Part 2: Soren
Since I heard something about the length of the previous post, this is merely a selection of what I've got now. If you're lost, you either should realize that I have left some parts out that happen between the end of part 1 and this, or you should actually read what I put up before. Cheers!
The street had become darker. Suddenly a loud blast exploded out of the darkness, and Paul-Luc ducked down and covered his head with his arms reflexively. He felt shards of something rain down on him for a second, but after it passed, he stood up, and started looking around, trying to see the cause of the explosion. He saw where the dust was clearing from; it was just an alley across the street. He started to cross to see if he could help anyone down there, but was stopped as someone grabbed his arm. He jerked his head around to see a young woman with bright red hair stopping him from crossing.
“Don’t” she said, quietly, with a glance at the alley. “You don’t want any part of that, trust me.” She shook her head, as if to clear it, and Paul-Luc realized the ringing in his ears: he realized that whoever had used that bomb (or what he now thought was a bomb) had also used sonic refractors to send the sound into higher wavelengths: whoever did this was a professional.
While he was thinking this, the woman quickly looked around. “You had better get out of here. It won’t be too long until the militia arrives and…oh, shivut. They’re already here. Come on,” She started to drag him by the arm as he realized he was hearing sirens, and that that was a bad thing.
He allowed her to drag him a few blocks, before shaking her loose. “Wait a minute,” he said. “Who are you? Why are you doing this? What’s going on?”
“You idiot,” she said. “We can’t stop here. They’re looking for you, and if they find you here you’re in deeper trouble than you could possibly imagine. I’ll tell you everything when we get out of here.”
“But why,” he started, but before he could say anything else she had suddenly grabbed him, pushed him against the wall behind, and locked his mouth in a kiss.
H would have protested, and he moved his hands to push her away, but she grabbed them quickly, and pushed them around her back to make the theatrics look more natural. Then he heard the sirens move towards them, then slow as they passed, and then go roaring off again, towards the explosions, and he remembered how worried he had been that his Uncle had been out to detain him, and the thought kind of hovered in the back of his mind that it might have been a good idea to have stayed in what looked more and more like safe and secure walls, rather than constricting and imprisoning. As soon as the transports had passed, the woman broke away from him to look at where security had gone. She said, “See! Look at how close that was! Do you realize the danger you are in now?” And she had again grabbed him and was pulling him, oddly enough, he was noticing, toward the sound that he had been aiming for before. Wouldn’t that be funny, if she were taking me there, he thought. He was too surprised, confused, and filled with the sense of the ridiculousness of the situation he was in to have any, more coherent thoughts.
They had been running for several minutes when they saw the secutrans vehicles pass them again. This time, there were no sirens, and they were moving much slower. Paul-Luc turned away from the woman and went over to them, joining a small crowd that had gathered to take a gander at the sight.
He peered over the crowd, but almost immediately turned away. Those people…had just been obliterated. They must have been standing right next to the blasts to have been shredded like that, he thought. He wondered at all the training he had been given with the sword, from Rainer and earlier; hell, he thought, I grew up with a sword in my hand. How is that different from using a bomb? I can just kill people one person at a time, rather than in numbers. And he remembered a tall man with a large wound of his own, and he wondered if it was better to die from one cut or a thousand.
The woman was again at his side. “What are you doing?” she hissed. Paul-Luc shook her off.
“Listen, my lady,” he said, letting only the barest hint of sarcasm through his polite shell, “I don’t know who you are, for whom you are working, or why you are so interested in my welfare, for good or bad. But you are fortunate, because at this junction of my life, I do not care. Take me where you are going to take me, or do not, but do not pretend that you are in charge of me, or part of how I decide what I choose to do or not do. You have, for one thing, not given me any particular reason why I should trust you in the least. In fact, if I were more sensible, I probably wouldn’t trust you at all. But, again, it must be your good fortune that you decided to kidnap me today.” He gave her a twisted smile.
“I’m not kidnapping you, you arrogant swine.” She spat, “and your act is certainly not fooling anyone if it’s not fooling me. You want a reason you should trust me? If it hadn’t been for me you would be looking like those poor slitted saps who just passed us by. Would you prefer that, eto? I could leave you right now and let you fend for yourself; would you like that, eto? If not, then shut up and come with me.” She turned from him and started striding down the street, quickly but not unobtrusively. Paul-Luc shook his head, but started to follow, wondering again what he had gotten himself into.
As they moved, (still, Paul-Luc noted, still towards the sound which seemed more and more like music, now that he thought about it), he saw more people who touched his heart. One man was sitting in the stairwell with ragged clothes, coughing a droning, hacking, irregular cough. Hack, hack…hack…hack hack hack. It grated on Paul-Luc’s ears like two rough stones rubbed together.
Then he saw a woman lying on the side of the road, sleeping. Her clothes, looked, if anything, worse than the man’s. Her skin was torn and bruised, and she looked like she had never seen or felt any comfort. Both of these times, he wanted to stop, to see, to do something; but the woman in front did not even glance as she passed them. He thought, why do I keep following her? It can’t possibly be as bad as she says. And yet she sounded so real; wouldn’t someone trying to con me give me a more sugarcoated act.
He wondered at his teachers. Why had they overlooked this part of his education? Surely it was important for a Duke’s son to know whom to trust, and when to trust them. This thought rattled around in his mind for several long minutes, and kept him so preoccupied he almost ran over his…what? Companion? Abductor? Acquaintance? He almost ran over his new friend when she stopped.
“We’re here” she said, unnecessarily. It seemed obvious that this was the place that anyone, going anywhere in Kyrie, would head for. It was…Paul-Luc had trouble coming up with exactly what it was. He would have to guess that it was some kind of…club, perhaps. It was big, filling a big hole in the ground and obviously going many stories underground. The part that was above ground was bright red. Loud music of a kind Paul-Luc couldn’t identify was being blasted out of it. It had a heavy rhythm and an unusual beat.
“Come on,” his new friend said, and started toward the door.
“Wait,” he said, grabbing her arm. “We’re here, and you have to know that I am not stupid enough to walk into a strange building without more than what you have told me. You think you’re in charge, but I will turn around and walk away right here if you don’t fill me in to what is going on.”
She turned her head and exhaled vehemently in exasperation, but seemed to consider his request. He took this opportunity to finally take a good look at her. Her most striking characteristic was her flaming red hair, but now he noticed her pale brown skin and sharp brown eyes. He was also able to notice, now that she was standing still, how small she actually was; before she was so full of energy she had seemed to look at him eye to eye. Considering her now, he reckoned she didn’t even make it to his shoulders. At this point she twisted her head back around to look at him, saying, “Fine, I’ll fill you in.”
