by David Winnie
Annika yawned. Yuri said quietly, “You have a big day tomorrow. Maybe you should go to bed.”
Annika pointed down at the Plaza. “How can I sleep when they aren’t?” she demanded. But she yawned again and dozed off. He stood and lovingly lifted his petite friend. In her room, he called, “Dohlman?” When the servant appeared, Yuri nodded at the bed. Dohlman turned down the covers and Yuri kissed her forehead and tucked her in. As he was leaving, her eyes opened.
“Yuri?” she said. “Please stay, just until I fall asleep. Please?” He sat on the edge of the bed, stroking her hair. Smiling, her eyes closed and she drifted off to sleep. He started to stand and she woke.
“No, Yuri, please stay.”
She made room and he lay on top of the covers, holding her. He stroked her head softly and again she drifted off to sleep.
He removed his arm and started to slide off the bed again.
“No, Yuri, don’t go. Not yet.” Her grip was steel on his arm.
Yuri called Dohlman again and gave him specific instructions. Minutes later, a servant arrived, carrying a cup of warm milk. “It is what my mother gave me when I couldn’t sleep,” he told her. A little white lie. It was the milk and nutmeg his mother would give him, but he had also added a relaxant to help her sleep. She needed rest more than anything right now, the physician in him said.
It worked as he hoped. Annika drifted off again, only this time when he removed his hand, she curled her own hand to her chest and continued to sleep.
He went to his own room and crawled into bed. Were he not so tired, he supposed, he would have marveled at the soft, silken sheets and thick down comforter on the bed in his own room. He soon drifted off to sleep.
And awoke to screaming! The clock said it had been less than an hour. Surely, it couldn’t be Annika! He leapt from his bed and ran across the suite to her room where she sat, bolt upright in her bed. Her hands were gripping and tearing at her hair, her eyes wide open, unseeing. Her scream was long, drawn out. She would exhaust her breath, whimper, and scream again.
Yuri sat on her bed, wrapped his arms around her and began to gently shake her. “Annika! It’s O.K. You’re safe. I’m right here, Shhhhhh…” he repeated over and over. She finally stopped the screaming, gasping, gulping and hiccupping. Her face was wet and her eyes red, but she was focusing now, not on the terrors of her dreams, but of her room, safe in the palace. Yuri held her and continued his soft chant, managed to lay her back on her pillow.
He sat longer this time. “They’re all dead, Yuri,” she whispered at one point. “They’re all dead. I couldn’t stop the bad people. How can I ever make up for all of them dying? How can I? I’m supposed to be able to protect them all, Yuri. That’s what it is to be Khan. To protect all my people. Oh, Yuri.” She started to drift off again, but snapped her eyes open once more.
“Yuri, please stay tonight with me,” she pleaded. “Here, in my bed. I can’t be alone tonight. Please, Yuri!”
Yuri was perplexed. Although they were both of age, Yuri wasn’t sure how the palace would react if he was caught in bed with the young girl. “But,” he argued with himself, “there is nothing improper going on. She needs me; I must be with her.” Annika immediately rolled over and snuggled in close. Her sigh was deep as she fell asleep instantly. Yuri wrapped a guardian arm around her and drifted off to sleep as well.
Chapter 9
Annika awakened slowly, aware of the warm body next to her. She wasn’t surprised; of course, it was Yuri. With sleepy eyes widened, she examined the face alongside hers.
His nose was awfully large, she giggled to herself. It wheezed as he exhaled. And he snored! A great, snorting snarl escaped from his gaping mouth and nose as he inhaled. Then the funny wheeze as he exhaled. In his sleep, Yuri’s brow had relaxed, softened. It was as though someone had drawn two thin line across and added fine, brown hair. His hairline was higher than she remembered. Would he go bald, she wondered? She liked his hair. He had trimmed his moustache, thin like his brow. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that. His chin, below his gaping, snoring mouth, was squarer than hers.
