For Duty (Antaran Legacy Book 1)

by Matthew C. Plourde

  “We must make preparations,” Calator said, his mind safe in the coming regimen of his son’s funeral. He didn’t want to focus on the oppressive hole in his life.

  “A representative from my office will contact you for assistance,” Helena said, “if you require.”

  Paulina nodded and said, “Thank you, My Lady. You are most gracious in our hour of darkness.”

  “I live to serve,” Helena said, reciting the rote she learned at an early age.

  “Will you speak?” Calator said. “I mean, at his service. Will you tell our family what you told us? About his bravery?”

  “It cannot be tonight, as I must return to the palace now,” Helena said. “However, it would be my honor to speak over his body before you give him to the fire. Tomorrow morning?”

  Paulina forced a smile and said, “We will wait until tomorrow.”

  Exhausted and drained, Helena boarded her aircar and absently peered from the back window as the driver sped her toward the palace. The nighttime glow from the Antares sun painted the city a deep red. Spires from numerous buildings stretched into the incomplete darkness, lights flickering at their peaks. Her gaze wandered north to the plumes of smoke still visible near the mountain. Stunted trees extended towards the scar of the crash site. The terraforming efforts around Olympus were dealt another complication. They’d have to start over again in some areas.

  Like the smoke, her thoughts were carried to distant places by the winds of doubt in her mind. Were her people destined for continued suffering at the feet of these galactic wars? How many more children must she bury? Was there nothing she could do?

  As she wrestled with those questions, she sensed a plan in her father’s mind. Even at such a great distance, she felt his determination and fear. His plan weighed heavily on him, but Helena didn’t dare attempt to invade his memories. He would detect her.

  Her curiosity piqued, she spoke into the intercom to the aircar driver. “Praetorian, we must reach the palace with the utmost haste.”

  The soldier-driver nodded and lifted into the clouds. The vehicle buffeted against the increased speed as the clouds rocketed past the windows. In the distance, an energy storm’s lights licked the edge of the haze. A few moments later, they arrived safely on a palace landing pad.

  Helena’s sisters were already assembled when she arrived at the war council. Taking her seat next to her father, the emperor, she sensed his anxiety. Now that she was closer, she was shocked at the intensity of his emotions.

  “Heir Helena,” the emperor said, “thank you for your prompt report. Your firsthand accounts from the hospitals have proven very informative.”

  Helena nodded.

  “I have called you all to this summit to discuss my plans with the Humans,” Emperor Agreios said. “We will make peace with them.”

  “Father,” Helena said, suddenly unable to read his emotions, “I know it is not my place to question, but why are we helping the Humans? They have waged war in our skies for far too long.”

  Agreios looked at his eldest daughter and said, “Far, far too long…”

  “We should be sentencing them for their crimes, not negotiating peace!” Valeria, the second eldest sister rose in her chair and allowed her emotions to take hold - again. Helena failed to teach Valeria that serenity was superior to fury. Her sister was tragically set in her ways.

  Helena’s other sisters – Justina, Marcella, Claudia, Prisca, and Terentia – obeyed protocol and didn’t speak. Though they were alone with their father, the younger sisters were only allowed to respond to inquiries. They weren’t afforded free reign.

  Of course, Valeria considered herself an exception. “We should send a clear message to the Humans of Terra, or whatever they call their swampy hole of a planet,” Valeria said. “When the ambassador arrives, we should hold him as well.”

  “Valeria,” Helena said, “you speak from your heart, not your mind. Listen to your own words and you will see the folly in them.”

  “Don’t tell me how to think, sister,” Valeria said with venom on the surface of her thoughts and words.

  Terentia, the youngest sister, came to Helena’s defense as always. “Helena was just trying to-”

  “What do you know of anything?” Valeria said. “Go back to your books and talk to me when you have seen eighteen seasons.”

  “Now then,” Agreios said, “there is no need to be rude to your sister.”

  “She has no place at a war council,” Valeria said. “She’s never even been in battle!”

  “Battle,” Agreios said with a defeated exhale. “None of us have seen real battle. We have lived, sheltered, on this little planet since our colonization. The Humans and Proxans do battle. We write of battle, we train for battle, but we do not know battle – not like they do. No, we are an insignificant speck in an endless ocean of stars. Do you think the Humans care if we live or die? Do you think we can threaten them when we have no warships? Tell me, Valeria, with what would you threaten the mighty Human Confederation? Your ill attitude?”

  Marcella and Claudia suppressed laughs. Helena considered shooting a scolding look in their direction, but she decided to make an exception at the expense of the hotheaded Valeria. She could always reprimand them later, if she remembered. Again, exceptions could be made.

  “And tell me, Helena, what would you have me do?” the emperor asked. “Continue ignoring the exploitation of our planet by these warmongers? Allow more ships to crash into our cities and kill our people? What alternative do you see?”

  Knowing her father didn’t want a response, Helena met his gaze and awaited his next words.

  “Fine then,” he said. “Now that we’ve all had our little moment to rant let me tell you of my plan, for it involves great risk to us all. And I see no other path.”

