Chapter Forty-Two
Momentum
“Would it help if I said that none of this was planned?” Brix asked, shying away from her glare as she stood with crossed arms in front of the small desk her General was hiding behind.
“Does that explain what happened?” Nellie asked archly.
“A little,” Brix said with a nervous smile. “Perhaps if I laid out my thinking?”
“Do tell,” Nellie snapped her fingers, and nanites rained from the ceiling, forming a chair. It was showy and pointless, but she was in a mood right now—a perfectly justified one.
“The grey ones,” Brix said simply. “They explore anything that increases unit cohesion. It’s a cultural thing, apparently. So when they asked to learn about the Church of the Spark, I thought nothing of it.”
Nellie kept up her stare.
“So, when they left, Leah asked if I minded if they were to preach a little,” Brix winced at Nellie’s scowl. “Not in a way that tried to convert anyone! Just, you know, telling people about the Spark. Let them make up their own minds kind of thing.”
“And?” Nellie asked, not sure how any of that explained anything.
“In my defense, I had no idea they would be so persuasive. Also, I mean, they were Confeds. What were the chances they were all just yearning for community and helping each other? That had to be rare, right?”
“So I would assume,” Nellie nodded.
“Turns out, not so much.” Brix beamed despite his nervousness. “The whole thing started small. People buying each other drinks as they listened to the greys, and then they helped their neighbors…”
“You mean it snowballed?” Nellie asked. “Because this was more than that.”
“Well, it actually didn’t. Not at first,” Brix admitted. “The whole thing was kind of a gimmick for people until they banned the Spark.”
“They banned it?” Nellie asked. “Why?”
“The whole share and share alike thing was catching on a little too much. A couple of senior Clan families ended up finding out, and they banned the Spark, saying it was Un-Confed. Of course, as soon as you ban something…”
“Everyone and their mother suddenly wants to know why it was banned, so they go and find out as much as possible.” Nellie sighed. “How have people not learned that by now?”
“It was worse than that, actually,” Brix said. “They extolled the virtue of individuality, of striving for yourself alone. In short, they tried to create an anti-Spark ideal.”
“Didn’t that work?” Nellie asked. “It was always a popular idea back on Earth.”
“Sure, sure,” Brix nodded. “A lot of people went for it—lots of people. Most of them didn’t quite like the result. People who had relied on things like the help of their neighbors or being allowed to be short on a grocery bill for a week or two suddenly found they were getting screwed left and right. What is worse, the very people talking about how people should be individualistic were the same people putting prices up and trying to make extra credits.”
Nellie groaned, already seeing where this was going.
“Suddenly, the basic help for those in trouble was being cut to the bone, and everyone who was left out in the cold turned to one place for help.” Brix went on.
“The Church of the Spark,” Nellie sighed.
“Exactly. There, they found people who actually helped each other.” Brix said proudly. “Not just with basics, but with everything. People were giving advice, hiring the odd out-of-work people for this or that.”
“And that’s when it snowballed,” Nellie said with a nod.
“Not yet,” Brix said again, clearly enjoying the tale now. “Some pirate attacks stole a few shipments, a supplier changed to an alternate vendor, a few costs went up… and the supply chain hiccuped.”
“Hiccuped?” Nellie asked.
“Sure, it was only a minor shortage, really, but people panicked on both sides. The Individualists and the Sparkers all went nuts, buying everything they could get their hands on. While the individualists hoarded, the Sparks shared.” Brix sighed before continuing, “But all that buying turned a minor shortage into a drought. The individualists started to panic while the Sparks had been sharing and rationing, so everyone was still calm. The Clan leaders ordered a few raids, and someone died.”
Nellie refused to rise to the bait. She just stared at Brix until he went on.
“A new leader emerged, the husband of the woman killed. He started talking about how the Clan claimed individualism but really just took what they wanted and gave it to the elite. He organised a march on the Clan Headquarters, a peaceful one. I’ve seen pictures, and it was amazing. Tens of thousands of people marched in protest against the death of one person.”
