by Anthea Sharp
“Very good,” Lady Danville said, then turned to her daughter. “Kate, you must remember to smile. And don’t, I pray, speak overmuch. The queen has far more important matters to attend to than listening to you drone on about telescopes.”
Kate swallowed past the dryness in her throat.
“Yes, mother,” she said.
In truth, she could not offer the queen any better insight than the astronomers. Despite watching the approaching object every night, she had gleaned no particular truths or insights from it—other than it appeared to be headed on a direct trajectory toward London, and approaching rapidly.
An officious-looking fellow wearing the palace livery and an ornate medallion about his neck, strutted up to them.
“Miss Danville, the queen will speak with you now.”
Kate smoothed the pink flounces on her skirt and tried to calm her sudden surge of nerves.
“Well, come along,” her mother said. “We mustn’t keep her majesty waiting.”
The steward turned a cold eye on Lady Danville. “You may remain here, madam. The queen wishes to converse with your daughter, not you.”
Lady Danville’s mouth hung open for a moment. She snapped it shut, a flush creeping up from her neck.
“Very well,” she said with a sniff. “Kate, pray endeavor not to embarrass the family name.”
There was really no response Kate could make to that. She gave her mother a tight smile, then let the steward usher her through the room. Whispers followed in their wake, a buzz of gossip hovering like gnats about her head. As they passed the knot of astronomers, Lord Wrottesley gave her an encouraging nod, while Viscount Huffton looked bitter.
“Miss Kate Danville,” the steward announced when they were before the thrones.
Kate bowed her head and dipped into her best curtsey, her heart pounding so loudly she feared the queen could hear it.
“Rise,” Queen Victoria said, beckoning her to approach. “Welcome to court, Miss Danville. I understand you were the first to spot the object now approaching London.?”
“Yes, your majesty.” With force of will, Kate kept her fingers from knotting desperately together.
Prince Albert gave her a sharp look. “Indeed. Do tell us more. Do you have any idea what it is?”
“I’m simply an amateur astronomer, your highness. I don’t—”
“Your majesty!” A guard burst into the room and ran up to the thrones, halting a few paces away to make a breathless bow.
“Yes?” the queen asked, her tone unbelievably calm.
“The thing in the sky, it’s stopped. And, and…” He gulped for breath.
“Out with it, man,” the price snapped.
“Something has detached from it, and is approaching through the sky.”
A buzz of speculation moved through the room, edged with panic. Kate bit her lip.
“Approaching through the sky, you say?” The queen rose, her skirts rustling. “Well then. We had best repair to the palace gardens to better view whatever is transpiring.”
“My dear.” The prince caught her arm. “Do you think it’s safe?”
Queen Victoria gave him a quelling look. “I am Queen of England, Princess of Hanover, Empress of India and supreme monarch of the British Empire. I shall not cower inside while great events unfold at my doorstep. And if we are all to perish, let it be said that we went forth to meet our fate bravely.”
“Of course.” Price Albert gave her a faint smile. “Lead on, my lady.”
The queen, the prince, and their guards swept forward. Half of the court went with them, including the astronomers, while the rest clearly did not want to risk setting foot outside the dubious safety of the palace.
Kate followed close behind, her pulse racing with fear and anticipation. Something was finally happening, and she, Miss Kate Danville, was about to witness a great event in history.
As they traversed the hallways and formal rooms of Buckingham Palace, Kate did not try to locate her mother in the throng. Lady Danville could hang safely back, or attempt to return home, but Kate resolved to remain as close to the center of events as possible.
Even though it might prove her doom.
Yet the fact that something was approaching—something smaller than the glowing sphere that filled the sky—suggested it was guided by intelligent entities. Perhaps it was simliar to a tender boat being launched out from a great galleon.
What a frightening thought! If that were the case, she could only hope these visitors from the stars were as benign and enlightened as the British explorers who landed upon heathen islands, bringing civilization and enlightenment to the poor natives on faraway shores.
Following that reasoning, then, if there truly were beings from beyond the stars, humans would be the ignorant savages. Kate gave a sharp shake of her head. She did not like that notion one bit.
At last they reached several pairs of French doors leading out to the terraces behind the palace. Outside, the sunshine was overlaid with silver, making the grass and shrubbery appear metallic.
The guards opened a set of doors, then preceded the queen and prince outside. Shading their eyes, they peered upward.
“Good gad,” one of the redcoats exclaimed. “It appears to be heading directly for us.”
The remainder of the court poured out onto the terrace. The air was filled with a deep, nearly inaudible hum. The light struck Kate like a blow, and she blinked against the brilliance. One of the queen’s ladies in waiting handed the monarch a parasol, and a few others sprouted above the throng like colorful mushrooms after a rain.
Lacking that apparatus, Kate cupped her hands around her eyes and squinted into the sky. Good heavens! And rather literally, at that.
The shining sphere hung over London, so bright she could not look at it for long. From the sphere, a dark ribbon descended—a plume of smoke left by a smaller orb. That object was most decidedly coming closer.
Was it a weapon, aimed at the heart of the Empire?
“Your majesty,” the captain of the guard urged, “please, return inside.”
