by David Winnie
“We can expect compliance, then?”
“Not entirely, Master. I believe that they instituted some controls in her she wasn’t aware of. She will still occasionally have outbursts, but the lessons she learned from the station personnel and the social interaction she was forced into will serve her well. I predict that we shall see some defiance, but by Naming Day, she will be ready.”
“What of the romantic programing? Has she imprinted with the partner as we had need?”
“Without a doubt, Master. The doctor is an outstanding choice. Transferring him nearby, but not too nearby, was an equally brilliant stroke. I predict the romance will flourish and we can expect she will choose him as her partner.”
“It was not so much brilliant as it was necessary. The doctor is what the Empire needs to bring back into the Imperial line. You are to encourage this relationship carefully and quietly at every opportunity. I expect the marriage to be in no more than ten years. Sooner than later would be preferred. We shall have the files ready before then.”
“It shall be as you command, Master.”
“See to it that it is. We shall see you in seventy-two hours when you arrive at Terra.
Chapter 6
Three years later.
Terra! Ancient and traditional home for the Terran Empire. The wellspring from which all Terrans sprang. The blue sapphire floating in space, the jewel that pulls at the heart of every man and woman born.
At the very heart of Terra is the Giza Palace. When the Third Khan, Hinabrian, was touring the war-ravaged cities of Terra following the third Galactic Council War, he awoke one morning to see the sun rising from the cliffs of Giza. He gazed in wonder as the sun backlit the tombs of the ancient God-Kings of Egypt. He decided he would build the new capital for his young Empire in the place of these ancients.
The construction of Giza Palace would outlast the 80 years he was on the throne and two hundred years beyond. It became a magnificent edifice, blending natural stone with traditional construction and modern flair. The campus extended from the desert floor to dozens of stories, high over the rim of the plateau. It arced in each direction, from the air a sweeping crescent. The ends of the palace tapered to a single building block, as though wide, circling arms embraced all who walked to the plaza.
The plaza itself was a seamless white expanse, measuring a square mile. During Great Events of the Empire, millions of beings would crowd the plaza and bear witness to events regarding the Royal Family and the Empire. They rejoiced in the encircling arms of the piazza, the center of the citadel holding a broad balcony where the Khans would appear to their worshipping subjects. On either side of the balcony rose a pair of towers, the Tower of the Dawn to the east, the Tower of the Evening to the West.
And the palace itself! Thousands of offices, warehouses and barracks. Vast apartments and suites. Parklands and gardens, all set to open air and fed from the River Nile through a clever series of aqueduct, sluices and ejectors. There was no need for pumps in the palace, nor expensive cooling systems. Emperor Hinabrian Khan had planned well. Great turbines supplied power, the very force of the river created all manners of plumbing and cooling.
Today was a rebirth for the Empire. For the eight, the course of their lives would be set. In the culture of their ancestral tribe, the Khalkha, they would announce their chosen adult names, becoming adults in the eyes of their people.
For seven, there would be a disappointment. Their quest would end. They would be greatly respected, both in personal and professional circles, living for the rest of their lives as ne-Khan. Of the Khan’s family, but not the Khan.
And the eighth. The eighth who was first. He or she would be named the Crown Heir. The Crown Heir would still need to continue to grow, being instructed on the responsibilities and the task of being Khan of the Terran Empire. No detail would be too small, no plan without their permission. Theirs would be the direction over trillions of Terrans spread throughout the Empire and beyond, as well as the partners, client states and the subjected. The new Crown Heir would wait seven more years, completing school and training before he or she would assume the title and name of Khan.
The eight waited in a large chamber at the center of the palace. Each was deep in personal thoughts. Orange didn’t want the job. Black knew he wouldn’t be Khan; his talents lay elsewhere in the service to the Empire. Green and Purple were unsure where they stood, each hoping for the title, even more unsure what they would do with it. Blue was completely relaxed. He knew he had done all he could; there was nothing more to be done. Whatever happened today, he was genuinely excited to be starting the next part of his life.
