Teramar: The Gathering Night
Page 11
Throne Room
Like insects sucking on a ripe piece of fruit, ten of them intently watched an enormous halo that presented the interview between father and daughter. Her majesty oversaw the proceeding looking down from a magnificent, living throne, one that attached to a miraculous wall of sculpted vegetation. As with most things Teramarian, the great hall excreted the sweet smell of plants, a narcotic musk that could cause mild intoxication in the uninitiated.
After saving the queen’s life at the palace party, Sineas found himself unceremoniously elevated from one of Prince Hadrian’s bon vivants to a trusted member of the queen’s inner circle. Sineas’s father, the great Lord Alimar, could hardly congratulate his son on this promotion to a new troupe of dandies. More exposure meant more risk to everyone in the immediate family. “The woman is a menace,” his father privately communicated to his son. These uncharitable inclinations could not be spoken aloud, however. Spies were everywhere – both living and mechanical.
Everyone present witnessed Princess Alian first gasp at the sight of her father’s moribund condition. Sineas barely recognized the man on the three dimensional screen. Although the young Uriah lord longed to return to the way things were before the coup, Sineas had to publicly tout and contribute to all of the overdone enthusiasm. Their lives had become an enormous lie – devoid of real honor.
The queen kept the interview brief, dispatching a drone to officially end this meeting of father and daughter. Cataline whispered, “Majesty, your daughter approaches,” Curtains drew apart as Princess Alian glided between the ancient trees. Even the royal daughter followed protocol and slowly bowed before the queen. After paying homage to her mother, the princess turned around and inspected the cast of characters. She carefully inclined her head toward Sineas who acknowledged her. Public recognition by a headstrong princess was not likely to help the young lord.
The princess started, “Yes. I went to visit father. I am sure all of you were watching.”
“Be quiet daughter. Yes, we all saw.” The queen laced fingers through golden hair. She was alert today. Calculating eyes appraised her daughter.
“Are Hadrian and I next? Bound for prison?”
Livia looked into the anxious, angry face. She told herself, “Be strong for your people, Livia. Dig deep.” The queen then smoothed every aggravation from her mind. Carefully, she chose her words.
“My dear girl, you and I used to be so close once. Do you remember?”
“You and I, close? When was that?”
“Alian, you have to believe I will always love you and your brother. You are my children. Truly, the succession plan has not and will never change.”
“Maybe your plan has not changed, but what of Uncle Charles’s plan?”
“My darling, his family, my family… We all need each other. Charles realizes the people will only accept young Hadrian as the new king. Charles also knows I would never give either of you up. Our people need continuity now more than ever.”
“Mother, many of our friends and family have disappeared. Vanished. And what of father? He’s going to die in that place.” Real emotion played on the princess.
The late afternoon sun slowly colored the room blood orange. Two of the moons could be seen swimming onto the eastern sky. The hall was open to the great lawn. A quiet wind batted their ears. Without a word, the two women eyed each other. On many levels the queen agreed with her daughter but the situation was what it was. Livia was bored by Alian’s inability to grasp the obvious. “Daughter, an old debt needed to be paid. You know our way. The weak shall perish. Your father became weak. He knows the costs of failure. He failed.”
Shocked by the callous position, the princess shouted, “Father ruled with justice and heart, mother. He tried to make good on the old stain. In fairness to his fairness, can’t you at least get him out of that cell and into something more hospitable?”
Firmly, she replied, “Your father will remain in those accommodations.”
“Thoooose are not accommodations. He lives in a box. Please?” Alian pushed aside her distaste for her mother and started to beg. “Do it for us?”
“In the grand scheme, there are many things I wish I could reverse.”
Each tried not to blink. The princess whispered, “He is our father?”
“I speak for more than I on this,” was all the queen could admit.
Moving to a new subject, the queen broke from her daughter and turned the royal gaze upon young Sineas Alimar. The queen raised her voice to catch the room’s attention, “Sineas dear, we need you to send a message to our Hadrian.”
“Yes ma’am, but alas I do not know where he is,” he replied in a most respectful voice. He bowed his head to show proper humility.
“Yes, Sineas. We all know that claim of yours,” the queen said impatiently. “However, I have also been told you boys in our great army frequently send notes to each other using a private code that can float through the network undetected?”
“She spoke the truth!” Sineas tried to wipe the guilt from his face. The woman saw everything. Carefully, he chose his words, “Majesty, I have not received any communication from his highness. Nor, have I tried to send word myself. Lord North’s men have thoroughly examined all of my personal effects. They do so regularly.”
In the back of the hall, another young man quietly immerged from the shadows. Palace staff and other officials often lurked behind the big arbors in the rear. The boy had a girlish face and wore only a hunting sarong. “In the throne room,” some gasped. Unlike Sineas and the other young warriors, this one’s skin was chalk white from limited exposure to the sun. The queen granted special privileges here. With irritation, Livia addressed her pet, “Cannon, who let you in?”
Everyone knew of this spoiled young man. The fact that he flaunted such familiarity with her majesty was shocking in of itself. Someone in the group snickered. Livia shot a harsh glance at the sound.
She said, “Cataline, who did that?”