She took a breath. “I am Machida. My employer found out about your father’s death, and became interested in you after finding out something about the nature of your recent study, and some of the events that led to your leaving home. He has some information that you may be unaware of regarding the origin of your father’s death, and other information regarding your Uncle, both of which you may be interested in.” She looked at him impatiently.
“Wait a moment,” Paul-Luc stuttered, “…who is your employer?”
“You fool!” she said, grabbing his arm and dragging him again toward the red building. “You don’t think we can be overheard out here? Your Uncle has ears all over this city; how do you think the militia got there so fast? Now come on!”
The doors glided open with a slight ‘woosh’ as Machida swiped a white plastic card across a scanner by the side. Inside it was quite dark, but in a short time Paul-Luc was able to discern some things. He and Machida were standing on a kind of platform high above a large room that held what looked like thousands of people, but he figured that it was actually a trick of the darkness that disguised a few hundred as much more. As he looked down to see the people more clearly, he began to notice that they were all, generally, covered in paint. He asked Machida about this, thinking that she might be calmer now that they had entered this place.
“Yes: they are wearing a kind of reflective paint called ‘glow’ that mixes easily and gives off…pleasurable fumes. As they dance, the paint gets spread around from person to person and creates amazing color patterns that can only be seen well from the floor.” She grabbed his arm again, more gently this time, and motioned that they should go down to the dancers.
As they descended the stairs, Paul-Luc wondered at this set up. What kind of ‘employer’ with the kind of resources he must have in order to know the things he knew sets up shop in a dance club?
On the floor, though, all other thoughts drifted away as he realized that Machida had not been exaggerating. He saw people mingling and touching as they danced, bouncing off of each other and moving and touching each other as they danced very close. But that was not what caught his eye. From this angle, the colors created by the ‘glow’ were…just absolutely stunning. The dance floor was a moving, living painting: growing and stretching in place, twisting and reveling, with colors expanding and contracting as they flowed in and out of various hues, always moving, always keeping to the same pulsing beat.
“Wow,” Paul-Luc said stupidly, but Machida didn’t seem to hear him as she moved right in to the pulsing mass of living color. He began to follow her, but then a whiff of a sudden odor caught his nose and he stopped to breathe it in, fully. It was so fresh, so alive, just like flowers or a day right after it rained, and he couldn’t stop breathing it in, breathing it in.
Machida was long gone, and the crowd had come back together in her wake. Suddenly he was in the middle of the living colors and the living smell, and suddenly he wasn’t thinking again it was good for him to be here and that music was just so much to bear that he could only start to bounce around
and now he wasn’t part of the crowd he had the crowd and was it, he had a thousand hands and fingers and eyes and the colors were not just for him they were seen by all of him all of his bodyness that permeated the room and gave him this chance to revel in notthought not real absolute real in its ness
For a long time it seemed like no time had passed or perhaps that for no time that all times had passed simultaneously like a museum of paintings all at once or a symphony and now bodies that were his bodyness but were not him were coming up and feeling him as he felt them motion on motion on body and bodyness and he was moving and moving and feeling and moving and feeling and moving. It was incredibly and utterly and fantastically unreal in how real it was.
He felt something that was not the bodyness that he was such a part of now. He felt motion that was neither part of himself nor again part of the whole. Then time started to rear its ugly head again. He felt things; some kind of heartbeat…beat…beat, it was so slow, so impossibly slow. Now he was breathing and not taking in the aroma. Breath……breath. Slow.
Machida was pushing him out of the crowd, out of the intoxicating effects of the glow. She was talking, but he still couldn’t understand her, it just seemed like babble. Babbling on and on. He kept trying to resist her but now that he was outside the bodyness he found he had no strength left, none at all. He was far back there, far back to where he was part of the body, part of the whole.
She got him to the edge of the room, and made him sit down. She was absolutely furious. How could he be such an idiot! Hadn’t she warned him about the glow? Why hadn’t he listened, the fool? She looked at him as he began to breathe normally again. He had come so close to losing himself in the crowd. She knew people who had been caught up by the drug and never disconnected from the crowd. They were just so excited to be part of the whole rather than just themselves, which turned out to be more scary than they might have realized, coming in to the world. She bit her lip. She knew how close he had come, she realized, because she had walked that line before.
He began to come around some more. She saw this, and said, “you foolish boy, why didn’t you listen to what I said? Come on, let’s go see my boss. He’s very interested in seeing you.”
“Why?” Paul-Luc asked, groggily. “What did I do?”
“You’ll see.”
More is on it's way!
Part 1: Rainer
Here it goes. I'm rather surprised, actually, how easily and quickly this came to me. It would be nice if the rest comes as easily. But now I'm tired of typing and I need to do some homework.
Part One: Rainier
1.
The silvery ovoid carrier ship docked in silence, its engine boosters dropping off with the mere hint of a hiss as the vessel made its final maneuvers into the dock. Of course it was silence: the vacuum of space made it so. But to some it seemed like the silence was pervading more than just the physical realm.
One passenger sat in the back of the upper deck, still feeling the effects of the hyperspace jump. Most people found that they were unaffected by the jump, especially after a few of them under their belts. But this man, after hundreds of jumps, still felt queasy after each one. Intellectually, he knew it was perfectly safe; the process of breaking down the ship into energy and then threading it through space in the tachyon booster at hyperlight speeds was one that had worked flawlessly for decades. It was true that before the tachyon booster some people had lost their selfness in the long minutes or days between stars, but that was ages ago: nothing had gone wrong for a very long time.
It’s useless, he thought. I’m just trying to delay the inevitable. But, if I could do that, it wouldn’t be inevitable then, would it?
He was hunched over in the form-chair, his eyes closed and his face composed in deep concentration. He was studiously ignoring the hustle of the crew as they prepared the ship for its next journey or perhaps an overhaul. He had noticed some out of place vibration for the jump, but he figured it wouldn’t take long to overhaul a ship that was a mere box with a computer system. He didn’t know, though. He had bigger problems to deal with. Eventually the work slowed down, and soon he was alone on deck. He opened his eyes. Slowly he stood up, and as he started forward, he picked up the black and silver set sword and scabbard that lay by his side.
