Many days later and by the time they had closed to within two light seconds distance from the Jump Station at the edge of Capitals system, a slightly stiff Karen had begun to truly appreciate what Vimes had been gifting her, for she was now able to perform exercises and somehow complete intricate patterns of movement without conscious thought. She’d had one spectacular failure, however, resulting in her requiring minor medical attention to a badly broken nose. Frustratingly, her body had felt it knew how to perform a back-flip, in fact, she almost remembered doing them dozens of times. Unfortunately for her nose, on attempting one, she had landed flat on her face, smashing her nose into the firm practice floor and leaving a trail of blood as Vimes directed her to the ship’s infirmary for treatment, her eye’s streaming tears. Once there, a friendly Doctor, or at least she assumed it was a Doctor, tended to her injury, then showed her around the infirmary, explaining what the various bits of equipment did and how they operated.
For Karen, the injury had been enough for her to call a halt on any further exercises that day and on the way back to her room asked Vimes what had gone wrong.
“Although you have the memories and the knowledge of how you can do these things, you haven’t yet provided your body with the strength or suppleness to actually perform those tasks. Think of it as an old woman remembering what it was like to run quickly as she did as a child, yet now falling over or stumbling because she is no longer physically capable of doing it. There is no short cut, hence the time I’ve been scheduling you in the gym and training. You are almost there, just another day, but you will need to practice regularly to maintain the pathways.”
By the time they reached her room, Karen had stopped grumbling and was thinking about the upcoming meeting with Duke Gallagher later that day and getting ready for the Jump to Felidae space. Soon, the royal yacht would move within the Jump Station’s protective umbrella, then wait for the Duke’s appearance. She had just over an hour to get ready, so set about making herself presentable, hoping the stewardess would put out the correct clothes for her to wear.
She needn’t have worried, for on coming out of the bathroom, suitable court clothes had been neatly arranged on her bed, consisting of sensible trousers with matching jacket and a white silk shirt, delicately embroidered with an intricate design that seemed to change every time she looked at it. The outfit was finished off with a dark blue cloak, fastened at the neck, on which the orange and black insignia of the Imperial family was clearly visible on the back, although she thought it looked like more of a target than a motif. She waved away a discrete question from the stewardess if she needed any assistance, not wishing to even consider having someone dress her as if she was an old lady in a care home. Admittedly, her first attempts to dress herself after arriving on Capital with Adam hadn’t gone too well, as trying to work out the self-sealing clothing had been a strange and somewhat creepy experience, but after a few tries it hadn’t taken her long to master the technique, although watching the silk fabric join itself seamlessly together without buttons, velcro or zips still seemed strange.
Not wishing to arrive too early and have to sit around or make small talk with nosey strangers, uncomfortably all too aware of her current nebulous status in the Court hierarchy, she decided to stay a little longer in her quarters, asking Vimes to clear the walls again and relay a view of the outside. As he did so, the full majesty of the Jump Station was revealed and she watched, fascinated, at the view in front of her.
The Station consisted of a massive ball-like structure, festooned with light and colour, ringed by a wide band of docking stations and repair docks, a ribbon hundreds of miles long and capable of docking thousands of huge ships at one time. She stared for several minutes, trying to figure out what it reminded her of, before realising it was a weird amalgam of the Death Star and the planet Saturn with its rings.
Magnifying one section of the view, she could make out individual ships, held in an intricate holding pattern before taking their turn to dock and open their holds for inspection by Customs. To the right of the Station was an empty area, which twinkled constantly, bright lights going on and off at irregular yet frequent intervals but to no discernable pattern. Looking more closely, Karen could see a continuous stream of ships moving both to and from the area.
“What you are seeing there are ships Jumping in and out of the Jump Point,” Vimes answered Karen’s unspoken question, “Thousands of them Jump in and out every day, each one carrying passengers and trade to and from distant parts of the Empire.”
“Wow, that’s certainly impressive,” she responded, using a hushed tone, “What are all those lights over there, further to the right? More freighters?”
