Teramar: The Gathering Night

by Thomas Michael Murray

  “Get him up,” she impatiently spat at her guards.

  The same men who delivered the king roughly pulled the royal body off the ground. His head rolled from side to side causing her face to come in and out of focus. They pulled it back and pointed him at her majesty. She wore calm arrogance today.

  “I’ll be direct,” the queen said. “I need to know the location of our son?” The king heard the question but gave no response “I know you can hear me. We pulled back on the drugs.” She nodded at a brute standing near. A boot kicked the king sharply in the groin. The pain was searing. He wanted to scream so many things but couldn’t.

  “Everyone is dead, Hadrian. We can easily handle the rest of your rag-tag band of retainers. Go ahead and kill yourself,” she taunted.

  The king knew his wife’s confidence was a fraud. Otherwise, why had she dragged him from his miserable cell to the throne room of all places? She was never good at subtle negotiation. “The woman gives everything away.” Sensing these bedraggled thoughts she roared, “Bring her out.”

  Doors swung open and a second phalanx of men pulled a young woman into the cavernous hall. The girl violently struggled. Her legs pushed and slid against the smooth surface, like a reluctant child. Out of the corner of his eye, the king saw who this was.

  “Yes, I knew you were awake you sentimental fool,” mocked his wife.

  They placed the girl before the king. She was a favorite. A mere virgin when they first met. The girl was the opposite of Livia, dark sinewy and lovely. They ripped off her rags. The girl’s body was rich and perfect. The king knew every inch of it. One of the men then rolled out a silvery blade that flashed in the light and proceeded to elegantly remove one of her fingers in one cut.

  The girl screamed and bucked against the men. Her eyes frantically rolled like an animal in a fire. She looked to her lover for relief but the king pretended not to see what was happening. The guard bullied her closer, held the finger and then squirted warm blood onto the king’s face. He could hear the feathery drip on the stone floor.

  In truth, Livia was disgusted by this whole exhibition. Her husband’s lover was indeed a charming girl whose only fault was that she was her husband’s lover. Livia also knew this grotesque scene would be far from persuasive. Yet, she had to play the part. Her brother was watching. The queen nodded to the carver to continue.

  The left ear came off.

  Next was her right hand. The girl was blubbering hysterically.

  The king remained silent although his heart quietly screamed and screamed. Too many lives depended on his silence. The smell of blood crept into his nose mixed with the scent of the girl. She was right there in front of him crying for mercy. How many lives depended on his returning Teramar to a civilized state?

  When she fainted, the guards promptly woke her with a brutal hand across the face. After another quick stroke of flashing metal, the right arm fell to the ground in a light thud. A thick pool of red inched underneath. The queen urged her husband in soft voice, “Nothing Hadrian? She could still be spared and made whole?”

  The king walled off his mind. Many more would die.

  New York City, Above Central Park

  Early, early in earth’s morning, the prince stood within the hover’s open dock a few thousand feet above Central Park. His highness surveyed the darkened cloudscape. A rush of cold air thundered through the hatch. At this altitude, Hadrian took measured breaths, straining for oxygen.

  This morning, the prince was dressed as a young New Yorker and warmly for their winter. His suit was closely fitted sleeves, collars and straps. Nothing could be loose when the prince was in free-fall. Irritated by the tight fit, the prince yanked-open the confining top button. He had been lounging in a hunter’s sarong these past weeks.

  “Do I see you smiling, sire?”

  “Please stop. Must you comment on everything? We are not friends.”

  A console rose from the floor. Arrayed on the tablum were important objects for the mission. Jessica reviewed each, “The animal-hide rectangle is a purse or what earth men call a wallet. Inside this wallet are two thousand American dollars with an assortment of credit cards. If you require more cash, earth’s institutions maintain small machines that dispense this necessity. From your endless hours with their television, you must be aware that money is critical for navigating a city like New York.”

  “Yes, Jessica.” The prince used his dead voice.

