by David Winnie
Returning from reverie, Angkor stood and helped Ryder to his feet. “It is time. You and Father prepared this burden for me; it is time I take the odious thing up,” he said. “I know who did this. I swear to you; they will be made to pay for this sin.” Angkor embraced the old man.
“I haven’t the words, my friend. My father loved you. You and your people will be honored by my descendants long after we walk amongst the stars as gods.”
“Then, until that day,” Ryder said, “I take my leave. My Lord.” His deep, silent bow swore lifelong fealty.
“You should declare yourself Emperor.” Dawlish stated before the War Council.
“To what ends, General?” asked Angkor, “My father, dead less than six months and you want me to claim such a lofty status?”
“To the ends that you are a splendid example for our people now,” explained his chief of staff. “To stand before the Union Council and declare yourself Emperor…” he rubbed his chin and continued. “The people worship you now. Were you to declare yourself Emperor, they would revere you as a god.”
“By your Mongol tradition, you are already a god,” chimed a minister. “When your father named you headman of the Khalkha, you technically became the Crown Prince. In the ancient times, such a declaration ascended you to godhood. Therefore, claiming the Empire is the next logical step.”
So you say,” acceded Angkor. “That means my son, Buru, will replace me as Crown Prince. Does this mean he also becomes a god?”
“Your son is not part of this discussion,” snapped Dawlish.
“But he is,” Angkor pointed out. “As my son, he is heir as headman of my tribe. When I die, he replaces me as leader. So says the law laid down by my father and the Council.”
Dawlish Zoltan’s eyes narrowed. “Your son is not of age,” he answered. “When he is, then we will discuss his role. For now, we need you. You are a powerful symbol, Angkor. As Emperor, you will be the public face of this Council. Our enemies will be forced to acknowledge this. To stand against you would be political suicide.”
“We need it to be more than political suicide,” thundered Angkor. “To stand against me shall be unthinkable. To do so shall be not only death for you, it shall also mean death to your family.” He stood, crossed his arms and peered down his nose at his Council. “I will not be a symbol,” he declared. “I will agree to become Emperor only when I have the loyalty and obedience of this Council. For both me and my descendants. Including my son.”
“This is a discussion for another day.” Dawlish bit off each word. “We have a more important consideration. Will you appear before the Union Council and declare yourself Emperor?”
The men glared at each other. Finally, Angkor set his jaw. “My son succeeds me in this office,” he declared. “There will be no further discussion. Call the Union Council. I will appear before them tomorrow. There, I will make the declaration you seek.”
“Majesty,” A female Army General stood and bowed. “Might I suggest we recess? A short break after such a decision would be prudent.”
Angkor nodded. “One hour,” he declared.
Majesty,” called Dawlish. “May I have a moment of your time? Privately? “
” My office,” agreed Angkor, “Fifteen minutes.” He strolled from the chamber as if he had not a care in the world.
Chapter 21
December 3053 to February 3054 A.D.
The office of the Leader of the Terran Union in the Keep was an expansive, airy room, its balcony overlooking the Gobi Desert from the western slopes of the Khangai Mountains. Tenzing had decorated it with bookshelves of texts from all across the Terran Union, including writings from worlds outside the Union. Busts of classic Terran leaders, paintings from the affiliated colonies were scattered throughout the office. On a shelf, firestones from the Great Vent, a volcano located deep in the oceans of Mer, the ocean world. A garden box from Tantalus IV stood next to the doorway to his balcony.
Angkor could not bring himself to use his father’s workplace.
Instead, he continued to use his nearby, more modest office. There was no window. He would have been happy with just his desk and a computer terminal, but Sophia had thought otherwise. She painted the room in a pale white and added dark wainscoting. A curio cabinet fashioned of poota wood was a gift from the Archbishop of Vespa. He was building a school, with the lofty hope of it becoming a University one day. The gift was a subtle indulgence to garner the Khan’s favor. Within it, small figurines, and souvenirs from twenty years and millions of miles of marriage. A comfortable, overstuffed leather couch was on the opposite wall. (Angkor became fond of the couch in short order; it was perfect for a quick afternoon nap).
