“Milady, you’ll be basically naked in the sunlight. Perhaps we could do something similar that was less sheer.”
That seemed not good enough to Burke, who had warmed to the power imagery.
“No. The same, or more so. In some premium fabric, perhaps.”
“Gossamer, perhaps. I’ll look, Milady. In the meantime, I think you should see the makeup people about some, uh, depilation work.”
Burke looked back through all those goddess images. None had pubic hair at all, much less hers.
“That’s probably a good idea.”
“And leave the caftan, please, Milady. That would be the easiest way to get measurements.”
Burke went to the makeup artists in the Imperial Residence.
“We’re planning the coronation, and I need some help.”
“Of course, Milady. We can do your face for the ceremony.”
“Yes, well, we have some things we need to consider before that. The coronation dress will be pretty sheer. So we need to worry not just about my face, but pretty much everything.”
“How sheer, Milady?”
“Whatever you might think, more than that. So we need to do some work. Depilation. Whatever else you think.”
“Very well, Milady. Disrobe, please.”
Burke stripped down and the makeup people consulted with each other while examining her.
“Yes, Milady. Depilation, certainly. And we can de-emphasize your nipples. They aren’t that dark compared to the rest of you, but we can make that color difference disappear.”
“That sounds good.”
“The best results with depilation would be now, then again before the ceremony. Are you ready for a session now, Milady?”
Burke checked her appointments schedule. No time like the present.
“Sure. Let’s do it.”
“Very well. This way, Milady.”
They had her lay down on a table under an articulated arm with some sort of widget on the end of it.
“Best would be if you just went into immersive VR and ignored it, Milady.”
Burke did, and walked in the gardens from 51 GE in Amanda Peters’s recording. She could spot some subtle differences now between those gardens and her own version.
They summoned her back halfway through, and had her turn over. She went back into the gardens until the machine was finished.
When they summoned her back the second time, they helped her up from the table. They had rubbed her down with some sort of moisturizer as well, and she was smooth as silk everywhere below the neck. She felt her upper lip. Scratch that below the neck. Her upper lip was smooth, too.
Burke looked at herself in the full-length mirror. Goddess, indeed.
“This looks good. A second session before the ceremony, you say?”
“Yes, Milady.”
“Very well.”
It was at Sunday brunch that Burke and Ardmore popped the question to Claire Diener.
“Claire, we have a question for you.”
“Sure, Jimmy what is it?”
“Claire,” Burke said, “will you bring the crown to the dais during the coronation?”
Claire was struck dumb by the question. She looked to Diener, who nodded.
“I suppose I can. I just carry it out, like in past coronations?”
“Yes,” Burke said. “It would mean so much to us if you did it.”
“Well, OK. I hope I don’t get too nervous.”
“You’ll be fine, Claire,” Burke said. “Just remember to breathe.”
“Good morning, Your Majesties.”
“Good morning, Mr. Moody. We have the assignments for the coronation.”
“Wonderful, Milady.”
“Claire Diener will bring out the crown, Mr. Moody.”
Moody nodded.
“A sensible choice.”
“And we would like you to bring out the crown jewels, Mr. Moody.”
His eyes widened, and he smiled.
“I would be honored to do so, Milady.”
“Then I think you have everyone, Mr. Moody.”
“Yes, Milady.”
The seamstress called her in two weeks after her first trip there.
“We have something we want you to look at, Milady.”
The seamstress took her in and showed her a caftan on a dress form.
“Oh, this is nice. What is it?”
“Chiffon, Milady. We tried gossamer, and we couldn’t get the correct weight to match the effect in the images you sent us. We have more choices of weight in chiffon. We matched what you sent us, but we could go heavier.”
Burke had sent the seamstress the goddess images Ardmore had sent her.
“Let’s try this on.”
“Yes, Milady. Disrobe please.”
Burke shucked out of her MCU and stood on the dressmaker’s stand. The seamstress’s assistants dressed her in the caftan, then stepped aside so she could see.
“It has a bit of a sheen to it, Milady, so it is a bit more concealing at the right angles. I think it’s a pretty good match to the images. As I say, we could go heavier.”
“No. No, this is perfect.”
“Well, you are a bit less, um, obvious than before, Milady.”
“They’re going to tone down my nipples as well, with makeup.”
“Then I think you’ll get the effect you want, Milady.”
“Excellent. This is perfect.”
“You’re sure, Milady? We still have time to do something else.”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“Very well, Milady.
“How are you going to dress for the coronation?” Ardmore asked. “Have you decided?”
“Yes. It’s a surprise. You’ll see.”
And so will everyone else, Burke thought and giggled.
“Will it fit with what I’m going to wear?”
“Oh, yes. It will be perfect.”
The Coronation
Coronations were always on a Friday. Coronation day was an Imperial Holiday, and that gave everyone a three-day weekend.
On Wednesday, there was a rehearsal. This was a walk-through. Everyone did all their parts, with a lot of stage direction. No one was dressed up for this one. Dress rehearsal was Thursday.
On Thursday morning, Burke was in the makeup shop, then the hairdresser’s shop, then the seamstress’s shop. It took three hours to get her ready for the dress rehearsal. It would be even longer tomorrow. She wore a robe over the dress for the trip down to the Throne Room.
