Teramar: The Gathering Night

by Thomas Michael Murray

  “Open for Christ sakes,” shouted the uniform.

  The bright lights. The smell. This rude little man. The door buzzed again, finally opening to present another linoleum hallway. “Walk to that window and retrieve your personal items there. That last door leads to the waiting room.”

  Hadrian turned and the man was gone. Ahead was the same glass window from when he first entered the building. The prince rushed to the desk. Another officer acknowledged the prince with a kinder expression. “So you’re the one who got in a tussle with big Ben.”

  “I guess I am. Thank you. My things,” Hadrian asked in a heavy accent? The officer counted out each item sliding the prince’s possessions under the window.

  “You’re famous now,” the cop said. “Sign here, kid.” The officer gestured to the exit, “That way.”

  The seventies style handle on the big metal door would not turn. “What is my problem with these awful contraptions!?” Hadrian fussed. A quick moment of panic swept through him. “Push down,” he heard the officer say as if he repeated the same thing a thousand times. When the door finally swung open, before him stood a very tall black man who appeared to be waiting. The prince immediately recognized Shayne Wright. Hadrian was at a loss. He didn’t understand why the basketball player was here at this jail.

  Shayne Wright saw the confusion and introduced himself, “Hi Hadrian. Bailing you out is the least we could do. I would have made Ben come here but he was too sore from your judo move.” The star athlete produced a hearty chuckle as if he had been laughing about this for hours. “The coach told me you recently purchased a large stake in the team. Think of me as your welcome wagon to New York basketball.” Shayne put out his hand. “Nice meeting you. I’m Shayne Wright.” Hadrian knew enough about the custom to take the appendage. His own hand felt small in the other. They made brief eye contact.

  Incredulously, Hadrian asked, “You get me out?”

  “That’s right. The team’s management called over and dropped all the charges,” he said with a committeeman’s face.

  “Thank you very much, Shayne.” Hadrian was at a loss for what to do in the bright room. He scanned the area for the exit.

  “Come on. Follow me.” Shayne took one step and then paused. “Listen. You should know all of New York media is outside the building right now. We need to bring you through another door.” Gesturing to a young cop, Shayne said, “My friend here will walk us to the loading dock. I have a car waiting.”

  In the rear seat of a darkened SUV, they sped off to the east side. The electric glow of the city told the prince that it was early morning. The truck bounced through the potholes. Shayne’s enormous body gently rocked with the car. Hadrian smelled a soft fragrance. Nervously, he put in his ear peace and activated the device. Jessica said nothing.

  An awkward silence followed. The prince could tell Shayne Wright was trying to size him up without being obvious. After a few minutes, an easy smile crept over the big man as if he made a decision.

  “Hadrian is an interesting name.”

  “My father.”

  “Alright, here’s the deal. Since you kicked Big Ben to the curb in the most public of settings, where the press got a ton of great shots of you doing that, they now want more great shots for their newspapers. There is no way you can return to your hotel right now. You need to give it a day for this whole thing to cool off. The paparazzi are on the hunt for both of you. Ben’s holed up in his apartment.”

  “The papa what?”

  “Paparazzi. Italian for reporter. The tabloid press.”

  Hadrian knew what they were. “So much attention. Jessica is going to be very cross with me.” His blue eyes were wide. “What I do? New hotel,” asked a worried young man?

  Shayne moved his hands indicating calm. “Hadrian, we owe you. Ben was rude. And then, we pack you off to the precinct jail. You being one of the owners of the team. I have plenty of space in my apartment. You can crash in a spare bedroom. When the reporters see you’re a no show, the circus will clamor on looking for their next victim.”

  Shayne leaned forward and spoke to the driver, “Jerry, we’re going to the apartment.”

  Curious, the prince asked, “Earlier, in locker-room, Ben recognize me? He knew me?”

  “Hadrian, we’re always talking shit about people in the front seats. Don’t trouble yourself.”

  The truck suddenly struck a crater of a pothole violently rocking the two young men. The prince literally flew off the seat. Shayne put his arm out and caught Hadrian before he smashed his head.

