Loren L. Coleman - Tales of the Jihad - Shadows of Faith 1

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BATTLECORPS

SHADOWS

OF FAITH

by Loren L. Coleman

A people always ends by resembling its shadow.

~Rudyard Kipling

The truest light often casts the darkest shadows behind men.

The power of true faith is never to be taken lightly.

~Jerome Blake

TALES OF THE JIHAD

BATTLECORPS

-Prolog-

World Cathedral

Hilton Head, Terra

12 September 3067

“Something must be done!”

Cameron St. Jamais smiled, hearing the strong voice of Alexander

Kernoff rise above the din of the arguments. He hid his grin be-

hind a hand, smoothing down his thin, dark goatee as Kernoff’s

powerful command swept through the dimly-lit Spire reverberat-

ing in power not wholly natural. Its sheer volume shook the five

crystalline podiums growing up out of a translucent floor, but an

undercurrent of angelic harpsichord and some time-delay echo

gave Kernoff’s voice its real strength of conviction and god-like

authority.

Precentor ROM had broken the safeguards restricting use of be-

havior modification synthesizers within the Spire. Again. Or he’d

subverted the latest True Believer tasked with maintaining those

encryption algorithms.

Either way, Cameron counted it another victory for the Toyama.

Someone, after all, must bring order. Especially as this latest

gathering of the Ruling Conclave had gone the way of so many

before it. A tug-of-war between Word of Blake’s two strongest fac-

tions. Power brokering. Agendas to promote. Plans laid against

the future. And, always, a wealth of resources to divide.

Hilton Head Island was no stranger to such activity, of course,

having been so long under the aegis of ComStar. And here as

well was where Word of Blake chose to return their own seat of

BATTLECORPS

Shadows of Faith • Page 3

power, constructing their World Cathedral over the ruins which

had once housed the First Circuit. A grand edifice, unlike anything

conceived or built by Terra’s former tenants, the cathedral was a

perfect wedding of state and church, historical tribute and tech-

nological advancement. Brilliant, white marble façade set over

strengthened ferrocrete and coated with a laser-refracting glaze.

Wide, columned portico, its thick pillars cored with electronic

countermeasures. And a functional space-defense system—cap-

ital class lasers and particle cannon—hidden within several tall

spires along the roof.

Inside, such devotion to “militant aestheticism” was just as com-

plete. Walls of the nave and chancel paneled with holographic

plates, able to dissolve into the illusion of a woodland setting, a

star-lit spacescape, or battle-scarred plains (among many other

choices) at a command from any one of the Conclave leaders.

An eight-bay transept, each station fully shielded and capable of

assuming full local control over Terra’s hyperpulse generators

and—with careful coordination—the HPGs of several neighboring

star systems as well.

And atop the Genius Loci Tower, the presiding spirit of the ca-

thedral, was the main Spire where only a member of the Ruling

Conclave could be admitted.

A domed observatory with full holographic control of its environ-

ment, currently the five senior precentors manned their individual

stations beneath a nighttime sky filled with bright, bright stars.

Arranged equally around the circular arena, each crystalline podi-

um was alive with a soft, golden glow radiating from deep within.

And as the three men and two woman traded glances with each

other following Kernoff’s excited (and excitable) outburst, a back-

wash of light splashed up against expressions of annoyance, and

concern, and not a little anger.

The bickering faded. Though more, Cameron suspected, as the

others quickly readjusted their own filters to prevent Precentor

ROM from wielding undue influence.

As he himself did, sliding his fingers across the holographic con-

trols displayed above his podium’s glowing, faceted surface. The

dim light played little against his dark skin, and the gold striations

radiating at the heart of his podium—“god stars” Precentor Willis

had once called them—dimmed even further beneath a strong,

blood-red tint. A not-so-subtle hint at the processing power being

used by the Precentor Martial. More than any others among the

Conclave.

BATTLECORPS

Shadows of Faith • Page 4

“Something is being done, Alex.” Precentor William Blane finally

answered Kernoff’s demand. “The Allied Mercenary Command is

being slowly marginalized.”

