The Usurper

4

For those who live on full, generous worlds, worlds of plenty, worlds of blue water and black soil, it is difficult to conceive of want, save in limited ways, as in, say, an exhaustion of vessite or copper, or the extinction of a given food animal. And if one world is exhausted, its oceans gone, its soil barren, its star a cinder, one might, with an appropriate means, discover, colonize, and plunder another world, just as one who ruins one farm might move to another, and another. But even light takes time to plow its passage amongst stars, and there may be but a limited number of thresholds, and passes, in the mountains of space. It is recognized that, for a given civilization, housing massive, covetous populations, exploiting even ten thousand worlds, or millions of worlds, for a million or more years, nonrenewable resources, however abundant, will prove finite. That had come about in the empire, producing paradoxical discrepancies betwixt worlds, worlds which clung to a remnant of sophistication, refinement, technology, and power, and worlds which had relapsed into primitive savagery. There were worlds on which the sight of an airship, even a simple hoverer, would excite storms of disbelief and superstition, and worlds on which starships routinely departed from spaceports. On some worlds there existed power which could split planets and explode stars, while, on others, creatures of diverse species would do war with stones and sharpened sticks. And on many worlds the mixes of technology and simplicity, of machines and horses, of civilization and barbarism, existed side by side. Venitzia, on Tangara, the provincial capital, for example, had its electronic defenses and its occasional visitations by imperial ships, with their shuttles, or lighters, descending to the surface, while outside the perimeter Heruls rode, with their slender lances, and Otungs hunted in dark forests. Accountings in the empire had become erratic. Many worlds, marginal and now isolated, continuing to regard themselves as members of the empire, had faded, unbeknownst to themselves, from the records of the imperial administration. Others, rebel worlds, had declared their independence from the empire, several unnoticed by the empire. Over the past ten thousand imperial years, years measured in terms of Telnaria’s orbital periods, borders had contracted. Yet, in many of the inner worlds, life went on much as usual. Frivolous gayety reigned in palaces, mansions, and villas, while, sometimes but streets away, brutes and savages prowled amongst tenements and hovels, claiming domains, ruling their tiny kingdoms of hunger, fear, want, and scarcity. On some worlds, a single Telnarian rifle drew the distinction between king and criminal, between rogue and hero, between tyrant and rightful lord, between noble and base. A dozen women might be exchanged for a handful of charges or cartridges. There is little doubt that, at the time of our story, and doubtless for many years earlier, for such things take time, there had existed, amongst many worlds, fear of, distrust of, and surely resentment of, the empire. For example, consider taxation. It is natural to resent taxes, which deprive one of a portion, considerable or not, of the fruits of one’s labor, and particularly natural to resent them if one sees little personal benefit consequent upon their exaction, and if they seem to be imposed by a remote, almost anonymous, almost faceless authority, an authority one suspects of corruption and exploitation. In such a situation a spark of disgruntlement, perhaps occasioned by a fresh law, a new confiscation, an unpopular bureaucratic ruling, can ignite a torch of hate which can, in turn, set a continent or planet ablaze. In such a situation there are always beasts who can recognize, encourage, feed upon, and utilize discontent. Masses, ignorant and weighty, properly stimulated and guided, constitute a mighty force. Powerful indeed is he who, by means of golden promises, holds the reins of the masses.

We have noted, earlier, in reporting the observation of Lysis, supply officer of the Narcona, the current pervasiveness of citizenship in the empire. No longer was it prized; no longer, for most, needed it be sought, and obtained, if at all, only by a considerable expenditure of time and effort; now, freely bestowed, it had become meaningless; it had become worthless. The relevance of this sociological development would become obvious. The vast, seething, restless populations of the empire, without identification, without allegiance, like cattle, might be herded with impunity. Once men would die for the empire; now they lived for nothing. Once the empire was the sun of their day and the star of their night; its standards and anthems were now neglected or forgotten; the temples of former gods were unfrequented; altars crumbled; weeds intruded into sacred groves; holy springs ran dry. Coin ruled in precincts where patriotism and love had once held sway. Man, in a great and impersonal world, now deemed himself small, alone, and lost.

It may help to understand certain impending developments if one contrasts the restless populations of unhappy worlds, hitherto referred to, strangers to one another, united by little but a nominal citizenship in a vast, scarcely understood hierarchy of power, with a quite different societal arrangement, that of tribality. Those referred to by the civilized as “barbarians” tended, almost universally, to belong to sociological groups which might be, for lack of a better word, called tribes. This is what men were, a Drisriak, an Otung, or such. In the earlier days of the empire these tribes had been robbed of worlds; where they had resisted, they had been, in large part, exterminated, or banished and relocated, permitted to live here and there on the peripheries of civilization, perhaps to supply raw materials to the civilized worlds, such as produce, timber, hides, fur, and animals for arena sports. Indeed, some of these individuals were recruited for the games themselves, or for bodyguards to men who could afford them. While the men of the empire tended to grow weak and soft, the barbarians, in their isolation, in their harsh climes and dangerous wildernesses, continued to wax hard and strong. In times, some of these tribes were recruited as federates and permitted to settle within the empire, largely to supply soldiers for the imperial military. In this fashion, several of these tribes, and collections of tribes, gained a foothold within the empire itself, and access to the training and discipline formerly reserved to regulars in the Telnarian armed forces. It was rather as though one might invite vi-cats or arn bears into one’s home, that they might serve as guard beasts.

One looks into the night sky.

The passage of light, as is well known, is very swift, but its velocity, as is also well known, is finite.

One sees, in many instances, the consequence of a journey begun thousands of years ago.

The star, even the galaxy, may no longer exist.

Several of the passes, and the thresholds, in space have been charted. Some are guarded by imperial forces.

What if a pass should be breached, a threshold forced and its garrison overcome?

It is not impossible that strange ships might ply such a river.

But there may be other geodesics in the gravitational mountains of space, as well, and even, as in the case of the passes, and the thresholds, other passes, other thresholds, undisclosed gaps, crevices, in space.

Might not such things be scouted? Might not probe vessels seek them out? Might not some small ship, poised, look upon such a sea, and some account of its adventure, later, be heard in some tavern, or hall?

It must be understood that borders shift, expanding and contracting, and may be crossed. Certainly several worlds, at the periphery of the empire, and not always at the periphery, have known raids. And some of these worlds, we fear, have been settled by invaders, who have mixed with the indigenous population, absorbing their culture, industry, and technology. Some such worlds remain, officially, imperial worlds. Other worlds, it is rumored, in order to escape the burdens of the empire, surrendered to the fleets of armed, barbarian kings, exchanging one lord for another. Yet other worlds, to further consolidate the fruits of their own rebellions, supplied barbarians with training, ships, and weaponry, that they might discomfit the empire.

And so we have a beleaguered empire, with far-flung, brittle walls, defended by a diminishing military, with ever-diminishing resources, and a soft, vulnerable center, the inner worlds, muchly defenseless if those far walls should be breached, and foreign ships should pour through, darkening the sky.

At the edges of the empire wolves prowled, their fierce, gleaming eyes alit with hatred, envy, and greed.

One of these wolves we have met before, Abrogastes, the Far-Grasper, lord of the Drisriaks.