Royal Rebel: A Genetic Engineering Space Opera

by Gail Gernat

  Others were furtive, eyes downcast and timid; avoiding contact as much as possible. Radhya noticed Lord Barone in the latter category.

  She returned to her room for breakfast to be greeted by Kung and Singha. Radhya had just sold the last of Singha’s latest batch of kits the day before, and the big cat was heartbroken.

  “Max, I want you to take Singha, leashed, everywhere with us, and Padr you take Kung, he likes you best. Next to me of course. I want all of you to stay close. There are usually more assassination attempts at these reviews than anywhere else,” Radhya informed them.

  “No wonder, when you have so many spoiled children in one place,” retorted Will.

  “Now, now,” chided Radhya, “they are supposed to be your betters. Not that even one of them is fit to iron your tunic, or would know how, but they think they are your betters.”

  They were laughing as Aninya bustled into the room.

  “I thought you had your hands full with all the banquet preparations?” Radhya queried.

  “I came to help you dress milady.”

  “I’m sorry Aninya; I plan on my usual basic black robes for the next three days.”

  “But surely the dancing and all tonight and tomorrow, you can’t show up in that.”

  Radhya sighed, “I don’t know why not. I don’t like dressing up. However, I suppose you’re right. I want plain and simple, and only for the evening banquet and dancing. If someone is going to kill me, I want to be comfortable. Come back if you have time before the banquet starts.”

  “Yes, milady.”

  Aninya left as Radhya gathered up her guards, two and four footed, and left to do her duty socializing.

  On day two, the grind was not as difficult. Many of the aristocracy, having presented their documents and fulfilled the required hobnobbing, were off to other locations enjoying their favorite activities. Dave reported only one attempted murder, and that appeared to have been a violent disagreement over a race finish. He had quietly begun moving his trained bodyguards into the visitors’ center a few at a time.

  The third and final day dawned misty and still. The long, nerve-racking awarding ceremony began in the ballroom at nine in the morning. The proctors on the platform called each member of the aristocracy, starting with the lowest status, those who had the highest number. They worked their way up in status, counting down the numbers. Each royal was given a medallion with their status for the next ten years, and their wrist comp was adjusted. Then he or she returned to their seat, and the next royal was called up for the tedious and time-consuming activity. The faces of the recipients mirrored both pleasure and delight if they had risen, or shame and disgust for those going down in rank.

  Radhya was startled when Lord Barone was called in the six hundreds. He had slipped over two hundred points from his previous place ten years ago. He looked furious, but she felt a shaft of triumph as she waited her turn. She waited anxiously through the five hundreds and four hundreds. When the two hundreds were finished, she was about to inquire if she had been forgotten or had put her information in too early and lost it. Padr reminded her of how much proctors like to be told they were wrong, so she sat back down in the restless sea of humanity.

  The withered old woman on the platform finally called out, “Status 187: Lady Radhya Kirbyson.”

  Stunned, Radhya sat there, and the men prodded her to her feet. They escorted her to the base of the stage. She had to walk from there herself; only royals were allowed on the platform that day. She solemnly accepted her medallion and had her comp adjusted. With all the dignity she could muster, she returned to her guards, and went grinning to her seat.

  “Amazing,” whispered Will. “No one ever moved so far so fast.”

  “You did it. You deserve it,” whispered Max.

  Clasping her arm, Padr murmured, “You are an astonishing woman.”

  The ceremony ended with Princess Felina, Prince Phlip, Queen Chas and King Smon. The proctors left the stage and Lord Grant, the mediator, called any other business. Radhya shot to her feet pulse pounding.

  “We recognize Lady Krin of Jabin’s World,” Lord Grant announced.

  The delicate, red-haired Krin made her way forward to the platform. Radhya sank to her chair with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  “I am gratified,” began the tiny beauty, “to supervise the contracting this day, of my very good friend, Lord Barone, to a woman who had the most unbelievable rise in status we have ever seen in the aristocracy, Lady Kirbyson. Please, both of you come on up here.”

