Disclaimer: If you are not pro Word of Blake and do not like pro Word stories this may not be to your liking. Arguments and comments are always welcome :)
Perth
Western Desert, Australia
Terra
7 July, 3052
Last night I had a dream. I lay there in my bunk as a pale light began to grown in the darkness. Out of it stepped a man, a man I recognized only from pictures. "Blake!" I exclaimed. His presence just washed over me and I felt the urge to rise from my bunk. I was compelled to follow him. And follow him I did. He led me along dim corridors to a darkened room without a word. We had walked for some time and I was growing weary when he unlocked this room. As we stepped inside I sneezed and the lights sprang to life.
Before us were hundreds of bookshelves. They were long unused and covered in dust. He pointed to a shelf and spoke for the first time since our meeting. "Begin there. Your quest for knowledge is only beginning. Follow the path of my teaching and you will find enlightenment."
I was stunned. I regarded him in silence for several long moments, my brain suddenly trying to figure out if he was really there. "You are the Blessed Blake," I murmured. "Why would you come to me? I am not but a lowly archaeologist."
"You are a wise man Mick. Your thirst for knowledge and wisdom have drawn me to you. You are smart enough to follow my teachings wisely." Suddenly a puff of acrid smoke filled the air. A muffled pop sounded and I found myself back in my spartan chambers. "You seek wisdom." In a flash I knew where I had just been. Sitting up in my bed I was instantly awake. The knowledge of what I had just been shown, burned into my synapses.
Bzzz…Bzzz
Mick opened his eyes and rolled out of his bed to answer the summons. Slapping the panel beside the door he straightened as much as the cramps in his muscles would allow. Before him stood an illuminated shadow. “Can I help you?”
“Dr. Michael Trevelyn?”
“Mick. Haven’t gone by Michael since I was a kid. Do I know you?” He fumbled for the light controls.
“Don’t turn on the lights Doctor. Step inside, if you please.”
The press of cold steel against his neck was enough incentive for him to comply. His hand fell away from the controls and he stepped back. His legs came up against the table and he stopped. “What are you going to do with me?” He berated himself for the tremor he heard in his own voice.
“Relax Dr. Trevelyn. We’re just going for a little ride. Into the bedroom.”
His back stiffened and he straightened away from the table. “I don’t think so. Until you tell me what’s going on and identify yourself I’m not budging.”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk…Dr. Trevelyn. I took you for having more sense than that.” The sigh that accompanied the words gave him a moment of pause. “I really don’t want to cause a scene when we leave son. Just come along peaceably and we won’t have to wake the nosy little old lady next door.”
“Mrs. Cooper? What does she have to do with this?” Mick pushed away from the table and took a step towards the silhouetted figure. “You won’t lay a finger on her!”
Laughter bubbled from the figure’s lips. “Nonsense! We’re not interested in her. It’s you we want doctor. Now, let’s move into the bedroom. You need clothes.” The voice took on a lethal edge. “Come now doctor. You don’t want to make me angry.”
The unmistakable sound of a slide being pulled back into position broke his paralysis. Moving as quickly as his stiff body would allow he made his way back into the bedroom. “Can I at least turn a light on? I need to be able to see what I’m putting on.”
There was a rustle of heavy cloth and a grudging response. “Hurry up. The longer I’m here the more attention we will draw.”
Touching the lamp beside his bed, Mick turned back to the dresser. He caught a flash of dark blue from the corner of his eye and looked up. His hand was still in the drawer he’d just opened when he turned to face the robed individual. “You’re from Comstar.” It was more statement than question and he wished he could see the hooded face. “I’ve been waiting for you for a long time.” He could tell he took the robed individual by surprise, but it no longer mattered. He quickly dressed in a pair of dark slacks and a tight fitting turtleneck, also black. Reaching into the top drawer of his dresser, he pulled a thin book free and turned to face his guest. “I was given this many years ago.” Dropping onto the bed he winced and outfitted his feet in sturdy black shoes.
The idle flipping of pages was the only sound in the room for several minutes as Mick gathered his thoughts. Opening a drawer in the nightstand he pulled out a slim black case and rose. Turning to his visitor he nodded. “I’m ready.”
“You will not need personal effects. All will be provided for you.” The book hit the plush carpet with a muffled thud.
