about screwing anything up as he would have advisors and subordinates to serve him just as he had served Torrin Boda. Torrin Boda had sat as Dominus Sacrorum for twenty years. Upon his passing he was still a virile man in his fifties, only about a decade Carino's senior. He had passed when he fell from the Aetherium a week ago. A chill ran down his spine. For the first time in a week, the thought that Boda's fall may have been sanctioned. He would have to keep an open eye on city affairs for any other tragedies befalling the family of Boda. As far as he knew, Boda had only one offspring. A son named Derrem who worked as stonemason and was currently employed beyond the North Wall where the City Council had commissioned an extension of the city to accommodate the recent rise in the population. Should something happen to Derrem... He shivered at the thought.

"Papa!"

Carino started from his trance.Aneira had apparently been calling him for some time. She was now standing beside him looking rather bothered.

"Papa. Dinner has been served. Come in from the cold and eat. You have a long day tomorrow. You must get some rest.

Four - Myro

"There'd better be some for me."

Orton, Zambi and Geyon spun round and cheered when they saw Myro standing in the doorway. She had buzzed them on her way home that she was returning for the night. But each held their own doubts about whether she was pitch or not.

"You bet! I keep for you some." Orton said as he leapt from the couch and headed into the kitchen. The apartment was not large by any standards, but it was cosy enough to house the four of them. It was on the hundred and fourth floor of the Kinnin Building near the boundary between Central City District and Red Two. Thankfully the large window which looked out over the balcony faced the outer suburbs. Otherwise the entire view would be crowded by the behemoth Chancellery.

The kitchen and lounging area were open-plan. The doorway opened into the kitchen, and from there one could see the doorway on the opposite side of the lounge which led into a small foyer of sorts with a door on either side. One led into the sleeping area and the other into the toilet and bathing room. That door remained shut at all times due to the mysterious of the toxic turd odours.

"So glad you made it tonight, My." Orton said as he pulled out a steaming bowl of Landfowl Stew. He had a real knack for adding just the right amount of spices to give it a hefty bite without destroying any flavour in the process.

"So am I, Ort. So am I." She said as he set it on a tray and handed it all to her. He had already set a spoon on the tray. Weird because whenever he left a bowl for her in the evenings there was never a spoon with it.

The sector of Central City where the quartet lived was allocated to what was openly called the "public business sector'. It was a nice way to say the lower class which is where cab drivers like her belonged. Also in that sector were journalists like Orton, Office cleaners like Zambi, and Artists like Geyon.

"Any chance you might get called out again tonight, Sis?" Geyon called from where he stood on the balcony puffing a Plantstick.

"Not likely." she said as she sat down on the balcony couch and scooped up a spoonful of soup.

A beep from the kitchen let everybody know that Orton had started warming another bowl for himself. "Man loves his cookin'" Geyon said between puffs.

"He ain't alone." said Zambi as she flopped down onto the couch beside her best friend. Myro blushed as she was enveloped by the long arms of the tall red head beside her.

"Hay. You gon make me spill. Zam." she laughed and playfully pushed her friend away. "You know what Orton..."

"Better not be wasting none of that fine dining experience, you hear!" Orton poked his head through the doorway, bowl in hand.

"See what I saying."

"Yeah, yeah. We all afraid of the kitching king." Zambi said with a strange exaggerated City accent.

The quartet burst into laughter at Zambi's impression of the Chancellor. Orton, Geyon, and Myro had all grown up in the Industrial District and Zambi had grown up in the Red District close to the boundary with Industry. By a number of fortuitous events they had all managed to get into the Service Academy and secured occupations in Central City District. Nobody was more relieved than Zambi. Her mother had been a Servicer, and had been trying hard to prepare Zambi for a similar life. The woman had broken down into tears when Zambi's application had been successful. She had never truly wanted such a life for her daughter. That was ten years ago. Zambi never saw her mother again. She received word that her mother had been killed two years later by one of her Servicees for a 'breach of contract'. The truth was that she had tried to escape the life and move to Center City District. She had applied to the Academy and been accepted. As repayment for her services her contractor had lifted the restraint orders and allowed the clientele to do what they wanted.

Zambi had learnt to accept the benefit of the view in time. Staring out over the place that killed her mother had been painful, but if she lifted her head just a little, she could see the distant glow of the Industrial District that had given her the people who had kept her going.