  Emperor Agreios rose and paced in front of the windows, which overlooked the shining buildings and sky bridges of New Olympus. “I have meditated long about this and I have reached this conclusion: we will not survive this war if we continue to ignore it. Since we cannot fight nor forgive the Humans or Proxans, I must pursue other means to secure our civilization’s safety.”

  After a long pause, he turned to look upon each of his seven daughters. Tears were in his eyes and Helena wondered why he allowed his emotions to loiter so close to the surface. A quick probe of his surface thoughts uncovered fear again. What was he afraid of?

  “I love you all,” he said, “which is why this is a difficult decision for me. I plan to crush the Humans and Proxans to such an extreme that they would not have the capacity to build another battleship. Then, and only then, will they be unable to bring their war to our world. To accomplish this, I need all six of you.”

  In answer to several looks of confusion, Agreios said, “No, Terentia, you are not old enough for this mission. I am sorry.”

  Terentia lowered her head. Helena suppressed pity for her youngest sister, as she recognized the wisdom in her father’s decision. If Terentia wasn’t to be included, then Helena trusted her father had valid reasons.

  “The plan is complex and will require all your ability, courage and dedication,” Agreios said. “You may not know this, but the resources required to build a battleship are immense and, more importantly, finite.”

  The emperor clicked a button on his datapad and the table surface illuminated displaying a solar system. “Here is where the Humans and Proxans mine their precious tellium – the gas which makes their engines possible. This is their main battleground, but since neither side can afford to lose a true battleship, only minor skirmishes are fought there. You see, each side only has a handful of the big cruisers that allow for hyper-fast travel and massive engagements. Replacing each battleship takes decades. We will destroy both the ships and the star which produces tellium. That is my plan.”

  Emperor Agreios changed the view to a scientific readout of a star. “Humans and Proxans mine opposite sides of this enormous star. The mining process is delicate and time-consuming. O
nce the gas is collected, it is shipped to faraway vaults where it is processed and stored.”

  The view changed again to a technical readout of a huge battleship. “The engines of these ships are carefully constructed to house the gas in a perpetual hyperdrive which can propel the vehicle at beyond-light speeds. When a battleship is destroyed, the explosion alters the very fabric of the surrounding space. According to our research, if a battleship was flown into the center of this tellium sun, the sun would collapse.”

  A virtual demonstration of the collapse played on the table’s surface. Well-schooled in astrophysics, Helena recognized the potential validity of the demonstration. Her father’s plan had merit.

  “Here’s the difficult part,” Agreios said as he dimmed the table. “I need each of you to secure a tactical position on six of the eight known Human battleships. You will use your skill and mental ability to advise the Human captains and guide them to victory over the Proxans. Then, at the planned time, you will gain control of your vessel and send it into the nearest star. Helena’s target ship – their flagship called Jupiter – will be sent into the tellium sun to destroy it.”

  Helena nodded, showing her approval and acceptance of her father’s decision to send his eldest daughter to accomplish the most important part of the mission.

  “To that end, I have opened diplomatic channels with the Human government,” Agreios said. “I told them that our greatest resource is our people, not the crude metal on the dark side of the planet. They have agreed to evaluate our usefulness over a game of chess with one of their captains.”

  “What’s chess?” Terentia asked, forgetting her discipline.

  “Apparently,” Agreios said, “it is a game of tactical acumen with a limited scope and known parameters. The Humans have agreed to hear our representative – which would naturally be Helena in this situation – if she can defeat one of their captains at this game. Apparently, Human captains study the game so completely, that they are unbeatable, even to other captains. Games between them end in draws. Since my offer rests solely on our ability to provide the Humans with tactical assistance, the Humans wanted to evaluate my claim that we are better tacticians.”

  “Are we?” Helena asked, not sure she’d been exposed to enough warfare subject matter to count herself an expert.

  “Do not forget your training,” he said. “As long as your enemy has a mind, you can best that enemy. Neither the Humans nor Proxans command the mental disciplines we Antarans do. This captain should be no match for you, Helena. Once you defeat him, you will travel back to their homeworld to negotiate our alliance. Secure yourself and your sisters on their battleships and the rest of the plan may unfold. We will, at last, be free of these wars.”

  Helena performed some quick math and probability analytics in her head. The exercise took only seconds and she said, “We need Terentia on this mission. My analysis returns an eighty-five percent success rate and a twelve percent loss rate in our war against the Proxans. Without Terentia, the Humans will have two or three battleships remaining after we destroy the tellium sun. That is not enough for success. We need to leave them with only one battleship if we are to ensure a complete victory.”

  Agreios frowned and said, “Yes, I came to that same conclusion.”

  “Then it is agreed,” Helena said.

  “No,” he said. “We will conduct the mission without Terentia. Unfortunately, I cannot send someone else, as you all are the best trained and most naturally gifted in our mental disciplines. We cannot risk detection until the plan reaches its conclusion. Terentia will not go.”

  “Father, may I speak to you alone?” Helena asked, prepared to sway him with her logic. Why couldn’t he accept the truth of the numbers? Numbers were pure and inscrutable.

  The emperor nodded.

  Terentia stopped next to Helena on her way from the conference room.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I belong on this mission.”