For the most part the ISJ dock was cold and metallic, completely utilitarian. But three men waited in a room deep within the station that was far more comfortable. One, the youngest of the three, was lying off to the side in a light sleep. The other two sat at the central table. One was tall and thin, and had a metallic emblem on his forehead signifying his noble status. His clothes were rich. The other was about a hand span shorter, and was much more muscular. His face was grossly ordinary, except for a long scar that scrawled across his left cheek. He had used it many times to his advantage: He knew that in a crowd bystanders would often remember the scar and not the person behind it. The two men were quietly talking.
“What news do you think he’ll bring?”
“Nothing but bad news, I’m sure. Still, it will be good to have him here.”
“If he ever gets here. Where the deuce is he, anyway? His ship…”
Both men looked up as the door opened; the boy stayed asleep.
“Rainer!” one of them said, as he jumped up to shake the man’s hand. “I was just saying to the Duke, your ship arrived half an hour ago. Where have you been? We were worried.”
“My sincerest apologies, Althen,” the swordsman said, his rich tenor voice just slightly avoiding sarcasm. He walked over and embraced the shorter man, saying, “It’s been far too long.” He turned and gave a half bow to the other man. “Your Excellency, I’m surprised you’re here to greet such a lowly servant as myself. I’m sure a Duke has many important duties to attend to.”
The Duke smiled. “So I do, Rainer. But they can wait. I am glad to see you are still alive.”
“For now, your Excellency.” Rainer said. “But I’m sure its not just pleasure to see me that brought you off planet. You want to hear my report on Huax.” He laughed softly, and lifted his shirt to show his stomach, which showed a bandage covering what seemed to be a large gash.
“Number 5 gave me a parting gift, you see. He surprised me; I think in a straight fight I could take care of him, but as it was he got the upper hand on me.”
The Duke cleared his throat. “The planet is lost then?”
“Yes, without a doubt.” Rainer said. “The Imperial troops have eliminated all of the rebelling forces on the planet, and have placed a permanent garrison onplanet to discourage any further unrest.” Rainer’s eyes became unfocused as he thought back. “I was out on surveillance with some of the best of the on-planet resistance, and we walked into an ambush. I think they just got lucky in their placement of advance troops.”
“Or else rumors of Number 1’s clairvoyance are true.” Althen muttered. “This is the fourth time we’ve heard of ‘luckiness’ on the part of the imperials. You would think that outnumbering us 20 to 1 and having the allegiance of the best swordsmen in the galaxy would be enough for the Emperor. But he has fortune on his side, too.” Althen shook his head.
“Yes. He does seem to have more than a fair share of luck.” The Duke said, “But you may give his imperial majesty too much credit. We do have one of the best swordsmen in the galaxy on our side, too.” He gestured at Rainer, who gave a wry smile.
“Your Excellency. I believe that Althen is more correct here than your illustrious self. Some of the Imperial Elite Guard are my match. Some have been less skilled with a blade than I. But it still remains that Number 3 and Number 4 are more skilled than I, and that Number 1 and Number 2 are the best swordsmen the galaxy has ever seen, skilled enough to walk into the temple of the Shen-Wu and defeat every single Master within.”
“Yes, Yes, I remember.” The Duke said. “Everyone remembers. That was the day the Emperor ascended the throne, and declared all of the Shen-Wu enemies of the Empire.” He paused for a moment, remembering dark nights of fear accompanying terrible news. He looked up as Rainer continued to speak.
“And they have such allegiance to the Emperor that they no longer go by their names, willing to be known only as numbers.” Rainer said. “This leaves us at rather a difficult point. We don’t really have the ability to defeat them in any way. Popular opinion favors the Empire: many citizens consider the aristocracy outdated and archaic. No offense meant, your Excellency.” The Duke bowed his head.
“I am well aware of it.”
Rainer continued, “We lack both the superior numbers and skill necessary to even consider a lasting, or even an effective opposition. At the rate he’s going, the Emperor will have our forces swept up within three years.” The Duke shook his head.
“We’ve consulted experts. The best prediction is that it will take forty months.” Rainier waved his hand dismissively.
“Either way. We also are faced by the distressing fact that most of the Nobility seem unwilling to oppose him. Only three of the noble houses cling to our cause, and only in secret. It is possible that some of the others are also secretly in motion against the imperial throne, but we have no information to make that assumption. It seems irrelevant anyway; the most obvious next move for the throne, after defeating the rebellion, will be to move against the nobility, so the noble houses will have a war on their hands whether they want it or not.” He stopped his analysis as the Duke stood up and began pacing the room.
“We’ve been fools,” he said. “If only we had countered him, right when his ambitions had been made clear. We might have stopped him, then and there. And now that it’s too late we start spending lives in order to counter him. What a waste.” Pain was evident on his face. Rainier looked at him in a new light. He had assumed this man had merely bankrolled the rebellion in order to gain power for himself. For the first time Rainier saw the real compassion the man had for the people he ruled. For so long we have had rulers, Rainier thought, and still so few learn this lesson. And still how powerful it can be when used properly. Maybe there is still a small hope for the galaxy. He gave a small internal shrug. It was likely that leadership ability wouldn’t count for much very soon.
The Duke sighed. “We shall still continue to help you and your people, Rainier, even if it seems to be useless. We do not know what the future will bring; maybe some more of the nobility will join our cause; perhaps we may even uncover a renegade Shen-Wu Master or two.” He smiled, sardonically, indicating the futility of the hopeful thoughts. Suddenly he brightened with a broad smile. “To more pleasant things: I had nearly forgotten. Rainier, may I introduce my son, the heir to the Dukedom.” He turned, waving his hand majestically.
Althen walked over to the sleeping young man, and shook him gently before looking up at Rainier and smiling pleasantly. “It was all the excitement; he fell asleep just before your ship arrived.” He looked down at the young man, who was slowly coming to full consciousness. He noticed that although the boy had to be only…fifteen, according to the files, he already was gaining his father’s height. He had to be nearly two meters tall and would look down easily on Rainer. He, unlike his father, was growing a beard. He probably wished to look older, and was succeeding. Between his height and his facial hair, he looked to be in his late twenties. The young man blinked over his grey eyes (his father’s, Rainer thought, though he had to have gotten his long nose from the mother.) a few times.
“…Rainier?” the young man asked. He slowly rose to his feet, and gave Rainer a tight half-bow. “I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance, sir.”
Rainer took a step forward, grabbed the young prince’s hand, and shook it warmly. “You’re the nobility, you don’t need to bow and scrape in front of me, a poor commoner.”
“But not quite common” the duke interjected with a smile. Then he turned to his son and said, “You’ve shown your awe for him quite nicely, my noble son, but there is one aspect of polite introductions you may perhaps have missed.”
“Of course I’ve forgotten, my most noble father…?”
