“I am sorry to interrupt you, majesty.”
Livia exhaled clearly expressing disappointment. She put a hand to her forehead. The moment had gone. A bellowing anger roiled up. “What do you want now, machine? Can’t you see I am busy?”
“Majesty, you are always busy.”
The boys disengaged with a loud sucking sound. The queen nodded for one of them to prepare a fresh glass. The boy obeyed in the lazy gate of a famous racehorse. After he poured and replaced the decanter, she glared, “Not enough!”
Cataline had the good sense to let his queen get settled. After she laid her head against the grand headboard with a grand sigh, the computer continued in a businessman’s tone, “I come to you, majesty, because I have news that requires your immediate attention.” The computer then related the details of a seditious communication from an important member of the palace guard. “Why is he interrupting my few moments of peace with this?” The boys were restless.
Livia cut it off, “Cataline, please stop. There is no need to discuss the matter now. You are being such a nanny. With all your experimentation upon yourself, I worry that you have become too emotional. The end comes to all of us, you know. One needs to accept this and move on.” The queen took a long draught from the chalice. As if speaking to a young boy, she added, “Is there anything else? You can appreciate I am presently engaged.”
“Yes, there is something else, majesty,” added the computer still all business. “With Metak and the fleet gaining on this Planet Earth, I was able to retrieve a large cache of data from that world. There is some news…”
“Yes. Yes. That’s all very interesting.” The aphrodisiac had started to take serious affect and she was becoming distracted by the smells rolling off the bed.
“Your son features prominently in something the earth people call ‘the Internet’ – an earth invention… or rather, public network with limited censorship. Prince Hadrian is a well known figure on this Internet.”
“Please get to the point.”
“Your son appears to have quickly built a new life on earth. He has friends. Worse, there are clues he has taken a male lover.”
“My goodness. Dear Cataline, you arrrrrre an alarmist. If I understand you correctly, you are worried about information from a data feed, from a planet that is light years away?”
“Yes majesty, I have prepared a halo-report of my findings for your review.”
The cynical queen posed a lazy comment, “Have you considered these stories might be a placed fiction? The prince has many reasons to distract us from the mission at hand. To lull us into a false sense of security as we approach this earth? He is a clever boy.”
“Majesty, there are billions of individuals that contribute to the unique identity of this Internet. I can easily discern the patterns of fact.”
“Sexual relations with another man?” Livia raised an eyebrow. This didn’t seem close to the truth. Her son had a warrior’s backbone. There was never even a remote suspicion that he had an inclination for something like that.
“I give it a sixty percent probability. Of course, I don’t have access to the prince’s bedroom as I do yours, my queen.”
“You have too much access to mine,” she cried!
“Witnessing every aspect of your life helps me anticipate your needs, majesty.”
Ignoring the implication, she mused, “Even if what you say were true, does this news change our plans? No, of course not.” She paused. “My son will return to us whether he likes it or not.”
The computer replied, “You will have to compel him.”
Boosting the confident overtones in her voice, she said, “Just be ready for a fight. And Cataline, please destroy all your reports on this subject. No one in the military can know of your suspicions.”
Yawning, one of the twins rolled the queen onto the royal tummy and pulled her apart again. She looked back at the boy. “Cataline, do you ever wish you could do this to me?”
The computer answered as if speaking to a friend, “Yes Livia, I’ve always wanted to serve you in every matter. Remember, I am the inventor of this latest, most potent round of your favorite cocktail.” The machine infused a creepy affection into his voice.
“Do I hear you blush,” she smiled? The queen knew her machine was making a machine’s attempt to be charming.
“On another subject, majesty?”
“More? Please stop.”
“It is about your brother. You have avoided all the logs from Remus. He plans to firebomb the planet to break open their shield. Those weapons are forbidden.”
“Yes, I have avoided the reports. My brother really has become more animal than man. He was cruel even as a child.” She was quietly disappointed the Chiang assassination failed. The queen vaguely knew of that plan. She could have officially scuttled the effort and arrested the ringleaders. Unfortunately, Charles wisely deployed his clones.
Aware that almost every word she uttered was observed, she spouted back the official drivel, “Fear keeps them pliable, Cataline. If they fear us, they will respect us.”
By now, the drug was coursing through all of her organs. Her breasts felt pleasantly warm and in need of fingers. This would be the last time with these two. The boys heard far too much from the computer’s report and would naturally have to be put down. “Swiftly and painlessly of course. Maybe while they slept here tonight?” Prior to this execution, she still required everything from them. Quickly, the queen drained the contents of a generous decanter.
The White House, Washington, D. C.
Saturday Morning
A meticulous man was the leader of the free world. Well into his second term, the country was beginning to look a better place from when he first came to office. But the job itself had extracted a physical toll from the man. “These first six years passed as twenty.” The president’s face now exhibited deep lines and his hair had turned completely grey. All of the occupants of the oval office went through a similar transformation.
