by Ian Cannon
Viceroy Olan pointed a slow finger at Tawny. It was long, menacing. “Is she Raylon?”
Ben closed his eyes. Their secret was out. It must have been her Raylon red hair, or her slightly rounded accent, or perhaps her gleefully bad attitude—all Raylon. He said, “Yes, she is.”
“She is part of the Cabal! What is she doing here?” cried one of the panel members.
“Last I checked, she was retrieving your kidnapped heiress,” Ben said logically, in her defense.
The council calmed. Everything settled, except the tension.
Viceroy Olan finally said, “She cannot enter the palace.”
Ben clapped his hands together allowing for some brevity in the room. “Right. Understood. We think that’s a great idea. Hey, thanks for everything, it was nice doing business with everyone. We’ll just see ourselves back to our…”
“Hold!” Viceroy Olan called. He lifted a communicator to his mouth. Someone was speaking.
Ben leaned forward, couldn’t make out the words. His gaze drifted over to Tawny. She mouthed the word, “Sorry.” He shrugged back at her.
Olan lowered the comm device. “You will follow your escort.”
“Where to?” Ben asked.
“You will follow your escort.”
“Okay.”
The escort turned out to be a pair of Orbin royal chaperons, each dressed identically in shoulder to floor gowns—very sliming for narrow, seven foot tall creatures—and visorless helms, topped with massive, fine-feathered crests. They strode like proud Molosian peacocks leading the way, until they reached a drop ship. Tawny and Ben lowered into the small main hold with their ever-present chaperons, where an Orbinii male sat awaiting them. He was dressed in contemporary sytle with dress clothes, a jacket and even a tie of sorts. The man said without shaking hands, without so much as changing his facial expression, “I am O’aba, King Oto’s planetary emissary. I am here to escort you to the palace.”
Tawny and Ben switched a look.
O’aba continued. “You are about to be in the presence of the supreme. Act accordingly and you will be treated as such. Because you were not invited ahead of time, your current dress will be sufficient for meeting the great King Oto, and afterwards you will be escorted to your palace suite where you will be provided more appropriate dress.”
“King Oto?” Ben asked.
The man nodded his head.
“Okay.”
Up front, a single pilot detached the drop ship from the orbiter and lowered them gently through the atmosphere. They felt the bounce and sway of a tumultuous sky before the view opened up to the Orbin world twenty thousand feet below. It was a magnificent world, shattered by mountain ranges and endless flatlands. They zipped over a mammoth ridge of peaks opening a view to an ocean sparkling with yellows and brass, and stretching toward the horizon. Orbin had an abundance of molecular aurum, the solar system’s natural deposit of gold, causing its seething color of beauty.
They approached the palace compound and swiveled around. The building was a collection of tall skyscrapers, each rounded at varying heights built into a mountainside. Endless water falls cascaded between the structures adding a euphoric grace to the entire vista.
The drop ship landed and O’aba led them out onto a golden grassy tarmac with the escorts in tow. Two, single file rows of palace guards awaited them, bringing them to the steps of the palace, a broad stone stairway leading up to an open reception space. There, the king and his queen stood looking powerfully down at them. The king made a subtle nod and the palace guards quarter turned, a thunder of boots snapping to. He held out his hand and the chaperons began ascending the steps, leading Tawny and Ben up and up.
O’aba said, “You will bow upon introduction. You will speak only when spoken to. You will make only brief eye contact, and only during an exchange of words.” He paused and turned to Tawny and said, “And you will stand only behind me.”
They arrived at the top of the steps. The king was tall, handsome with his bluish tones, dressed in an oddly simplistic formal wear stitched with embroidery. The queen on the other hand, wore a layered gown and large collared headpiece. It was an impressive show.
O’aba said with his eyes to the floor, “Your royal highnesses, may I introduce Mr. and Mrs. Dash of the Guild.” He gave a flourishing gesture to Tawny and Ben in introduction. They each bowed at the head looking as comfortable as a porcupine in a Molosian tar pit.
