The Resurrection

"Nothing worth doing can be achieved in our lifetime; therefore, we are saved by hope.... no virtuous act is quite as virtuous from the standpoint of our friend or foe as from our own; therefore, we are saved by the final form of love, which is forgiveness."

-Reinhold Niebuhr

***Forty-five years ago, on a distant planet***

The room was an ornately designed, wood-paneled study. A giant oak desk in the center was flanked by walls of bookshelves, filled with a veritable library: old books, new books, hardcovers, paperbacks, leather-bounds. Deep red curtains covered the windows and the dark sky behind them, and the room was filled with a soft, yellow light that left everything slightly dim, with a somber and pensive atmosphere. There was a soft leather chair in one corner, away from the door, and a table with a chessboard in another corner nearer the door. Besides the expense of the materials, there were a few visible details that gave clues to the owner and the purpose of the room. Two large portraits, each three meters high, were set in spaces in between the bookshelves opposite one another on the sides of the room. The first depicted a man in deep grey robes with a wreath on his head, standing before a large classical building. He was erect and handsome, and had a bright, sanguine expression on his face. The second showed a grey-haired man in the full dress uniform of a top general. He was standing before a flag and had a somber expression, hard features, and intelligent eyes. Swords with silver sheaths sat on two of the bookshelves.

The main occupant of the room was facing the back curtains, apparently deep in thought. Someone knocked at the door and the occupant asked them to enter. A uniformed guard with a beret and a machine gun opened the door from the outside to let the visitor enter. The visitor had white hair and also wore a military uniform, but without insignia of any kind to identify his rank or job. He had a somber expression, hard features, and intelligent eyes, and he seemed very tired. He entered a few paces and stopped, apparently waiting for a response, while the guard closed the door. The original occupant of the room waited for almost a half minute before turning around to show himself. He was dressed in formal business attire and looked at the visitor with searching eyes.

"Please sit down," he said to the visitor, motioning to a chair in front of the oak desk.

The visitor nodded briefly. "Th-thhhhaaankk you, your majesty," he said in a slow, gravelly voice, struggling to articulate the words precisely. He made his way to the chair with a stiff and almost painful gait. The original occupant continued watching him, and the searching gaze was tinged with a dose of sympathy.

"I'd insist that we dispense with the formalities. You can address me by my first name," said the King.

"As you wish," said the unknown officer, still with the struggling voice.

"I'm told that you haven't yet finished your recovery. The doctors advised you to wait but you insisted on getting started with your preparations immediately."

The visitor coughed. "We need to move quickly," he said. "My strength will return faster if I use it."

The occupant waited a moment before responding, apparently refining his mental picture of the old man. He was beginning to feel the reasons why this man had been chosen to lead the monumental endeavor at hand. "Perhaps you'd prefer that I do most of the talking, and you can confirm if you understand or speak up if not."

"That would be fine."

Another pause. "Unfortunately, we haven't brought you here on the firmest of evidence. All we really know for sure is that we lost contact with one of our deep space probes near the Harrimanian Rift... but not before it returned some disturbing signals."

"Signs of technology, yes."

"Signs of human technology... and something else. All very spotty. There's a lot that is unexplained."

"But enough to justify alarm."

"Yes, we think so. It looks like a fleet, and it's headed directly towards Coralende, the jewel of the disapora. It's on that basis we've brought you back here, at risk to your life; we're on the verge of bringing a quarter-million people under arms, and devoting a third of our people to the creation of a warfleet; that will depart from a dozen different planets at hundred different times, all to reach an objective that will take them four decades to reach. The worst part is, we might not even beat them there. Our fleet could arrive to find... nothing. A smoldering crater of a planet. Or worse. And we are almost certain that they know more about us than we know about them. They've probably had agents here for generations, maybe since the first landing. They hold all the cards."

"But people are going along with it."

"Yes, people are going along with it. Imagine the outrage when we announce to the public that taxes are being quintupled and we can't explain why. Better yet, imagine what happens when we make these orders to the Premierships of other planets. They're not used to taking orders. They say that it's all nonsense, they demand to know more, they threaten secession."

"But they're doing it."

"Most of them are. We've had to wrangle concessions from the parliaments of some of the more unruly worlds. They know they can get away with it, because we're dependent on what they do. We have no bargaining power."

"The royal authority still means something to people."

The King sighed. "We've prepared well. Everyone who's achieved a position of authority in the colonies knew that this day had to come someday. And so we're still working together. Because of the legacy of people like King Caleb, who took charge when we first got to this planet." He motioned to the portrait of the man in the grey cloak to his right. "And because of people like the General here," motioning to the portrait of the man in the military uniform to his left, "who kept us together back in the days when we first left Breckinridge, a half millennium ago. When it seemed like civilization might be over forever."

"The General was a fool," said the visitor, suddenly animated in a way that his previous movements never would have suggested. "He deceived the world and he deceived himself. We could never count the number of lives that were lost because of his mistakes."

"If we grow wise in proportion to the size of our mistakes, then the General would be one of the wisest men in history. I can't imagine a greater asset."

The visitor coughed.