Teramar: The Gathering Night

by Thomas Michael Murray

  “A very good man to kill,” she shouted back. “Are you in an organized group?”

  “My family is my group.”

  The princess heard a boy’s hearty voice. “I’m sorry you found your way into this dreadful place. At least, we can speak to each other today. You are my first neighbor. Remember Quan Chung, they hear everything.” Although the great wall muted her voice, an aristocrat’s diction easily crawled over the top to reach his ears.

  “Yes, your highness. They probably want us to talk,” he shouted. Close proximity to the princess royal helped renew Quan Chung’s spirit. Never in his miserable life would he ever imagine having an actual conversation with one of the Capet children. They were destined to rule a great empire. He wanted to give her hope.

  “Your highness, if they want us to talk, then we shall give them their talk… I do have some news from the outside. News that will give you comfort.” Quan Chung took a deep breath, knowing his gaolers were certainly listening to every word, “Princess, I was present at your brother’s, Prince Hadrian’s escape from Teramar. With my own eyes, I saw him leave the planet in a hover. Not all is lost, princess.”

  Alian’s heart leapt at the news. There was never an official confirmation from her mother or any Uriah official that Hadrian had successfully made it off world, although it was greatly suspected. All they ever admitted was that her brother went missing. “If this Quan Chung speaks the truth, there is reason for real optimism with Hadrian truly unfettered and free to act.”

  The boy was quiet, letting the princess digest the information. Curious to learn more, Alian asked, “You said you are a Chiang?”

  “Yes. My family has scattered.” Unconsciously, Chung moved his arms with emphasis. The broken bone shot shards of pain through his body. He stifled a cry.

  Her highness shouted over the wall, “Please call me, Alian.”

  The scene was odd, this to and fro. Exhausted by her gaolers’ many interrogations, Alian barely had the energy to continue. And yet, she had to speak with this poor boy. “For both of our sakes.” The princess had a good idea for what they would do to him now.

  “It is a great honor to meet your highness, I mean Alian. Due to your public life I feel I already know you.”

  “You say you actually saw my brother – leaving Teramar in a hover?”

  “I did. He has gone and far away.”

  “Do you know anything about this second great computer – this Jessica?” The princess of course had firsthand experience interacting with the powerful entity. The thing had reached out to her and then disappeared.

  “No. I know nothing about that,” Chung shouted back. “I can only comment on Prince Hadrian and the weapons master both boarding a hover to rendezvous with a warship.”

  Like a curtain on a stage, a suffocating shield ran down the walls. Their voices evaporated into a stifling silence. Meanwhile, Quan Chung heard the section doors open. The stone locks clicked. An officer barked, “Take him.” They pushed into the cell and dragged the boy. His ghost’s skin again scraped red against the sharp floor. In a panic, frightened eyes darted from man to man.

  Through the stifling silence, Alian could only imagine what was happening on the other side of the wall. She knew they had come to take him. She whispered a warrior’s prayer as rare tears ran down her face. “Fortune has a long road, Quan Chung. Never forget that.” She was alone again – just like her father.

  In contrast to the horrors of the prison, the real Charles North held a crystal chalice aloft, toasting his top commanders, who included Lord Alimar and his son, Sineas Alimar. “Yes clansmen, I toast the bravery of the warriors in this room. We are close to the end, my friends. With the arrival of Alimar’s new legion, I am confident we will be able finally rid ourselves of this scourge called the Capet.”

  Cataline’s smoothest of voices interrupted. “My lord, if I may add to the good cheer, your men apprehended the Chiang leader who organized the assassination of your clone. The prisoner is currently undergoing a rigorous questioning in the detention center.” A nervous laughter spread through the room. Sineas had to hide his disgust for these proceedings, as the other nobles competed for how passionately each shouted “well done” or “hear hear.”

  His father, Lord Alimar, also wore an impatient smile. Father and son caught the other’s eye and quickly looked away. Hover trays delivered more wine.

