Aur Child

Freyja held her shoulders back, high and proud. Murmurs of dissatisfaction made their way to where she stood.

“A complete catastrophe!” Council President Bren Husk yelled as he slammed his enormous paw on the dais. His lion avatar dwarfed those of the other members seated behind the table. Frustration expressed as blame, yet Freyja remained confident. She had been careful to ensure that the council approved every action along the way. The facts were plainly there. It was their fault. All their fault.

“The council and the Guests grow impatient.”

Bren reviewed the individual losses in bitter diatribe.

“We’ve lost a ship. A ship!” He looked around the room. “We only have two, people.” He growled deep within his throat. “Two junior entities lost. Guest Talle’s Aur boule is missing with the ship. Two other Guests’ boules will likely be removed from the boule cluster since the reports suggest their exosouls are unlikely to be recovered, including,” he nodded his head towards the avatar of Bai Ye’s doubling, “our honored Council Member Cai. And four of our best-maintained bodies to boot, including the one in which Guest Digambar could have easily sailed home with but instead abandoned due to,” he stopped to consult the report, “ah yes, ‘insurmountable suffering’.” He snarled, baring massive canines. “Instead of capturing new Aur boules, we’ll be down three.”

“This mission has been riddled with failures. To make it worse, we fail to recover the Aur boule that was at our doorstep! We fail to learn the location of the Odyssey, and we lose another recently acquired body in this debacle at the forest-dweller’s cottage. And to add insult to injury, Guest Thyme Baddin,” his claws tore deeply into the surface of the dais, “the fool, abandoned all his training and experience and practically revealed everything about us to two witless Tellurians!” He turned to Freyja. “What was it that the man you recommended said to that Tellurian peasant before we managed to shut him up and yank him back to Yellow Reserve?”

Freyja licked her lips before squeezing them together. She resented Bren’s attempt to embarrass her in this way more than the stupidity of Guest Baddin’s egotistical diatribe, but it would be beneath her to speak the words she was asked to repeat, so she replayed the audio recording of that scene.

“So, give us a kiss goodbye, love!” Baddin’s voice echoed through the chamber.

The room was silent. Or, more precisely, aghast. No one dared argue these points. The mission had been a catastrophe. Worse than that, the revelations Thyme had made to Sann-Na put Yellow Reserve at great risk. Their location and their intentions had been laid bare. The faces of the council members – those who had them – were sullen and grave. Apollo, seated to the side where Freyja stood as counsellors to the proceedings, did not move. Freyja could see the pained expression on his face. She noted his discomfort with the way Husk referred to his two sons merely as “junior entities”. Nothing more than a piece of equipment, boat rigging, a Telluric body. Freyja would normally correct an error such as this, but her intimacy with Bren Husk was so convoluted that she chose to keep quiet. Any resistance at this point would only complicate her own agenda.

“Well,” began the appointed doubling of Guest Bai Ye Cai who was standing-in for her lost original soul, “What do we do now?”

“I’m not sure if it is wise to do anything,” Guest Frank Phelps grumbled. “Doesn’t the Council President think we have overextended ourselves enough?”

Bren Husk took a moment to consider the options. His narrow eyes suggested that he didn’t like any of them.

“My greatest concern is that of trust. As this council knows, there is much disagreement among the Guests. We are nearly split down the middle about what to do. We face an existential risk due to our power budget, on that much we can agree. But whether to search for new boules or to further the austerity strategy, we simply cannot come to a common understanding. And believe me,” he said, nodding and looking around the room, “I empathize with their concerns. They have already sacrificed hundreds of doublings and thousands of treblings to improve the situation, yet we still say it’s not enough. How much more can we ask of them?”

The spherical room was silent, so Bren continued. “There is also much confusion. There is misinformation, disjointed messaging, and outright lies being told to many of us, oftentimes in the form of promises about what one might do if one were in power. It tears at the seams of our solidarity.

“No, I fear for all of us. And I fear for the members of this council. To take action without first improving trust, we run the risk of antagonizing those who already find us disagreeable. We simply cannot take the chance that people feel we are attempting to selfishly usurp power during these uncertain times. Although we have been honored with this role, this responsibility, we must acknowledge that the seeds of uncertainty sewn by those who wish us to fail have sprouted and thickened, and if we blindly decide without acknowledging that uncertainty, we run the risk of complete and irreversible alienation from those who doubt our sincerity. I respect that danger and I believe we must act in respect of it too. Therefore, we must turn back to those who have always served as unbiased mediators and ask of them to once more guide us in the right direction, even if they too have been proven to be far from infallible.” He turned towards Freyja and Apollo with a scowl. “What do our stewards advise?”

Laying it back on us, Freyja thought. As always. Just as she had planned. She was quick to respond.

“Mr. President, dear council, it is true that there have been many undesirable aspects of recent events. It is understandable to focus on these. However, if we are to consider the circumstances in an objective manner, we should also state the positive facts.”

“Here we go again. The ‘we know better’ team will think us through the problem and invariably lead us into more failures.” Guest Phelps pursed his lips.