Annika admired him for long minutes before laying her head on his chest and listening to the air whooshing in and out of his lungs each breath. And the steady thrum-thrum-thrum of his heart. Does his heart know I am here? She wrapped her arm around him.
“Well, I suppose I could get used to sleeping in a castle if I got to wake up to a beautiful princess every morning,” Yuri rumbled, stroking her hair.
Annika rubbed her face against his nightshirt. “Well,” she replied, “I’m used to waking up to more comfortable pillows. But your scrawny chest will do, I suppose, in a pinch.”
Dohlman appeared. “Good morning, Ma’am, Doctor,” he announced. “I have taken the liberty of holding breakfast service at the door until you are presentable. Your baths are drawn and clothing laid out. Doctor, a servant brought over your belongings from your hotel; you’ll find them laid out in your room and bath. Ma’am, your bath is also waiting. General Han sent a new uniform over last night. I examined it and have had the appropriate alterations made. I should hope it fits better. I will have your schedules ready when you come out for breakfast.” The holographic butler disappeared.
“Well, he didn’t send in the troops to drag me off,” Yuri noted.
“Nope,” Annika replied, “They work for me. Still, I’ve learned when Dohlman says your schedule and clothing are laid out, it means you’re probably running behind.” With a quick kiss, she left him to the duty that called her, first padding to her bath.
After quick, brisk calisthenics to get the blood pumping. Annika decided against the bath for a quick shower. A servant appeared and helped her braid her hair. The already made up bed boasted an Imperial Army uniform, smoothly laid upon the bed’s gold eiderdown. She fingered the material of a sleeve. The dark green cloth and brown leather were authentic. General Han was sending her a message, of that she was sure. Good, she thought. In the days and years ahead, support of the armed forces would be critical.
She dressed carefully in the perfectly fitted uniform. How does Dohlman do it? She admired herself in the mirror after she dressed. The high collar, so loose and irritating the day before, was trim and comfortable Overall perfection, I’d say. Annika Raudona was ready for whatever the day might bring.
Breakfast arrived. Yuri had already poured his coffee when she joined him at the table, selected a slice of toast and marmalade with a cup of tea. “That’s all?” Yuri asked.
“Yes. I’m not very big, so I don’t eat much in the mornings. Plus, this is when I service my electrolytes.” She produced a small, tapered device that she pressed against her neck. After a moment, she examined its surface and raised a single finger to one of the servants.
Annika finished her toast just as the servant returned with a tray bearing two glasses and a pitcher. One glass was filled with the silvery-grey colored fluid. Annika drank the solution, then reached for a glass of water, drank it quickly, reached out for a second, then a third glass. She was gasping slightly when she finished, wiping her mouth delicately with a napkin. “Eighteen years and I still don’t like the taste,” she told him.
They regarded the schedules Dohlman provided. Yuri would make rounds in the local hospitals for his assigned patients from yesterday’s attack. Annika saw her schedule and groaned. Her day was to be tied up with the Imperial Council. Bureaucrats and politicians. She shuddered, knowing she was surely the lead topic of their day.
Breakfast finished, the young couple embraced, and went to face the day.
The Imperial Palaces throughout the Terran Empire are as varied as the one hundred fifty worlds upon which they were built. Yet, there were common elements to each palace.
The first were the Throne Rooms. Each was a large, airy room with plenty of light and color. A raised dais with thrones for the Khan and their partner stood at one end of the chamber. Artwork of the world was displayed to recognize that area’s contributions
to the Empire.
The Imperial Council chambers, however, were anything but as grand and glorious. Most were located under the Throne Rooms, as to remind all that they were the foundation of the Empire, that their work kept the Empire growing and thriving.
On Terra, the Council room was dark with a low ceiling. The walls were of chiseled stone without decoration. The room was circled on three sides by forty heavy timber desks, their number physically divided by a stairway up the center of the far wall to the Throne of the Khan. To the Khan’s left was the Prime Minister and the nineteen ministers assigned to the posts of managing the domestic affairs of State. On the right was the Defense Minister and the nineteen assigned to the physical safety and stability the Empire.
