“I’m happy to be home father. Can’t we leave it at that?” Quinton asked.
Hek’Dara rested his arms at his sides. He nodded his head, sighed and said, “Quinton I’ve had your suite cleaned and prepared for you. I think you should get some rest and after we will have some dinner. Da’Mira, I think you should set aside some time to learn from your brother about the ship you will be commanding.”
Da’Mira nodded her reply uncertain of what to say. Could she and Quinton been such a disappointment to Hek’Dara? As she watched her father disappear up the walkway she wasn’t sure if the ping she felt in her chest was anger for her father or anger for herself. She’d never fought with the choices she’d made in her life before. Why did she question them now?
The bright glow of the Earth shone behind her. Da’Mira looked ahead toward Requiem waiting out in space. Caught between the duties to her family and her own personal convictions Da’Mira felt flooded with emotions, not knowing which was right and which was wrong.
Tannador House, High Earth Orbit
The formal ballroom April 17, 2442
Da’Mira rode in a crystal glass elevator toward the upper tier of Tannador House. In a haze, she leaned against the back wall of the lift. She slept little the night before, and everything that had happen as of late began to plague her thoughts. The failure at the breeding facility played over and over in her mind and with every scenario the outcome always ended the same.
On top of her fiasco, she was unable to let go of what My Own said to her. ‘Are you the champion of what is right for everyone, or what is right for you and the rest of the high-born?’
Da’Mira struggled to answer that question. Had she become so absorbed in defying her father she’d forgotten the real reason she wanted to change things? Giving thought to it after being prompted by someone else, was clear sign she rebelled to harm her father’s reputation, and not aide the breeders.
Da’Mira smoothed out the purple dress, anxious. She thought of all the trouble she caused her father over the years, one scheme after another. From sneaking breeders out of their internment camps – setting them free, to establishing secret hospitals on the Earth to treat the sick and diseased; all under her father’s nose. She’d been proud of her accomplishments, at least she told herself that, so she might sleep at night.
Da’Mira never considered herself a shallow person. It took My Own the courage to speak her mind for Da’Mira to understand she was feeding her ego, instead of helping people she claimed to care about. Now on the verge of being discarded by her father and sent out into deep space, Da’Mira regretted her choices. If she could stay on Earth and rethink her plan of action to bring about the change needed for everyone, from high-born to breeder, she might actually make a difference. There needed to be a compromise; some way to free the slaves but retain her way of life. My way of life? She couldn’t think beyond her own needs.
Then what of the Earth? If the slaves had the chance to be free, where would they go? Most of the planet was uninhabitable. In orbit, room was a premium. There was little of it and no space for the large number of breeders on Earth. Could they even fit in to our society? She wondered. For many years she’d heard her father say it was for the best. They took care of the slaves like pets, or as they were commonly referred to: livestock. Da’Mira felt trapped, and she tried to clear her mind.
Through the elevator’s thick glass walls Da’Mira watched as the lift rose higher and higher toward the formal ballroom. She saw the complete Tannador House complex spread out before her, the main residence in the distance – near the cathedral – surrounded by the secondary homes for extended members of the family who also lived aboard the platform. So many aunts, uncles and cousins along with their families lived with them, and Da’Mira didn’t know them all by name. She never associated with them unless it was at a function such as her brother’s arrival ceremony. Despite not knowing them all by name, they were still family, and they trusted her father to see to their needs.
The lift came to a smooth stop. The doors hissed open and Hek’Dara stood there waiting. Da’Mira’s defenses went up, as she prepared to be belittled by him. She stepped out of the elevator; a short tail of her dress followed. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Hek’Dara extended his right elbow. Da’Mira looked at it for a moment and almost refused to take it, but when she saw the prying eyes of the guests looking toward them, she clasped her forearm into the crook of his arm.
Da’Mira gave a fake smile while she and Hek’Dara walked past the guests through the posh ballroom, decorated with colorful flora of pink, red and yellows. Soft, intimate lighting filled the room – except for the long buffet table flooded with light that enhanced the harvested food provided by her family.
Tannador banners hung throughout the hall, a way of reminding guests where they were.
Da’Mira had been in the ballroom three times before. As a baby on her naming day, at ten years old during her brother’s naming day and at Quinton’s induction day when Hek’Dara named him master of Requiem.
A woman in a pink dress reached out and said in a formal tone, “Hello, Da’Mira,”
Da’Mira nodded, though she didn’t remember the woman’s name, her face seemed familiar.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday,” Hek’Dara said as they continued to walk. “I wish to tell you something.”
Da’Mira’s eyes thinned. “What would that be?”
“That you will be the best master of an exploration ship you can be.”
At first Da’Mira thought her father mocked her. That he knew she would fail. Then she looked in his face and Da’Mira found sincerity. “Thank you, father.”
“I mean it Da’Mira. I believe you can achieve some greatness as master of Requiem. I doubt you’ll find the triumphs your brother attained, but I think you can do something with your life other than ruin the Tannador reputation.”