When she got down to the Throne Room, she tossed the robe aside and strode out, bold as brass, to the group of players in the celebration being briefed by the director.
She walked up to Ardmore.
“Hi, Jimmy,” she whispered.
Ardmore turned to look at her, and, at his stature, found himself face to face with her breasts.
“Oh, my.”
He pulled back to look at her, and she spun around for him.
“That’s absolutely perfect, Gail. A goddess come down from Olympus to rule mortal man.”
Once General Hargreaves had put the circlet and jewels on her, Burke pulled the string in her hair and her shiny black curls cascaded down her back. The director picked up on the effect of the gown and the hair, and the cameramen started adjusting their camera angles. When they got to her sitting on the Throne, the director called a halt to the action for a moment. He walked up to Burke.
“Milady, when you sit on the Throne, have those belled sleeves hang over the outside of the arms, like this.”
He moved one, then the other from her lap to hanging over the outside of the arms.
“And your hands.... May I, Milady?”
“Yes, of course.”
He moved her hands forward to the ends of the Throne’s arms so her fingers fell over the ends. He adjusted her hands and fingers just so. He stepped back to look.
“Yes, that’s it. That’s perfect. Can you do that, Milady? When His Majesty seats you?”
>
“Yes, I think so.”
“Wonderful. Let’s back up to where he seats you.”
Ardmore and Burke stood, and he seated her once more.
“Perfect, Milady. Once more, and then we’ll keep going.”
The dress rehearsal was done at the correct time of day, so the video people could get their lighting right, and when Burke stood in the sun from the skylights above, the director, watching in VR, muttered to his cameraman, ‘Wow. What a great shot.”
They finished the dress rehearsal, Burke retrieved her robe, and she and Ardmore went upstairs to lunch.
“I guess I’m surprised you decided to go that way, Gail,” Ardmore said. “I like it, mind you, but I’m surprised.”
“After you brought it up, Jimmy, anything else seemed wrong. Not big enough. Or not special enough. Not mythic enough.”
“Yes. Yes, that’s it exactly. Not mythic enough. When people look back at this coronation hundreds of years from now, they will say ‘Arsinoe the Great. She was a goddess.’”
In the Throne Room of the Imperial Palace, on the Palace Mall, in Imperial City, on the planet Center, the capital of the Galactic Empire, the nave was crowded with people anticipating the coronation of the first ruling couple of the Galactic Empire. The crowd spilled out of the Throne Room and well down Palace Mall, where large displays would show the ceremony. People could watch at home, of course, but this way they could say they were there.
Paul Diener stood at the top of the stairs on the threshold of the entrance to the Throne Room of the Imperial Palace, the giant gothic nave at the front of the original palace of the Kings of Sintar. The old palace was long gone, the current palace having replaced it almost seven hundred years ago. But the ancient gothic nave of the original palace had been retained.
The sector governors lined up behind him, down the stairs and down the sidewalk. They weren’t actually here, but were present in VR through the use of VR projectors. They were together in a single VR channel, wherever in the Empire they were, and they were projected here, looking real, looking present. They alone were not physically here. Diener and the crowd were.
At eleven-fifteen, a trumpet fanfare was played, and Diener walked down the center of the enormous nave, filled with people, between the rows of Imperial Guardsmen forming the aisle.
He reached the front of the lines of Guardsmen, to where their lines turned left and right, forming the forward barrier of the crowd. He stopped just in front of them, and the sector governors split and walked out to either side until the line of them, there in front of the Guardsmen, stretched across the nave.
“Not long now,” General Hargreaves said.
They were waiting in the right anteroom off the Throne Room. James Ardmore and Claire Diener were also there.
“Oh, I’m so nervous,” Claire said.
The sixty-year-old woman wrung her hands.
“Claire, look at me,” Ardmore said.
“Yes, Your Majesty.
“Right now, right here, call me Jimmy.”
“Yes, Jimmy.”
“Remember, Claire. Breathe. Come on.”
“Yes, Jimmy.”
Claire took a deep breath and released it slowly.
“Again,” Ardmore said.
“Oh, that’s better. I’ll be OK now, Jimmy.”
Ardmore engulfed her in his powerful arms.
“You’ll be wonderful, Claire. Just relax.”
“Thank you, Jimmy.”
On the other side, Burke was having similar issues.
“Oh, why did I decide to wear this stupid thing? I’m naked, for crying out loud.”
“You look absolutely marvelous, Milady,” Moody said.
Of course, it was his place to say things like that, but he sounded sincere.
“Really?”
“Absolutely, Milady. A great and powerful Empress. The absolute ruler of two and a half quadrillion human beings. Who would dare question you? Don’t shrink from it, revel in it. Shoulders back, head high. Stand there naked and stare down from the heights of your power.”
“A brazen, heathen Empress?”
“No, Milady. A goddess. Really, Milady. You look stunning.”
Burke took a deep breath and let it out slowly. That’s what Ardmore had said. That was the effect she had gone for.
“Right. Goddess mode. Got it.”
