Christie, cheeks still burning, cleared her throat. “Well,” she said, “we left Plato at his Academy, and our next subject of interest is named Epaminondas. He was an aristocrat by birth, claiming connection to the Spartoi—the mythical ancestors of Thebes. He was tutored by the Pythagorean Lysis of Tarentum, one of the original cult members who fled from Italy. However, whereas Plato taught philosophy and built his Academy, Epaminondas studied war, and became exceptionally good at it.”
“Perhaps supernaturally good?” Kayla suggested “Taking advice from high places?”
Christie nodded. “Perhaps. Well, he enjoyed a stellar military career in Thebes, taking part in several campaigns, chiefly against the Spartans. His victories paved the way for Thebes’ expansion, culminating in the catastrophic destruction of the Spartan army at Leuctra in 371 BC.”
“Wait, what?” Kayla asked in surprise. “The Spartans? The invincible badasses who trained for war from birth and never lost?”
“Exactly. Using his new tactics—the likes of which have never been seen before—Epaminondas inflicted a shocking defeat on some of Sparta’s most experienced soldiers. Greece was stunned by the news, and while Sparta limped on through the next few decades, the city-state never recovered as a major power. Now, some might argue that Spartan culture had bred a stubbornly inflexible military leadership that refused to adapt, although—”
“Nah.” Kayla waved her hand dismissively, “This is clearly the work of aliens.”
Christie smiled and bowed. “But of course. Well anyway, Epaminondas continued leading Theban armies until he was killed at the Battle of Mantinea in 362 BC.”
Kayla frowned. “Oh, well, that thread didn’t go anywhere then.”
“Oh yes it did, because of who his greatest student was.”
“Philip II of Macedon,” said Thandi. “Best known for being the father of Alexander the Great, and less well known for building the revolutionary army that enabled his son to conquer the known world.”
“Quite so,” Christie said. “In 368 BC, Philip II studied in Thebes directly under Epaminondas, and when he returned to Macedonia, he began putting his knowledge to work. You see, from the Pythagorean point of view, secret societies have failed. Plato’s philosophy isn’t going anywhere yet, though later it will have a huge impact on Rome. The cult’s only hope to enslave humanity is by conquest. Philip created the Macedonian Phalanx, developed combined arms and maneuver tactics, and introduced a professional soldier class regulated by a code of conduct. He forged the weapon that Alexander would wield to conquer the world.”
Kayla nodded. “Literally a revolutionary weapon in the Sarissa, the twenty-foot spear, right? New technology for the aristocrats to play with.”
“Exactly,” Christie finished, and sat back.
“Yeah, Philip changed everything,” Thandi said. “With his powerful new army, he was facing disorganized, squabbling city-states. He was able to conquer most of Greece, until his death in 336 BC, at which point the young Alexander takes over, finishing the job the following year.”
She grimaced. “His mother, Olympias, was another psycho cultist too. She joined the cult of Dionysus —just like Pythagoras before he went solo. This was another aristocratic secret society, whose members liked to go out naked to nighttime orgies, drink wine, take drugs and sacrifice animals. They are said to fall into a state of ecstatic madness before the god literally takes over their bodies. There are stories about them trying to infiltrate city states so they can conquer Greece.
“Coincidence? I think not,” Kayla declared. “Sounds like this could be the Jotnar’s main method of recruitment.”
“Probably,” Thandi said. “And Olympias told Alexander from the youngest age that Philip wasn’t his real father, that she had been impregnated in a bolt of lightning from Zeus himself. She convinced him that he was the descendant of Achilles and had a destiny to fulfill—Achilles went East to fight Troy, Alexander had to go East to fight the Persians.”
Kayla nodded. “Oh, of course. Achilles was the son of a goddess, wasn’t he? So, she’s teaching Alexander that he’s the next ‘chosen one’, sent by the gods to conquer the Earth.”
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Hey, interesting you said that,” Thandi said as she flipped a page in her notebook. “I saved this quote from Mary Renault’s Fire From Heaven; a fictional biography of Alexander. It’s revisionist fantasy, obviously, but there’s a speech I thought you might particularly like to hear.”
