by K R Sanford
“Hey Hector, he asked you permission to dance with me. Don’t you think that’s romantic?”
“Yep, I do,” said Hector. “You know, he’s as tall as Grantham.”
Mary-Beth thought for a moment. “Grantham is seven feet tall. How tall are you?
“I’m six feet three inches,” replied Hector. “And you are five feet six?”
“On a good day, yeah,” she said. “With the heels I’m planning for tonight I will be five nine.”
“Your dancing shoes?” replied Hector. “Let’s head back inside so you can change and I can make some adjustments.”
“Okay,” she said. “We can go back in through the front.”
The castle was abuzz with Amedans. They raced around the roof tops playing tag. They were flying in wedge formation up and down Castle Road then over to Shrine Road. They were side by side with their orbs on bright. They flew head height through downtown. They flew two abreast in column formation in front of the shops on Village Main.
“The castle is buzzing with the Amedans tonight,” said Gonquin.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many Amedans downtown,” said Simiquin.
“How many do you estimate are downtown this evening?” asked a deep baritone voice.
Both Gonquin and Simiquin turned on their heels. Their faces were in shock. Gonquin flushed as white as his hair. Simiquin’s mouth fell open. “Your voice, Sir, do we know you?”
“Yes,” he said with a slight bow. He extended his hand to Gonquin. “It’s me, Gonquin, Legion, free from the sphere and on my own two feet.”
“Those are nice shoes, Emperor,” said Simiquin. “Can you still fly by the levitation?”
“Oh sure, do you want to see?” said the Emperor.
“Show me how I can fly, My Lord,” replied Simiquin.
“One day, I will make it possible for both of you to fly,” he said. “I must go now. I have others to see before the dance. Will you be there? I hope you will, I want to make an announcement that you will like to hear.”
“In that case, My Lord, we will both be there,” said Gonquin.
The Emperor nodded then walked off the patio. He headed for the carriage house at the end of game field. The grass along the edges of the jousting track smelled of rich farm land dirt. Moist leaves and the droppings of horse manure mingled with the stale aroma of mountain ale. The combination of odors on the track struck the Emperor with a sense of peace.
The sounds in the village got muffled in the surrounding forest. Tropical gardens sprawled throughout the castle grounds. Looking to the stars above, the Emperor quickened in his determination for what, only he knew. His pace increased and in a brief moment of concentration he crossed the track and the game field. He stood at the double doors leading into the carriage house. The sounds of the Marillians inside hushed. His presence at the doors distracted the horses. He knocked and in the most pleasant voice he could find, he called out, “Hello in the barn.”
“Door’s open,” said a friendly Marillian voice. Legion smiled and pushed open the barn door. The bronze faces of two dozen subterranean creatures stared in wonder and amazement. “My Lord, take whatever form you please. I would recognize your presence anywhere,” said Grantham.
“Dear Grantham,” replied the Emperor. “I’m not intruding?”
“No, My Lord,” said Grantham. “We were about to walk over to the castle for the dinner. You will honor us with your company, I trust?”
“How could I refuse, Governor? Of course I will.” replied the Emperor.
The lights in the carriage house faded. As two dozen Marillians fanned out in wedge formation they protected the center. Emperor Legion and Governor Grantham had male and female alike on their flanks. They marched in hushed voices straight across the game field. They cut sharp to the front of Shrine Castle. “Are you a type four being?” asked Grantham.
“Yes,” replied Legion. “I am able to shape shift. I can enter interdimensional spacetime. I am able to harness the energy output of the known multiverse. There is much at stake out there.”
“As I have said before, we are with you all the way,” replied Grantham.
“This is comforting. To hear you say this, reminds me of the quote by P.T. Barum. Fortune always favors the brave, and never helps those who do not help themselves. Grantham, no one will ever help secure our universe except ourselves. We are all in this adventure together. Do you agree?”
Grantham straightened himself to his full seven foot height and replied. “When do we get our orders?”
“Soon, my dear friend, make the final preparations,” said the Emperor. “Let’s go inside now and enjoy the dance.”
