The Third Craft

by James Harris

  “His body is frozen. His mind is digitally encrypted. Does he truly exist anymore?”

  “Kor is a fine example of mankind as we know it,” the king said. “He embodies all that is good. Trust that, if nothing else.”

  They turned the corner and entered the royal chambers. The bed had been turned down. The security sequence had begun. A mild security bleep indicated all was secure. Time for rest.

  In Kor’s deserted and blackened room later that night, a slight gurgling and hissing sound came from the base of the bed. A powerful chemical concoction was released and the composite bed began to dissolve. The bed covers collapsed inward. Fumes swirled upward and then burst into white-hot flames, enveloping the bed before the room’s fire extinguisher could fully engage.

  The security sweep had failed to find the cleverly hidden incendiary device. In a matter of nine seconds, the bed was reduced to cinders.

  CHAPTER30

  Amonda made her way quickly through the corridors of the darkened Abishot palace. The entire structure was still in desperate need of repair after the damage inflicted during the House Wars. The floors were covered with a fine layer of soot that had to be at least a thousand years old. There were footprints everywhere. Romanesque columns were pitted and crumbling. The walls were a dingy gray, still streaked with the singe of laser pistols fired many centuries ago. The lighting had been dimmed to conserve energy, and the air quality was poor because the biosphere had broken down repeatedly.

  She aimed toward the huge double doors of the palace conference room. She entered the chamber and sought out the Abishot queen mother. Everybody in the room turned toward her. The place was hot and smelled of sulphur. “Majesty,” Amonda said, placing her right hand over her chest.

  The queen mother was seated at a large polished-stone oval table, flanked by her most trusted advisors, most of whom were military veterans. “What news do you have concerning the Alpha moon meeting, Amonda?” she asked.

  “Your son, the prince, has agreed to command one of three Alpha Class scout spaceships. Their mission is to find a suitable destination colony for the evacuees. Prince Stell has been transitioned and will launch later today.”

  “I am aware of this. Stell and I have talked, albeit briefly.”

  “Yes, Majesty. Did he tell you that the House of Narok has agreed to make room for ten thousand of our people on a Narok starship?”

  The queen mother stiffened and squirmed slightly in her seat. Her eyes flashed red with fury. Then the red ember glow receded back to black coals just as quickly. “Yes. Stell was justifiably upset. They’re not giving us much space aboard their cruisers, are they?”

  “So it would appear, Ma’am, but they have to displace ten thousand of their own people to make room for us.”

  “They have the resources to evacuate a million, yet they find room for only ten thousand Abishot. I call that genocide.” She looked around the room, addressing the others more than Amonda, seeking consensus.

  “Perhaps it might be seen that way,” Amonda replied evenly. “However, these are the Narok’s own ships, Majesty. Might it possible for us to evacuate on our own, without the charity of the House of Narok? Do we have vessels capable of galactic travel? Any at all? Age doesn’t matter.” She looked from face to face around the table. “Well? Could we strip down a battle cruiser and convert it to a transport cruiser?”

  The council members muttered and averted their eyes. Who invited this naïve young wizard anyway? Her questions were foolish.

  The queen mother shook her head. “We have hulks of damaged cruisers. Our battle cruisers were destroyed long ago. Sargon’s atmosphere is littered with our wrecks and the bodies of our brave crews.” She glanced at one of her advisors as if to confirm what she had said. “We have about fifty short-range ships, but we use those almost daily.”

  Yes, to attack the Narok, Amonda thought. “Majesty, I have just learned that we have but five years. Do we have the resources to refurbish a long-range galactic cruiser by then? We could save hundreds of thousands.”

  An advisor at the far end of the table spoke with a nod of approval from the queen mother. “Ordinarily, the time would be sufficient,” he said. “But the war stripped us of the necessary resources to adequately refurbish even one cruiser. The machinery capable of repairing our ships was deliberately destroyed by the Narok.”

  “Then, thanks to them, we are marooned on this dying planet,” the queen mother hissed. Her glinting black eyes scoured the room for approval.

  “Her Majesty is justified in her assessment,” a spider-like man said, rising from his chair and scuttling over to stand beside the queen. “What gives the Narok the right to decide who lives and who dies? We need not cower like dogs. We have spies inside the House of Narok. We have agents sympathetic to our plight. We have teeth if we have the will to bare them.” His venom was palpable as he talked, causing some of the other delegates to shrink back into their chairs.

  The queen mother’s entourage nodded in agreement. Amonda remained silent, fearing what she might hear next. Her fears were justified.

  “I say we strike at the Narok while their attention is focused on evacuation,” the man said. “What say you others?”

  The group agreed unanimously. Amonda said nothing.

  The queen mother spoke. “Prince Stell has asked that we behave ourselves and cooperate with the Narok. He fears that if we anger the Narok, they will abandon us to die. But the truth is that they do not intend to evacuate any of us. Stell is being held captive within the palace of the Narok. He is a willing captive, having been deceived into believing that he is going to captain some scouting mission to find a new Sargon.”

  “That is what the king promised, Majesty, and he is known to keep his word,” Amonda said.

