Edge of Oblivion by Joshua A. Johnston

Author:Joshua A. Johnston [Johnston, Joshua A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781621840718
Amazon: 1621840719
Publisher: Gilead Publishing
Published: 2016-04-15T05:00:00+00:00

12

Titan

Earth Index 1305.026

Troye Carson was considered a rising figure in Confederal politics. At the young age of twenty-four Index years, Carson was one of the youngest Human delegates to the Confederal Congress and had impressed even the most skeptical Riticans with his disarming personality and relentless work ethic. There were whispers that his private life was an exercise in the excesses of hedonism—Ritican pain cults, Aecron drugs, Human alreal fantasies—but even the rumors were known only to a few. The personal life of Troye Carson was one of politics’ best-kept secrets.

And then there was the Voice.

It spoke to Carson, advised him, ministered to him. It came to him during his most self-indulgent moments, a repository of knowledge and foresight so great that he knew it must originate from outside his own mind. The Voice guided him in the deep things, at times giving him intimate knowledge of both his friends and foes to use for the elevation of his own status. The Voice was insistent: one day Troye Carson would not merely be a leader or even a president, but would take his seat as the emperor of the known worlds and a god among sentients.

Insomuch as the Voice had been right in every other instance, Carson knew that this, too, would one day come to pass.

•••

Carson strode with swift but controlled purpose through the lower concourse of the Assembly, a vast chamber where members of Congress gathered to engage in galactic policymaking. The summons to the Congressional floor seemed, to him, to have come at a singularly inopportune time, but the young man was skilled enough in the art of duplicity that he could easily feign intensity even when he was still adrift in the mind-altering effects of his personal indulgences.

The haze quickly cleared, however, as the first argumentative tones from the Congressional floor reached his ears. It was clear that tensions that day were running high, and while most observers had a hard time separating genuine sincerity from political posturing, Carson understood the difference quite well. He had no doubt that the Aecron delegate’s emotions were very real.

“How far does this crisis have to go before this body takes it seriously?” roared the diminutive Aecron delegate with all the fury his small voice could muster. “How long will we go on allowing Navy Command to divert petty task forces to the battle front while the bulk of the fleet lies fallow?”

“With all respect to the delegate,” said Admiral Ghiri, the female Hazionite standing in an officer’s box halfway up the spacious chamber, “the Navy has already lost a sizable number of ships to the Malum planet, including some of our most powerful vessels. It would be foolishness to risk further losses while we still do not even know how to stop it.”

“And when will that happen, Admiral?” the Aecron said. “This week? Next week? The week after? Our intelligence projects that Malum could be in orbit around our homeworld within ten days.”

An exaggeration, thought Carson. Malum was

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