The Noble Prince (The Empire of the North)

by Brendan DuBois

  Back into the open leather case he went. Hinderline pulled out a clear small envelope, and in the envelope, was the coin of Father Abram.

  “This,” Hinderline said, holding it up. “You had this in your possession. Do tell me where you got it, and why you’re carrying it.”

  Armand’s heart was thumping hard, looking at the angry eyes of the Major, knowing what he said in the next few seconds would mean everything, everything for he and Melinda.

  With all the water and soup Armand had consumed, he still found it hard to form the words. He cleared his throat and carefully said, “I carry that coin in honor of one of the greatest leaders your lands has ever known. A leader who freed the slaves.”

  Hinderline’s face was impassive. “Go on. Where did you get this coin?”

  Armand kept his voice as level as possible, even though he could feel his knees starting to tremble. “I got that coin on a trip I made in the east, just over a year ago, to your capitol. The coin was given to me for services rendered to the capitol.”

  Hinderline’s face changed, his eyes weren’t so angry, and he leaned in his chair, voice excited. “You’ve… you’ve been there? To Dee Cee? You have?”

  Armand tried not to sound confused. “Well, yes. But I heard it called by another name.”

  Hinderline raised a hand. “Names can change, can be twisted and such, but the places, they stay the same. Did you see the Capitol building, the one with the great dome?”

  Oh, so he had, and had seen the birds and standing water and vines and…

  “Yes, I did. I even walked inside.”

  Hinderline wiped at his eyes. Armand was stunned to see the scary soldier weeping. “I… I suppose it’s too much to ask if the President was there, if he was in good health.”

  “The President?”

  “Yes, yes, the President…”

  Oh, God. The Prez.

  Armand nodded. “There was a state function. I saw the Prez… the President. He seemed to be in good health.”

  Hinderline bent his head, not speaking, just letting the tears roll down his cheeks. He raised his head, his voice hoarse. “It’s… it’s been such a very long time since this post has received a visitor from the east, a visitor who’s been to the capitol. Who’s actually seen the President. You said he was well?”

  “Yes, he was.”

  “Tell me more.”

  Armand looked at Hinderline’s eager face and something hard came inside of him. “No.”

  Hinderline looked surprised. “No?”

  Armand said, “Monsieur, Major Hinderline, for now, the answer is no. I want to see Melinda, the woman who was with me, as soon as possible. After I see her and I’m happy with her condition, then we can talk some more. I’ll answer all of your questions. And perhaps you’ll answer some of mine.”

  His face turned red. “For someone who’s been rescued, medicated and fed by us, you’re speaking pretty rudely, boy.”

  Armand said, “No disrespect, major. I’m quite grateful. But that young lady was in my care. I’m responsible for her safety. As an army officer, I’m sure you know responsibility.”

  “Quite,” Hinderline said dryly.

  “If you do this, then I will be most cooperative, major. I promise you that.”

  He seemed to think about that for a moment. Hinderline made some notations on the device in his hand. “Very well, that seems agreeable… Mister de la Cloutier.”

  Hinderline gathered up his belongings, stood up, and gave him another quick nod. His face had gone back to its angry look, but the eyes betrayed him. He was excited, quite excited, and as he turned Armand said, “One more thing, major. If I may.”

  “Yes?”

  Armand held out his hand. “The coin. It belongs to me.”

  Emotions seemed to struggle across the good major’s face, wanting to keep the coin, Armand was sure, but knowing that Armand was right. The struggle was quickly resolved, then, and he handed the coin back to Armand.

  “Yes, you’re quite right,” he said. “The coin belongs to you. Thank you for allowing me to hold onto it for you.”

  The coin felt good in Armand’s hand. “You’re quite welcome, major.”

  Another nap came by and the door swung open, and Lieutenant Johnson, the black officer, came in. But she was elbowed aside by a very excited Melinda, who ran into the room and jumped onto the bed. Lieutenant Johnson grinned. “I’ll leave you two be for a bit,” and walked out.