“They were attacked, of course,” Nellie said. “I assume it started a riot?”
“No, a massacre,” Brix said sadly. “The marchers at the front were attacked, but they were dedicated to their cause and refused to fight back. A mob of the ‘True Confeds’ battering and murdering hundreds, if not thousands, of people who stood there and refused to strike back. It was streamed live across the Autumn Winds system.”
Nellie didn’t really know what to say; it was an abomination.
“The Clan leaders tried to stop it; at least some of them did, but it was too late. They tried to spin it, dismissing it as fake footage. Some believed, but most didn’t. For a few days, nothing really happened, and then one of the ‘True Confeds’ was given a medal by the Clan Headman for ‘pacifying a riot.’ Everyone just snapped. The whole damn system exploded. The armed forces were called in to pacify what were actual riots now, and only some of them obeyed the order to fire on their own people. The ones who didn’t obey turned their fire on those that did. It was a cascade from there.” Brix sighed. “When the dust settled, the Clan leaders were dead or had fled from the system. The new leader was the man everyone called the Light of Autumn, and he was declared the Headman of the new Spark’s Light Clan.”
“Mon Dieu,” Nellie sighed. “So he’s the new head of the Church of the Spark?”
“No,” Brix looked nervous again. “He refused the honor, stating that the leader of the Church was its first adherent.” He swallowed hard, leaning back. “The embodiment of the Spark, the Flame of the Stars, uh… you.”
Nellie tried to take a couple of calming breaths but gave up. You could only ask so much from some deep breaths. “He FUCKING what?”
“He declared you the Beacon in the Darkness, the Flame of the Stars, the uh…”
“What?”
“God-Queen,” Brix dove as Nellie kicked the desk so hard it lodged in the ceiling with a loud clang. “NOT MY IDEA!”
“So he fucking deified me?” Nellie growled. “I am not a fucking Goddess, Brix!”
There were no words to describe how wrong that idea was. No words. It was against the very ideals she lived by to have any kind of God-Queen.
“Yes,” Brix nodded, eyes fixed on the desk still vibrating slightly in the ceiling. “But he said the Spark was beyond such pedestrian ideas as what is real and what is not,” Brix said hurriedly. “He was quite, quite insane by that point.”
“Was?” Nellie asked.
“The grey ones did not take well to his declarations, and they killed him right then and there.” Brix swallowed. “It caused a bit of a stir, but people rapidly came to understand it was for the best. His closest had been a little worried about everything. But, well, they didn’t actually cancel the Declaration of Independence from the Confederated Planets. In short, there is now a council running the system for the good of everyone, and, uh, there we go.” He shrugged.
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“There we go,” Nellie repeated. “There we go? Brix, this is not a ‘there we go’ type of situation. There was just a bloody religious war and what sounds suspiciously like a purge afterward.”
“The Church of the Spark is more of a philosophical movement,” Brix protested feebly.
“Oh, well, that just makes it all better then,” Nellie smiled briefly. “Oh, wait, no, it doesn’t! Not in the fucking slightest!”
“The thing is,” Brix replied. “We genuinely didn’t do anything. The grey ones just told a few stories and killed the nutball at the end. Other than that, we didn’t have anything to do with any of it.”
“Even if we didn’t cause it, the idea—”
“Is sound!” Brix replied angrily. “Being nice and caring for others is ALWAYS a good idea. Besides, it is going fine in all the other— oh, shit!”
“What other places?” Nellie replied, her voice so low it probably qualified as a growl.
Brix stood and stretched to open one of his desk drawers before handing Nellie a small datapad.
The Spark of Kindness:
An introductory guide to a better life through helping others.
The galaxy is a harsh, cold, and unfriendly place.
Or is it? In this simple book, you can find a path to a brighter, kinder, happier world. Not by worship or purchase of items but by the rewards of a life lived well.
The only thing this book promises is this:
Every day, you will be happier with the person you see in the mirror.
“Oh, great,” Nellie sighed. “Not just a religion, but a self-help book as well. All I need now is an exercise tape to hit the fucking trifecta!”
