Alt.History 101 (Alt.Chronicles)

by Ken Liu

  Even though it might prove her doom.

  Yet the fact that something was approaching—something smaller than the glowing sphere that filled the sky—suggested it was guided by intelligent entities. Perhaps it was simliar to a tender boat being launched out from a great galleon.

  What a frightening thought! If that were the case, she could only hope these visitors from the stars were as benign and enlightened as the British explorers who landed upon heathen islands, bringing civilization and enlightenment to the poor natives on faraway shores.

  Following that reasoning, then, if there truly were beings from beyond the stars, humans would be the ignorant savages. Kate gave a sharp shake of her head. She did not like that notion one bit.

  At last they reached several pairs of French doors leading out to the terraces behind the palace. Outside, the sunshine was overlaid with silver, making the grass and shrubbery appear metallic.

  The guards opened a set of doors, then preceded the Queen and Prince outside. Shading their eyes, they peered upward.

  “Egad,” one of the redcoats exclaimed. “It appears to be heading directly for us.”

  The remainder of the court poured out onto the terrace. The air was filled with a deep, nearly inaudible hum. The light struck Kate like a blow, and she blinked against the brilliance. One of the Queen’s ladies in waiting handed the monarch a parasol, and a few others sprouted above the throng like colorful mushrooms after a rain.

  Lacking that apparatus, Kate cupped her hands around her eyes and squinted into the sky. Good heavens! And rather literally, at that.

  The shining sphere hung over London, so bright she could not look at it for long. From the sphere, a dark ribbon descended—a plume of smoke left by a smaller orb. That object was most decidedly coming closer.

  Was it a weapon, aimed at the heart of the Empire?

  “Your Majesty,” the captain of the guard urged, “please, return inside.”

  “I will not be any safer within the walls than without,” Queen Victoria replied. “Whatever is approaching, we must meet it with fortitude.”

  Already, the orb was much closer. Kate estimated it would land in the garden in no less than two minutes. As it approached the noise grew to a loud rumble.

  The soldiers lifted their guns and trained them on the dark blot descending from the sky. Closer. Closer, until it was the size of a small outbuilding. It brushed past a few trees on the outskirts of the garden, and their branches snapped off and tumbled to the ground.

  The air shook with a deep, mechanical roar. The surface of the man-made lake nearby shivered violently. Kate clapped her hands over her ears, watching as the object slowed to nearly a hover.

  With excruciating delicacy, it landed on the manicured lawn of Buckingham Palace. The blades of grass beneath it wilted and sizzled. The orb seemed made of metal, yet no light sheened off the surface, and it had no discernible seams or rivets.

  The noise cut off, and for a moment Kate wondered if she’d gone deaf. Perspiration stuck her dress to her chest, and she plucked at the fabric. Then the shouts of approaching soldiers punctuated the air as they poured into the garden and surrounded the black hulk of the orb, raising their guns.

  “Hold your fire,” the Queen commanded, sweeping out one gloved hand.

  The soldiers shifted, but remained at the ready.

  Noiselessly, the orb split in the front to reveal an elongated oval opening. Something stirred inside. The crowd leaned forward, fearfully fascinated, like a rodent before the sway of a cobra.

  Faint movement—and then a creature floated out. It was not human, although it had two long appendages on either side that might be termed arms, and a head on top of its torso, surrounded by a clear bubble. Two flat, black eyes, turned on the crowd. Below those eyes, the creature had a slit for a nose, and a mouth full of writhing tentacles.

  Bile rose in Kate’s throat at the sight, and she swayed. A nearby lady screamed and fainted, eased to the ground by her companion. No one else bestirred themselves to help—they were all transfixed by the dreadful sight hovering before them.

  One of the soldiers yelled and discharged his musket. Kate flinched at the sound, half hoping the bullet hit its mark, the other half knowing they were all doomed.

  The creature turned its head, and the soldier slumped to the ground. It was impossible to tell if he were dead, or merely stunned.