  “Gotchya. These streets are the worst,” said a laughing basketball star.

  “Yes. Very bad. Thank you. And, thank you for, what do they call it?”

  “Bailing you out.”

  “Yes that.”

  In another minute, the driver left them under the awning of Shayne’s building. After a quick elevator ride where neither said a word, the accordion door opened and Shayne put out his hand to indicate this way. Inside the darkened apartment, Hadrian saw the outlines of a large room that looked upon the East River. Yawning to himself, Shayne packed the prince off to one of his bedrooms and then turned to bed himself. Hadrian immediately fell asleep as soon as his head hit the soft earth pillow.

  Hour’s later, fresh light burned under closed drapes. Hadrian rubbed the dried crust under his eyes. This sleeping pallet was another wonderful earth bed, designed for giants. The prince sat up and customarily shook out his hair so it tumbled round the shoulders. He was in a real earth person’s home now.

  Through the closed door, Hadrian could smell that beverage everyone in New York greedily consumed. Shy but curious, the prince stumbled out and shambled toward the smell. The house was much larger than his suite. Shayne heard the floor creak.

  “I knew the smell of coffee would get you up.”

  The tall man turned to cheerfully greet the prince and then abruptly shook his head in dismay. “Hadrian, can you put some clothes on? I know all you Scandinavians are used to nudey saunas but come on man!”

  Hadrian looked at himself and then Shayne again. The prince was so used to appearing sparsely clad. They always hunted close to nature, cleaning their kills in the nude. The young warriors never thought of the male body as an embarrassment. Rather, the opposite. Shayne’s awkwardness was even amusing, coming from a man who changed in a very public locker-room.

  “I have a million bathrobes. I’ll get you one.”

  Shayne returned with something made of black silk that resembled a kimono. “This should work.” Hadrian slipped the soft fabric round. Made for a giant, the garment fell to the ground like a wizard’s robe.

  “Big, but comfortable,” said the prince. “And again, thank you…helping me.”

  “The least we could do.” Some of the friendliness had left his voice.

  With a skylight in the kitchen, the morning sun helped disperse the lingering unease. The two men continued to appraise the other over careful sips of the hot liquid. The prince said what was on his mind, “You probably want me out?”

  “Yeah, I have to go to practice. The coach is driving us hard.”

  Shayne casually moved to a shiny device he called a “toaster” to cook two pieces of some circular bread. After scraping a creamy texture across the surface, he served this “bagel.” For the prince, the warm, chewy food was delicious on a winter morning. When the athlete started to clatter about the sink, Hadrian respectfully excused himself and returned to the guest room and his regular clothing. After the prince reappeared fully dressed, Shayne asked, “Can you get to your hotel ok?”

  Hadrian nodded yes.

  “Everything should have calmed down by now. The hotel will eventually drive the reporters off.”

  At the entrance to the apartment, the two young men barely acknowledged each other as young men do. Each gave the other a shy final smile.

  “Thanks for breakfast.”

  “No problem. See you around.”

  Before the prince actu
ally walked through the door, Hadrian realized this moment would be his one opportunity. He therefore channeled a prince’s confidence and asked, “Shayne, do you make exercise? You… Me?” Ever confident, always competitive, Hadrian ultimately fantasized he would challenge the great Shayne Wright to a real game of basketball.

  Shayne laughed at this. “I think you meant ‘do you want to workout sometime?’ Yeah, maybe.” He sounded unsure. “I’ll certainly see you at the next game.”

  The door closed.

  Out on the street, Jessica raged in the prince’s ear, for as much as Jessica might rage. Her normally smooth voice turned into an agitated, unstable pitch giving the impression of sincere anger. She hadn’t had an opportunity to deliver an opinion for many hours. “Your highness, you cannot become intimates with these people. And more importantly, you cannot assault every earthling with whom you have a disagreement. I realize on Teramar, you were encouraged to stand up for your honor, but here without a security apparatus to protect you, that kind of behavior is out of the question. You need to immediately return to the ship.”

