Fiction:A Distant Ploy

Prologue
December 7, 2799

Barely three years since their arrival in Cyrannus, the French had managed to build for themselves a thriving metropolis on Novelle, a temperate planet that served as the capital for the French Cyrannian Colonies. It was clearly modeled after metropolitan France: traffic, high towers in a sea of glass, and the comforts that would make a Frenchman of the core worlds feel at home. This had surprised Lucian Chartier, Marshal of France, when he had first arrived. Given the folklore surrounding the frontier, he had halfway expected to meet grizzled colonists living off of the land, deprived of power and other such resources. It was a handsome fairy tale, but unsurprisingly, even an unfathomable distance from mainland France, the French were still French.

This he reflected on as he walked down an open street. It was night, though not late enough that the streets would be deserted, and lights shone from all sides, making it near impossible for even a rat to conceal itself. Ahead, a sign presented itself: “CHEZ RENAULD.”

The words engraved upon a slip of paper, handed to him furtively in passing by a governmental aid, returned to the forefront of his mind: “Meet at alley close to Renauld’s. There are enemies everywhere. Make sure you are not followed.” The slip had borne the seal of the préfet’s office, and he had Holden analyze the slip to ensure it was genuine. It was.

“Could it be a trap?” the android had asked.

“Maybe,” Lucian had said in passing. ''Doubtful. We're in a government installation. The person who handed me this note must be from the military or the government, and security here is flawless...''

The two had then returned to the day's duties, inspecting numerous military installations and formations. When they had made it back to their quarters in the evening, Lucian donned a blue trench coat and a hat and wordlessly slipped out the door.

Why would the préfet seek a meeting this way? The question burned in his mind as he slipped into the alley, a tight space between two buildings. Barely had he taken two steps that a door opened just a crack further down the alley. That must be my cue. Lucian opened it and stepped in. The room he found himself in was badly lit, but he could see enough to discern Arnaud Cavert himself. The préfet had retreated into a corner and stood, looking at Lucian with haggard eyes. He was wearing nondescript clothes just like Lucian which hugged his short-but-thick stature. The vitality that had characterized him when Lucian had known him was gone, replaced with exhaustion and fear.

“Were you followed?” the statesman asked in a hushed whisper.

“No. I made certain of it.” Lucian replied.

This seemed to come as a relief to Arnaud, who took a breath and stepped into the center of the room, a hand outstretched. Lucian took it.

“It’s good to see you,” Arnaud said. “I wish it were under better circumstances.”

“And what circumstances are we talking about, exactly?” Lucian had little patience for formalities, especially when something so apparently big was being withheld from him.

“Right,” the statesman grew apprehensive again. “I won’t waste your time, but… We’ve got a problem. It’s bigger than me, and it’s bigger than you, and I don’t know what to do.”

''What kind of problem would necessitate such secrecy? Could he not just call me to his offices? Or… He doesn’t trust his own government.''

“Tell me.” Lucian sat him down, in the corner and crouched next to him.

“Half a year ago,” Arnaud began, “we went over the colony limit set by Cyrannian galactic law on extragalactics. There was nothing we could do… The government was still issuing colonial permits and new colony ships were coming in every day––we needed a place to put them. I hoped that we would escape their notice, but the New Cyrannian Republic came down on us. They threatened war, and I was about to go to the national government when their threats just vanished into thin air. I was relieved, but it turns out that it was the Empire that had forced them to make them stop…”

“The Galactic Empire of Cyrannus?” Lucian interjected.

“Yes. And they wanted more than my thanks. They threatened to attack if I just so much as spoke of their involvement to the president or anyone. I got to take the credit for staving off the Republic, but secretly, it was them. They hung the fact that we were over the colony limit over my head to get me to acquiesce to their requests. They were simple, at first, as if they were testing me. Then, things got complicated. They ordered me to collect a staff of military personnel and civilian scientists for a project. They didn’t specify what it was at the time, and they’ve been laboring over it for months. After a lot of careful prodding, I’ve figured it out. They’re building a virus that specifically targets the hardware aboard New Cyrannian Republic ships.”

Could they not do that themselves? Lucian had trouble believing what he was hearing, though he trusted the statesman. There would be no reason for him to lie about something so important.

“The government is crawling with them. The Empire’s emissary––Issare, this enormous black bird of a creature––is constantly hovering over my shoulder, I can’t do anything. But you… You’re going back to France in a few days, no? Tell Madame Présidente what’s happening here. Only…” his face darkened again. “It might be too late.”

“Why?”

“I’ve received wind that they’re close… I even managed to discern a glint of triumph in Issare’s gaze this morning. I tell you, whatever they’re doing… Can you do anything?”

Lucian stood and strode into the middle of the room. ''Could they not develop a virus for themselves? They could be trying to precipitate a war between France and the Republic, though that was already bound to happen before their intervention… Are they just trying to clean up after themselves if they fail?''

“How potent is this computer virus?” Lucian asked.

“I… I don’t know. They asked me to ship secretly a lot of equipment and personnel from the Empire, so I’d imagine very.” Arnaud was still seated, watching him.

''Forget a potential war with France, if an attack against the Republic succeeds, the entire balance of power goes with it. Cyrannus becomes Imperial.''

Lucian turned on the préfet with determined energy. “Tell me everything you can. I need to know everything––anything you think can help.”

The Marshal milked Arnaud as much as he could until it became clear that he could be of no further help. He learned that Arnaud’s political enemies had intercepted one of his clandestine shipments and began a full scale investigation. They––led by a man called Bastien Giroux, which Arnaud suspected was loyal to the Empire––were closing in around him. He had received an order from the court of the French Cyrannian Colonies to appear before them the next morning. “I fear I might not be of very much use for much longer,” the préfet remarked with a note of sadness.

By the end of it, Lucian found himself in another corner, facing away from Arnaud. Silence occupied the space between them.

“So…” Arnaud spoke tentatively. “What can we do?”

Lucian was still in thought. There is a way, but…

“I can save France, the colonies, and the Republic…” Lucian spoke slowly, deliberately. “But I can’t save you.”

Lucian turned around in time to see the statesman’s reaction. Arnaud was intelligent enough to understand that this was the end for him, but his human nature had encouraged him to hope. “I… I understand,” said he with voice heavy with emotion. “That’s good to hear... How?"

“I can’t tell you. You can’t know. Nobody can know.” Lucian reached up with two fingers and bat the side of his temple. “You know what to do.”

Arnaud took a breath and nodded with a slight smile. “I will. You can count on it.”

When the préfet was taken in for questioning by the Empire a month later, a broken man, trapped in a dark, damp cell on an alien world, there was nothing he could tell them. He had forgotten who Lucian was.