  Now she would get him. “And for the evening’s basketball game, I have reserved courtside tickets. You need to retrieve these at the arena box office, prior to the game. Present either the passport or driver’s license I made for you.”

  “Courtside! Jessica!” He couldn’t pretend to be sullen now.

  “Apparently, money can get you anything on this world and you are a crown prince after all. You should have the best seat. Now sire, immediately make for the hotel when you land to establish a base of operation.”

  Hadrian loaded the wallet and other items into his pockets and pulled closed these odd earth zippers. “I guess I am ready.”

  The computer continued, “As we reviewed in your training, I created a legitimate identity for you. You will be Hadrian Capet, orphan and heir to a wealthy European family. Think of yourself as a well-off tourist, who is visiting New York. When you speak English, remember that you have an accent - Scandinavian to their ears. Please stick to the prepared story, as your earth biography will truly exist in their records. My lord, I think it really is time. We need to get you on the ground before daylight.”

  Hadrian spat impatiently, “Alright. Then enough of your prattle.”

  “One last thing, sire.” The prince sighed. “When you wear your earpiece, know that I see and hear everything. If there is an issue, I can scramble a hover in minutes to lift you off planet. If for some reason, you lose your com, then appropriate an earth person’s telephone. I will make contact using the local machines.”

  “Does she think I am an idiot,” growled the prince?

  As Jessica spoke, she pushed the hover closer to the surface. Hadrian adjusted the arc of his leg to accommodate the ship’s angle. He carefully strapped a grav-pak to his chest – a newer device born from the latest class of hovers the monarchy produced. The grav-pak was the only item that would appear suspicious to an earth person. Luckily, it was a compact device that could easily fit in a backpack. For something like his com, Jessica made that resemble an earth phone.

  Without asking or saying goodbye, Hadrian dove off the hatch. Immediately, he dropped like a bullet, head first with arms at his side. He loved the exhilaration bouncing against the water-laden clouds. Mist sprayed his face. The gravitational pull was heavier than Teramar, which increased the velocity of his descent. The free-fall rush brought back memories of his friends daring to see who would break first.

  The prince angled his body like a knife toward the coordinates of Central Park. The cold wind burned his face. Once through the clouds, he could see the large black island that was the park. Hadrian knew he had to slow his pace, as the human body would eventually lose consciousness. Carefully, he applied the breaks and gently pulled back until he was on the hard packed snow.

  The prince shivered. “This place feels colder than it reads.” Hadrian had never suffered snow. Jessica previously advised that he first experience earth’s winter in a halo-room, as Teramar was a warm world. The prince did not do as she advised. “Bhrrrr. Maybe that was a mistake?” Shivering, he quickly placed his equipment into the small pack. Hadrian checked his com for directions and set off with purpose.

  Ahead was an obvious road that was sporadically lit. Walking south, he heard an odd mechanical chugging that followed him. The prince quickly ducked behind a hanging rock. He caught the unmistakable scent of something burning.

  “They still use fire to power their machines.” He was curious about these earth automobiles. A searchlight came on. Hadrian further pressed against the rock. A second light appeared and flooded the spo
t where he was hiding. Then, he heard the crackle of a public address.

  In a loud blare, a voice trumpeted, “You there. Step into the drive. Put your hands in the air and wait for the car to approach.” Furious at his bad luck, the prince obeyed the words. “Blast. Only five minutes and the authorities are on me!”

  Calmly, Hadrian waited for the squad car to approach. The machine glided alongside and the window slid down. In a soft Bronx accent that carried a lilt from County Kerry, the man said in a friendly voice, “Ok lady, what are you doing out here at this hour…? Oh, sorry. I thought you were a tall woman. No offense, you have the long hair and a gir…I mean a young face. Now kid, you don’t look the type that wanders around Central Park at the crack of dawn.”

  The prince had seen enough police shows to know who this was. “NYPD. The real thing.” Hadrian whispered to Jessica, “Yes, I’ll stick to the script.” He didn’t want her to overreact.

