the room Golen fell back into his chair, glancing out through the large window to the right of his desk. His office was directly across the street from the Tomb of the Great Betrayer, and because it was still dark outside, the monument was lit up like a beacon, marking the exact center of the Central District.
It would only take Golen a few minutes to walk over there and confirm whether or not this insane message from the past was true, but an unannounced visit by the Minister of the Collective just didn’t happen—not without raising suspicions that something truly untoward was going on. Had he known about this yesterday, before Golen attended the ceremony at Barent’s tomb, maybe he could have made up some official reason to go inside it, discrediting all of this nonsense himself. But as things stood now, the military would have to do it.
And how could it really be true, anyway? Golen thought. That was five hundred years ago. Barent can’t possibly still be alive. Those were just the fevered last words of a dying man.
General Malves strolled into the office—interrupting his reverie—and Le’sant’s highest-ranking soldier noticed the worried look on Golen’s face at once.
“What is it, Minister?”
Golen handed him the message and Malves smiled as he read it. “This is impossible, of course. Even if Ennis lied about Barent’s death—and there were many who saw his corpse—the Betrayer would still be long gone by now, even with cryo. It’s been over five hundred years…”
“I agree with your assessment completely, General. But something inside me is screaming that we need to be sure. The Wardens have this information as well, and will no doubt try to exploit it for all it’s worth. I’m sure they’ll make it seem as if we’re hiding something, so we have to open up the sarcophagus and document the fact that Barent is truly dead. We may need that proof later—to counter the Wardens if they attempt to make something out of this.”
Malves gave Golen a grave look. “This can’t be done lightly, Minister. If the people ever found out that we opened up Barent’s tomb, we would have a riot on our hands. I may command an army fifty thousand strong, but there are over a million people living in Le’sant. How many of them would I have to kill before order was restored?”
“Your heavily-armed troops against that rabble?” Golen scoffed. “I wouldn’t worry too much about that, General Malves. But there’s no reason to take any chances either. Contact your men at the tomb and get it done quickly, before the city awakes. And let them know that they’ll forfeit their lives if they ever tell a soul.”
Malves nodded, and then he withdrew a secured comm device from his jacket to issue the necessary orders. He directed the soldiers stationed at the tomb to execute Golen’s wishes to the letter, but when he gave them clearance to open up Barent’s sarcophagus, and obtain proof that he was really dead, they made General Malves confirm the order twice—just to be sure they’d heard it correctly.
“They understand their instructions,” Malves said, switching off the comm channel. “And the consequences of not following them exactly. They’re going inside now.”
Golen looked out the window again and saw the increased activity at the tomb. The lights had brightened appreciably, and the tower guards were now focusing their attention toward the interior of the elaborate structure.
Ten minutes later Malves’ comm unit beeped loudly, and he shared an expectant look with Golen before answering it. The general spoke with the person on the other end in rapid, clipped tones, and then he switched the device off again and slowly placed it back in his pocket. He looked over at Golen but the minister found his expression unreadable. Even more frustrating was the fact that Malves remained totally silent—as if he were desperately combing through his mind for the right words, but what he’d just learned
It would only take Golen a few minutes to walk over there and confirm whether or not this insane message from the past was true, but an unannounced visit by the Minister of the Collective just didn’t happen—not without raising suspicions that something truly untoward was going on. Had he known about this yesterday, before Golen attended the ceremony at Barent’s tomb, maybe he could have made up some official reason to go inside it, discrediting all of this nonsense himself. But as things stood now, the military would have to do it.
And how could it really be true, anyway? Golen thought. That was five hundred years ago. Barent can’t possibly still be alive. Those were just the fevered last words of a dying man.
General Malves strolled into the office—interrupting his reverie—and Le’sant’s highest-ranking soldier noticed the worried look on Golen’s face at once.
“What is it, Minister?”
Golen handed him the message and Malves smiled as he read it. “This is impossible, of course. Even if Ennis lied about Barent’s death—and there were many who saw his corpse—the Betrayer would still be long gone by now, even with cryo. It’s been over five hundred years…”
“I agree with your assessment completely, General. But something inside me is screaming that we need to be sure. The Wardens have this information as well, and will no doubt try to exploit it for all it’s worth. I’m sure they’ll make it seem as if we’re hiding something, so we have to open up the sarcophagus and document the fact that Barent is truly dead. We may need that proof later—to counter the Wardens if they attempt to make something out of this.”
Malves gave Golen a grave look. “This can’t be done lightly, Minister. If the people ever found out that we opened up Barent’s tomb, we would have a riot on our hands. I may command an army fifty thousand strong, but there are over a million people living in Le’sant. How many of them would I have to kill before order was restored?”
“Your heavily-armed troops against that rabble?” Golen scoffed. “I wouldn’t worry too much about that, General Malves. But there’s no reason to take any chances either. Contact your men at the tomb and get it done quickly, before the city awakes. And let them know that they’ll forfeit their lives if they ever tell a soul.”
Malves nodded, and then he withdrew a secured comm device from his jacket to issue the necessary orders. He directed the soldiers stationed at the tomb to execute Golen’s wishes to the letter, but when he gave them clearance to open up Barent’s sarcophagus, and obtain proof that he was really dead, they made General Malves confirm the order twice—just to be sure they’d heard it correctly.
“They understand their instructions,” Malves said, switching off the comm channel. “And the consequences of not following them exactly. They’re going inside now.”
Golen looked out the window again and saw the increased activity at the tomb. The lights had brightened appreciably, and the tower guards were now focusing their attention toward the interior of the elaborate structure.
Ten minutes later Malves’ comm unit beeped loudly, and he shared an expectant look with Golen before answering it. The general spoke with the person on the other end in rapid, clipped tones, and then he switched the device off again and slowly placed it back in his pocket. He looked over at Golen but the minister found his expression unreadable. Even more frustrating was the fact that Malves remained totally silent—as if he were desperately combing through his mind for the right words, but what he’d just learned
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