At this point, Althen came up behind the prince and whispered, “Your name, young sir.”
“Ah…yes, of course.” The young man blushed for a mere moment before composing himself, saying, “Rainer, I am Paul-Luc, heir to the noble house of Kan.” Then he leaned in and said, “and I have a boon to ask of you.”
Rainer glanced at the duke, who nodded; Rainer looked Paul-Luc in the eye and said, “My most noble lord, whatever you ask, if it is in my power to give it, I shall.”
“I ask you to teach me the art of the sword.”
Rainer smiled dryly. “Of course, my most gracious lord. It would be my honor, and my pleasure.”
Paul-Luc flashed a broad smile back. The Duke stepped in, a little annoyed at Rainer’s familiar tone, and said “I think it’s time for us to retire. We’ve all,” with a glance at his son, “had a long day. Rainer, Althen will escort you to your quarters, and will inform you regarding the arrangements.”
“You are most kind, my lord.”
The shuttle ride down to the surface was uneventful. Terran was a very mild planet, with few storms that would put the shuttlecraft in any danger. It was a beautiful view out the view ports, but none of the four passengers were watching the descent. Instead, they sat inside their own minds, thinking of the same thing: the future.
The shuttle landed at the palace. It was a short walk before Althen and Rainer took leave of the Duke and his son. Soon after that, Althen indicated a door at the end of a pristine white hallway.
“This is your room.” He said. “You know how it all works: we have your handprint and everything.”
Rainer turned to him. “Thanks, old friend. Sometime before I leave we must get together and reminisce about old times.”
“I would enjoy that very much.” Althen said. He smiled, and said, “Pleasant dreams, Rainier.”
“Now that I’m here, I think that’s more likely.” Rainier said, stepping into his room. “Goodnight, old buddy.” Rainer looked around the room. It looked a lot nicer than his previous accommodations.
It had been a few weeks, and, like always, things settled into basic routines. Three times a week, Rainer and Paul-Luc practiced swordplay. Or at least that’s how Paul-Luc thought of it at first: his boon had been asked at the behest of his father, and the boy had only a sketchy idea of what the art of the sword consisted of. He soon found out his mistakes.
“Oof!” He hit the ground for the dozenth time while his sword went flying out of his hand.
“Are you ready to stop?” Rainier asked politely, swishing his sword lazily through the air for the twelfth time. He seemed to be completely unaffected by the exertions.
“Yes. I’m done,” Paul-Luc gasped between heaving breaths. “You’re much better than I am.”
“And you’re not used to that, are you?” Rainer asked. “Well, you are quite skilled, but you’ve only come up against amateurs, not real warriors. You think of the sword as a weapon, and as a tool.”
Paul-Luc sat up, cross legged in front of his new teacher. His face was contorted in confusion. “Isn’t it? All my other teachers taught me the twelve positions for the three rings of defense, drilled me with counters and entrissers, and gave me mobility drills.” He frowned. “That does sound like technical training. But shouldn’t it be? I mean, the sword is a tool, isn’t it?”
Rainer sat in front of Paul-Luc, mirroring his position. While moving, Rainer had noticed the lad’s overt tallness, and even in this position Paul-Luc had several inches on him. He answered, “If you want to be a fencer, then you need to know all those positions and moves. But you don’t want that; you want to learn the art of swordsmanship in order to fight evil and defend yourself.”
Paul-Luc nodded slowly. “Yes, that’s true.”
“So the enemies you fight will have weapons of their own, correct?”
“I assume so. Otherwise fighting them would be rather dishonorable.”
Rainer smiled. “Yes, I suppose it would. But you see, you will not be fighting their swords, you will be fighting your opponent. To do that most effectively, you must realize the sword, not as a sword, but as part of your body, a part of your soul. The sword must become an extension of your self.”
Paul-Luc shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
Rainer nodded. “I know. This is all new. But understanding in your head isn’t going to do anything. You must know the sword like you know your hand, not understand it like you understand a school subject.” He paused. Or like a lover, he thought. Like a sword, it’s another foreign substance that you can know to be your own. He blinked a few times, then said, “Stand up. Let’s try something.”
Paul-Luc quickly got to his feet. “I’m ready for anything.”
Rainer smiled. “I’m sure you think you are.” He said. He leaned back, and then leapt to his own feet. “Wait here,” he said, “and close your eyes.”
Paul-Luc was confused, but he did as Rainer said. Then he heard, “Oh, and you don’t need your sword, either. You can just toss it to the edge of the room.”
Paul-Luc laughed. “I don’t think so,” and quietly walked to the corner and gently placed the sword on the ground.
“Very good!” Rainer said from somewhere behind him. “Now for the first part of your training.” There was a pause, and Paul-Luc tensed, trying to sense what was going to happen next. Then, he thought he heard something, something soft that was gradually gaining in volume. Music? He thought. No, it couldn’t be music. But it was. A slow waltz, it seemed, something from the fifth century, pre-empire. A Tabluski work, if he wasn’t mistaken. But what was Rainer doing?
He waited. Nearly above all else, a Duke’s son must know patience, he remembered, and this was one lesson he was not going to fail. The music rose to a comfortable level, but then nothing else happened. Suddenly something clicked in his memory and a very uncomfortable thought filled his mind, something one of his history teachers had drummed into his skull with more scorn than she had usually afforded her subject. “Rainer!” Paul-Luc called out to the emptiness, “you had better not be planning what I think you’re planning.” And he was discomfited to hear Rainer laughing.
“So you have been taught some of the ancient lore, eh? That makes it easier, even if you have the same distaste of this venerated art that most have in this day and age. But where I come from, this was one of the more pleasant social customs we had.” Then there was silence again, until Rainer said, “Your first lesson with the sword is this: Never give a man a sword who does not first know how to dance.”
Paul-Luc opened his eyes. Standing in front of him was one of the servant girls, a young silly giggly one by the looks of her. Rainer was nowhere to be seen, but Paul-Luc knew that he would be watching from somewhere. He turned back; the girl was smiling expectantly. Paul-Luc sighed. He didn’t recognize her, but he could tell from her uniform that she was one of the night cleaning service. He took this time to study her more closely: in all likelihood he’d probably seen her two dozen times before, but he had a hard time telling these servant girls apart. She was quite plain, with slightly curly brown hair and brown eyes. He wondered where Rainer had grabbed her from. Paul-Luc swore that he was going to pay for this. Then he straightened and became more serious as he said, as he had been taught in the archaic custom, “My lady, would you do me the honor of giving me this dance?” The girl inclined her head with a very hushed giggle, and took one of his hands in hers as they rather awkwardly began to waltz around the room.