His desk was modest, the computer terminal built in to save space. Each item on the desk was set in perfect symmetry; pad square to the edges, pens and pencils aligned perfectly against them. Angkor maintained a neat, orderly mind, reflected by the order of his desk.
A plain wooden chair was for visitors. It sat slightly lower than the Khan’s. Visitors invited to appear before the Khan often felt they were being inspected by their headmaster. On a credenza behind his desk sat the same self-heating teapot his mother had used all the years he lived with her on the steppe.
A gilt-framed picture faced Angkor from the left side of his desk. Dawlish lifted it and inspected the image. Brightly smiling, youthful Angkor and Sophia looked back at him. Her young face was bruised and swollen. Ah, he thought, their wedding day. I wonder why he didn’t have the marking the old tea seller left on her face removed from the image.
He replaced the picture as he heard the rattle of the washroom door. Angkor emerged, wiping his hands on a towel. He poured tea for himself and sat behind his desk.
“So, Dawlish, what did you want to speak to me about?” queried Angkor. He frowned and adjusted the wedding image on his desk a fraction.
He did not offer his old friend the chair.
“You will not address me in that tone is a Council meeting again,” Dawlish was controlled but furious. “I am the Chief of Staff of the Army, not some underling. Further, I am a Turkman. You will address me in an appropriate manner of respect befitting of my station.”
“Of your station,” mused Angkor. “I would remind you who I am. Khan of the Mongolian Empire, Leader of the Terran Union. I should think you would be cognizant of my station.”
Dawlish seated himself in the chair across from Angkor. “Yes, your station,” he sighed. “Leader of the Terran Union. I remind you who placed you on that throne, Leader.” His voice dripped sarcasm.
“My father placed me here,” answered Angkor. “His dream, his life’s work. All led to me being exactly where I am today.” He tapped the desktop forcefully. “I earned this through the hard work Tenzing demanded of me. I have been forged by his lessons, prepared since I was a child. Today I sit here at the bequest of my father.”
“You sit there because I seated you there,” Dawlish said. “Your father may have provided for you to become Leader. But it was my friends and I who actually placed you there.” He leaned back and steepled his fingers. “Never forget, oh great leader, that you sit there at others’ indulgence. Should you ever forget who is truly in charge, it shall be easy enough to demonstrate who the real leaders are.
“I have already executed one nearly bloodless coup. Do not think for a second that I would be unwilling to execute a second. You will go before the Terran Council. You will declare the new Terran Empire with yourself as Emperor. You will make certain everyone knows you are Leader.” Dawlish settled back comfortably in the wooden chair. “You will do this and comply with my orders.”
“And if I do not?” Angkor responded. “Suppose I refuse? Or perhaps I should expose you?”
Dawlish rubbed his hands together, stretched and placed them behind his head. “It should be easy enough for you to understand. Refusal? Your family could pay for your disobedience. Exposure? Should I get a hint that you are trying to expose our arrangement, then we wi
ll see a new Khan behind that desk. I wonder how compliant your young son would be under my tutelage.”
Angkor knew he had been outmaneuvered. For now. “What are your orders, General?” His anger was barely contained.
“Come now, Angkor, no need for any hostility,” Dawlish said. “You will go to Zurich tomorrow, as I ordered. My speech writers will have your pronouncement ready. You may have a coronation if you wish.
“Then I want you to finish the damned Vinithri negotiations. I cannot fathom why it has taken so long…”
“Because we cannot agree on a suitable planet for their survivors to settle on,” interjected Angkor.
“Then find one!” Dawlish demanded. “It should not be so difficult.”