“Nulius. One of your personal guards, majesty. Would you have me punish him?”
As Livia pummeled the offender with a queen’s glare, she answered, “No, we will deal with Nulius after we conclude our business here.” The guard stood openmouthed. He had made an irrevocable mistake. Amidst the bellicose world of Teramarian chauvinism, a certain brashness was tolerated, but insulting the queen’s lover and in her presence went too far. Poor Nulius was the exact opposite of Cannon, older, aggressive, dark and with a full beard. He was a loyal clansman, but that would not protect him today. Nulius moved to say something. Before the man could utter a word, the queen cut him off with her voice, “How dare you speak without my leave.” She waived a graceful hand and a red beam arrogantly lanced the air and penetrated the man’s head. They could all feel the glow of the searing heat. An expression of horror was frozen on the face but then it instantly melted to nothing. Steaming water rolled before the throne. Sineas was covered in red.
“Someone, please get a cloth for Lord Alimar’s son,” ordered Alian. The princess was disgusted by the demonstration.
Livia settled back onto her green bench. She ignored the dead body and addressed her lover, “Cannon, maybe you can be of some use beyond your usual talents? Please give us a demonstration of how you communicate with that little friend of yours on Remus.” Eager to please his mistress, Cannon immediately activated the com that hung round his neck as a pendant. The device then emitted a piece of music that was currently popular with the young people. Everyone could clearly hear the loud beat.
The queen raised her voice over the sound, “Cannon has modified the file where the instruments in this particular song now tap out a code of his design. Since there is nothing inherently dangerous in this file, our security system ignores the secret. Cannon then places the modified song onto the network and the Remian friend retrieves it.” The queen looked over at the sulking Sineas who was wiping his face clean. “Sineas dear, I believe that is how you two do it. You and my son.”
Anger flared on Livia’s face. He called her ma’am – again and again. She narrowed the royal eye and said, “Sineas, there is no evidence my son is light years away. He could just as easily be hiding on any of the thirty-six planets. You will still try this for me. I will compose the message for you. And you will send it today.”
The queen did not present this as a request. Abruptly, she stood and grandly swept out of the room, alone and without her guards. Tension fled the hall running after the queen. “At least it wasn’t me,” they all thought.
Running for Deep Space
Growing up royal, Alexander Capet wanted for nothing as the third male heir to the living throne. Everyday was an adventure with Prince Hadrian and the other young aristocrats. The king gave the royal progeny a wide berth to range and roam. Thanks to an earnest education at the king’s school, the young princes fully understood the dark history between the two great families – taught at a very early age. Hadrian’s father insisted on running an honest operation when it came to raising their children.
But the queen’s coup was a thunderbolt through the family. When Remian probes recorded the Uriah ships bearing down on the Capet home world, his father ordered their small fleet of hovers to make a run for deep space. Begrudgingly, Prince Alexander obeyed those wishes and made immediate preparations. He saw the obvious logic to the order although clan-pride pulled at him to challenge the threat rather than flee from it. Everyone on his bridge saw a formidable enemy that in all likelihood would make chase.
Only a year prior, his majesty commissioned Alexander to command the small hover fleet assigned to king’s home world. Prince Hadrian lobbied that his cousin receive this position. The young man’s father, however, believed his son was far too young and would have certainly awarded the command to someone with more experience. Alexander was only a few year’s older than his royal cousin, although they hardly resembled each other with regard to looks. Bred for size and strength, Prince Alexander certainly fulfilled the genetic objectives of his family’s breeding program - built thick as any grand father’s tree. The prince royal, on the other hand, grew taller and fairer resembling the Uriah line.
Throughout their short lives, the young princes were always close friends. The two fathers, the king and lord prince, naturally encouraged the association. The boys joyfully flew blasters, hunted the enormous forests and competed in the arena together. After graduation from the royal academy, Prince Hadrian continued to visit his aunt and uncle on Remus, traveling there with his fawning posse and Commander Cox. On their native lands, the hunting was always superb. The Remian forests were thicker and even more untamed than Teramar’s. All the lodges were fixedly rustic without a trace of technology.
Restless, The dark prince abruptly rose from his command dais on ship’s bridge. Everyone stopped talking. The young man’s presence was impossible to ignore. Alexander jauntily shouted to his team, “Get back to work, girls. I need to take a long piss. Commander, you have the bridge.” The young noble strode off the dome and entered a public facility that serviced all the necessary functions. “Ahhhhhhhh,” he exclaimed as the urine drained out of him. Large dark eyes furrowed as he contemplated the next half hour.
Hot in pursuit, the queen’s fleet had gained on Alexander’s host as they made the calculations required for hyperspace. Older and slower, the prince’s ships could not maintain the distance between themselves and the Uriah war party that was bearing down on them. Pushing the limits of the design specifications, Alexander both encouraged and admonished his engineers to complete the necessary arithmetic for the jump to light speed. Five minutes. They needed roughly five minutes to finish the equations.