A few days later Rainer and the Duke met in another room in the palace. Rainer noticed that all the rooms looked pretty much the same; some were bigger, some had more furniture, but all the basics were the same. He supposed it made redecorating easier, as well as disorienting any invading troops that tried to storm the rooms, especially since the Duke would be sure to rearrange the rooms on random occasions. The Duke was the enemy of the most powerful man in the galaxy; he would be a fool if he wasn’t cautious.
“What is this I hear, Rainer, of your teaching my son to…” the Duke shook his head, disgusted, “…to dance?”
“A necessary evil, my lord.” Rainer said, with a tight smile.
“Ah, of course…I remember my training in the armed forces, the Knell days, they were called. They wanted to break down the men in order to build them back up, better than before. Or some such hogwash. Is that the purpose of your dancing?”
“Perhaps it is not so harsh as to be named after the prison planet, but I do think that the young prince was not pleased by the experience.”
The Duke laughed. “Indeed. Well, on to more pressing matters. I’d like you to oversee some of the security measures for the castle.”
“Of course, my Lord.” Rainer said. “From what I’ve seen so far I can see that you’ve invested in competent security personnel. I believe your basic security for this castle is adequate, but I would like to spend some time with your men.” The Duke beamed. “Excellent. I’ll have our senior staff ready in an hour. You can join us and see how we rate.”
“I appreciate that, sir, but I actually meant your regular fighting men. I’d like to spend some time with the division assigned to this palace.” Rainer said, more insistently this time. He wondered at this man, the Duke. He couldn’t quite equate with his mode of thought. Sometimes he was completely concerned with his fellow man, but sometimes it seemed he didn’t quite understand how important his subordinates actually were. Didn’t this man remember the great revolts that occurred back before the…but no; he wouldn’t have, would he? That was before the Noble history. Very well. Perhaps the Emperor had also overlooked his history, Rainer thought. That’s all that matters, defeating that murderer and destroyer, no matter the weakness of those fighting him. A master of the old arts will always remember to use his weaknesses as well as his strengths. Rainer took a deep breath.
“What has been done to assure that the Emperor will not attack you here?” Rainer asked.
“Other than keeping our connection with you a secret? Admittedly, not much; we think that any overt armament will simply make us more visible to the throne. We are hoping to set up some surveillance of the system: that wouldn’t be questioned, and it would give us warning to escape or prepare if an invading force came in-system.” Rainer nodded.
“Also, my Lord, there is the matter of your scientists.” Rainer said. It was an unusual request, to talk about the technocrat class to a member of nobility, and Rainer figured he knew the Duke’s response.
“Scientists! What do they have to do with anything? They’re all silly dreamers. They are always thinking that they have almost figured out how the universe works when something shows up that leaves them all feeling silly about what they used to believe. Remember that whole nexus theory nonsense? Now they all think that the fundamental principles of the universe and the origins of life are connected to the Tachyon field pulsations. They never learn their lesson.”
“Yes, but they’re still necessary. Especially in these times, inspiration can come from the strangest places. I have learned not to underestimate the value of science.”
“Science! What next?” the Duke laughed amiably. “You are a strange man, Rainer, but not an unpleasant one. I am glad you are on our side; I think we are better off with you.”
“My lord. You are too gracious.” Rainer said with a bow.
“No, I think, if anything, it is that I am unable to comprehend all of your thought. But you do me the honor of not looking down on me. Or,” he paused, considering for a moment, “perhaps you are merely paying me my due deference.” He stood. “It doesn’t matter, as long as you do your duty.” Yes, the Duke thought, that’s what it is all about. Duty to oneself and one’s environment. “Now I have my own duty to attend to.” He walked out of the room. Rainer sighed. The Duke had ducked him on the matter of the scientists. Well, it was his prerogative, as the Duke. But Rainer had hoped better of him.
Rainer continued to sit in the command room for a long time, considering many things.
Some time later he was sitting down cross legged on the floor across from his student. They were both drenched in sweat. Paul-Luc had gotten into shape very quickly. Rainer commented on this.
“In fact,” he said, “you are perhaps the fastest learner I have ever seen.”
“A compliment? From you, Rainer? I never thought I would see the day.” The young Prince sat back and rested on his arms. He shook his head, and took a deep breath. “I’m not sure…but it feels like…I don’t know, like I’ve learned it all before, and it’s just coming back to me now. Is that usual?” He asked, staring off into space.
Rainer looked at him for some time, studying him. It was beginning to make Paul-Luc nervous. Then Rainer said, “No, it’s quite unusual, in fact.” He continued to stare at the boy for a time, and then he turned away as he stood up, slowly. He seemed to be considering something at length.
As he waited, Paul-Luc began running through the muscle awareness exercises Rainer had been showing him. It made him feel rather strange, to contemplate moving only one muscle independently of all the others. So far, he hadn’t been able to do it, and he wondered whether Rainer was merely telling him stories in order to get him to work harder.
Finally Rainer nodded, and turned around. “Yes,” he said to some unspoken question, “let’s try this.” He gestured for Paul-Luc to stand up, and told him to raise both of his arms.
“Keep them up, but try to relax. Take a deep breath.” Rainer watched as Paul-Luc complied with his instructions. “Now,” he said, “lift up your right foot, and begin to lower your body on your left foot.” Paul-Luc promptly fell over. “Do it again,” said Rainer. “We’ve started on the art of swordsmanship; now we have to craft your body to be the tool that the sword needs. You will need to be able to move any part of your body independently of any other, and to do so without losing your balance or rhythm. It will be hard, do not worry.” He smiled as Paul-Luc returned to his task again, and again, and again.
“Rainer,” Paul-Luc said slowly, working to relax his aching muscles after his teacher said that he was through for the moment, “You mentioned, that time when you made me…dance, that where you are from, it is a social activity. I’ve never heard of such a place. None of my teachers ever mentioned it. I even went to infostor and asked the archivist, and it said no such place exists. Where exactly…?” Paul Luc trailed off as he noticed Rainer stiffen suddenly. Paul-Luc glanced hesitantly at him, afraid that he had overstepped his bounds.
“Eh, but aren’t you a sharp one” Rainer said, with something that was not quite a sneer. Paul-Luc held back, leery, searching for some sign of Rainer’s emotion, but he couldn’t read anything in that suddenly mask like face.
