Calan - The Immortality Paradox

Chapter Four: Ashes of the Greenpalm Union, Part One

Date: 173, OA19,654

Location: Lleno de Vida, Arena, Canol System

Picos de Arena's sand-coloured mountains were boiling under the light of Tanwen. The distant horizon distorted as a haze hovered above the summits, rippling and sparkling simultaneously. The temperature differential between the mountain range and the neighbouring city was minimal. Lleno de Vida scorched in the sunlight, too; its metal structures and tarmac roadways cooperating to contain the stifling climate. The Aquarius Chapter had not considered temperature regulation as a factor in designing their capital city. The only consolation was a solar shade launched two thousand years prior in a geostationary orbit between Arena and the local sun. Solar storms had partially damaged its shielding, but it could still reflect thirty per cent of Tanwen's photon emission.

Contemporarily, the city had lost its purpose. Most of those who sought habitation in its thronging zone had abandoned it for good. Large families and habitation groups moved in unison to the nearest spaceport for the cheapest craft out of the system or the most susceptible courier. The mass exodus happened almost overnight, comparable to Humanity's Great Migration from Earth some nineteen thousand years beforehand. Most of the Chapter never had second thoughts. They simply departed before they became trapped forever in a place that had once thrived but decayed like a dilapidated carcass.

The diaspora was for a good reason. The Aquarius Chapter's entire economy was invested in the Greenpalm Union, an interplanetary trade centre for approximately ten of Humanity's systems. Shared between the civilisations, depending on their investment, the Union was designed to purchase and sell assets and intellectual property to consolidate and protect the investments. The Union was spearheaded by a team of elected officials from the systems with which the Union was affiliated. This gave the impression of a democratically functioning organisation that worked emphatically for the interest of the interplanetary Union. Mysteriously, sources from within the organisation claimed to have discovered a secret arrangement between members of the Union and an official representative from the Pankosmios charity, a corporation purportedly to aid in developing young children's education. An unidentified transaction was made in private, and the rest inevitably unfolded. The Pankosmios project was abandoned by unknown parties, and the facility in Hanner Cylch was shut down. The transaction may have been made in secret, but the economic hole it left in the Greenpalm Union was very conspicuous. The damage was unprecedented.

Foreign minister Carlos di Gunga peered mournfully out at the desolate landscape from the forty-second story of the Whitewall Penal Institution. He appeared just as dishevelled as the city. His waxy, mahogany hair was lopsided, the fringe partly obscuring shadowed eyes and a grizzled face. A sporadic bloom of facial hair had appeared across his cheeks, chin and above his neck. The dark wisps matched his clothing: a black and grey suit, crinkled and untempered. In Carlos' threadbare state, it was surprising that he was this prepared for an essential interrogation of a convicted criminal. An incessant twitch fissured his right cheek every now and then. The least of his worries.

The criminal in question was something of an enigma for Carlos. He had never heard of someone with such little remorse for actions far exceeding human disposition, at least from Carlos' perspective. When the disreputable transaction was made, the concurrent President of the Greenpalm Union, Naoki Goya, was found dead in his private solar saloon while traversing the Rainbow Nebula. His body was found decapitated, intestines extracted and filled to the brim of his corrugated nape with imitation credits. Carlos shuddered to think about what warranted such savagery. Despite visual evidence, the minister still questioned its reality. What monster had the capacity for so much violence?

'Minister.' Carlos hadn't noticed Sergeant Avani Evans disembark the elevator. Perhaps it was her entire black outfit or the composure with which she walked. He attempted to restructure his expression into something less sombre and anxious. He found it a difficult task. 'Are you sure you can interrogate the prisoner, sir?'