Sable Palace and Elsewhere
March SY155
Monday morning, and the first item on my calendar was Gray's weekly security briefing. He'd been better at not keeping me completely in the dark since we'd had words, although I wasn't naïveenough to believe that he was telling me everything that was crossing his desk. However, when he walked in the door on March 16th, he looked less happy than normal. Jack Howarth, my Private Secretary, quickly provided us with coffee and then left us to it.
"Morning, Robert," Gray said, once the door was closed, and he could relax from the official formality.
"Long weekend?"
"Definitely," he replied, "long week, actually. Maybe I should run through the less important issues before getting on to the main problem."
"It's your briefing," I answered, indicating for him to sit, but I'll admit he'd piqued my curiosity.
He spent twenty minutes or so verbally cantering through what he obviously thought were the less important issues: rumours of economic disruption from a relatively high-tech world out in Veil 8, which had trading deals with some of the Commonwealth worlds; the assassination of a minor despot on Anaru, out in Veil 5; the replacement of our representative in Janezh, where Michael had had his difficulties a few months before; and the like, and I had to admit that as the pile of files he'd covered and placed on the corner of my desk got larger, my curiosity was becoming even more insatiable about the file he was obviously leaving until last.
"Come on, Gray," I said, finally, "put me out of my misery."
He looked at me, shrugged, and then dumped the rest of the files onto the pile. The one he kept hold of looked like it contained maybe three-dozen pages of densely-typed text, and when I caught sight the name on the front - New Oceania - it didn't mean anything to me.
"I sent a team back to Veil 50 last week," he said, finally.
"Manira 2.5?" I offered. In the terminology he'd been using in his briefings, Manira 1.0 was the original Veil 9 iteration; Manira 2.0 was the Veil 50 site where it had been moved to; and Manira 2.5 was whatever the Hell was left after the Brotherhood had tried use Michael's blood to 'fix' Manira 2.0.
"Strangely, that's not what its calling itself," he replied, "they seem to have gone for New Oceania."
"Any idea why?"
"I believe it's a reference to a work of fiction from the Outside," Gray answered, "a disturbing novel I read one time: a dystopian fantasy about a world which makes the Reich look positively cheery. And yet, from what my agents have told me, somehow appropriate."
"That doesn't sound at all good."
"Shall we say, Chartris appears to have taken the model he used on the original Manira, complete with Stasi and associated machinery and made it worse."
With that, he handed me the file.
I flicked through it, not at all liking what I saw. A police state run by a number of Ministries, under the control of a General Secretary. However, one of the Ministries also apparently doubled as the old Brotherhood of the Royal Martyr, complete with the Patriarch of the Brotherhood at the head. There was also an overarching Party in there somewhere, although it didn't appear to have really registered on the radar of Gray's team, so there wasn't much detail on the specifics of that one.
"Chartris himself isn't mentioned," I commented, "neither are the original Maniran Triumvirs."
"I wouldn't have expected Chartris's name to be mentioned, per se. After all, it wasn't an identity he ever used in connection with the original Manira."
"Being the one who was supposed to have been martyred," I answered, and he nodded, "but if I remember your earlier briefings, you'd concluded that Triumvir Carlos de Real was Chartris's nom de guerre on Manira, and that isn't mentioned either. Neither are Francis Edwards or Gregor Konstantin."
"The General Secretary, Ezequiel de Real - which seems to be a separate position from the head of the political Party for some reason - would appear to be Carlos's son. But you're right. There's no mention of his father. Perhaps all three of them were killed when the ritual went wrong."
"Edwards and Konstantin were human, so with them that's very possible," I concurred, remembering the sheer scale of the conflagration Rupert and I had studied immediately after the disastrous ritual the Brotherhood had attempted back in October, "Chartris, though...I would have expected him to have been more resilient. Still, it was a right bloody mess, and Shadows were breaking up and reforming even when I was there, so it certainly could have killed him."
"And good riddance, if it has," Gray commented, "but there was another name which worried me...probably more."
"Which one."
"Raymond Syke."
"One of Andreas's alias? He was up to his eyeballs in the mess on Cheyne a while back if I recall? I think we decided he was one of their Bleeder-Clone avatar types."
"Look at the Minister of Peace."
I had another look at that section of the file: sure enough, that was the name assigned to that position, and the artist's rendition of the man which was printed beside it looked disturbingly familiar. I bit back the string of expletives that immediately came to mind.
"CC was also worried about Curt Koen," Gray commented and I glanced at the picture beside the Minister of Truth.
"CC?"
"The cave cricket. He went with them to New Oceania."
"You're employing invertebrates now?" I asked, trying to lighten the mood, but Gray wasn't buying.
"I'm employing a fully sentient, close to fully skilled avatar of your brother, with probably the best connection we have with that Shadow. He took one look at this Koen guy and saw something which apparently the others couldn't. He's pretty certain about it, though."
I studied the picture more carefully, trying to see past the outer appearance to whatever the cave cricket might have seen, casting my God of Truth eye over it, and realised what he had seen.
"Crap," I muttered, looking at the picture again, and then back at Gray, "what exactly does the Minister of Truth do?"
"Propaganda and entertainment. Also rewriting history, if New Oceania is following the pattern of the model we think it's based on."
"I guess it's in character. Although if there's a Party, I think I would have expected him to be running it, which doesn't seem to be the case. Assessment? Is this actually Conrad? Or has Andreas been up to his old tricks again?"
"With Syke there as well, my best guess is that it's another bloody Bleeder-Clone. But I have no way to know for sure. That's the sort of thing you'll need to check with Andrew.”
"When could Andreas have got his pattern to clone?"
"Despite his loyalty to the Kaiser, the Party Chairman isn't exactly a stranger to the Wewelsburg, and back then, Andreas was trusted. I imagine it would have been very easy, and someone in Berthelmes's position would be an obvious target to replace if and when the time came."
"He would indeed," I said, my thoughts racing, "Gray, you're not going to like this, but..."
"...you need to tell Bloody Rupert. I know. And much as I'm going to hate myself for this recommendation, you need to tell him about the information in the back few pages, as well."
