Children of the White Star

by Linda Thackeray

  Perhaps he should take Elisha's advice.

  His sister, the Princess Royal, was two years his junior and very much her mother's daughter. Breaking the stereotype of the vain, frivolous aristocrat, Elisha was no dilettante. Aisha, a child of the Jyne Delegation, raised her children to value tolerance and knowledge. Thanks to their mother, she grew up to be a conscientious young woman whose first loves were her causes and her books.

  Spoiled scandalously by their father, Garryn dreaded to imagine what monsters they could have grown up to be, if not for Aisha's discipline. Since her passing, Iran was free to indulge Elisha's fancies, including allowing her to choose her own husband. The majority of Brysdynian aristocracy frowned upon the decision, of course, but Garryn knew his father did not care. Elisha was his little girl and he would never force a political marriage on her.

  He was grateful for this. When they were children, they were confidantes; as adults, best friends. It was Elisha who knew the right things to say when he had doubts and it was only natural he would confess his nightmares to her.

  Like all soldiers, he distrusted men of medicine, even if he recognised their contribution to society. Elisha suggested he consult a mentalist for his problem. At first, he baulked at the notion. If Healers were bad, mentalists were worse. These physicians, who claimed to study the psyche, saw no sacrilege in demanding access to one's most intimate memories. Garryn neither liked the idea, nor wanted to submit to such treatment.

  Still, he couldn't afford to be mentally unbalanced at this time. Not when he was only weeks away from being crowned the Prime. There was also a nagging fear in the back of his mind that he might truly need help. If so, he not only owed it to himself to correct the situation, but to the Imperator, who would need his Prime in the best of health.

  So, for his father's sake as well as his own, he had no choice but to see a mentalist, no matter how loathsome it might be.

  II

  Imperator

  “We are the children of the White Star, warriors of House Brysdyn. Are we to give up the warrior instincts that helped us build our empire? When did we become a gaggle of cowards choosing to hide behind a book of law! Peace, my friends, is a word we are using to become a nation of old women. When will these alien ideas cease to influence our society? We must defend our heritage before it collapses from our indulgences!”

  Garryn stared in amazement. General Edwen had always disliked his father's policies, but listening to the man voice his opinion before the whole Quorum was unnerving. The commander of the Security Elite stood proud and defiant, staring hard at the Imperator, daring him to respond, but he lacked the authority and charisma Iran commanded in the Quorum. Still, Edwen's nondescript and disarming features bore a quality that often tricked people into underestimating him.

  Garryn did not.

  Being a member of the royal household had taught him how to distinguish friend from foe. Years before, Garryn knew which camp Edwen belonged. He wondered how Iran intended to deal with Edwen's anti-Jyne sentiments voiced so publicly. This was years in the making and did not surprise Garryn at all. Aisha had made Garryn aware of Edwen's rising discontent with the Jyne years ago.

  Her father was Elvan, Chancellor of the Jynes' Delegation. The match took place during a visit by Iran, then Prime, to Jyne, where he met Aisha at a state ball. Neither Elvan nor Darian, the Imperator at the time, intended a wedding to come out of the trip. The Jyne did not believe in political marriages and Brysdyn found the Jynes' diplomatic approach to everything tiresome.

  Nevertheless, the two different young people fell in love, to the complete surprise of both fathers. Their relationship produced the unexpected possibility of a new White Alliance, in the manner of their ancestors of ages past. Many welcomed the union as the merger of two powerful nations, while others, such as Edwen, supposed evil from the start.

  Until the Scourge, the marriage and the impending alliance became a constant source of debate on the Quorum floor, leaving Aisha with the guilt of causing so much enmity.

  Garryn never forgave the slight against his mother.

  Today, the old argument had resurfaced in force and Garryn was grateful Aisha was absent for Edwen's vitriolic speech.