/===<<<>>>===\
“What do you mean Autumn Wind’s gone?” Amber asked Colby.
“Some weird shit went down, and the Wind system is now the Spark’s Light system,” Colby said with a shrug. “A non-violent Clan who have declared themselves independent and neutral to all parties.”
“Are they joking?” Amber huffed. “They have to be joking. They can’t honestly believe that is an option.”
“I imagine Cyrus and his people will respond shortly, yes,” Colby shrugged. “In the meantime, Forest’s Hush is out of the fight as well.”
“Oh, they declared they are a separate entity as well now?” Amber had dark circles around her eyes, and Colby wondered when the last time she slept was. “Did they find the path of peace and light as well?” She chuckled grimly.
“No, they just had to sell all their ships,” Colby shrugged again.
“Tic, tic, no!” Buddy added with a cackle. “Poor bastards, I can’t blame them.
“THEY DID WHAT?” Amber collapsed into a chair.
“Long story involving the effect of high oxygen levels, a Merchant friend of mine, and a series of poor choices by the Forest’s Hush Clan leadership,” Colby said gently. “All that you need to consider is that two enemies will no longer threaten your people.”
“But, but,” Amber said before stopping and just flopping back into her chair. “Four Confederated Planets systems have fallen in less than a month! A month! The Confederacy has been here for dozens of generations!”
“Yup, generations of work to build, but it only takes one giant asshole to tear it apart,” Buddy said with a sigh. “Better luck next time?”
“It doesn’t just happen like that,” Amber said angrily. “One person can’t tear it all down!”
“No, he can’t,” Colby nodded. “Not unless a whole lot of people decide to follow him down that path. Then? Who knows?”
He was eternally grateful that his own IPA was nothing like that. They were entirely separate systems that just worked together. Any one of them spawned an asshole like Cyrus; the rest could just work around him: no one ruler, no one point of weakness.
Who are you kidding? You still think you are IPA? Be honest, Colby. We are Imperium through and through now.
Colby left Amber to her impending mental breakdown or to sleep, whichever she found first. He still had a lot to do in terms of dealing with his prisoners. It wasn’t like he had an actual jail to keep them in, and they did need things like food, water, a place to sleep, and a hundred other things.
A declaration on their treatment was one thing; actually making it happen was another story altogether. He had left them with Sec and the Deputies, and there was just no way that was a good idea.
“We got incoming,” Sec called as Colby arrived back outside the small command bunker Amber was currently held up in. “Reinforcements, apparently.”
“Good,” Colby said with a tired smile. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a beer and a nice long soak in a tub.”
“Move ‘em out!” Sec yelled, and the Deputies gathered their fifty or so prisoners and got them into line. Once they were done, the pair led the whole procession to the spaceport, seeing a familiar ship coming into land.
The Fair Weather was still shaped the same, even if it now flew under the name of ‘Marshall’s Wings.’ It slowed to a hover and lowered onto the sand-strewn pad, the blast of sand grains against Colby’s skin bringing a flash of memory he very much wanted to forget.
As soon as it landed, the rear bay doors opened, and thirty men and women in dusters came pouring out of the back. There were no lines because that wasn’t the Marshalls’ way. Instead, they moved in groups of three or four.
“Time to go see the Boss,” Sec sighed. “Hey, why don’t I hand over the prisoners while you go do that?”
Colby chuckled and nodded. Sec was a lot of things, but an idiot wasn’t one of them. He was well aware of how much Colby wanted to see Prim again and was shamelessly using that to get out of being the one who had to report to Crush. It wasn’t that Crush was a bad guy, quite the opposite. It was just that no matter how much they had changed recently, Crush was still the Boss.
Straightening his coat and trying to organize his hair as best he could, Colby went forth to report.
Crush was, as expected, on the bridge. The familiar sights and smells seemed strange after everything that had happened, like a weird dream that wasn’t quite real but close enough to pass for it on a good day. As much as Colby tried to remind himself that he was actually a liaison here and not technically a Marshall, the thought would not stick.