Precentor Blane stood to Cameron’s left. Leader of the True

Believers faction and a friend of Captain-General Marik, Blane was

often the public face of Word of Blake. As usual, he leaned lightest

on his podium’s resources. His “heart” was pure and golden. The

backwash of light turned his white, brocaded robes a soft, buttery

gold. His eyes looked like sunken pits, however. His face drawn

and haggard.

Too many days spent fasting? Or too little sleep?

Blane passed a shaky hand over his podium, activating a pre-

set program. Overhead, the holographic representation of a Milky

Way spacescape faded down to black, to be replaced by a much

more basic map of the Inner Sphere. The five Great Houses. The

minor powers, including what was left of Rasalhague. The Clan

holdings. Thousands of star systems representing billions upon

billions of lives, all paying homage to their petty, nationalistic gov-

ernments.

Two systems in that backdrop glowed unnaturally bright. Terra.

Birthplace of humanity and seat of power for Word of Blake.

And Tharkad.

“It is a time to tread cautiously,” Blane said. “The third transfer

of power is upon us. In just over two months, the Star League

convenes its fourth triennial conference. The first order of busi-

ness will be a motion to elevate Word of Blake from probationary

status within the new Star League to active membership with full

voting rights.” He looked about. “We do not want to tip our hand

ahead of time.”

“Nothing is more important,” said Precentor Laura Chang on

Cameron’s right. A tall, slender woman with military bearing,

towering above her podium, and another True Believer if only by

default. One of few Expatriate leaders to survive the last two years

of purges, she kept a strong core of her followers under Blane’s

guidance to help balance out power within Word of Blake.

“Of course you would agree with Precentor Blane.” Dampening

fields dropped Kernoff’s voice to an acceptable level, though a

slight, off-focus timber had Cameron wondering if Word of Blake’s

spymaster still slipped behavior modification undercurrents into

BATTLECORPS

Shadows of Faith • Page 5

his tone. “It took Victor Davion’s ascension as ComStar’s Precentor

Martial to open your eyes to the light.”

Chang leaned away from St. Jamais, toward Kernoff on her other

side. “My eyes have remained always open, Precentor ROM.”

Still, Cameron did not miss the shadow which drifted across her

face. Similar to the one which darkened the “god star” shining in

the heart of his podium. Again, Cameron stroked the thin goatee

shading his chin.

What was Chang hiding?

Not her aversion to Alexander Kernoff, or the Toyama faction,

that much was certain.

Cameron lowered his hood, laying it back across his shoulders,

then returned his hands aside the podium to grip the cool, faceted

edges. “Precentors,” he said. “We’ve no time to quarrel.”

He let a soft touch to his voice carry where shouting might have

been ignored. As the man who commanded Word of Blake’s mili-

tary arm, he had no need to run roughshod over the Conclave. No

one could afford him as their enemy. There were still whispers

about Willima Willis. “God stars” indeed.

“If Precentor Blane has new concerns about the Star League

summit,” he said, “I would like to hear them. Perhaps the ComStar

audit has been more successful than he let on?”

An attack, but a subtle one. And not without merit, his concern.

The resurrection of the Star League in 3058 was, by one way of

thinking, mankind’s first enlightened step in over three centu-

ries. Three hundred years of deprivation and depredation—as the

Blessed Founder, Jerome Blake, had forewarned. Now, possibly,

on the verge of recovery. At the last conference, Blane working

closely with the Free Worlds League’s Captain-General, Word

of Blake had been admitted to the august body as a probation-

ary member. But there had been…concerns. Mainly that the Free

Worlds League enjoyed undue influence over Word of Blake due to

their close political and economic ties. ComStar had been charged

with the investigation.

If the light which flickered so uncertainly on Tharkad (host to this

year’s conference) was indeed Blake’s promised beacon, it would

not do to be caught unawares.

Especially by the heretics.

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摘要：

BATTLECORPSSHADOWSOFFAITHbyLorenL.ColemanApeoplealwaysendsbyresemblingitsshadow.~RudyardKiplingThetruestlightoftencaststhedarkestshadowsbehindmen.Thepoweroftruefaithisnevertobetakenlightly.~JeromeBlakeTALESOFTHEJIHADBATTLECORPS-Prolog-WorldCathedralHiltonHead,Terra12September3067“Somethingmustbedone...

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