The king eyed his visitors. He moved to Ben standing before him and put both hands on his shoulders. “You have the thanks of a grateful world, a grateful people and a grateful king for the return of their heiress.” He scanned his gaze to Tawny. “Both of you. Now, if you would, come.”
They entered a massive cathedral-style lobby shimmering with oranges and yellows. The Orbinii did nothing small. They went to a chamber door where the king turned to address his guests, specifically Ben. “I would like to speak to you, alone.”
He looked at Tawny, said, “Your gracious graciousness and royal king,” he tripped over his own words. “I don’t go anywhere without my wife. And I don’t keep anything from her. Not one thing.”
O’aba insisted, “No Raylon has ever set foot on the palace steps, nor entered these doors.”
“She’s an independent. Every planet has independents, even Orbin.” He looked at the king and said, “And, she’s my wife.” He offered a tiny bow.
“Raylon is still under Cabal influence,” O’aba said.
“She’s not,” Ben said. He could feel his wife basking in her own unwelcome. She was strangely comfortable, almost gloating.
“Let me ask,” the king said. “Is she a defector?”
Ben frowned. “We don’t get involved in interplanetary issues—politics and that kind of thing. She was free to leave her homeworld. So she left.”
A voice boomed from the far end of the lobby, “Ha!”
They all looked over. An Orbin moved toward them powerfully. He was clearly military, dressed in ceremonial armor with a half cape flowing behind. “Free to leave. Fleeing for one’s life hardly implies a freedom to leave.”
The king took a big breath and said, “This is General Ona’Oona. I must warn you, you will not meet with any degree of candor where the Cabal is concerned.”
Tawny stiffened.
The man stopped before them, his large, round eyes never leaving Tawny. “Anyone seeking freedom from Raylon does so with their life at stake. Or any Underworld planet for that matter.”
Ben cleared his throat. “If that’s true, then she’s more an ally than most.”
Ona’Oona offered the characteristic Orbin snuffle at that.
The king put his hand on Ben’s shoulder and stepped to the side with him. “Forget politics, forget the war. You are of the Contingent. She is a member of the Underworld Cabal. These are facts. How is it possible that you two have come together as man and wife?” his question smacked of curiosity, not accusation or judgment.
“We make it possible,” Ben said, frankly.
General Ona’Oona snarled, “We do not allow red-hairs of Raylon in the palace, much less the antechamber of kings.” His gaze narrowed on Ben, his eyes becoming slits. “Your acquaintance with her makes you a suspect of the Orbin state.”
Ben forced a grin and said, “Yeah, I completely get that. Look, we have no intentions of interfering with protocol. We thank the royal court and all, and this...” he let out a whistle, “is one heck of a house you got here, but maybe it’s best if we just shoved off, what do you say?”
“No,” the king snapped. He turned, paced, turned back. “What you did for my family creates the ties that bind.” He took a breath and said, “I would be honored to have you—both of you—join the royal dinner this evening to celebrate the safe return of our junior matriarch.”
“Your Royalty!” Ona’Oona said. “I advise against that. How will it look, a Raylon at the royal table.”
The king said simply, “It will look like a Raylon at the royal table.”
>
Ben laughed nervously, said, “Uh, your Royalty, I hope you don’t take any offense if I decline your offer. It’s very gracious, but there’s no need to stir the pot.”
“Stir the pot?”
“Oh, it’s a saying. We say that on Golotha. Stir the pot—it means kick the hornet’s nest.”
“Kick the…”
“Hornet’s nest. We don’t want to make any inconvenience, is all.”
The king nodded, considering his words. “Give me a moment with my advisor.” He led Ona’Oona into the antechamber. Ben looked in as the doors were closing. The king was already conversing, pointing a finger and talking fast. He had a point to make, and Ona’Oona was listening grimly, nodding his head, frowning, arms crossed, and then he started to speak in return, but the door closed and Ben couldn’t see what happened next.
“Huh…” he said.