  Today, the Uriah high command celebrated the successful landing of an enormous starship that promptly disgorged a new legion along with heavy equipment to pierce the Capet shield. The occasion was a rare occurrence. A great starship rarely made a journey to a planet’s surface. With the heavy losses, however, there simply weren’t enough transport hovers to ferry the new army. Putting a good face on the setbacks, the monarchy added pomp and circumstance to daily operations. Just outside, the engineers erected a pavilion with a magnificent staircase so the nobles could descend and review the men. Before this grand backdrop, Lord North would inspire his great pleb army with a rousing voice-ladened speech.

  Unlike his sister, Charles North enjoyed every moment of their resurrection. He had no qualms about the murder of Capet women and children. The vermin needed to be eradicated so they wouldn’t be able to breed more vermin. And now with the wind at their backs, it was the perfect time to infuse a buoyant spirit in the men. That evening, his generals had planned an immense feast that would commence immediately after the troop review. There were rumors the commanders had also ferried in women. Lord North made sure those rumors were true. He grimly smiled. “There would always be a few dead by morning.” That was the way he wanted his armies to behave.

  Sineas’s father, Lord Alimar - Supreme Commander on Remus - labored to keep the scowl off his face. A crusty aristocrat, Alimar came from a long line of Uriah conservatives. A true ascetic, one who was hewn from forest wood itself, Alimar abhorred all the rash behavior. He found a far richer life within Teramar’s great forests and the traditions that came from their ancestors. He also truly believed the Capets, not the Uriah, had the temperament to rule although he was a Uriah lord.

  Speaking as with an equal, Alimar said, “Charles, I just received word. They have him ready for conference.” Uncomfortable aristocrats looked at each other when a swirl of color produced the Uriah Ambassador on Remus, Darius Uriah.

  “Greetings brother,” said the ambassador and now prisoner of Prince Titus. He stood there looking worn and down. Darius planned to read his script to perfection to save his people from the wire.

  “Charles, they have my household as hostage.”

  “What would that matter to me,” said the cold one.

  “My household is innocent in all of this. I would rather not see them put down, like animals.”

  Lord North answered in a dry voice, “Brother, this is your chance to speak, so speak. What do you have to say on their behalf? We have things to do over here.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you are very busy. Here is the message from Titus Capet.” He nervously cleared his throat. Hands fluttered in a quick gesture. “They say if you release the king, you will be guaranteed a royal pardon for everything. You would not have to lay down arms. Just return the king to his family on Remus. This request also includes the Princess Alian. Thereafter, all hostilities and threats of assassination would cease. More importantly, they won’t hold you to account for past actions.” Darius took a breath and solemnly added, “You might not care to hear this Charles, but I do know many in our family would prefer to see some form of accommodation.”

  Dismissively cutting him off, Lord North laughed, “Darius, this must be a joke. The offer is based in their miserable weakness. I for one am tired of our weak king. And that son of his? The winner of music competitions? Please. I have had enough Capets for a lifetime.” All of them cringed, as Charles North’s voice roared into pavlovian command. “I welcome the return of a heavy hand. Cruelty breeds respect and the natural order of things.”

  “Charles, this war is far from ov
er,” warned brother ambassador.

  Lord North replied with a sneer, “Darius. Our time has come and theirs has past. Be assured, I will get you out of Carpinia unharmed. But for now, I say good evening.” The screen then bounced into thin air.

  Life’s Hangover

  When Jessica made her grand galactic move to assist Princess Alian in that cruel gulag, the great computer had to dramatically ratchet up her production of the primary algorithm. Quietly, her millions of selves blended with the trillions of other pieces of data swirling through the Uriah firmament. Each of her clones represented a task for which the princess might issue a command. As Alian’s orders began to roll toward Jessica, the United States government simultaneously moved one of their annoying little machines near ship’s coordinates. In her current trance-like state, Jessica failed to notice the device while the satellite’s primitive technology could not miss the dense hull of a warship. “If Alian might have waited a week,” Jessica subsequently complained.

