by David Winnie
“Uncle, you are family. I have learned much about family. Pity, you never met my husband’s family. I am so blessed.
“I expect you anticipate this bond between us will warrant you some mercy from your Khan. I am prepared to be merciful. All you have to do, before this congregation, is admit to me you are inferior.”
He looked as though she had slapped him. The unnerved look changed in milliseconds to one of fury. “Never!” he shouted. “You are a FREAK!” He cleared his throat and spat at the young Khan.
Her leap was too swift to follow. The knife in her right hand was pressed against his throat. She nodded to the guard on his right, who grabbed the hair on top of Ming si’s head and pulled it back, exposing his throat. A trickle of blood blossomed under the tip of her knife.
“Uncle, I don’t think I quite understand what you said,” Annika purred. “Can you repeat that?”
Ming si’s reply was a strangled growl.
Ah, I see your problem,” Annika said brightly. “You’re having trouble breathing! Here, let me see if I can help.” With that, she pressed the knife slowly into his trachea. He struggled, making a gurgling noise.
“I simply cannot understand you!” Annika feigned exasperation. “Perhaps you’re just not getting enough air?” She twisted the knife, opening the hole in his throat wider. Blood now flowed freely, staining the front of his dandy uniform. He began to convulse.
“Ah-HA!” she announced. “A seizure! My husband is a doctor; he has taught me numerous things I can do to stop a seizure. Let me see…” Her tongue curled out like a school child focusing on a difficult task. The knife punctured the back of his throat and began to probe the spongy muscle behind it, tapping about on the vertebrae. “Ah, right there.” The announcement was triumphant as the tip of the knife found its way between the bones.
“Hold still. I have to be very careful here,” she said in mock seriousness. The knife entered Ming si’s spinal column. Annika stared deep into his fluttering eyes. “Die, inferior!” she snarled as the knife wiggled side to side, severing the spine. Her uncle’s eyes rolled back and he slumped. Annika pulled the knife to her right, slicing open the side of his neck, and jumped back. Blood sprayed as a squeak escaped from Ming si’s mouth. The guard released him and he fell in a messy pile on the floor. Blood pooled under his body and around his head.
She stood over his body, breathing heavily. His blood had sprayed on her, a trickle ran down the side of her face. She licked and tasted it, then spat. The courtiers stepped back, for Annika’s visage was wild, feral.
Dohlman appeared with a towel. She wiped her knife and returned it to its place on her arm.
She took her place at her throne. Two guards bent to drag the body away. “No,” she ordered, “Leave it there for now. Summon my mother.”
Lorraine entered Annika’s Throne Room minutes later. Her hands were bound in front of her. Annika gave her a quick scan. Her mother’s thoughts toward Annika were bitter, hateful. There was nothing left between them, save for resentment and animosity.
The Empress shrugged at the sight of the body of Ming si. She stepped back to avoid the pool of blood. “You little fool!” she hissed, “He was a tool, but a useful tool. Now there is nothing I can do to save you.”
“Save me?” Annika asked incredulously. “Save…me? From what? Your ambition? Your inferior plans? Just what were you going to save me from, Mother?” “
“All this!” The Empress Lorraine De L’Orange neKhan waved her hands. Bright sun reflected off the chains holding her, long fingernails glittering. “This joke they call a court. This illusion of power they’ve fed you since before you were born! You little freak, don’t you realize you’re nothing more than an obscene experiment? Do you really think you run anything here? You just murdered the last tool I had to protect you. You’ll be on your own now, little Red. A pitiful toy in their sad little game.”
She straightened herself regally. “Go ahead. Kill me. Kill me like you did your uncle. Kill me like all those poor souls you’ve murdered. What’s one more dead body to a genetic freak show like you?”
“No, Mother, I won’t kill you.” Annika said. “I won’t make you a martyr. Be grateful, such a small thing as an egg you donated bound us forever together. It is the only thing saving your life.
“My heirs won’t have to suffer the way my brothers, sisters and I did. Your ambition outweighed any love you could have shown us. My husband and I will not repeat that mistake.” Her hand unconsciously rubbed her belly.
