Tales of the Spinward March Book 2: The Red Queen

by David Winnie

  Supper that night was in their guesthouse. Clara packed the couple a basket, explaining, “Last night celebrated you children coming home. Now we go back to work. It will be harvest time soon and we need to get ready for that.”

  She kissed Annika on each cheek and sent her on her way.

  Baskets of hot breakfast were at their door every morning. Every evening, Annika brought a basket of a prepared dinner to the guest house.

  She worked hard in the kitchen, reveling the experience of the plain, simple peasant work.

  She found herself asking the Proctor’s question: Child, how do you feel? She found she didn’t have to think about it. She felt wonderful. She had the familiar parts of her routine to be followed. Electrolytes first thing in the morning. Exercise with her bodyguards before breakfast.

  Her days filled by chores. Visiting with the other women. Clara took her out in a hovercar and she watched the massive harvesters collect the algae. “It will go from here to the processors,” Clara explained. “From there, various food companies will purchase the proteins to be used to make foodstuffs.”

  Sundays, Annika and Yuri saved for themselves. They would rouse late and spend the day enjoying the others company. One afternoon as they lay in the grass watching the clouds, Yuri cleared his throat. “Annika, I have a question to ask you of the upmost importance,” he said.

  “Oh, what could be so important a question on such a day as this?”

  He rolled on his stomach. “I’ve been thinking. The village doctor has recently retired. There is a small office available and the community needs a doctor. We could let the villa and New Moscow go and settle here on the farm. What do you think?”

  What do I think? Oh, Yuri!

  “I think it should take some careful consideration. You’re giving up a lot at the University,” she said tactfully.

  “Yes. But I am needed here. And you seem so happy.”

  “I am happy,” she sighed.

  “So, we’ll stay.”

  “Yes, until spring. I have to go to the Temple of Angkor Khan in the spring.”

  An icy wind swept across the prairie, foreboding the imminent arrival of winter. Frost coated the windows of their cottage and tendrils of arctic air crept through gaps of the snug cabin. Annika had snuggled as close as she could to Yuri, trying to leach warmth from him. She tried climbing on top of him, but that didn’t work. She gripped the blanket they shared and rolled over, wrapping most of it around herself. That was better.

  Yuri rolled on his back. His snoring increased tenfold. Annika clamped her hands over her ears and gritted her teeth. It didn’t help; the noisy sawing noise was too much. She poked her face out of her bedroll.

  “Yuri! Hey Yuri.”

  There was a grumbling noise, then the snoring started again.

  “YURI!”

  More grumbling.

  She gave him a push “Hey YURI! Wake up!”

  “What do you want?”

  “You’re snoring. I can’t sleep.”

  “I’m not snoring.”

  “You are. Like a great big pig. SNORT-SNORT-SNORT!” Annika pushed her pug nose up as she imitated a pig.

  “Funny. You are making oinking noises like a pig, seeing how you’re a blanket hog.”

  “A what?”

  “Blanket hog. Who has the blankets and who’s freezing?”

  “I was cold!” she protested.

  “SNORK-SNORK-SNORK!” Yuri pushed his nose up as Annika had just done.

  She sat up, still wrapped in the blanket. “That’s not funny. I am not a hog!”

  WHAP! Annika was knocked on her side. She righted herself, still wrapped in most of the blankets. WHAP! Down she went again. She sat up screaming.

  “HOW DARE YOU…”

  WHAP!

  She went down again. Yuri sat over her with a pillow in his hand.

  “What are you doing?” She was angry now.

  He looked confused. “Pillow fight?”

  “Pillow fight?” Then she understood. She wrestled her hand out and grabbed a pillow of her own.

  WHAP! Down went Yuri.

  WHAP! -WHAP! -WHAP!

  The fight was on. Annika was at a disadvantage, wrapped in the blankets as she was. To compensate, she grabbed a second pillow and began swinging wildly. WHAP-WHAP-WHAP-WHAP!

  There was a sudden tearing noise. One of Annika’s pillows split wide open and feathers flew about the room. Annika shrieked and laughed as a cloud of feathers drifted slowly about them. Yuri leaped forward and tackled her on the bed. She struggled.