The Marillians formed a procession. One by one they greeted the Emperor. Through the double doors of the castle they stopped again to sign the guest book.
He got observed by the curious eye of Tildanfin. The Emperor passed his hand over the guest book leaving the script of: Emperor Legion, Lord of the Many. After that, they got escorted to their appointed table.
Tildanfin’s hand began to shake. His mind became a fog. He felt he could speak but for some odd reason he did not wish to risk stammering.
“Take slow deep breaths, Tilly,” replied the Emperor. “We have an impressive gathering here this evening. I wonder if most in this ballroom feel a bit nervous, I know I am.”
“You, My Lord?” replied Tildanfin.
“I count on it,” said Legion. “Like when you count the fuel you need to keep the home fires burning. Do you count on what fuel you need to keep the Village Inn warm through the winter?”
“Yes, with extra for neighbors,” replied Tildanfin.
“I can imagine an inn keeper might check the fuel supply daily when the cold is harsh,” continued the Emperor.
“Yes, that’s right,” replied Tildanfin.
“Did you practice your dance step for this evening?” said the Emperor with a curl of his lip and a twinkle in his blue eyes.
Tildanfin smiling said, “Saralil and I took a turn around the great hall to make sure we remembered how.”
“And did you, remember?” he asked.
“We did alright, for a couple of old folks,” replied Tildanfin.
“You’re not old, Tilly. I ask because I’m going to dance tonight myself,” said Legion. “Feeling the strength of our muscles in the expression of dance is something we can take for granted. That is if we are not mindful of the enjoyment.”
“I very much agree,” said Tildanfin. “Saralil got thrilled. I can’t remember when she was having so much fun spinning and twirling.”
The Emperor flushed with joy at hearing Tildanfin tell of his wife’s delight. He broke out in laughter then at long last, he replied. “That is a fine thing, Tilly. Thank You.”
“Speaking of a fine thing,” said Tildanfin. “Please join us at table. We would be so honored, My Lord.”
“The honor; is all mine, Tilly, if you would care to lead the way.”
The din of the dining hall moved in waves. The first sounds of the guests broke the air in hard sporadic claps. It was like ice breaking during the spring thaw. Then, the voices at table hushed and heaved like breakers rolling on Emerald Sea. So much was the ebb and flow of the din that Marco had to speak as if tossing a balloon for the guests. “Do you ever notice how the sound of the voices in the dining hall rise and fall in waves?”
“They come in swells and yawns,” said Chris. “Nature lets us organize ourselves in a wave function.”
“Yes, yes, that’s right. Anything that has energy will self-organize because of attraction,” said Marco. “What is that called? There’s a name for that.”
“For Environmental Services there is an area of study referred to as, crowd dynamics. We encountered this on the Eagle as the collective organizational scenario. We saw this when they boarded the survivors from the Island Planet.”
“Fascinating,” said Marco. “Group behavior and architecture are affecting efficiency on different plane
s of crew interaction.”
“Very much so,” replied Chris
“This is interesting on many levels, such as now, in the way the Amedans are flying a pattern to search out a threat,” he said.
“Yes, I have been watching their movements,” said Chris
Hector cleared his throat, “This is routine, considering the dignitaries here with us. I'm sure the Amedans have activated the StarNet Shield. They have been working on it for fifteen years now.”
“No doubt it is complete,” said Marco in a tone of finality.
“I would very much like to talk more about this crowd dynamics on the Eagle. You might bring over some scalable simulations for comparing environments, said Marco.
Chris nodded but said nothing, holding Marco’s gaze in the strictest of confidence. She let go and stabbed a brussel sprout with her fork.
Colonel Stiller said, “How does music fit in with environmental style?
“See how complex things get when talking about art, or ambience,” said Chris.
“I’m not trying to be complex. The music is about to start,” replied Colonel Stiller, provoking smiles and chuckles.
King Devin made his way to the stage. When the orchestra finished the dining serenade, he waited alongside the podium. He cleared his throat. He started to speak but no sound followed. The audience shifted in their seats. The dining hall, filled to capacity of a thousand guests and staff, now fell silent.