  “The king be damned. He has a soft spot for Stell and will save him by sending him on a mission. He spits on the rest of us. We will all die and Stell will be none the wiser.”

  “But I sensed no treachery,” Amonda said.

  “Oh, shut up, Amonda. Do you really think that the Narok will spare my life and the lives of the others that are seated here today?”

  Undeterred, Amonda turned and addressed the table of councilors. “Attacking the Narok gets you no closer to solving the problem of evacuation. If anything, it exacerbates the situation. You may destroy all hope of evacuation for anyone. None of us will be able to leave because there will be no evacuation ships.”

  “I thought I told you to shut up, Amonda. You are not being helpful.” The queen turned to address the table. “Is this how you pictured our last days? Cowering from the enemy and begging for a place on their ships? Well, is it?”

  The room erupted with patriotic cries, and yet an air of desperation hung over the room.

  “Majesty,” one member of the council said, “let us fight the Narok while they look the other way. They are weak and frightened.”

  The queen mother tacked away from her earlier position. “We are not strong enough,” she said.

  “Not so, Ma’am! We are warriors and conquerors. We are the last of our line. We cannot end with a whimper.”

  “You have a short memory. They defeated us not less than fifteen years ago. They stripped our resources and plundered our cities. What makes you think that we’re in any position to fight them again?”

  “They are tired of war. They will ignore any call to arms until it is too late. The taste of fighting is still bitter in their mouths.”

  Amonda turned to the queen mother. “Majesty, surely you cannot condone military action against the House of Narok? We have signed a treaty in exchange for mercy.”

  The queen mother laughed dismissively. “Treaties be damned. Anyone would sign a treaty with a gun to their head. It means nothing.”

  “Our word means nothing?”

  “Impudence!” the queen mother roared. “We have a just cause. I have been plotting my revenge every waking moment in exile. I have spent years placing loyal spies and loyalis
t rebels throughout their cities. Why do you think the liberation of Abishot went so smoothly?”

  “Your son, the prince …”

  “My son? Ha!” The queen mother’s voice echoed throughout the cavernous hall. “He had little to do with the success of the rebellion. He was the figurehead that I needed to inspire the rabble. It was I and my faithful warriors who executed it.” She nodded to the group, who mumbled their approval.

  “That may be so, but it is the prince whom the people love and respect.”

  “Love, respect? I care not for those things. This is a military monarchy, not a democracy. One rules with an iron fist. Fear is the iron grip that keeps the hordes in check.”

  “That’s not his way.”

  “I see that. The Narok have made a wimp of him. But he is a warrior born into a warrior nation. He had blood on his hands before the day he was born.”

  “He was the leader of the rebellion after he escaped from the House of Narok,” Amonda replied. “At least in the minds of the people.”

  “So it was meant to seem. We needed a young adventuresome hero and Stell fit the bill. He performed well. And why not? He believed everything he was told about the war atrocities and his father’s death as a martyr.”

  “Stell learned about the war years through your history pod, did he not?” Amonda said, circling behind the queen mother’s chair.

  “It is true. My pod contains information not found elsewhere. State secrets and such.”

  “How much is based on truth and how much on hatred?”

  One of the council sprang to his feet. “How dare you address the queen mother in such a manner?”

  “Amonda, I realize that you are loyal to Stell and have dedicated your life as counsel to him. I forgive your outburst. But do not accuse me of distorting history. That did not happen. All that he learned from the pod was the truth.”

  “Majesty, with due respect, I visited the pod and scanned the information. There were omissions and gross distortions.”

  “Nonsense,” the queen mother huffed. She turned her head to and fro in an effort to see Amonda, who stood behind her. “Stell was told what he needed to know. He needed to understand the true nature of the evil of the House of Narok.”

  “The pod did not represent a fair history of events.”

  “How would you know, you didn’t live through them, I did. My dear, life isn’t fair. Life is opportunistic.” The queen sniffed, tired of the game. “Leave us. I have work to do.”

  Amonda turned, touched her chest in a salute, and walked toward the grimy door. She could feel the heat of all eyes on her. She would have to be extra wary from now on. These people had never trusted her, and now they had proof that she was not one of their blind followers. She could be troublesome for them. Stell, a valuable ally, was on his way into space. There was no way he could use his office to protect her against the council’s wrath. If the queen mother felt that Amonda was in the way, she would have no qualms about punishing her. Amonda suddenly felt very much alone.

  CHAPTER31

  The reign of violence began with a volley of coordinated attacks.

  Surrounding the palace of the House of Narok were five cities, each with its own direct tunnel to the surface and to the palace, forming a circle with five spokes. Each city had its own independent biosphere and protective shield infrastructure, as well as other tunnels that linked each to the other cities and to the surface.

  One of the five cities, Able, was already damaged beyond repair. A few survivors were trapped within the city. All three of its tunnels were closed as a result of the attacks. The tunnels were stacked high with the bodies of those who had tried to escape. The radiation shields were functioning only minimally, and radiation levels were too high for most to survive the trek out of the city toward the undamaged portion of the tunnels.