I flicked to the back and scanned through the Appendix on the Metaphysical Geography of the New Oceania Shadow bloc. When I had met Rupert after the botched ritual, we had analysed the mess, and come to the conclusion that the seven central Shadows had fused together, and the damage had spread for two Shadow rings around that. If the conclusions Gray's team had come to were correct - which certainly sounded plausible, although I'd need to verify them, as none of the team had the familiarity with Shadow Metaphysics that I did - those two rings were now compressing down into fewer Shadows than they had originally comprised, and a whole new ring of worlds was coming into being around them. One conclusion, in particular, stood out.
"The new worlds seem to act like the Sable Mountains. If you think hard enough, they can become anything you want. We recommend that Sable forces under the command of Field Marshall Prince Andrew establish a military base there as soon as possible, before someone else gets there and does it first."
"Is someone else the Reich or the Machine?"
"The Reich," Gray answered, "several of this team were there when Valhalla was created. Both times, actually...so they're well aware of how badly it could go if we don't get there first. And let's not forget that the Machine are apparently already there, if we're right about Syke and Koen."
"Which is presumably why they're recommending that Andrew sets this up."
"I believe it's a key factor, yes. Along with the fact that one or two of them consider Andrew to be their superior officer, at the very least."
"The trouble is, while I understand their reasoning, it can't happen that way. For a start, it would be a red rag to a bull when Rupert found out. And he will. Jorge von Klieburg is proving to be an annoyingly efficient external intelligence chief."
"Don't even go there," Gray said, with a resigned shake of his head.
"And there's also the small problem that Andrew is also the Head of State of an allied, but separate Power. Sure, certain members of this particular team know that, but sometimes it gets rather brushed under the carpet, given his higher profile around Sable than at times past. What a bloody mess."
"What are you going to do?"
"I need to talk to Wilhelm, Rupert and Andrew."
"Presumably not at the same time."
"Wishful thinking."
"Talk about red rags to bloody bulls."
"I know. It'll be bodyguards all around if that's the way we have to go with this. But I think it might be the only way. I'll talk to them individually today, and see if they're willing to meet. The sooner the better, I suspect."
"I'd love to see Rupert's face when you tell him about Conrad."
"I'll try to arrange it."
"Then I'll leave you to it," Gray answered and got to his feet, "do you want to keep the New Oceania file for now?"
"I'd better had."
"Understood," he said. Then he collected together the other files, and headed out of my office.
I refilled my coffee cup, while I mustered the enthusiasm to talk to Rupert, and then started making calls. Starting with Andrew, then Wilhelm - because when all was said and done, he was the Reich Head of State - and finally Rupert, I invited all parties to a meeting at Millbank that evening, figuring that my old home was the closest we were going to get to neutral territory in the Sable universe. All three were obviously keen to know why I wanted the meeting, but I was unwilling to discuss the matter with any of them in great detail over a Trump, beyond mentioning that it involved Manira (and even that had to be handled delicately with Andrew). I was also unwilling to mention the potential presence of Rupert to Andrew and vice versa, knowing that if I was going to get them both to attend, omission was better than full disclosure.
Some God of Truth I was turning out to be.
Andrew and Rupert both agreed to be there. Wilhelm said he would try to make it, but it sounded as if he had a longstanding engagement he would need to break, and reserved the right to send someone in his stead if he couldn't postpone.
I also gave Roland, down in Aurellis, a call, to give him a rough update on the situation, although given that the problem was definitely a Northern Hemisphere one, keeping him in the loop was more a courtesy between allies - due to the mutual enemy in the form of the Machine - than an invitation for him to become involved. Also, I figured he'd rather hear it from me rather than Sirius, and Wilhelm was likely to mention the matter to his friend and opposite number in Eboracum.
Of my own people, it was Gray and William who I decided most needed to be there, and they both agreed to come. Once I'd decided on the location, I called ahead, and asked the Millbank servants to set things up for the meeting in the old dining room, partly because it had the largest table in the house, and partly because it had the least space if Rupert and Andrew decided to have at each other. A bloodbath between those two really wouldn't help anything.
Will, Gray and I met in my office after an early supper, and my son was obviously surprised that August de Lyon and was with me. After all, I'm notorious for ditching my bodyguards at the first opportunity. However, I had a feeling that if it did come to blows, I wanted his speed and strength on our side to break things up. I just hoped that if Wilhelm decided to attend and bring any of the Imperial Knights, professionalism would win out over the personal animosity between them and the Sable Palace Guard.
I brought up a Pattern lens and took our group through to Millbank. De Lyon immediately set about checking that everything was secure, while Will and I headed for the dining room. I noticed that the butler had laid out a variety of alcoholic refreshment on the sideboard, and helped myself to a finger of the Macallan to steady my nerves while we waited. About ten minutes later, I felt a Trump call and identified Rupert as the caller.
"Evening, Mein Bruder," he said, "do you want to bring us through?"
He offered his hand and then passed through first Obersturmbannführer Karsten and one of the other members of the Honour Guard, then stepped through himself.
"Wilhelm and Conrad will be here shortly," he commented, then followed my footsteps to the sideboard. Sure enough, a couple of minutes later, I got another call and brought the Kaiser and his brother through to join us, plus Oberst Baumann, de Lyon's opposite number. Baumann scanned the room, saw de Lyon and their eyes met. They held each other's gaze for a few moments, then nodded to each other. Professionalism was apparently the order of the day.
Over to one side I caught glimpse of Gray's face, as he tried to conceal a truly wicked smile. The smile of a man who knew something that someone else didn't.
"Thank you for coming, Wilhelm," I said, as I took his hand.
"I considered leaving it in Conrad's capable hands..." he answered, with a shrug, "but then I found I had nothing else to do this evening, after all. I can really only bear to watch the Ring Cycle so many times."
As he said that, he threw a meaningful look at Rupert, who to my surprise raised his glass in the direction of his Kaiser. The family love of music in its various forms had somehow passed Wilhelm by. Maybe he'd spent too long in his previous state to remember how to enjoy it.
"Why don't you make yourselves comfortable?" I said to them, "while we wait for the others."
"Others?" Rupert asked.
"There's another party who I've invited to this meeting, as it's likely to affect him as well."
Rupert's eyes narrowed and he became more tense - something which Karsten noticed immediately, moving towards him, ready for trouble.
