“The gentleman from
Kobb's Rise is recognized.” Said the Presiding Officer of the
meeting, sitting behind a table with a gavel in his hand. This
bearded, gruff man had been chosen unanimously by those present for
the position, such was the respect all had for him. The Presiding
officer of the assembly was to be called President by the speakers.
“Thank you, Mister
President.” The speaker began. The suit he wore fit him well,
although he wore the clothes of a farmer or soldier most of his days.
“I petition this assembly, this day and year of our lord the
twelfth of June, Twenty-One hundred and twenty-nine, to pass a
declaration of independence, severing ties to Earth and allowing the
people of Lumin to govern ourselves.”
The murmur in the room
became loud as all of the members began talking amongst themselves
and a few shouted recriminations at the speaker.
“You are asking for
war!”
“This is madness!”
Yet, the majority took
the proposal seriously. They had all seen the adversity caused by
being ruled from the distant Earth. They had all been mistreated by
the representatives of that government which remained unseen by them.
Even those expressing dismay and opposition knew it was for good
reason, even if it scared them.
War with Earth was
inevitable.
“If this means war,
Mister President, then let it be of the time and place of our
choosing, when we are strong and the enemy is unawares.” Another
speaker had rose to say.
The gavel hit the table
again. The Presiding member waited until there was complete silence
before saying “I believe a formal motion must be written and read
before we can hold a vote.”
These twenty-seven men
had gathered from every part of Lumin, chosen by local assemblies
kept secret from the authorities loyal to Earth. They had traveled
with cover stories to fool the Earthly gendarme, which tried to
restrict unnecessary travel. The laws against political activity was
strictly enforced from the “star above”, as the Earth's orbital
base was referred to.
One of the members
named Thomas Howell had watched his father be beaten and his uncle
hanged for starting an underground newspaper, Libertas. The
soldiers had burned down the whole house after smashing the hand
press which they had built themselves.
“Mister President. It
is my belief that all men, if they are to be free, and all men ought
to be free, that they must from time to time commit themselves to the
downfall of those who enslave them or seek to enslave them. We are
not a free people. We cannot speak freely, we cannot travel freely,
we cannot do business freely. The tyrants from Earth, once our
brothers, have become slave masters. They believe that all men must
be ruled from Earth, where once they believed in government by
consent. I believe the time has come for the course of history to
flow in the direction of greater freedom and that this flow start
from Lumin!”
The assembly began to
draw up a document that spelled out the abuses of the Earth-installed
bureaucracy and the reasons that Lumin should be a free and
independent world. Pulling down heavy drapes to keep the candle-light
from being visible outside, should agents of the tyranny be snooping
about, the men continued to work into the night.
“We have petitioned
to redress our grievances many times, only to be stamped down firmly
by the viceroys of the star above. The time has come for us to
recognize that we must stand ever more firmly against those who treat
us as if we were their subjects.” Mister Miles Vernon of Lake
Capaldi said. To this one of the doubters exhaled loudly, “What
about war?
Are you ready for that?
Miles, you have four daughters and a Pub to attend to, war will
affect them most dearly.”
“As
does slavery.” He replied, “As does tyranny. As would my
conscience should I not take this chance to fight. If there is war, I
will welcome it should we fight it as if we want to win. No other war
is worth fighting.”
It
was the turn of the overweight doubter to speak. He used his cane to
stand, then held an arm against the table, so that he had to bend
over it a bit. He had a sour countenance and this position made him
look even more grumpy than normal. Mister Malcolm Rutledge was a
poultry farmer from Northern Canton, he had a wife and several
children but also took care of an ailing sister.
“I
completely understand the arguments put forward by everyone here. I
completely agree with the assessment of Earthly rule. I am in
complete agreement with the vast majority of everything that has been
said here this night.” He told them, obviously straining to stay in
his awkward position. “I also believe that it behooves all of us to
understand the true position we hold.”
“What
might that be?” someone asked anonymously.
“They
have purposely kept us technologically backward. They have done this
for generations in order to keep us under their control. We might
build muskets but their armored suits are invulnerable to the lead
ball projectiles.” Malcolm told them with a grimace, “We might
even field cannon, but their shields will repel it as a window pane
repels a fruit fly. Their armored vehicles are not going to flee at
the site of a man on a horse. Their flying vehicles cannot be touched
by us as we are. Furthermore, they are headquartered in the star
above, where we cannot reach them any more than the living can reach
heaven.” He told them through labored breath as his face turned
brighter red. “War? War against that? It is a preposterous idea. We
cannot win that kind of war. Another way must be found...”
He
sat again, exhausted. The others were quiet for a long moment before
the next speaker stood and proceeded as if Mister Malcolm Rutledge
hadn't just pointed out the fantasy they were playing.
Finally the motion
carried. A declaration of independence would be issued against the
Earthly rulers, after a unanimous vote. The doubters knew they were
few and yielded, for a unite front would help the effort, even if one
considered it futile at best.
“I feel as if I have
been cursed to live long enough to see what I have feared most come
true. I have been powerless to stop it and must now throw my lot in
with my fellow Luminmen.” Malcolm Rutledge wrote in his journal. “I
am afraid that I am not young and healthy enough to take a direct
part in the coming battles, but I am not so powerless as to just
observe.”
The assembly was
adjourned. Then members would leave singly or in pairs and make way
to where they had roomed. Most were staying at the homes of
supporters instead of an inn, because they did not wish to have the
authorities know their whereabouts.
“Matthew.” Malcolm
said, moving toward the other man with the use of his cane. The other
man was just as old but he stood erect and with a strong bearing. His
gray beard and hair slightly scraggy and his suit a bit worn. This
was the gruff presiding officer of the completed assembly.