He’d called himself a Marshall, acted like a Marshall, and stars be damned if he didn’t feel like one. The only downside of that was that he had somehow acquired a Boss. It had been a long, long time since Colby had worked for anyone. He wasn’t sure he liked the reminder of what it felt like to work for someone else.
Ducking through the hatchway into the bridge, Colby saw Crush standing bent over the comm console, talking to someone via text communication. That was strange in and of itself.
“Oh, hey, Colby,” Crush said absently. “Welcome back. I’ll be with you in one second. I have to type everything to Quad and Tri because they refuse to upgrade their comms. They say they prefer the ‘rustic ascetic,’ but personally, I think they just know I hate typing shit out.”
“Can’t your implant just convert it for you?” Colby asked. Whenever he wanted to type something onto a computer, Buddy just did it for him.
Crush paused.
“Fucking hell, it works!” Crush turned and gave Colby a smile. “Nice one, thanks.”
“No problem,” Colby sat down in one of the jump seats to wait.
“You forgot this, by the way,” Crush tossed something over his shoulder without looking. Despite that, it landed neatly in Colby’s hand. A silver badge glinted in the semi-darkness of the bridge.
“So much for being a liaison,” Colby sighed and clipped it onto his coat.
“No use fighting what you are,” Crush said cheerfully. “You’re a Marshall; it’s just who you are.”
“We should get two badges!”
“Get another body, get another badge,” Crush shrugged as he turned around and sat in the console's chair. “So, how’d it go?”
“It was an absolute shitshow,” Colby said honestly. “I had no idea what I was doing half the time, and the other half, I was pretty sure I was going to die doing it.”
“Yup, that sounds about normal,” Crush grinned. “The day you are sure you know what you are doing, resign. It ain’t the kind of job you should ever be sure about.”
“Even you?” Colby asked, honestly surprised.
“Colby, I haven’t known what the fuck I was doing since a certain scruffy captain docked at my bay on FIG-Seven.” Crush chuckled. “If it helps, you get used to it.”
“Not a bad job, and good work on the captives,” Crush said when Colby finished his report. “The Sand’s Embrace is now free and clear, and the Star’s Song runs the skies as well.”
“How’s the rest of it going?” Colby asked. “I’ve been hearing things now and again, but…”
“Too damn well,” Crush said with a shake of his head. “That’s the problem.”
“Think something has to go wrong?” Colby smiled.
“It already has,” Crush replied seriously. “We started a multipronged approach to taking this Cyrus bastard down. The problem is we have done way too good a job.”
“What?” Colby frowned.
“We sent Berenice to fuck with their imports and dismantle their supply lines. That was like sending the fucking Harbinger to shoot paper targets. She decimated the fucking supply lines, making a mint in the process. Forest’s Hush tried to give her a moon. Did you know that?” Crush shook his head. “Quad and Tri were supposed to harass the enemy ships with a small pirate ship, and they ended up seizing so many of them that they have a budding fleet of their own now.”
“Pirates or Marshalls?” Colby asked. “The fleet, I mean?”
“Good question,” Crush sighed. “All I do know is that every foreign shipment on this side of the Confederacy has been nicked or destroyed for weeks. Not that many are even getting that far. The Sagacity is hunting a serial killer who they think works for Cyrus. That’s Leah. She’s been nailing anyone who helps Cyrus or his side to the wall, not literally thank the Spark.”
“Ouch, why do they think Cyrus is doing it?” Colby asked.
“They think he’s trying to hide what he’s been doing,” Crush said. “Which may actually help us as they seem to be trying to figure it out. Now, we have had this Church of the Spark revolution in the Autumn’s Wind system.”
“So it’s all happening too fast?” Colby asked.
“Much, much too fast,” Crush nodded. “Even if he doesn’t smell a rat yet, the fact he’s lost four systems in a few weeks has got to be tweaking every paranoid, hateful instinct he has.”
“If we’re lucky, he may take it out on his allies and blow this whole alliance of his,” Colby suggested.
“Marshalls are a lot of things, Colby,” Crush said levelly, “Lucky isn’t one of them.”