Shabin- The Reluctant Prince of Rhime

by Andrew Heister

  Shabin

  The Reluctant Prince of Rhime

  Andrew Heister

  This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to events or persons, living or dead, are coincidental.

  Copyright ©2018 All rights reserved

  Chapter One

  Planet Rhime - The Imperial Palace

  Using his finger to follow down the column of numbers on the screen, Jason read again. His third attempt to find deception hidden inside the day’s lesson. Nothing seemed out of place. “I’m still not seeing what you’re talking about.”

  Uncle Martin leaned in from behind, his tie swinging out like a pendulum tickling Jason’s ear. “Keep at it. You’ll find it.”

  Frustrated from hours of staring at numbers, Jason slumped in the soft black swivel chair. “Shipping reports suck. Can’t I just hire someone to audit the manifests for me?”

  Martin turned Jason’s chair around to face him and hunkered to his level, his eyes warm and friendly as always. “You can, and you will, but if you can’t trust the people sending the reports, what makes you think you can trust the person doing the audits? You should always have a complete understanding of these matters. You can’t lead without first understanding what it is you’re asking people to do.” Martin never overreacted to Jason’s surliness. Everything was a lesson and given with patience.

  “And what makes you think everyone needs to be distrusted?” Jason snapped while using a finger to stretch the collar on his overstarched shirt. He was weary, his stomach had been emitting a siren’s call that was probably loud enough for the kitchen staff to hear for the past hour, and he itched for freedom.

  The quick and light piano of Orlov’s second concerto in D minor played throughout the room. Matching Jason’s mood, the rich fluttering notes bounced off the wood-paneled walls as if trying to escape the palace.

  “I’m not as cynical as your father.” Martin ran his hand through the last remaining wisps of hair — short and gray. “I don’t mean you shouldn’t trust your employees.” Rubbing his chin, looking for the right words, he went on. “Every large organization is going to have a few dishonest people. You need to learn all of this so you’ll be able to spot the problems before they get out of control.”

  Jason had heard this countless times before. None of it mattered. Dad would never die. Never retire. Never willingly pass the company and the planet to him. He’d end up like so many others in the family, working under his father in an office with a fancy title and no real authority.

  Even in Jason’s study, a massive hand-painted rendition of Emperor Shabin loomed over him — still in his original body and looking over his empire with all the approving expression of someone detecting a fart in the air. Next to it was one with his great-grandfather, Peter, standing in his lab creating the means for the family’s long-term prosperity. On the other side was Marcus, Peter’s pseudo-son, who used that means with all the determination of a dregcat digging a presti out of its burrow to build the company into an empire. The three of them stared at him, mocking his insignificance.

  His uncle stood and spun Jason’s chair a couple of times before stopping it. Jason couldn’t prevent the laugh from escaping, even if he was too old for such things. Martin was always doing random silly things to keep him entertained through the endless boredom of his studies. He was one of the few who treated him as a person instead of the heir to Rhime, and he loved his uncle for it.

  “Back to work, Prince Jason.”

  “I’m not a prince,” Jason growled. He hated when people referred to him that way. “My father owns a company. He’s not an emperor.”

  Martin’s lips twisted into a grimace. “Get over it, boy. Your father owns the company, and the company owns the planet. As long as you stay on Rhime, you’re a prince.”

  “Then I’ll leave.”

  The smack to the back of his head came fast, but it wasn’t harsh.

  “Don’t say that.” It came out as a hiss. “You’re only seventeen. You’ve no idea what life is like for other people in the universe.”

  “Maybe not.” Jason scratched his head, attempting to fix any stray hairs without his uncle noticing. “But I get to see the way people around me are forced to live.” And the way some mysteriously disappeared after angering his father. That was something never to be spoken about.

  Martin’s mouth drew into a tight line. “You paint him as a tyrant. He's not as bad as you make him out. Most of your father’s people willingly indentured themselves to the company for his protection and jobs. The rest are employees that can leave anytime they like.” He didn’t bother mentioning the more obvious reason people came to live on Rhime — ample and inexpensive access to the company’s youth treatments.

  “Right.” Jason puffed out. “Like anyone but the executives could afford passage off this benighted rock.” Over his uncle’s shoulder, and through the window beyond, a patrol boat zipped across the lake, bringing an afternoon of fishing to mind.

  Martin nodded and dropped his gaze away from Jason. “I realize your father has done some…” He tugged a too-long ear. “...questionable things lately. He’s not been well. You can make changes when the time comes.”

  Jason didn’t believe his time would ever come. His father was no longer fully human. When Jason was seven, his father — Jason Shabin Sr., Jason the First, Lord Ruler and all-around asshole — had his brain transferred into an artificial body, one that was only partially biological. It was an experimental process developed by Shabin Industries, and nobody was certain how long the elderly brain inside would last. Even after a decade, the company still tinkered with the design.

  Questionable didn’t explain half of it. Over the past year, the Emperor had been losing his temper frequently. Little annoyances most people would shrug off turned into scenes of destruction. Two days ago, his father had slammed a fist, shattering a table, seemingly without realizing what he’d done. Poor Ms. Preston had only mentioned Superintendent Tomboli wouldn’t be able to attend this weekend’s ceremony and ended up with a gash across her cheek when the splinters shot up.