  Someone must have pushed the dress button, for suddenly Radhya was clothed in the holo gown. Fury pounded through every vein in her body. She stormed to the stage and fairly flew up the stairs. The bodyguards had to scramble to follow.

  “Lady Krin, I had a contract to contract, but only if my status did not exceed his. I believe I now exceed him by over five hundred points.”

  Radhya’s voice was picked up by the omni mikes on stage and broadcast to the entire room. The aristocrats tittered and murmured among themselves as Lord Barone slithered up beside her.

  Noel held out his document for inspection. The proctors returned to the stage to inspect the record. The clause Radhya had insisted on was no longer there. “I have witnesses who saw the missing part and who heard from me that I would not sign without the status rider being present.”

  “It is not here now. And you will contract with me or lose all status and be reduced to slavery. A shame since you moved so far up the ranks,” Barone sneered at her, all pretense of love forgotten.

  “I will never contract with you. I will die first. You told me with your own mouth this contract was only to get my possessions and patents. I personally hate the sight of you.”

  “You will contract with me,” Barone stated.

  The royals in the audience were watching the altercation with rapt attention.

  Nerves worn raw by the tension of the review and now abraded further by this odious Lord, Radhya screamed at the man in red, “I would rather be dead.”

  “I can arrange that,” he snapped back.

  Lord Barone gestured to the crowd of fascinated aristocrats. Jabin stood and aimed a device at the stage causing the holo dress to explode into a pyrotechnic lightening display. Radhya toppled backward. An ululating scream tore from her throat. Pinwheeling from the stage to the dance floor, her body arched into a convulsion as the horrified aristocrats retreated from her in revulsion.

  Dave plowed through the fleeing crowds. Padr, Will, and Max stood at her side.

  “Don’t touch her!” yelled Max’s arms spread wide, “you’ll be caught in the electrical field too.”

  “She’s dying!” shouted Will.

  Padr grasped both of them by the shoulders.

  “The bond,” he insisted.

  They joined in pouring strength and healing into Radhya’s convulsing body. Dave reached her. He grabbed the ring about her throat. He let go with an epithet. Glancing at the blisters on his hand, he seized it again. Muscles bulging he tore the metal from her throat. The sparks lessened. He ripped the hair band away. His hands were scorching and blackening, the odor of burning flesh filled the ballroom. He extracted one wrist from its metal circle. His mangled hands could barely function, but he used what remained of his hands and his great strength and severed the final piece of metal.

  Radhya lay panting on the floor. Her three guards collapsed back against the platform and slid slowly to the floor, exhausted. Kung and Singha, lips pulled back, stood guard over Radhya’s prone body. Dave curled into a fetal position; the smoking charred stumps of his hands held gingerly before his chest. Soft moans of pain escaped his tightly clamped lips.

  Lord Barone leapt lightly from the platform as Lord Jabin waddled his way through the stunned crowds to stand beside him.

  “I claim Lady Kirbyson’s lands and estates and assets by reason of the contract to contract as yet unfulfilled,” Lord Barone spoke in a ringing voice, but the omni mike could
not pick up his voice from the floor.

  “I deny your right,” Radhya hurled back. “I give complaint against you for attempted murder; mutilation and pain caused to my bodyguards and myself!”

  She rose from the floor like a resurrection from the burning depths of hell, unsinged, her black robes falling in charred flakes from her body. Padr struggled weakly forward. He removed his tunic and draped it around her naked body. Her grey eyes sent a message into his blue ones, reinforced by the wash of gratitude down the bond. Jabin, gone shock white, backed against the stage, only the solid structure keeping him on his feet. Murmurs and exclamations rose from the crowd. Many pointed or moved closer to hear the action.

  “Your brain at least must be fried. There is no way a human body can endure current like that,” stated Noel unbelievingly.

  “I wasn’t alone. Distribute the current among four bodies and each individual carries only one-quarter of the load,” she told him.

