“Breathe faster Cambo, hyperventilate. It’s like climbing a mountain.”

They had maneuvered to land into what the captain suggested to be a permanent shade, such that they would not be detected. Horman remarked on this objective to stop thinking about the somewhat painful breathing regimen.

“S-sir, but wouldn’t the ship, an-and our l-lander b-be detected? On a r-regular scan?”

The captain considered.

“We’ve had hours to be detected and apprehended. I think the comm tower is simply not manned. Let’s get moving.”

“S-s-simply, sir? I w-wish we had a sq-sqaud with us…”

The captain eyed him, then produced a device.

“Speaking of Cambo, here’s a beamer. Just in case.”

They moved toward the mining complex.

Horman Cambo assented and complied. He was dumbfounded, but perhaps so was the captain. Horman would probably have swung to get a line of sight beam to Verdanus to contact central, but the captain seemed always to think ahead. It was an irregular lesson, to learn to avoid one’s superiors when pursuing one’s own aspirations, but Horman was glad to accept it – space communications were not nearly as exciting as he had once imagined.

“C-c-captain, what d-do you think we’ll d-discover?”

“Officer Cambo, what did you study at Uni planetside? Well I studied social cataclysms.”

Horman considered answering the question – he had studied the conversion of speech into thoughts and emotions, but doubted that the captain really wanted a response. This was a fair assessment.

“I think that communications with us are neglected because… But that’s just paranoia. We’ll see on Tertius.”

Of course, he could not reveal his discovery yet, at least not during this council meeting. It was proof to him because it was based on years of observation and speculation, compounded and now verified – to others it could very well be inconceivable. Saying it out loud, to everyone no less, would likely get him dismissed from the council, if not imprisoned. Without his current status he would be powerless to affect this cataclysm in any way.

He knew now that Prettana was of the Brotherhood – near the top, or perhaps even Grandmaster. Kender Vassi now needed to discover the ends to her means, and quickly if he were to salvage the situation.

Con Gregor had cut short a councillor mid report.

“We have idled for two weeks, doing nothing. Nothing. We have issued no ultimatums, mobilized no troops, taken no action. Your democratic witchery has made me into an old fool.”

Such outbursts were best left uninterrupted.

“First I am told that we must attack. Then our forces are too few. Then that we could attack Koagrad to neutralize their bargaining power. Then that attacking Koagrad would force a united Tertius. I am tired. I am tired of searching for the perfect solution. I want action, before Verdanus begins to decay, and before I die damn it!”

Which counsellor could risk speaking at that point? They feared not that their ideas were subpar – they feared that the Con would put them into action. And when things went horribly wrong, as they undoubtedly would, who would be held responsible? Only Prettana dared speak.

“We do nothing; events will unfold.”

“A coalition. We might vote, but I fear we will remain divided. I have the reason why united action is necessary.”

He was older than most, and this afforded him a brief courtesy.

“I studied in this very university, right here in Koagrad. Some of you may have studied on Verdanus, but are then only moreso aware that the University of Koagrad is the only university on all of Tertius. And even so, it is geared only to vocational education in techinical fields. What Verdanus lacks in resources, we lack in education. Only through united action can we insure that trade with Verdanus will aid our independence.”

He glared.

“Else, betrayal will destroy us.”

“The problem that no one has bothered to voice, and I’m sure is instrumental to both the decision we make together, as well as the personal decisions we will make for our nations, is this.”

Silence had begun to accumulate, and the audience was his.

“I, for one, feel as though my actions were not my own for the past two weeks. I have never before considered revolution, yet have acted in it. And after having several conversations, most of you feel this way, and even suspect the same of your self-appointed superiors.”

There were murmurs of assent, but the floor remained his.

“We cannot return to how things were – what has happened has too much momentum. We can either succumb to infighting, only to fall and be forced to Verdan rule, or we can unite… under a common government.”

Before the arguments for freedom resurfaced, he concluded.

“My nation would follow, but not behind a leader who has been… affected.”

“Don’t worry about it. If anything goes wrong, it’ll be Jemsen’s head.”

“Are you daft man? Jemsen’s gone off his rocker – Rand’s the one giving orders now.”

“Rand? Wasn’t he a mechanic before? How is he qualified?”

“I think he worked the harvester, actually. I see what you mean though. This whole mess is going to get us killed.”

They were relieved by a less outspoken pair. A harvester op now a rebel leader? Something had motivated such a drastic change, Vanco thought, but only in some people. He and the guards seemed fine.

“Well damn. I’d bet that none of them are Verdans.”

“Jemsen’s explanation bordered on the supernatural – as though a demon had posessed him. Crazy!”

He sat down at Jemsen’s desk.

“But the reports tell of rebellion planetwide – he couldn’t be the only one affected. But see, I’m fine! Yet, who else might go the way of Jemsen? And who did we send to Koagrad – what if he breaks down too?”

He shuffled some papers, but no answer came.

“You know, someone is behind all of this, and he has a plan. The way I see it, we can either break down, or keep fighting and following that plan. I say we keep fighting, since Jemsen tried the other way – haha – and look how that turned out!”

Ironically, there was no one in the room to appreciate his joke.

A stocky man dressed in poorly fitting and unnecessarily flowery garments walked to the lecture podium and with great apprehension addressed the crowd.

“Guys… uhm, Ambassadors, please attend me. I am Felp Mehjar, engine- Director of the Koagrad Peace Talks.”

He let his unease fester in a long pause. A grunt from an ambassador roused him to continue.

“We are here today because, uhm, we need to determine what we will do. We can… declare independence, unite, or… return to Verdan Rule.”

He shrunk back as the yelling commenced.

His head had suddenly filled with paranoia, as he imagined himself jobless, homeless, and stuck in Koagrad. He was Verdan born, but a Tertian by nature; he emigrated to Floragyas and quickly ascended to Systems Engineer at the Third Trust Algae Pools.

That was then. Now, not two weeks had passed since the first assemblies, mobs, and riots. Jones’ own career seemed like a long abandoned hobby. What boggled him was that he could not figure out what he had done to become speechwriter to a newly appointed ambassador, thus Drawing him away from the algae pools. His engineering position must have been replaced by now.

And I’m sure as he’ll not going to admit inexperience in speechwriting and compromise this job too, he thought on the way back to his room.