“You pass up dinner with the royal court on Orbin for me?”
He turned around to see Tawny smirking up at him.
“I’m flattered, Mr. Dash,” she said.
“Oh, stop it.”
She walked around him in a circle, chiding. “No Orbin brown sauce on Orbin pork flank with Orbin pine relish?”
“Love, I said stop it,” he warned.
“No Orbin fruit curd or Orbin sugar pastries?”
“Tawny!”
She giggled and said, “I love you more and more, Mr. Dash.”
They stood in long silence, staring at the door to the king’s chamber. Several seconds went by. Ben finally admitted, “Makes me fart.”
She gave a hearty laugh.
The antechamber door shoved open and King Oto stepped back out. He strode to them and stopped. “No one has ever declined an invitation to sit at the royal table.”
Ben gestured with his hands. “Like you said, sir. The ties that bind.”
“Then there will be no offense. We accept your request to dine.”
“Uh, but, wait a minute…”
“Your chaperons will show you to your palace suite. There, you will freshen up, and afterwards, you will join me in the palace hall for dinner. We dine at seven evening time.” King Oto nodded and the royal entourage moved away down the hall before either of them could respond. Ben gave Tawny a well-that’s-that look, and followed their escort, moving in the opposite direction.
The palace suite turned out to be a palatial apartment unit with a recessed sleeping area, a bed designed to house the much longer Orbinii, a huge stone balcony overlooking a water fall from across a vast drop off with the golden ocean crashing against a mountain shore far below. It was beautiful, soiled only by their tenuous welcome.
Their chaperons had apparently decided not to guard the outside of their apartment, but rather stand guarding the inside. They stood to either side of the large door looking in. How awkward.
Ben went to his wife giving her a vague, apologetic stare, put his arms around her and pulled her toward him giving her a long, intimate kiss. Once her confusion slid away, she reciprocated. The kiss was a particularly loud one—lots of slurping and smacking that turned to moans and purrs. Lots of tongue, too. It was visible and shimmery. When they parted and looked over, the chaperons were gone.
She chuckled and said, “Tell me you’re not just teasing me.”
He gave her a notion to wait a second and hailed REX, pacing briskly back and forth across the stone floor. REX said, “What’s up, Cap?”
“You tell me, REX. How are things?”
“Boring. I’m just sitting here.”
Ben stopped pacing a moment. No news was probably good news. Then REX said, “Well, there is one thing.”
He groaned, “What’s that?”
“They’ve tethered me.”
“Oh great,” he said, pacing again. “What’s it look like?”
“Mag straps. We’re locked down. There’s no leaving until they let us leave.”
“Okay, well—see what you can do.”
“Uhh—I just said, there’s nothing I can do.”
“There’s always something, REX. I have faith. Out.”
“Oh, well thanks a—”
He ended the transmission and shared a thin look with his wife, both sighing uncomfortably at the same time. Ben looked over at the entrance. The chaperons had not returned, obviously standing outside the door. He looked back at his wife. “I don’t fully know what to expect out there, but I figured the less you say to them, the more they won’t snort and snuffle. It would probably be best just to say nothing at all.”
She looked at him, challenged. “Oh you do?”
“Don’t you?”
She gave him a cross look.
“Truth?” he said.
She grimaced, said, “Truth.”
“You fought against the Orbinii. You fought for the Underworlders. If they knew half of what you’ve done, well, the roof on this palace isn’t high enough, know what I mean? Now you’re about to sit down to dinner with their royal party?”
She huffed. “Babe, I’m not going to assassinate any royal Orbinii today.”
“No, it’s not that. I just—I know how you are. These people are politicians, Tawny. They’re ideologues. They’re going to talk. They’re going to say things you won’t like.”
She put a hand on her hip. “And you think I’m going to pop off and go blah blah blah. Is that it?”
“Yeah, exactly. That’s exactly it.”
“And what gives you that idea?”
He laughed uproariously, defensively, and said, “Uhh—how about that time on Triggo Four when you beat up half the bar because someone said that thing about Pendulosi chicks looking like Molosian pugs.”
