Van huffed, his jaw tightened and Gregaor watched him go out of the room. Gregaor followed. His little brother had a good pure heart. He didn’t fit into the Xavier family at all. Even when he talked rudely to the slave at Da’Mira’s reception, Gregaor knew Van was trying to impress him.
“You all right?”
Van flopped down in a chair and threw his legs up over the armrest, and grumbled, “I’m mad at you.”
Gregaor sat on the edge of a chair next to Van. He folded his hands in front of him and said, “You have every right to be. As things go right now I have no other choice but to except that.”
Van rolled his eyes.
“I know you don’t understand. I don’t think I do sometimes.” Gregaor smiled when he realized Van’s attention focused on his video game and not him. “Yeah, wish I could play a game too.” He ran his fingers through his brother’s hair.
“Lord Xavier,” a slave called from the door.
“Yes,” Gregaor replied annoyed.
“Lady Lucinda has been calling but you’ve not replied.”
Gregaor glanced at the intercom system on the wall; the little light still blinked red. “I’ve muted it. Tell her you couldn’t find me.”
“Milord, your mother insisted that I find you and not to come back to her without you.”
Gregaor stood, adjusted his pants and tucked down his red sweater, and huffed, “All right, guess I can’t avoid her forever. Stay here, Van, and try on some more of your new clothes.”
“Ok,” Van said. He didn’t look up from his game.
“I’ve been calling you for over an hour,” Lucinda said indignant – her eyes fixed on the com-pad in her hand. There was an indention in the carpet where she stood, apparently from pacing back and forth.
Gregaor grinned. From one form of video game to another, he thought. “I was helping Van try on the new clothes I ordered for him.”
“That boy has plenty of clothes,” Lucinda sneered. The backdrop of the Earth spun into view.
“Not anymore, I had them all tossed out an airlock,” Gregaor smirked and waited for a response from his mother. To his surprise she didn’t look up from her pad. “Why am I here?”
Lucinda rolled up her eyes, said, “I’ve received information that the planet the Tannadors were excavating has fallen back to the open market. They don’t have a legal claim on it anymore.”
“How is that even possible?” Gregaor dropped into a chair and plopped his feet up onto a coffee table.
“Things are changing, son. If you’d pay more attention to what was going on around you and less time lusting after that Tannador girl you’d know more.”
“What is it I should know?”
“Really Gregaor?” Lucinda sighed and handed him her pad. “Read this.”
Gregaor skimmed over the news clipping on the screen. His silver eyes thinned, and he took his feet off the table. He set erect, looked at his mother and then back at the news feed. “It says here Hek’Dara Tannador has been removed as operating supervisor of all food processing plants effective at noon tomorrow. until… until the Lady Da’Mira Tannador can be apprehended and made to stand accountable for destroying the breeding facility in Scotland.” Gregaor gathered his thoughts. “This is nonsense. Da’Mira had nothing to do with what happened on the planet. She was at her brother’s reception party on Tannador House.”
Lucinda chuckled and took her com-pad back from Gregaor. “Whatever the case, Tannador assets are frozen and the claim they have on Kepler 369 revoked. Not to mention their expedition is recalled to Earth which further invalidates their claim.”
“What’s this all mean?”
“It means we have a chance of claiming the planet for our own. I’m sending you back out on the Seeker to Kepler 369 and lay claim to the planet.”
Gregaor stood and gave his mother an awkward stare. Though he didn’t say it aloud, he planned on marrying Da’Mira. It would be a perfect way to strengthen the Xavier name, and give him the power to oust his mother as head of the family. He would be in charge of both families. All awhile Da’Mira will think I love her. Gregaor cleared his throat and said, “That will be harder than it sounds. Da’Mira can be headstrong.”
“This is business!”
“Can’t you see what’s happening here? The Lexors and the Orlanders are going against the charter. Everything the nine families set out to do when they moved to space is being trampled on by them.”