  “I did not do this so you could prove your worth to the family,” Helena said. “In my analysis, you are not likely to succeed. However, I see the truth of father’s plan. We must do this to ensure our survival.”

  Terentia bit her lip but didn’t respond. As Terentia exited, Helena allowed her eyes to linger upon her younger sister. The days of their carefree youth were lost to the thickness of time. Helena raised Terentia after their mother died and they shared a special bond. Were her words too harsh? Helena sometimes lost herself in her role as heir to the throne, and a spark of regret formed deep in her heart. Before that spark could ignite into the flame of emotion, she suppressed her thoughts and closed the door behind her sisters.

  “What does my eldest daughter wish to speak with me about?” Agreios asked.

  Noticing her father didn’t address her royal title as heir, Helena almost lost her composure. He omitted her title on purpose as he wasn’t pleased with her.

  “Emperor, your plan is a good one and I appreciate all you must sacrifice,” Helena said, proud of her father for his determination and cleverness. “The Histories will remember your wisdom and courage.”

  Agreios sank into his chair and looked at his daughter. Tears formed in his eyes again. “Courage? Do you think there is courage in my plan?”

  Helena sat next to him and touched his forearm. She studied his wrinkled, yet strong face – a face that appeared as if it was carved in stone. Why were his emotions so readable? Was he losing control?

  “Are you alright, Father?”

  “Helena, my dear, I love you all so much. I don’t know if I’ve said it enough lately… But you are all so precious to me.”

  “You are precious to us as well, Father.” Helena avoided the word “love.” Though she studied the word in her literature, she wasn’t sure it was an emotion afforded to royalty. Memories of her mother threatened her emotional barriers. Did she love her mother? Why was her mother taken from her at such a young age? No. Those thoughts were dangerous. Helena closed her eyes and recited the serenity chant in her mind:

  I shall not despair,

  The walls of reason ground me – I find my center.

  From my center I collect strength, wisdom and clarity.

  There is no chaos, only serenity.

  When she opened her eyes, her father was looking at her. He knew the chant and he probably realized Helena was using it. She hoped she didn’t give away her reasons for using the chant more than usual lately. Grief over the loss of a loved one was weakness and the heir to the Antaran throne couldn’t afford any imperfections.

  “This is difficult for me,” Agreios said, “to send my daughters into battle like this. I fear I may never see you again.”

  “We will succeed.”

  Agreios smiled and said, “I never doubt you, Heir to Antares. Since the day you were born, you have proven yourself dependable and dutiful. I know you will not fail me. However, that is not why I shed these tears.”

  “I will not speak of your tears, not even to my sisters.”

  He waved his hand. “Such things do not concern me anymore. Too late, I realize that I missed the most important parts of life. Logic, tradition, rulership – I would trade it all to relive my days with my daughters. I would have very much liked to be the one to comfort you when you cried, to cheer you when you succeeded and to read you those bedtime stories. Xyla was an excellent proxy, but as your father, I should have done those things. I should have watched you grow, rather than review the reports of your status on my datapad each morning. Regrets. Regrets fill my mind these days, dear daughter.”

  Shocked by the emperor’s words – her own father’s words – Helena couldn’t speak. Was this regret clouding his vision? She reviewed his plan again and found it to be in sound logical shape. What was happening to him? Why couldn’t he push aside his emotions and embrace the cold truths?

  “I know why you are here,” he said. “You are here to convince me that Terentia needs to be on the mission.”

  She nodded.

 
“Not this time, Helena. I have done the math, same as you, and our success is likely. I will not send Terentia into battle and that is final.”

  Recognizing the resolution in his face, she didn’t push the matter. However, her math came to the same conclusion time and again. Failure was more likely than she was comfortable with.

  Chapter 3

  After another busy night with no sleep, Helena kept her promise to speak at Cispius’ funeral. The orange sun cast the faces of the grieving family in the usual Antaran glow. Helena restrained herself from reaching into their minds – their mood was contagious and she couldn’t afford a swing of depression.

  “Though I only knew Cispius for the brief time he was in my care,” Helena said, “I was instantly impressed by his good nature. We needed to keep him unconscious, but I was able to travel through his memories. His thoughts were warm and safe. I feel I know you all so well, as his thoughts centered on his family life. A life he adored. In the end, he honored his family by being the dutiful citizen you trained him to be. He held the door open for his classmates as his school burned. This responsibility was his, and he welcomed the chance to show his peers that he was ready to sacrifice for them. Though you did not know it, Cispius was named Class Protector a few months ago. This honor was one he shouldered with great enthusiasm, yet he didn’t want to appear prideful. So, he did not tell you.”

  Helena paused to gaze upon the still form of Cispius under his shroud on the pyre. He deserved a future. All Antarans did.

  “That is how he died,” she continued, “as a fine citizen and friend to his classmates. I touched his mind during his last few minutes in this world, and he wanted me to tell you all about this. Not because he wanted to be remembered as a hero. Instead, he wanted you to know how much of an honor it was to be a part of this family. In his death, like in life, Cispius honors you all. I will personally add this to your family record for its storage in the Archives.”