Galactic Standard Date: 152,323.04 BC
Orbit – Haven-3:
Diplomatic Carrier ‘Prince of Tyre’
Prime Minister Lucifer
Lucifer
“What's wrong, Sire?” Zepar asked.
“Godsdamned migraines,” Lucifer mumbled. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb to dull the pain as he stumbled out of bed. Everything had an eerie halo and he was seeing double. “When are we supposed to meet with that representative from the Tokoloshe Kingdom? I want to get this meeting with the cannibals over with as soon as possible.”
Zepar shifted from one foot to another. His wings twitched in concern.
“What?”
“That meeting happened two weeks ago, Sire,” Zepar said. “We just reached orbit around Haven-3. You're scheduled to address Parliament this afternoon about the budget.”
Lucifer groaned. It had been a long time since he’d had a blackout this bad. The last thing he remembered was arguing with Zepar after leaving 51-Pegasi-4.
“What did I miss?"
“You agreed to cede certain disputed territories to King Barabas in exchange for a reduction of hostilities, Sire,” Zepar said.
The last time he'd cut a deal with the Tokoloshe Kingdom, they had reneged, attacking a Delphinium colony and devouring thousands of innocent civilians. He'd lost 632 brave Centauri kicking the cannibals back off of that world, a number which could never be replaced. What in Hades had he just done?
“Why would I turn civilians over to the cannibals?"
“King Barabas promised not to eat them,” Zepar said. “The colonies are lightly populated. They can relocate to colonies he ceded to us in return. He is only interested in the mineral rights.”
An old familiar feeling of dread seeped through his body. Whenever he had a blackout, he usually found out that he'd been up to things he wouldn't necessarily condone. Twenty-five years. Twenty-five years he'd been free of the accursed memory lapses! Why now, of all times, had they suddenly returned?
“What else was I up to?"
“That was it, Sire,” Zepar said. “You ceded those planets because the Centauri are too thinly spread to police them. You mentioned something about giving them a few worlds they have a hope of defending instead of an impossible mission.”
“That sounds like me.” Lucifer's headache began to fade. “Tell Doctor Halpas to get in here and check out what in Hades is wrong with me. I thought we cured these when we did the surgery?”
Zepar tucked his dirty white wings against his back, the rustle of feathers signaling his discomfort. For an Angelic, Zepar was rather ordinary looking, his bland, off-white coloring enhancing the common misperception he was nothing more than an obsequious lackey. In reality, it was often Zepar who pulled the political strings and kept Lucifer's far-too-busy life on schedule. It had allowed him some leeway when he'd suffered blackouts during the 200 years his father had been absent, but now that his father was back, perhaps he could take some well-earned rest and get his noodle straightened out?
“What?”
“Sire,” Zepar said. “If word gets out you're having blackouts, you'll be forced to resign. Doctor Halpas is obligated to report your condition to the Emperor.”
'Resignation will be the death knell for–all- of the hybrids. You must keep your illness to yourself…'
How could he admit he even had blackouts without jeopardizing his position as Prime Minister? When his father had disappeared, he'd had no choice but to cover them up, but now he was certain the ungrateful old fool was more likely to throw him to the wolves rather than to help him. Hashem had already burned him once. Twice, if you included the trade deal he'd vetoed and forced Lucifer to override. The last thing he wanted with extinction staring his species in the face was to be forced to resign and have one of Emperor’s non-hybrid lackeys put in his place.
“What do you recommend?” Lucifer asked.
“The same thing we did before,” Zepar said. “I'll run some preliminary tests to determine what is wrong with you, and then call in a specialist who is not beholden to the Emperor.”
“Do you think it’s another aneurysm?” Fear clenched at Lucifer's gut. The last time he’d had blackouts lasting this long, he'd needed emergency brain surgery. Zepar had manufactured a ‘leaked’ story about vacationing with a non-humanoid mistress to cover his ass while he'd healed. Lucifer still had migraines, but he usually just slept it off.
“I won’t know until we run some tests,” Zepar said. “I'll do it as soon as you get back from your speech."
Lucifer twirled a long white primary feather, deep in thought. For a political aide, Zepar had a surprising level of genetics knowledge. Lucifer had offered to put in a good word with his father so Zepar could pursue research he was obviously interested in, but Zepar had pooh-poohed the idea, insisting he only dabbled in science as a hobby. Still … Zepar's unexpected ties to some rather unorthodox medical practitioners had saved Lucifer's tailfeathers on more than one occasion, especially when it came to his brain-splitting migraines and the occasional blackout they caused. He had no choice but to trust Zepar's judgment.
“What about the crew?”
“They've been hand-picked for their discretion,” Zepar said. “It’s not like you did anything you were not supposed to be doing. The meeting with the Tokoloshe Kingdom was a pre-scheduled diplomatic mission, we discussed exactly what was on the agenda, and the treaty you negotiated was reasonable. Nobody will know you can’t remember it unless you choose to tell them." Zepar put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
Okay. It's going to be okay. Zepar always made everything okay.
“Let’s keep this thing quiet, then,” Lucifer said. “Hopefully it won’t happen again.”
“Of course, Sire,” Zepar said. “You can always count on me.”
Chapter 44
Sword of the Gods: The Chosen One Page 48
