by M J Dees
“You get on with the President, Sevan,” said Ron. “See if you can communicate with it.”
“It’s not exactly like the President,” said Ayttho.
“Why do I have to communicate with it?” Sevan backed away from the screen.
“It looks like it’s trying to communicate,” said Ayttho.
“Use the terminals, Sevan.” Said Ron.
Sevan attached the terminals to his antennae.
“Who are you?” Sevan asked.
“You’ve upset it,” said Ron.
“The signal’s fading,” said Ayttho.
The screen crackled and went blank.
“It’s gone.” Ron was disappointed.
“Are you okay, Sevan?” Asked Ayttho. “You look a paler shade of turquoise than normal.”
“It looked like the President,” said Ron.
“As much as you look like a navigation computer,” said Sevan, starting to remove the terminals from his antennae.
“That’s the third time we’ve lost the signal,” Ron complained.
“I’ve got an unpleasant feeling about this,” said Sevan. “Ozli has been telling me about rumours of other galactic regions hatching plans to reclaim territories they lost to the Republic.”
“And how does he know who is hatching plans about who?” Ayttho was cynical.
“He is the President’s nephew.”
The screen crackled to life once more.
“Here it is again,” said Sevan, hurriedly replacing the terminals on his antennae. “Speak to me.”
“It’s not speaking,” it was Ron’s turn to state the obvious.
The screen went blank.
“It was definitely a ball of gas,” said Ayttho.
“I’ll ask Ozli to come and see if he can communicate with it,” said Sevan. “In the name of the Giant Cup, I’m late!”
Sevan began ripping the terminals from his antennae.
“Ozli invited me to a function. The president and Ozli’s mother, they’ll be there. There will be lots of important dignitaries. I’ve got to go.”
Sevan ran off the bridge, through the corridors and down the gangplank of the Mastery of the Stars into the hangar where he could see two Republic guards approaching the ship.
“Sevan?” one guard asked as he drew closer.
Sevan nodded.
“Follow us, Ozli sent us to take you to the ceremony.”
Sevan followed them onto a shuttle. When he had been Chief Council Member on The Doomed Planet, he thought his shuttle had been the most luxurious he had ever seen, but this presidential shuttle completely eclipsed his in terms of elegance and comfort.
“Is there any...” Sevan didn’t have to finish his sentence. One of the shuttle staff opened a cupboard and took out a bottle of the substance Sevan hadn’t even needed to ask for, his favourite drink, pish.
The staff member gestured for Sevan to sit in a comfortable chair and then handed him an enormous cup filled with the scarlet liquid. Sevan drank three before the shuttle arrived at the presidential palace.
As he disembarked from the shuttle, Sevan saw that Ozli was waiting for him, in his special vehicle which protected his gaseous form from diffusing into the atmosphere.
“Sorry I’m late,” said Sevan.
“Don’t be silly,” Ozli spoke through his vehicle. “You are right on time, let’s go.”
Sevan followed Ozli’s vehicle along a huge hallway which led to an enormous hall. A smell reminded Sevan of the first time he had seen the President. That seemed a very long time ago now.
At the far end of the hall, Sevan could see the President, a larger ball of gas inside a contraption which looked like a bigger version of Ozli’s vehicle. Another, smaller, contraption connected to it containing a similar, though smaller ball of gas.
“My mother,” Ozli said with pride.
A variety of strange beings dotted around the hall whom Sevan assumed must have been the dignitaries Ozli had told him about. There was a musical sound which resonated around the hall and the gathering fell silent.
“Ozli,” the President called out through his contraption. “Come forward and bring your friend.”
Ozli moved forward, but only a little, Sevan also stepped forward to stay alongside him.
“We grieve for your begetter, Ozli,” the President continued.
“He’s speaking about the death of what you would call my father,” Ozli quietly explained to Sevan.
“And yet, the time for sorrow cannot go on forever, so what better sign for a renewal of our joy than my union with your co-begetter.”
"What does he mean?" Sevan whispered.
"He's, what you call, married my Mother."
"So father is begetter and mother is co-begetter, that's sexist isn't it?"
"This is not the time to discuss this," Ovid hissed.
"But even this joy must be short lived," the President resumed. "Because we have intelligence that those who lost territory to the Republic under the previous regime are now minded to take back these regions. They perhaps think the Republic's recent struggles with the Corporation might have weakened it. Therefore, I have decided to send ambassadors to these regions in the hope that they may prevent such attacks."
Sevan noticed three vehicles like Ozli's to the side of the President.
"Who are they?" Sevan whispered.
"That's Kellen Kader," said Ozli. "The President's adviser. Next to him is his son Fenris Kader, and next to him is Zarah Kader, his daughter."
Sevan sensed a change in the tone of Ozli's voice.
"You like her, don't you?"
"Don't be silly."
"You do, you like her. Let's have a chat."
"Shhh, you're embarrassing me."
“I bet she likes you. She’s looking this way.”
“How do you know?”
“Yeah! You’re right, I don’t know where she’s looking, she’s a ball of gas, but her vehicle seems to point slightly this way.”
“Yes, it does, doesn't it?”
"Let's go," said Sevan, leading Ozli towards the front of the hall. "What do I have to do to get a cup of pish around here?"
Ozli's vehicle emitted a signal, and a waiter rushed over with a cup of pish which he handed to Sevan.
"Wow, that's impressive," said Sevan, before taking a large gulp. "In the name of the Giant Cup, that is good pish."
"Sevan! Stop! Wait here," Ozli hissed.
"What? What is it? She likes you, you like her, you only live once, Ozli."
Ozli didn't move.
"Oh, I see. You two have a history. Tell me all about it."
"Not right now, Sevan."
Sevan did not pursue the matter because, just as he was about to probe Ozli further, the President spoke once more.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
M J Dees is the author of five novels ranging from psychological thrillers, to dystopia, to historical to humourous fiction, as well as the Mastery of the Stars sci-fi novella series. He makes his online home atwww.mjdees.com/. You can connect with M J on Twitter at@mjdeeswriter, on Facebook atwww.facebook.com/mjdeeswriter and send him an email at [email protected] if the mood strikes you.
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DEDICATION
To Ray Bradbury, Aldus Huxley, Rob Grant, Doug Naylor, all the writers for Dr Who over the years and all the other great science fiction writers too numerous to mention who have made this genre as great as it is.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I am indebted to the following for their help. My beta reading team, especially Peggy Coppolo, Chris Wells and Shirley McAllister and my advance review team.
COPYRIGHT
First published in 2019 by M J Dees
E-book first published in 2019 by M J Dees
Copyright M J Dees 2019
The moral right of M J Dees to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All the characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor to be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Cover Design by James, GoOnWrite.com
