Royal Rebel: A Genetic Engineering Space Opera

by Gail Gernat

  Barone glared at Desmoinnis, who, engrossed with the animals going into the gates, totally ignored him. Finally, the colts were loaded in the chutes. The bell rang, and they were off.

  Socail broke in front and quickly took the rail. A couple of other horses passed him, and he settled third, running well and steady. Killer trailed the pack, bobbing and fighting his jockey. They zoomed past the quarter pole, and the red rider began laying it on with the whip. Killer fought, then at the half, he began to run. The front-runners started to fade, and Socail moved to second place. Killer, moving like a machine placed himself fourth. A failing front-runner boxed him against the rail. At the three-quarter pole, Socail turned on the speed, smoothly springing into first place. Killer fought his way free. He was burning up the track again. Socail spread out and flashed past the finish line, beating Killer by a head.

  Lord Desmoinnis flushed redder with pleasure. “Milady it seems I have the honor of being the first winner at your new track. Excuse me, please, to leave for the winner’s circle,” he requested.

  “Certainly milord. Perhaps you will escort Lady Felina. She will be doing the presentations today. Unless she is the winner, and then I suppose I will have to do the honors,” Radhya informed him.

  “My pleasure” replied Lord Desmoinnis.

  He, Princess Felina, and all their guards left the box. Now their two entourages were alone, the Lady turned to Barone, staring straight into his livid face.

  “I don’t know what you did to the Princess to get her to force me into this contract farce, but I doubt if you’ll get much pleasure from it.”

  “Bah!” snarled Barone. “I don’t talk business when I’m racing. Don’t bother me now. Killer should have won.”

  “He certainly had the speed,” agreed Radhya. “He just needs better training and a better jockey.”

  “Don’t tell me how to race horses. I’ve been racing for twenty-five years. You have not had your first race yet.”

  “Fine, let’s talk about your betrothal present. If it is taken incorrectly, it can kill. Changing your genetic fingerprint is a serious thing. You do realize, don’t you, that if you have any genetic locks on anything they will have to all be reprogrammed.”

  “I told you, I don’t talk business at races!” he yelled.

  “I heard you. I’ll explain how to use it, then, before the banquet, in front of all these Lords and Ladies, who I am sure, are dying for some juicy gossip and your insecurity about the size of your penis will be very titillating I’m sure.”

  “Sh-sh-sh” whispered Barone, glancing over his shoulder at his slaves and hers. “I guess you are right. Give me the instructions now.”

  “Excuse me,” she snarled back, “I don’t talk business at a race.”

  Lord Barone ground his teeth. “I am sorry my dear, dear Radhya. I should not have spoken like that. I get upset when I lose. Please, let’s sit down here and explain all the wonders you have created for me.”

  He put his arm around her waist. She removed it. Noel put his arm around her again.

  “Padr,” she called with warning in her voice.

  Padr stalked forward. Barone let her go and merely held his hand toward the comfortable sofa on the back wall. Radhya complied grudgingly.

  “Now,” he commanded, “tell me all about it.”

  Arms folded across her chest Radhya glared at him a moment, then smiled a dangerous smile.

  “First, it will be very painful. I mean that sincerely. Every experimental subject so far has reported excruciating pain for about two weeks. I hope that in your case it will be three weeks. Then everything returns to normal, except bigger. You have three things, a tablet, a capsule, and a liquid. Timing is essential. Have an attendant standing by with a molecular timing piece, minimum. This is timed to the second. If you are not accurate, it will dry up and fall off. First, get comfortable, you will be very dizzy. Take the tablet. Wait exactly two hours, exactly, right to the second. Then take the capsule. Wait exactly, and again, I mean exactly twelve hours and thirteen minutes. Twelve hours and fourteen minutes can kill you. Twelve hours and twelve minutes will not give you your full potential. Therefore, in twelve hours and thirteen minutes you drink the liquid. Get every drop. Rinse the bottle and drink that to make sure you get it all. Now you chug, don’t sip. That’s about all there is to it. But remember, it is going to hurt.”

  “How much bigger?” asked Barone.