“I’m afraid I can’t leave this behind.”
“Let me see it.”
Hearing the command for what it was Mick opened the case and passed it over. “Insulin. They diagnosed me six months ago. As you can see I can’t leave it.” He rose from the bed and took the case back. Snapping it closed he looked at the Adept. “I’m ready whenever you are.” Slipping the case into his jacket pocket he donned the garment along with a battered black fedora and headed towards the door leading to the living room. He looked at a row of pictures lined up on the bookcase, waiting for the man in robes to join him. He felt a hand grip his arm and turned.
“We’re going now. We have much to do.”
Mick sensed the urgency and hustled out the door. What has him so worried? When they were outside the building his question was answered. Sirens filled the air and an orange glow brightened the dark night. He saw no more as he was hustled into a long sleek hover car. The car lifted on a cushion of air and sped away before the first of the emergency vehicles arrived.
-----------------------------------------
Mick stared at the white walls of the featureless cell he’d been ensconced in for hours. It had taken them roughly fifteen minutes to get to the facility where he was now held. I’m glad to be in this featureless cell. It’s far better than being in his company. Blake knows, he makes me about as comfortable a mouse in a Sydney Funnel-Web spider’s lair. Closing his eyes he let his breathing even and slipped into a meditative state that the Aboriginal’s had taught him. His mind drifted over the subterfuge that had been achieved in his ‘abduction’ and he frowned. The sound of the door opening was enough to bring him out of his meditation, but not enough to make him open his eyes. Footsteps came closer to him, yet still didn’t make him open his eyes.
“You are not asleep. Come with me.”
“Blake in all his wisdom still found time to reflect. You have decided what my fate is to be, then?” Mick rose to his feet in one fluid motion and turned to face the door. “I am ready.”
“Then come with me Michael. You needn’t worry you are safe.”
Mick was handed a white robe. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Put it on and don’t ask questions. Just do as you are instructed from here out Michael and all will be well.”
Life began to return to some semblance of normalcy the longer he was at the facility. Routine setting in made him feel like less of a drifter than any other time in his life. Yet something was still missing. He sullenly stared out across the arboretum deeply in thought. Something’s not quite right. I don’t agree that Blake’s vision was to keep technology from the Inner Sphere. It is our job to ensure that humanity doesn’t fall into a Dark Age. We must be forceful with the successor lords, but only because they are too stubborn to listen to reason. Do we have a right to subjugate the people for the foolishness of their leaders? Mick sighed.
Behind him there was a rustle of leaves and an arm appeared beside him. The hand attached held a nondescript envelope. “What the…?”
“Take it trainee. Be at the gates to the compound at seven o’clock tonight. Dress warm.”
With a rustle of leaves the arm and the voice were gone. Mick looked at the envelope for several moments before he turned it over to break the seal. He continued to puzzle over the voice as he slit the heavy envelope open with his pinky nail. It was familiar to him he just couldn’t place it. Cursing his luck he shook the folded pages into his lap. It was a letter addressed directly to him and a copy of several of his journal entries. His frown grew darker then he began to read and his scowl turned to a look of utter dumbfounded surprise.
Brother Michael-
As a trainee in our holy Order you may not yet be aware of everything around you. You have been with us for barely six months and as of yet have not found your true niche. Your own words show to us the true discomfort of your situation. We can help you. We can teach you the truth of Blake’s wisdom. We must lead the peoples of the Inner Sphere into a golden age. It is our duty to bring Blake’s vision about.
…should it become necessary. We are armed with the knowledge and technology that will make it possible for us to succeed. If we come together and work as one to achieve Jerome Blake’s goal, we will see a new Golden Age. Join with us in our fight to make Blake’s vision a reality.
He folded the letter and clutched it in his lap for the space of several heartbeats. How did they, whoever they are, get ahold of my journal? What do I do now? They know I’m dissatisfied with my place that something doesn’t quite click for me. His thoughts were interrupted again by the rustle of the leaves. The bushes parted revealing a soft brown deer and her fawn. Blowing out a tense breath he shoved to his feet. He placed the envelope and its contents inside his inner pocket, beneath the robes. Returning to his dormitory he picked up his studies and silently watched the clock.