  Turning to the crowd, she spoke, “I had a grand speech prepared, all about our declining birth rates, birth defects and the problems of our society. I think you can see by this what our moral standards have led us to. We are a bunch of selfish, spoiled, adult children. We use others as slaves. I feel this is morally wrong, but, further, we mistreat them when they are in that position. The only way we can dig ourselves from the morass of moral decay we are all in, is to make positive changes to our institutions, starting with that of slavery. I propose a bill of rights for slaves, requiring they be given sufficient food, clothing, and shelter. That it be illegal to discard or kill them when they become ill or old. That it be illegal to sell children away from their parents before the age of sixteen years. That they have the right to decent medical care. It needs to be illegal to torture people for amusement. I demand these rights as the first step to saving our society.”

  Rory, in his secret chamber, set the huge, hidden incarceration machine into action. The windows on the ocean darkened as the shield rose over them. Ventilators kicked in as the building sealed itself. The royals began to murmur and call out inquiries. Radhya ignored them for the minute. She looked at Jabin. There was a rictus of fear on his face as he tried moving sideways to avoid her. Radhya looked at Singha crouching on the floor beside her. She moved a little finger and indicated Jabin.

  Singha crept around one side. Kung took the other. A thin warbling scream trembled from Jabin’s throat. He attempted to run; exactly the wrong strategy. He made two steps before Kung hamstrung him. Singha leapt on his back, biting his neck. The blood fountained. She put a muscular paw around his throat and then she efficiently broke his neck.

  “You all saw him push the button to kill me. Justice is done. Any complaint?” demanded Radhya.

  Some of the royals were gathering their lynxcats, and others were talking to their bodyguards. The soft voices had grown to loud complaints. Radhya pointed to the walls, now lined with her trained guards, all armed with tazers, chemical sprays, billy sticks and less obvious weapons.

  “What is going on here?”

  “You killed Jabin; he deserved it, but let us go!”

  “What are you going to do with us?”

  “Why are we being held here?”

  “Let us go!”

  The crowd was becoming unruly, restive, and growing angry. Radhya gestured to Rory. A spray hissed down from the ceiling. The royals pushed and shoved to get away, but there was no longer any exit. Their bodyguards inhaled the vapor, which reacted with the chemicals from the food they had eaten and slowly slumped to the floor, fast asleep. Most of the aristocrats sat down on their chairs. Radhya climbed up to the platform where the mikes could distribute her voice to the entire audience.

  As she gazed over the people, her eyes lit on a group at the front, her brother and Lady Kemmira with Lord Jambawe, Lady Simms and Lady Clarke. They were smiling and gesturing for her to continue. Heartened Radhya did so.

  “For your information, I intend to hold you all hostages until these matters are resolved to my satisfaction,” Radhya spoke loudly to the stunned people.

  She jumped off the platform and went to Dave. Will was finished giving him first aid and painkillers. Radhya returned strength down the bond to all her men. Working together, they hauled Dave through the now quiet crowd, to the lift, taking him to Radhya’s room. Will treated him with one of Radhya’s special preparations and they watched as new skin covered the raw flesh of his stumps. Dave gazed despondently at where his hands used to be. Radhya put her hands on his shoulders and looked into his eyes.

  “Milady,” he began with tears in his voice.

  “Don’t worry Dave. I don’t let a slave suffer for saving me, and you did. Our strength was almost exhausted. You saved everything.”

  She took a green paste from the bathroom. Donning gloves, she smeared it everywhere Dave had damage.

  “This is going to itch like mad, but you mustn’t touch or scratch,” she told him.

  “Unbelievable!” exclaimed Will as within minutes new fingers began to grow.

  “It isn’t an alteration of the genetic code,” explained Radhya. “It merely stimulates the RNA to cause the flesh and bone to regrow, at an accelerated rate. You’ll be absolutely starving very soon, so I’ll send Jemelina up to spoon feed you. You can’t touch anything until it’s finished.”

  Radhya hugged each of her companions in turn. Then she quietly retired to the bathroom. A few hours later, dressed in a sea green gown, and accompanied by her bodyguards, she rejoined the churning caldron of aristocrats.