  “At least double maybe a little more. Two centimeters becomes four; four becomes eight, six becomes twelve, you get the idea,” she answered. “Oh and don’t try to analyze it so you can recreate and sell it. Each one is based on the individual’s own DNA. Yours would not work for anyone else. I have had a necessity to become that specific in my work.”

  “When did you make it then?” he asked. “We only agreed to this last night?”

  “The four of us,” she said indicating her slaves, “stayed up the whole night making it. And for the record, you forced me into this arrangement. I didn’t agree. How about if I give this to you as a free gift and we just forget the contracting. Then we can go back to being friends.”

  Lord Barone‘s smile made her blood run cold. She forced back the shadows waiting to pounce, that memory that always hovered, just beneath the surface of her mind.

  “Distaff Mile is the next race, and I want to see my horse win,” snapped Radhya jumping up from the sofa, fear distilled into anger.

  “Very few horses win their maiden race,” a smug Noel replied.

  Radhya moved to the front of the box. The post parade for the third had started, Secretary in position number one. She pranced tautly; her blood-colored coat gleaming in the sun. She shook her ebony mane and tail fiercely. Radhya’s livery colors were light emerald green and dark forest green, a color that glowed against her bay coat.

  Lord Barone’s entry was Harlot’s Heat, a large black filly. To Radhya, his horse appeared to hang over on the front end. The filly stalked along as though alone, to the number three position. The red livery looked gruesome on her darkness.

  Lady Love was Princess Felina’s entry. She was a pure silvery white, delicate yet athletic. She wore, of course, the royal purple. She minced her way along the track, spurning it with her hooves.

  Seven other entries were starting as well. Radhya gripped the ledge at the front of the box until her knuckles whitened.

  “You’d best relax milady. You give your suitor too much ammunition,” whispered Padr in her ear.

  She glanced around to see Lord Barone watching her closely, a superior smile on his narrow lips. Lady Kirbyson relaxed every muscle as much as possible while still maintaining her same pose.

  The starting bell caught her off guard. Focusing her attention on the fillies flying around the track, Radhya could see nothing at first, but as they passed the quarter pole, she could just distinguish Barone’s filly in the lead. She looked at him, and his eyes were glowing with manic glee, his lips pulled back exposing his teeth like a snarling wolf. Radhya shivered and looked away.

  The horses were tearing down the track at a furious speed. Harlot’s Heat was still in front, but Lady Love and Secretary were breaking from the pack. Stride by stride they crept closer to the black filly, running together neck by neck. The audience in the grandstands rose roaring to their feet. In a rush, the white and the bay passed the front-runner. In an astounding burst of speed, Lady Love pulled ahead of Secretary and flashed passed the wire a half-length in the lead.

  Radhya felt a knife of disappointment course through her. She looked around. Noel was flying thunderclouds again, stamping back and forth across the floor. Radhya quickly grabbed hold of her emotions, deciding never to be a sore loser.

  Placing a smile on her face, she said, “Not too bad for a first race is it now?”

  Padr gave her a sympathetic look, but Max and Will looked blank.

  “Excellent, my dear,” sneered Noel. “Excellent for you anyway.”

  Lady Kirbyson swept from the box
and down to the winner’s circle. Princess Felina, flushed with success and pleasure, was beaming at the crowd. After the presentation, Radhya stayed to speak to some of the other aristocracy. She was gracious to all, receiving congratulations on a fine start to her racing career. She returned to her box for the fifth because Tango Dancer was a contestant. The box was fortuitously empty when she returned.

  “Oh Will,” she sighed, “this is going to kill me. I don’t seem to handle such excitement very well. Have you got something to help calm me down, keep me cool?”

  As Will reached for his kit, Padr pushed him away.

  “This is part of living. You’ve been a recluse so long you don’t know how to live anymore. Are you so scared of having an honest emotion that you want to drug it away the first time it appears? If you drug yourself every time you feel anything, you’re not the person I thought you were,” he stated.

  Shocked, Radhya looked at him, her mouth agape. After thinking a minute, she replied, “Thank you. You are correct. I must control myself by myself, not rely on a drug. That would have been a shameful mistake. I am grateful.”