  The sun flashed off the river forcing the prince to squint. He understood Jessica’s complaint. She was right. He couldn’t just clock everyone and anyone who crossed his path. For Hadrian, however, a bumpy entrance to this planet was not a reason to pack up and run for the ship. The prince had only just met the lovely Angela Munoza and he wanted to see her again. And now, there was Shayne Wright.

  “Jessica, I’m not returning to the ship. You know it would kill me. I promise to better control my impulses.”

  “Sire, please leave earth now! We will regroup on ship. You need exposure to proper earth simulations in the halo-room,” she said smoothly. Her prior erratic tone was gone. The reasonable, calculating Jessica had returned.

  “Let’s stop discussing this, machine. I’ve made the decision.” An iron resolve pushed these words. “I am walking to the hotel. Can you please call Angela now?”

  His earpiece immediately rang.

  The Great House on Remus

  The glittering fleet that encircled the once green planet was lovely to behold. To the naked eye, the ships resembled an innocent patch of space ice. But for the poor souls on Remus, the Uriah armada was a deadly piece of work. Upon arrival, her majesty’s gun ships immediately pounded the planet with their big pulsar cannons. Thankfully, the civilian population had enough of a warning. Most were able to abandon the farms and vineyards for the safety of the capital. Months into the siege, scorched earth was all that remained across great swaths of the planet. Years would pass before the rich soil yielded new vintages. A connoisseur of fine wine, her majesty procured a lifetime supply for her entire entourage in anticipation of the war’s effect on Remus.

  Settling at stalemate, Prince Titus remained in firm command of his capital city. Carpinia was well fortified with renovated systems. The new shields and generators were holding strong in the face of the fierce assault. Not for a lack of will, the Uriah cannons failed to rupture the city’s power grid. Although Titus was shocked and dismayed at how quickly the empire changed hands, he was determined to maintain an autonomous stronghold on behalf of the family.

  From behind the great shield, Titus and his men patiently initiated a counter insurgency upon the Uriah troops stationed on Remus. Titus personally led many of the bloody raids. After months of killing, their predicament almost turned routine, if one could ignore the tragic loss of innocent life. And on the eve of another dangerous mission, a Remian communications probe intercepted a lonely transmission from deep space. The message had come to them across the light years. The author was a machine. This Jessica. Her text was a short string of coded words that officially confirmed the crown prince had safely made it off world. Naturally, the king’s brother knew about the secret warship, now in the possession of young Prince Hadrian. “But how can we develop a serious plan through months old text snippets? The boy needs to come home.”

  Titus’s woman glided to him across the blond floor. Today, the big house was reasonably quiet compared to the past days of havoc. Claudia moved behind her husband and put small hands on his shoulders. “I thought you were going to take a nap before we meet with the refugees from the king’s estate?”

  “I can’t sit still. There’s too much worry blarting though my head. Deep down, I know we are on the brink of change and for the better. The enemy straddles a volatile situation. Mindless cruelty hardly endears the people to the queen. If we could break my brother out of that prison, we’d certainly rally all the clans. But they need to see him if we are to inspire colossal defections!”

  Titus turned round and looked into his wife’s lonely eyes. Often, he could not read her thoughts. Claudia offered, “Well, there is new hope beyond this intuition. You heard from your nephew. At least, that is the talk.”

  “Yes, I hadn’t told you. I just received the message - a mere few words,” Titus said defensively. “It confirmed Hadrian’s escape and the unfortunate loss of Archibald Cox. Our nephew is now in command of a state-of-the-art warship. Albeit, one that’s light years away.”

  “The prince royal is a capable young man,” said his wife. Her voice faded.

  Nothing stirred except for a silent hover that slowly moved across the horizon. The sky had a heavy feel to it. Muttering to himself, Titus said, “If the prince returned to us, the news would spread like a hot fire on a dry day.”

  Claudia walked across the room and poured herself a glass of herb water. She took a long sip and put the vessel down. The warm wood floor was reassuring in this age of plastic and processed metal. The old house could easily soothe frayed nerves. “What I don’t understand is how they got the main computer to their side? Cataline was designed for the king by the king.” Claudia turned to her husband. Her eyes were finally bright. “That machine is what tipped the whole thing in their favor.”