  Not too much.

  The door was flung open. Major Campion and two of his guards pounced into the room, weapons at the ready. Annika gave a small shriek.

  “Yes, Major?” Yuri asked.

  Campion looked at the scene. He recovered quickly. “Nothing Ma’am, Sir.” he said. “Just seeing if you were ready for the morning workout. I see you’re otherwise occupied this morning. Very well. Carry on.” Her bodyguards backed out slowly and closed the door.

  Yuri still held Annika pinned to the bed.

  “You give?”

  Annika chuckled naughtily. “No way!”

  He kissed her.

  “Well, maybe.”

  He kissed her again.

  “Hmmm. I think my defenses are weakening.”

  Another kiss. Longer this time.

  “Hmmmm,” she purred, “maybe I will surrender. Only if you keep torturing me this way.”

  He collapsed on top of her. They kissed long and passionately, stopping only when the alarm clock finally went off.

  “Time to get ready for work,” he sighed.

  “Yup.”

  He looked around at the feathers and ruined pillow.

  “Don’t tell Mama!”

  Chapter 18

  Winter blanketed the steppe. The oceans of grass were now covered in thick mounds of snow. Arctic wind howled across the empty plain, clutching any who ventured out in its deathly grip.

  Annika and Yuri were happy, snug in their tiny home. Daily, Yuri would get into his hovercar and drive to his new office. Annika struggled through the drifts to the main farm house to collect the food for a few days and visit with the women there.

  Andrei paid Annika a visit one clear, frozen morning. “Annika, I have a favor to ask. Christmas is next week and we have no Snegurochka!”

  “Papa, Christmas was last month,” she answered. “And what is a Snegurochka?”

  “Bah, Christmas was last month if you are a stinking Roman! We are Russian. Christmas is January 7th. Four days from now.”

  “You didn’t answer me. What is a Snegurochka?”

  “You don’t know the story of Grandfather Frost and his granddaughter, the Snow Maiden? Were you raised by Cossacks?”

  “Proctors.”

  “Same thing.”

  “Yup. What is the Snegurochka?” she repeated.

  “Not so far from here and many years ago, lived a good couple, Ivan and Myra,” Andrei said. “They were kind people, always helping everyone. They had so many blessings in their life, save one. They had no children.

  “One Christmas, Ivan went out and built a little girl out of snow and named her Snegurochka. Grandfather Frost came around and saw how much they loved her, so he touched the girl with his magic staff and gave her life. She was a wonderful daughter, Ivan and Myra loved her as proudly as any Mama and Papa. One day, she met a fine young man and fell in love. She gave him a kiss and vowed to be with her parents and the boy forever. But she was still made of snow, so when spring came, she melted. The legend says, every Christmas Grandfather Frost brings her back for Ivan and Myra and all the children, to help him give out candy and gifts. Until her true love comes and takes her away.”

  “So, all I would do is help Grandfather Frost hand out gifts.”

  “And candies, yes.”

  Annika flashed her largest smile. “How can I say ‘no,’ Papa?”

  Yuri didn’t go to his clinic that day. He
had gotten up early and left a note for Annika, telling her he was going to Moscow. She shouldn’t wait up, he’d be home late.

  He hadn’t lied entirely. He drove his air car to the city and caught the sub-orbital to New York City.

  It hadn’t been easy to contact Noire, whose position in Imperial Intelligence kept him busy. Noire was in New York today and agreed to meet him at Lennon’s, a fine restaurant in Midtown. He hadn’t seen Annika’s brother since that terrible day in the Plaza, where the boy wore his despair on his sleeve so he was surprised to see Noire sitting at a booth, sipping from a cut glass and smiling. “Yuri! How wonderful to see you!” Noire didn’t get up. He directed Yuri to sit in the booth across from him.

  Noire ordered drinks. “I’m sure Annika doesn’t let you partake very often. Her intolerance to alcohol and all. So, what can I do for you?”

  Noire smiled, but his eyes did not. An akula stalking its prey, thought Yuri.

