Kingdom of Stars (The Young Ancients: Timon Book Three)

by Power, P. S.

  Only then, after they'd done all that, which was more than anyone else had done, did they go inside.

  As soon as they were in the Captain made the wall return, and then the air. Then, without hesitating at all, the giant turned on the annoying noble and started yelling, very nearly at the top of his lungs.

  "That, was the sorriest, the weakest willed, display of cowardice that I've ever seen! If you were in the Noram army, the Flyers Corps or the Space Fleet, I assure you that I'd toss you out of here without that fancy new miracle shield and let you try to breathe vacuum for a few days! I have half a mind to do it anyway!" The man paced and seemed to truly mean his words, which had most of the others looking away. Scared.

  Timon just felt tired, but listened to the Captain anyway. He wasn't wrong really. Oh, Timon didn't think that the man was a coward in particular. He wasn't backing away from the larger man after all, just smirking at him, as if he had the right of things. It was a bad plan however, because Peterson, no matter what, or who, else he was, also had the Captaincy of the Ranford at the moment. They weren't in Noram any longer either. The law there was pretty much whatever the giant made up.

  The snooty and bothersome man in white sneered a bit, and then started talking back, sassily.

  "You can't do anything to me, and you know it! The High Servants outrank all but the Knights of Noram, and Space Fleet has no power over our ranks. Just be glad that I'm not going to complain to the King directly about this... display. We aren't here to die, or slave for you! If you want things built on the moon, I highly suggest that you hire workmen for it. It's what they're there for. Get some common trash to risk themselves, not the nobility."

  The big backhand from the Captain didn't land, since the man had his shield on still. Wisely it seemed. It looked like the man was holding off on purpose, as if the annoying guy was right, and the bigger giant knew it.

  Timon sighed.

  "There seems to be a problem here. Captain Peterson, would you have some of your troops come to aid us? Everyone else... We need some chairs. We're going to have a trial."

  That got some attention at least. He was just making it all up, but left to collect some things, after taking away the annoying man's new shield. His old one too. It meant he had to turn it off, and then have the man stripped, since he had a lot of magical devices on him, including a force lance, which he tried to use against the three middling sized Austrans that were doing the work. It was odd, but they didn't seem to care that the man was a noble at all.

  It took a bit to set up and was a huge waste of time, but he wanted to make a point. Several in fact.

  When they got the tables ready, with one in the front and two facing them, along with chairs for the High servants, and all the crew that could attend for the moment, they let the man have his clothing back. Sort of. Timon set it to look like he was in a prison gray smock. Even the people not from Noram got that one. There was a woman from Afrak there too, on the crew. She looked horrified by it all, but Timon smiled at her and waved, which seemed to make her feel a little better about it.

  She probably thought they were planning to kill the man.

  Smythe.

  That got Timon to feel bad for a bit, when he heard the name, since Smythe of Westend wasn't just the Military Counselor for Noram, but also a friend of his. If this was a relative, even a distant one, then it could be an embarrassment to the man. He was honorable enough, in his own way. Powerful too, but that wasn't going to help Reid Smythe here at all. Baron Third. That wouldn't do the trick either.

  Tim set up communications devices, so that everyone that needed to be there sort of was, if only as a voice sitting on the front table.

  Then, as if he were anyone important at all, he plunked himself down in the middle, making his chair sit on a raised bit of floor, so that he would be level with the others. In this case it was the Captain and Sexton Breen, who was the sister of Count Breen, it turned out. The High Servant that had gone out with him first. One of the only ones to have volunteered for the duty, as it turned out.

  "This is a dark day. One of the High Servants, Reid Smythe, has failed in his duty. Let it go on the record that this is not a charge of cowardice, which is not a thing that can, or should, be leveled against a High Servant, but one of attempting to use his position and secular power to avoid his sworn duty." Timon looked at the other High Servants, trying to make the point. It probably just seemed like he was bored. At least he didn't sound like a piping little boy anymore. His voice came out sounding like a smooth tenor, for the time being. Then he glanced sidelong at the others and at the devices in front of him, which were all silent, waiting for him to finish.