“Malcolm.” he
called back and they shook hands, for they were old friends.
“I need to speak with
you after the rest of us have departed.” The overweight man said,
falling into a nearby couch. “It is supremely important that we win
any war, as unlikely as that seems.”
Matthew Bellow
tightened the smile on his face, sitting in the soft chair opposite
the couch. “Malcolm, my friend, it is the utmost importance that
the rulers know we are not simple supplicants. They must be made to
understand that we demand to be treated as men and not beasts.”
“I might agree if the
circumstance wasn't so dire, Matthew. You want to punch the bully in
the nose to make it clear to him that you are equals.”
The presiding member
sat up straight. “I don't care if he thinks we are equals, as long
as he respects me.”
Malcolm nodded. “Yes,
but this is not a schoolyard bully you are dealing with. Would you
punch a serial murderer in the nose?
Would you dare him to make you his next victim? I think not.”
It
had grown quiet, the others had departed.
Matthew
Bellow rubbed his bearded chin. “Malcolm, is there something I
should know?”
Malcolm
nodded and took some deep breaths. “I am afraid there is. But let
me ask you something before I tell you.”
“Of
course.”
A
shaky finger was pointed at the closed door. “Do you remember
landing day? We were both children back then, of course.”
“I'll
never forget it.”
Malcolm
nodded and cleared his throat loudly. “When we landed on Lumin, we
came down in many shuttles, pods and ships over several years time.”
“That
is true.” Matthew answered, walking to pour a mug of wine for his
old friend. “We used to watch this together from the hilltop where
we lived back then. What are you getting at?”
“What
if I told you that some of those ships and pods still exist? Some of
them were buried in the ground long ago.” The portly man said.
The
possession or use of illegal technology was a death sentence. This
had been true since the Earth forces arrived and taken over the
colony. The original colonists had fled the tyranny but it had caught
them again in only a few years.
“The
moment it is activated they will have soldiers or even a missile on
the way.” Matthew Bellows old his friend. “What will have been
gained?”
His
friend held up a small, red hand with flat palm out. “Let me
explain.”
The
presiding officer nodded and crossed his arms, then leaned back in
the chair.
“I
have listened to their communications over the years.” The man
said, Matthew sat up with alarm but did not interrupt. “They are
ruthless, Matthew. Giving them a bloody nose will not make them
respect you, they will kill you and many more for less than their
nose.”
“If
this is true, we may have killed us all.”
The
fat man nodded but also waved it off. “I believe there is something
I can do to help. I can send a message to the Kritesh, ask them to
join us and help us fight. They have managed to keep their
independence for decades, I think they might help.”
The
only real contact that Lumin had with Kritesh was in trade. The
Kritesh occasionlly sold pottery, silks and satins, spices and
jewelry on Lumin and purchased wheat, corn and beans that did not
grow well on their own world. Earth controlled, taxed and monitored
all trading. Most imported things had to be purchased from Earth or
one of its colonies.
The
Earthly authorities decided that allowing a small trade with Kritesh
was showing humanity and kindness and expected to be praised highly
by locals. It was infrequent enough that it made no real economic
impact, but it might have given the Kritesh a good impression of
Lumin.
“You'd
risk your life. I was wrong. You would end your life to send a
message?” Matthew asked, “How do you know they would receive it?
Act on it? Maybe they would not want to get into a war for us?”
“Matthew,
listen. I once broke a Kritesh vase, by accident. Inside the thickest
part of the pottery was a chamber and I found a parchment tucked into
it. I found a letter, signed by a Lee Myung-Jun. The letter expressed
hope that Lumin could be free, it gave me coordinates and frequencies
if I wanted to send them a message.”
Matthew
Bellows waved his hand. “That could have been written a decade
ago.”
“At
least that long ago.” Malcolm agreed.
“Still,
you will give up your life to send that message?”
Malcolm
nodded. “There is a way to send a compressed data file in such a
small signal that the star above might not find it.”
Matthew
shook his head. “They will find it instantly. We both know that, do
not delude yourself. You are going to martyr yourself, you might as
well know it in advance.”
That
morning while it was still dark Malcolm Rutledge and his personal
secretary Leon set out in a carriage. It was a bit foggy and the
streetlights extinguished all of the stars in the sky except the one
that held the world in thrall.
He
tightened his coat in the slight morning chill, cursed his age, and
listened to sound of the horse hooves on the cobblestone street.
Malcolm had known about the buried capsule since he was a child. As
an adult he had spent many hours inside listening to radio chatter
from across space.
The
star above had never seemed to take notice. He had no doubt that the
Earthly authorities would take immediate action when he sent the
message. If they sent troops in their aerial vehicles he might even
get far enough away before they arrived. If they send one of their
missiles or light beams, he would probably be killed before getting
out of the capsule.
It
had to be done. Lumina would never be free without outside help. The
technological imbalance was far too pronounced. The Kritesh hadn't
promised they would go to war for Lumina, but Malcolm Rutledge
thought they might. Their broadcasts highlighted the struggles for
liberty through human history, they seemed to worship liberty as some
worshiped God. It was a thin shred, but even a shred of hope for
Lumina was better than nothing.
There
were many hours of travel, it would be dark before they arrived in
North Canton. At each rest stop Malcolm Rutledge wrote letters to his
wife and children. These would be delivered by Leon, hi personal
secretary, in the morning. Malcolm was certain he would be dead by
then.
-------
Tara wants to find out what it means to be "The Fourth" and to bring
Earth back from the dead. Greyson wants to go home and clear his name.
Their paths are destined to cross.
apprx 44,000 words
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