Having learned the consequences of skipping meals he set his stylus down at half past five and rose. Changing into the black pants and shirt that he had worn to the facility months ago, he donned his robes and went to dinner. Nerves made his stomach churn. What is this all about? He picked at his roll. What the heck am I doing? Am I doing the right thing? “Won’t know until I do it, will I?” He didn’t realize he’s spoken aloud until he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Trainee?”
Glancing up he saw a man in a green robe standing over him. “Forgive me Demi-Precentor.” He scrambled to his feet and saluted. “Sir!”
“Are you feeling well trainee? You have been muttering to yourself for nearly ten minutes.”
“I’m sorry sir. I was lost in thought. Exams tomorrow, sir.”
“Yes well, see to it that you study in your dorm from now on. The mess hall is not the place to be muttering to oneself.”
Duly chastised Mick saluted again. “Yes sir.” he stood still as stone until the Demi-Precentor walked away. Retrieving his dishes he hurriedly disposed of them and headed towards the front of the building. Making his way to the gates, he showed the guard his badge. “I’m heading into town for a little rest. I have exams tomorrow and need to get away for a bit.”
“Do you have clearance from your Demi-Precentor?”
Mick looked puzzled. This was the first time he’d attempted to leave the compound since his arrival six months prior. “I was unaware that I needed it. I could…”
The guard smiled at him. “Just a second. I’ll call him.”
Mick heard the one-sided conversation from inside the small control center. When the guard poked his head back out to ask what his destination was, he smiled. “I’m going into town to watch Gone with the Wind. It’s a classic. I’d be gone for roughly six hours.” He heard more one-sided conversation, finally ending with a dignified, “As you wish Demi-Precentor. I will relay that for you sir. Yes, Demi-Precentor. You have a good evening too.”
When the guard turned back to him he had his arms folded into his robes. “May I go?” The guard’s nod brought a sigh of relief to his lips. “Thank you.”
“Demi-Precentor Trainer says to have a good time, but remember that you uphold the vision of Comstar. And next time,” Mick took the badge the guard held out. “Talk to your Demi-Precentor before you wish to leave. It saves time.”
Mick nodded mutely and passed through the gates. He walked several paces down the road as the gates were closed. He stopped and waited against the wall behind a creeping vine. Glancing at his watch he saw he had roughly five minutes until seven o’clock. He plucked several long stems of grass and began weaving them together. He was surprised when a black rotunda groundcar pulled to a stop before him and the window scrolled down revealing a hooded figure.
“Michael Trevelyn?”
He nodded. “And you are?”
“Get in.”
“Where are we going?” He wasn’t afraid as he recognized the voice.
“You will see. And take off those robes. There is a set in the backseat for you. Your robes would stick out like a sore thumb and you would be made an example of.”
Puzzled, Mick rounded the hood and doffed his white robes. Tossing them on the backseat he pulled out a dark set of robes with red trim and put them on. Dropping his lanky frame into the bucket seat he barely closed the door before the car was speeding into the lengthening shadows. “Where are we going friend?”
“Bruce. Adept Bruce Tjulander. We’re going to a meeting. I was once like you.” The hood was pulled back revealing a man of about twenty-five. “I used to be in the same boat as you Michael. Once you listen to what my superiors have to say you’ll feel better. Better about your place in the Order and see the truth of Blake’s wisdom revealed.”
Mick turned sideways in his seat. “Is there a way to bring the light of knowledge to the Inner Sphere? Are we just going to sit on the technology for the rest of eternity while we wait for these fools to turn the Inner Sphere into one witch hunt after another?” Deep booming laughter filled the small compartment.
“You sound much the way I did three years ago. You will find the answers you seek Michael, I promise!”
Mick looked out the window in silence for the remainder of their trip. When the car pulled to a halt in front of a high stone privacy fence he turned to his companion and spoke in a tongue he’d not spoken in a year. He was playing a hunch, but based on the man’s accent he figured he couldn’t be too far off the mark.
“You are familiar with Western Desert Language?”
The response had been in kind and told Mick all he needed to know. Switching back to Star League Standard he replied, “My father’s mother was Nygaanyatjarra. I grew up in the Great Victorian Desert with my grandmother’s people. But then you know this already don’t you Bruce? It has been a long time since we met but I remember you.”