  “Halt!” Queen Victoria cried, her voice finally taut with fear. “Do not shoot.”

  “But, your Majesty—” the captain of the guard began.

  “No. We shall wait, and greet this creature as civilized beings, not vicious animals.” The Queen took a single step forward. Her grip on her parasol seemed inordinately tight.

  The thing turned toward Queen Victoria, and Prince Albert caught her elbow.

  “Greetings,” the Queen called. “We mean you no harm.”

  “Yet,” a nearby lord muttered. “I think we’re better off shooting the damned thing.”

  His wife hushed him, and Kate could not decide if she agreed with the man or not. Part of her could not believe this was happening—that the glint of light she had first spotted two weeks ago had brought a being from the stars to land here, in the heart of London. Such things simply did not happen.

  And yet, the dark orb sat implacably on the greensward, and its occupant was even now gliding toward the terrace.

  Kate sucked back a breath and resisted the urge to bolt for the French doors and cower beneath a table. Instead she clenched her hands and watched. The creature stopped a safe distance from the Queen. Perhaps it understood the tightening of soldiers’ fingers on their guns, or recognized the acrid smell of human fear.

  A crackling sound filled the air, and then a voice. Inhuman, certainly, with odd inflections and staggered pauses, but the words it spoke were recognizable.

  “These…beings wish no harm is speaking…to ruler of Earth.”

  There was a pause, and Kate wondered if the last bit had been meant as a question. The Queen seemed to draw the same conclusion.

  “Indeed,” the Queen said. “I am Queen Victoria, ruler of the British Empire. Who are you?”

  “We are…eeixlltiey.” The final word was a garble of sound. Likely there was no match for it in the English language.

  The creature’s tentacled mouth did not move, and the voice seemed to emanate more from the orb it had arrived in than from the alien figure. Still, there was no doubt it was communicating directly with them.

  “Welcome to earth, Yxleti,” the Queen said, making a valiant attempt to pronounce the name. “Tell us, why have you come?”

  “To observe…explore…assess…”

  A bead of sweat ran down the side of Kate’s neck, and she wiped it away. She did not much like the idea of being “assessed” by inhuman creatures from the stars. But they had devised a way to communicate in English, and clearly been wise enough to come directly to the Queen of the largest empire on earth.

  The Prince leaned over and whispered something in Queen Victoria’s ear. She nodded, then turned to her captain of the guard.

  “I believe our further dealings with the Yxleti are best done more privately,” she said, in a carrying voice. “Your guards may remain, of course, and my attendants, but please disperse the onlookers.”

  The group of Royal Society astronomers protested, as did a few self-important lords. The rest of the crowd began to edge back toward the palace. No one quite turned their backs on the creature, or the strange conveyance in which it had arrived.

  Kate was torn. Part of her wished nothing more than to find her mother and flee the bizarre spectacle. She craved a hot bath, and the opportunity to forget for as long as possible the proceedings of the afternoon.

  Yet a larger part was aquiver with possibility. Their world had changed, of that there could be no question. She had been witness to what could only be the most extraordinary event in human history. She could meekly turn away and return to the path her parents and So
ciety had laid out, or she could seize the opportunity before her. This was her chance.

  Lifting her skirts, Kate strode past the astronomers, taking some small satisfaction from treading upon Viscount Huffton’s foot.

  “Your Majesty.” She made the Queen another curtsey. “I beg your leave to remain. As discoverer of the vessel that bore this star explorer hither, I will pledge my life to your service, to the Empire, and to forwarding the understanding between humans and Yxleti. Please, let me stay.”

  The Queen regarded her a long moment from her cool brown eyes, and Kate fought to keep her legs from trembling. She must be confident and bold in this moment.

  “Miss Kate Danville,” the Queen said, “are you betrothed?”

  “No, your Majesty.” Despite her mother’s best efforts. “I am wholly committed to this endeavor, if you will accept me.”

  “Your Majesty,” Lord Wrottesley approached the Queen. “If I may speak?”