  The study door opened, and a serving girl entered the room a full two minutes early, bringing a smile to Jason’s face. Though he didn’t recognize her, she was the typical picture of feminine grace for women working in the palace — tall, exaggerated feminine curves, smooth pale skin which begged to be touched. Silently, she slid a tray onto a side table and prostrated herself to the ground. Diaphanous white robe clung to her body as she bent, her forehead touching the floor. The sheer palace uniform left little to the imagination and took his mind to less noble thoughts.

  Through narrowed eyes, he stared at his uncle and jerked his head at the woman. “Up,” he commanded with disgust over his father’s demeaning requirements.

  Her head lifted off the floor but only enough to look back at him questioningly. Her large blue eyes peeked through blond hair which mirrored his own. He stared a little too long. Her features were similar enough to mark her as part of the family. His father provided jobs for blood connections without the pesky indenture contract, but surely even he wouldn’t go so far as to turn family into one of his pets.

  Martin saved him from the embarrassment of his frozen mind. “You may rise.”

  The girl gracefully stood and gathered up her tray. Her movements about the table to set up their lunch were almost a dance. More than the food tempted him. The loneliness of living a sequestered life with only approved companions drove him to seek alternatives. Someone who cared about him and not about the empire.

  Jason turned back to the monitor. Instead of reading the columns of numbers, he focused his Mirre — the true power behind his fami
ly.

  The virtual world of the Mirre could show him interacting with people in a dream-like state. It was as if he had contact with a temporary copy of a person, and it was a true copy, not like a mindless drone one conjured in a dream. Unless Jason made it obvious, the individual he brought inside the Mirre had no idea they were in a simulation or that anything strange was happening. They continued relating with him as if they were the same real person in the real world while the real person went on ignorant of the event.

  He settled himself and concentrated. His eyes rolled up until only the whites shone. The girl. The nymph in the room. Bring her to me. Even though the girl was unfamiliar to him, Jason had an easy time making the link with her standing so close. A vision of her face burned in his mind as the Mirre encased him. Overwhelmed him. Transported him to that other place.

  Jason stood. “It’s lunchtime, Uncle. Let me eat in peace.” He hadn’t brought Martin’s mind into the Mirre. His presence was nothing more than window-dressing in the scene.

  “As you wish.” The shadowed form of Martin headed to the door and then dissolved into nothingness as he exited.

  Jason approached the ornately carved table as the girl laid out silver utensils. He pressed a hand against her back, causing her to pause in her task. “Yes, my Prince?” Quavering, her voice was a music unto itself.

  “Stop.” He placed a single outstretched finger to her jaw and turned her head toward his. An action he was able to do in this place with far more confidence than in the real world. Those endless blue eyes looked up at him with passion. He bent to kiss her, but the slight flinch was enough to tell him the truth. Not passion — terror, fear.

  “Knock it off.” Back in the study, his uncle’s hand smacked into the rear of Jason’s head again, forcing him back to reality. “That’s not polite.”

  “What?” Jason’s vision returned, and he rubbed his head. Martin’s swat had been less kind this time. “I was only—”

  “You’re a seventeen-year-old boy. I know perfectly well what you were only doing.”

  “What would you know about it being polite?” Jason let his annoyance seep through. Martin was from his mother’s side of the family and didn’t have the Mirre. Of course, neither did anyone else besides his father.

  Martin raised a single eyebrow, and, when he spoke, his voice slapped Jason with stern disapproval. “It already makes people uncomfortable knowing you have the power. They don’t need to see you using it.”

  Jason rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

  “Would you like me to stay through the meal, my Prince?” The soprano voice from the girl floated over the room.

  Jason curved his head around his uncle. A sandwich, along with chips and a pickle adorned the overly ornate display. “I think I can wipe my own mouth.”

  She didn’t move. Hands clasped behind her back, her gaze landed on her slippers.

  Jason shook his head. She wouldn’t leave his presence until specifically given a command. More royal lunacy. “Go. Leave. You have my permission.”

  Her hands dropped to her knees as she bowed her way out of the room.

  Famished, Jason jumped away from his desk and went to the food.

  Martin followed and put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry so much about these things. Your time will come.”

  Jason let out an exasperated huff.

  “Your father won’t be around forever. Enjoy life before you have to take on all the responsibilities.” Martin snagged half of his sandwich without joining him at the table. “Speaking of enjoying life, why don’t you take a little vacation? A week or two on one of the other properties. Go fishing. Play some flickerball. You did just get a new skyboard.”

  The suggestion startled Jason. He wasn’t due for a break until his birthday. “Now?”

  “Not this instant. Perhaps tomorrow.” Martin spoke around a small bite. “Or the next day, but soon. There are some issues happening in the capital that I’d rather you not get involved with.”

  “Issues? What’s going on?”

  “Never you mind. I’m sure everything will work itself out in a few weeks.” His tone brooked no argument. “So, take a trip, grab a cousin or two and do something fun away from the capital.”