His companion smiled. “Yes, it has been a long time. I was a mere acolyte of the misguided then. Come on, we should join the others now. I believe you will find the evening most enlightening.”
Mick stepped out of the car and shrugged his shoulders to shift the dark blue robes back into position. Pulling the hood up to obscure his face he turned to face the other man. “Is this acceptable?” He heard the other man laugh and froze as he rounded the hood of the car.
“Your cowl is supposed to be further forward. Your identity obscured completely. Normally the way you have it would be fine. However, this time you must remain unknown to the others. Do not speak unless either the Precentor or myself direct you to do so. Do you understand?”
Nodding Mick followed. He felt a moment of trepidation as he stepped passed the guards outside the fence. Once inside he was struck speechless. There were thirty or forty other individuals wearing a variety of colored robes standing near a small dais with a podium. He stood rooted in place drinking in the sights and sounds, not really processing any of it until he was jabbed from behind. “Oomph!”
“Don’t just stand in the doorway Michael. Let’s grab a seat near the front. That way you can get the best information.”
When a tall dark gray robed individual pressed a data pad into his hands, Mick looked up. His eyes rounded in surprise as he recognized his instructor of Theology, whose class he had an exam in the next day. “Demi-Precentor Franklin!” The words were out before he realized it.
“Welcome Brother Trevelyn. Peace of Blake be with you.”
“And with you.” Mick’s mouth curved in a confused smile. He turned his attention to the data pad. The screen blinked with a small print message. Authorization Required. Thumbprint verification, please. “What the…?” He felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Please take your seat Brother. We are about to begin.”
He was ushered to a seat in the front row. Looking around he discovered that Bruce was in the next row in the seat directly behind his own. He mouthed, “What now?” After a moment he saw Bruce smile and gesture for him to face forward. Frowning, Mick turned to face the front. A man in a pure white robe approached the podium and spoke in a melodious voice.
“Good evening Brothers. Peace of Blake be with you.”
“And with you,” the assembled responded as one.
“There are those among us tonight that are lost. Let us take this time to help them as our Blessed Founder teaches.” He looked out across the gathering. “Jerome Blake’s wisdom has survived all these centuries because we have not wavered in the mission he set down for us. We do not chant our lore to make the machines work like our misguided brethren do. We preserve the knowledge our Blessed Founder gave us and give thanks for his wisdom.”
Mick’s heart began to race as excitement tingled through his body. Agitated, he shifted in his seat. The more he listened, the more he wanted to jump up and do something. He slid forward to the edge of his chair and felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning he glanced back with frosty eyes. The tirade he had been prepared to unleash died on his lips. He gave Adept Tjulander a sheepish smile and sat back in his seat. When an increasingly familiar voice spoke near his ear he flinched. “Relax Michael. We all feel the same our first time. Your judgement will be tempered by Blake’s wisdom, I promise. We will adjourn in a few minutes for refreshments. Stay in your seat.”
He nodded his head in acceptance and turned back to the speaker.
“…and their fanatical belief in secularization are dangerous to our mission. Blessed Blake’s vision is being skewed and turned into a profiteering racket! They are using the technology to make money, not to guide the Inner Sphere back to a golden age of civilization! Our Brothers have bought the line of that heretic Focht!”
The uproar that followed the end of the speech was deafening. Mick was nearly knocked from his seat as the robed individual beside him jumped up shouting “Long live Focht!” When two white robed individuals appeared and escorted the man away Mick breathed a sigh of relief. The folding chair beside him was removed and a hand descended on his shoulder. Jerking in surprise he found himself nearly nose to nose with his escort. “You scared the crap out of me!”
“Come with me. Hurry!”
Puzzled by the urgency in his companion’s voice he opened his mouth to protest.
“We don’t have time to argue right now Michael! Just follow me!”
He ran as directed. When he found himself beside the car he had come in, Mick got in without hesitation. The car was pulling back onto the road when he heard a melodious voice from the backseat. Whipping around all he saw was shadows.
“This is the young trainee you spoke of Adept Tjulander?”
“Yes Precentor Warburton. Michael Aristodemos Trevelyn, is an archaeologist from Australia. It was there that we met and I shewed him the path. I believe he is sympathetic to our cause.”