She began to read. “‘I don’t know all your life histories,’ said Derkylos. ‘But if any of you has seen red in battle, or been frightened out of his skin, you may remember putting out strength you had never known was in you. At exercise, even in a contest, you could not find it. There is a lock on it, put there by nature or the gods’ wisdom. It is the reserve against extremity.’ ‘I remember,’ said Naukles presently, ‘in the earthquake, when the house fell on our mother, I lifted the beams. Yet later I could not move them.’ ‘Nature wrung it out of you. Few men are born whose own will can do it. This boy will be one.’” Thandi looked up. “The boy is Alexander, obviously.”
“Typical aristocrats,” Kayla scoffed. “Stop trying to break the divine lock peasants! Only the chosen one can do that!”
She thought for a moment, then spoke more objectively. “Okay, maybe most people struggle when they really try to push themselves, but the entire concept of Special Operations Forces exists because there are a lot of soldiers out there who can perform at such a high level. Frankly, I think anyone can do it if they really try to develop themselves.”
“I don’t know about anyone,” Urtiga mused. “But I do know that most people can get a lot more out of themselves than they want to believe. Anyone trying to argue otherwise is obviously an elitist asshole.”
Christie sat forward. “The Platonists believed that such strength of character was a mark of the divine; one of the qualities that would allow philosopher kings to rule us all.”
Kayla smiled. “Erm, no. People can be both extremely capable, and stupid at the same time, not to mention driven by selfish agendas. If I see anyone walking around trying to pass themselves off as a ‘philosopher king’, I will be having words with that individual. To put it bluntly, the conversation’s not going to go their way.”
“I tend to agree,” Urtiga said. “And, honestly, I bet most people feel that way. That’s why these kinds of cults have to do everything behind the scenes.”
“Well, even when they do get their way,” Thandi went on, “it still doesn’t work out. In 326 BC Alexander conquers most of the known world, bringing it under the rule of a Greek—or Hellenistic—elite culture. I don’t think I need a spoiler alert for what happened next.”
“He was a badass though,” Urtiga said, as she dropped her empty bottle on the table. “I heard his men literally had to mutiny to get him to stop conquering. Bunch of quitters.”
Christie raised an eyebrow.
“So, anyway,” said Kayla, “He conquered a new empire with Plato’s Academy at its heart. The philosopher king is in place, let the work begin, right?”
“That would certainly have been the plan,” Thandi said. “Unfortunately for the Hellenes, Alexander died soon after in 323 BC, and his nascent empire immediately fell apart. Alexander’s generals couldn’t duplicate his kind of leadership.”
“Obviously,” Kayla said, “because if you spend your life following someone else, you’ll be useless when you have to carve your own path.”
“Oh, it’s inevitable,” Urtiga added. “If your force is dependent on one personality calling the shots, it will fall apart when that individual gets killed. This is exactly why your Rangers leaders will train you to replace your leaders, and make yourself replaceable in turn.”
“Okay, but I want to connect all this to the present day,” Kayla insisted. “The Helvetic League has succeeded in making a class of ‘philosopher rulers’—so they claim— and suppressing anyone who tries to challenge them. But Caldera has cut all ties with the League, while leading a growing colonist separation movement. So, they are a threat to the regime. And… well, what do you know? Allana Rayker; notorious terrorist, and thorn in Valkyrie’s side, is up to no good in Rackeye, while unexplainable monstrosities are killing people throughout the countryside.”
She sat back in her chair with a smug expression. “Obviously the Jotnar are still around, using her as their pawn.”
“Listen Kayla,” Urtiga said sternly, “I don’t like what’s going on in this galaxy any more than you do. But all you’ve got is a lot of conjecture. Rayker is Masey’s problem, understand? Your job is to go wherever your Ranger battalion goes and keep your theories to yourself, because you have years of intense training ahead of you. Distractions will do you no good.”
Kayla sat forward again, her eyes wide. “You said yourself there could be some fortress out there where all the Jotnar hid. What if Rayker is the key to finding it? Shouldn’t the whole organization drop everything to try and capture her?”
Urtiga rubbed her eyes. “We’ve watched her for decades. She mostly plays corporations off against the cartels in a petty pursuit of power. On one or two occasions she has discovered and tried to exploit Jotnar locations, and we don’t know how she did it. But humans are infinitely curious and clever. With the expansion of the colonies into the galaxy, this kind of thing is becoming inevitable, and all Valkyrie’s biggest brains are focused on how to deal with it. Don’t get me wrong, studying history is great, but conspiracy theories about ancient Jotnar pulling strings to control civilization are a waste of time.”
“Maybe you just can’t see the bigger pattern behind her moves.”
Urtiga only shook her head, and refused to say anything more on the subject.