Senate Prime was an epipelagic water world. 90.005% of its surface was covered in water. Its little bits of land were low-lying wetlands, transitory sandbars, and young mountains forming volcanic archipelago chains along the edges of the continental plates. About thirty percent of the water was “shallow” epipelagic, or sunlit, zones atop the continents with abundant plant life growing up from the bottom and “clouds” of the local version of plankton. Coral reefs strung between the archipelago islands separated the deep oceans from most of the continental oceans.
The only surface city, upon the planet of one billion sapient beings, was the nominal capital of the Dominion. Built within the equatorial, shallow Sea of Crispius, Capital sprawled over a thousand kilometers with transit lines stretching even further to the space elevators and various launch tubes, launch towers, and other launch platforms. Despite the heavy, continuous traffic between the surface and orbit, few worried about any ecological damage.
During the First Dominion War, the rogue fleet, led by the infamous Admiral Crispius, bombarded the surface using mass drivers. The then-unnamed sea became a dead sea, boiled and sterilized. Ever since, fleets of robotic rafts toiled to keep the sea idyllic, crystal clear, and free from contaminants.
The heart of Capital was built in concentric rings with nine bespoke pedestrian avenues slicing the city according to the Temples and Lighthouses built by the Creators. Each of the nine major temple grounds was placed equidistant from each other around the city to represent the relative and fixed positions of the Lighthouse systems around the galaxy.
In the center of the city was the Political Hub where the Hierophant’s and Triumvirate’s Palaces and the buildings dedicated to the branches of government lay. Surrounding the branches were the various senatorial and gubernatorial estates. Agency and other governmental headquarters occupied the next ring. Beyond them, housing and commercial spaces for lesser governmental employees formed the last barrier between the sea and those who mattered.
When anyone claimed that the sun never set upon Capital, they indirectly referred to the millions of orbital mirrors reflecting the sun’s light to ensure the city was always bathed in a noontime glow.
For all the hustle and hustling of Capital, no being called Senate Prime “home,” nor was any being “born” there, nor any being “died” there. The diplomatically neutral fragments had neither hospital nor school. Every hint of land and every extra centimeter of Capital and every undersea farm were officially the sovereign land of some other solar system, some other planet, some other capital.
On this hectochron of the endless day, the chimes demanding the senators’ attendance rang throughout the Political Hub.
Aquari Senator-Pro-Tempore de’Calleous, of the “Cali” creche, hurried along the pedestrian Avenue of Tea—tea being an obscure Creator reference concerning the proper etiquette for greeting the Goddess of Civilization. Catching up to a Gemini senator, he asked, “Any idea what this call is about?”
The tall, muscular biped of cybernetics and cloned organic material hidden beneath a sterile charcoal jumpsuit and gloves turned its featureless mirrored face toward him. “The Regency.” Its voice was cold and uninterested.
“What?” De’Calleous knew the Gemini reputation of never lying but never telling the truth; their propensity for hiding behind double meanings. If interpretations of their stereotypical behaviors were correct, their governing AI found humor in the struggles of fully organic beings.
“Ninety-three percent of all Senate Prime calls are because of complaints or problems with the Regency. Most often with the Leoni Regency. Even if something doesn’t initially seem to orbit that blackhole, deeper inspection reveals any perceived difference to be nothing more than parallax.”
De’Calleous frown with his speaking mouth and knew his facial coloring changed to show his disappointment. “But the Leoni uplifting failed.”
“Yes. Yes. And we fought the Dominion War over whether we should seek to correct that which the Creators failed.”
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De’Calleous shook his bald, bulbous head to get back to the track he wanted. “Are you confident that the call isn’t about the border war?”
The Gemini senator walked a few paces. “We had best hope not. All of the Leoni in the Service are stationed along that front. Any death among their kind could cause riots, chaos, rebellion. The death of certain key individuals could give cause for them to assassinate their Regent and throw in with the Tauri Succession.”
“Do they not see the need for the Regency?”