“No, that’s the part of the Grand Fleet which will be heading to its rendezvous point with Alexander and Adam if the Felidae talks go well. I think our Empress wants to make a statement to anyone watching, hence they are not cloaked.”
Karen continued to watch, the station growing in size until it covered a large part of the view. Her attention was caught by a large oblong shape moving towards their position, so she lensed the screen to increase its magnification. The image resolved itself to show a massive spaceship, at least three times larger than the one she was on, slowing as it approached and clearly intending to dock. It’s armoured prow reminded her of the ram on an ancient Greek galley and she wondered if it was designed with the same purpose in mind. Like the other battleships she had seen, this one’s sides were covered with bumps and protrusions which marred the otherwise sleek and matt black surface.
“That’s Duke Frederick’s flagship, INS Waylander,” said Vimes, “After the Emperor’s Flagship, INS Dauntless, this was once the second most powerful ship in the entire Empire but it seems the rebels have built their own, even larger than this one. It will dock with us in a few moments and will be accompanying us to Felidae space.”
Soon, the view outside was dominated completely by INS Waylander and Karen heard through her implant that the two vessels had now docked. Despite expecting to feel a bump or some indication of the docking, she had felt nothing.
“Duke Gallagher has just come aboard and is having a meeting with the Empress. Carmen tells me he wishes to meet with you afterwards,” said Vimes to Karen.
“Whose Carmen and why would the Duke want to meet me?”
“Carmen is my opposite number who runs all of the Duke’s affairs,” Vimes replied, “you should think of her as a less intelligent version of myself, but with an artificial personality, unlike my real one. Obviously, she also lacks my charm and sparkling wit. As to why, Patrick is Adam’s Godfather and he obviously wants to give you the once over to make sure you measure up. Right, I think it’s time for you to make a move towards the hall, so just follow the guide,” said Vimes, just as the door chimed and announced a visitor.
Karen walked over to the door, which opened automatically as she approached, mumbling under her breath “measure up, my arse,” then nodded to the splendidly dressed guide, who gestured for her to follow him on the short walk to the transit tube which would take them to the hall where diplomats and functionaries were beginning to assemble in anticipation of seeing Duke Gallagher, who, after the Royal family, was the most powerful and influential noble in the Empire. The easy informality of the time she had spent with Adam and Christine was at odds with the far more formal and regimented existence here on board the yacht while on official business. Christine had been kind, spending much of her minimal free time on board ship to tutor Karen about her new life here in the Empire and explaining how she had adjusted to life when it had been her turn. From time to time, Karen thought she could sense flashes of the independent young woman Christine had obviously once been and marvelled at how she had transitioned from a working class woman in war-torn 1940’s London, to joint ruler of an Empire, unsure if she would make the change so readily herself.
“You make it all look so easy, Christine. No self-doubt, no anxieties about how you are seen or might have done the wro
ng thing. How do you do it?” she recalled asking Christine on the second night out from Capital.
The older woman had laughed at that, making the faint laughter lines at the edge of her eyes and mouth clearly visible for a moment, taking a long drink from her glass of chilled fruit juices, laced with a hint of vodka to liven it up.
“I’m wracked with the same doubts and anxieties as everyone else, Karen, just like you, except I have had more practice and hide it better. I also have Vimes to provide words of encouragement when needed.” She chuckled again. “How nervous do you think anyone is who meets me for the first time? How the courtiers, functionaries, dignitaries and businessmen all feel when they come to the Palace or are waiting in a long line for me to acknowledge their presence, all wracked with nerves, their stomachs twisting and worrying they’ll make a mistake or say something wrong?” Christine shook her head. “The real lesson, Karen, is to understand that apart from the odd sociopath or psychopath, everyone feels this way, but some hide it better than others. It’s when you stop worrying whether you have made a mistake or are doing the right thing, that you have a problem.” She had leant across the table and patted her hand reassuringly.