Unlike most of the hovers in his multifarious fleet, Alexander’s command ship was newly christened, carrying a complement of fifty Capet clansmen. Modern and fast, his ship could easily outrun the Uriah hunters. The issue was the other ships under his care, many of which had seen over thirty or forty years of service. Altruistic to a fault, the young prince refused to leave any of them behind to be slaughtered. Alexander therefore ordered the flagship to match pace with the slowest vessel. Those with the best cannons then formed a ring around the vulnerable. He further demanded the older ships push their engines to the limit – near flameout capacity. “I know we’ll make it,” he prayed.
The bridge was alive with chatter as the coordinate quickly approached. Boom. Boom. Boom. The Uriah military had already started to fire upon them. Boom. Boom. Flashes of fire bounced off the shields. Alexander’s hover shook. The prince had to grab the support bars as the explosions caused disruptions in his own ship’s gravity. One’s body could get very light and very heavy without warning. As he tried to swing into his seat, Alexander missed the chair and hit the floor in a thud. He heard light laughter from the team. “You think that’s funny,” he said to them? “Falling on my ass?” Alexander wore his usual happy smirk. On his bridge, the young prince was one of the few who encouraged humor.
“Sire, red squadron is ready,” said a nervous helmsman, who looked even younger than Alexander.
“At ease, Bunny. I’ve got eyes.” The prince didn’t need a computer to tell him the enemy ships were near. He shouted, “Put my com out to the fleet. I’m going to give a little speech.”
Instantly, the bridge crackled with feedback as multiple speakers projected the deep baritone. “Everyone, this is Alexander. The Uriah scum are obviously upon us. Please no heroics for the next five minutes until we reach the coordinate.” His voice carried the confidence of a prince. “Remember who we are. Alexander out.”
To his bridge crew, he said, “Get the leader of red squadron on the com.”
“Immediately, my lord.”
Alexander heard the new channel open. “Cheops, can you hear me?”
“Yes, my lord.”
Cheops was from a minor house. The young commander was fortunate in his friendships with Alexander and the other young men in Prince Hadrian’s circle. That association advanced Cheops to the best schools and his family advanced with him.
Until today, Prince Alexander had never ordered men into battle – a real battle. Other than the light adventure of tracking wine smugglers, the kingdom had not seen a real war in many years. The young prince pleaded, “Cheops, the same for you. No heroics. Just slow them down. One or two shots each. When you hit the coordinate, then please hit the button and activate your hyper-drive.”
“Anything you say, my lord.”
“Don’t be disrespectful, you stupid bitch. You have men under you. This isn’t a blaster chase. Alexander out.” Those were the last words.
Alexander gave the signal and the smaller strike force floated away. He could hear their dialogue through his own console. “Tight formation,” Cheops’s thin voice sang. They aimed at the heart of the fast approaching Uriah mob. Miniature video hovers followed red squad into the breach. Alexander’s team would watch the entire battle on a three-dimensional halo.
Cheops readied his ships, “Gentlemen, prepare to engage the enemy. Move on one. Five. Four. Three. Two.” Twenty of his best pilots barreled down on the enemy, unleashing a barrage of high-grade red beam. At such a range, Alexander saw the Uriah force shake. Their command vessel rocked from side to side. Responding to this assault, their great starship released two newly minted, turris-hovers from its birth canal. The prince had heard of these new ships but had yet to see one. A Uriah scientist had adeptly packed more power onto a smaller frame. With great speed, the new ships moved into position, looking directly into the swarm. The Uriah weapons were fully charged. They opened fired. Alexander watched in horror.
The opening blast was devastating. “My lord, red squad’s lost half their ships and the Uriah fleet hasn’t sl
owed.”
Alexander desperately shouted to his com, “Red squad, you’ve done your job. Get out of there. Nowwwww!”
There came a screech. “Ahhhhhhh, on fire!” The halo-screen flashed and then Cheops was gone.
“Where did he go,” the prince roared? He touched his console and switched to other probes refreshing his view. Alexander gripped his command bench as if he was going to rip it out.
“His ship no longer exists, my lord,” confirmed the helmsman.
The countdown continued. “Three minutes.” The helmsman added, “Our shields on the port side are flickering.” We took heavy fire.
“Fix that now. We also need to offer cover to the older vessels that can fit.”
“Are you addressing me, my lord,” one of his men asked?
Alexander could have hit him. “I’m looking at you, fool. Move! ” The young officer leapt to his feet and slid down the ladder for the power grid.
“Only one minute, my lord,” shouted the helm. Fleet conversations bubbled across his consol. Bright flashes punctuated the screen as other ships evaporated. “Nature’s way. Cheops is dead.” The prince took control of his own set of cannons to unleash a lethal rain of fire on the pursuing hovers. Doling out death felt good. He also offered cover, clearing a path for his own. “To me,” he cried in the com. “Get close.”
“My lord, the shields are ready.”
“Then, now!” On queue, the hover’s shields extended, during the critical last few seconds. Hovers linked to his ship as lampreys. The computer began the audible countdown. At zero, the room started to stretch like a piece of rubber. Outside, the stars turned to rivers of light. The booming explosions stopped. All was quiet but the hiss of climate control.
Alexander exhaled. He noted similar sentiments from his team. The bridge was hazy with smoke. The hover remained in one piece.