Lucinda sneered, and she hissed, “It doesn’t concern us, at least not directly and if we can profit from it, then why should we care what happens between them?”
Gregaor looked at his mother, narrowed his brow, disgusted he said, “Because it could be us they come after next. Where’s father?”
“At the driving range,” Lucinda threw her hand in the air. “Finances might spiral out of control, civilizations might rise and fall but golf will always prevail. It keeps him out of the way.”
Gregaor looked at his mother and tried to remember when she became callous and uncaring. Then he realized. Perhaps she’d always been like that and he couldn’t see it when he was a child. At least he came by his neuroses honestly. Children spend their whole lives trying to crawl out from under the scars inflicted by their parents.
“Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Gregaor sighed and said, “I know what’s expected of me.”
“You’ll depart within the hour.”
“And Van is coming along with me.”
“Out of the question,” Lucinda said returning her attention to her pad.
Gregaor faced Lucinda, squared his shoulders and stood resolute. Fearless he said, “No, I’m not sure you understand me, mother. I’m not asking you, I’m telling you. Van is coming along with me.”
Lucinda looked up; her rich dark eyes hardened, and her lips drew into a hard-little line and she said, “That useless lump of flesh will get in your way. He will stay here so I can…”
“Can treat him like an animal? We’ve had this conversation before. You treat slaves better than him. He’s my brother and I love him. He goes with me.”
“Who goes with you?” Havish asked when he walked into the living room; his golf clubs hanging off his shoulder. He sat them on the floor and rubbed the shoulder that carried them.
“Van, I want him to go with me, father.”
Havish nodded, and with an agreeable tone said, “Yes, I think that’s a good idea. He needs to see the universe and what better way than with his big brother.”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion.”
Havish stopped at the mini-bar and poured himself a drink.
“No, but I value it,” Gregaor said. “I’m not sure when the hierarchy of this family changed. I’m sure I was too drunk or high on something to care. But it meant something when father gave his opinion and if I remember he ran this family. I’ll take the Seeker out because that’s what’s expected of me. When I get back I think it’s time for a change don’t you father?”
Havish tilted up his glass and nodded at the same time.
“You see there,” Lucinda said with a cackle. “He can’t keep himself out of a bottle long enough to run this family.”
Gregaor stepped near his father as a sign of unity. He knew his next actions would cause a rift in the family, but he couldn’t think of a recent time when there wasn’t a rift. Turning toward his mother, shoulders arched, he said, “I wasn’t talking about father running this family. I was referring to me.” I’m moving too fast, I must be cautious.
“Impossible.”
“Really, didn’t you tell me just a few minutes ago that things were changing?”
“Yes, they are.” Lucinda moved to the other side of the room, she sat her com-pad on an end table, said, “But our adoring fans that watch us and admire us would never tolerate such a coup to happen in this family. Our… our popularity would plummet.”
Havish poured more to drink, and stepped up next to Gregaor, speaking with a weak but
proud tone, “Would it, Lucinda? You’ve spent a lot of time and money turning Gregaor into the clean-cut poster child for this family. People adore him, women fantasize about him and children want to grow to be like him. I don’t think there would be much of a downturn in our popularity if he were to become head of this family.”
Lucinda remained silent and stunned. Gregaor saw her skin turn pale pink. He held back his satisfying smile, though he wanted to do nothing more than gloat. Gregaor hadn’t seen Havish put his mother in her place for a long time. Things were changing.
Durum Station – Food Processing Plant
Earth Orbit April 19, 2442
As a boy of ten years old, Hek’Dara Tannador remembered his father as a larger than life man. He garnered respect not just from his peers, but from everyone. Edgewood Tannador, a formidable yet considerate man, allowed low-born and slave to share in his good fortune. His goodwill appalled the members of the Union, yet none of them dared speak out against him.