It was human nature, Freyja understood, but it was still unpleasant. Moreover, this outburst was done in another attempt to deflect the blame for what had happened. They expect a level of decorum to be upheld in this room until it is convenient for them to ignore it.

“Order, Councilman Phelps!” Husk demanded. “We will have order in the chamber. Please proceed, Freyja.”

Freyja scanned those present and then continued. “The facts are that our reconnaissance methods continue to prove successful. We located the Aur boules in the Gjoa and Hill Villages. We managed at least to disturb their place in hiding. In a word, we were very close.”

“Little good, that,” commented Phelps.

“Councilman Phelps! We will have order in this chamber!” Husk boomed across the dais. He rapped the glossy arcs of his extended claws loudly on the table like five razor-tipped gavels. When the room returned to silence, he nodded to Freyja.

“Another fact is that, to the best of our knowledge, the Odyssey, Calliope’s surrogate, as well as Calliope’s son Linus (she emphasized his name and paused to ensure all council members digested this distinction from their previous reference) are not necessarily lost. Statements from the Tellurian Alai-Tiul were that he intends to rendezvous with the Odyssey by returning to Dragon’s Snout. We can assume then that she is standing below the horizon outside the harbor, awaiting the signal to retrieve him. He is likely named captain of the ship; surely Calliope’s surrogate would follow protocol on that point.”

The council members listened quietly. It didn’t hurt to hear the bright side after all the gloom.

“One Aur boule from the three at Hill Village still exists and is not far away. It is in the possession of a Tellurian who still doesn’t understand much about it, or us. The other Tellurian, Sann-Na, who heard the regrettable comments of Guest Baddin, was also confused, although it must be said that those divulgences are the greatest threat to us. Yes, these Tellurians have managed to slip through our fingers – and perhaps we have discounted their abilities to waylay us in their environment.”

“And ours,” Phelps’ interruption was immediately stopped by another rap on the dais.

Freyja continued. “We should not assume they can put all the pieces together and expose us with the little information, and intelligence, they have.”

“You take many leaps to arrive at that conclusion. But what is your assessment, then, Freyja?” asked Husk.

“To a certain extent, I agree with Councilman Phelps. That is, do as little as possible to avoid compounding losses. It appears to me that there are two items worth considering: the Aur boule and the ship. Now, even if we had successfully retrieved all three Aur boules, the benefits to us, or rather, the impacts to our energy balance would, despite the reluctance of many Guests to accept it, have been nominal. With all due respect, it is a hard fact that this council and the Guests at large must acknowledge. Whether or not we ultimately acquire that one outstanding Aur boule, we will face the same challenges here at home. To that point, I submit that further pursuit of the Aur boule in and of itself is not worth the risk.

The room remained quiet, so Freyja continued.

“Then we have the ship, the Odyssey, and her crew. If she does in fact lie in wait outside Dragon’s Snout for the return of her current Tellurian captain, then perhaps more consideration should be given to the value of those resources, to our future operations, maintained secrecy, and, most important, the welfare of her crew. I have maintained, and repeat again, that if the ship is removed from Alai-Tiul, few will believe his wild stories.”

The council mumbled and whispered to one another. Some were shaking their heads in defiance while others seemed to be arguing the logic of these suggestions.

Bren Husk called for order and asked Freyja, “What action would the stewards propose we take on this latter point?”

Freyja looked at Apollo. She had meticulously built her stratagem in anticipation of this very request. She had managed to steer the council to send humans forth repeatedly and fail repeatedly. She had managed to convince them that they could no longer rely on themselves to dig their way out of the problems they had created. If this next step were successful – if, under her adroitness, her surrogate returned with either the Aur boule or the Odyssey, or both – the council and the entire roster of Guests at Yellow Reserve would very likely submit to her as their de facto leader. It would clench her ever-growing stronghold. Her triumph was so near now, and critically, since she was certain her technical authority as admiral of the two-ship fleet, albeit a procedural designation, would allow her to countermand any claim to captainship by the Tellurian Alai-Tiul, she saw no reason she couldn’t succeed in the tiny sortie she had planned to realize that goal.

“I would advise the council to prepare SV Óttar to be deployed as soon as possible to intercept the Odyssey before she makes any progress south.”

The room erupted with opinions of all kinds. President Husk struggled to regain order. Freyja saw Apollo smile openly. If their calculations were correct, Husk would find it impossible to argue against this recommendation.

“Councilwoman Bai Ye, you have the floor,” Husk announced loudly as he banged on the dais. The room settled down.

“I would ask Freyja to explain how she expects us to expedite crew preparations for an immediate deployment, especially considering the troubles we ran into rushing Guest Baddin’s exoporting.” Guest Bai Ye added, “I, for one, will not volunteer again.”

“Ah, that is simple. We don’t,” answered Freyja.

“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” asked Bai Ye.