“What did you think, eh? Did you think I was a traitor, sent by the emperor to snare you? Eh, is that what you thought?” Rainer stood up, spun slowly around. “Well here I am! Say it to my face; I’ve been so long distrusted it comes as no surprise anymore.” He completed his turn and faced Paul-Luc, who took a hesitant step back. “Stay where you are!” Rainer bellowed. “You searched hard for knowledge; it shall be given you. You wanted to know about me, I will enlighten you.” He sat back down, and Paul-Luc slowly mirrored his motion.
“I am not surprised that your search was not fruitful. I was born to a people who have exerted a great amount of effort to remain hidden from the outside world. We hide and move constantly; seven planets I can count as my childhood home. We have always been attacked, always been persecuted, always hounded where ever we go. I was born to a league of outcasts. One day, several years ago, our people where found, by servants of the emperor, and we couldn’t evacuate in time. His generals attacked us with overwhelming force, with orders to completely destroy all knowledge of our people. Some of us fought back: a few were able to escape, but for the most part we had no choice; we had few weapons and little real training. A few of us who managed to escape vowed that it would never happen again. So we trained as hard as we could in the martial arts, the way of the sword, and vowed to spend our lives fighting to remove this evil who had taken so much from us.”
“But why?” Paul-Luc broke in, “why would he hate you so much? You didn’t seem to be doing anything to harm him!”
Rainer looked at him intensely. “I can’t tell you. Perhaps you will find out someday, but I cannot answer. That is all I have to tell you. Work on your exercises.” He turned around and walked slowly out of the room. Paul-Luc, shaken by the encounter, merely sat there for a long time.
Late some other evening, father and son were sitting together in an enclosed balcony in the highest tower of the palace. They were looking out at the stars, and Paul-Luc was asking his father for stories about his visits to them.
“So, I stared him down,” the Duke was saying, “I stared him down and said, ‘you’re a fool if I ever saw one.’ He said, ‘how foolish can I be, if I caught you trying to sneak in to this here power plant.’ And I said, ‘because I’m the Duke, you imbecile!’” and he stopped because he had begun to laugh at the thought. “So I went to the police station, and the officer in charge took one look at me, straightened up, saluted smartly and said, ‘your Excellency, sir!’ in his best parade ground voice. I turned around to look at the man who had arrested me, and the look on his face was priceless; pure horror! He didn’t feel too bad, though, after I commended him for his efforts on capturing such a suspicious character.” He laughed again.
But suddenly the Duke looked thoughtful. He said, “Son, I’m sure you are too old for stories now. Why do you keep letting me go on?”
“I am interested in your stories, father,” Paul-Luc said, “but mostly…it’s just that we spend so much time apart.”
“I know that, son.” The Duke looked at the boy gazing out into the night sky. He looked so mature for his age that people forgot to realize that he was still only a child. The Duke sighed. His son’s maturity was a sign of his own mortality.
“If you are so interested in stories,” the Duke began, “then let me tell you another one. An older one. It is, in fact our story, the story of the nobility. I’m sure you’ve learned some of it from your archaic history teachers,” he smiled ironically to show his opinion of those fools, “but it’s now time to hear it from one who keeps the tradition alive.” He paused for a moment, looking up into the night sky as if looking for inspiration from it.
“Long ago, there was a great war somewhere else in the universe; no one really knows where. Some say that it was at the very center of the universe; others of us think that it was around the lost homeworld of mankind.” He smiled again, and glanced at Paul-Luc. “I know what you’re thinking; it would be absurd to think that humans could come from just one planet, but some of us are romantics.” He turned back to the sky, and waited for a moment.
He continued, “one way or another, it was a long and terrible war. We don’t know that much about it, but there is a general consensus that one side had come out ahead in several battles, and the other side grew desperate. They launched a massive, overwhelming suicide attack on the capital planet of the victors. All who were on the planet were destroyed, but twenty ships managed to make it out before the planet was destroyed.” Paul-Luc stirred. “Twenty ships?” he said, “like the twenty houses of nobility?”
His father smiled. “Close, son. One of those ships carried the first king of our land, Thur. If you remember, the houses Isaak and Dun are twin houses, descended from two brothers who were the sons of the patriarch on one of those ships.”
Paul-Luc nodded and looked back out at the sky, his usual posture when listening to his father.
The Duke smiled for a moment, and then continued on with his story: “Our ancestors, then, had become wanderers, without a home or any resources but the grand ships they had escaped in. But at some point, after several years of wandering, they made it here, to this part of this galaxy. Aah! What it must have been like, for those stepping off the ships!”
Paul-Luc considered this. How exciting could it be, he thought, to be forced out of your home, to be forced to wander for years before finding any place you could call home.
But his father continued. “Unfortunately, these planets were not unoccupied. The indigenous people let them stay, for a time, but then struggles between the two groups began. Often small incidences. But these grew and grew and again our people were forced into a war. We don’t know who started it. It doesn’t really matter: it wasn’t a conflict with easy protagonists and antagonists. Both sides have stories of heroism and treachery. Our ancestors had superior technology, but the other side was defended by the Shen-Wu monks. Incredible warriors, the Shen-Wu, though I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you that.” He shook his head, remembering the past, visions of men in silver with pure white swords with incredible, almost supernatural skill.
“Eventually, though, the King and his men came out victorious over the Shen-Wu. Some wanted to live equally with the local people, but the majority believed that it was right for our people to rule over them, and teach them what our ancestors knew. Their leaders agreed, on the condition that the Shen-Wu school would not be shut down, and that no child of the nobility would ever come to train there, in order to keep some semblance of balance.”
“Now we had come the age of the king. It was a golden age, son, a golden age for our people, and theirs, when we lived in peace and harmony. Insurrections came, but they were often repressed by a joint force of the Noble Armies and the Shen-Wu. We began to understand each other, to know each others strengths as well as each others’ limitations.” He shook his head.
Paul-Luc understood his emotion. There was no such understanding anymore. He remembered the hate in the eyes of the people he passed in the street. They hated his position, his birthright, and his rule over them. Are they right? We took over this place by conquest, and these people were just unlucky enough to be the descendents of those who were defeated. Are they right to hate me? Wouldn’t I hate if I were in their position?
“What happened, Father? What drove us apart?” Paul-Luc asked.
“No one really knows, son. But someday you will be in a position where you have to make decisions regarding these people, and you must remember that that responsibility is the highest in the universe. Never forget what you owe the people, son; never forget that it is you who serves them, not them who serve you.” He sighed once again, and said: “There are things I must do now, son, but thank you for remembering your old father in his time of struggle.” He embraced his son, turned, and walked into the tower. His son continued to stare out at the stars, and wondered about many things.