"I can only think of one person you'd be that cagey about identifying to me, Mein Bruder. I hope you aren't thinking of double-crossing us..."
"We're allies now, remember?"
"Sable and the Reich are. The Reich and the Technocracy...not so much."
"Believe me, Rupert. He needs to be here."
He was obviously biting back another comment when I felt another incoming call and identified Andrew. I moved away from my brother, then opened up the link, and he and his Chief of Intelligence, Joachim Berger, stepped through.
"Sorry we're late, Robert," he said, brightly, "I was caught up out on Keragorn, and temporarily lost track of the time difference."
And then he noticed that Berger was looking towards the other end of the room with an expression of distaste on his face, and slowly turned. I'm not sure if he was less inspired to see Rupert, or vice versa.
"What the fuck is going on, Robert?" he asked, slowly, his hand moving towards the hilt of his sword.
"His Majesty has called this meeting on a matter of mutual security," Gray said clearly and calmly, joining the circle for the first time, and thankfully his presence served to cause Andrew to stand down from DEFCON One. I'm always amazed at his knack for doing that.
"Thank you, Gray," I said, then looked at my guests, "I suggest you get whatever refreshments you want, and then take a seat. I suspect this could take a while."
After a certain amount of murmuring and eyeing up of each other, my guests eventually did as I had asked, and I began with a summary of the events of Epiphany and 18th October the previous year: to whit the relocation of the original Maniran Broken Pattern from Veil 9, the subsequent attempt by the Brotherhood of the Martyr to form it into a more complete design, and how it went quite spectacularly wrong. Rupert occasionally added his comments and observations, having been the one who got there first, but for the most part he let me tell the story.
The fact that the room contained a group of the best Powers users in the Sable universe made telling the initial story a lot easier. Laying aside myself, Rupert and Andrew, as the three Creators, I knew that Will, Conrad and Wilhelm all had greater than average knowledge of the Pattern, with Will also being a Jewel initiate. So at least they started from the position of having a better than usual grounding in multiversal metaphysics, even if some of the specifics related to what had happened and how the Brotherhood using Michael's blood for the ritual had been a very bad idea, needed a little of explaining.
Once I'd set the scene, I handed the floor over to Gray, so he could bring them up to date and up to speed with what his people had found on New Oceania. He started much as he had with me: the central New Oceania Shadow itself, and how the society there appeared to be structured.
Initially, it didn't seem as if my Reich guests were as horrified by the central tenets of the place as I had been: but then, I suppose I should have expected that, given that as far as I could tell, Chartris and his Brotherhood compatriots - plus potentially Andreas, given their past associations - had taken the Reich political model and carried it further, if that was possible, to create their New Oceania "utopia". Andrew, on the other hand, looked grim as he listened. There was very little he didn't think Chartris was capable of, and Gray's report just confirmed the worst of his suspicions.
The conversation became more animated when Gray circulated the images of the key figures on New Oceania.
"Raymond bloody Syke?" Andrew said, with disgust, "so the Machine really is up to its metallic eyeballs in this? I suppose it isn't a surprise, given past information from Manira. But it's depressing to have it confirmed yet again."
"Now I understand why you said he needed to be here, Mein Bruder," Rupert commented, mildly, "to give us yet more evidence that the creating the Technocracy was an ill thought out screw-up."
"You can't exactly talk," Andrew replied, icily, "you were the one who clasped Andreas fucking Delatz to your bosom like a long lost son the moment he walked out of the Nexus."
"A mistake which I tried to rectify at Beltane, as well you know," my brother replied, meeting his gaze unflinching, "after all, you were there."
"And that little incident proved to me that you really are a complete lunatic."
"It did the job," Rupert answered, with a shrug, "what I did purged the Reich - and Sable- of the vast majority of Andreas's agents. We've not found any others since Summer Solstice, and believe me, we've been looking."
"And yet here we have Raymond Syke. Alive and well and running the Ministry of Peace...whatever the Hell that is...on Chartris's pet Shadow."
"War and defence," Gray said, mildly.
I glanced around the table, noting that Wilhelm was watching the exchange between Rupert and Andrew with something akin to amusement, which was when I spotted Conrad staring at the image in front of him on the table. He'd gone white as a sheet.
"What's the meaning of this?" he asked, holding up the picture of Curt Koen.
Rupert held out a hand and took the picture from him, glanced at it, then passed it to Andrew.
"Perhaps you have an expert opinion," he said, and for once there was neither distaste nor sarcasm in his tone. Andrew paused briefly, possibly consulting the Nexus to confirm his suspicions before answering.
"First assessment? We're looking at the same kind of entity as Syke. Something we refer to as a Soft Mind. It's a development of the Bleeders that we've come across before on multiple occasions, but whereas Bleeders have mechanical minds, and can be pretty much manufactured to order, Soft Minds are almost entirely organic, have more freedom to think and act than some of the other models, and are usually unique."
He shrugged and looked at Conrad, who was staring at him, wishing he wasn't hearing what Andrew had to say.
"I'm sorry, Conrad," he said to his brother, and almost sounded like he meant it, "he's nothing if not persistent."
"Apparently so," Conrad answered, his voice shaky. I'm not sure I'd ever seen him lose his self-composure quite so badly, and I realised I felt for him. After all, it's not every day you discover that you are not the unique individual you think you are. He rose from the table and turned away from us, ostensibly to get himself a drink.
"What does this mean?" Will asked, curious as much than anything else. We still had a lot of gaps in our knowledge of the Machine, even though we'd been filling them slowly over the last couple of years, and Andrew usually had to be pushed to give details, preferring to handle the problems himself. "Andrew, is it in communication with Conrad? Does it know what he's thinking, for example?"
"No," Andrew replied, "it's a separate entity. It may have some of his knowledge...perhaps even a similar skillset, depending on it's been programmed it to do, which would tie up with it being New Oceania's propaganda minister. But it isn't in active connection with the person it was patterned after. Assuming, of course, that it is a copy and Chairman Berthelmes, here, hasn't been moonlighting."
"Do you really believe that?" Conrad asked, turning back to the table and sitting down, a large G&T in his hand.
Andrew answered his question with a shrug, and then continued.