When reports began to bubble up, stories relating to an alien presence, the president didn’t quite know how to initially respond. His scientists were convinced something odd was occurring out there, but the president found their reports lacking. Recorded seconds of a hovering sphere was not enough for a skeptical leader. Naturally, his indefatigable NASA Director, Dr. Justine Martin, and her hardworking team threw themselves at the mystery where she initially submitted a catalog of malfunction and failure. Normally the president would never personally review such details except that Justine Martin presented these mishaps as evidence of systematic sabotage. Thereafter, she moved her lab to the heart of NORAD. Once the lab was finally constituted and her analysis complete, Justine’s team quickly added the basketball star, Shayne Wright, to an implausible mystery. An avid sport’s fan, the president knew all about Shayne Wright, which included the tabloid shenanigans.
Quickly, the FBI found Shayne Wright’s close associates. On the very evening the bureau moved to apprehend these people, Justine Martin forwarded live video of an alien space ship hovering over Indianapolis. She sent this directly to his personal phone. “There was no mistaking what it was.” The president then witnessed both Ben Smith and Shayne Wright’s recognizable frames board an elevator that carried them into this spaceship. Adding bizarre to the bizarre, Hadrian Capet, the apparent owner of this machine, took second prize at the famous music competition inside the building below. “The winners play at the White House for Christ’s sake!” A near two-term president, the country’s leader had seen many inexplicable situations over the years, but none of it could ever compete with today’s events. Naturally, he considered the implications for the American people. He also reflected upon Hadrian Capet and these friendships the alien cultivated. “Why Shayne Wright? Why classical music?”
Unfortunately, the images of the spaceship raced to the public. He couldn’t prevent that. Plenty at the concert carried cameras and the national press arrived in force. Within the hour, live video wa
s on every major network. That evening, the president addressed the nation and urged calm. He made the point that the alien’s interest in classical music suggested peaceful pursuits. The following day, most of the world remained calm but for the usual fringe groups and their talk of Armageddon. Meanwhile, the president had more mundane worries like a market sell off or a run on banks.
After an uneasy sleep where he returned to work early the following morning, an unknown woman contacted the leader. She did not introduce herself. The specific phone line she used was reserved for world leaders with whom the president had important relationships. This bored sounding voice skipped the salutations and niceties embedded in diplomatic conversation and bluntly stated that a Prince Hadrian wanted to meet and establish formal relations. To emphasize the seriousness of the overture, and causing the leader of the free world to nearly soil his undergarments, a narrow beam of energy poured through the roof of the White House into the oval office, a mere five feet from the president’s desk. Immediately, the secret service tumbled through the door and then bounced against an invisible shield that restrained them.
Jessica delivered this demonstration to assure her prince would be taken seriously. The Uriah fleet was bearing down on earth and the prince looked exceedingly young by their standards. As the beam crackled through wood and steel, her voice loudly projected into the room for all to hear, “Mr. President, please don’t move, sir. Think of this as a small display of our power.”
In response, the president pitched his own voice as an official order to the secret service contingent that strained against the force field, “Gentlemen, cease your resistance and remain calm!” Then addressing the entity, he angrily complained, “Is this how you make your introductions? By committing and act of war on the United States?”
The beam went off in the next instant and the elegant room returned. The smell of burnt carpet wafted up the new chimney. Once the secret service understood that the force field was off, they formed a protective ring around their president. Jessica said calmly, “Sir, no one was injured although you will have to patch this new leak in your roof. It’s an old building, isn’t it?”
“Was that humor,” thought the president? He remained silent.
The woman finished with an invitation. “The Teramarian Prince will arrive at your office in two hours time to present himself and also deliver an important message. Please feel free to include other associates as witness.”
The president thought to himself, “Dear god. I am making first contact.” Just as suddenly, the phone line went dead where the woman’s voice followed the smoke up the new chimney.
Without a second to waste, the president activated his intercom and barked, “Mrs. Murphy… Joan, get me the top people on this project – Justine, Jolly. The whole fucking crew in my office now. Also, please tell the leaders of the political parties and the joint chiefs to also haul their asses over here. And now!”
“Yes, sir. Sir, what of the Chinese President with whom you are to meet today,” replied an official voice with a hint of Irish brogue?
“Bring him and his people. The more the merrier.” The president was both thrilled and nervous. The ultimate question of ‘are we alone’ had finally been answered. New religions will be born. Old religions will be modified. Two hours wasn’t much time to think.
The Black Keep
Miandar tremulously looked up at his uncle’s hard face. The younger man knew the interview was highly unusual. Darkness followed the black guards who summoned him. The reception hall funneled darkness like an industrial drain. The chamber carried the stale smell of dried blood, summoning the visceral memory of his work at the state prison. Experienced in the ways of human suffering, Miandar could taste the residue of violence here, no matter the thousand cleanings his uncle’s staff undoubtedly administered to every nook and cranny. This was the place where punishment was ladled out. One cruel beam of light cast a brilliant silhouette around him.
Some weeks ago, when he first received orders to return to Teramar, Miandar was elated that his lord uncle awarded him this task of interrogating his important cousin, the Princess Alian. Both Miandar and his brother, Cornelius, had lived too long in the shadow of the royal prince and princess. In this year of Uriah triumph, Miandar finally enjoyed a sincere appreciation for past service. The two brothers had survived a grueling banishment in the desert due to their very public attack on the prince royal.
