The Dark Imbalance by Sean Williams, Shane Dix Read Free Book Online Page B

Castes, the framework for a council was established—a council that would surface from obscurity only when it was needed. All Pristine governors of all Pristine governances know how to summon the council into being, and all know that to do so improperly would have its... consequences.” The word was chosen carefully. “Only the gravest of circumstances can justify such a summoning—as, for example, when the genetic code of our distant ancestors becomes threatened.”
    “But this is not such an occasion, is it?” said Roche. The silence which followed was filled with unspoken disapproval for her interruption.
    “This council,” continued the voice shortly, “was called forty-six months ago, and is now in full session.”
    “Forty-six months ?” Roche exclaimed, not caring whose sensibilities she offended. She wanted answers, not speeches.
    Movement to her right caught her eye as a figure in blue took a step toward her. She interpreted it as a warning against further interruptions, and ground her teeth together.
    “We have been aware of this threat for that long. Only recently, however, did we learn about Sol System. Our data showed an apparent convergence upon this region, although not enough on its own to fix the location precisely. An attack on a nearby system helped us triangulate traffic among the civilizations we’ve been keeping an eye on, suspecting them to be corrupted. We were among the first to arrive here, barely a week ago.”
    The figure to Roche’s right shifted once again.
    “The speed with which word has spread is phenomenal,” the speaker continued. “Ships continue to arrive at the rate of over one hundred every hour. We have reopened several secondary anchor points on the fringes of the system, to act as exits should congestion worsen. If that is not enough, we might have to close the main anchor point altogether. That way, only the most determined will be able to come here.”
    The figure in blue took several more steps forward, close enough now so that Roche could make out the face of a man, the blue-white light from the spike above casting deep shadows in the lines of his aging features. He was the one talking, not the Heresiarch.
    “The situation here is approaching a watershed,” he said. “The council senses a change coming, but does not know what form it will take, or to what purpose it comes. Some of us suspect that you might lie at the heart of it, Morgan Roche, and believe that you can help us with an answer to this question. Will you do so?”
    “Of course,” she said without hesitation. Looking at the Heresiarch, she added: “After all, That’s why I’m here.”
    She saw Vischilglin nod approvingly as she turned back to the speaker.
    “I am Esko Murnane,” he continued. “My superiors in Pompili sent me as their plenipotent envoy to the council, and the council in turn has declared me chairperson for this hearing. You have already met Hue Vischilglin, co-adjutant to the leaders of the Rond-Spellor Outlook. Although a minimum of thirty Pristine nations are required to allow the full and proper council to sit, at present we number four hundred and seven. All have representatives here today, although few, if any, will be known to you. We will, therefore, forgo introductions for the time being. Should you be asked to join our cause, the identities of your questioners will become known to you then.”
    Again, Roche nodded. “I understand.”
    “Good. You stand before the council as a witness to the aftermath of the atrocity that recently occurred in Palasian System, and as someone who appears to have a deeper association with the enemy than most of us here.” The slow steadiness of his speech combined with what he was saying lent Murnane an air of deep, long-standing authority. “All of us have been touched by the enemy, in one way or another, to our detriment and lasting regret. So we are keen now to hear all that you have learned.”
    He paused and looked around the