Saving 1641

by Robert Jay Dilger

  Justice Brandix turned the recording device off and looked up and down the dais, hoping for a response. Several Justices nodded as their eyes met his. Others looked away.

  “Does anyone else wish to speak?” Chief Justice Kartini asked.

  Justice Kourdar leaned forward and activated the recording device in front of him. A former Intergalactic Armada Admiral, he looked the part. Clean-shaven, with short-cropped light brown hair and hazel eyes, he had a strong jaw and chin and spoke with a confidence that bordered on arrogance.

  “I rise in opposition to the motion,” he stated.

  “You are recognized for 10 minutes,” Chief Justice Kartini responded.

  “My esteemed colleague is renowned for his oratory skills,” he began. “He inspires. He enlightens. He appeals to our compassion. I would love to live in a universe based on compassion. We all would. Who wouldn’t? But we don’t. We never have. We never will. We have real problems that demand real solutions. We were elected to make tough decisions. To consider all options and choose the one that is most likely to lead to economic prosperity. We all have to earn a living. That is the basis of our society. We were elected to do the right thing. That is our job. I say that the right thing to do is to relocate these primitives to a Member planet where they can be assimilated into our culture, auction off the planet’s land for colonization and mineral extraction, and use the government’s share of the proceeds to lower taxes. Lowering taxes will lead to economic expansion. Developing that planet, all of it, will lead to economic expansion. That is what we are all about. That is why the Consortium was formed so many years ago. It is who we are. It is what we do. My colleague is correct, we are entrepreneurs. We are businessmen and businesswomen. The correct business decision is to vote no to the motion. That is what I intend to do.”

  Justice Kourdar turned the recording device off, leaned back in his chair, and crossed his arms across his chest.

  “Does anyone else wish to speak to the motion?” Chief Justice Kartini asked.

  Several moments of silence ensued.

  “Last chance,” the Chief Justice stated, raising a ceremonial gavel.

  Striking the gavel on a round, wooden sound block, the Chief Justice declared, “The Clerk shall call the roll.”

  “Justice Stevenson,” the Clerk stated.

  “Yes,” she answered.

  “Justice Kourdar,” the Clerk continued.

  “No!” he answered firmly.

  The Clerk continued to call the roll, from the least to most senior Justice, leaving the Chief Justice for last. After 14 names had been called, the vote stood at seven in favor of the motion and seven opposed. The Chief Justice hesitated. Looking over to Justice Casseday, her eyes locked with his. Placing his hand over the microphone on his desk as a precaution, Justice Casseday leaned toward her and appeared to say something. Michael was not particularly adept at reading lips, but he swore that Justice Casseday told the Chief Justice, “Don’t you dare.”

  Justice Kourdar looked down at his wrist transponder. A secure, encrypted message from Justice Casseday had arrived. As the Clerk announced the next item on the Court’s agenda, he read the message.

  “Can you meet me in my private quarters after today’s session?” the message read. “I think that it’s time for a change in the Court’s political leadership. Are you in?”

  Justice Kourdar leaned forward and looked over at Justice Casseday. Their eyes locked. Justice Kourdar nodded yes. A second later, he saw several other Justices do the same.

  Michael’s wrist transponder beeped repeatedly. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he reached over to his nightstand and picked up his transponder. An encrypted message from the Interstellar Court of Justice was waiting to be answered in his in box. His alarm clock read 5:45. He had celebrated their victory into the wee hours of the morning with Kristi and Alex and was having trouble focusing. The message, marked “Top Secret,” indicated that he had been designated the official guardian of Planet 1641 and was to report to the Interstellar Reconnaissance Service headquarters building that afternoon for further instructions. A smile crossed his lips as he hit the reply button and typed, “Message acknowledged. I will report as directed.”

  Using a secure channel, Michael texted Dee Sanders, “Please send Justice Brandix my sincere thanks for securing this appointment for me. I will not let you down. Love, Michael.”

  Michael knew that he would probably wake them both up, but he decided that this news was too big not to share immediately, so he typed in Kristi and Alex’s numbers on his wrist transponder. They both answered at the same time. Kristi was up, eating breakfast. She was still in her pajamas. Alex was in bed, but answered anyway, given who was calling.

  “I got it,” Michael announced. “As we had hoped, I have been named 1641’s guardian.”

  “When do we leave?” Alex asked.

  “I’m not sure,” he answered. “Probably in two or three weeks, if they follow standard protocol. The biggest thing will be negotiating the extraction contracts and then establishing inspection schedules to make certain that the extraction companies are complying with all government regulations. I will also have to requisition some robocameras. The government is certain to send a few to cover the implant’s birth, but I want a few more to keep a watchful eye on the extraction companies, just in case they get any ideas about sabotaging the inhabitants’ progress. After all, they have everything to lose and nothing to gain if the inhabitants meet the Court’s performance requirements.”