  Not yet the Prime, Garryn could only view the proceedings from the visitor's gallery. How would the Imperator react to the General's challenge? No matter what the context, this wasn't just a challenge to Iran's favouring of a non-aggression treaty with Jynes, it was also an insult to his wife.

  In announcing his opposition, Edwen denounced both.

  The members of the Quorum, the elected body representing the regional districts of Brysdyn, held their breaths as two titans waged their cold war across the floor. General Edwen had fired the first volley and they awaited the Imperator's response with anticipation.

  After a lengthy pause, he spoke.

  “General, if I may be allowed rebuttal.”

  Iran the First stood up from his seat and descended the steps leading to the Speaker's podium. Edwen, a tall thin man, who sometimes appeared ghoulish, vacated the position and returned to his own place in the Quorum Hall.

  As he prepared to address them, Iran reminded Garryn once again how impressive his father could be. His father matched Garryn's tall height and bore the same dark hair. They both shared blue eyes and were often mistaken for flesh and blood, even if any similarity between them was coincidental. In Iran flowed the bloodline of a thousand generations of House Brysdyn, something Garryn would never possess.

  When he reached the podium, Iran did not glance at Edwen before he started speaking.

  “My friends, throughout our recorded history we have been a race of conquerors. We defined our culture by expansion and the subjugating of less aggressive races. For us, there was no other way to live. Our empire is proof of everything we achieved, but the Scourge forced us to change.”

  A ripple of acknowledgement moved through the assembly and Garryn witnessed the effect of mentioning the Scourge. No matter what argument Edwen made against Brysdyn losing its identity, nothing withstood the reality of the Empire's darkest time.

  “Many of our children are only now thinking about having their own,” Iran continued. “The Scourge is only a quarter of a century behind us and our lack of a sizeable new generation cannot be ignored. Years ago, our dedication to war stymied our advancement in every other field. Perhaps if we had devoted more of our resources to more scientific pursuits, such as medicine, we could have escaped being neutered by the Scourge.”

  Nothing he said warranted cheer or applause, only a sad acknowledgement. Their condition could not be denied, Garryn thought with a tinge of pity for those who lived with intimate knowledge of what the Imperator meant. Not even Edwen appeared unaffected by the same sadness affecting every Brysdynian man born before the Scourge.

  “The Weavers gave us a second chance with our New Citizens. Our hope is renewed because we were given children, strong and healthy. They are our future and I want to see them live long enough to succeed us. I do not want another war where they'll die as senselessly as our unborn did in the Scourge! Our empire was saved from extinction. Let us not squander our next generation by forgetting how precious they are.

  In regards to this Alliance, let me remind you all the Jyne were the only ones willing to help us during the Scourge. Remember when the others turned away and refused to even listen to our pleas, the Jynes did not. They didn't exploit our weakness to their advantage, nor did they try to invade us when we were at our most vulnerable. Instead, they helped us try to find a cure. House Brysdyn, like House Jyne, departed the White Star together. Our ancestors meant us to find a new home together and live in peace. We were always meant to be united, if not in territory then at least in friendship.”

  After the summation, deafening applause erupted, although Garryn expected nothing less. His father was a charismatic leader with the ability to speak and reach his audience. The enthusiastic response allowed General Edwen to make a discreet exit. The
challenge was met and answered, for now, but Garryn suspected this matter was far from over.

  Still, he felt some satisfaction at seeing Edwen disappear out the rear door with his tail between his legs.

  * * *

  When the Quorum council chose to break up for day, Garryn waited until the last of its members finished with the Imperator before he went to meet his father. Making his way into the restricted entrance, Garryn was allowed passage by the guard on duty.

  His father, flanked by his guards, was on his way out when they met halfway down the hallway. Falling into stride with Iran, his protectors stepped aside and increased their flank to allow father and son some privacy.

  “Edwen showed his hand,” Garryn remarked.

  “I was not surprised,” Iran shrugged. “He was never thrilled at the idea of an Alliance and I expected him to voice his opposition at some point. I gather you weren't either.”