White was anxious for the day to be over. Today, finally, he would have his freedom. Let the others fight over the crown, after today, he would emulate the brother of the ninth Khan and disappear forever.
Red, however, was certain she was to be the next Khan. She had excelled at every test the Proctors could invent, every physical challenge.
There was no one, living or dead, who was ever more prepared to rule the Empire. She was the only one qualified to be Khan; anyone else was already less than she.
Without her, the Empire would be diminished.
She simply had to win.
A fanfare sounded. The family elders, other notable members of the Royal Family and members of the court were filing into the lower level balconies of the palace. The eight could make out the cheers of the crowd through the thick stone walls.
Violet sat dangling his fingers in the room’s fountain, occasionally slapping and splashing the water. He was wearing a handsome velvet suit, with ruffles and breeches. His hose shone brightly and a stylish ribbon controlled his hair. Yellow and Green wore long, flowing robes. Red had donned a brilliant unitard, over which she wore a long, flowing dress open in front and flowing to the sides, more like a dramatic coat than dress. Her hair, as always, was tied back in a severe braid. She had thought about wearing the dress her friends had made for her two years before, but decided impression of the Empire was more important.
Another fanfare. The Regent Ming si ne-Khan and the Empress Lorraine were making their entrance. The cheering was louder. The eight knew their Uncle was reveling in the worship, believing the cheers were for him. Each knew they were superior to him.
All had devised their own method for getting rid of him.
Dohlman appeared. “It is time,” he announced. They lined up as they always had. Today would be the final time. They would never return to this room, together like this, again. In mindspeak, each wished the others well.
The Regent and Empress stood proudly at the center of the balcony in full view of the plaza. The eight turned to the couple and bowed, although Raudona’s subservience was a bare tip of her head. Then the siblings turned to face the waiting throng below.
The Regent spoke, his voice carried by hidden microphones. “Citizens!” he cried. “Terrans! Terrans here and throughout our Empire! Our companions! Our Allies! Our Honor Guests! I present to you today the sons and daughters of our dearly, departed Khan, my brother Robert! Today, these children are children no more. Today we celebrate the traditions of our forefathers, going back to ancient times. We celebrate the Law laid down two thousand years ago by our Great Khan himself.”
The crowd was roaring. The Regent had to wait until the deafening cheers abated.
“This morning, for the last time, my brother’s dear children awoke as youths. Now, before the tribesman in this place, all those who bear witness here and all the Terrans wherever they may be viewing today’s ceremony, I invite our new men and women to step forth and declare themselves before the Gods!” The volume of the crowd began to build again.
White stepped forward first. “Today, I am Tomas Blanco.”
Then Black voiced his name. “Noire” was all he said.
Purple spoke, “I declare myself as Victor. Victor Royal.”
Orange stepped forward, fierce and beautiful. In a strong voice she declared, “I am Anja de L
’Orange. See me and despair!”
Green bowed low in his flowing robes. “I am Jiro Hijau.”
Blue bounded. “Hello, everyone!” He was expansive, his arms flung wide. “I am Blaise. Blaise Bleu!”
Yellow stepped forward and curtsied. “I have chosen to be called Teresa Curie. I vow to serve.”
The last of the eight to step forward was Red. Confidently, she looked over the crowd, turning to Yuri’s section last. She could see his curly head and the smile he wore. She grinned back and said, “I am Annika. Annika Raudona.”
Annika. Named for Yuri’s great, great grandmother. She could see his face break into a huge grin.
The Regent began to speak. “Citizens! Our new family…” His voice trailed off and he squinted, looking north toward New Cairo.
The crowd stirred, confused. Many turned and saw the small craft racing toward the palace. As it passed over the edge of the plaza, little black objects tumbled away from it. They exploded over the crowd, shrapnel tearing through flesh. Hundreds died instantly. Before anyone could react, an identical ship roared over from the east, depositing more death. Then came one from the west.