  The Queen nodded, and the astronomer continued. “I happen to know that this is a young lady of great fortitude and determination. You might do well to take her.”

  Queen Victoria inclined her head. “Very good. We consent to add you to our staff—for the time being. You may remain here.”

  Kate shot a grateful look at Lord Wrottesley. She did not care if he had put in a word for her simply to spite Viscount Huffton, or if he truly believed she had the mettle to be of service. In either case, she vowed to be worthy.

  In moments only a small retinue surrounding the Queen remained, including the astronomers and her guardsmen. The Yxleti had stayed silent, impassively floating a few handspans above the ground as the humans reorganized themselves.

  Kate glanced at the flat black eyes and suppressed a shiver at the sight of its tentacle-fringed mouth. It might be a horrible-looking creature, but so far its purposes had not seemed inimical, and it was clearly possessed of an intelligence equal to their own.

  “Are you the only one of your kind who has come?” the Queen asked it.

  “More await…in vessel…this emissary.”

  The captain of the guard stirred at this news, and the Prince sent him a quelling look. It had been wise of the creatures to send a single ambassador, and Kate was further convinced the Yxleti had arrived with peaceful intentions.

  “You are welcome here at the palace,” Queen Victoria said. “What might we do to further relations between your kind and ours?”

  “Stable rule must first be…many queens.”

  Queen Victoria glanced at her husband, then back to the creature.

  “Do you mean our children?” Her voice was chilly.

  “Not…it is Victoria Regina…reign again.”

  The Queen’s brow furrowed, and Kate understood her confusion. How could the Queen reign again? She was already the monarch.

  “I think, though it is simply a guess, that they mean to replicate you in some fashion,” Prince Albert said in a low voice.

  Kate blinked at the notion. It seemed unbelievable—but who knew what the Yxleti were capable of? After all, they journeyed between the stars. Perhaps creating a new Queen Victoria was a simple matter for them.

  “Is this true?” the Queen asked the Yxleti hovering a few paces before her. “You mean to re-create my very essence? It seems most ungodly.”

  “Each queen sleeps until reign is ended…then wakes and is self… at moment of preserve. Best… for peaceful humans always.”

  Queen Victoria took a step back, her mouth twisting in distaste. “I cannot countenance such a perversion.”

  “Then… Napoleon three will select to rule…if you decline. Humans must have single ruler.”

  “Bloody hell,” the captain of the guard muttered. “The damnable creature’s blackmailing you, your Majesty.”

  “Of course it is.” The Queen’s eyes narrowed. “But what choice do we have? We cannot let the French rise to ascendency.”

  “I have little doubt Bonaparte’s nephew will leap at the chance,” Prince Albert said. “Much as it might go against the laws of nature, my dear, you must accept the Yxleti’s offer, or the world will end up under the thumb of a petty dictator rather than your beneficent and enlightened reign.”

  The Queen drew in a breath through her nose, and Kate leaned forward, her chest tight. Of course her Majesty would do what was best for the Empire, but what a difficult choice.

  “Very well,” Queen Victoria said. “We will do this thing—under three conditions.”

  “Tell,” the Yxleti said.

  “The first, that we be allowed to continue to reign as we see fit, without Yxleti intervention.”

  “Is already plan,” the crackling voice said.

  Kate regarded the creature. Of course it would make promises, but who knew if it would actually keep them?

  “The second,” the Queen said, “is that our beloved husband also be subject to this process, so that we might have him at our side during every reign.” She threaded her arm through Prince Albert’s and gave him a look filled with emotion. “Will you consent to this, my dear?”

  He covered her hand with his own. “I do. My place is at your side, your Majesty. Year after year, to time immemorial.”

  The Yxleti remained motionless, but the still air was interrupted by a brief hum. After a moment, the creature turned its head toward the orb.

  The crackling voice rang out. “Agreed…what is third ask.”