  “Mother taught me well.”

  His father's expression saddened and a flicker of a private pain surfaced in his eyes. Garryn suspected Aisha's death was still raw for him, making him squeeze Iran's shoulder in comfort.

  “Yes, she always was so clear on such things. I still miss her.”

  “You were married for thirty-five years, father. Letting her go can't be easy. She was my mother and when I go past her favourite garden, I still hope she might be there at her bench, reading. I can't imagine the pain you must feel.”

  Iran gave his son a grateful smile at his understanding before they both lapsed into a silence as they walked through the halls of the Panopticon, where the Quorum conducted its meetings.

  “Edwen bears watching now.”

  “No, I don't think so.” The Imperator stated, but did not care to explain as they reached a set of doors at the end of the hallway.

  They hissed open and both men stepped into the Panopticon Bay. While not as large as commercial ports in Paralyte, the bay was adequate in size to accommodate the transports belonging to the Quorum leaders. It also housed mechanics and the equipment necessary to service the vehicles.

  Most of the Imperator's protectors were waiting for him in their escort vehicles. A guard took his customary seat up front with the driver and the skimmer began to move after Iran and Garryn climbed into the back seat. Upon approaching the exit, a computer voice declared its deactivation of the security grid, allowing the motorcade passage out of the Panopticon.

  Outside, the day was warm. Paralyte was full of activity today. The good weather brought everyone out and the bazaars and pedlars were out in force across the city. With tourist season here, visitors from all over the Empire and beyond were moving through the streets in an exotic assortment. Some paused to gawk at the Imperator, snapping holo shots as his convoy passed them by.

  “I wish I could enter into Paralyte unnoticed like you do. Your mother had the right idea about using disguises.”

  “She did,” Garryn agreed, but was not about to be deterred regarding Edwen. “So what are you going to do about the General?”

  With his gaze still fixed on the sights as they drove past, Iran answered without looking back at his son. “I am going to do nothing at all, Garryn. Edwen is a voice and voices are allowed to say whatever they wish.”

  “He has support. His Security Elite are still very loyal to him. I wonder whether we are wise to allow him a forum with the people he has at his disposal.”

  “True,” Iran conceded the point before turning to Garryn. “But the numbers of raw recruits joining them are small. Erebo left a bad taste in people's mouths and the Security Elite was in some part responsible for what happened there. Edwen may be a formidable speaker, and I do not doubt he has supporters in the civilian sector, but it's not enough to overcome Erebo.”

  “I have to agree with you.”

  He was lucky to have been only a pilot during the uprising. The surface troops who landed on the moon endured the real hardship. No good soldier enjoyed shooting down civilians, let alone a poorly armed, untrained group of civilians. For months, the settlers of Erebo fought desperately to keep alive the dream of a new nation, even if it never had the slightest chance of becoming reality.

  Iran did not miss the shadowy expression on Garryn's face.

  “They gave us no other choice, Gar. We offered them full pardons to lay down their weapons and go back to work or to come home if they wished. They declined and we will never understand what they were thinking when they chose to suicide by igniting the ore. Perhaps, for them, dying was better than to face defeat.”

  “They shouldn't have been driven to such a position at all. The soldiers who came back from Erebor after the clean up was done were haunted. I don't think I'll ever forget the horrors on their faces and it won't be dispelled from their minds for a long time.”

  “I share their torment,” Iran sighed and Garryn guessed he was thinking about something other than Erebo. The grave expression passed from his face and, a moment later, he regarded Garryn again. “Are you now convinced Edwen is no longer a threat?”

  “I don't know. I still think he should be watched,” Garry admitted.

  “But we would be no better than his Security Elite, would we?”

  Garryn had no argument to offer.

  III

  The Mentalist

  “Jon, you are not going to believe this!”