“I have decided I will not kill my own mother, much as you deserve it,” the Khan announced. “Nor will I take from you your title of Empress, since it seems to be the only thing you value in life.
“You are to go to the temple on Nikuman and there fulfill a life of silent service to the prisoner miners there. You will take a vow of silence and never speak again. I have instructed the bonzes if you cannot keep your mouth silent, then they are to remove your tongue. I will allow you to keep your title of Empress, but I strip you of your name. When you die, an empty urn will be placed beside the urn of my father, so he can say he had a wife. But your body will be consigned to the compost heap, so my Empire may reap value from your worthless body. Be gone.”
The nameless empress was led away, still regal as she went to her fate.
Annika stood. “I now claim my title and crown. There cannot be two Empresses in the Empire. Therefore, at my coronation, I will take the title of Queen.”
Annika Raudona Russolov Khan, Goddess Queen of Terra, future Queen of the Terran Empire, straightened herself. She held her head imperiously high. She smoothed a hand over her uniform, Perfect. Her gold hair blazed in the sunlight as she marched out of her Throne Room.
Chapter 30
Thousands of workers, their gray uniforms adorned today with a red arm band, installed temporary seats to create a massive bowl on the Plaza of Giza Palace. The War Council knew it was critically important that every being in the known galaxy, particularly the governments surrounding the Terran Empire, see the coronation of the new Khan.
Four legions in combat gear marched into the Plaza. They formed long rows along the entire parade route. They were followed by crews from the fleet, then various service corps. Leaders of the Empire’s worlds entered, each wearing cotton boots to comply with the Great Khan’s order that no non-Terran foot ever again touch Terra’s precious soil. First Daughter of the Vinithri, the Empires most valued ally, lead the procession, as was her right. Other non-human species, member worlds of the Empire, followed.
The affiliated worlds entered next. From smaller, less advanced planets in the Terran Empire, many had never been off their home worlds. Most, such as the Eldest of the Mykonos, craned their heads (or what passed for heads) about, marveling at the diversity of the Empire.
The delegation from the Galactic Council arrived. The president of that body was a Trilithon, a gaseous being wearing an encounter suit. S/he was accompanied by one hundred twenty-five beings from the council, including ten Bougartd. Security had wanted them fitted with tracking collars, but the Khan had forbidden it. “They are my guests,” she informed Howland. “Let us be magnanimous and welcoming.”
An ancient bugle sounded, cue for a column of a thousand horsemen to enter the Plaza. At the front was the Crown Princess. For the ceremony, she wore the traditional leather breeches and jerkin of her ancient ancestors, a skin cap and a cape of bear skin. A quiver of arrows and a bow adorned her saddle.
The thousand riders that accompanied her were dressed in variations of her uniform. Yuri rode at her right side. Admiral Thiessen and Gavin Howland were adjacent to Yuri. Behind them, a rider carried the horns and tail of the ox standard of the Khan. Once they passed the Necropolis entryway, there was a shout and Annika led her horde in a charge across the Plaza.
Annika, Yuri and her chiefs stormed up the stairway leading to the stage. Yuri leapt off his horse and helped his pregnant wife to dismount. Annika swaggered to the center of the
stage, placed her hands on her hips and raised her chin imperiously. With her voice amplified by a concealed microphone, her loud declaration carried across the city and the Empire.
“I am Crown Princess Annika Raudona Russolov Khan. Goddess/Queen of Terra. I claim this Empire mine, for all my people. Is there anyone here who would challenge me for my crown?” It was theater, but of deadly earnestness. Years before, at her Great Grandfather Zanther Khan’s coronation, a drunk had stumbled down to challenge the Khan. Zanther had slain him on the spot.
No being challenged the diminutive Khan. Her cape swirling, she spun, tramped to her throne and sat with a flourish.
Warlord Thor Thiessen ne-Khan stepped forward, bearing a plain, steel sword. “Highness, you are now the sword and shield of the Empire. Behind you stand ready the sons and daughters of all Terra. Let this sword serve to represent that you alone stand between your people and the evil which seeks to destroy us.” Annika took the sword in her right hand, stabbing the tip into the floor.