"What worries me more is that the Syke Soft Mind appears to have survived Beltane. We have no way of knowing if Koen even existed then, but Syke definitely did. Given that the Curse was thrown on Prime, and its effects were reflected back here on Magica Superior - as evidenced by your internal body count, Rupert - and therefore, by extension, on every Shadow in between, how come Syke is still operational?"
"Assuming it's the same Syke," I suggested.
"As I said, Soft Minds usually don't have production runs the same way that the lower level ones, like the Fratellis or the Ricky Smiths do."
"But surely if he'd recreated himself once, Andreas could do it again at will?" Rupert suggested.
Andrew considered for a moment, and then appeared to concede the point.
"I don't know. Possibly. I'd need to research it."
"So does that mean I can be recreated again, and again, and again?" Conrad asked, quietly.
"I don't believe so. Much as I hate to agree with my dear uncle over there, Andreas is the Master of the Machine, and therefore the possibility exists that he can do things to himself which he can't do to others. Much as myself, or Rupert or Robert can within our own domains."
"There's also been some suggestion from the mission briefings I've had from my various teams that when they first came across Raymond Syke, he was a better than average Maniran Broken Pattern initiate," Gray commented, "would it have been possible for one of these...Soft Minds...to have been involved in the ritual which moved the original Broken Pattern from Veil 9 and established it in Veil 50."
"Under other circumstances, I would have said no," Andrew answered, cautiously, "however, this one is patterned after a Creator, not just a 'normal' family member, so all bets are off."
"Perhaps that was what isolated it from the Curse?" Wilhelm offered.
"It's possible. As I said, I'd have to check."
"The other option is whether he was a Pattern initiate?" Rupert asked, looking at me, "which might also have protected him...Pattern defence stops a manifold of difficulties."
"I don't think so," I replied, "Pattern initiation isn't something that's part of your DNA profile. The potential to initiate is, but the Power itself, no. About the only time I can think of when you get a true replica with all the original's Powers and abilities is during Creation. So no, I think the most likely solution is that he was more closely tied to the Maniran Pattern than we had realised."
"Or maybe you were right earlier ...?" Will offered, "the original Syke died, and Andreas has made a copy of it, maybe from whatever passes for his own DNA, and deployed it on New Oceania."
"Assuming that the whole of New Oceania isn't one great Machine or ex-Machine conclave," Wilhelm suggested.
"Too many actual people," Gray answered, "what my agents saw there was a full civilisation of living, breathing - if bloody miserable - human beings. There were just too many of them to have been Machine Bleeders..." he turned to Andrew, "if I understand correctly?"
"Yes. Bleeders can be mass produced, but in their tens and twenties, not in their thousands or tens of thousands. They need organic components, unlike the drones..."
"If this place was only built about five months ago, and isn't running particularly fast relative to us, from what your report says General Graham, how come it already has a whole civilisation?" Conrad asked, "that would imply it wasn't just a ritual redrawing of a Broken Pattern, but an actual act of Creation."
"We all know from personal experience..." Rupert began, looked around, shrugged and continued, "well, nearly all of us...that if you walk in Shadow you can find whatever you want. Admittedly that leads to the metaphysical argument that was that Shadow there before you found it, or did the very act of looking for it create it?"
I glanced over at Gray and then at Berger. As the two non-family members present (besides the various bodyguards, who remained watchful but silent around us), I was concerned at their reaction to that argument. Gray, I suppose, and discussed such things with me enough over the years that he took it in his stride. Berger seemed more discomforted, although he tried to hide it.
"The argument against that," I answered, "is that the world where New Oceania is now located, existed before. The old site of Joss Kennard's Denmark, remember?"
"That's a little detail you hadn't mentioned," Andrew interrupted.
"Sorry...it wasn't intentional," I replied, with an apologetic shrug, then continued, "so the world itself wasn't created by whatever they did, either back at Epiphany 154 or last October."
"So what was there between Denmark being moved south of the border and the Maniran Broken Pattern taking up residence? Did it remain a Rock of Creation after Denmark was gone?"
"Not sure...we never went back to look," I admitted.
"Which in hindsight was probably a mistake," Rupert commented.
"Apparently so," I admitted, with a shrug, "but it's too late to do anything about now."
"So just to make sure we're on the same page," Will said, confirming his understanding "the potential site of a Power was there and Chartris found it."
I nodded.
"Then could moving the Maniran Broken Pattern have kick-started the process which caused it to form into a full civilisation quite so fast?"
"With the New Oceania ritual finishing the job?" Andrew answered, "it's certainly plausible."
"Which seems to bring us back to what do we do about it," Rupert said.
"In terms of universal mechanics, it's balancing off an equivalent site - New Denmark - so in that regard, it isn't a problem," I replied.
"Besides the whole Chartris has built his own personal totalitarian playground issue..." Andrew said, his tone cold.
"Totalitarianism has its place," Rupert said, mildly.
"Not all of us would agree," Will interrupted, before Andrew could say something we'd regret, "but I'm not sure that's the issue in front of us just now."
"Indeed," I replied, "my main concern in this was actually what Gray's team found in the Shadows AROUND New Oceania, rather than the place itself." I looked at Gray. "May I...?"
"This is where your knowledge far exceeds mine," he answered, and I started explaining about the Shadow compression issue on the two rings around the prime New Oceania world itself, and more to the point, the fact that surrounding those were the malleable worlds which were akin to the Sable Mountains.
"Eighteen Shadows?" Rupert said, incredulous.
"Eighteen Shadows," I replied.
"All with the properties of the Sable Mountains?" he asked for confirmation.
"Exactly."
"Holy shit," Andrew commented, "the Mountains were bad enough."
"That depends on your point of view," Rupert said, mildly.
"We're all well aware of Valhalla, and the unusual circumstances which led to its creation, " Will answered, "however, imagine taking what has been done there, and multiplying that by a factor of hundreds."
"Imagine what would happen if Chartris got his claws into them," Conrad said, bluntly, then looked at Gray, "I assume he hasn't already, General? Or we wouldn't be having this conversation. We'd be figuring out how to nuke the place from orbit, as it were."
"It doesn't seem like it from my agents' report," Gray answered, "otherwise I would have expected more of the same that we're seeing on New Oceania.