  Jonen gaped at his normally efficient and composed assistant after she burst into his office out of breath and excited. Always perfectly coiffed and never prone to making unnecessary displays of emotion, Mira was a monument to restraint. Except when she was standing at his desk, staring at him like a wide-eyed teenager.

  “Mira, please, pull yourself together.” He couldn't resist teasing her.

  He never had the opportunity to turn the tables on her. It was always Mira telling him to calm down when some matter made him raise his fists to the universe in protest. Small as this victory might be, he relished the chance at vindication. Mira had managed his practice since its first day and over the years they had enjoyed a comfortable relationship that allowed for playful ribbing.

  Eyes narrowing, Mira Giving straightened up immediately and adopted her cool demeanour once more.

  “Garryn is here,” she stated, her voice devoid of its earlier enthusiasm.

  Jonen did not immediately understand the significance.

  “Garryn?” He stared back at her bewildered.

  Mira rolled her eyes in sarcasm. “Garryn, the one who is going to be crowned Prime in a matter of weeks, that Garryn.”

  Watching the shock descend across his face, Mira took some pleasure in his reaction and held back any further information until his impatience grew intolerable.

  “And?”

  A smug smile stole across her face at making the winning move in their bout of verbal chess.

  “He is in the waiting room outside.”

  “The heir apparent needs a mentalist?” Jonen blinked, still grappling with his surprise.

  He was used to seeing patients of importance in his practice, but unprepared for royalty. Technically, Imperators were not meant to be considered such, but to a common Brysdynian they were near enough. Even if his reputation as one of the Empire's most notable mentalists was deserved, receiving a visitor of this calibre was still a coup.

  Did Garryn need his services?

  Other questions emerged during the short seconds before he gave Mira further instructions. Why would Garryn come all the way here to consult him otherwise? His office was located in the heart of the respectable Rura District in Paralyte. Someone of Garryn's stature could afford to summon a mentalist to him without any difficulty.

  “Shall I show him in? We can't leave him outside to wait. He is, after all, going to be our next Imperator.” Sarcasm dripping from every word.

  “Yes, of course!” He made a face at her unabashed triumph.

  She left the room smirking.

  Watching her go, a sudden burst of affection filled his chest and Jonen wondere
d what he would ever do without her.

  Once she disappeared out the door, Jonen tidied his desk of any work conducted prior to Mira's unexpected announcement. He got to his feet and smoothed the material of his light-coloured suit, hoping he was in the state to receive such an auspicious visitor. Cursing himself for not trimming his greying beard when he had the chance this morning, he grimaced as he ran his hand over his chin.

  Despite a receding hairline, he kept his once dark hair neat and that made grey streaks seem distinguished. Standing at an average height with a slight paunch at the belly, he projected the image of a man who took care of himself without being vain. At least he no longer dressed like a rumpled academic, even if he still felt like one.

  Mira returned a few seconds later with the young man following behind. He appeared younger than the media footage Jonen viewed on the Transbands. Of course, those programs were never reliable and it was a well-known fact the Imperator did not like his children in the public eye. It was only recently that Garryn had finally been captured on holo-vid as an adult.

  Garryn was a New Citizen, although one could be forgiven for mistaking Garryn as the Imperator's biological offspring. They resembled each other closely. Still, he did not present himself like royalty when he stood in Jonen's office. He wore the clothes of any young men Jonen might encounter in the city, clean-shaven, but his eyes belied his youthful features. They appeared older than his years.

  Jonen stepped out from behind his desk to greet him.

  “Garryn Prime, I am honoured.” Jonen extended a hand and, to his pleasure, the heir apparent returned the handshake with warmth.

  “Oh please, just call me Garryn.” The distaste at the title crossed his face in a slight wince.

  “Then I am pleased to meet you, Garryn.”

  This put Jonen at ease and dispelled his anxiousness at having such an important visitor. In that one sentence, Jonen gained an insight into how Garryn wished to be treated.

  “Please sit down,” Jonen guided him to the soft leather armchair in front of his large desk.