Noire stepped before his sister, handing her a bullwhip. “My Khan, you are now the defender of our most sacred commandments, the Laws of Angkor Khan, greatest of all Khans. May this whip prompt you to uphold the law against all who would threaten or disobey.” Annika accepted the whip. She stood, uncoiled it, then spun it around and cracked it.
All the Terrans, as well as the member world representatives, stood and bowed. In a single voice, they pledged, “I swear obedience, my Khan!” Annika coiled the whip and fastened it to her belt.
Teresa strode forward, bearing a falcon on her arm. “My Khan, you are our example of Terran pride, fierceness, honor and mercy. Be reminded by this falcon, to keep Terra forever mighty and free.” Teresa placed the falcon on Annika’s arm and removed the fierce raptor’s hood. The crowd cheered, “HooooOOOO! HooooOOOO! HooooOOOO!”
Annika cried “VICTORIOUS! For ten thousand years!” The falcon flew from her arm with a powerful stroke.
The crown floated toward the Queen-to-be on a red pillow borne by an awestruck page boy. It gleamed in the sunlight, the steel circlet and hoops polished to a fine sheen. Its cap was now the blood red of Annika’s file, replacing the burnt orange of her father.
Gavin Howland lifted the crown and held it high. “Crown Princess Annika Raudona Russolov Khan, fifteenth reincarnate of our beloved founder, Angkor Khan, the Gods who created you watched you carefully for imperfection, have declared you most perfect of all their children and selected you to succeed your father, Robert De L’Orange Khan. Do you now accept the mantle and crown as the Queen of the Terran Empire and Guardian of the Law?”
“I do,” Annika declared, head held high. She knelt upon the red pillow the page had placed before the throne.
Gavin Howland cried out, “Gods above, Gods below, Gods of the wind and sky! Gods of the grasses and the endless steppes! Look with favor as I crown your daughter and declare her Queen Annika Raudona Russolov Khan of the Terran Empire!” He lowered the heavy crown on her head and seated it firmly.
He dropped to a knee and proffered his hand, helping the pregnant Queen rise. Once on her feet, she raised the sword to the crowd, as the whole of the Empire was seized with joyous rapture.
Her first order of business was to summon her War Council. The entire wing of the palace around the Council Chamber had been emptied and secured. The desks had been replaced with a large oval black topped table, holo emitters and imbedded keyboards. Vid screens were mounted to the walls, each imaging a planet or streaming statistics. The Khan had ordered all the council chambers to be so outfitted.
The War Council now stood at twenty-four, plus the Queen. She had changed into her Captain’s uniform and taken her seat at the war table. Across her knees lay the sword of her office.
“My Empire must be secure,” she declared. “We will never again let a single Terran die unavenged, nor allow any Ouste-Woorldaire to dictate to Terra. Never! What is our plan?”
Admiral Thiessen stood. “If it pleases your Majesty,” he stated, “we have been working on such a strategy.” The holo emitter displayed a star field, swathed in numerous colors. “This is the Sagittarius Arm,” he indicated. “This blue streak is Terra. This red area here, the Bougartd. The yellow is the Galactic Council. As mighty as they are, the Bougartd has tied itself with the Galactic Council. And this works to our advantage. The Bougartd economy depends on the Council. Their industrial capability is limited because they would rather intimidate and steal. Intelligence is not highly valued by the Bougartd society. Brute strength and intimidation is. As such, the Galactic Council uses the Bougartd as their means of protection and to keep the other worlds in line.
“Presently, we are not prepared to defeat the Bougartd. We have the ships, yes. But the criminal actions by the Imperial Council have left us in a poor state of repair and training. Further, if you look closely at our Empire…” he touched a control on the table. The blue area representing Terra expanded, the rest of the map disappeared. There were dozens of dark spots riddling the representation. “There are too many unaffiliated systems within our borders. These provide prime jumping off points for Bougartd raiders.