  Melinda’s face was bright and her hair was washed, and she was wearing a plain brown blouse and slacks. She smelled of soap and gave Armand a quick kiss. “Oh, Armand. Are you all right? Are you?”

  Armand winced as he shifted his weight on the bed. “I was, until a crazy young lady jumped me.”

  She giggled and dragged one of the chairs over. After sitting down she said, “Your arm? How’s it going to be?”

  Armand moved it again and still, just the dull ache. The doctors and nurses here at Fort McGee were quite skilled, better even than the royal surgeons back home. “Going to be fine. Seems like a stone fragment hit me, and not a bullet.”

  Melinda grasped his hand. “I thought we were going to be killed, back there. Or even worse. Captured. So very close, and then the soldiers came.”

  Armand said, “What happened? Do you remember?”

  She squeezed his hand. “Some of it, but it went so very fast. I just remember there was something flying overhead towards the end. Did you notice it at all? A tiny aircraft, buzzing around.”

  Buzzing… he remembered that sound. “I don’t remember seeing it, but I remember hearing it.”

  “That’s how they knew the Ayan were there. They have some sort of aircraft that can fly around, take wireless photos of the ground, and transmit it back to the fort. When they saw the Ayan, they used wireless to send soldiers in to kill them and rescue us. Oh, Armand, you should have seen them. They sent in explosives from the air to hit the Ayans coming up the hill. For the ones near us, they had soldiers with helmets and armor. They just shot and shot the Ayan, and then took us away in some sort of powered armored car.”

  Armand squeezed her hand back. “Then the Starmen do exist, don’t they.”

  She laughed again, and dear God, it was good to see her smile. “The Starmen. Yes, I called them that, and they laughed. You know, this place is fantastic, it’s --–“

  He suddenly held the rear of her head, pulled her down, and kissed her. Armand held her head firm for a moment, his lips against hers, and he felt the gentle flicker of her tongue. Then Armand pulled away and she looked equally shocked and intrigued, and then Armand put a finger to her lips, and gently pressed them.

  She paused. He then took his other hand, the one with the tubes and wires in them, and then put that hand to one ear, and pointed up to the ceiling.

  Armand waited.

  She kissed his finger, smiled. “This place is fantastic, Armand, but you look tired.”

  “Are they treating you well?”

  She said, “My word. The first real bath I’ve had in such a long, long time Armand. You can’t believe how good it felt.” She ran her hands down the blouse and slacks. “Clean clothes… and I saw a nurse, and a doctor, and look.”

  Melinda swiveled in her chair and pulled her hair back. At the base of her neck, the same crooked-cross was there, but it was faded. She let her hair drop and turned back. “They have the ability to erase tattoos. Can you believe that? When they saw it they were suspicious, thinking I was Ayan, but they saw the rest of my scars and believed my story. They asked me if I wanted it removed, and they looked at me some more and…”

  She lowered her head to the blankets on Armand’s bed, started crying. As she wept, Armand gently stroked her hair, over and over again, thinking, just thinking.

  They talked some more and made a date for dinner –-- “If they allow it,” Armand pointed out --– and then he looked at her and stroked her hair. She lowered herself and kissed him on the lips again and walked out,
smiling, a bounce in her walk. A few minutes after she left, there was a knock on the door, and Major Hinderline came in, nodded. This time, he was accompanied by an older man, with sparse white hair and a lined face, and heavy-set eyes, and from the stars on his collars, Armand quickly determined that he must be the commander of this base.

  Major Hinderline deferred to the older man –-- whose name on his blouse said MacPHERSON –-- who take a chair. Major Hinderline sat down as well, and from his soft leather briefcase, took out the same square handheld tool and stylus from earlier.

  Hinderline said, “Did your meeting with your friend go well?”

  “Quite well, thank you, major.”

  “Are you hungry for dinner?”

  Armand smiled. “I don’t think I’ll ever not be hungry. Thank you for the care, and for the meal.”