"So we have to get there first," Rupert commented.
"I hate to admit it, but for once I actually agree with the bastard," Andrew said, glancing at Rupert, and then around the table. Rupert glared at him, not appreciating the form of address, but my son just shrugged.
"Which actually brings me to the key reason I called this meeting," I replied, "I have a proposition. I'm hoping you'll consider it, before rejecting it out of hand."
"Go on," Rupert said, cautiously.
"We establish three bases there. We're talking about eighteen Shadows, so a sphere of influence of six worlds each, to lock down and make sure Chartris can't use them to his own ends."
"You would seriously give Bloody Rupert..." Andrew began, and I could see my brother mouthing 'sitting here' beside him, "...a solid base that far out into Shadow."
"I could feel equally unhappy at a Technocracy stronghold in the same location, General de Lacy," my brother said, mildly, then looked at me, "and how do you propose doing this?"
"You, Andrew and I work together, with the Sable Jewel. Make the block into a cohesive unit with defensive perimeter boundaries on the New Oceania boundary, and then tag the Shadows so they match our respective realms. I would recommend that each of us nominate a potential Viceroy - a Protector if you will - to be our agent and ruler there, and include them in the Working. Once that's done, each of us can do whatever else he chooses with the six Shadows under his control."
"Back up a moment, Robert...tag the Shadows?" Andrew asked.
"Every world which comes into being with the Creation of a Power has a metaphysical marker which identifies it as part of that Power," I answered, "I discovered this when I was building Murray and collecting together the right worlds to anchor them."
"But these worlds came into being with whatever they've drawn on New Oceania," Rupert commented.
"I don't believe so," I replied, "they certainly exist as a result of that, but they've been rebuilt from the stuff of Shadow to fill a void. Unlike a normal Power, whatever is at the heart of New Oceania destroyed worlds as it came into being, rather than created them. Which I suppose technically makes it one of the largest black rituals ever undertaken on the Inside. My hypothesis is that the eighteen new worlds are malleable enough that they could be tagged, which wouldn't be possible if they had been created more...conventionally."
"It's an interesting theory," Rupert commented
"I suppose we won't know for sure until we get there and analyse them, but that's my initial opinion."
"How do you propose differentiating Sable Shadows from Reich ones?"
"Worlds strongly connected to the Black Pattern - for example, the Aussenhandel worlds - have the Sable tag, but they also have a separate marker."
"And you know this how?"
"From when I helped you set up the fifth group...the one centred around Neubrandenburg. I noticed it then."
"And the Technocracy?" Andrew asked.
"Again, I was there when it was created – so I felt for the differences and identified the markers then."
"You've been busy, Mein Bruder," Rupert commented.
"I try," I answered, If you're willing to take a suggestion, I would set up the Reich segments of the new worlds as a sixth Aussenhandel group."
"I would support that," Wilhelm commented, looking at Rupert who nodded in acknowledgement, "what qualifications do you believe these...Protectors...would need?"
"A greater than average knowledge of the relevant Power - Pattern for Rupert and myself, and presumably the Nexus for Andrew's representative. It's going to involve some pretty high-level work for this to be successful, so a good grounding is pretty vital."
"Why do you assume that The Brotherhood hasn't already figured all this out?" Andrew asked, "Chartris isn't exactly a slouch himself when it comes to universal metaphysics."
"From the initial reports that my people came back with, there is no indication that the person we believe to be Chartris - the person who callse himself Carlos de Real within the Brotherhood - is currently active on New Oceania," Gray answered, for me.
"That doesn't necessarily mean he isn't there," Will commented.
"No...but I'd argue that unless he's changed a great deal, he's never been the kind to hide his light under a bushel, and so there would be some sign of him," I replied.
"Except when he's in full intelligence weasel mode," Andrew pointed out.
"But this is different. This is the Creation of some kind of Power," I replied, "if he was there, and more to the point capable of being involved, then the chances are he'd be visible. If only to rub our collective noses in just how clever he is."
"True," he conceded.
"So it's possible that he succumbed to the ritual when it was undertaken. Personally, I'm more concerned about any connections Andreas Delatz has to the place. After all, it looks as if two out of six of the key individuals within New Oceania are probably his operatives."
Andrew nodded, and looked pensive.
"Views? Thoughts? Screams of protest and incoherent rage?" I asked, looking around the table, and was relieved to see that the general feeling was one of consensus.
"When do we do this?" Rupert asked.
"As soon as possible, so that we still have a chance of getting there first," I replied, "have a think who you would want as your Viceroy there, and I would suggest meeting up tomorrow morning and heading out there."
"Where?" Andrew asked, stating the obvious question.
"In the summer house on the King's Isle?" I suggested, "all three of us know the location, and it will be easier to head out from there. Say 9am."
"Until the morning then," Rupert confirmed, with a nod and I opened the Shadow doors and my guests began to leave.
* * * * *
The following morning, I was waiting for them with my grandson Thomas when the first call came in. I had debated who to ask to be my Viceroy, and decided on him for a number of reasons, despite his less than glamorous departure from Sable, in light of the revelations of his connections, however inadvertent, to the Friends of the Lost.
First, he usually has a sensible head on him as far as the use of Powers is concerned and he is very skilled with both Pattern and Trump.
Second, I was becoming more nervous about him being out and about in Shadow with no base, from the point of view of him being a potential target. I hadn't forgotten the fact that the way we'd first discovered the existence of the Brotherhood Plague had been when he and Odessa reported in from Chisato saying that it was attacking a city only 50 miles from where they were living. I'd never believe that was a coincidence.
And third, while I didn't think that Rupert would try anything with Thomas the way he had with Andrew, there was no guarantee that the powers that be on New Oceania might not figure out what had gone wrong with the Creation of their new Power and look for a more compatible Pattern user to pick up from Shadow and bleed. And that was even laying aside anything the Machine, itself, might try in the way of duplicating him.
I answered the call to Andrew, and brought him through along with his daughter, Helena-Maria. She had originally been another of the products of Rupert's breeding programme, which had spawned many of the senior SS generals, but had broken free from him back in SY123, in the mess surrounding Joss Kennard and the Danzig Disaster. Since then, she had become one of the senior generals on Andrew's staff, working with both Nexus and Sable troops.