  “Noire, you know Annika and I are very fond of each other. I love her and I believe she loves me. You are her closest blood relative and I need to ask your permission to ask her to marry me.”

  Noire’s smile faded, immediate and with purpose. He shook his head.

  “No.”

  “May I ask why?”

  “Certainly,” Noire began to explain. “You deserve as much. I am a loyal Terran and I have vowed to serve my Empire and my sovereign. While my uncle is Regent for now, Annika will be Empress one day. If she marries you, she will want to stay on your farm and raise children. I can’t have that. You must let her go, just for a while, to learn how to be Khan. If she feels this way about you in three years, then I will gladly give you my blessing. But, today, the answer is no.”

  Yuri insisted. “I think you underestimate Annika. She plans on attending classes at Moscow University. If you allow us to marry, I can be sure she’ll finish school.”

  “I’m sure you believe that and you may very well be right. But I must be certain. The future of the Empire depends upon it.”

  “But I love her,” Yuri said, desperate now.

  “Yuri, it is not a question of love. I know my sister loves you. If she was any normal Terran woman, then I would be happy to give you my blessing. But she also loves our Empire and must do what is best. If you marry her now, then I can guarantee the Empire will fail inside one hundred years. We – Terrans - may even become extinct. Can you live with that?”

  “But what if she changes in three years?” Yuri asked. “What if I change?”

  “If either of you change to the point where you two are no longer compatible, I would be stunned,” responded Noire. “There are times when I am talking with Annika, you are all she talks about. But, I know her heart. If you asked her now, she’d say no. As happy as she is, she must prepare to assume her duties as Khan.”

  Yuri recalled the conversation that night in Giza. Annika had warned him of this, after a fashion.

  “Yuri, if you truly love my sister, you’ll have to trust her,” Noire said evenly. “Because this is what she was born to. Give me what I ask. Three years.”

  “And if you try to force the issue one day earlier,” Noire said in his dried bone voice, “you’ll not see your wedding day.”

  Annika smiled and raised her arms. In the mirror, the Snow Maiden looked back at her. Her normal braid had been brushed out and flowed down her back in a wave. A long, dark blue robe covered her from neck to mid-calf, ermine fur at its cuffs and hem. White calfskin boots and breeches complemented the Snegurochka costume, and a white fur hat completed it.

  She spun about and laughed gaily. Sequins had been sewn into the robe, glittering like ice crystals in the snow. A halo emitter was hidden in the hat, creating gentle falling snow around her. When Annika spun, the effect was a snow globe blizzard swirling around her. Andrei stood behind her, wearing a matching robe and hat. He had bleached his hair and beard a blazing white. “Now we are Ded Moroz and Snegurochka!” he laughed. “Come, Granddaughter, the children of the village await!”

  A large, handsome sleigh awaited them. It was so tall, Andrei had to lift Annika into it. A pillow softened the bench for Annika to sit on, and a thick bearskin hide awaited. She pulled it over her shoulders and burrowed herself in its warmth. Andrei snapped a whip, roaring with joy. The large horses neighed and began trotting down the snowy lane. Strands of bells hung on the harness, the ribbons tied to their manes waved about as the horses trotted to the square.

  The village square was gaily decorated for the holiday. A communal tree dominated it, heavily laden with lights and ornaments. Strands of evergreen and lights were hung over the streets. Smoke was at every chimney, smells of holiday cooking filled the air. Children came running from their homes upon hearing the bells on the sleigh of Ded Moroz and Snegurochka.

  They cheered wildly as Andrei steered the sleigh into the square. He stood and roared “Happy Christmas, children. My granddaughter and I have heard there are some very good children in a village somewhere nearby. Would you happen to know where I can find it?”

  “He-e-e-e-e-eere!” the children cried. “We all have been good, Ded Moroz!” Andrei reached into the bag next to him and flung handfuls of candy to the children. They cheered and scampered about, picking up the sweet treats.

  Annika climbed down from the sledge and handed out small gifts and bags of even more treats, cooked lovingly in the Russolov’s kitchen for many weeks. Small children approached her shyly; she embraced them and gave each one a candy. Parents had the smaller ones stand with her and take pictures. Annika laughed, thinking she would like this holiday, Christmas.