A frail man, Edgewood commanded authority. Though he looked timid, he was far from weak. Hek’Dara learned a lot from his father. The most important lessons: never back down, never give up and never show weakness. Hek’Dara failed to heed those words. Times were different now. Edgewood’s unique way to handle things no longer seemed possible since the slave uprising. Hek’Dara wondered how his father would’ve reacted. Would he remain the same? Would he continue to trust the slaves?
One thing was for sure. The slave uprising changed Hek’Dara’s point of view. From that time forward he never trusted a slave and over the years, his trust in everyone else became tainted. Withdrawn, his hatred festered to even detest his children.
Hek’Dara leaned on a guard railing and overlooked the warehouse floor below from an observation deck. It towered over the processing facility of Durum station, the first major food processing plant to go online when humanity took refuge in orbit. From the start of the migration to orbit, the Tannadors harvested clean edible foods for all humanity. In the eleven generations since the plant went on line, not a day went by that it didn’t produce food. Even during the slave revolt the plant didn’t falter. Hek’Dara remembered how he felt that day. That the job entrusted to him by his father continued, despite the chaos. The pride that swelled in his chest all those years ago smothered him now as he waited for what was about to happen.
Hek’Dara detected this underlying, almost uncontrollable hate swelling in him. It bordered on rage and he didn’t like the feeling that something, over the last few days, had festered in him. He trusted no one. Not even family, this went against everything his father taught him. He fought to clear his thoughts. Yet the anger in him whispered in his ear – he hated it and he didn’t understand why. Some unseen force pulled his strings like a puppet and he didn’t like it, not one bit. He tried to remember his father, and how he would handle things.
On Edgewood’s death bed he gave Hek’Dara one last bit of advice, saying, “Not allies, not lovers, not lifelong friends you can trust. Family – family you can trust.”
Da’Mira made that advice hard to follow. Hek’Dara forced himself to trust family. Difficult as it was, he believed Da’Mira when she said she had nothing to do with what happened the other night. Yet his daughter’s rebellious actions were probably the catalyst behind the slaves’ insolence and the fuel for Avery Lexor’s heinous crime.
Every action has consequences. Hek’Dara knew Da’Mira’s reasons were just. But people like Avery Lexor, with agendas of their own, would always use someone’s good intentions to better themselves. Whatever agenda Avery Lexor might have, Hek’Dara bet Iris Lexor wouldn’t condone it, but she would exploit it for her own means.
“Coffee, father?” Quinton handed Hek’Dara a steaming hot cup.
Hek’Dara waved it off, and said, “I don’t think my stomach could take something in it right now.” He gripped his belly with his hand and pressed on his abdomen, it gurgled.
“When will they be here?”
“Tomorrow, maybe today, I don’t know. What’s it matter? Even if I wanted to stand up to the Orlanders I don’t have the security force.” Hek’Dara focused on the plant floor. Over the years the Lexors and the Orlanders put themselves into stronger positions. Both families had strong armed their way into more and more power over the last hundred years and no single family could stand up to them. “I’m afraid we don’t have the resources to resist the coup, Quinton. It looks like our forefathers’ idea of a utopia garnered on wealth and prosperity for all is nothing but a pipedream.”
“You mean because of the slaves?”
“No, I don’t mean because of the slaves. I mean because our perfect society is less than perfect. No matter how hard we try, man will never work together. There will always be someone that wants more wealth and more power. The nine families were supposed to be the best that mankind can offer. We have spent hundreds of years building the perfect society, but we failed to realize that man is not perfect, especially the elite. I’m afraid we are going in one direction… dictatorship.”
“We have to fight this.”
“Your alternative is war, son. Man hasn’t fought a war in three hundred years. Will you be the first to spill blood?”
“Then we are to sit back while tyrants take over?”