He and Thomas greeted each other warmly, and Andrew introduced him to his half-sister, before turning back to me while they talked among themselves.
"Are you sure this is the only way?" he asked.
"It's the only one I've come up with so far," I answered, "and I'm not sure there's time to work something else out."
"I suppose you're right," he conceded, "but you know me...Bloody Rupert is the last person I'd include in anything, let alone something this big."
"I know. But I'm not sure we have much of a choice."
"There's always a choice."
"Not with the Treaty in place. Not on something which involves establishing territory in open Shadow."
"There isn't a treaty with the Technocracy," he said, with a shrug.
"As he brightly reminded me yesterday as well," I answered, then felt the stirring of a Trump call, "that's probably him now. Please, while I understand your feelings, try to play nice."
Andrew nodded, and I opened up to the call.
"Guten Morgen, Mein Bruder," he said, and offered his hand. I reached out to him and he passed two individuals through. I recognised both of them, but while one of them was entirely expected, the other was not. Then he stepped through himself, sans Honour Guard, and glanced around, with a look of anticipation on his face. It was obvious that he was curious what my reaction would be to his unexpected guest.
"Conrad," I said, nodding to the Party Chairman.
"Good morning, Your Majesty," he answered, as politely as always, and apparently having now come to terms with the shock of last night, "I assume you remember my brother Joachim?"
"Greetings, father," Joachim Peiper said as he offered his hand, "it's been a very long time."
"Oberstgruppenführer. Peiper," I said, noting that his grip was firm and the flesh of his hand was solid.
"I suppose technically," he answered, perfectly politely, "but now I prefer to think of myself as the Master of Valhalla."
"It would seem that rumours of your death truly were exaggerated," I commented.
"Oh the death was real enough," he replied, with a chuckle, "I remember every millisecond of the burning pain as brother Andrew's blade cut into my heart..."
He paused and glanced at Andrew for his reaction, and to say the latter had seen a ghost would probably be... entirely accurate. Meanwhile, off to one side, Thomas was giving the distinct impression of wanting to disappear before he was noticed, while Helena-Maria was watching with interest, obviously alert for trouble.
"...But it would seem that death is no longer the end it used to be for those of us who follow the right path," Peiper added, with a certain degree of satisfaction.
Andrew had been the one who killed Peiper? I glanced at Rupert, and for a moment thought I saw a trace of surprise on his face. Perhaps that was information he hadn't been party to, either.
I tried to rack my brain for what I remembered of the circumstances of the demise of the former Head of the Waffen-SS, over fifty years before. It had happened in deep Shadow, when he was leading a campaign further out than normal, trying to gain influence somewhere out past Veil 25. It was around the time that rumours of an unknown, Sable-allied general were beginning to do the rounds, but still more than fifteen years before Andrew had returned to the fold. However, it was completely and utterly in the period when my son was revenging himself on the Knights who had undertaken the Black Friday ritual, and Peiper would certainly have been one of them.
"Still, that is very much in the past, nein?" he said, with a smile, "we are at peace now, I believe."
"So we are," I answered, "although I'll admit to a certain curiosity about why my brother decided to invite you along this morning."
"My country and his are allies. And because of the...unique circumstances of the task I understand is before us this morning, and my specific expertise in that area, he's asked me to consult."
Which of course made perfect sense, damn Rupert for thinking of it. We were about to set the foundations for a group of worlds based on pretty much imagination and nothing else, and if there was an expert in how to manipulate the Sable Mountains, and lands of their ilk, it was the individual in front of me.
"In the meantime," Peiper continued, his tone perfectly pleasant, "in the spirit of co-operation in which I imagine this enterprise is designed, feel free to bring up the Pattern lens you're itching to wave in my direction."
Curiosity got the better of me, and I took his invitation at face value. I quickly brought up a lens and risked a look at him with the Pattern. It didn't take long to come to the conclusion that he was far more human, more real, than any Pattern Ghost could be. If anything, his general metaphysical appearance reminded me of Raibeart of Argent. And the Sable Pattern imprint within him was exactly as I would expect from any other higher-level initiate. Whatever the majority of Valhallans were, Peiper himself was very much alive and well, and a member of the Family. With a nod of acknowledgement to Peiper for the permission, I dropped the lens and came back to earth.
"So where do you propose we go?" Rupert asked.
"I could make some suggestions..." Andrew began, but I shot him a hard stare and he actually shut up.
"Let's start on the Veil 50 world you called me through to last October and work out from there."
"Assuming it's still there."
"Then as close as we can get."
"This is going to be interesting," Peiper mused, as Rupert brought up a Pattern lens, and we made the transfer.
Very nearly falling off the edge of a 300ft cliff on arrival.
"What the fuck?" Andrew asked.
"Sorry about that," Rupert replied, looking sheepish, "this must be one of those points General Graham mentioned, where worlds have smashed into each other. And none too neatly."
Looking down, the lower plateau below us was a mangrove swamp, whereas where we were currently standing was more Yorkshire moorland.
"You couldn't have checked before jumping?"
"We would have all survived, had it come to it," Rupert said, with a shrug, although looking at him, I think he was trying to hide the fact that the close call had shaken him more than he cared to admit.
I glanced over at Peiper, to see that he was very carefully studying his hands and arms. Perhaps making sure he was all in one piece, despite being 50 Veils from Valhalla. I took another look at him with a lens, and while he seemed a little less real...more like a Pattern Ghost...he was definitely still coherent.
"So it would appear that I can move off Magica Superior," he commented to Conrad, in German.
"It would have been bloody embarrassing if you hadn't," his brother answered, with a half smile, "that was a risk."
"But one worth taking," he answered, "now I know more. I can advise Rudolf for when he comes here as my Warleader."
I glanced at Rupert and saw a look of distaste cross his face, at the mention of 'Rudolf', before he got his emotions under control. I assumed Peiper was referring to Rudolf Lange, one of three Knights who had died in the coup against Rupert at Summer Solstice.
"Your Warleader?" Andrew asked, staring straight at him.
"Of course," Peiper answered, "I have agreed with the RFSS that in return for my advice on how best to deal with these...malleable worlds...he will grant Valhalla sovereignty over one of those in the Reich bloc."