  “That you share with us the means by which you travel and explore the celestial sea. We, too, harbor the desire to set out in search of worlds unknown, and to bring the Empire to every corner of the stars. Will you aid us in doing so?”

  This time there was no hesitation.

  “Is intent,” the Yxleti said. “In starset we come…procure duplicates of Queen.”

  It turned and glided back to its vessel, clearly signaling that the meeting was at an end. The Queen did not call after it, though her face was still filled with questions. As soon as the Yxleti entered, the oval doorway sealed shut. The now-familiar humming suffused the air, and slowly the dark orb rose.

  The nearby guardsmen scrambled back, and with a whoosh of air and a steady hum, the Yxleti ascended. The orb hurtled away nearly as quickly as it had come. Kate followed its flight until it was swallowed by the searing brightness of the larger sphere.

  Blinking away tears, she dropped her gaze.

  “Oh my,” Queen Victoria said under her breath. “Whatever have we done?”

  “Either saved all of humanity, or doomed it.” Prince Albert slid his arm about the Queen’s shoulders. “I prefer to think the former. Steady on, my dear.”

  The Queen nodded, then turned to the dozen people gathered on the terrace. Kate glanced about, to see that everyone wore half-stunned looks that no doubt mirrored her own. She still could not quite credit what she had just witnessed.

  “Everyone,” Queen Victoria said, “attend me inside. We must draw up our accounts of this momentous event. On this day, the course of the word has turned.”

  She swept regally toward the French doors leading into the palace. The captain of the guard followed close behind, and then the astronomers and Queen’s attendants.

  Kate hung back a moment, casting a final look over her shoulder at the sphere that had once been nothing but a bright speck in the sky, and now was the harbinger of an unimaginable future. It cast its silvery reflection over London, offering no answers—only strangeness beyond compare.

  * * *

  The London Universal Times, August 1907

  Obituary Notice: On 10 August, Lady Kate Danville, member of the Royal Society and bestowed the title of Baroness of Canticus by Victoria I, passed quietly in her sleep. She is survived by her younger brother, nieces and nephews. A long-time advisor of the prior Queen, Lady Danville was one of the few still alive in this century who witnessed the glorious arrival of the Yxleti, and was part of the council which helped usher in the new age of space exploration and global prosperity. Queen Victoria II has commiss
ioned a statue of Lady Danville to be placed in the First Greeting sculpture garden on the landing site at Buckingham Palace.

  Per Lady Danville’s request, her ashes will be scattered between the stars, to float forever at peace beneath the eternal suns of the British Empire.

  A Word from Anthea Sharp

  The past is just as imagined as the future. Even with source documents, archives, and artifacts, we are still making up stories about what really happened, how it felt to the people alive at that time, and what their motivations were. “Facts” can be undocumented, slanted versions of events, or outright fabrication.

  Authors love to speculate and tell crazy lies—it’s in our DNA. The idea of playing with an alternate history led me to my favorite time period, and the what if’s took over from there.

  In addition to my Feyland novels, where futuristic high-tech gaming meets the Realm of Faerie, I write historical fiction set in the Victorian era, and have spent way too many hours diving down the rabbit holes of interesting research instead of writing. The character of Queen Victoria and the particular mindset of the ruling classes at that time—complete arrogance coupled with the desire to explore and map every aspect of the world—make it a fascinating period.

  The Steampunk genre explores and expands upon that Victorian sensibility, reimagining the emerging technology of the era. Steam power and clockwork, alchemy and fantastical contraptions are the hallmarks of steampunk. Sometimes paranormal elements are added—dangerous creatures and magical powers.

  But no aliens.

  If extraterrestrials had approached the earth in 1850, the logical choice for a ruler to contact would be Queen Victoria, head of an empire that spanned the globe—thus the saying, “The sun never sets on the British Empire.”

  What happens after that, well, only the future alt-historians can say.

  If you enjoy the mashup of genres in The Sun Never Sets, you can find links to more Space Regency stories, as well as my USA Today bestselling Feyland series, at my website, www.antheasharp.com