“Our plan is to acquire these non-aligned worlds. They will be given the opportunity to join us willingly. But, should they refuse our offer, then they shall be put to the sword, thereby giving our Fleet and our Army needed training. I would estimate no more than twenty years will be sufficient to prepare for our all-out assault on Bougartd space. And once the Bougartd fall, the Galactic Council will crumble behind them.” Thiessen sat.
Noire stood. “Imperial Intelligence has the necessary assets on most of the non-aligned worlds. I anticipate we will have successfully infiltrated the rest within the year. I have provided this War Council with the available information we have gathered on our neighbors. We also have sapper units on each world, prepared to start covert operations in support of our diplomats. Or our army.” He returned to his seat.
“Ladies. Gentlemen.” Annika leaned forward. “I approve this plan. Warn my enemies; I am coming.”
Chapter 31
In the Giza nursery, the eight three-year-old children assembled. Their classes for the day had been cancelled. The children were taken back to the dormitory and made to dress in their finest clothing. Stand straight! Chins up! Not a wrinkle on your uniforms, not a hair out of place! The Proctors took note of which were handling the change in schedule and who was having difficulty.
The head Proctor spoke in gentle, but firm voice. “Children, you are being afforded a remarkable opportunity. Since the times of your Great Grandfather Angkor Khan, the children of the Khan have not met their parents until the Presentation Day at age five. However, your mother and father, Queen Annika and Prince Yuri, would very much like to meet you today. Isn’t that exciting?”
The tiny girl with blonde hair and a blue dress wailed. “What did we do wrong, Proctor?” Her crying instigated mass weeping. The Proctors took notes, registering how the children reacted to this change.
“You have done nothing wrong,” said the Proctor. “The Queen is quite interested in each of your development. And I believe she has a surprise for you. Now, hurry, and get in line. She is coming.”
The door opened and a pretty lady with yellow hair entered with a tall man who had curly hair and moustache. The children all bowed, except the Blue, who stood, shaking, mouth open and eyes wide.
Annika knelt before the terrified little girl and took her in her arms. “Sweetie, Shhhhhh, it’s all right,” Annika cooed in the child’s ear. “I’m your mommy. You don’t have to be afraid.” She kissed the Blue softly on the cheek. “This is your papa.” Yuri knelt and wrapped his arms around the child.
“Hello,” he said in a tender voice. “I have been so looking forward to meeting you.”
Annika struggled to her feet. “We have looked forward to meeting all of you!” she exclaimed. A chair was provided and she sat. “Come, let me see you all.” The children gathered around her, curious but c
autious. She opened her arms and, in turn, hugged and kissed each one. Yuri still stood, holding Blue in his arms. Her head lay on his shoulder and she was smiling.
A boy wearing grey poked Annika in the stomach. “Mommy, you sure are fat.”
“Silver!” a Proctor said sharply, “what have we said about touching people?”
“But she is fat!” the little boy protested.
Annika looked to the Proctor. “Silver?” she wondered. It was then she noticed there was no child wearing black.
“Silver, asking questions is good,” his mother explained. “I am big right now. But that’s one of the surprises your papa and I have for you. Who knows what pregnant means?”
The girl in yellow waved her hand. “It means when people are going to have a regular baby the regular way.” Yellow couldn’t hide her glee at being first to answer.
“Yes! Very good, Yellow!” Annika said. “Goodness, you remind me so much of your Aunt Teresa. She was Yellow File, too.
“So, children, the reason why Mommy is so big is - I’m going to have a baby. You will all have a younger brother in just a few months.”
“Will he be an inferior?” asked the Green boy.
Annika shook her head. “He can’t be Khan. But he will be every bit your younger brother. Your papa and I will love him as much as we love each of you.”
Blue asked Yuri, “Is that true? Do you love me, Papa?”
“Of course, I do, little one,” he replied. “I love each one of you. And your little brother inside your mommy. And I love your mommy very, very much.”
“Now for our other surprise,” announced Annika. “Christmas will be in two weeks. Your papa and I normally go back to Russia for the holiday. But this year, we have decided to have Christmas right here, in the palace! Grandpa Andrei and Grandmother Clara will be here. Oh, it will be such a grand time!”