And there it was – Da’Mira knew her father couldn’t resist setting her and Quinton against one another as rivals. Hek’Dara did his best to keep them as competitors when they were children, to condition them for when he died. He would tell them: “Both of you must be ready to take control of the family at a moment’s notice. The other members of the Union will look for weakness and their chance to seize our assets.” Da’Mira saw it as a way to drive a wedge between her and Quinton.
Da’Mira withdrew her arm from Hek’Dara ready to storm away, but she noticed they stood in the center of the large ballroom. A crowd of people encircled them. An announcer called for attention and Da’Mira stood steaming.
“Take attendance!” the announcer shouted, his voice aided by a small square enhancement clip adhered to his neck near his voice box. “The Lord Hek’Dara Tannador and his daughter the Lady Da’Mira Tannador!”
The crowd in attendance applauded, some cheered. Hek’Dara shook hands, exchanged words with a few of the people. Da’Mira smiled and waved. The pageantry bored her, but she took notice of the people in the crowd, to see how many might stab her in the back.
There were representatives from all the Great Houses. The Orlanders, two tall thinning men with large foreheads and bushy eyebrows which furrowed when they looked in her direction, they made Da’Mira nervous. She wondered if they knew of her insurrection at their breeding camp.
Da’Mira turned away and glimpsed the recluse, Warner Cromwell. She’d met the man once before, at her mother’s funeral. He rarely appeared in public, it surprised Da’Mira to see him at a party for her. A stanch well-respected member of the high-born, it was his family that first built the stations allowing the high-born to move off world. Today the Cromwell’s made their fortune on two fronts. They sought riches and technology on alien worlds with their own explorer ship while maintaining and building better vessels for the high-born. An ally of her father’s over the years, Hek’Dara always said he couldn’t trust the man because he was in too tight with House Everhart.
Overwhelmed, Da’M
ira moved her way through the crowd. She spotted a servant holding a tray of drinks and stopped to grab a glass. She swallowed the beverage in one gulp and returned the empty glass to the tray. The servant gave her a bitter-looking gaze. His hardened eyes glared at her.
“Are you all right?” Da’Mira asked.
The slave’s nostrils flared. He turned away.
Moments later the announcer at the ballroom entrance called again, “Take attendance! The Lords Gregaor and Van Xavier!”
The people swarmed to Gregaor. Da’Mira stood on her tiptoes over the gathering. Her brow knitted when Gregaor kissed the hand of Carmela Anders, whose husband died of heart failure four weeks before.
Da’Mira looked at the woman’s large breasts and curved figure. Her narrow cheekbones and big beautiful brown Cyprus eyes seemed to sparkle as she talked to Gregaor. No wonder her husband died while making love to her. Da’Mira thought and looked down at her inadequate breasts hidden by her gown. Gregaor and Carmela stood close to one another and exchanged whispers. They laughed and Da’Mira fumed. Even if Carmela was an older woman – she was still a woman.
Da’Mira and Gregaor were never a couple although many expected them to be. She found him attractive even if he represented everything she stood against. They’d both found a few opportunities to fulfill fantasies. Something Da’Mira kept to herself. It wasn’t love making, but more of a primal lust. For a moment she wondered if Gregaor and Carmela gave way to the same passions. Da’Mira shuttered to think of them together. And cleared her mind of such jealous ideas, they never suited her.
The Tannadors and Xaviers, the farthest thing from friends, though they called themselves acquaintances, that stretched the truth. Besides those few times of giving herself to Gregaor in sexual passion, a relationship never crossed her mind. That’s a lie, she bit her lip. The thought of being his lover, wife, friend, crossed her mind all the time. If Hek’Dara knew that she and Gregaor were part time lovers, he would be outraged.
The race into space to find more and more acquisitions to strengthen a family, turned to bitter feuds. Da’Mira lost count of the times the Xaviers stole planets out from under them, wrapping up landing rights in red tape for years. Da’Mira knew anything more than just sex between her and Gregaor would never be possible. However, her heart fluttered when she thought about his touch, his kiss and his hands exploring her body.
Thoughts consumed her. When the crowd thinned, Da’Mira realized she, Gregaor and his brother stood alone in the middle of the large floor. The hovering telecom cameras spun around and watched their every move. She gave the brothers an awkward smile and looked at the floating camera from the corner of her eye. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have your life beamed all over orbit, documenting everything on a personal channel.
“Sorry about that,” Gregaor said. He took a controller out of his pocket and pressed a button. The cameras spun away. “They’ll get some distant shots for a while, so we might be alone,” he said.
Da’Mira’s face warmed. She scolded herself for being such a – girl.
Gregaor and his brother dressed the same, with tight fitting black and gold suits that collared at the neck. Gregaor looked handsome. He wore a knees length jacket that gave him an educated appearance. While Van’s body wasn’t like his brother, the short round man carried himself with pride while he stood next to Gregaor.
Da’Mira smiled at Van.
“You look lovely,” Gregaor said. “The new skin color agrees with you.”
“Thank you,” she replied and gave him a thin smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever met your brother.”
Gregaor stepped aside and took Van by surprise. The short, dumbfounded man lowered his face but rolled up his eyes to look at Da’Mira. A smile formed up on the right side of his mouth.
“Van, can you say hello to Da’Mira Tannador?”