“Did you get enough to eat?” he said as last. “I know I did. As a matter of fact, I’m fed up. Don’t get me wrong, I’m okay today but last week, let me tell you, I was a mess. Yeah, no kidding; with the Festival coming; I couldn’t find the right pants, the right shirt to wear. I couldn’t even find my own room. I was trying different doors, and you know how many doors there are around here. I walked in on Shanna and Pawdell three times. And, let me tell you, each time I walked in on these two, it was on different floors. These kids get around, you know. It was all I could do to stumble out of there, but I caught my footing and here I am. Shanna, Pawdell stand up and take a bow. There they are, the little darlings. So, the moral of the story is: lock your door, because I’m not very smart and I could be walking in on you at any moment. Thank you everyone. Welcome to the Ten Thousand Eleventh Annual Festival of the Shrine Dinner and Dance. Give yourselves applause, folks.”
The crowd was on their feet whooping and clapping and howling. Devin was waving at someone in the audience to come up and join him on stage. He was beckoning to a tall blonde-haired man in an immaculate white suit. He clasped the man’s hand and reached up and held him firm at the shoulder. He said a few words and left the tall figure standing on stage by himself. The man walked to the podium. He turned facing the audience holding his breath then said, “How do you follow that?”
The audience applauded. “Please,” he said, motioning with out-stretched hands, as if he was calming the Emerald Sea. “Thank you, you are very kind,” he continued. “For those of you whom I have not met, my name is Legion. And for those of you whom I have met, I’m still, Emperor of the Milky Way Galaxy. And, yes, I am wearing a new suit,” he continued with a smile. “I would like to recognize the couples here tonight. Finding a partner for the annual celebration dance is not easy. For those who are shy, don’t be. It’s the bold who get favored with reward. Male or female, chose a partner and take part. Above all, enjoy yourselves, please.
Some of you will get tapped for a mission of great risk and of great need. With progress comes value. Ameda is that value. She is worth protecting. Our new project is beyond the scope of our now completed and tested StarNet. It is an honor to serve as your representative to the future. If you please, there will be time to answer your questions in the days to follow. Now, let’s get back to the Annual Festival of the Shrine. Maestro, take it away, if you please.” He presented his introduction in the polished theatrics of a master.
“Thank you, My Lord,” said the conductor. “This tune written by the great Benny Goodman – Sing Sing Sing, goes like this. I hope you like it.” The music began.
The Amedans joined in. From the upper dormers, from the hallways they flew. Into the celebrations they invaded as if out of nowhere. They picked up the beat and circled overhead. They spun in tandem figure eights. One by one they joined the high flying spectacle. They moved in and out and around radiating blue crystal light at blinding speed. The rhythm of Benny Goodman swung the bottom half of the figure eight. The Amedan figure eight sashayed from one side of the hall to the other. They moved their image like the wild unabashed hips of a teenage flapper.
“How do they do that?” said Chris.
“I don’t know,” said Marty grabbing her hand and jerking her onto the dance floor.
The King and Queen mesmerized by the performance sat fixated at their table. Elsinor leaning into Devin said. “This is an aggressive number. Look how the place has come to life.”
“Life!” said the King springing to his feet, “I’ll show-you-life! Come on girl, let’s give it a whirl.” Devin took Elsinor from the table spinning and swinging blind. He cut through the couples as if all part of the master plan.
“Oh, dear, we almost got another one,” said Elsinor.
“Fret not, my love,” replied Devin, wearing a smile that could light up a dark moon. “They’ll get out of the way.”
Hector burst out laughing. “That’s our cue Mary-Beth, time to cut a rug.” Hector had Mary-Beth swinging to the sound of the big band horns. Mary-Beth moved with abandon to the battle of the Marillian’s dueling drummers.
The Emperor was standing next to Grantham. In an instant, he was alone watching the Amedan Governor and Clorissa race off onto the dance floor. They disappear in the chaotic mix. He looked around to see everyone occupied.
