Loria

by Gunnar Hedman

  “To hell with them,” he muttered, with burning eyes. “It won’t be so easy to defeat us, and if the worst happens, we can always flee to Urduk.”

  “Silly! There’s only a tiny colony there, which I’ve heard only has room for a very small number of us.”

  “It’ll work out,” he said, without really believing it himself, and with a lump growing in his throat with every swallow.

  After a few more moments of chatting they eventually drifted into a troubled sleep, and in the morning exchanged a tender farewell before he left for the airbase.

  CHAPTER 3

  As the days in Oboe passed by, in waiting for what was coming, the Olegians advanced mercilessly forward towards the ever more retreating armies. Slave Allur, who was not far from the fighting, didn’t know at first where he would escape to, but then decided, after a moment’s hesitation, to walk to the northeast, since the front was to the south, and his master’s people had fled to the north. His landowner, whose fortune came from the major rose plantations in the Azur region some three hundred kilometres from Oboe, was one of those who had had to hurriedly leave when the rumbling of the cannons approached. His good fortune was primarily due to the superior soil and a favourable climate, but also to the endless hard labour of countless slaves, out in the sun-drenched fields. The Sidians called themselves a developed people, but there was still an ancient tradition in Azur that meant that, in connection with armed conflict, one took prisoners of war and then fitted them with electronic collars that made all attempts at escape useless. The landowner’s son, who had studied humanities at the university in Oboe, and developed a great sense of justice, made sure, however, that Allur, whom he had eventually developed a great appreciation for, was released before they fled to Oboe and allowed to escape.

  Despite the imminent danger, Allur relished his newfound freedom and the absence of the collar he’d despised and been forced to wear for such a long time. So many days of hard labour under a burning sun had deeply tanned his skin and made his hands large and calloused. His features were pleasing, his hair a thin blond, his nose lightly arched and his eyes grey and good-natured, all of which was borne with an aristocratic and self-assured manner, which his long captivity had been unable to break. After walking for quite a long time across the fields of roses in the unremitting afternoon sun, he ended up on a narrow dusty path that wound its way through a valley; eventually, once he’d quenched his thirst at a bubbling brook, he was hungry. When a farm eventually appeared, he snuck carefully forward and when he arrived found that the low dwelling, with its white chimneys and weathered shutters, was empty and abandoned. It seemed that the owners must have left in a hurry and hadn’t even bothered to close the front door, which was open and swinging with the wind. He entered and in the kitchen found to his joy that some canned and other food had been left behind; after he had devoured his fill, he fell into a calm, deep sleep.

  He slept the entire night, exhausted after his day of flight, until the sun had managed to climb some way up into sky. When he went out to have a look around, he found a few speckled hens wandering around and, a few moments later, two cows browsing peacefully in a field. Different kinds of vegetables were growing in the garden, but, apart from a cute grey cat lying and soaking up the sun on the front steps, no other pets could be seen. It was thus a small farm that could have hardly been very profitable, but it certainly was enough for his needs. “Maybe I’ll stay here a few days before moving on,” he thought, rounding the corner of the house, where he suddenly bumped into a young woman in an artillery gunner’s grey uniform. They were both equally surprised, and it took him a few moments to collect himself.

  “My name is Kark,” she answered when he asked who she was. “I’m sorry to rush in like this, but apart from some berries and roots I haven’t had anything to eat for several days, so I didn’t think I had any other choice.”

  “Don’t worry, you are my guest for as long as you like,” he said. “Come with me and we’ll see if we can find something for you to eat.”

  Once they’d entered the kitchen and she’d attacked her food like a starving horse, he could see that she seemed to be in good shape from her military training. At first, she hadn’t seemed so pretty, but on closer inspection he discerned an attractive woman with reddish-brown shoulder-length hair, a sunny smile and charming, insightful eyes.

  “Don’t thank me,” he replied, when she praised him for his hospitality. “When I arrived here yesterday, I found the place completely abandoned by its owners, who apparently had departed in fear of ending up on the front.”

  “They did the right thing, because the Olegians aren’t far off,” she told him seriously, bringing him up to date with what had been happening lately.

  When she’d finished, he felt an instinctive confidence in her, and decided to put all his cards on the table.

  “Take my hand,” she said, when he had told her who he was. “The Azurean’s traditions have never appealed to me, and since I haven’t the slightest idea where my comrades in arms are, I propose that we stick together in the meanwhile, that is, if you don’t have anything against it.”

  “Not at all, he answered, “I was actually going to say the same thing.”

  Emperor Tsir the Eighth was a large and heavy-set man in his fifties, with a thunderous voice and the undeniable facial features that had characterized the rulers of the Tsir dynasty for more than six hundred years. With his slightly grey hair, curly moustache, and bushy eyebrows, he created an almost fierce impression, which spoke of a strong man who tolerated no resistance. But, when Chief of Staff Orril stood before him, at strict attention, and conveyed his report, he felt himself reeling, and felt his knees were so weak that he had to sit down.

  “Is it really true?” he asked, as he patted away drops of sweat from his forehead with his embroidered silk handkerchief.