At eleven-thirty a trumpet fanfare sounded again, and General Hargreaves entered from the right side door, walked to the dais and up its side steps to the top, and then across to the center. He was wearing the Imperial Marines’ Marine Dress Uniform with the black fourragère of the Imperial Guard. He turned and faced the crowd.
“We are gathered here to witness the coronation of James Philip Ardmore and Gail Anne Burke as the Emperor Ptolemy and the Empress Arsinoe, the first ruling couple of the Galactic Empire.”
A murmur ran through the crowd. There had been widespread speculation as to Ardmore and Burke’s reign names. As Ardmore and Burke had known it would, it had ginned up interest in the coronation even more than normal. The names William and Mary had been mentioned, and even Caesar and Cleopatra or Antony and Cleopatra, but no one had thought of the ancient Greek couple who had ruled Egypt.
At that, Ardmore entered through the right side door as Hargreaves had, and Burke entered from the left side door. They both walked around to the front of the dais, where they met and took hands. They walked up the stairs together, Burke on the left and Ardmore on the right, and knelt on pillows on the floor in front of Hargreaves. Burke was dressed in the scandalously sheer white caftan, barefoot, her glorious mass of tight black curls for the moment trussed up tightly on the top of her head. Ardmore was wearing a simple black tunic over black slacks and black shoes, the better not to take attention away from his beautiful Empress.
Kneeling in front of Hargreaves, they recited, one at a time, the Pledge of the Emperor. Ardmore pledged first, so his pledge would not step on Burke’s memorable recitation.
“I, James Philip Ardmore, pledge to perform the duties and responsibilities of Emperor, wielding authority with compassion, justice with mercy, and power with finesse, for the benefit and well-being of the people of the Galactic Empire and all humanity, now and into the future, until I die.”
“I, Gail Anne Burke, pledge to perform the duties and responsibilities of Empress, wielding authority with compassion, justice with mercy, and power with finesse, for the benefit and well-being of the people of the Galactic Empire and all humanity, now and into the future, until I die.”
At that point, Claire Diener entered the Throne Room from the right side door, carrying a square purple pillow with gold fringe and tassels. On it was a woven gold circlet with a single large blue jewel in the center – the Star of Humanity – and overlain with a gold representation of a laurel wreath. She walked around to the foot of the dais in front, and up the stairs to Ardmore’s right, stopping one step short of the top.
The two portions of the crown – the laurel wreath and the circlet – had been separated. General Hargreaves took the laurel wreath portion of the crown and placed it on Ardmore’s head. He then took the circlet portion of the crown and placed it on Burke’s head.
Edward Moody entered the Throne Room from the left side door, carrying a square purple pillow with gold fringe and tassels. On it was an intricate plastron necklace of gold mounted with blue gemstones, the crown jewels of Sintar. He climbed the steps to Burke’s left, stopping one step short of the top. Hargreaves lifted the necklace from the pillow and clasped it around Burke’s neck.
That done, Burke pulled the string that released her hair, and it fell down over the circlet and the necklace and cascaded far down her back. She shook it out with both hands as she knelt there. Moody and Claire backed down the steps and stood at the foot of the dais opposite each other.
Hargreaves walked to one front corner of the dais and stood facing the couple.
Ardmore rose and stood. He offered a hand to Burke, and
she stood. They walked forward to the Throne together, hand in hand, and mounted the single additional step in front of it. They knelt before the Throne and bowed deeply to it. He kissed the end of the left arm of the Throne, then the right, then she did, left then right.
They stood and turned to face the crowd, bathed in the midday sunlight streaming through the skylights above. Burke’s white caftan all but disappeared, the sunlight reflecting off the curves of her body beneath it. The gold of the crowns and the jewels glinted, and the Star of Humanity on her forehead and the jewels across her breast shone with a blue fire. Ardmore stood stolid, immobile in the sunlight, like a mountain greeting the dawn. Burke stood with her shoulders back, her head high, as if she could command the stars and launch lightning bolts from her fingertips.
Hargreaves called out, “The Emperor Ptolemy and the Empress Arsinoe.”
Hargreaves, Claire Diener, and Moody all went down on one knee and bowed their heads as the trumpets started the Imperial Fanfare. Paul Diener and the sector governors all went down on one knee and bowed their heads, followed by the crowd. The two lines of Imperial Guardsmen, who had been standing at ease, turned toward the Throne and came to attention, then, as one, saluted and held the salute through the fanfare.
When the fanfare was finished, Ardmore held Burke’s hand as she sat down on the Throne. He stood behind her, on the right. Burke stretched her arms out along the arms of the Throne, her fingers curled over the front edges, the belled sleeves hanging over either side. She looked back and forth over the crowd in the nave, head held high, a goddess sitting in judgment.
“Please rise,” Burke said.
At her command, everyone rose, the thousands in the Throne Room and the hundreds of thousands massing all the way down Palace Mall.
Wow. That worked, Burke thought.
“Consul Diener,” Hargreaves called out.
Diener left his position in the center of the sector governors. He approached the dais, climbed the stairs, and knelt on the pillow. He bowed to the Emperor and Empress.
EMPIRE: Renewal Page 27