  The officer heard Hadrian mumble in another language and asked, “What was that you just said?”

  “I was out for exercise - jog.” The prince moved his arms to demonstrate. He knew from watching hours of their television that thousands of people came to New York’s Central Park for their daily walk or run.

  “Yeah right. In those clothes and those shoes? More like you’re out of money from a big night and are taking a short cut home. Get in. I’ll take you to the South Gate. You really shouldn’t be here. The park is dangerous at this hour.”

  Hadrian muttered, “Maybe dangerous for you!” Pulling on the chrome handle, the prince was met with an unmovable door. He jerked clumsily and began to feel the fool.

  “Pull it up,” Jessica whispered. The door flew open and the prince fell back – almost onto his buttocks.

  The officer chuckled. “Easy tiger. Now I need to see your identification.” The prince handed the man his counterfeit passport.

  “You’re from Norway. That explains the hair. And, what are you doing in New York?”

  “I go to basketball game. Madison Square Garden tonight.” He awkwardly spit this out. The English was in his head but for some reason he couldn’t say the words themselves.

  “You came all the way from Norway to see our team play?”

  “Yes. See New York.” The prince veered to the truth now. Genuine enthusiasm showed on the young face.

  The officer recognized the exuberance of a real sports fan. Moynihan was one himself. Almost everyone in New York loved the team, who were doing well this season. Moynihan also had enough sense to spot a real criminal. This kid was no criminal.

  “You’re not traveling with anyone?”

  Hadrian understood everything the man said. Forming the words was the difficult part. His reply was awkward, “No travel with people, police officer. Why questions?” Hadrian tried to woo the man with a royal smile.

  An awkward silence filled the space between the two men. Moynihan gave Hadrian a hard look. “You seem innocent enough. But, there is something else going on here. There’s something not right with you.”

  Hadrian was tempted to make the man unconscious. He could have done so with a quick hit to the face. And yet, this man was only doing his job. They caught each other’s eye again. The prince raised an eyebrow as if to say, “Come on?”

  The officer relented, “Ok, Hadrian. I’m going to leave this alone. Other than being in the park after hours, you’ve committed no crime.”

  The rumbling automobile was cozy and warm. The officer put the machine into gear. When the young cop pushed the accelerator, the smell of exhaust barreled into the car. His highness was sensitive to the dirty air. Carbon was everywhere.

  The officer noticed Hadrian’s shivers. “Not used to the cold? I thought Norway had long winters?”

  “Yes, weather cold. No like cold.”

  The line of elegant buildings that signaled Central Park South came into view through the trees. Moynihan pulled up to the gate. “Ok Hadrian, nice meeting you. I’m sure you’ll own this town after people take in the likes of you.” The prince nodded his head and exited the machine as quickly as possible. Moynihan sped off in a gust of smoke. The prince released his breath in a slow stream. “That was close.”

  Jessica muttered into the com, “If you stuck to the story of a lost tourist, there would have been less suspicion. New Yorkers wear special clothing when working out. You’re wearing clothing for an evening out.”

  A techy prince bit back, “Machine, I lack the patience for your endless comments. You never stop.”

  “I am watching you, sire.”

  Jessica made reservations at one of New York’s tonier hotels. After a suitable investigation of various situations, she concluded that at a more expensive lodging, fewer questions would be asked. On the corner of Fifth and Central Park South, the prince looked at his com and started walking toward the address.

  Trekking through the canyons of Manhattan was a surreal experience. Hadrian was awed by the shear size of this city. On Teramar, the government did not encourage great concentrations of people. Whereas on this planet, long cavernous streets stacked everyone on top of each other. As the edges of dawn crept across the sky, the city began to slowly move. Early morning diners served their coffee and eggs. Workers waited for crowded buses. Others streamed down the dark stairs that led into the dark subway.