  Being kept in the dark wasn’t a surprise. It was annoying as hell but not a surprise. An early vacation. He’d need to consider the possibilities.

  Still standing, Martin took another bite.

  “Aren’t you staying?”

  “Sorry, no. I have a meeting.” Martin ruffled his hair intentionally to bother Jason. It was a very old joke between the two. “When you finish lunch, take a closer look at the numbers listed under maintenance charges for the cargo ships. Oh, and don’t worry about falling behind.” He offered a smile. “While you’re away, I’ll continue sending you assignments, so consider it a working vacation.”

  Chapter Two

  After finishing his lessons for the day, Jason walked back to his wing of the palace. It was early enough that he had time to jump onto the planetary entertainment grid and play his favorite game before dinner. It was a massive multiplayer immersion where he loved to pilot a simulated ship to far-off systems, causing mayhem and seeking fortune. His father had allowed him to set up an anonymous account so the other players wouldn’t know his true identity. Inside the game, he was Peter Argot, a smuggler with a cover as a merchant.

  His bedroom door stood ajar as he entered. A palace maid turned from straightening his bed and prostrated to the ground. “Get up, Marisa.”

  Her lithe form popped to her feet, and she continued her work with barely a pause. Everything about her genetically engineered body screamed sexy-kitten. Only his glands still insisted on having an interest in her. He’d long grown bored with anyone in the palace. Anyone pre-approved to be in his presence for that matter.

  He’d used the Mirre with her more than a year ago. It was intense. Afterward, there’d been two weeks where he couldn’t be in the same room with her without blushing or showing other embarrassing symptoms of his indiscretion. She’d been more than willing to participate in anything he asked of her. Unfortunately, she was obviously throwing herself at him for the chance to become Empress. He was no more person to her than the lamp on the table.

  Marisa’s buttocks danced as she made the bed. Still, it could be fun to go back into the Mirre with her. But no, he sighed to himself. Not again.

  He went to his gaming room which contained a mockup of a ship’s bridge. It was far more detailed than the average system, having a pilot’s chair in front of a realistic control panel. From inside the room, the illusion of being on a ship was complete.

  Attaching himself to the game, he sat in the chair of his Greyson Industries Hawk III. The ship was more of a pleasure yacht than anything else, but even in this virtual world, his father wouldn’t let him learn on anything so common as a military vessel. However, Jason didn’t mind. While it might’ve been fun to pilot a fighter ship, shooting at imaginary aliens or pirates, the simple freedom of leaving Rhime behind and traveling to another planet provided him with entertainment enough — even if the experience was only virtual.

  When the control panel flickered to life, he entered his first destination point into the computer — the Rhime II transfer node. It was the closest of the five stations near Rhime. Once there, he could activate the tegan drive to instantly send him through the node and light-years away to another node in a different solar system. Far away from home, any responsibilities, and best of all, his unstable father.

  The imitated thrust of the engines pushed against his body. After breaking through the clouds, and then the upper atmosphere, he reached open space. The simulation skewed the trip so what would take a couple of hours in the real world progressed over a few short minutes. He expertly guided the ship in manual mode. Years of practice had him itching to try his skills on an actual vessel.

  When he came into range, Jason linked with the transfer station. “Rhime II station, this is JS43202-C
, requesting permission for node access.”

  The reply came a few seconds later. “JS43202-C request denied.” The person tried to act professional but the muffled snickering at the end betrayed the other player.

  “Aw come on, Nate. What’s going on up there?”

  “Sorry, Pete. You logged out last night without paying your transfer fees. I gotta make a living up here.”

  Jason checked his gaming credits. He had plenty, but spending credits to do everything in-game took some of the fun away. After all, he was supposed to be a smuggler. “Care to wager the fees against a few rounds of rixt?”

  A laugh came from the speakers. “I’d be taking advantage of you. Just pay up.”

  “There’s a note on the table for you, my Prince.” Marisa’s sultry voice broke him from the game.

  “Don’t sneak up on me.” He lifted the visor and covered the microphone. “And stop calling me that.”

  “What?” Nate chimed in from the other side of Rhime.

  Putting a finger to his lips to silence her, he spoke into the mic. “Sorry, Nate. Not you. Place me in line for departure. I’ll pay you in a minute.” Pulling his headgear off, he found Marisa standing over him; the tilt to her body projected her breasts uncomfortably close. Did his father have extra pheromones implanted into their systems? He didn’t doubt it.

  Inhaling deeply, he took in her sweet flowery scent. “Who’s the note from?”

  “Oh.” Her hand coquettishly went to her chest. “I wouldn’t presume to read your private correspondence.”

  Jason tightened his lips into a smirk. “Presume away. If I unhook myself, I’ll have to start over.”

  Her exaggerated hips swayed as she sauntered out of the room, causing a surge of blood to flow in the wrong direction. When she returned, she was using the note as a fan. “It’s from your uncle. Would you like me to open it?”

  “No.” It was probably tonight’s reading assignment. “I’ll look at it later.” Shooing her out of the room, he refashioned the sensors and visor around his head. He gripped tight to the controls and returned to the game.