“RUN!” someone screamed in the mindspeak.
They scattered as a ship came in from the north. It fired a rapid gun, spitting rounds across the balcony and into the crowd below. Bombs fell from it and more died in the carnage. The ships continued to loop, make their runs, raining death.
Annika found herself scrambling on her hands and knees. There was a pop and a wet smack as the body of a soldier nearly fell on her. His gun clattered to one side. She stared at the dead soldier, then grabbed his gun, stood and began firing. She was blinded with fury, firing into the sky and through the thick, acrid smoke around her. She roared aloud as she fired.
“ANNIKA!” She heard the scream in her head. The softer, “Annika! Here, turn around!” She spun around and took her finger off the trigger just in time. Noire was standing there, calm in his entreaty. “Sister, hand me the gun. Please.” She handed the gun to him blankly, oblivious to the death and destruction around them. “Come, Annika, we need to find cover from the attack.”
“NO!” she insisted. “We need to find the others.”
“Don’t…” he begged.
She looked about, trying to get her bearings, then went to her left. Unsure, she still felt it was the right direction to go. Within yards, the wind blew the smoke back and Annika could see where she had been standing only minutes before.
Carnage. A slaughter house.
Victor was face down. Or would have been, if his head wasn’t gone. Jiro and Anja were in pieces. Annika recognized the orange slipper on the lower leg and could see a pile of green robes, saturated with viscera. Blaise lay on his back, staring at the sky, blinking. He was trying to hold his stomach in, failing to notice his legs were gone.
“BLAISE!” she cried through the link. “Oh, GODS above, don’t move!” as she hurried to him. She shook as she knelt next to him, desperately trying to remember what she should do. His eyes turned and focused on her.
“Annika?” he asked, “Why? Why, dear sister?” His head fell to the side and he seemed to lose focus. Then she heard him whisper. “Avenge us.” She felt him slipping.
Then he was dead.
A raider flew over, continuing to spit death. There was a motion behind her. She spun but there was only Noire. “Annika, we have to go, it’s not safe,” he begged.
A soldier stumbled past, his arms held out in front of him. Annika suppressed a cry. He was on fire. He stumbled a few more yards and fell. She searched for her gun; she wanted to make sure he wasn’t suffering.
Screaming on her left, the Empress was holding a prone Regent, who bled from his head and abdomen. Screams and cries all around, explosions, fire. Smoke encompassed the abattoir like the deepest of fog.
Annika flinched and ducked as another of the raiders flew over, low but not firing. Moments later, a smaller, spearhead-shaped vessel painted in Imperial greens and browns screamed past, chasing the raider. Here was a succession of snaps; the fighter was firing on the raider. Good, our fighters have finally arrived.
Yuri. She had to find Yuri. She turned wildly, trying to decide which way to go. Noire grabbed her arm, begging her to come with him to safety. She stepped back, tripping over Blaise and landing in the middle of the remains of her sister and brothers. Terrified, she tried to stand, slipped and fell again. Her body was soon coated with the gore of her siblings’ bodies. This time she couldn’t hold back her scream.
A soldier appeared. He lifted her unceremoniously, flopped her over his shoulder. “Miss, are you able to walk?” he yelled above the ongoing din.
“Wha-wha…” Annika stammered. “Hey, PUT ME DOWN!” she screamed. She began to beat his back with her small fists. “I must go find Yuri.”
Her captor ignored her and began to run, screaming into the microphone at his mouth. “O.K. I’m bringing in the Red; Black is with me. No, I haven’t seen the other two.”
He entered a door and ran down the corridor, turned a corner and stopped. Other soldiers gathered round as he let Annika to the floor. She beat on his chest screaming, “I must find Yuri! Take me to Yuri!”
The soldier grabbed her wrists. “Listen, LISTEN!” he hollered. “Get yourself together. Someone just tried to cut the head off this government and right now, for better or worse, you are the one in charge. I need you to calm down and listen!”