Exiting the tube with Karen, the guide pointed out the doorway she needed, somewhat unnecessarily as there was already a queue of people waiting to be let in and take their allotted place, their credentials being checked by two of the largest Marines she’d seen so far. Karen nodded her thanks to the guide and joined the queue of people until it was time for her to be checked and waved through into the hall, her blue cloak signifying she was part of the Empress’s personal staff.
Inside, her implant was interrogated by another official, who almost did a double-take when it confirmed her status as someone to be escorted to the front tier of seats, those normally reserved for nobility or high ranking military. Karen smiled inwardly, realising the official was trying to reconcile her name and obvious position with Court records or lists of important people and was being frustrated when his implant drew a blank. Of course, all of this happened in an instant and he was able to mask his confusion very well. He looked as though he was going to question her for more information.
“Do you want to see him lose his cool?” Vimes asked her quickly, Karen recognising the tone of voice he used when he was being mischevious or playful, then heard Vimes message the man, “Do you have a problem with my seating arrangements? Ms. McLeod is here at the personal invitation of the Empress.”
Karen almost laughed out loud as the poor man’s eyes widened at being spoken to personally by Vimes and felt a genuine pang of sympathy for him, as he almost fell over himself in leading her to the seat allocated for her use, his body language changing from haughty to obsequious in an instant.
“Vimes, that was very naughty of you, you know. Funny, but naughty. That poor man.”
“Bah,” Vimes replied, “everyone needs their bubble pricked every now and then, especially some of these officials. If it makes you feel any better I’ll arrange for him to have an extra week paid leave. How’s that?”
By way of a response, Karen thanked the man, then took her seat, but not before looking at the people seated around her. Vimes began providing names and relevant information on anyone her eyes lingered on or who he felt she should be aware of. In return, she could see many of them appraising her in the same way, occasional flashes of frustration or curiosity crossing their faces when their searches also drew a blank.
Inwardly, Karen smiled, not quite knowing whether she enjoyed being the mysterious woman and an object of interest. She was saved from questioning by those sitting next to her when everyone’s implant gave a warning of an imminent announcement. The hall’s noise level dropped immediately and all heads turned towards the stage, on which was sat two large formal chairs, one much larger and ornate than the other. After a short pause, the Imperial Fanfare began playing and everyone stood, their attention focused on the tall woman who came in from the right of the stage, followed closely by an even taller, powerfully built and older man who Karen recognised from holograms as Duke Gallagher. At either side of the stage stood various courtiers, Christine’s to the left, Gallaghers on the right, one of them carrying a heavy looking briefcase which looked strangely out of place in the current setting.
When the last echoes of the Fanfare faded away, Christine sat down on, followed by Gallagher and everyone else in the hall. Karen took a few moments to watch him, observing how gracefully he walked and moved, something she now knew to be a good indicator of someone’s age. An economy of movement combined with a fluid grace was almost invariably associated with long life and she wondered if the muscle memory training she was getting would impart a degree of this grace to her, adding it to the growing list of things she would have to ask Vimes about later.
Duke Patrick stood, the level of anticipation immediately rising in the room. He took a moment to look over the assembled group, and for an instant, Karen locked eyes with him.
“Was that a nod of recognition?” she asked herself before his eyes continued looking around the room. All of this only took a few seconds and part of her acknowledged the man’s powerful presence and ability to become the centre of attention without having to say a word.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for attending. As you will have already been briefed, we are going to pay the first State visit to the Felidae Empire in twenty years. The Felidae Empress, Freyja, has graciously agreed to our request and will be meeting Empress Christine in person, a singular honour and a reflection of the esteem she holds for our Empress.”
At this, Patrick paused and nodded towards Christine, then turned back to the audience and continued, “While they talk together, the rest of us will be meeting with our Felidae counterparts and this is what I want you all to do…”
Scene 32, Empress Freyja, Felidae Empire.