“Hello.” Van said and whispered, “Give it to her.” He pulled at Gregaor’s arm.
“Hush,” Gregaor told Van waving him back.
Da’Mira raised an eyebrow but did not inquire. She noticed the odd stares she and Gregaor received from the guests throughout the ballroom. She took his arm into hers. Da’Mira figured that if people were going to gossip, they needed something to gossip about. “Will you two handsome men join me for a drink?” she asked and clasped her other arm inside Van’s.
Sheepish, Van laughed and looked away.
Da’Mira noticed the onlookers whisper, and she reveled in it.
“What are you up to?” Gregaor asked with a smile.
“You and I have a chance here to start a rumor that will last for years. Are you up to it?” Da’Mira asked with a wicked grin.
“I’ve never been one not to stir up controversy,” Gregaor said.
“Me too,” Van said with an innocent smile.
“Yes… you too, Van. How the tongues will wag as I walk away with two of the Earth’s most eligible bachelors,” Da’Mira said navigating them along. From across the room, she saw her father gawking at her with an angry stare. Da’Mira ignored him. “Now, tell me Van, what should your brother give me?”
Van looked at Gregaor like he did something wrong, but Da’Mira tightened her arm and his saddened eyes brightened.
The trio arrived at a secluded area away from the other guests and sat in a booth. An artificial candle burned in the center of the table and released a honeysuckle fragrance that Da’Mira waved away from her.
A slave dressed in all white approached the table, “How might I serve you?” the Hispanic servant asked.
“Wine,” Gregaor snapped not looking at the slave.
“Yes, slave,” Van said in a sharp tone trying to impress his brother. “Bring me mint refreshment – something to get the odor of your kind out of my throat.”
Da’Mira gave the boy a harsh stare and said looking at the slave right in the eyes, “Nothing for me, thank you.”
The slave nodded and withdrew from the table.
“Van, how could you be so rude?” Da’Mira asked.
“He’s a slave,” Gregaor said dismissive.
Van nodded and chuckled in agreement and said, “Just a slave.”
Da’Mira held together her composure and understood Gregaor grew up exposed to such antediluvian ideas, while Van acted in such a way to impress his brother. She needed to remind herself that few held the same principles as she did. She looked forward to leaving on Requiem if only to get away from people and their draconian ideas about slavery. Da’Mira remembered what her teacher Kab’ic Gear always told her, “Man might be the marvel of the universe, but by no means is he infallible.”
“Sometimes Da’Mira I wonder why I don’t listen to my parents about you,” Gregaor spat and turned a shoulder to her.
“Then why don’t you?” Da’Mira snapped.
Van hunkered down in his seat. His eyes lowered to the table.
Gregaor snapped back, “Because I…” he calmed his voice. “I like you, Da’Mira.”
Van sat back up, smiled and nodded. He tapped his hands on the table and said, “Now?”
Gregaor looked at his brother with a raised eyebrow and with a level tone said, “You have a one-track mind, don’t you?”
“Yes –” Van said and looked at Da’Mira with a twinkle in his eyes.
Da’Mira gave both Gregaor and Van a questioning stare.
“It seems I have no other choice. I guess I’ll give it to her,” Gregaor said and reached into his coat.
“Oh boy… oh boy…” Van said enthusiastic.
From his coat Gregaor took out a small red box and held it in his hand. He gave Da’Mira a thin smile. “I found this on the last world I visited and… well I thought you might like it – and wear it for me?” he said and handed it to her.
Da’Mira hesitated for a moment and took the box from Gregaor’s hand. She looked at it and wondered if it wise to except a gift from Gregaor Xavier. What price tag came along with such a gift like this? The moment she opened it, she
could be indebted to him.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” Gregaor asked, giving Da’Mira a curious eye.
Da’Mira drew up her eyes from the box and smiled. In a pleasant tone, she said, “Yes… I’m sorry.” She lifted the hinged lid and looked down at what laid inside. “Oh Gregaor… I’ve never seen anything like this.”
Van laughed and clapped his hands.
Da’Mira took the Z shaped necklace out of the box and held it up. The artificial candlelight sparkled on the silver amulet. “Exquisite and such craftsmanship… it might’ve been a queen’s,” she said.
“It might have been. My archeologists could not determine any significance. I bet it will look lovely around your neck.”
Again, Gregaor reduced Da’Mira into acting like just another – girl. She felt giddy, her heart beat fast. She handed the amulet to Gregaor and turned her back to him, pulling up her hair so he could place the necklace around her. Da’Mira felt the coolness of the metal against her neck. She reached up and graced it with the tips of her fingers, said, “It’s so light. I can’t tell that I’m wearing it.” She turned to show Gregaor and Van the charm against her green tinted skin and offered them a pleasing, thankful smile. She took it in her hand and fondled it.
“You like it?” Van asked.
“Yes – it’s wonderful.”
Gregaor reached up and touched Da’Mira’s cheek and said in a soft voice, “I know it will bring you luck when you travel on Requiem.”
“Yes,” Da’Mira said. “I’m sure it will.”
The Explorer Ship Requiem – 139,000 Miles from Earth
Origin Expedition Page 11