  Hinderline didn’t smile back. “Then you’re prepared, then, to answer some questions?”

  “Of course,” he said, raising himself up. “But will you be kind enough to answer some of mine?”

  Hinderline looked to MacPherson, who made a motion with his eyes. Hinderline said, “Yes, we will. The best we can, not impacting security, you understand.”

  “I understand.”

  Hinderline said, “Before we begin, this is General Henry MacPherson, commanding officer of this base, and military commander of the neighboring free territory.”

  Armand leaned over the bed, held out a hand. “An honor, mon general.”

  The general paused, and then stood up, quickly shook his hand, and sat down. “Very well,” he said, struggling some with Armand’s language.

  Hinderline said, “The general can understand some words and phrases. But he still wanted to be here, to see you and assist me in my interrogation… ah, interview.”

  “I see.” Interrogation versus interview. Interesting choice of words.

  Back into the briefcase he went, and then he pulled out a thick piece of paper, which he unfolded, revealing a map. “Some tactical matters, if you don’t mind, before we really begin. Our armored and cavalry officers are always looking for the latest intelligence.”

  He put the map on Armand’s blanket, overlaid with a lightly numbered and lettered grid. It was an extraordinary map, not showing everything in drawings or symbols, but in a large photograph. Oh, aerial photographs weren’t new –-- photographs have been taken from airships for years --- but Armand had never seen anything so crisp or clear.

  Hinderline pointed to a rocky area. “This is where you were found.” He made a tiny sweeping motion with his hand. “This is the restricted zone, to the south, where the Minuteman strike occurred, a long time ago. Could you describe where you were riding from, and where the Ayans were located?”

  Armand did the best he could, pointing out where he thought they had ridden, but soon enough, he came to the edge of the map. Armand said apologetically, “I’m sorry. Do you have another map, showing the territory north of his location? I’ll probably be able to show you were they had a small village. That’s where we were kept, and where we escaped from.”

  Hinderline had a tight little smile. “All the maps we need are right here,” and Armand felt his eyes widen as Hinderline touched something in the corner of the map, and the photograph changed! Like a slide show! The picture faded out and then another one came into focus, and he thought, Armand, old boy, these truly are Starmen, no matter what they say…

  Armand looked down and said, “Yeah. Here. You don’t see it on this photograph, but in this stretch of hills, the Ayans have a village. That’s where Melinda and I escaped.”

  “And how did you manage that particular feat?” Hinderline asked.

  He said calmly, “Through my superior force of arms, how else?”

  There was a twitch on the general’s face, like he was trying not to smile. Hinderline, though, merely made another notation in his device. “How many were in that village?”

  “Sometimes as many as eighteen or twenty,” Armand said. “When we escaped, there were about eight or nine. Most were killed or injured during our escape.”

  “I see,” he said. “Is there any other helpful information you can provide?”

  Armand looked closer at the map. “Here. There’s a box canyon here where I was captured.” Armand moved his finger and said, “There’s also a place here, a flat area, perhaps an old airstrip, where I saw hulls of flying machines. The Ayans came up from here –“ he made another motion with his finger “—and chased me into this canyon. That canyon was a trap. There were already Ayan waiting there, in ambush.”

  MacPherson said something to Hinderline –-- and Armand could actually understand some of the Anglish, for MacPherson was saying this information could prove useful --– and then Hinderline said, “All right. Let’s move on. I need to --–“

  “Yes,” Armand interrupted. “Let’s move on. By my count, I’ve answered at least four of your questions. I think it’s time you answer a few of mine. Or don’t you remember our agreement, major?”

  His lips pursed a bit. “Yes, I do remember our agreement. But remember, too, there are topics that can be answered, for reasons of security.”

  “That’s fine,” Armand said. “The Ayan. How long have you been fighting them?”

  Hinderline looked to MacPherson and then looked to Armand. “As long as any of us can remember. Our fathers fought them. Our grandfathers fought them.”