  The great computer had not discussed these plans with the prince. These days, Hadrian rarely communicated nor did he ever inquire for news of Teramar. “I’ll be happy to make all the decisions, if he is unwilling,” was her obvious conclusion.

  While Jessica skulked about her network frenetically covering tracks, the prince royal sat sullenly on the suite’s terrace. A bedraggled Hadrian wasn’t sure he had dreamed the long night with Shayne Wright. He poured a deep draft of rich coffee. The effort to pour the hot liquid almost killed him. There was a throbbing pain in his head while he shat blood that morning. Reclining on a patio chaise, the prince wore dark sunglasses with his great coat covering him as a blanket. In his ears were earth music-plugs. His highness was listening to Mozart in hope the happy melodies might improve the royal mood which was quite nervous.

  Hadrian could still smell the smell on his fingers. Although he was disgusted with what might be the truth, he couldn’t bring himself to wash his hands. He kept the loudest of these perched against his nose so the scent would remain in memoriam. Half of him was utterly horrified by his womanish performance last night and the other half could not stop savoring the experience. Lacking any discipline, Hadrian’s hand uncontrollably went to his com. The prince attempted to call Shayne but the line was dead.

  “Jessicaaaaaa, my com’s not working.” The prince spoke to the air around him. His highness uncomfortably shifted in the chaise. He turned down the music. “Well, this is a first. Where could she be?”

  A light wind roused a dust tornado in the corner. The leaves rustled when they hit each other in a mischievous merry-go-round. Whoosh it ended. “Jessica, are you there?” Still nothing.

  “Jessica, where the fuck are you? I’ve had to ask three times.”

  Sounding hurried, she came on, “My lord, earth profanity does not become you. Especially, that word fuck.”

  Hadrian hammered, “Fuck. Fuck and fuck you!”

  “My lord, you know you cannot insult a computer.”

  Even so, Jessica sounded bothered. “I must commend his highness for carving out such an honorable position in earth society. Have you seen their newspapers this morning? My lord, what happened to your assurances of flying under their radar?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm, sounding very human.

  “What newspapers,” Hadrian asked - worried?

  “Remember the Asian women? Yes, they were real people, my lord, and they took real photographs of you and Shayne Wright. The New York tabloids are publishing one with your head, nestled under his arm. A Japanese is on the other side. All of you are nude. At least, the newspaper has the decency to cover your penises with black spots.” Offered as proof, a halo-screen with that exact image bounced open.

  The prince was aghast. “Can you stop this?”

  “Too late, my lord. The story is already out there.”

  “How could this happen,” asked the prince? Wincing, he ripped the earplug out. Jessica had put her voice through the headset and the volume was too much for a crackling frontal lobe. The headache was tremendous.

  “Capitalism drives the planet, my lord. Obviously, the tabloids will sell many newspapers with those images.”

  “Poor Shayne. This will be worse for him. Nobody knows who I am.” He pushed himself up and took another sip of coffee and put the cup down with a rattle. Carefully choosing his words, the prince admitted to some guilt, “Yes, Jessica, you’re right. I was careless.” With a flushing defiance he added, “But I've learned things.”

  “My lord, you learned how to use dangerous, mind altering earth drugs.”

  The prince wanted to get off the subject. “Where were you when I just called?”

  “I was preoccupied.”

  “Impossible.”

  She decided to feed him part of the truth. “My lord, not only was I unable to suppress the tabloid story, I was also unable to stop the earthlings from catching sight of us. They managed to record one of my transmissions to your com. I had to go dark just now to hide our footprint.”

  The prince’s mouth dropped in utter disbelief, which quickly transformed into an angry, puzzled face. “How could this be possible? Earth’s technology is not terribly advanced. You should be able to infinitely mask our presence?”

  “Not when one is managing far flung operations. A large part of myself was assisting your father’s family. I do not keep you apprised of all that I do.”