2.
It was the dead of night when the first explosions rocked the palace. In two minutes, Rainer, who had already been awake, was at the command center. He was met by the night watch commander.
“Sir, we’re under attack, but we don’t know anything else at this time. We’re working as fast as we can to gather new information, but the fact that they could take out the electron field before we knew that they were there indicates that we are dealing with a very proficient foe.”
“Thank you, commander. Keep me as updated as possible.”
“Of course, sir. If you would like to join the defense, I could equip you with a commnex so you could keep abreast of everything.”
“Yes, yes, let’s do that, and hurry.”
“I’m on it, sir.”
Rainer waited three minutes and forty-two seconds by his count. How typical, he thought, how utterly and fantastically typical. Always, always, always, men like the Duke put the academic commander on the night shift, a commander who had probably never seen any real battles, only simulated ones. The night shift was always for inferiors. Generally a punishment duty. But then when does the enemy attack? At night, for obvious reasons. Rainer burned with anger. Why are intelligent men blinded by rote tradition?
He grabbed the commnex from the man’s hand and ran toward the shield generators. He knew it was theoretically impossible to bypass the electron field, except (theoretically) with an infantry based positron projector larger than any that had yet been built. Of course, all of that would be irrelevant if they had an insider. The oldest weapon in the human arsenal. We’ve been backstabbing each other since before we had knives for stabbing. Enough of this! Rainer thought. If there is a traitorous element, it has to be dealt with before it could do further damage. Plus, he thought, I might be able to repair the field before the missiles start flying.
He got to the field generator with his sword out. The place was deserted. Now he knew there was something wrong. But the trademark of hum of the generator was still buzzing through his head. So…what was going on here? He closed his eyes, listening, trying to hear beyond the hum/buzz. Nothing. He took a deep breath. Think! Then…his eyes flew open and he started running. The field projector on the roof. Anyone would think of the generator. It was the most conspicuous aspect. But this enemy was subtle. It had to be the field projector. He just hoped he wouldn’t be too late.
He got up to the roof and looked about. There didn’t appear to be anyone here. There was something very wrong going on. There was a sound behind him and he whirled around.
At the command center, people in uniforms were still scurrying around busily. The Duke and Althen had arrived and had taken control over the defensive forces. They didn’t like what they saw. Or more precisely, what they didn’t see.
“They’re obviously knocking out our sensors before we can figure out exactly where they are.
“I can see that, Althen. Find out what we can do rather than repeat what we obviously cannot do.” He shook his head, and looked up at the viewscreen which represented the castle. It was mostly filled with flickering static. He took a deep breath. “I suppose it’s academic, at this point, anyway.” He gestured at the Comnex port, which was hissing an audible static to match the map. “We can’t control any of our forces; they’re jamming our transmissions.” Despite the seriousness of the situation, he chuckled a little at a sudden thought. Here they were, truncated and paralyzed at the heart of their ‘impenetrable’ castle, with no options, and still the junior officers were running around, looking busy and harried. Didn’t they see it was over? He thought. He gave a quiet internal shrug. These men had their job to do, just as he had his.
“Well,…” he said. “I suppose that’s that. Althen, issue the evacuation…” but he broke off suddenly as the image on the viewscreen changed. Changed…to a face.
Rainer’s sword spun and rang against his opponent’s. Hands and bodies were moving at lightening speeds; he was somewhere beyond conscious thought, he was all instinct, nerves, muscles, feelings, and sensations. Parry counter thrust spin stride block…all at once. But in a small place in his mind he was feeling something he had not known for a long time. The face under that…creature’s hood seemed eerily familiar. And if it was who he thought it was everyone was in grave danger.
Parry counter thrust block stride back parry duck…the motion of the two fighters grew more and more intense; the swords seemed to move independently of the men wielding them. Every move Rainer made was countered exactly; what an opponent this man was!
Rainer was beginning to tire. He was no longer anticipating his opponent’s moves accurately, and his blocks and blows were becoming less and less effective. The dark man was too strong, just too strong.
Suddenly the dark man spun his sword (blindingly fast!) and disarmed Rainer, who went flying back onto the smooth roof. The dark man stood over Rainer and removed his hood. As the man smiled a hypnotic smile Rainer realized his fear. Then the man’s arm moved (how fast it was!) and Rainer was moved beyond all fear.
“My Lord Duke,” the figure on the viewscreen said in a cold bass voice, dripping with sarcasm. Even on the viewscreen, the man was obviously tall, and his jet black cloak whipped in the wind. “I am here to demand your surrender. Your traitorous insurrection against His Supreme Majesty is at an end.” The black face was hard to discern from the dark background, but the wide yellow eyes and thin crimson lips seemed filled with palpable evil.
“One, you are gravely mistaken. I have no designs against the Emperor.” The Duke said in a measured tone, masking his sudden fear. If One was here, then all the defenses in the Universe would be of no avail. “Withdraw your forces immediately or the Emperor will hear of your blatantly illegal attack upon my castle.”
“The Emperor knows of your treachery, and has authorized me to take you into imperial custody.” The dark figure smiled cruelly. His white teeth seemed incongruous with the rest of the face. The effect was strangely hypnotic, and it left the Duke confused for a moment. Then he shook his head.
“This atrocity will not stand. The Emperor will pay for his treachery, and you will pay with him, One.” He shut off the Comnex, and turned to Althen. “Let’s move with a purpose. Give the evacuation code, and let’s get out of here.” Althen nodded. They turned and started to stride out of the room.
They had gotten a short way down the Grand Hall. Unlike most of the rest of the castle, this section was richly decorated with paintings and sculptures on the walls. But here and now it seemed out of place, a kind of mocking recount of the Duke’s riches in the face of destruction. There was some noise in front of them, some clanging and grunting that sounded familiar to these two war veterans.
When they arrived at the center of the Grand Hall, the noise had stopped; they soon saw why. A tall man dressed in a jet black cloak was standing with his back to them a few feet away. In front of him were about half a dozen bleeding bodies with the uniform of the Ducal Guard. The Duke took a trembling breath. How had he gotten here so fast! It wasn’t possible!
“My dear Duke. How lovely of you to join me.” The figure said, without turning. “If you surrender now, I will ask the emperor for leniency. You might possibly survive. If you are foolish enough to resist, I will destroy you.” The voice was cold, calculating, and almost bored.