“They surrendered to us, offering much but asking for little,” Angkor explained. “With the death of their Queen, what they really need is a facility to see if they can replicate their Queen Jelly…”
“I don’t care,” Dawlish cut him off. “Whatever it takes, make it happen.” He rose from the chair. “I need you to be productive,” he stated. “The Empire cannot grow, much less survive with an ineffective leader like your father on the throne. I expect results, Leader. I will have them.”
“…We have vanquished the enemies the Galactic Council has sent against us. Indeed, the Vinithri are now a subjugated people and the Solarians cower in fear and refuse to leave their world, lest we visit them again and rain our fury on them once more. We have sought out treaties with our neighbors and they flock to us, seeking our wisdom and protection.
“Our enemies cower before us. The Galactic Council fears us. We are a new force in this sector of the Sagittarius Arm, a force to be reckoned with. We do not seek war. But for those who would wish us ill, I point to our defeated foes and say ‘You hold no power over us! We will not cower and whimper, begging for our lives!! We will stand by our friends and together, rout our enemies! See what we have done. Fear us and tremblely obey!’”
(Wild applause and cheering)
“My father and I spoke often of the nature of government. He believed, as do I, that all beings, human or otherwise, wish to live in safety and security. They want prosperity and the knowledge that their children will have the same opportunity at happiness and success that their parents had. All wish for fair, just laws that protect us all from those who would prey on the weak and misfortunate.
“We believed, my father and I, that such a government was possible, such a society was inevitable. The time for such a government is now, here, in this place.
“As your leader, it falls to me to create and establish this society. Today, here and now, I declare the Terran Union has fulfilled its purpose. It has grown to the maximum of its potential. It is time for us to fondly send it into history and move forward. It is time for us to stand and declare in a loud voice who we are today and forever.
“We are the Terran Empire.”
(More wild applause and cheering)
“As your leader, it is incumbent upon me to assume the title of Emperor of the Terran Empire. I do so in the utmost humility. I have served the last fifteen years as Khan of my beloved Mongolian Empire on Terra. Today, I add to my responsibilities by declaring myself Emperor Angkor Khan, of the Terran Empire….”
-From the speech by the Emperor Angkor Khan to the Terran Council, 1 June 3061
My husband is certainly listless tonight.
“Angkor?” Sophia’s touch was feather light. “Husband, are you awake?”
“Yes, my love.”
“I want you to know, that was a very fine speech you gave.”
“Thank you.”
“I would have never imagined such a thing,” she stated matter-of-factly.” A poor tea seller such as myself marries a fine doctor, goes to the stars with him and returns to a life in which he becomes Emperor.” She shook her head, wonderment on her countenance. “No, I could never have imagined such a thing.”
He rolled to face her and took her in his arms. “You know, this makes you an Empress,” he told her.
She stiffened. “I had not thought of that,” she admitted. “Truly, this is even more amazing. Do I have to wear a crown?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, surely you will. It would be most befitting of your station.”
His sigh was heavy. “I should suppose,” he said. “Though it would seem pretentious. Perhaps I should just continue to wear my hat of the Khan.”
“No,” she answered. “That will fall to Buru when he achieves his maturity.” She thought for several minutes.
“Husband?”
“Yes, my love?”
“Would you like me to design your crown?” she asked.
“I would prefer not to wear a crown at all,” he said.
“Unfortunately for you, it is not an option,” she countered. “When you assumed the mantle of leadership, you assumed all it entailed. Even,” she flashed her cheery smile, “the silly hat of that position.”
“You will not make me look silly.”
“Of course not!” she chided. “It will reflect the iron needed to be a firm leader, yet the humility a strong, wise leader needs.”
“You have already given this thought, I see.”
She kissed his nose. “Of course!” she exclaimed. “It is my duty as your wife to think of all those things you are too busy to think of. That is the secret my mother told me of having a harmonious house and marriage.”
“Oh?” he asked, “And what else did she tell you of making a harmonious marriage?” He reached under her gown.
She chuckled naughtily. “There are a few things I learned on my own,” as she slid her hand into his pajamas.