The Throne of the Khan was always the largest and least elaborate chair in the room. It was unpadded, the legends say, to ensure the Khan would remain attentive to the affairs of state.
A lit spot was in the center of the room. Here, supplicants would stand in full view of the Council for examination.
Annika stood in the circle of light and studied the final outstanding feature of the Khan’s Throne. Sitting on the unpadded seat of the unadorned throne was the Crown of the Empire. It sat on the throne when the Khan wasn’t present. In this case, the crown represented the last Khan, dead for sixteen years.
Her father.
As with many of the symbols left behind by Angkor Khan, the crown was dazzling in its simplicity. It was a plain, unadorned steel circlet, two half hoops arching across the top. A rivet joined the hoops where they intersected and a ring of ermine wrapped around the lower rim of the crown. Her father had been Robert L’Orange Khan of the Orange File. Thus, the cap inside the crown was a regal burnt ginger.
Annika waited, calm, with her hands behind her back. A neural blocker had been placed on her head; the ministers did not want this witness to read their thoughts. They were the guardians of the Empire for now. They wanted her to know it.
And some had very good reason to not allow her in the room with her telepathic powers. They had much to hide and far more to lose.
Morris Stype, the Prime Minister, stood. A tall, gaunt man, his ninety years disguised by a powerful presence and energy. Minister Stype had allowed his hair to turn a distinguished white, not bothered by the signs of aging. Morris had gentle eyes on his patrician face, a combination that would put the subjects he scrutinized at ease while being verbally dissected and exposed.
He had served the Empire for more than sixty years. The girl, Annika, reminded him of his great granddaughter. He was inclined to be gentle.
The Prime Minister cleared his throat. “Greeting, Heir Red File, Annika Raudona. Please accept the condolences of this Council for your loss. If you would please, explain your actions for the horrible incident yesterday. Be thorough, my dear.”
Annika spoke for over an hour. Of the ceremony and her participation in it. The attack, and finding her brothers and sister, dying and dead. Her escape to the command center. Finished, she set her jaw and awaited the Council’s questions.
The ministers talked amongst themselves for a few minutes, then the Prime Minister gaveled the room back to order. “We shall begin our interview now, beginning with my counterpart, Minister Gavin Howland, of Defense.”
The Defense Minister clasped his hands together and asked, “Miss, one of your first actions yesterday was to order the arrest of General Teague, commanding officer of the Central Command. Might I ask why?”
“Certainly, Minister,” Annika answered. “When I arrived, I found General Han, his deputy, running the center. I asked where General Teague was. Teague had been there earlier in the morning, that much was confirmed. Before the attack began, he slipped away, abandoning his post. I ordered him arrested, pending the investigation of the attack that killed members of my family.”
“Has General Teague been found and arrested?” she heard someone ask.
“General Teague is still missing,” replied the Defense Minister, “and several of his key officers are absent as well. I find this curious. I have enlisted the aid of the ministries of Imperial Intelligence and Internal Security. I agree with the heir; I would like to know their whereabouts as well.” He motioned in Annika’s direction. “I have one more question. Why are you wearing an Imperial Uniform?”
Annika raised her chin. “When I arrived at the center, my clothing was torn and soiled with the blood of my family. General Han sent me to clean up and change. They found me a uniform to wear. This morning the General sent me a uniform that fits better. I believe he was honoring me for yesterday. It is my hope that I honor both General Han and the rest of our soldiers when I wear it.”
Many of the ministers nodded. “You do well to honor us for your actions yesterday, Annika Raudona,” cried a voice from her right.
“If I can be so bold and ask a question.” The voice wheezed from a minister to the left of the Prime Minister, who recognized the minister of Justice.
The Justice Minister, an odious, obese man gurgled as he scowled at Annika. “While I respect the actions of young Miss Raudona, I have a question I need answered. Miss, after you left the Command Center last night, you were seen in the company of a young man. Might I ask the name of this young man?”