  "If he had refused out of simple fear, that would not be at issue here. The High Servants aren't warriors, and shouldn't be expected to act like they are. That said, they're the High Servants. Refusing to do their duty out of laziness, or presumption that a task is beneath them goes against their oaths. I have that right, Sir Derring?" Tim waited and almost instantly a very cool voice came over one of the devices.

  If nothing else it would let them all know how serious he was. He'd bothered to wake the woman up at three in the morning for this after all. Then again, it was her job. She wasn't a High Servant herself, but rather a Knight of the Realm, even if she was in charge of the new unit.

  "That is true. This isn't the first issue we've had with Servant Smythe either, along these lines. The entire board of Counselors offered their resignations over similar actions already, and the Magics Counselor resigned in disgrace for this very reason." She moved from sounding a bit sleepy and upset, to nearly livid in the course of a single sentence.

  She didn't go on however, which was probably a good thing for the accused, even though he was sitting there at his table, alone, looking disgusted with everyone else in the room, rather than like he was in real danger of losing his life.

  It probably meant he wasn't all that bright, really.

  Timon started to go on, when another voice interrupted. Captain Peterson.

  "I witnessed this myself, along with twenty-two others of good will and honesty. Does anyone here find cause to doubt this take on things? Was the man merely acting out of personal fear, perhaps, that was hidden underneath a pompous shield?" It was a bit pointed and rude, but no one spoke out for the man. Finally Timon did it, since it was probably more than a little true.

  "That's a wise question. Baron Smythe, is that the case? If so, I suggest you admit to it right now and not stand on pride. Missing supper for a night or two and having to apologize to the Captain is far from the worst thing that can happen here. Anyone can feel fear, after all, and it can at times make even brave men act oddly."

  The man stood, which was the tradition in court, for the accused, and then spoke, which was, it turned out, less than the correct thing for him to do. Groveling would have been much better.

  He was honest at least. Timon could feel that coming off of him, along with a good amount of indignation.

  "It wasn't fear. I simply do not believe that my duty as a High Servant requires me to take orders from my lessers. This boy ordered us to go into the void of space, as if we were members of this new Space Fleet. That isn't our job. We were brought here for slave labor, against our will, and my personal recommendation. Who does this aid? My oath was to help those in need, not just to go and do whatever task some bored person thought might entertain them. "

  There was a silence in the room, and almost everyone looked away from the moron, which, as well spoken as he was, Timon understood to be the real problem. He was very well educated, no doubt. Also too stupid to work out basic things like who they might be helping right now.

  "It aids all of humanity. If the rest of us die in this war, some few might survive in the new colony." He explained it clearly, but the man didn't seem impressed to hear about it.

  "What war? The minor dispute in Noram? That hardly threatens us all, does it? Or do you mean the fairy tale battle of the Ancients? I assu
re you that I've never met such a being! I think this is all a ruse, meant to grab power away from those of us that have rightly inherited it."

  That little speech was interrupted by sounds of outrage from the communications devices, an actual yelling that had to be silenced before they could continue.

  That happened when Timon told them to shut it. Rudely.

  "We have work to do, and this isn't going to be fixed by losing composure. I think that we have enough to go on for now. So, what do we do with him?" Tim made his voice serious, even if he didn't really care about what they did with him, as long as it didn't make too big of a mess. He had his own tasks to get back to.

  Captain Peterson perked up, his deep voice rumbling with sudden cheer.

  "Let's toss him outside."

  That got a strange reaction, even though it was clear the man was joking. About half the people seemed horrified, and the other half... Nodded.

  The voices from the communications devices were less split. If it had been a real vote, then the man would be dead before morning, it seemed.

  Alice Orange grunted loudly.