“It means, we take no crew. Therefore, no further risk to our Guests.” The room was silent with confusion, so Freyja continued. “We will need at least two or three days to prepare the ship itself, and one to two days to sail to Dragon’s Snout, depending on the weather.” She looked at Apollo, “Perhaps Apollo could make an assessment based on our current forecast data. Alai-Tiul will likely be in Dragon’s Snout in five days or less. If we are to have any chance of intercepting the Odyssey before she departs south, we simply have no time to consider crew preparations.”

“So, what?” asked Guest Phelps. “Are we to send the ship off on its own?”

There were chuckles and confirmations from other council members about this ridiculous idea.

“Indeed, Councilman Phelps, that is exactly what I suggest. Recall my original issuance as a maritime navigational artificial intelligence entity, same as Calliope. Calliope cannot be trusted with such a delicate mission, as we have seen, even if she weren’t terminated. What we must do is convince Calliope’s surrogate to abandon protocol, ignore her captain, and return the Odyssey to Cave Quay. Can we really expect Calliope to negotiate with herself? No, that cannot be done without higher authority. As Majordomo, and as admiral of our fleet, only I can order Calliope to do so. Deploy Óttar under my sole command and we shall be underway as soon as a surrogate of myself is compiled into an Aur boule and the ship herself is ready.”

“Your surrogate as her captain?” asked Husk. “And condone a mutiny aboard the Odyssey to boot? Two artificial intelligence entities commanding our only ships without human oversight. It’s a stretch.”

“Then we can solicit fresh volunteers and delay deployment by some days. Or, if you prefer, abandon the idea altogether.”

“It’s against the charter to deploy our ships without a human captain,” Husk said.

“Ratify the charter,” Freyja replied with a shrug.

“I’d rather not,” Husk said.

“Well, then don’t.”

Imagine, she thought, an artificial intelligence suggesting bending the rules and humans arguing the impossibility of the idea. She had had her say, however. The council was not wont to sit back and do nothing. Posturing or pantomime, they had to act or they would undoubtedly be removed by a vote of no confidence. Freyja had calculated that into her strategy. Now it was just a matter of time before they would conclude that her proposal was the only option that didn’t result in a shameful admission of failure to the rest of the Guests, didn’t further exacerbate the boiling feud, and didn’t forfeit the last chance to recover a valuable ship.

The council deliberated the proposal. Freyja listened furtively to every side conversation taking place. She expected Husk to push the council to favor this plan. He was preparing to speak again.

“Majordomo,” he said, as he banged his claws for silence.

“Yes, Council President.”

“This plan of yours. Do you stand behind it one hundred percent?”

Freyja shrugged. Her words were fact. Such frivolous vows meant nothing to her protocol.

“I am confident, Sir.”

There was a pause and a hushed pressure to the chamber’s atmosphere.

“Yet, I and others of the council are still somewhat skeptical of its success.”

“Oh?” Freyja replied somewhat involuntarily. This had not been rehearsed. Moreover, she thought she saw Husk wink in her direction, yet she sensed it wasn’t meant for her. She looked behind her to confirm that the only one nearby was Apollo. That can’t be right.

“Yes, ‘Oh’,” Husk replied. “We require further guarantee if we are to approve of your request.”

Freyja moved to rephrase the context.

“It was a recommendation, Council President,” she said, “not a request.”

He banged his claws on the table for order.

“To approve of your, recommendation,” he said, “we require not a surrogate of yourself to captain Óttar. Rather, we require you yourself to do so.”

“I disagree. A surrogate would be much more practical.”

“Freyja, I hate to challenge you on your word, but I am compelled to bring to the council’s attention that, when you were asked the very same thing on a previous occasion, these were your words.” He played a recent recording of Freyja’s dialogue with the other stewards:

“I would never consent to deploying Óttar with a surrogate coxswain in my fashion.”

Freyja swallowed hard. She turned back to look at Apollo. He held a straight face but refused to make eye contact with her. She understood it was too late.

Bren noticed her look to Apollo. “He had no choice but to provide us with the recording when it was requested of him.”

“With all due respect, Council President, I hardly think that necessary. Besides, who would serve as Majordomo to Yellow Reserve in my absence, or worse, if something were to go wrong?”

“You just reassured us of your confidence, Freyja, one hundred percent. And in your absence, I am sure Calliope will manage just fine.”

Freyja gasped. “Calliope? But she has been terminated.”

“Technically, she has been suspended, pending review of her actions. That review is incomplete at this time, but the current findings suggest she was under significant duress due to the familiar nature of the parties involved in the event in question. I am sure you can make use of your command of human emotions to empathize with that, Freyja. Such a situation should not be expected again. Given the urgent situation, I see no reason she can’t be trusted to run Yellow Reserve during your short absence.”

Freyja clenched her alabaster fists, her knuckles turning even whiter. She jeered angrily at Husk for his duplicity.

Her words were like the flames from a raging kiln. “I will retrieve the Odyssey and return to Cave Quay,” she said, “and then I will resume my position as Majordomo.”

Husk nodded, tufts of his mane waving through the motion.

“So, let us be clear with one another. These are not our hopes of you; they are expectations.”

“Very well,” she said behind clenched teeth.