  A few had made it out – those who possessed the Gift. Some with even a small Gift had managed to shield themselves and reach safety. They fled to other cities. They fled to the palace. The resources of all the cities were dangerously low. The palace took in more refugees than it should have and its resources were also growing scarce.

  The second and third Abishot attacks took everyone by surprise. Beta and Seta City were hit hard. Insurgents let the rebels into the cities from the inside. Explosives were detonated in the arterial tunnels that connected Beta and Seta with the palace and surrounding cities. The two cities were left isolated. Most rebels sacrificed their lives and died along with the residents. It was their conditioning to do so. Their will was the will of the state and their glory was recognition. Uneducated and desperately poor, they had been conditioned since birth to sacrifice their lives for the House of Abishot.

  The palace of the House of Abishot celebrated its victory over the three Narok cities. There was much festivity in the streets, though it was mostly contrived by the Abishot Ministry of Propaganda. The people were celebrating what they were being told to celebrate. The war was justified in the minds of many Abishot to avenge the sacking of Abishot’s cities and the killing of their people many years before.

  The media encouraged the celebrations, claiming that valuable resources had been recovered from the attacked Narok cities. No such spoils were ever seen by the populace, however.

  There was no real victory. There was no battle, no military triumph. There was only the slaughter of innocent civilians with remote explosives and suicide bombs. There was no glory in these acts of cowardice against a civilian population. But many Abishot were beyond caring.

  There was no successful looting of the Narok cities. Little water or food was recovered. No resources were captured, just a few meager possessions. It was merely destruction for destruction’s sake and a tragic waste of human life.

  In the dim palace conference chamber, the queen and her council sat glumly around the table. The raids on the Narok cities had not gone as planned. The resources promised by the spies inside the cities had been grossly exaggerated. The queen mother and her advisors sat in silence. The distant drone of the street celebrations across the city was barely audible. Only the council knew the extent of the barbarism that had taken place. But inwardly even they recognized the futility of their actions. The people they had robbed and murdered were, for the most part, no better off than they were. Cities everywhere were desperate for water and food. Even worse, the damage caused by the overzealous Abishot raiders had recklessly destroyed valuable water treatment plants and radiation shield machines.

  Asunda stood stoically at the king’s side, staring at a large video monitor. There was a live feed coming from the stricken cities. The king’s lips trembled. Tears flowed freely down his translucent-white cheeks. “We can’t save them, can we, Asunda?”

  “No, Sire. They are already as good as dead from the exposure to the radiation – they just don’t know it.”

  The monitor gave the pair split images of stumbling hordes of injured people streaming through the smoking streets of Beta City. The moans of agony were enough to sear the brain.

  “You are sure that the council of Abishot is behind this?”

  “I have impeccable sources, Majesty. The extremist faction that carried out the raids is sponsored by the council. The council is led by the queen mother.”

  “What madness! I gave that woman safety in exile. I spared her life, and this is how she repays me? You show mercy and it is used as a weapon against you.”

  “She is mad, of course. She’s the spawn of generations of hate propaganda. Their vitriol is passed on like some chalice of honor.”

  “There’s no honor in this slaughter. I see only waste and human degradation.”

  “Sire, it can only be an act of desperation – their way of saying, ‘If we can’t live, then neither will you.’”

  “She must be stopped, Asunda, or none of us will leave this planet alive.”

  Before Asunda could respond, a security monitor popped open in front of them. The captain of the palace guard appeared and spoke urg
ently. “Majesty, Master Asunda, we engaged some spies inside the palace biosphere. They were attempting to sabotage the palace life support system.”

  “Where are they now?”

  “They are dead, Majesty. They took their own lives. However, we did manage to interrogate one rebel briefly before he died.”

  “Did you determine who was behind this attack?”

  “Yes, Sire, it was the House of Abishot.”

  “We know that. But who specifically ordered the attack? Was it the queen mother herself?”

  “It appears so, Sire. The council gave direct orders for the attacks.”

  “Asunda and I are safe here. Ensure my wife’s safety.”

  “That has already been done, Sire. Her Majesty is in a safe place with her CPDs. They are under a security shield. So are you and Master Asunda.”

  The king nodded his dismissal, and the monitor went dead. “Asunda, we must rid ourselves of this vile menace before she gets rid of us.” He pounded his fist into the palm of his hand. “Doesn’t she realize the very future of our species is at stake?”

  Asunda’s eyes bulged. “What are you asking of me, Sire? I’m no assassin.”

  “You are to arrange for the queen and that putrid council to be eliminated before there is more bloodshed. We know it is she and her councilors who are obsessed with destroying this House. It comes down to them or us. We must cut off the head of the snake.”

  “Sire, you of all people know that, as a wizard, I cannot be involved in the taking of life.”

  “Now listen to me. I am the king, and your supreme commander. Enough of this nonsense. We must press on. We must preserve the realm. Good God! We must preserve the species. Asunda, whom do you serve?”

  Asunda’s skin was crawling. “Sire, you must find someone else.” He turned his back on the king.

  “Only you have the means of penetrating Abishot’s security,” the king said.

  “I cannot. I am a wizard. I am dedicated to the sanctity of life. I beg you, do not ask this of me. Do not force me to refuse you.”