“Why, certainly,” Annika replied, “you may ask away.” She stood there for a long moment.
“Well?” wheezed the Justice Minister.
“Well, what?” the girl asked.
“Well, are you going to tell us who the young man was?” He gurgled now.
“No,” was her answer.
“NO?” asked the surprised minister, unused to being denied anything.
“No,” she said. “Who he is and what we did or did not do are not your business.”
“I believe it is my business,” came the angry reply, “as it may relate to the good of the Empire.”
Annika glared at the leering man. She wished she hadn’t agreed to wear the glarpshite neural blocker.
“Are you asking this question as part of a criminal investigation?” Annika asked.
The minster blustered. “I said nothing of a criminal investigation,” he condescended. “I merely asked the name of the young man you spent time with last night in your suite.”
“And I refuse to answer,” was Annika’s forceful reply. “I am now an adult by Terran law. If you are not conducting a criminal investigation, then I am invoking the Law of Privacy. If you cannot show the intent of a criminal investigation or the evidence of a crime, then I have no need to tell you who may or may not have been in my suite last night, no matter how much your perverse self-desires to know.” The room erupted in laughter.
A page hurried to the Prime Minister and handed him a note. “I declare this hearing suspended,” he announced after reading it. “We have an extremely important witness who wishes to address the Council on a matter of grave importance to the Empire.” The Council murmured and grew still as the doors were opened.
Chapter 10
Two rows of four elderly men and women entered the room. All of them were balding and wearing saffron robes. Each robe had a sash of a different color. They formed a line eight wide behind Annika. One, wearing the red sash, stepped forward to the center of the Council and bowed deeply. Standing, he announced, “I am Tahn, chair of the Red File and first among the File Committee. I will speak to this Council.”
The Prime Minister nodded. “You honor us with your presence, Master Tahn,” he said.
Tahn began. “After the tragic events of yesterday, the File Committee met last evening to discuss what was to be done. After our discussions, we retired to our rooms to reflect and meditate on the question: did the events of yesterday prevent us from doing our assigned job of selecting the next Crown Prince or Princess, and thereby the next Khan? This morning, we assembled again and voiced our consciences. Nothing about the selection of the new heir has been disturbed. Our deliberations and meditations on this subject have not been affected. We have decided to r
eveal who each of us has determined to be the next Khan.”
He stepped back in line. All eight File Committee members called out, “As laid down by the Laws of our benefactor, leader and father of our modern law, the Emperor Angkor Khan, I affirm I have sought the guidance of the Gods above.” Each reached into their robe and removed a golden envelope and held it above their head with both hands. The eight continued their chant, “As has been revealed to me, I now reveal to you. Here is my selection for the fifteenth reincarnation of the Angkor Khan.”
There was a single ripping noise as they tore the ends off the envelopes. They reached in together and extracted a colored card.
Eight Red cards.
The entire room immediately leaped to its collective feet and bowed deeply. Annika reveled in the achievement of her dreams. It had happened. It had really happened. Whether before a crowd of millions or in the closed chamber of ministers, the Gods had spoken.
She was superior.
All before her were inferior.
She was Annika Raudona …KHAN!
She ascended the stairs to what was now her throne. Reverently, she lifted her father’s crown. “My father, Emperor Robert De L’Orange Khan, has passed from this world and into the lands of the eternal. Father, rest now as I, Annika Raudona, assumes the mantle of our duties.” She handed the crown to a page, ordering, “Place this in my safest stronghold until I ascend to my Throne.” He bowed and carried it from the room.
The throne was set to the height of her father, tall even for a Terran man. With one hand on an armrest, Annika made a hop and twisted into the chair. Hands in her lap, she held her royal head high.
Morris Stype straightened from his bow. “Highness, receive now the affection of your Council.” The whole of the Council raised their hands high above their heads, calling out, “HooooOOOO, HooooOOOO, HooooOOOO!” Enthusiastic applause followed.