  Padr bowed his head and turned away. Radhya went to the front of the box to watch Tango Dancer.

  Her colt was number seven, a beautiful gleaming grey. He walked the track calmly, ebony mane and tail glistening in the sunlight. He was undoubtedly the most beautiful animal on the track that day. Radhya could see patrons below her pointing to him and consulting their programs.

  Just as they were at the starting gate, Noel pranced in.

  “Well” he gloated, “did you see my Keddedy Bay win the fourth? My Voyager will clean up this one as well.”

  The gates flew up, and the horses were off. Fleur-de-Lis and Calcutta Rat took the early lead and fought a seesaw war for first place. First one then the other was leading, throwing clods of dirt backward to the third and fourth place runners. Tango Dancer kept his fourth position until the halfway point. He exploded down the track. Calcutta Rat and Fleur-de-Lis might as well have been standing still. Radhya couldn’t breathe with the beauty of Tango’s running. Faster and faster he moved, like clouds before a hurricane. Tango Dancer crossed the finish line seven lengths in front and still pulling away. The stands were silent. Then a roar clove the air.

  Radhya felt so weak she backed to the sofa and sat down. Noel stared at her, mouth hanging open.

  “I never,” he sputtered, “I never saw a horse run like that. You bred him?”

  “No” murmured Radhya, “I commissioned a breeder on Kentucky to breed him for me. I just selected his parents.”

  “Amazing,” said Noel shaking his head. “When we contract he will belong to me as well.”

  “Milady,” interrupted Padr, “They will need you in the winner’s circle.”

  Radhya rose on shaky legs and left. This time the roles were reversed. Lady Felina presented her with the trophy. Radhya hugged Li and Tan, the jockey.

  “A reward for you both. Tell me what you want when we all get home tonight.”

  She hugged them both again. “Hurry,” she cried to her bodyguards, “the main event will be starting soon. I don’t want to miss Son-O-War. “

  “I hope you don’t hope for another race like that. Something like that happens once in a lifetime,” commented Padr.

  Radhya merely grinned at him and rushed on her way. Back in the box, Lord Barone was waiting. Radhya felt the joy drain from her at the sight of him.

  “Now all the premium runners will be out,” he explained to her. “There’s Lady Felina’s Silver Bullet. He’s a full brother to Lady Love. Then there’s Lady Koom’s Exodus; he’s a real bugger to beat. Ocean Pearl is a big threat, so is Irritation. Of course, my big black colt, Single Might, is going to be the winner. I am glad though, one of your entries won, and second isn’t a bad place for a maiden race either.”

  “Milord, let’s have the Helix Cup run before you hand out the prize to yourself,” Lady Kirbyson replied.

  The field was very large, twenty-four horses. The post parade seemed endless to Radhya, and she was sure time stood still until the barrier was sprung.

  Son-O-War sprang to the lead; his huge body blazing like wildfire down the track. His distance from the other racers grew with every stride. All the mighty racers, the cream of the aristocratic stables, were left behind in the dust, like smoke to his flame. He crossed the finish line thirty lengths ahead of Silver Bullet and Single Might who had a photo finish for second place, Single Might’s black snout a hair ahead of Lady Felina’s favorite.

  “Well, it seems I am destined to be second to you, again,” snarled Lord Barone. “Today only, you realize.”

  “Hopefully forever” laughed Radhya as she bounced off to the winner’s circle again.

  Princess Felina handed her the huge double helix of emeralds, rubies, sapphires, and diamonds. It was a gaudy barbaric thing, exactly as Radhya had commissioned it. As the crowd cheered and applauded, Radhya beamed at everyone. Crowds surrounded her and congratulated her making the guards work hard to get her some breathing room.

  When the commotion cleared, Padr spoke quietly to her. “These are animals you picked the parents of, and I am very impressed. I understand you also picked me?”

  “No” she replied softly. “I never picked you, that was all my grandfather’s doing. I’ll try to explain it to you someday.”

  Chapter 9

  In her room, the Lady looked dubiously at the outfit Aninya had left.