The Duke trembled with rage. “One, you have illegally invaded my castle. You are in no place to ask for my surrender.” He glanced at Althen, who nodded quickly. They both drew their swords, and walked quickly but warily toward the dark man. They were almost to him when, incredibly fast, he drew his sword and spun, slashing at the Duke’s throat. The Duke, an old hand, blocked and sent his own attack flying. Althen quickly came to his aid. They were skilled, but the man in black was taking on both of them easily, switching hands on attack and defense, spinning, leaping, every move absolutely perfect. As this wore on, the Duke and Althen began to tire.
Paul-Luc had been awakened by his guard at the first sign of danger, and had been taken to the stronghold deep within the citadel on his father’s orders. He had also discovered the jammed communications and the realization made him angry. There are people dying out there, he thought, and it is my place to be out defending them, doing what I can to aid them. As he waited through the long minutes, he found that it was the unknown that was the most aggravating. He wished he knew what was going on, what was going to happen, anything other than being caught in the middle, in a present he could not change.
Then came the order for the evacuation code over the hardline, and he was relieved for a short time. He was moving now, doing something with that pent up energy and frustration. But he still wasn’t satisfied with being denied being able to help.
But as he was running through a passageway he heard noise coming from the Grand Hall, and he thought that this was his chance to do some good in this fight. He started running toward the noise.
The Duke and Althen, like Rainer before them, were beginning to tire. This man was just far too fast, far too strong. Then they heard a disturbance in front of them, and the Duke glanced up to see what it was. His heart sank as he recognized his son.
“Paul-Luc, get out of here!” He cried, but as he did, he left his defense open. The dark man thrust with his sword; the Duke gasped and fell in a sudden flash of crimson.
Paul-Luc didn’t hear his own screaming. The world had suddenly ceased to have sound, to have motion. Time moved in a series of layers, like pages in a book. He only found himself again after he had picked up his father’s sword and was moving towards the dark man with weapons in both hands and blind rage.
The dark man disarmed Althen in a sudden flurry; a loud crack announced a broken wrist. One turned towards the boy. Paul-Luc saw it all in slow motion: the flashing yellow eyes and that hypnotic leer. He moved menacingly, but Paul-Luc struck first. He drew on all he knew about fighting, and his rage seemed to give him extra energy and speed. The dark man struck twice, quickly; Paul-Luc blocked once with his father’s sword, spun it in his hand and blocked the other blow backhanded while bringing his own sword forward in attack. He began to make up patterns of attacking with two swords, and all of a sudden the dark man was no longer quite perfect in his defense. Paul-Luc, like Rainer, had gone past consciousness: his existence was his body and his opponent, both arms flashing forward and back, quick motions of the body, careful placement of the legs. He jabbed, the dark man took it, spun inside Paul-Luc’s defense, and was barely blocked by a quick motion of Paul-Luc’s weak hand sword. But the dark man pressed in on the attack, and his strength overcame his disadvantage; he pushed forward, and Paul-Luc fell on his back with his opponent on top of him. The dark man grabbed Paul-Luc’s right arm with his left and held it immobile as he slowly pushed down with his sword, closer and closer to Paul-Luc’s throat.
There was a sudden rush of bodies and noise. Two dozen ducal guards with drawn swords and needle guns suddenly surrounded the dark man and the boy. Althen was standing with his sword loosely in his left hand.
One snarled, and jumped upright. He knew this fight was over. The Duke was dead; Rainer was through harassing the empire, and all else here was just extraneous. He kicked at Paul-Luc, sending him crashing back to the floor, and with a flurry of sword work cleared a hole through the guards and was gone in a flash down the Hall.
As soon as he had seen the man go, Paul-Luc sprang up and ran to his father. He winced at his first glance. The wound was deep and there was a lot of blood. But he crouched down, cradling his father’s head in his arms, thinking that it couldn’t be true, this wasn’t real, that any minute his father would wake and clasp him and say everything was going to be alright. For a long time Paul-Luc rocked there, and then he looked into his father’s eyes. They were glazed, and looked like they saw things far away, and there was no more pain in them. Having seen that, Paul-Luc slowly laid the body back down, and kissed his father one last time. He stood up.
“Let’s go,” he said. No one replied, but they followed him swiftly as he continued down the hall.
As they went, they saw more bodies lying to the side. The guards looked around warily; this many bodies probably meant there were more troops inside the castle. Paul-Luc didn’t think about it; he had felt drained after his father’s death, and found now that as devastating as that had been, every new figure on the floor was also draining; every body seemed to take away part of his life. He felt the last remnants of his heart melt away when he saw one body with a head of slightly curly brown hair. There is no end, he thought as he ran. There is no end to death. It just keeps going and going and then…
They reached the exit, and found it guarded by a dozen imperial troops. There was a brief skirmish, but suddenly Paul-Luc didn’t notice it; he had reached the light, the air was touching him, and he realized what had happened; he had reached too far and now he was falling, falling down a deep tunnel that he couldn’t stop.
He awoke in the cockpit of a flitter, used to transport people quickly across planet. He slowly came to, and then looked out the viewshield onto his new fief. It was laced with explosions, fire, and smoke. He suddenly felt a failure to everything he knew. As he slumped back in his formchair, he felt a hand squeeze his shoulder. He looked over and saw that it was Althen.
“You were incredible back there, Paul-Luc. You did the right thing in coming to help us, and then, you took One off his guard. I’ve never seen such a display from a green fighter. Your father will be…I mean, he would be proud of you.” Althen paused, and swallowed hard, before saying, “You did exactly what he would have done, and that’s the highest praise I can give you.”
“What happens now?” Paul-Luc asked quietly.
“Well, we’ve been in contact with our remaining forces onplanet, and they say that it is a mess down there, and that our force of two dozen or so wouldn’t help any. In all likelihood getting to anyplace where we could help will probably get us killed rather than be of any use.”
“Is there any word from Rainer?” Paul-Luc asked.
Althen hesitated, and Paul-Luc’s stomach dropped again. “We’ve found no trace of him, sir,” and in that ‘sir’ it hit Paul-Luc. His father was dead; he was now the Duke. But Rainer was dead too, and that meant…
“Who is second in command of the rebellion? Who’s in charge now?” Paul-Luc asked. “We need to get in touch with them and let them know of what has happened.” He leaned back in his formchair as Althen moved to find out the answer. Again he was in silence. He remained silent throughout the journey to the hidden jump-port, where he and his men were the only ones to escape the planet. As they made the short journey to another ISJ port, he felt a strong similarity to the darkness between the stars. Then there was a harsh kick and the only world he had ever known was left far behind.
BTW, congrats on making it through all of it. If you're interested, it's 8765/50000 Comments are appreciated.