"Save some of that for me." Orton said, after swallowing the last spoonful of soup. He reached inside the doorway and set the bowl down on the window sill. Then he turned back and reached out a hand with two open fingers to Geylon. Geylon responded by slipping the plantstick between them.

Orton took a long drag, held it and let it out in a long, slow exhale. Then he laughed and held it out to Myro. "Want some, Sis?"

"No thank you. I never know what my night is going to bring."

"You live an exciting life. You know that right?" Zambi said, pulling her long legs up under her chin.

"How do you figure that?"
"Well let's see. Orton writes stories for people to read, but he must write what he is told." Zambi sees Orton turn to her. "You write amazingly well though." she said grinning. The stern look on Orton's face vanished and he blushed. He wasn't great at receiving compliments. "Geylon creates artworks for people's homes but within restrictions, he never gets to express his own ideas in art." Geylon shrugged his shoulders in a 'guess-you-could-say-that' gesture. "And me. I clean people's offices for a living."

"What's wrong with any of those? They're good jobs."

"Yeah, they're good jobs. But we never go outside unless we're going home or going to work. You get to travel around the entire city and see stuff. I don't even know what the Green District looks like. I doubt any of us know. Well maybe Geylon has seen a pic or two." she turned to Geylon, "Have you?"

"Well, I did see a pic of a few trees. If that counts."

"Yeah. I does. Kinda." Zambi turned back to Myro, all earnestness on her face. "In a way, you get to see the world every day. But for some reason you hate it."

"I don't hate it." Myro said. But she could see the disbelief on her friends' faces. "Oh come on guys. I don't really."

"Then why don't you like your job, Sis." Orton asked, before taking another puff of the Plantstick.

"Honestly. It is not the job I dislike. It's my name."

"What's your name got to do with anything?" Orton asked as he handed the remaining Plantstick to Geylon, who immediately dragged what was left of it. And choked for his efforts.

Myro watched as a look crossed Zambi's face. Something had clicked in her head. "It's not your name. It's what your name means in the city, that you hate."

"I don't understand." Geylon said. He had by now recovered from the coughing fit that his last drag had sent him into. Though his face was still a little flushed.

"Your father. When people learn your name, they immediately think that you are like him. Ready for the adventure at the drop of a hat."

"Again." Ceylon said, "I don't understand."

"Must I spell it out for you?"
"Sorry. Got Plant in my brain right now."

Zambi huffed. There was a reason why she never took part in the puffing sessions. It slows the brain. "Adventurers are generally seen as reckless, thrill seekers, and generally irresponsible with their lives and those of others. So, since Sar Feelus Gallin is her father, they may think that our dear responsible friend here is just like him. And since cab racing, uhm, cab driving is one of the most dangerous jobs in the greater city, you can imagine how they could make that link."

"You may be onto something there." Orton said in his mock journalistic voice. "Could it be that one Myro Gallin is out to push the boundaries of speed and danger to find her latest thrill?"

"Oh, piss off." Myro laughed and threw him a gesture which would have been very out of place in civilized society.

"You got me read like a book, Zam." she nudged her friend with her shoulder. "I hadn't actually thought of that myself. But, it all makes sense."

"You feel better now?"

"In a way."

"Good. Now let's get back inside and finish that movie before it's too late. Some of us have early mornings tomorrow."

FIVE - The Chancellery

Chancellor Vos slipped off his robe. The soft white beneath it shimmered in the subtle light of his chambers as he flung the robe over the back of the couch. The meeting with Aymin had been informative. He was now more certain than ever that his second in command was not being entirely truthful with him. There would most definitely be a conversation to be had in the coming days. But right now his primary concern was the matter of Sar Feelus Gallin and that confounded exploratory commission.

After Aymin had left, Vos had ordered a Level Three surveillance to be conducted on him. He could not yet move on him without any concrete evidence. Even though he was by all means the ruler of this city state, he was unfortunately not above the rule of law. The Law. Vos grunted at the words. A snivelling bunch of wet eared children who should have been set on fire and disposed of at birth. But, as fate would have it, these children were in a position to counter his ruling if he had to move on Aymin in any formal capacity. He would have to 'catch' him in the act so to speak. Aymin had no doubt been conspiring with Gallin and The Saracee. For what purpose remained to be seen. Whatever it was, Vos feared it would undermine his authority, and that of the Chancellery.

For nearly two thousand years, the Chancellery had been the principal authority in Renayan, and he would be damned if he would let some sniveling little prick like Aymin bring it to ruin.