The Amedans, now covering the full length of the ceiling numbered into the hundreds. The overhead play was in four dimensions. Each Amedan looked like shape shifting pieces synthesized with the orchestra’s number. It was like looking at an MRI of neon ping pong balls. Ping pong balls who were dancing in and out of half silvered windows. Complementing the orchestration they performed a kaleidoscope of fractals in full crystal spectrums.
Legion looked to the side walls of the hall. Finally, noticing Gretel, Saralil’s sister, he walked over and said, “Gretel, hello. I wanted to thank you for making this beautiful suit. It feels so much like someone gave it a very caring hand. Thank you.”
Gretel blushing said, “Oh don’t be silly. I enjoy my work. This is compliment enough, My Lord.”
“I know, Gretel,” replied the Emperor. “Would you care to dance?”
Gretel giggled, “Oh fine, yeah.” She said holding out her hand.
The Emperor took her hand with a bow and led her into the mix on the marble floor.
Commander Majors and Captain Clairy were making the rounds to view the wall flowers when, “What’s this?” said Commander Majors, “Captain Jim Walters and Ensign Margaret Chew. How do you do?” he said, giving Clairy a wink of his eye.
Clairy chimed in, “You star trekkers not dancing?”
“Yeah, we’re leaving right now,” said Walters, grabbing Ensign Chew and dashing onto the floor.
“Do you see what I see?” said Ryan.
“I sure do. And, none too soon,” replied Clairy.
“Ladies, would you do us the honor?” said Ryan.
“Just in time for the next dance,” said one of the ladies.
“Well, this young Captain, is Tomas Clairy and I’m Ryan Majors,” he said.
“We know who you are,” she said with a playful smile. “Would you care to dance?”
“I would,” he said seeing Clairy distracted by something outside the window. “Is everything accounted for, Tomas?”
“Oh yes, sorry, except for him.” Clairy pointed with his chin to the patio outside the window.
Ryan had to squint to see Vito in the shadows. He was wearing a tuxedo with a white bow tie and gold studs. He leaned into a Vallian tra
veler. The Vallian, with tattered backpack and layered clothes was delivering a message. Vito stopped the traveler several times to ask questions. He insisted how the information got verified. Vito’s interrogation was wearing on the traveler. The traveler exhausted, did not leave Vito’s side until he understood every point of fact. At length, Vito thanked the traveler. They left in opposite directions. The patio was now empty, save for the eyes of the Amedans, seeing everything.
Chapter 8
__________________________________________
THE LIGHTNING ROD
It was Thunder ‘N and Thunder ‘N an’ Lightnin’
You know this Day this Pore Boy was Born
I Ain’t Never Known Nothin but Your Trouble
You Know Your Trouble an’ Your Hate an’ Scorn
You Know My Daddy Lord He Died in a Train Wreak
Yeah Hey My Momma She was Born to Lose
You Know My Middle Name is Natural Born Trouble
An’ My Last Name It is the Blues, Oh Yeah
An’ My Last Name It is the Blues
Hoyt Axton – Thunder ‘N Lightnin’ 1963
The Mastodon was a cold, cold ship. Everything on it meant to hurt. This was a ship for the business of war. It was a ship built for death. It instilled in the crew a mean temper, the same inner temper as a predatory animal. On the surface, things were different. And that suited the two seated at the helm just fine. Both used pain and suffering as sacrifice. As most onboard who got tapped for the mission.
“I knew the festival and the dance was too good to be true,” said Vito. “Like the last meal for a condemned man’s soul.”
“Oh for crying out loud, are you going to start that drama again?” said the Emperor. “Why are you still in that tuxedo?”
“Because, I like it.” said Vito in a tone of irreverence.
The Emperor started to laugh. “Because, I like it,” he mocked. “That’s beautiful. Well, Kiterage has the coordinates to the temple. He could use it to deliver a crippling setback. Our safety is being threatened, our information is being accessed and he wants to go to war. Only this time it is not a game. Find Kiterage and summon Clairy to the helm at once.”