  "Do it. We don't have time to waste on this kind of thing. There's never time for that. Let's finish this. Captain, toss him out the airlock."

  It was a direct order from his High Commander, so the man started to stand up, though he stopped when Timon laughed. That got everyone's attention.

  "No." He said it firmly, as if he had a right to overrule anyone. It worked well enough for the time being, since even Alice just grunted at him. Waiting to see what idea he had. "We can't bring our barbaric human nature into space. Or, well, we shouldn't yet, if we can help it. I say we strip him of all his titles and put him to several years of hard labor. Oaths are a serious thing, and he should be made to keep his. No matter what. Death is a way out. We shouldn't give him one."

  There was a pause, but Orange spoke first again.

  "Fine then. Captain, belay the execution, for the time being. Who's needed to strip the man of his titles? Can we do that? I don't have that kind of power."

  "But I do." This came from King Richard, though he did clear his throat, a moment later. "Sir Derring, would you agree with stripping one of your people of their position as High Servant?"

  "Yes. It is so ordered. Reid Smythe is no longer a High Servant." It sounded very final, and the woman didn't stop there. "You will need to watch him, so that he can't kill himself in shame, unless that's allowed to him?"

  Timon looked at the man, who simply seemed outraged at the indignity, rather than humbled.

  "Of course. If he desires to do the honorable thing, it will be allowed. I have a cutter he can use for it." There was a tradition that allowed a disgraced noble to end their own life. It wasn't always given to commoners, but even merchants were allowed the grace, if they asked for it, in the main.

  It was also a threat. If the man didn't do as he was told, they had a way to make him vanish now, that everyone would believe. They'd kill him and claim he did it himself.

  Really, if the man didn't start to show a little more cooperation it was going to happen, probably before morning.

  King Richard spoke then, his voice mellow and relaxed now.

  "Very honorable. I won't strip you of your rights as a noble, Reid Smythe. I will however place them in abeyance for a time of three years. For that time you have no rights, privileges or powers, in the eyes of Noram. Is that understood? Your actions have shamed us in the eyes of the world. Now, I must go to your Baron and bend my knee, begging him, a good and honorable man, not to take his own life over this borrowed shame. Know this, Reid Smythe, I'd best not hear of you in a negative light again. To the rest of you there, High Servants all, know this; it is both a duty and an honor to hold the rank you do. All of Noram, and indeed the world, is watching you now. I know that no one else will bring such shame upon us."

  Then there was a soft click, as the device was slapped off. Not everyone in the room got what that meant. One by one the rest of the devices shut off then, and Captain Peterson rose, his face stern.

  "Very well. Place the prisoner in a cell. If he requests aid in ending his life, see Timon Baker for that. Otherwise his new tasks will begin at six in the morning, ship's time."

  He didn't speak to anyone in particular, so confusingly all the High Servants stood up, and moved on the man. He didn't fight, and it wouldn't have done him any good to try it. They all had shields on. Turning to the white clad woman next to him, Saxon, Tim murmured.

  "Take charge of this. Make sure he isn't harmed. Put him..." He looked at the Captain, and then the collection of women from the kitchen. "If you think it's a good idea, place him in the kitchen, doing whatever they tell him to, for the time being."

  It was the lowest work they had on the ship. Having him scrub toilets would have worked better, but almost everything there was self-cleaning. The Captain glared at the man and then nodded, working out the same thing, no doubt, more or less.

  "Make it so. I'll arrange a guard for him." Then they all broke up, meaning that he was able to finally get back to his own tasks. First that meant sleep, and then...

  He almost didn't know, there wasn't just one or two things needed, but hundreds. Worse, he already dreaded the idea of going back into a trance state at all. It was so... Even boring didn't explain it all. He was losing himself.

  Oddly, when he woke up, it was the thought of Reid Smythe that pushed him to do the next bit of work, and the one after that. It was his duty. Not one he'd sworn an oath to maybe, but something stronger. It was what had to happen.