“I will not be any safer within the walls than without,” Queen Victoria replied. “Whatever is approaching, we must meet it with fortitude.”
Already, the orb was much closer. Kate estimated it would land in the garden in no less than two minutes. As it approached the noise grew to a loud rumble.
The soldiers lifted their guns and trained them on the dark blot descending from the sky. Closer. Closer, until it was the size of a small outbuilding. It brushed past a few trees on the outskirts of the garden, and their branches snapped off and tumbled to the ground.
The air shook with a deep, mechanical roar. The surface of the man-made lake nearby shivered violently. Kate clapped her hands over her ears, watching as the object slowed to nearly a hover.
With excruciating delicacy, it landed on the manicured lawn of Buckingham Palace. The blades of grass beneath it wilted and sizzled. The orb seemed made of metal, yet no light sheened off the surface, and it had no discernible seams or rivets.
The noise cut off, and for a moment Kate wondered if she’d gone deaf. Perspiration stuck her dress to her chest, and she plucked at the fabric. Then the shouts of approaching soldiers punctuated the air as they poured into the garden and surrounded the black hulk of the orb, raising their guns.
“Hold your fire,” the queen commanded, sweeping out one gloved hand.
The soldiers shifted, but remained at the ready.
Noiselessly, the orb split in the front to reveal an elongated oval opening. Something stirred inside. The crowd leaned forward, fearfully fascinated, like a rodent before the sway of a cobra.
Faint movement—and then a creature floated out. It was not human, although it had two long appendages on either side that might be termed arms, and a head on top of its torso, surrounded by a clear bubble. Two flat, black eyes, turned on the crowd. Below those eyes, the creature had a slit for a nose, and a mouth full of writhing tentacles.
Bile rose in Kate’s throat at the sight, and she swayed. A nearby lady screamed and fainted, eased to the ground by her companion. No one else bestirred themselves to help—they were all transfixed by the dreadful sight hovering before them.
One of the soldiers yelled and discharged his musket. Kate flinched at the sound, half hoping the bullet hit its mark, the other half knowing they were all doomed.
The creature turned its head, and the soldier slumped to the ground. It was impossible to tell if he were dead, or merely stunned.
“Halt!” Queen Victoria cried, her voice finally taut with fear. “Do not shoot.”
“But, your majesty—” the captain of the guard began.
“No. We shall wait, and greet this creature as civilized beings, not vicious animals.” The queen took a single step forward. Her grip on her parasol seemed inordinately tight.
The thing turned toward Queen Victoria, and Prince Albert caught her elbow.
“Greetings,” the queen called. “We mean you no harm.”
“Yet,” a nearby lord muttered. “I think we’re better off shooting the damned thing.”
His wife hushed him, and Kate could not decide if she agreed with the man or not. Part of her could not believe this was happening—that the glint of light she had first spotted two weeks ago had brought a being from the stars to land here, in the heart of London. Such things simply did not happen.
And yet, the dark orb sat implacably on the greensward, and its occupant was even now gliding toward the terrace.
Kate sucked back a breath and resisted the urge to bolt for the French doors and cower beneath a table. Instead she clenched her hands and watched. The creature stopped a safe distance from the queen. Perhaps it understood the tightening of soldiers’ fingers on their guns, or recognized the acrid smell of human fear.
A crackling sound filled the air, and then a voice. Inhuman, certainly, with odd inflections and staggered pauses, but the words it spoke were recognizable.
“These…beings wish no harm is speaking…to ruler of earth.”
There was a pause, and Kate wondered if the last bit had been meant as a question. The queen seemed to draw the same conclusion.
“Indeed,” the queen said. “I am Queen Victoria, ruler of the British Empire. Who are you?”
“We are…eeixlltiey.” The final word was a garble of sound. Likely there was no match for it in the English language.
The creature’s tentacled mouth did not move, and the voice seemed to emanate more from the orb it had arrived in than from the alien figure. Still, there was no doubt it was communicating directly with them.
“Welcome to earth, Yxleti,” the queen said, making a valiant attempt to pronounce the name. “Tell us, why have you come?”
“To observe…explore…assess…”
A bead of sweat ran down the side of Kate’s neck, and she wiped it away. She did not much like the idea of being “assessed” by inhuman creatures from the stars. But they had devised a way to communicate in English, and clearly been wise enough to come directly to the queen of the largest empire on earth.
The prince leaned over and whispered something in Queen Victoria’s ear. She nodded, then turned to her captain of the guard.
“I believe our further dealings with the Yxleti are best done more privately,” she said, in a carrying voice. “Your guards may remain, of course, and my attendents, but please disperse the onlookers.”
The group of Royal Society astronomers protested, as did a few self-important lords. The rest of the crowd began to edge back toward the palace. No one quite turned their backs on the creature, or the strange conveyance in which it had arrived.
Kate was torn. Part of her wished nothing more than to find her mother and flee the bizarre spectacle. She craved a hot bath, and the opportunity to forget for as long as possible the proceedings of the afternoon.
Yet a larger part was aquiver with possibility. Their world had changed, of that there could be no question. She had been witness to what could only be the most extraordinary event in human history. She could meekly turn away and return to the path her parents and Society had laid out, or she could seize the opportunity before her. This was her chance.