  Chapter 2

  THE IMPLANT

  It was early spring, his favorite time of the year; full of the promise of rebirth, renewal, and fresh starts. He loved everything about spring; the chilly mornings, the warm afternoons, the budding flowers and trees, the arrival of butterflies and songbirds, and, most important of all, the grand opening of the village marketplace. Soon, hundreds of people from throughout the Kingdom would be arriving, all eager to sell or barter their goods in the marketplace. More visitors to the marketplace meant more customers for the inn. More customers for the inn meant more money for him.

  “This is going to be a great day,” Jacob thought as he crawled out from under the warmth of his heavy wool blanket and quickly got dressed. “The weather is cooperating and the marketplace is finally open.”

  Grabbing a broom, he opened the door separating his bedroom from the inn’s dining hall and started sweeping. As he swept his way across the hall, he could not stop thinking about the young woman he had met the previous day. She had the most beautiful big brown eyes he had ever seen, and her shy, girlish smile was intoxicating.

  “Maybe she is the one,” he daydreamed.

  He was nearly done with his sweeping when the huge metal bell mounted high up in the stone castle’s main turret began to ring out continuously, its deep, brass tones echoing across the village and into the surrounding countryside. Opening the inn’s wooden front door, he watched as dozens of villagers raced past, all headed for the castle. Locking the door behind him, he joined the crowd as everyone raced down the dirt road and gathered in front of the castle’s massive iron gate. Rumors ran wild. A large, balding man with a toothless smile shouted, “It’s a girl, just you wait and see!” Another man, this one younger, with very broad shoulders and a neatly trimmed beard, answered him with, “Are you out of your mind? It’s a boy. It just has to be a boy.”

  The crowd’s bantering quickly grew to a near-deafening roar. Addison, Captain of the Royal Guard, appeared on the walkway above the gate, a large grin on his clean-shaven face. Tall and athletic, he looked and acted like someone who was born to be in command.

  “Good morning!” he shouted, waiting for the crowd to settle down. “Welcome, one and all. On behalf of his royal highness, King Tacmar, and his beloved Queen Gabrielle, I welcome you. The King and Queen have news to share. Great news! Please come in!”

  Addison signaled to three burly Royal Guardsmen who pulled hard on a thick rope attached to the gate through a series o
f pulleys. As the gate rose, Jacob was caught up in a tidal wave of villagers as they rushed through the opening and raced for the King’s balcony overlooking the courtyard. Tacmar, long past his prime, was dressed in a loose fitting, ankle-length tunic tailored to conceal his rapidly expanding belly. Leaning heavily against the stone parapet surrounding his balcony, he waited patiently as the villagers gathered beneath him. Plagued by a nasty cough that refused to go away and besieged by various aches and pains, he had grown increasingly grumpy and quick-tempered in recent months. But not today. Today, he was smiling from ear-to-ear.

  The crowd surged forward, trying to get as close to the King as possible. Jacob was lucky. He ended up right beneath the balcony.

  Tacmar raised his arms triumphantly over his head and announced, “I have a son!”

  The courtyard erupted in a spontaneous roar of approval as everyone shouted their congratulations.

  As the news of the prince’s birth spread across the Kingdom, Tacmar held a private meeting with Addison in the castle’s library. Tacmar had complete confidence in Addison, both as a military leader and as a strategist. Together, they had managed to keep the peace and, for the most part, they felt that they had earned the respect and loyalty of the Kingdom’s various factions. But they also knew that everyone could see that the King was in declining health. Many expected him to die relatively soon, and without an heir. Prince Conor’s birth was unexpected. The question was, how would the leaders of the Kingdom’s various factions react to Conor’s birth?

  “Have the couriers left yet?” Tacmar asked.

  “Yes, your majesty,” Addison answered. “As you requested, I sent an invitation to Skye, all six members of the Tolls’ elders’ council, Leena and her younger sister, Arianna, all seven members of the Tiebers’ court, Seric, and all eight Batar land barons.”

  “Good,” Tacmar stated. “Any news from our spies?”

  “No,” Addison answered. “Nothing.”

  “Skye is a good man and a good friend,” Tacmar continued. “If he thinks that the Batar are up to something then we should pay close attention. Just to be on the safe side, double the night watch and make certain that the gate is shut every night.”

  “Consider it done,” Addison answered.

  “And double the offer to our Batar informants,” Tacmar stated. “We need to know what Seric is up to.”

  Taking another long drink from his mug of ale, Tristan, the King’s younger brother, exclaimed, “Tacmar is fool! The only reason that he is the King is that he was born before me.”