  Timon was one of the very few people that could do what had to be done, so he forced himself to it, not slacking off at all. It meant he was a bit surprised when he came back to the surface, several months later, to find that Tiera was sitting across from him, her face serene, dressed in a plain brown tunic and trousers like a student. Her eyes were closed, but the moment he opened his, she did the same, feeling the change in the room.

  In his field. He felt hers move as well.

  "Timon. I have news." If it was good or bad didn't leak into her voice.

  "Yes?"

  "There has been an attack, using sunset-fire, on Noram. It failed almost instantly, and at least six of the Ancient clones have died. Denno Brown believes that Remy Seventeen has been sighted near the Vagus Space port. He suggests that you leaving here, to a random location might be helpful. He's told no one except for me, and we did that in person." Then she went silent.

  Timon looked at her, and realized that she was tall now. Taller than he was by nearly half a foot at least, even sitting down. He was larger too, but it wasn't the same growth pattern. He was about five-nine, at a guess, and she was nearly a foot taller than that now. It had stretched her into a sticklike figure, but she was still pretty, for all that. It had to do with the smoothness of her skin and the shape of the bone under the flesh. It was more delicate seeming than most noble women.

  She was probably close to being fully grown then, since she should stop at about seven feet tall. All the kids should.

  "I see. I'll leave in a few minutes. Would you like to come with me? I was thinking that we could simply use the new shields to get back to the ground. Has anyone tried that yet?" He wasn't teasing, but he managed a fake and dreamy smile anyway, getting one in return.

  "I haven't heard of that. The new shields are making an impact on things however. King Richard mentioned that he owes you most of the treasury. I told him to not pay you for the work. Doing that will destroy the economy. Instead I recommended a firm beating, but Aunt Connie took that as an insult to you. I just don't want you to get a big head. You've managed some impressive things." The words were very peaceful and pleasant sounding, making it clear that Tiera wasn't leaving her trance state simply to carry on a conversation with him.

  He didn't bother doing that either, anymore.

  "Oh? I wasn't aware that I had a defender there. She always seems a bit like she doesn't like me, to be honest."


  Tiera, being his sister, didn't let that go, clearly having more information than he did. Or at least slightly different info.

  "No, it isn't that, though she does find you cocky and too self-assured with her family. It's rather that she wants to have sex with you and can't, you being too young. So she's kept you at a distance, I think. I could be wrong on that score however. She might simply not like you. You can rub people the wrong way at times."

  "Agreed."

  He made himself smile and tried to rise closer to the surface. It wouldn't hurt to be a little more normal, if he could help it. Then he stood up and held out his hand to her, which she took firmly.

  "So, shall we jump out the side of the ship without warning?"

  Without hesitation she smiled a little.

  "Let's."

  Chapter eight

  There was, Timon realized about ten minutes later, after leaving the ship through a small hole that he made, a large and rather bowel loosening difference between flying around above the planet and rushing toward it. Worse, Tiera was totally unaffected by it, as far as he could tell. He wasn't scared really, but his body reacted like it was. Things inside him tingled and his breath felt shallow and tight, even though there was no real stress on his body.

  They were going to land at his house, in the Capital, if they could manage it safely. That would be lit, even at night, he thought, and it was around midnight there, so they wouldn't be noticed easily. That however, was wrong, since the whole thing was dark. Not just his silver river, but the entire kingdom, almost. A few lights showed in places, but they were all small, singular things. None of them were in the right place either.

  Rolling his eyes he got what was happening, of course. This was to help keep them from being targeted by the Ancients. Except that they didn't use lights to find where they wanted to attack at all. Still, it would help bring people together, if in hardship. That was a real enough thing, he guessed. They weren't doing anything useful, but by doing something, a thing that everyone else did too, including the King and Queen, it made it seem like everyone was doing their part to fight. It had to leave them all feeling better.