Hek’Dara didn’t have an answer. In all his years he never thought things would get to where bloodshed would be the only action left to him. What of the people? If they fought, how would things continue? The real losers would be the low-born. He let out a sigh, waved his hand to dismiss the idea of war and turned back to a large table filled full of shipping assignments and product activity. It’s the only life he knew. Even when the Orlanders came, he would still do his job. He’d no longer be in charge… in control. Then Hek’Dara thought about it. He would be the last generation to run the food facilities. It would all come to an end with him. The Tannadors, the wealthiest of the nine families reduced to nothing. He hung his head low.
“I’m sorry, father. I’m not helping, am I?”
Hek’Dara’s brow tightened. He looked at Quinton, gave a ghost of a smile and said, “I’m not sure what anyone can do to help.”
The door to the observation chamber hissed open. Hek’Dara expected to see Havashaw Orlander and his security men walk in. Instead he found Carmela Anders standing just inside the door.
“Lady Anders,” Hek’Dara said surprised. He and Quinton shared a suspicious look.
Carmela grinned and walked in; her slim-fitting dress clung to her and showed every nuance of her well-toned figure. Two of her security detail followed.
Hek’Dara stepped up to greet her with his hands extended out in front of him. Carmela reached out and laid her soft delicate hands inside his.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Hek’Dara said.
“I daresay, it took some time to get things together, but I’m here now.”
Hek’Dara gave her a queer look and asked, “Here for what?”
“To render you aid in this fight against the Orlanders.”
Quinton laughed and rubbed his hands together enthusiastically.
“I’m sorry, Milady, you know my son Quinton, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Carmela said, her thin lips curled up into half a smile.
Carmela stepped away from Hek’Dara. She glanced at the shipping assignments on the desk in front of her, and said with her back to Hek’Dara, “My husband wasn’t a trusting man. He knew sooner or later the perfect society we’ve created wouldn’t be so perfect. He took precautions.”
Hek’Dara twisted his mouth and asked, “What are you saying?”
Carmela turned around, her brown eyes sullen. She reached out and took Hek’Dara’s arm into her hand and led him around the office, her voice low she said, “Before his death Richard had some contracts, deals…” she cleared her throat.
Hek’Dara heard a hint of mistruth in Carmela’s voice, but he stood quietly as she continued.
“He made some deals,
put projects in order long ago to form, in secret, a well-armed security force. They are small, but well-trained. He told me I would know when to use them. I’m putting them at your disposal. If the Orlanders and the Lexors want a fight, its time the numbers were equal, don’t you?”
Surprised, Hek’Dara felt there was more to Carmela’s story. He cleared his throat, dismissed his worry and asked, “Lady Anders…Carmela. How many men do you have in your security force?”
“Five thousand men and women at my last count, and they are awaiting orders to join you here.”
Hek’Dara looked at Quinton. Fighting went against everything he believed. Yet something told him that strength was his only answer.
“Why are you hesitant, father?”
Hek’Dara glanced at Quinton and said in a shameful voice, “Will I be the man? The man that after centuries of peace, begins a war?” He turned away. His thoughts consumed him, thoughts of the Union charter that he cherished, and his inevitable betrayal of that charter. Am I willing to begin a war because of vanity? He wondered. Am I so determined to save face that I would do something so atrocious?
Carmela grabbed Hek’Dara’s arm with a tight grip, pulled him close and said, “Don’t you see, Hek’Dara? That’s what Iris had in mind the whole time. A bloodless coup where no one is killed, but all are conquered. Soon no one will tell the high-born from the low-born… or the slaves. There will only be the Watchtower.”
Quinton spoke up, and in a tight voice said, “She’s right, if we don’t fight for our rights who will? Will we cower like an animal and allow everything our forefathers built, be destroyed? What legacy will we leave for our children?”
Hek’Dara heard his father. No one you can trust… only family. Allies was all he had left to trust. “If this ends in blood – what will we be when we come out the other side?” he asked.
“Free,” Carmela said.
“Will we?” Hek’Dara asked.
Origin Expedition Page 20