What is he up to? Vos wondered to himself as he popped open a bottle of Vorbeen. The golden liquid fizzed a little as he poured it into a short round glass. Vos balanced the glass on his opened palm savouring the chilled sensation. Vorbeen was also known as Chills due to its unusual properties which retained a standing temperature around ten degrees centigrade. His spidery fingers wrapped slowly around the glass. He had a certain love for this drink. Its soothing effects were quite helpful whilst making decisions which carried unusually high stakes. This is one of those such decisions.

There were a number of factors he had to consider. Firstly, what did Aymin stand to gain from an alliance with the Sarcee? Secondly, what were they actually colluding about? And finally, how would whatever they were up to affect the sovereignty of Renayan?

There were certain facts which world leaders were privy to which the common man on the street wouldn't even dream of. But would possibly change soon. Ah, the other problem. Sar Feelus Gallin. That man! Chancellor Battin Vos hated the man.

Sar Feelus Gallin was one of a growing number of people who were daring enough to speak against the Autocracy of the Chancellery. He had managed to grow such a following and popularity amongst the peoples of Renayan, that Vos could not just make him disappear. He would be noticed and the people would almost definitely revolt. Vos had argued with the council that now was the time to begin setting up a stronger militarized police force, but he had been outvoted.

He let out a heavy sigh and sipped at the Vorbeen. He allowed the liquid to swish around his mouth a few times before swallowing. It was oddly fascinating in a childish sort of way how he could feel the liquid's passage down his throat and digestive tract all the way to his stomach. He threw the rest down his throat and set the glass down on the counter beside the bottle.

Something had been bothering him since the meeting with Aymin. Had the man been playing a role to try to convince him that he was on Vos's side. He had seemed to be rather interested in what the Chancellor would be willing to do if the explorer were to find the Planet. The Planet. What the hell was he worrying about? Nobody even knew for certain if the damned thing even existed. What he was sure of was that if there was a planet to be found, and Gallin succeeded in finding it and returning with evidence, there would be absolute pandemonium.

The Chancellery had kept control of the city for so long under a strict religious rule which dictated that Annaius Prime was the only habitable planet in existence. All of the religious texts across the planet had this one thing in common. How that had come to be was anyone's guess. In fact he had actually watched a presentation from a historian Garam Dackan in which the ridiculous theory of a unified community had existed at some point in history. He had scoffed at the idea. Because everyone knew that the people of Annaius had come to the conclusion after the cataclysm that it would greatly serve the people to build the great cities.

In the beginning. In the beginning? It was that very question which had driven Gallin on his quest. He believed that at some point in the ancient history of Annaius Prime, people had great technologies and traveled the stars, colonizing worlds. And then a great cataclysm had occurred which created colossal floods across the planet and destroyed much of the colonies on neighbouring planets. Annaius had once been a thriving empire of sorts. Then came the dark years. A time of rebuilding. So much had been lost. Cities were destroyed, millions dead, including many of the greatest minds in the world. All technology was destroyed by some kind of electromagnetic pulse. This meant that humanity was set back to step one. Millenia of advanced technology meant that few were equipped to begin planting crops or farming, and as result even more died. Until there were only a few remaining. And these few built the first settlements that would become the twenty-four great city states.

This was all garbage of course. But Vos could not argue the man's passion. It had been three months since Gallin had taken Dackan with him on his expedition. If things had gone to plan, they would have begun their return voyage by now.

Soon after they had left, Vos had ordered that all communications from Gallin were to be monitored and directed to the Chancellery. If by any small chance, Gallin had come back with information, he would be apprehended immediately and 'debriefed'. It was of the utmost importance that nothing got to the public unfiltered.

What was the connection to Aymin and the Sarcee? The Sarcee, to his knowledge, would be as concerned as he was. Their society was similar in so many ways to his own and the discovery of a new world would be catastrophic for them too. There would likely be mass immigrations, disgruntled peoples leaving the planet to start a new life elsewhere, the narrative of 'one world' would be shattered. The people would reject the Chancellery and the Way. There would be chaos. The same would happen in Verenees. The fact that Gallin was of Renayan would not go unnoticed. It would not take long for the Sarcee to peg the blame on Vos and the Chancellery. Now, with Aymin's apparent involvement this was a foregone conclusion.

Vos pushed off each of his shoes with an opposite foot and slumped back into the soft cushions of the couch. This was all too much for one day. Or one man for that matter. But there was no dodging that bullet. He was Chancellor.

SIX - The Sarcee