  Her guards had circulated among the people and removed the sleeping bodyguards. They were laid out in a separate, locked room. The royals were once again talking themselves into a state of agitation.

  The evening meal was simple; soup, bread, and fruit. The royals, for the most part, ate in stunned silence or sullen anger. The room was dark and enclosed. A few complained to their closest neighbors in hushed tones. Most of them kept glancing at Lady Death seated at the head table with the royal family. The King, Queen, and Prince were silent. Princess Felina bubbled on, happier than Radhya had ever seen her. Padr, Max, and Will sat at the table with them causing curious looks.

  When the brief meal was over, Radhya led the way to the ballroom where she ascended the stage. Gradually the floor filled with aristocrats, a restless sea of faces.

  Glancing behind her at her bond mates she began, “First, don’t try to attack me with your lynxcats. Singha is their mother, and I am hers. I am sure you all know how firmly bonded these little darlings become.” Radhya stroked Singha’s head at her knee. “There is not one here who will disobey their mother.” A few royals checked sheepishly around. “You had a simple meal. To a slave, a meal like that would be pure luxury. I spoke earlier about the bill of rights for slaves. I had circulated a rough draft copy asking for any suggestions. The only ones I received were all along the lines of burn it, or put it in a spot I won’t mention. That being the case, I am going to ask the proctors to take a count now of in favor and opposed.”

  Radhya seated herself on a chair on the platform, between Will and Padr. She grasped Padr’s hand and held on tightly. The proctors passed among the peers recording votes. In a surprisingly short time, the eldest brought Radhya a strip of paper, then left. She rose and went to the front.

  “Apparently, you people don’t get it. We have 42% for and 51% against, and 6% have no opinion,” Taking a breath Radhya continued. “Empathy was once defined as your pain in my heart. It seems an emotion rarely practiced in this day and age. Many of you regard slaves as nonhuman, no more endowed with life than the robe you wear or a table you eat from. Empathy seems to be forgotten. Yet all of you complain at a simple meal, resent being enclosed, unable to go where you want, when you want. This metal enclosing us is special. There is no way to break in or out. Even an attack from space would destroy all of you in here before it would melt or cut the metal. So listen well to me, I have something important to get across to you. I was helped to form empat
hic bonds with three of my slaves. That bond helped me to survive the attack you witnessed earlier today. It ensures excellent health for my selifla and myself. We will live, barring murder and accident, about three hundred and fifty years. We never have to feel alone again. Don’t you think empathy deserves a second look? So, for your edification, I am going to introduce the Chandran fathers. They are going to give you a small, very small taste of empathy.”

  A little servant’s side door opened at her command. The lights dimmed. Ducking under the low opening, twenty-five Chandran fathers entered the ballroom. The crowds drew back in fear, gazing at the strangers with widened eyes as the aliens spread through the room. Behind them limped and tottered twenty-five, much-abused slaves Stane had flown in that morning from Jabin’s amusement pits. One slave went with each Chandran. The slaves were pitiable wretches, starving, lame, covered with sores and fresh lash marks. The Chandrans enfolded an aristocrat in their arms along with one of the slaves.

  Radhya retreated to her chair again as the fathers worked their way through the room. Squirming through the crowd, many royals tried to avoid the aliens. Those they took first. Others fought initially, but the superior strength prevailed. Some were released quickly; others took a long time. Radhya fell asleep, her head pillowed on Padr’s shoulder. Will and Max, Kung and Singha kept watch. Well into the night, Will shook her gently.

  “This part’s over. Good luck,” he whispered.

  Radhya twisted her stiff neck and made her way to the front of the platform. She looked over the silent crowd of pampered people. Without exception, every face showed signs of shock. Some of them seemed barely able to stand upright.

  “The proctors will pass and take a second vote,” Radhya croaked.

  Radhya returned to her seat. This vote was even swifter than the last. Radhya looked at the strip of paper. Her brows rose.