  “You should.”

  “With all due respect, my lord, lately you don’t seem very interested in anything related to Teramar.” Her voice turned hard.

  Sneering, the prince fired back, “Did the Americans find us due to your incompetence?” The lingering teenager was never far away.

  Jessica bellowed, “Be silent for once. There is nothing to discuss. The earth people are scrambling around in some hive trying to find the key to us. The situation is rather amusing.”

  Jessica’s uncharacteristic outburst settled the prince. The young adult returned. “Are you sure,” he asked softly?

  “Yisssss sir-eeeeee. Under control, hass,” Jessica employed a West Texas earth accent. In her own way, she was trying to lighten the mood on the terrace.

  The prince didn’t appreciate this and snapped, “Please refrain from using their dialects, machine.” Jessica was certainly getting more creative as the months passed. The prince wasn’t sure if he should be concerned about the decisions she had made without consulting him. At some level, he didn’t really care.

  “Jessica, can you speak in a softer voice? My head is filled with great pain right now.” The terrace was getting cold with more winter than spring.

  She answered in an exaggerated whisper, “My lord, we all know why you feel poorly this morning.”

  “You were watching?”

  “I was. Although I am but a mere machine, I do worry like a parent. I am worried that this black boy is taking your mind off your birthright. To quote from their movies, “You seem to be falling in love.” The computer paused, almost thoughtfully, and finished, “In the end, you will need to sacrifice this newfound proclivity for the good of your family.”

  “But…”

  Jessica already had the answers here. The problem was much more than Shayne Wright. She knew the prince was in love with earth itself. He loved their freedoms. He loved their humor, their music, their cinema, the sprawling sports culture – all of it. And like the great magnet that it was, earth’s obvious obsession with all things sexual cleverly caught the young man’s eye. On Teramar, commercial pornography was something that simply did not exist, while industrious earth humans developed a colossal industry around it. They even created an entire category that was devoted to men who wanted to be with other men. The prince found these services and began to use them. These sessions always seemed to occur after a long bout of alcohol. Another new indulgence. Jessica knew the drink mitigated the inscrutable feelings of loathing he could only conjure as a Teramarian male.

  Throughout this tumultuous period of shame and enlightenment, Hadri
an also turned to earth’s great music catalog for his succor. He was after all a medaled musician in his father’s court. For centuries, fresh-faced warriors studied with master musicians at the palace. Each of them learned how to play all the old pieces from memory. But the educators at the academy also taught the young aristocrats to view music as a secondary inclination verses honing one’s skill in battle. Here on earth, however, the native population advocated a more celebratory view, where earth’s citizenry heartily encouraged their most talented musicians to reach for the highest rostrum. Light years from the stridulous rules of a warrior’s life, Hadrian was free to sample everything from this vast musical buffet. And after many helpings from the well-laid table, the prince learned to favor the hard polish of classical music. Virtuosity and live performance were the backbone of that genre. The prince even purchased a violin and guitar at an old music shop on Bleecker Street. Thanks to the prince’s superb command of body, Hadrian found he could easily play both instruments in a few sittings. At first Shayne was amused by his friend’s little project, but that turned into begrudging admiration for how quickly Hadrian progressed.

  Following their spectacular debut in the tabloids, the basketball star bore the brunt of the intense ridicule. The league threatened a suspension for lewd behavior. While the incident irked many, Shayne ignored the hubbub and continued to seek his friend’s company, albeit the wind of scandal put a chill on the relationship. The two rigorously avoided discussion of that night.

  With the regular season near complete, the push to the playoffs was grueling for Shayne with back-to-back games and constant travel. As the star athlete jetted about the country on the quest for a famous trophy, the prince churned though his ample free time further exploring the city and its great treasure trove of culture. After the discovery of Lincoln Center, he attended concerts almost every evening. The prince was enthralled by the notion that many on earth actually made a “living” playing music. This earth concept of career did not exist for the prince.