"That wasn't part of the deal we made last night..." Andrew protested.
"Au contraire, dear nephew," Rupert replied, fixing him with a hard stare, "as Robert said last night, each of us can do whatever else he chooses with the six Shadows under his control. If I choose to grant one to an allied nation, then what business is it of yours?"
"If that's what was said last night, he's probably right," Thomas commented, looking at his father who glared first at me and then at Rupert.
"So be it."
"What happens now, grandfather?" Helena-Maria asked, "you seem to be the one in the driving seat."
"Before we step out into the New Worlds, I propose that Rupert, Andrew and I, plus Oberstgruppenführer Peiper, form a mental link: it will be easier to show you what I'm proposing than try to explain it. I'll use the Sable Jewel as a focus, to help that go smoothly."
"I'm not sure I'm comfortable with the idea of making any form of link with the cesspit which Bloody Rupert calls a mind," Andrew commented, icily.
"You don't need to be involved," Rupert replied looking steadily at him, "you're welcome to go home, and Robert and I will sort this out between us. Of course, that way you don't get a say in what happens..."
"Andrew, please," I said, quietly, "it's in all of our interest to co-operate on this and not stab each other in the back. And I'm confident that if anyone comes into this with an agenda other than that, I should be able to spot it wearing my God of Truth hat."
Well, it sounded plausible, even if it was a good bluff.
Andrew glanced at Rupert, then back at me, and gave a resigned shrug.
"Once that's done," I continued, "we head for three equidistant points of the New Worlds, and working together, we first tag the worlds, and then we build a basic barrier between them and the next ring in towards New Oceania. That should give additional protection to the groups we're building. I'd recommend the barrier restricts anyone walking onto the Shadow from the New Oceania side, using any form of Pattern or Broken Pattern, unless they have a token to let them pass."
"Why the caveat?" Andrew asked.
"In case we want to send people in there to have a look see, which I'm sure we will want to do. Not letting them get back out again would seem a little harsh."
"What about Trump and Piloting?" Rupert commented, "and indeed magical gating? Those avoid the walk through the intervening space."
"We're going to have to live with that," I answered, "unless you can think of a way of blocking them."
"Under normal circumstances, a ward could do most of it - but building a ward over seventeen Shadows, and one of them some kind of Power, might stretch even the three of us," he mused, "perhaps in my God of Protection days, but not now."
"That's rather what I was thinking," I answered, "so the barriers won't be perfectly secure, but at least they should stop most of Chartris's people from getting off-world to cause trouble. Once the foundations are built, we bring in the Protectors, help them mould their three administrative centres, and fix them as the hearts and keepers of the three groups, effectively locking them from outside interference."
"And what if something happens to any of us?" Thomas asked, "unlike you, we don't have the potential for a Creator reset."
"Don't get killed?" Conrad offered, with a perfectly straight face.
"I have no doubt your future would be assured even were that to happen, little brother," Peiper said to him, and I got the impression that he wasn't joking. Could he tell who the faithful were? I knew that in mythology, the Valkyries could do just that, but was it a trait the Master of Valhalla shared with them?
"The traitor and the...other lawyer..." he glanced at Conrad with a wicked smile, then back at Thomas, "them I cannot speak for."
"In the precedent of the only set of similar instances I can think of, the worlds a person was linked to suffered greatly, on their demise, except in one instance, when death was in large part pre-ordained, when steps were taken to mitigate the side-effects," Rupert commented. Although naturally, he didn't go into the specifics of what he was referring to, which was both interesting and piqued my curiosity. "In that case, the world linked to him was hardly touched. However, if I understand what Robert is suggesting correctly, he, myself and Andrew will also have a link to these worlds, even if Conrad, Thomas and Helena-Maria are the primary Protectors, and that should ensure that should the...worst... happen, a tidy succession should be possible, as long as it's undertaken relatively quickly."
"Let's hope we don't have to find out," Andrew commented.
"Indeed," I answered, "now, where was I...ah, yes...Once the first two stages are completed, we will have one fully formed world in each group, plus five others which still have the malleable qualities, but can only be moulded by those who have the permission of the Creators or the Protectors of the relevant groups."
"Why not just define the others then and there?" Conrad asked.
"We have three processes to deal with," I answered, "tagging the groups and building the walls, linking the three of you into those groups and then defining what happens afterwards. The first two need Andrew, Rupert and I working together. The third doesn't. At that point, the worlds will be linked to their respective Creators/Protectors, and what happens next is up to them. Once the links between us are broken, if you want to go ahead and mould the rest of the Shadows in your purview immediately, that's completely up to you. However, as I know from experience, by then you're going to be pretty bloody tired and the last thing you're going to want to do is think through the specifics of five more worlds."
I saw Rupert nodding in agreement as I said that, which seemed to reassure the Party Chairman.
"Later, once you're rested, then you can certainly come back and fix them in your image. Equally, there might be some merit to getting people you trust to form the subsidiary worlds in each bloc, within certain guidelines, and giving them responsibility for overseeing their own world. However, the Protectors would obviously be the final arbiters of what fitted within their area of responsibility, and due to their link with the Shadows within their blocs, they would still have overall control there. Does that make sense to everyone?"
I looked around to nods and murmurings of agreement from all concerned, and breathed a sigh of relief. At least the first stage - getting them to buy into the concept - had succeeded.
"Let's get this over with," Andrew said, and we got to work.
The first stage was forming the link between myself, Rupert and my son. Trump would probably have been the easiest way, but with Rupert's Aurellian aspect, I was reasonably sure that what we got couldn't be trusted. However, there was also the natural link I had to both my son, and unfortunately, to my brother since our sojourn in each other's immortal flesh. I got the Sable Jewel out of my pocket and hung it around my neck as a focus. And then, quickly and confidently, I temporarily strengthened those links using a combination of will power and mind magic.
A few minutes later, we were communicating with each other at the speed of thought, and I extended the link out to Peiper. Now that was a very odd experience. Like his body, his mind was solid, real even, but there was a quality to it I didn't understand. Maybe an echo, or a feeling of emptiness. Or maybe it just felt so...alien. It was hard to pin down. However, hopefully, it wouldn't affect the Working, and maybe whatever it was would become clearer.