“Hmm…” The rustle of robes could be heard in the momentary silence of the car. “Tell me Michael Trevelyn, what do you believe our purpose is?”
Mick stared out the window on the driver’s side and frowned. “It depends greatly upon what you mean by our?”
“The Order, Michael, don’t be cute!”
He shot a look at the driver. “I was merely seeking clarification Bruce. Don’t patronize me!” He turned his attention back to the shadowy figure in the backseat. “Precentor Warburton, I believe your question is fair and deserving of an answer. The Order’s purpose is as Jerome Blake stated. To protect technology and knowledge, and use it to deliver the Inner Sphere into a new Golden Age of man. The Successor Lords have recovered some of the lost technology, and are perverting it to destructive uses. It is our mission to guide humanity to a peaceful existence, to a time when all men have lain down their arms and live in fellowship with one another.” His heart was pounding painfully in his throat.
The silence was almost deafening. A soft grunt issued from the backseat followed by a rushed exhalation of breath. It was a moment more before the cultured voice spoke. “You are quite right, my boy. We must see that our Blessed Founder’s goals are achieved.
Uniting the Inner Sphere in harmony and teaching them the lost ways is indeed our goal. We must make them lay down their arms and bring them into the shining light of the future. It is for their own good.”
“How can we make them lay down their arms,” Mick queried. “How can we make them do anything? The Successor Lords are stubborn, war-like men.”
Dark smoky laughter filled the passenger compartment, rolling in wave upon wave for some minutes. “Michael Trevelyn, we will make them listen in the only way they can understand… By force of arms!”
In the space of a heartbeat his life had flashed before his eyes and he realized that he had forgotten to grab his packet of mints before he’d gone to the meeting. In the next instant everything was darkness.
-----------------------------------------------
Sandhurst Royal Military College
Terra
27 February, 3058
Operation Odysseus
Adept Michael Trevelyn, as he was about to become stared at his reflection in the floor-length mirror. The dark blue robes shone richly against his sun-bronzed skin. The red picked up the highlights in his deep russet hair. His satisfied smile faltered as the door opened behind him revealing a familiar face. He pulled the cowl of his hood into place to hide the sneer of revulsion his smile became. “Peace of Blake be with you Demi-Precentor Tjulander. Have you come to see the graduation, or are you here on other business?”
“I came to wish you the best today…Adept,” was the careful reply.
Michael frowned darkly at his companion. “Where is your normal enthusiasm, Bruce? Is today not a happy occasion?”
“You tell me, Mickey. Something is troubling you.”
He shrugged. “Perhaps. I am plagued by deep contemplation and rumors. I can feel the storm brewing in my bones.” A knock on the door interrupted his train of thought. “Enter!” The door opened and a thin man in a white robe with a brass medallion appeared in the doorway. “Can I help you cadet?”
“My apologies for intruding Adept. I was instructed to bring this to you.”
Michael took the data chip that the young man held out. “Thank you cadet. You may resume your duties.”
“As you command sir. Peace of Blake be with you.”
“And with you,” Michael responded absently. He stared at the official seal on the chip and wondered why the world just got a little darker for him. Realizing he still had company he smiled thinly. “I’m sorry Demi-Precentor. This is a priority message. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“I have clearance far above yours! Surely you can view this message in my presence! What’s going on Mickey?”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry Bruce, I have to ask you to leave.” When he had shooed his erstwhile companion out the door Michael locked the door. He slipped the chip into the terminal on his desk and typed in his security code. As the computer decrypted the message he drummed his fingers on the desk. Is this the information I’ve been waiting for? Do I finally have the final nail in his coffin? When the message came up he read it quickly. He scrolled through it again, just to be sure of what he’d read. He stared at the computer screen in stunned silence. The telltale broadsword of the Word of Blake stared back, as if unwilling to allow his mind to refute the incriminating information he’d just seen.
It was a test, he knew. His superiors were testing the strength of his heart, his convictions. With a disgusted sigh ejected the chip from the terminal. He knew what was expected of him; and yet he wondered if they knew just how close to the truth their accusation was. Popping a mint into his mouth he thought about how the message had been addressed. Mick! I haven’t gone by Mick since that night in ’52. Why would they resort to using it now?