Freyja woke from her nap, all senses immediately alert. She sniffed, then satisfied all was as it should be, relaxed and began to stretch, her back arching, removing any last traces of sleep from her system. She extended her highly polished and lacquered claws to grip the flooring, enabling her to extend fully, the stretch a pleasurable and sensual act that immediately improved her mood.
She requested food to be brought and while waiting, decided to look in on how close they were to the Jump Point. At an unspoken request from her, a hologrammatic display appeared that showed the disposition of the Progression fleet of ships accompanying her vast Flagship, which served as her home for half of the year as she toured the worlds of her Empire and met with the ennobled sisters who ran them in her name. The ships were all of the new designs which had been shown to the Human Empire for the first time only a short while ago. Here, at the last Jump Point of the Felidae Empire, on the buffer zone separating them from the Humans, they had been gathered together as a show of respect to the Human Empress, Christine, a singular honour not extended to any other of the other lesser empires that bordered her space. Even after all these years, Christine and the Humans still puzzled and intrigued her, their inconsistency and contradictory behaviour a source of concern to many of the Generals and advisors that plagued her life. Despite their constant worries and requests for more and more ships to play with, even Freyja’s advisors had to admit that Christine’s honouring of the Peace Accords was almost Felidae-like, unlike the untrustworthy behaviour every other empire had displayed, albeit to their cost. At the thought of those now dead empires, her claws automatically extended, tapping on the floor until she retracted them again with an act of will.
Dismissing the display screen, she padded over to the door and headed towards her dining room, a huge area decorated to look like the open grasslands of Mau Prime, her ancestral home. Trees and outcrops of rock were strategically placed, with holograms taking over at the edges to heighten the illusion of space. Overhead, a hot sun burned in a cloudless sky, it’s blue tinge so familiar to her.
She stopped and sniffed, her sensitive nose picking up faint traces of
the food she had requested earlier. The slight breeze changed direction, taking with it the scent, so she swivelled her ears, each taking a different direction until one picked up a faint scampering at the back of the nearest rock outcrop. Freyja’s ears now triangulated the source of the sound and she padded towards it on all fours, slipping silently through chest high grass, until she picked up the scent again. Four sources, two together, the remaining pair having split up but still nearby.
Her tail began to twitch in anticipation, threatening to give away her location, so she stilled it, eyes narrowing as she detected a movement, her whole body immediately becoming a statue. Oh so slowly, Freyja glided forward, her head down low near the ground, keeping her tail firmly under control. Another movement ahead caused her to freeze again, before she continued the hunt, moving ever closer to the rocks. Now no more than twelve foot away, she froze, her hind quarters quivering with pent-up energy and excitement. Her eyes narrowed further as she concentrated completely on two small, beautifully camouflaged animals that were completely unaware of her presence.
She sprang, a silent streak of muscle and gunmetal grey fur, leaping the twelve-foot gap in an instant, her mouth closing around the head of the largest animal, her right foot-pad pinning the second one to the floor. A swift shake of her head and the creatures neck snapped, killing it instantly. Underfoot, the second animal struggled to get free, until two of her claws extended and pierced its brain pan. It twitched for a second, then went limp. Instinctively, Freyja rose up onto her hind legs and looked around, unconsciously checking for rivals, then went back onto all fours and began feeding.
As she did so, Freyja watched as the remaining pair were stunned by the overhead monitors and carried away, back to the pens where they would live as a breeding pair, improving the stock and ensuring the hunt always continued to challenge. She took her time over the meal, realising from the size of the animals that it would be several days before she needed to eat again. Eating now, just before the meeting with Christine, would take the edge off her aggressive nature, for she did not want to risk offending her guest, even by accident. Freyja wondered to herself why Humans, and particularly this one, fascinated her so much. Normally aloof from other races, finding very little in common with them, Freyja had followed the progress of Christine and her solitary mate since their first meeting when they had come to her Coronation, the only alien race that had actually been represented by its ruler. She had been honoured by that show of respect for her and remembered wanting to learn more about those strange, incomprehensible Humans.
Imperium: Revelation: Book Two in the Imperium Trilogy Page 36