  Armand moved his left arm, thankful the aching had lessened. “But from what I saw, you have powerful weapons. Why not seek them out and destroy them, once and for all?”

  MacPherson responded quickly to that question, and Hinderline cocked his head, and then said, “We do what we can. Standingorders. We defend the base and the free territory surrounding the base. We assist the local population, as much as we can, but our resources, our forces, are limited. We do what we can. The Ayan know not to travel within our territory. They did so the other day, chasing you and your companion. They paid the price.”

  Fair enough, Armand thought. He pointed to the object in Hinderline’s hands. “Is that what I think it is? One of those calculating devices, the ones the old ones used?”

  Hinderline lifted it up and examined it for a second, like it was something he had just received. “It does many things, and is very old, but yes, I suppose you’re right. It is one of those calculating devices.”

  “But I thought they were all destroyed during the War of the World, when the sun bombs went off and destroyed the electronic machinery inside.”

  Hinderline lowered his device. “Most were,” he said. “But the military had models built to resist those types of bombs. Others were kept in protected vaults, like the ones we have here.”

  MacPherson said something sharp and Hinderline said, “That’s enough questions on our equipment. Any more, before I proceed?”

  Armand knew he was running out of time. “If you don’t mind me asking, who are you? How long have you been here?”

  Again, that exchange of looks, and Hinderline said, “We’re Fort McGee. We’re a detached armored unit, Seventh Calvary, U.S. Army. That’s who we are.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  MacPherson spoke up. “Ever since the war.”

  “What war?”

  Hinderline said simply, “The one called the War of the World.”

  Armand stared at them both, not quite believing what he was hearing. “How old are you? Really?”

  Hinderline now smiled. “Me? I’m forty years old. The general… I believe he is fifty-six.”

  “Fifty-five,” the general crisply replied.

  “But the War of the World. That happened hundreds of years ago.”

  “So it did,” Hinderline said. “Our ancestors were stationed here. Their children grew up, enlisted, and had children as well. We have stayed here, thrived here, all because we follow our standingorders.”

  With that, Hinderline and MacPherson both glanced up at the portrait on the wall. Armand looked at the
condition of the painting, and it started making sense. That framed artwork was old, really old.

  “Who was that officer?”

  Hinderline talked again, but his voice was full of respect, like a priest in a cathedral before the relic of a saint. “General Pope. The one that kept us safe, during the war. The one who led us with skill, honor and duty. Even when the bombs came down, the diseases, the famine, when communications were lost. When we were on our own, he kept our ancestors and the citizens in the free territory alive. He gave us the rules to live by, he gave us --–“

  Armand quickly interrupted. “Your standing orders, am I right?”

  Hinderline nodded, and so did MacPherson. “He saved us, saved us all. We did that by following our standingorders… but Mister de la Cloutier?”

  “Yes?” Armand replied, knowing he was getting hungry and would probably need another bathroom break shortly, and wondering how long this meeting was going last. Hinderline spoke up and then Armand forgot about everything, save for what he had just said.

  “Mister de la Cloutier,” he repeated. “Standingorders are fine, they are respected, but we fear they are no longer enough. Mister de la Cloutier, we need your help. Can you help us?”

  Armand looked at their faces, and knew they weren’t joking.

  Chapter Five

  Much later Lieutenant Johnson came in, unhooked his arm from the tube and wires, and examined Armand’s shoulder. “Down the hall there’s a shower facility, if you’d like to use it.”

  “But what about my bandage?”

  “Water proof,” she said. “Not a problem.”

  Johnson helped him get out of bed and produced a pair of soft slippers. Outside the floor was flat light yellow tile, clean and shiny. Armand held onto her strong arm as they walked down the corridor. There were other rooms as well and from the few open doors, there were no other patients. They came to a door marked SHOWER and she led him in. It was white tile, with a WC in one end and a shower at the other. There was a vanity with some folded over clothes and toiletries. She pointed to a cord on the wall. “You need anything, just tug that, all right?”