He got through to her. Annika stopped yelling and hitting. She was shivering now, but her eyes took on a steely resolve. “Yes, you’re right,” she said in a strangely calm voice. “What is your name, soldier?”
“Campion,” he replied. “Captain Morris Campion. 2nd infantry.”
“Well, now you are Major Campion of my personal body guard,” Annika said in the calm voice. “Right now, you need to get me and my brother to the command bunker. Now, soldier!”
He spoke into his microphone briefly, then asked her, “Can you walk? I can carry you if you can’t keep up.” Annika huffed, narrowed her eyes and stormed down the corridor.
Chapter 7
They hurried down the passage, following Annika. She entered an elevator and dropped dozens of levels, then exited. Major Campion wondered how she knew where she was going. “I’m taking directions from you, Major. It’s quicker this way,” she mindspoke.
At a washroom, she paused. Her entourage took up guardian stations outside the door. Inside, a wreck looked at her from the mirror. Hair in disarray, black smudges and…blood on her face. Annika gasped and scrabbled for the faucet. She scrubbed with fury, watching the gore go down the drain. Her control slipped and she found herself escaping into hysterics again.
“Calm down, Sister,” Noire mindspoke. “Just presentable is all you need for now.” His matter-of-fact demeanor restored her control. There was nothing she could do about her clothes, and she could only smooth down the worst of her hair. Not a hair out of place… echoed in her head. Well, no time for that now.
The soldiers at the door of the Command Center stiffened as she arrived. She pushed her way past them and through the doors.
The Command Center was circular, with three tiers. Consoles lined the walls, with a busy army of soldiers scurrying from one to the other. A large holo emitter above the lower floor and stretching to the ceiling displayed Egypt and the Mediterranean Sea. Red and green arrows danced across the map.
She was soon recognized. “Holy glapsh…I mean, attention on deck!” a passing soldier yelled. Immediately, the whole room stiffened. Annika whispered to Major Campion, “Now what do I do?”
“Carry on!” he bawled. He winked at her, obsequiousness gone since her trip from the balcony over his shoulder. “Better get used to it.” A short, aging, bald officer appeared in front of her and bowed.
“Miss, I am General Han, Deputy Commander of this facility. I am pleased to see you and your brother made it here safely.”
“Thank you General. Any word on my other s
ister and brother? I know about the others. And the Regent? What is his condition?”
General Han took her by the arm and led her down the stairs toward the holo table. “Your sister Teresa has been recovered, but she refuses to leave the Plaza,” he said. “She is aiding in establishing a triage station. I have no word on your other brother. The Regent has been taken to the palace hospital. He is grievously wounded, but expected to make a full recovery.”
He pointed to the hologram. “This is a live time tactical display of what is occurring at this moment. There were twelve raiders that attacked the Plaza. Two squadrons of fighters were scheduled to be overhead during the ceremonies. Odd, the launch orders were canceled.”
Annika studied the dancing arrows. “You said you are deputy commander?” she asked. “Where is the Commander?”
Han shook his head. “General Teague was here at his post this morning. We chatted for several minutes. I haven’t seen him since.” Annika and Noire shared a sideways glance; her brother nodded his agreement.
“General, I want this General Teague arrested,” was Annika Raudona’s first official order to her army. “Put him in a cell and my brother will… interview him.” General Han nodded and quietly gave the order to a nearby aide.
“As you see, we have already downed eight of the raiders,” the General announced. “The others are heading north. I have ordered fighter command in Europe to launch more interceptors, but I intend to leave two unharmed to follow back to the mothership. These raiders are too small to be interstellar.”
Annika decided she liked this General. She gave him a quick scan and confirmed that she could trust him, also. “Have we secured the space around Terra?” she asked.
Han shook his head. “No. That requires an order from the highest level.”
Annika glowered. “As for right now, General, I am the highest level of government,” she hissed. “Shut down all the space around Terra. All shipping lanes in and out of the Sol system are to be searched. Not a ship in or out without a physical search. Any ship that refuses is to be detained.”