"So which way is out?" Rupert asked.
I brought up a lens, felt for New Oceania and then indicated the metaphysical other way. Then I felt for three equidistant points around the eighteen New Worlds, and sent them the co-ordinates. Moments later, there was a "stretching" on the link, as it adapted to the fact that we were now in three different locations, and we were ready.
The speed of thought made it far easier to transmit the information I needed to teach them of what I'd learned of the Shadow tags when building Murray, how to use it here, and the specific signatures they needed to employ on their respective blocs. Rupert and Andrew spent a moment or two processing, then acknowledged that they understood, and with Peiper's guidance on the logistics of moulding the Mountains, as it were, the three of us began to work, with the others keying off me as the centre, using the Jewel as a focus.
It was a very delicate process, and I have no idea how long it actually took. Peiper's part in it was restricted to guiding on the most efficient way to mould the malleable Shadows, so they would accept the tagging and we could build the barriers. It was obviously something he had spent some time studying, as his instructions were clear and concise. Soon I could feel that the six Shadows I had taken responsibility for were now part of me...part of the Sable Pattern... and through the link to the others I could feel that their own worlds were in the final stages of being tagged to their own systems.
Once that was done and the next stage was to erect the Shadow barriers between the worlds we were working and the next ring in, and building in the token system around the whole boundary, to allow the passage of approved persons. I could feel the others debating whether to block the outer rim as well, but we mutually concluded that alarms informing the Protectors of anyone coming on-Group without a token would probably be sufficient, once they were plugged into the system.
Another indeterminate amount of time passed, but soon everything was in place in that regard. I paused for a moment, to take a breather and look around me. Thomas was watching with interest, and I saw that he had a Pattern lens up.
"It's always fascinating watching you work with the Pattern," he commented, as he realised that I was aware of what he's doing, "how much of that is learned, and how much is what you've picked up since you Created Sable?"
"About half and half, probably," I answered, "did you get what we were doing?"
"I think so. I've never seen Shadow worked quite like that before. We really have that in the Sable Mountains as well?"
"Unfortunately...which is why we also have Valhalla. Although Valhalla is something of a special case, as it was fixed with both Family Blood and a Death Blessing, so it has stayed solid, instead of fading away. What we're doing here is fixing the New Worlds in an equivalent way, with the Jewel offering the stability they need, preferably without either bleeding or dying."
"As long as Dad doesn't get his hands on Uncle Rupert."
"Hopefully he wouldn't be that stupid. Are you ready?"
"As I'll ever be," he replied, and I brought him into the link. As I did, I could feel Helene-Maria and Conrad joining us as well, and it was time to guide them to become part of the whole.
This time, Peiper stayed in the link to the end helping the other three through the process, and I was both surprised and impressed at how skilled he was with the Pattern. Ever trusting, especially in the face of formerly deceased heads of the Waffen-SS, I kept half an eye on him, just to make sure he didn't try anything unexpected, but as far as I could tell he played it straight.
If anything, this second stage was actually harder. All three of our soon-to-be Viceroys were well versed in higher-Power law, but there were still aspects of what we were trying to do -making them the owners of their respective groups - which were delicate and needed a lot of concentration. However, they learned quickly, especially Conrad, which I suppose shouldn't have been a surprise given how good he seems to be at anything he turns his hand to, and soon I was confident that the links which needed to be made, had been. They were now the sub-owners of their respective six worlds, and keyed into them such that they could decide who could come on Shadow (Andrew, Rupert and myself aside - Creator privilege) and create the tokens which would allow unimpeded passage.
Finally it was done, and by mutual agreement, we broke the links between us. No doubt whatever agreement Peiper had made with Conrad and Rupert would be played out in due course, but that was really their business from here on in. I sighed, and looked around me again, and realised that Thomas and I were standing in a luxuriously appointed penthouse. I concentrated for a moment, taking a more detailed look around me, and realised that the form he had chosen for his world bore a strong resemblance to the old movies of the 1930s from Earth Prime. Interesting choice - I hoped Odessa would approve. More importantly, everything seemed stable and felt as I had expected.
"Has it worked?" Thomas asked, curious, although from his body language I could tell that he was also exhausted.
"It has. Congratulations...and once you've rested up, you need to decide what you want to do about the other five worlds you're now responsible for."
"What would you recommend?"
"If it were me, I'd pick one or two people you trust and let them work the other worlds. Possibly two or three each. You'll be in charge, but it gives you a chance to keep an eye on the macro picture, while they help out occasionally on a micro level."
"Do you have anyone in mind?"
"You could do worse than your Uncle Michael," I answered.
"I thought he was limited by what he could do on the Inside."
"Normally, that's true. Here, however..."
Thomas looked at me, expectantly.
"At heart, the reason this whole thing has been necessary...the reason why this area of Shadow is so screwed up... is because Chartris and his people mixed a ritual using Michael's blood with their attempt to complete the Maniran Broken Pattern."
"And everything went bang..."
"And everything went bang. But because of that, Michael has as a freedom and a flexibility in this region of Shadow that he doesn't have anywhere else on the Inside. And I'd trust him to have my back any day."
"Anyone else?"
"O'Connor. Slightly harder in his case, as he isn't a full Pattern initiate - only Broken - but that should be enough if you and Michael help him, and his tactical expertise could be invaluable to you. Moreover, now he's officially retired, I have the impression he's looking for something to fill his time."
"And you're confident that things won't go bang again if Michael and I work together?"
"You're both canny enough to stop that happening. Chartris wasn't, and he also threw a blood ritual into the mix, which will have been a major wildcard," I answered, "however, fundamentally, the Amber and Sable Patterns can co-exist: I still have both imprints, even if the Amber one doesn't get much use here on the Inside. What you mustn't do is try to combine them together."
"It's a lot to take in."
"You'll manage it...if I didn't think that, I wouldn't have picked you for this. Now, however, I heartily recommend that you go home to Odessa and get some sleep. There's no point trying to do anything else today."
He nodded, suppressing a yawn, and then concentrated for a moment and disappeared into a Trump rainbow, leaving me alone. I took a last look around, admiring the art deco appearance of what would soon be his home away from home, and then brought up a Pattern lens and headed back to Sable.