  “He is a fool,” Seric agreed. “He is always favoring the Tolls. Skye can do no wrong. Whenever he asks for something, he gets it. Tacmar never takes into consideration how his decisions affect my people. Kings are not supposed to play favorites. I’m sick and tired of the Tolls always getting what they want. We would all be better off if Tacmar just dropped dead. His time has come and gone. He should have passed the torch to someone younger long ago, someone who does not play favorites, someone who is smart, someone who is still in the prime of life, someone like you.”

  “Things would be different if I were the King,” Tristan replied, reaching for another mug of ale.

  “Yes, they would,” Seric agreed. “Things would be much better if you were the King. You would be a great King. Everyone knows that. But now that Conor has been born, it would appear that you will never sit on the throne.”

  “It’s not fair!” Tristan shouted, pounding his fist on the table. “I have been waiting patiently. Everyone could see that it was just a matter of time. He grows sicker by the day. He can’t even stand up straight anymore. His time has passed. It’s my time. I deserve it. It’s just not right. Not right at all.”

  “Perhaps there is something that we can do to make things right,” Seric whispered. “If you are interested.”

  Servants raced through the castle’s corridors busily making preparations for the great, celebratory feast, now just a day away. Inside the main dining hall, four women, sleeves rolled up high on their arms, were hard at work, scrubbing its stone floor. On their hands and knees, they worked their way slowly and meticulously across the hall.

  “I hope the King appreciates all of this work,” the smallest of the four complained as she tried, without success, to remove a particularly stubborn stain from one of the stones.

  “Stop whining,” the woman next to her grumbled. “If you don’t like working here, leave. No one is forcing you to stay.”

  “Did you see all of the food in the kitchen?” another of the women asked as she tossed her scrub brush to the side and sat down to rest.

  “Yes,” the complainer stated angrily. “If we are very good and behave ourselves maybe they will give us some leftovers.”

  “There you go again,” the woman next to her stated. “What’s so bad about leftovers? You’re eating pretty steady aren’t you? There are a lot of people out there that would love to have your job. You have a solid roof over your head. You have decent food and free ale. Plus, you get to see all of the Kingdom’s most important people.”

  “Maybe you are happy being a servant to all of these high and mighties,” the complainer stated as she finished cleaning the stone in front of her. “But mark my words. One day I’m going to have my own place, and my own servants too.”

  The woman next to her nudged her as Addison entered the dining hall. The women looked down and fell silent, trying their best to blend into the background. The sound of musicians rehearsing echoed softly in the distance.

  Addison crossed the dining room and headed down a narrow corridor leading to the King’s favorite meeting place, the library. He was nearly run over by several servants as they rushed by, carrying tall stacks of linens and hand towels.

  “Pardon us,” one of the servants stated apologetically as he hurried down the corridor toward the dining hall. “Lots to do, little time to do it.”

  Finally reaching the library, he found Tacmar sitting at his desk, rummaging through a large stack of letters. His face was marked with fatigue.

  Looking up, Tacmar stated, “You have no idea what I have to go through every day. Everyone has something to gripe about.”

  Holding up a letter, he continued, “This one wants me to preside over his daughter’s wedding. As if I don’t have anything better to do with my time. He’s not even of noble birth.”

  Holding up another letter, he stated, “This one wants me to settle a boundary dispute with his neighbor.”

  Addison pulled up a chair and sat next to the King.

  “Any news from our spies?” Tacmar asked.

  “No,” Addison answered.

  “I suppose that is good news,” Tacmar replied, rubbing his right temple with the palm of his hand, trying, without much success, to relieve the tension that was building into a vicious migraine headache.

  “Are you not feeling well?” Addison asked.

  “Gabrielle is not doing well,” Tacmar answered with a deep sigh. “I don’t know what I would do without her.”

  “Is there anything that I can do?” Addison asked.

  “No,” Tacmar answered, burying his head in his hands. “Aiden says that he is doing everything that he can. He is the best physician I have ever met, but the birth was very hard on Gabrielle. She is well past the age when most women stop having babies. Conor is a blessing and a miracle, but if Gabrielle dies I don’t think that I could ever forgive him. She means everything to me. She always has and always will.”

  Drawing a deep breath, he continued, “On top of all that, there’s this trouble with Seric.”

  Tacmar stretched his fingers out on the desk and took a moment to inspect his increasingly knobbed and scarred knuckles that ached from the arthritis spreading throughout his body. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly.

  “As you requested, I doubled the night guard,” Addison stated. “If you wish, I could station a guard outside of your bedchamber and one in the nursery. Just in case.”

  “N
o,” Tacmar stated. “I would feel like a prisoner. That is no way to live.”

  The Tolls and Batar stood on opposite sides of the hallway, waiting impatiently for the feast to begin. They eyed each other suspiciously. Leena, Grand Duchess of the Tiebers, her younger sister, Arianna, and the seven members of her court stood between them. Leena did not fully understand why the Tolls and Batar always seemed to be feuding. But as long as neither of them bothered her people she really didn’t care. That was Tacmar’s problem, not hers.