“Neither the Leoni nor the Tauri understand the need to continue the Regency. Thus, it is only a matter of time until the Regency fails.”
“Are things really that bad? How can they not understand? The Creators failed them.”
The Gemini shook his head; the metal beads along the hundreds of tight braids chimed against each other. He gestured toward the multitude of privacy mazes decorated with tea blossoms.
Once out of sight of the foot traffic and under the screening arches, the Gemini activated a white noise machine. “You must be careful, senator-pro-tempore. Things are not what they seem in Capital. Senate Prime is not as safe as portrayed. If the call really is about the border war, you must pick your friends and your enemies and your conversations with great care.” The Gemini senator turned off the sound negator. “Silence may be your greatest weapon/shield.”
With that, the Gemini senator returned to the pedestrian avenue and vanished into the rushing crowds.
Senator-Pro-Tempore de'Calleous moved along the entrance balcony of the senatorial palace—the complex where the tricameral legislative branches convened. Unlike many of the buildings in Capital, the senatorial palace avoided the height ordinances by extending down to and into the seabed. Most of the above water areas were for visitors and the public.
Conference rooms and libraries and communication temples spread outward from the three underwater craters into which the three legislative chambers were constructed. Visitor signs pointed to the museum in the very center—built upon the spot where the surrender of Admiral Crispius was accepted and the peace treaty was affirmed. Periodic breaks in the balcony railing exposed ramps leading down into galleries where the visiting public could watch the government in action.
Identical statues of the three goddesses rose along the balcony’s half arches. Between their outstretched hands, bluish lights left undersea distortion patterns upon the floor. From his readings, de’Calleous knew there were over a thousand of those statues/arches on this level alone.
And what manner of creature are you? He silently asked a statue.
Ushers and guides directed the groups of visitors. And palace guards marked off restricted doors and ramps and lifts.
“Senator de’Calleous—” a Leoni female, in business attire which showed off her three mammary gland sets and her hips, approached him “—your grandfather hired me to assist you during his absence. There are some things we need to discuss before you enter the assembly.” She gestured to a nearby lift.
He frown with his speaking mouth and walked beside her. “Is it true the call for assembly is to discuss the Regency?”
Her smile showed the tips of her fangs. “No… or at least not directly. Your grandfather believed the Regency had outlived its usefulness. Many will expect you to maintain his voice in that matter, and there will be some who will use the incident near the battlefront to push one agenda or another.”
De’Calleous shook his head while the doors closed. “The Gemini warned me that the death of certain individuals could cause the Leoni to side with the Tauri Succession.”
She nodded. “And they reported those individuals as dead.”
He closed his eyes. “So what happens now? Civil war?”
“The first vote will be to further restrict the Leoni and Sobeki.” She handed him a slate with the day’s agenda. “The second will be to blockade movement within the Tauri systems. Both votes are tight. You can gain concessions if you mark your positional territory and refuse to back down in the face of encroachment. However, such a position can earn you lots of enemies—from those who prefer these issues to move forward smoothly.”
“How will new restrictions help us win against the invaders?”
She smiled and shook her head. “They seek to limit the potential for looking weak, for embarrassing disobedience, and awkward internal division.”
The lift doors opened to his grandfather’s offices.
An Aquari admiral bowed to de’Calleous. “Senator, I regret to inform you that the entire battle group sent to ARG-1165-YL has been destroyed. We presume all personnel are dead. We cannot mount a rescue in time to locate any who might not have asphyxiated. Your grandfather, Senator Calli, is among the dead.
“As the senior senator in the battle group, and you as his pro-tempore, this is the official response he is requesting of the triumvirate.” The admiral handed over another slate.
De’Calleous felt his rigid muscles go slack, and his walking tentacles became limp spilling him toward the floor.
The Aquari admiral and the Leoni assistant caught him.
“It can’t be,” he whispered. “The goddesses promised.” He stared up at the pair. “They promised.” Then his enormous eyes turned inward, and he fainted.