  Yuri approached the sledge. Andrei spied him and called out, “Children, look! It is the handsome young boy come to kiss Snegurochka and melt her heart away!”

  Yuri. He had been sad lately. Even now, he hung to the back of the crowd, looking so despondent. At Ded Moroz’ prompting, the children swarmed, throwing snowballs at the young doctor. Yuri gave a shout, gathering snow and throwing at the children. There’s my Yuri! Happy at last. I wonder why he has been so sad lately.

  Andrei waved at her. Annika ran from the sleigh to “rescue” Yuri. “Children, stop!” she cried.

  A snowball knocked her pretty hat from her head. Yuri was grinning, now, and stooped to scoop more snow.

  Annika cried out and the bombardment began again. Outgunned, Yuri turned and ran. Annika and the children gave chase to the edge of the square.

  The children waved “Bye-bye! Happy Christmas, Snegurochka!” as Annika chased Yuri down a side street. It was the end of the ritual.

  Yuri was waiting for her, leaning on a post holding the overhang for a building. He opened his arms, she ran to him. The embraced, cheek to cheek.

  “Annika.” Yuri said. His eyes pointed upwards.

  There was a sprig wrapped with a ribbon above them.

  “What is that?” she asked.

  “You don’t know what mistletoe is?” his eyes were wide.

  She shook her head.

  “This.” He pressed her lips to hers.

  When they parted, Annika was breathing heavily. “Oh, my,” she gasped, “I am liking this Christmas more and more every minute. So, this mistletoe means we must kiss, yes?”

  “Only your true love.”

  “Well, then.” They kissed again.

  “Yuri,” she said sadly, “I have to go off world. I need to go to school.”

  “I know,” he responded, “and I want you to go. You have a destiny, my love. I want you to go fulfill it.”

  “Do you believe me when I tell you part of me doesn’t want to go?” she asked.

  “Of course,” he responded, “But you have to go.”

  “Will you wait for me?” she asked anxiously.

  He smiled, “For ten thousand years. When will you leave?”

  “Spring. May, I think. After we go to the Temple of Angkor Khan.”

  “Are you sure you still want me to go?”

  “Of course! And Master Tahn said yo
u need to be there.”

  Snow began to fall. Mittened hands came together.

  Snegurochka and her beloved walked away.

  The Christmas party of Andrei and Clara Russolov was in full swing. Andrei had chosen the largest tree he could find and stood it in the parlor. When they were first married, the Russolovs made all their decorations. Tonight, those decorations were joined by two more generations of handmade ornaments. Painted clay figurines, sticks with yarn, tiny beaded balls - all were hung with care.

  Annika studied the tree. The heirs had never had such a thing. There were few holidays and even fewer distractions. There was always a Christmas tree in the palace, of course. An immense thing, it was covered with complicated and ornate representations of all the Imperial worlds. It was a holo, and it meant nothing to the Eight.

  This tree was different. It smelled, for one thing. Annika placed her nose next to a green sprig and inhaled. The sweet tang filled her nose. She could feel the pine slide into her lungs, tickling her. She eagerly inhaled again. She carefully picked up a decoration here and there, each with a tiny mark for who it represented.

  There were glass birds all over the tree. Painted on the feet were initials. A.R., C.R. L.R. She wondered what they meant.

  Clara joined her. “The birds, Clara, what do they represent?” Annika asked.

  “Each bird represents a member of our family,” Clara explained. “The initials are who each bird is. A.R. Andrei Russolov, C.R. is me, L.R. is Leonid Russolov, Yuri’s great-great grandfather.”

  ‘How beautiful. We never had anything like this in the palace.”

  “Ah, how sad. Well, here you do, Child. This is from Andrei and me.”

  Clara handed Annika a wrapping of tissue paper. Gift exchanges were unheard of for the heirs. She held it carefully, examining every inch. The tissue was pretty, a pattern of pastel colors. a bit of tape held the package closed. Carefully, Annika pulled on the tape, trying to delicately open the gift.

  “Oh, goodness, open it already!” laughed Clara. “You act as if you have never seen a Christmas gift before!”