  “I don’t think this exactly fits my image as Lady Death, do you?” she asked her bodyguards, holding up a small gown, shoulderless, very low cut, skin tight to the knees where it flared like a goldfish tail. It was black with red tiger stripes running downward. There were spike-heeled black shoes and red elbow high gloves striped in black.

  “Where did she find a monstrosity like that? I can’t remember anything of this sort in my clothing room,” Radhya puzzled.

  “I believe that Dave said Jemelina made it,” replied Will. “At least try it on. She probably worked very hard on it to please you.”

  “No!” stated Radhya emphatically. “I’ll go to the banquet in what I am wearing.”

  “If you do you’ll offend every aristocrat there, especially Lady Felina,” said Padr.

  “Everyone will think it’s for Lord Barone,” spoke Max in a tight voice. “And think how hurt Jemelina will be if you don’t wear it.”

  Radhya frowned and wrinkled her nose. “Is there anyone at home who could bring me something else?”

  Max tried his wrist comp. “The only one around is Geo. He says wear what you have; he is too old to run over here and be a ladies maid.”

  “I don’t want to look like Lady Sex.”

  “Unless you want to go naked I don’t think you have a lot of choice here,” counselled Padr.

  Radhya dragged off to prepare herself. Will called her as soon as she had slithered and stuffed herself into the dress.

  “Radhya, Aninya sent these up,” he told her displaying a necklace and hair band of fire gems and black pearls. “Aninya apologized. She is too busy to see to you herself. The final food preparations are not going well in the kitchen, Dave found something, and they had to redo a lot of dishes.”

  “I can’t breathe in this thing. It is excessively tight. I can’t draw any air in,” Radhya complained. “How am I supposed to put that stuff on with these?”

  She thrust her arms encased in long gloves in the air.

  “Let me,” chimed in Max.

  Max slipped the string of gems around Radhya’s throat. Unfortunately, the clasp snarled in her hair. After much tugging and ripping of strands, he got it free and fastened properly.

  “I am sorry milady,” he apologized.

  She brushed her hair smooth again and tried to put the hair band in. Every attempt it went crooked. She approached Max. He couldn’t straighten it either. Nor was Will able to get the recalcitrant piece of metal to sit evenly on her hair.

  “I paid a fortune for
the pack of you, and there is not a decent serving wench among you. Padr give it a try.”

  From a drawer, Padr extracted his measuring tools. It was to no avail; the hair band would not sit straight. Radhya gave it a tweak.

  “If you can’t get perfection, then go for randomness,” she instructed, the gems glowing lopsidedly in her hair.

  “Well,” interrupted Padr sarcastically, “You might as well look the part all the way. Lord Barone is going to think you are hot for him. They probably will call you Lady Sex after you parade around in that all night.”

  “You’re the one who said I had to wear it,” Radhya snarled back.

  “I’m sorry milady. I didn’t realize that it was so revealing. It just looks totally out of character for you, more like something you would find in a pleasure house.”

  “Well, it is certainly no pleasure for me. I can’t even breathe. Jemelina had better appreciate my wearing this for her. By the way, don’t let her design anything for me ever again.”

  Radhya and the bodyguards left the safety of the room. As Dave met her at the door of the banquet room, her face was like thunder.

  “I am sorry, milady. I told Jemelina to check with you first. She fancies herself an extraordinary fashion designer. I apologize for her. Please, don’t punish her, she was only trying to make tonight special.”

  “Especially embarrassing,” snorted Radhya. “Dave, I appreciate her efforts. But the measurement is wrong. I can’t walk and can barely breathe and don’t, just don’t ever let her make me anything again.”

  Dave bowed his head as every eye in the place fastened itself on Lady Kirbyson. The sound of shock rippled through the room. Noel fairly flew to take her arm.

  “My dear,” he murmured down at her, “I am horrified. I never suspected you of wanting to be a nightclub singer.”

  “Why my dear almost fiancé I thought you would be wanting to make all the other men and some of the women jealous of your excellent taste,” she snapped. “Maybe you could take a holo for Krin.”