  “Yes, without question,” answered Orril. “The collapse of the front has already occurred and, if I can venture some advice, you should immediately give the orders for evacuation and make plans for committing the city guard’s air fleet to battle. If they can take on the Olegians, we’ll gain a temporary advantage that will allow us the bit of respite we need before our departure for Urduk.”

  “I never thought I would ever have to experience such a day. For more than 1200 years, the imperial families have ruled Oboe, and now, humiliated, we must flee to a wretched little colony.”

  “Believe me, it’s the only possibility. In the future struggle against the Olegians, the people will need to have someone to look up to, and knowing that their emperor is in safety will provide them with the support they’ll need, until you can finally return and reclaim your rightful place.”

  “Well, then, proceed with Plan B,” he said, with a heavy sigh, as he peered dismally out the chamber’s windows, where the setting sun had begun to colour the sky a pale shade of pink.

  The imperial city lay like a closed little world in the centre of Oboe, strictly forbidden to everyone save the aristocracy, suppliers, and those who in one way or another served within its precincts. At its portals, uniformed soldiers with black bearskin hats stood guard, and eventual intruders were mercilessly detected by a variety of ingenious electronic systems that immediately alerted the numerous guards that constantly patrolled both sides of the high walls. The largest and oldest of the fourteen palaces within the imperial city was Silver Crown, where the fountains in the magnificent park cast their glittering jets high into the air. Inside one of the palace’s four towers lived twenty-one-year-old Princess Zania Tsirska. With her finely sculpted features, grey shining eyes, flowing blonde hair, honey-coloured skin, and well-formed mouth, she was a true beauty. What most affected those who met her, though, was her charm and insightfulness, almost as if she could peer into people’s souls, leaving no one unmoved. She was completely bored, and like all women in her age, wanted to do whatever and go wherever she pleased. When the news of the Oleg’s advance first became known, she felt a mix of
fear and pleasure, but as time went on, and the war brought no changes, she recovered her weariness. Just as she was about to break off a branch from a fragrant rosebush that twined its way up the wall outside her window, there was a knock at her door.

  “Come in!” she shouted, and hastily swept her velvet white robe around her, as her chambermaid immediately rushed in, completely out of breath.

  “There now, calm down. What’s going on?” she asked.

  “I’ve just heard, from the councillor, that we are going to evacuate, to that horrible little colony on Urduk,” she said, wiping away a lock of hair that had fallen across her brow.

  “So appalling,” she retorted, with poorly disguised enthusiasm. “When do we leave?”

  “Early tomorrow morning, but you don’t seem disturbed?”

  “Of course I am.”

  “There’s so much to do if we are going to be ready by then. I have to arrange moving boxes immediately, and ensure that all your clothes and things are properly packed.”

  “Get on with it, then,” she said, with a little grin that seemed to say that she was finding the whole thing increasingly amusing. When the chambermaid left, she gazed reflectively out the window. That the Olegians were approaching and that they were preparing to leave the imperial city was something that she only thought seemed exciting and refreshing, without considering for a moment what it might mean.

  Shay came from a small town called Rolvent, situated in a barren upland area in the eastern part of Sidian. His family had a long and fine history of distinguished soldiers in all sorts of positions, which made his own choice of profession obvious. When he and his fiancée had been together for three years, their relationship had suddenly ended. The main reason was his posting far away from home, which usually isn’t so beneficial for a relationship, especially when it’s not of that passionate variety that arises from heady love fuelled by racing hormones. They had been schoolmates from an early age, and from their friendship a relationship had eventually grown, out of a shared desire to find someone to settle down with, not untypical of young people everywhere. On one of his constant absences, however, while attending a charity ball, she fell completely for a stylish young lieutenant who was stationed with a missile battery outside town. When she informed Shay of her decision to break up with him, he didn’t feel any appreciable sorrow, and within only a few weeks he’d managed to repress the thought of her completely. War broke out some months later, overturning all sense of normalcy, and resulted in his conscious resolve to abstain from intense relationships, well aware of the danger that battleship crews were constantly exposed to.

  At first glance, he seemed to be the perfect captain, always ambitious, dutiful, careful, and with an often likeable and understanding manner. Among his faults was a vein of narcissism that expressed itself in a strong desire to be the constant centre of attention and the one who had complete control. The warmth and sympathy that he usually met his fellows with could quickly switch to irritation and coolness if someone opposed him. If he requested help and advice, he expected to be obeyed instantly, at the same time as he could be cross when others extended this service unsolicited. As an adult, though, he had learned to control the constant aggressiveness he’d had as a child, and in his dominant position as captain he normally refrained from more serious critical remarks, thereby revealing one of his better sides. With the way the war was going, which was anything but positive, he was soon going to have to put those to good use.