A wave of dread passed over him as understanding dawned. It has been years since I left behind the trappings of my old life. They seek to test the strength of my convictions. I will not falter! Blake teaches us that we must be strong if we are to weather conflagrations. Perhaps… He stopped mid-thought as the clocked chimed the hour. Rising he slipped the chip into a pocket beneath his robes, adjusted his sword and started off. His thoughts re-gathered as he walked. Perhaps they are requesting information.
Growing more thoughtful he pushed into the sunlight. Cadets were arrayed in parade formation waiting patiently for the ceremonies to begin. Michael joined the other officers in the front row and stood with his hands on the hilt of his sword. He endured the back slapping of his classmates with a grim smile. Determined to keep his smile firmly in place he took a deep breath through his nose and gritted his teeth.
Holding his glass in his left hand he didn’t touch the champagne it held. Never have had much of a taste for this vile drink. His eyes scanned the room looking for a waiter. He spotted instead a white robed individual that he recognized. You stand the same way you did when we met, my friend. Smiling genuinely for the first time since morning, he crossed the room and cleared his throat. “Forgive the intrusion Precentor Warburton, may I have a word with you?”
“Adept Trevelyn? Certainly! Excuse me a moment Gladys, would you?”
Michael stepped away allowing the influential Precentor room to maneuver. Gesturing to an unoccupied corner he preceded the man. When they were alone he pulled the data chip out of his pocket and pressed it into his mentor’s hand. “I was given this chip this morning before commencement. Roger, I know this is a test, but I have other information that proves the test to be a waste of time. The information contained on this chip only adds to the evidence I have been gathering for months.”
“You refer to the loyalties test? But what has this to do with me?”
“Roger, I need to give this information to someone I trust.” He pulled a second data chip from inside his robes. “This chip contains all the evidence I have been able to gather.”
“Michael what are you talking about? Evidence of what? Against whom?”
Michael smiled sadly. “My apologies Roger. I’m referring to evidence I’ve been able to gather on a heretic in our midst. He is misleading our brethren and undermining our noble cause! He is undermining the wisdom of Blake! We have to stop him.” He could feel his face flushing as his anger rose. When the black spots began appearing before his eyes he fished a mint from his pocket. “Blake’s blood!”
“Do you know this heretic’s name?” There was enough suspicion in the question to fuel Michael’s anger.
“Demi-Precentor Tjulander,” he hissed. The spots were disappearing and he felt a glass being pressed into his hand. He lifted the glass to his lips without thought. He felt the glass being tipped back until it was empty. When it was he lowered it and nodded to his companion. “Thank you.”
“Calmer now?” At his nod the glass was taken away. “Come with me, Michael. We’ll talk about this in more private surroundings and you can show me this proof you have.”
Two days later he was standing on the parade grounds again. His left hand rested on his hip as he waited for the prisoner to be tied to the stake, which had been driven into the ground. When the guards stepped back he stepped forward unsnapping the safety flap over his holstered sidearm. His voice was cold when he spoke. “Repent heretic! Repent and see the truth of Blake’s wisdom!”
“Blake’s wisdom? You wouldn’t know Blake’s wisdom if it hit you in the face!”
The gobbet of spittle caught Michael just below the right eye. Ignoring it, he slowly drew his Magnum Auto-Pistol and aimed it directly between his former friend’s eyes. “Don’t make me do this Bruce. Repent your heretical ways and rejoin your brethren. Share in Blake’s true wisdom and help us to unite the Inner Sphere in peace.”
“Never! You and your kind would destroy the Inner Sphere not protect it! Damn you for perverting Jerome Blake’s words! Comstar forever!”
Disgust warred with pity. May the Lord receive you, my friend. “So be it.” His shot echoed through the buildings and around the parade grounds for what felt like minutes. When the smoke cleared he could see the lifeless sag of the body before him. Shaking his head he holstered his sidearm and stepped back. “Blessed is the Word of Blake. Clean up this mess!” Turning he walked inside.
“You have done well Brother. You have cleansed the Order of a deadly threat and brought honor on yourself. Peace of Blake be with you.”
“And also with you Brother.” Michael’s spine stiffened and a glint of determination lit his eye. “We have much to do in order to bring these heathens into the Golden Age. Blake’s wisdom must be spread.”