  Nodding his head, he added, “I’m sure that was an old plan of theirs, possibly harkening back to when the king first built the machine. The Uriah could have bribed, threatened or blackmailed one of Cataline’s designers to insert a latent program that over-road the standard loyalties. That would be their style.”

  Claudia replied, “I suppose the queen’s family has proven themselves to be extremely patient, although they are not especially clever. More, blunt instruments.” Anger flickered across normally serene features. She was learning to hate them as well.

  Titus said with a long sigh, “Charles is really the only brain in that operation, although that man is a beast.”

  The smell of the evening meal started to waft through the house. Since Titus was the king’s brother, he and his consort still dinned at a well-laid table. The royal couple made a point to invite commanders and prominent citizens to their hall to share the bounty. Claudia continually rotated the guest list so many might enjoy real food again.

  Simmering with the rage of an outsmarted warrior, Titus impatiently growled. “You are correct, Claudia. Control of that computer made the difference. The old men in our family always warned against the rise of robots.”

  Still a relatively young man, Titus had his brother’s looks and at a distance many might mistake him for the king. Yet unlike his brother, Titus never sought a life at court. Years ago, he privately lobbied for the title, “protector of the home world.” A life on Remus would assure the king’s brother might live out his days to a ripe old age. Titus had no desire to reside on Teramar where people consistently had shorter life spans.

  Acquaintances from childhood, Claudia’s family was also from a great house and over the years the two grew fond for each other. Unlike most marriages within the clans, there’s was not arranged, although it was heartedly endorsed. As a wedding gift, his brother, the then new king, granted Titus the sought after commission on Remus.

  An old planet, the Remian capital still carried the charm of easier times. Shimmering in its own reflection, the royal palace was set against a lovely lake while its streets ran around the royal compo
und in an old world maze of zigs and zags. In normal times, the city supported many plazas and open markets where the population enjoyed life out of doors in the classic Teramarian tradition.

  Following the Uriah assault, Carpinia quickly lost its festival atmosphere as the greater population flooded to the city in an unorganized panic. With all the responsibility of caring for these many thousands, Claudia quickly became weary and worn securing sufficient food and shelter for her people. “I suppose no one is ever fully prepared,” She muttered to herself. Unfortunately, the siege was now dragging on for unabated months. Leveling a stare as only a wife gives to a husband, she vehemently complained, “What bothers me is that your brother treated them so very well.”

  An obvious anger that smelled like hate rose inside Prince Titus. “When I get my hands on that traitorous whore,” referring to Livia.

  “Titus. We are not they!” This year, premature grey raced through thick hair and worry lines dug into her face. Recent events were taking an obvious physical toll.

  “Look at me. I am turning into one of them. I have had the most barbaric thoughts as of late.”

  “No, husband, you are not turning into one of them. Events have ground you down like the rest of us. Our whole history has become tiresome. We never seem to evolve.”

  Titus added in a softer voice, “The king even married one of them and raised her brother to command the forces on Teramar. By nature’s way, I pray he still lives. Really, we’ve had no word.”

  “I’m not sure even Livia is capable of killing the father of her three children. But with them, one never knows.”

  Titus put on a clean tunic. He returned to the great window and gazed across the mist. The mountains were green against the sky’s grey backdrop, blending together at the peaks. Beyond the shields, however, there was no perceivable green, only the black and brown ash of scorched earth.

  “Claudia, shall we go down and interview the survivors from brother’s estate?”

  Taking his wife’s hand, the Prince and Princess Capet descended the large staircase that led from their apartments to the public rooms. At the bottom was a reception hall, gilded in the usual gold and marble. Rich wood beams supported a vaulted ceiling. And in the dramatic Termarian fashion, large trees led to a modest dais. Standing before the royal couple were a new set of refugees along with a handful of advisors. Also present was a younger son who had remained on planet. Alexander, of course, was somewhere in deep space.