  Fifteen minutes after he and the other flight commanders had been ordered to report immediately to the armada’s battle centre, the slightly greying commander of the air force took to the podium and confirmed their worst fears when he declared that major parts of the front had fallen, and that they should leave their defence positions and take the fight to the Olegians. After a brief update about the latest sequence of events, they each received an envelope with written instructions, as well as a disc to load into their ships’ computers. When Shay had resolutely read through the text he felt a chill spread through his entire body, at the same time as beads of sweat appeared in the furrows of his brow. This was certainly something they had trained and prepared for. At the same time, however, he understood what it involved and that the war would soon be lost.

  When the briefing had ended and the chief of the air force had wished them well and disappeared as quickly as he had arrived, the officers, conversing loudly, stood up and hurriedly left the room.

  Once Shay had informed the rest of the crew, they left without delay to the airfield, which was now buzzing with feverish activity, and where both ground and air crews ran about getting their ships in order.

  “Prepare to load the reactors!” ordered Shay, when they had rolled up to the refuelling depot.

  “Understood!” shouted a hangar engineer in reply, at which uranium fuel immediately began to flow up through the transport pipes to the enormous atomic drives.

  The ship, the Olina, which was built of titanium from the Robur Mountains, in the northernmost part of the kingdom, was an imposing sight, with its 920 tons. The hull sparkled in a flat grey metallic colour, a strong contrast to the shiny red upper area, with its dark-tinted cabin windows, while aft the three powerful atomic drives stood proudly. With its phase cannons and the latest versions of hyper drive and automatic flash guns, she was optimally equipped to strongly resist the Olegians in the coming battle.

  As soon as the refuelling was completed, and the glowing green numbers on the reactor manometers showed full capacity, Shay dropped his instrument visor and informed the tower that they were ready for start, and the ground crews returned with heavy and worried steps returned to their normal tasks.

  As the Supreme Commander received the reports of the Olegian’s advance, an enormous quantity of building materials, equipment, and supplies were being shipped to Urduk. In this way, the colony’s artificial living environment was tripled and could now accommodate, in addition to the imperial families, not only the upper aristocracy, but a minimum number of researchers, technicians, servants, and soldiers. There was no room, unfortunately, for the rest of Oboe’s population, which with the influx of refugees had swollen to about twenty million. Despite all the rumours in circulation, and the panic bubbling under the surface, there was still a semblance of order, and airports and roads were still accessible. To admit that the imperial family had fled to Urduk was to risk unleashing complete chaos, which had to be avoided at all costs. Official reports therefore related only that the Sidians had won major victories, an outcome of the propaganda machine’s continuing effort to churn out its calming message that there was no threat to the city. According to Plan B, which had been prepared far in advance, the evacuation of the imperial families and governing functions to a safer place was to be explained as being the result of the proximity to Oboe of so many Olegian agents.

  Immediately after the departure of the armada, the evacuation was begun, at the same time as the city guard’s grenadiers, with their electro-shock batons, constantly needed to push back the most desperate individuals among the huge crowds of spectators whenever they came too close. Once at the airport, the big spaceships were loaded that afternoon, with great haste but in an orderly fashion, after which the imperial fleet – carrying 292 aircrews, 16,320 passengers, and 394 soldiers, could depart Oboe according to the arranged schedule.

  When the armada approached the front, Shay glanced at Esai, who sat to his right, with his headphones on, and ordered that they should climb to ten dec, bearing red. The weight in the stern was balanced as they rapidly took off on their prescribed course, so Esai adjusted his instruments and reported that the hydro-rudder had been measured. A few minutes later they sharply changed course and then braked dramatically. They had just manoeuvred their wildly listing ship into a horizontal position when they heard a massive explosion, followed by a muffled rattling sound. The warning lights began blinking uninterruptedly and the piercing wail of the alarm indicated that they had been hit, while
a blue blip on their oscillator represented an enemy ship approaching to release the final death blow.

  “Give me the coordinates and course so I can fire!” requested Caver.

  “I’d like to do that, but since the computers are down, it’s not possible, unfortunately,” answered Esai.

  “If I could just get this dammed ship to stand still I’ll show those devils!” shrieked Caver, unaware that Shay had just put his hands together for a last prayer. After shooting off a random barrage of missiles to no effect, they were hit by a well-aimed shot that hit the ship with a jolt and sent them, the cockpit full of sparks, hurtling directly toward the ground. Just when they thought that there was no more hope, they saw, to their amazement, how the automatic emergency system turned on, and that the enemy blip in the display had been replaced by a white point from one of their own ships.

  “Do you recognize where we are?” asked Caver a moment later, when they had managed an emergency landing and realized that they had survived.

  “No, the only thing I can say with any certainty is that we seem to have landed somewhere in the province of Azur,” said Shay.

  “It could have been worse, said Esai, glancing out the window to where a huge field of red and white roses stretched away to the horizon.

  “And it’s going to be, too, if the Olegians discover us here, like an injured goose just waiting to be plucked. Check all functions immediately, to control all damage, and I’ll hold the fort in the meantime.”

  While Shay waited nervously in front of all the manoeuvre screens, the others carefully and methodically went about the task of going through the ship’s systems.

  “Alright, let’s hear it,” he said, pushing his cap back, when they returned a quarter of an hour later to report.