“Oh please.”
“And that time you went off ranting about the Cabal-god for twenty minutes in front of those lunar aristocrat kids.”
“Hey,” she said leading with a finger, “that kid was waaay out of line.”
“Tawny, that kid was four years old. You traumatized them. And how about that time on Cedillas when you called that judge a narse-headed little—”
“Alright, okay!” she shouted. “I’ll keep it buttoned.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
“Okay.” They looked at each other, Ben appearing the slightest bit apologetic. He said, “Why do I feel like I’m about to punch a king?”
“I don’t know, but you get very sexy when you’re upset.”
His eyes rolled, forcing patience. “I’m not upset.”
“Yes you are.”
“No—I’m not.”
“Yes you are.”
“No, sweetheart, I am not upset, okay?”
“See, right there! Very sexy,” she said with that devil’s grin of hers.
Chapter Four
The royal dining hall was no less spectacular than the rest of the Orbin Royal Palace, an immense room with an oddly articulated table that crawled through the space at differing levels and right angles. A hundred dignitaries and their spouses occupied the space, all dressed in formal wear, all there to catch a glimpse of the honorary hero and his Raylon wife, maybe even share a word or two.
Viceroy Olan made an appearance with what Tawny and Ben assumed was his wife. She had the blue skin of the Orbin, and as it seemed standard, she bore a single tuft of hair grown from the very back of her skull falling down to her lower back. She was an extremely pretty female. But blue.
Feelings were mixed at the table and dialogs were shared by everyone in attendance, some gratuitous and heated but most in politeness, whether disparaging or otherwise.
As Ben looked around marveling at the sight, he wondered if he shouldn’t have doubled the price given such pomp and circumstance. Still, a million yield bits was a beautiful take—not enough to make a man and his wife rich, but certainly enough to eat off of for an indefinite period. Speaking of that wife, he kept giving Tawny glances. They were subtle, but meaningful, as he continuously tried to read her. From time to time, he’d touch her le
g or brush his knuckles across her forearm just to remind her of his presence, let her feel his support.
As for Tawny, every moment was a chance to smile, nod, mention a note of gratitude—or otherwise. She couldn’t help but put her internal alarms on overdrive. She’d fought these people, gone into combat against the Orbin forces in a war that still raged hot throughout the solar twin system. She had to wonder if the words of thanks that flittered her way were of a noble genuflection, or shadowed grins from a hateful bunch.
And then the food came.
It was a feast like neither Tawny nor Ben had ever seen. They were showered with spiced meats, great dishes of shimmering flesh sliced and filleted and left steaming in an orgasmic aroma of delicacy, sweet indigenous vegetables, steaming pots of soup, varieties of side dishes from Orbin pastas and bean salads, to shell fish from a golden ocean, all served on the silent whisk of automated grav bots busying about. They ate like they hadn’t eaten … ever.
The dinner wound down after dessert was served, each member of the royal entourage choosing from sweet custards, moist pastries, dishes of Orbin ice cream or simpler delicacies—either candied bits or cookies.
And the whole time, General Ona’Oona rarely took his eyes from Tawny, as if he glared at her with a combined sense of distrust and bigotry, the monster of his paranoia constantly lurking behind his large, expressionless eyes.
The different factions of the entourage began dismissing themselves, shuffling off into the reception area through a long sky bridge that would take them to the far side of the palace complex. Tawny and Ben looked at each other, their bellies utterly satisfied, both betraying the want to return to their vessel. Ben nodded to her. It was time to dismiss themselves, go home.
King Oto approached gracefully and powerfully. He seemed quite comfortable hovering above his royal party members without the constant shadow of his guards lurking at his sides. But as he approached Tawny the red-haired Raylon, and Ben, here they came—four sleek, handsomely garbed Orbin guardsman not allowing him to get too close to the Raylon guest without their constant presence at hand. Silent killers. Ever-present warriors.