  In a few blocks, the prince found himself outside the hotel. Although Hadrian was used to the grandeur of his own palace, he had never been exposed to anything close to New York elegance. Due to the early hour, the grand canopy was fairly quiet. Uniformed men idly stood at the entrance. Hadrian wasn’t sure the purpose these men served. Would they stop him like the Central Park police officer? The prince pulled himself up to his full height and strode into the building without making eye contact. Hadrian moved quickly. Nobody stopped him.

  Once inside the lobby, he scanned for where to turn next. The cavernous room had a temple like quality, which reminded him of home. Other early risers dotted the couches, relaxing and drinking various forms of hot and cold libation. There were two formally dressed earth people behind a grand marble desk. They looked inquiringly and official. Hadrian thought it natural to walk over and speak with them.

  “Sir, do you have a reservation,” the woman asked? She was young and pretty. Hadrian provided a friendly smile.

  “Yes. I have.”

  “Sir, I need your name.” Hadrian provided it.

  “I see you in here, sir. Two nights?”

  “Yes, I say…longer. Maybe.” The prince stumbled through the language.

  “You mean you might staaay longer with us?” She was used to helping guests who did not speak English. The hotel had actually hired her because her second language was Chinese.

  “Yes. That I mean. Staaay longer.” He was nervous. Perspiration beaded on his forehead.

  “I am sure we would be able to accommodate you. The hotel is rather open this week. May I have your passport or driver’s license?”

  The prince wasn’t used to handing over little pieces of paper. He normally never carried anything. Hadrian dutifully yielded the passport. He also caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Blond clumps stuck out from both sides of his head. His suit was damp. He looked a mess.

  “You reserved a corner suite. Can you supply a credit card please?”

  “This piece?” He handed her the plastic rectangle.

  “Yes, the card is going through.” The prince’s confidence grew. The hotel concierge returned the documents with a room key. She then explained the hotel policies. Hadrian was tired and yearned for privacy. The day was already getting long. She asked, “You don’t have any bags?”

  Hadrian guiltily presented the small backpack. “Should I have bags,” he thought?

  “We are finished here, sir. The elevators are around the corner.” The woman smiled and pointed. He had watched enough television to know what those were.

  Upon conclusion of the checkin process, the prince successfully made the journey to h
is suite. But standing before the door itself, he experienced problems “deactivating the security lock” to get inside. When the maid trolleyed by with her cart, he was still fumbling. She noticed his struggles. The prince wasn’t swiping the card at the appropriate angle. Jessica furiously analyzed the predicament. She knew the magnetic strip was the key to the door but she couldn’t find an adequate explanation for its operation from the manufacturer’s database. In a flash, she swept though all of the earth networks. The research yielded nothing. Jessica could not advise her liege. Nervously, Hadrian smiled at the housekeeper. Basic English fled his mind.

  Without a word, the woman took the key-card out of the prince’s hand. He instinctively held onto it and she had to tug. Then, she quickly swiped the card along the track causing a green light to flash and the door to click open. She smiled showing a gold tooth. Jessica hissed, “Give her money.”

  Hadrian immediately recognized the good sense of Jessica’s suggestion. He mumbled thank you in poor English and handed the woman one of twenty hundred dollar bills that he carried. Hadrian didn’t understand the tip was excessive. On Teramar, the prince never had to touch money. If he wanted or needed something, others usually procured the desired item and quickly. The housekeeper tried to return the bill but the prince insisted and pushed the piece of paper right back at her. She smiled nervously accepting the tip and wheeled her cart down the hall. The prince dove into the safety of his room. He sighed with immense relief.

  “I made it.”

  Looking around the suite, Hadrian was pleased with the accommodations and the great view of the city. He stepped out onto the suite’s small balcony. The endless hum of New York City traffic rumbled below. Weariness quickly crawled over the young man. The prince hadn’t slept well the prior evening. He saw the earth bed through the open door and instinctively went back inside to lie down. “Apparently, every culture has one of these.” In seconds, our hero was snoring to the cream colored ceiling.