True to her word, Sophia designed an unpretentious, but powerful crown for the new Empire.
They were to appear before the Terran Council in Zurich, a month after Angkor’s speech declaring the new Empire. Today, he was to receive the blessing of the Council. Then, it would dissolve itself at the pleasure of the new Emperor.
“I spent time researching both crowns and the rainbow robe your mother purchased for you on your naming day,” Sophia explained. “The robe is similar to what was worn by the last of the Chin Emperors. The golden color reflects the image of the sun. The dragon and the horse were powerful creatures in Chin lore. And the colored stripes represented the legions of people their Emperor would rule over.”
She handed him the simple, elegant crown. It was a buffed and polished steel ring, a pair of hoops passing over the top secured by a single rivet at the intersection. A thin strip of ermine graced the bottom of the ring, into which a blue cap was fitted. “I chose steel, for it has been forged to strength as well as flexibility, two attributes the Emperor should have. The ermine is traditional for the ruler to wear, but I kept it modestly small for your humility. The blue cap is to represent Terra, though I had many other color caps made so you may change it as you wish.”
“And the hoop?” he asked,
She giggled. “Because it looks so handsome on you with those hoops.”
She donned the diadem she had designed for herself. A thin gold band, with an upswept peak at her forehead. As with his new crown, elegant, simple, modest.
They entered the Council chamber, Angkor in his brilliant new rainbow robe, breeches and boots, Sophia wearing a golden sari streaked with rainbow threads. A set of unadorned thrones sat on a low dais before the Union Council. Angkor escorted Sophia to the dais; they sat together on the new chairs.
“Majesty. My Lady,” Dawlish bowed before them. “Today, the Union Council wishes to express its gratitude that you have agreed to assume the mantel of leadership that our new Empire so richly deserves. Today, this Council has agreed to dissolve, leaving the leaderships and rule to your divine majesty.”
Angkor stood and returned the bow of General Zoltan, then bowed to the Council. “My thanks to you all,” he said. “Your toils have been long and arduous to reach this point. And I have no doubt in my mind the task before us will b
e equally challenging.
And I understand all too well, having been amongst your number for all these years, that no one man or woman will ever have the ability to solely run our Empire alone. Therefore, while I discharge you of your duties as the Terran Union Council, I reinstate each of you to my Imperial Council.”
He lifted the crown from his head and set it on the throne. “This will serve to remind you, when I am not present, you are still operating under my authority. My rule. My law. As your Emperor and Khan, I demand of each of you to serve me and serve for the greater good of my Empire!”
The room erupted in raucous cheers. Angkor took Sophia’s hand and escorted her down the central aisle of the Council chamber. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched General Zoltan seething.
Chapter 22
May 3055 A.D.
Angkor reflected on the vista before him. The wind was cold, not bitterly, but enough for him to pull his shawl tighter. The sun was rising behind him; soon he would need to discard the wrap, anyway.
The pot began to bubble. He lifted the self-boiling crockery from the grass and poured his tea. Ah, he could feel the warmth of the morning sun strike his back. He sipped the drink as its first rays swept across the glade and valley below him. A brush of light banished the vestiges of night and replaced it with yellow and green grasses, lumps of lichen, splotched grey stone and splashes of color from the midsummer wildflowers. The morning wind rolled over the ridge behind Angkor, bathing him in the sweet odors of the grasses that grew in the valley beyond.
The whoosh and buzz of an air car came from his left. Minutes later, a muffled tclick-tclick-tclick of measured footfall not of this Earth greeted his ears, accompanied by the soft footfall of his guards.
“Master, it…she is here,” the guard nearly whispered. He had that effect on people. They felt the need to bow and lower their voice. He would use that advantage soon enough. But first, he had this negotiation to finish.
A click of mandible with a sickly-sweet odor. A mechanical voice from her translator stated, “I greet you, Emperor Angkor Khan of Terra.”