Lifting her skirts, Kate strode past the astronomers, taking some small satisfaction from treading upon Viscount Huffton’s foot.
“Your majesty.” She made the queen another curtsey. “I beg your leave to remain. As discoverer of the vessel that bore this star explorer hither, I will pledge my life to your service, to the Empire, and to forwarding the understanding between humans and Yxleti. Please, let me stay.”
The queen regarded her a long moment from her cool brown eyes, and Kate fought to keep her legs from trembling. She must be confident and bold in this moment.
“Miss Kate Danville,” the queen said, “are you betrothed?”
“No, your majesty.” Despite her mother’s best efforts. “I am wholly committed to this endeavor, if you will accept me.”
“Your majesty,” Lord Wrottesley approached the queen. “If I may speak?”
The queen nodded, and the astronomer continued. “I happen to know that this is a young lady of great fortitude and determination. You might do well to take her.”
Queen Victoria inclined her head. “Very good. We consent to add you to our staff—for the time being. You may remain here.”
Kate shot a grateful look at Lord Wrottesley. She did not care if he had put in a word for her simply to spite Viscount Huffton, or if he truly believed she had the mettle to be of service. In either case, she vowed to be worthy.
In moments only a small retinue surrounding the queen remained, including the astronomers and her guardsmen. The Yxleti had stayed silent, impassively floating a few handspans above the ground as the humans reorganized themselves.
Kate glanced at the flat black eyes and suppressed a shiver at the sight of its tentacle-fringed mouth. It might be a horrible-looking creature, but so far its purposes had not seemed inimical, and it was clearly possessed of an intelligence equal to their own.
“Are you the only one of your kind who has come?” the queen asked it.
“More await…in vessel…this emissary.”
The captain of the guard stirred at this news, and the prince sent him a quelling look. It had been wise of the creatures to send a single ambassador, and Kate was further convinced the Yxleti had arrived with peaceful intentions.
“You are welcome here at the palace,” Queen Victoria said. “What might we do to further relations between your kind and ours?”
“Stable rule must first be…many queens.”
Queen Victoria glanced at her husband, then back to the creature.
“Do you mean our children?” Her voice was chilly.
“Not…it is Victoria Regina…reign again.”
The queen’s brow furrowed, and Kate understood her confusion. How could the queen reign again? She was already the monarch.
“I think, though it is simply a guess, that they mean to replicate you in some fashion,” Prince Albert said in a low voice.
Kate blinked at the notion. It seemed unbelievable—but who knew what the Yxleti were capable of? After all, they journeyed between the stars. Perhaps creating a new Queen Victoria was a simple matter for them.
“Is this true?” the queen asked the Yxleti hovering a few paces before her. “You mean to re-create my very essence? It seems most ungodly.”
“Each queen sleeps until reign is ended…then wakes and is self… at moment of preserve. Best… for peaceful humans always.”
Queen Victoria took a step back, her mouth twisting in distaste. “I cannot countenance such a perversion.”
“Then… Napoleon three will select to rule…if you decline. Humans must have single ruler.”
“Bloody hell,” the captain of the guard muttered. “The damnable creature’s blackmailing you, your majesty.”
“Of course it is.” The queen’s eyes narrowed. “But what choice do
we have? We cannot let the French rise to ascendency.”
“I have little doubt Bonaparte’s nephew will leap at the chance,” Prince Albert said. “Much as it might go against the laws of nature, my dear, you must accept the Yxleti’s offer, or the world will end up under the thumb of a petty dictator rather than your beneficent and enlightened reign.”
The queen drew in a breath through her nose, and Kate leaned forward, her chest tight. Of course her majesty would do what was best for the Empire, but what a difficult choice.
“Very well,” Queen Victoria said. “We will do this thing—under three conditions.”
“Tell,” the Yxleti said.
“The first, that we be allowed to continue to reign as we see fit, without Yxleti intervention.”
“Is already plan,” the crackling voice said.
Kate regarded the creature. Of course it would make promises, but who knew if it would actually keep them?
“The second,” the queen said, “is that our beloved husband also be subject to this process, so that we might have him at our side during every reign.” She threaded her arm through Prince Albert’s and gave him a look filled with emotion. “Will you consent to this, my dear?”
He covered her hand with his own. “I do. My place is at your side, your majesty. Year after year, to time immemorial.”
The Yxleti remained motionless, but the still air was interrupted by a brief hum. After a moment, the creature turned its head toward the orb.
The crackling voice rang out. “Agreed…what is third ask.”
“That you share with us the means by which you travel and explore the celestial sea. We, too, harbor the desire to set out in search of worlds unknown, and to bring the Empire to every corner of the stars. Will you aid us in doing so?”
This time there was no hesitation.
“Is intent,” the Yxleti said. “In starset we come…procure duplicates of queen.”
It turned and glided back to its vessel, clearly signaling that the meeting was at an end. The queen did not call after it, though her face was still filled with questions. As soon as the Yxleti entered, the oval doorway sealed shut. The now-familiar humming suffused the air, and slowly the dark orb rose.