Princess Alian’s astonishing fall from grace was of particular interest to Miandar. He too was one of the many men she had humiliated in the workout yard. Coming from a penurious line of the Uriah clan, he and Cornelius jealously watched how the royal children flaunted a lavish life. Of course, Lord North was aware of the animosity between cousins, and when he learned of Miandar’s notoriety as an interrogator, he concluded his nephew was the perfect candidate to pull on Alian’s rigidly ordered mind. After a month on the job and without any worthy information to tell, an impatient uncle finally reviewed the vids that documented his nephew’s efforts.
Miandar expected the summons. Standing alone under this unfriendly gaze, a clattering of sound crashed upon them as Cornelius rushed into the room, always late. A small squadron of the elite guard then closed the opening and officiously formed a distant ring around the two subjects. His uncle gave Cornelius a stern look. “Cornelius is dead,” Miandar shivered.
Lord North wore a high collared black uniform that blended with the dark surroundings. The man preferred uniforms to the lose fashion of the day. A large head loomed out at them. “Nephew, why are you treating these sessions with Alian Capet as some art piece in sadistic behavior?”
Older than Prince Hadrian, Miandar assumed his full height and tried to meet his uncle’s cold stare but eyes quickly veered away, embarrassed. Lord North was a busy man and he couldn’t personally attend to every single detail of the family’s rising. He expected his surrogates to deliver results. Silence hung uncomfortably in the bloody air. Miandar opened his mouth to answer but his uncle interrupted him, “After you had your manhood bitten off and reattached, one would think you would have tried a different approach?”
“Yes, sir. That was an unfortunate incident. She is highly trained and resilient. Recently, however, she seems to be bending to us.”
“Shut up. Did I say speak, imbecile? The princess is gravely ill while she is with Queen Livia’s grandchild.”
“Uncle, I never would have hoped for irreparable harm to come to the princess as I am the father of that child she now carries.”
“You are not the father.” The sound was superbly modulated voice command. One of the guards flinched. Miandar shrank in horror. “This is not a game, nephew. We need to mix our revenge with accomplishment.”
The terrible light ground upon them echoing an angry glare from the black dais. Lord North boomed, “The queen was asking for her daughter. Should I show her the video I just reviewed? Cornelius, what say you?”
Miandar tried to suppress an irresponsible laugh, which he quickly concealed - pretending to cough. He knew how things worked here. Some form of payment would be required today. His uncle continued, “I try to give my people earned rank and opportunity to do well for the clan. I know how those Capet children have haughted around for years, and how they looked down and ignored you two in their circles. I have eyes. With Alian, I was giving you a chance to extract your own form of payment as well as be of some use to the family. You have generated nothing. Appointing you as lead interrogator was a sorry mistake.” There was motion behind the young men. Miandar sensed soldiers now fleeing the black hall.
“Fool! Are you listening? Alian interacted with the prince’s computer,” he hissed. Lord North’s face was distorted with rage.
Miandar remembered how he had given the princess sweet looks at the palace parties only a few years prior. She could be coy in a fleeting way and then the girl ignored him for weeks. The prince, of course, always paid him little heed. Hadrian surrounded himself with Sineas, Alexand
er and the other, rich boys. Once when he and his brother were in the practice yard, wearing battle masks and sparring with long sticks, a young noble from a minor family strode onto the floor and purposely challenged Miandar. Transient members from the sprawling families frequented the public facility on the palace grounds. The new boy put his stick out and within seconds, Miandar was on the floor with the whole place laughing. Frustrated, he rebounded to teach this foreigner a lesson. Muscular Miandar outweighed the boy by double. He planned to simply crush the other. As quickly as the first incident occurred, he found himself rubbing a throbbing head. The boy took off his mask and black hair fell to the shoulders and he saw the tall princess. Everyone including the prince roared uproariously. Miandar knew she had done the same to other men, but he still felt the sting of humiliation. When Archibald Cox strode into the room, he broke up the gathering and delivered five lashes to the princess’s buttocks. Miandar remembered her walking off rubbing a sore backside and how that pleased him in an odd way.
“Hello. Is anyone home?”
Miandar jerked out of the reverie and turned his attention back to his uncle. Daydreaming was obviously an unwise practice with this audience. The accelerants he constantly used made him impatient. “Now that I see how you handle responsibility, I realize the Capet children probably saw you in a proper light, as the fools you are.”
Lord North turned to the weaker brother, “Cornelius, come forward and stand like a man. By nature’s way, I had to endure you trying to approximate one in that ridiculous video. What an abomination.” He laughed cruelly – a low personal rumble deep within the belly. A normally imposing specimen, Cornelius groveled before his uncle. “Step on brother,” Miandar uncontrollably thought. “Uncle wants that.”
With knitted brows, the older man glowered at the young Uriah lord. “How can we hold onto power with fools like you?” Not waiting for a response, Lord North added, “Rather than producing the information we vitally need, you put the princess in a medical facility. If the queen ever reviewed these videos with her daughter, your parents would be dead.”
Teramar: The Gathering Night Page 27
