I laugh. “Catamite as well. Why not? Words, like weapons and laughter, can be used to silence a voice. I heard a great silence here today. Seated in the shadow of our Dictator, I felt that silence in myself, and I would remain sitting, trusting in our Dictator, had my shame not been too much for my conscience to bear.
“Since my return, I have sought to put the welfare of the Society above all other concerns, including my own. I have asked neither for remuneration nor the return of my personal property. The ships, the legions, the bases, the reserves, I gladly give to the war effort. Instead, I have put myself in debt rebuilding the planet Mercury. I have used my name, such as it stands, not to win territory or glory, but to make peace where it can be made. I have urged conciliation between Rim and Core, between Atalantia and Apollonius, between the loyal people of Mercury and those citizens lost enough to believe Darrow’s Noble Lie. I seek that same object today: peace and the welfare of our Society.
“When I was a child, I was asked by my Sovereign what the Society meant to me. I answered then as I would answer now. The Society is a light in the darkness. My Sovereign then asked me what Gold means to me. Knowing my own opinion meant very little, I echoed the words of our greatest hero, Silenius the Lightbringer. I told her that we are those who tend the flame and shepherd the human flock. But the more I look around, I wonder: where have all the shepherds gone? In their place, I see only wolves and sheep.”
Atalantia’s lips twitch. Togas shuffle.
“My august friends, it is my belief that in our war to combat the demons of our Society, we have fallen prey to our own internal demons. We have been at war so long that we have forgotten not only the purpose of war but our own purpose. Where once we measured our virtues by our sacrifices, by our civic accomplishments, by the expansion of habitability to even the coldest spheres, we now measure them in the quantity of enemy ships vanquished, in the quality of the names notched on our razors, in the gross tonnage of enemy equipment destroyed, and the length of the roads we pave with the bodies of dead rebels. I contend these are not measurements of virtue at all. Even less are they measurements of progress. They measure only our will. But our will for what? What!
“Did Silenius and Akari love war? Did they use war to line their own purses, to vent their rage against the ungrateful masses? Or did they wage war to sculpt the chaos natural in humanity into a future of order and prosperity? Our sacred ancestors knew what we have forgotten: that peace, not war, is our sacred calling. That we were to lead by our example, not to be led by our greed, our hunger for power. I look around, and I am humbled by your acts of valor and sacrifice, but we are no longer a people united by our sacrifice or by our convictions. We are united only in our propensity for self-interest, infighting, and greed.
“Let us call out our great worry: that it is only our enemy who unites us. But what then when our enemy is vanquished? That is the question that haunts us, is it not?” I fling my hand at Dido. “That is what the Rim consul wonders. That is why our Dictator withholds our forces. Why we all look past this war. Because we know the next one hangs over our heads, like the Sword of Damocles, restrained by a single thread.” I look up at Atlas, and so do many others. “If we cannot find common ground today, in two years it will not be the Rising against the Society. It will be Core against Rim. Perhaps even sooner than that.”
No one speaks. It has always been the elephant in the room, the Rim’s greatest fear before they entered the war, why they are held hostage by this delay, this obfuscation, this impasse. Diomedes slowly makes his way back to the Rim deputation. Helios and Dido are paying rapt attention, but they are not my audience today. I scour the Two Hundred with angry eyes.
“Are we so ridiculous to invite another war upon ourselves? Have we forgotten the promise of Gold to our people? They cry out for peace, for stability, the rewards for the sacrifice of their liberty. They are due those rewards, for they have sacrificed. If we are too afraid of each other to find common ground, by what logic should they follow us? What hope do we give them? What legacy do we give our children except might makes right? What inheritance do we leave behind except war after war until the flame of mankind shrinks into the uncaring dark?
“Whether you respect me or revile me, you must admit we face a choice today. Not as Rim or Core, but as a people. Do we believe that Gold should continue this internal game of self-interest and self-destruction to benefit a few of us, or do we make the choice that Silenius and Akari would have made? Do we reclaim our moral imperative, and choose to work together to remind the billions who look to us for guidance that not only can we lead, but we will lead them into a brighter future? It is a choice too important for one person to make for us all.”
I turn to Atalantia. If looks could kill, the maggots would already own my flesh. I soften my voice, imbuing it with the respect her campaign deserves.
“Atalantia, I look at you and see a great general of her people. In our hour of desperation, we appointed you with unprecedented powers. With them you have led us through our darkest days. Truly your name will stand beside Akari and Silenius.” I sigh, apologetic. “Yet, I cannot agree with your proposed course of action—knowing it will sever us from our brothers and sisters in the Rim, knowing it will permit Virginia to devise new schemes for our destruction, knowing that this war will not end with the reconquering of Luna. It will only end with the reconquering of Mars.”
I meet the eyes of the Two Hundred, one by one, lighting in them the same fire I feel building in me. Horatia is incandescent amidst her Reformers. The Falthe are stewing. Julia is examining every face in the room. Ajax watches his father above. His hand does not rest on his razor, but the leather thong of his holster is open.
“Atalantia, you have offered me a gift without equal: the reclamation of my homeland, my family seat. I must be a fool to demur, but I hope I will be mocked as an honorable fool who values the stability of the spheres over my own interests. I cannot accept this gift, not if it comes at the cost of this alliance. I cannot! I will not. My conscience demands better from me than self-interest. My Color demands more from me than silence. Mars must fall!” I shout it again. “Mars must fall! That is why I urge this sacred body—which represents our greatest minds, warriors, and voices of our people—to exercise its rights and vote to veto the Dictator’s decision to strike at Luna and instead favor a resolution to assemble an armada and join our Rim brethren to end this war where it began: Mars.”
For the first time in my speech, I look dead on at Julia. “We have the will to fight our enemy, let us have the courage, the guts, to trust one another. Only then can we show our enemies, our people, ourselves, that when Gold is indivisible, Gold is invincible.”
The silence that follows feels like death, but that is all well and good. The punch line’s on its way. “And I suppose you would like to lead this campaign against Mars?” Atalantia asks. “Self-interest be damned indeed.”
“No.”
“No interest in that glory at all?”
“No. Though my heart yearns to prove itself, I am not yet experienced enough to lead such an army as Mars will require. There is only one man amongst us fit for the task. One man who can make Mars tremble with fear and wake the hearts of our fighting men and women. That is why I nominate the greatest field commander of our time.” They frown, not sure who could possibly fit that bill. I lift my fingers in the horns of the Minotaur.