Tales of the Spinward March Book 2: The Red Queen

by David Winnie

  “What is there left to discuss?” challenged the stranger. “We all know what has to be done.’

  “We’re talking about the Khan,” Robert stated.

  “Damn you, we’re talking about my mother. Your mother, too.” The Crown Prince glared at his brother and best friend.

  “She is our sister, “Teresa’s voice was soft. “Don’t you think this pains us as well?”

  “Noire, Teresa and I have known her the longest,” spat the stranger. “She has much to answer for.”

  “Hasn’t what she has done for the Empire atoned for any sin?” asked Noire.

  “She has acquitted herself well, admirably.” Teresa argued.

  “I have forgiven her for what she has done,” the stranger answered. “The Empire today is far safer than when she started. But her time has passed. She clings to power even as her mind is failing her. I cannot sit back and watch her destroy all she has created. I am dying already. Let my legacy save hers.”

  “Uncle, we are not asking you to do this,” Pico spoke up.

  “No, Niece, I am volunteering. It is a terrible thing we are contemplating. It violates the Laws of Angkor Khan. My death will be a relief.”

  “You cannot be a part of this,” Noire told the Crown Prince

  “I know. Nor can my brother. We stand too much to gain when she dies and far more to lose should our names be associated with her death.”

  “This is a family matter; we shall have the family deal with it,” Noire stated.

  “It is a matter of the Empire,” argued Dorian.

  “Exactly. And we must speak for the Empire. She is the legend that will be remembered. Who she has become must never be allowed to tarnish that reputation.” The stranger was adamant.

  “That which lives, grows. That which does not grow, dies.” Pico quoted her grandmother.

  “Yes, exactly, Niece. We have all heard her say that for decades. She is dying before us and the Empire. We must give her dignity.” Noire sighed.

  “Can this be a dignified thing?” Anja spoke for the first time.

  “Is not doing this dignified? I fear we agree,” Teresa announced

  Nods all around signified agreement.

  “When do we do this? “asked Pico.

  “The sooner the better. I for one cannot bear to watch her like this another day. And my own time draws short.” The stranger was curt.

  “Today, then,” announced Noire.

  The conspirators went to make their preparations.

  Silent, unjudging, the naked stars saw it all.

  The War Council that morning was a disaster.

  She was early, as always, waiting on them to file in as she studied the holo projected above the table of the Empire. Fifteen hundred stars, over ten thousand inhabited worlds and stations, projected in a grand blue streak across the Sagittarius Arm.

  They stood by their chairs, waiting for her to start the meeting. Her emerald eyes bore into each of the twenty-four of them, seeking. Finally, she broke the terrible silence. “What is the status of the Bougartd?”

  “The reclamation of their world stands at seventy per cent,” reported General Ciejo. “I estimate we shall have the entire project completed on time in fifteen years. At that point, we project the system will produce a minimum of thirty five percent above initial estimates.”

  “Reclamation. Productivity estimations,” her fist pounded the table. “That is not what I asked. What of the Bougartd problem? When do we expect their extinction?” There were worried looks around the table.

  “Highness, the Bougartd are an enslaved race,” explained General Ciejo. “As such, they have certain rights. They are at a manageable population now and have become a productive world.”

  “No!” she yelled again. “They are a vile, animal breed, beneath my contempt. They ought to have been exterminated by now. General Gart, what is the closest bombardment group to Bougartd?”

  Gart pressed a key and responded, “The 496th, General Cornell,” he reported. “But, my Khan, shouldn’t we send a warning to Bougartd first? To allow our citizens and troops to get off world?”

  “Those traitors?” she asked incredulously. “Those collaborators? They have been on Bougartd for how many years and failed to exterminate those foul beasts. No, let them die under my fury like the animals.” She came around the table and patted her son on the cheek. “You see, my son, this is how a Khan acts,” she said, condescension dripping from her voice.

  “Authoritative, decisive, unrelenting. I was nearly murdered by these beasts on my Naming Day. My father was murdered by these beasts. There is evidence that they poisoned your father with Gilbert syndrome. I will eradicate the vermin that are the Bougartd. When you are Khan, you will understand.”

  Annika hobbled back to her throne. “What are you doing today to serve my Empire?” she demanded, lecturing, berating and screaming furiously at her War Council. None dared interrupt her when she was like this. A month ago, a General had interrupted her while she raged. She buried her knife in his throat and gloated while he died.

  “And you, Admiral Thiessen, what do you have to say to these?” She stared into a vacant space next to her, nodded her head several times. “You see?” she pointed. “This is the mark of the Warlord for my Empire. This is the standard you should all aspire to. Why, if I had a dozen men like my Uncle no enemy could stand up to Terra! Instead, I am left with a bunch of stumblebums, geshaldocs and cowards.” She limped toward the door. “PAH! I am done with all of you.”

  Pico entered the Throne Room through a side door. It seemed pretentious to her to enter through the grand entrance, the giant doors at the far end of the room. They were old and heavy, protesting with an annoying squeak any time they were opened. They hadn’t been opened in years, so doubtlessly the hinges would gripe loudly if they had to do their job.

  The Throne Room was so much smaller than she remembered. When she was a child, Grandmother and Grandfather had held elaborate parties for the family, particularly at Christmas.

  After Grandfather Yuri died, Grandmother still held Christmas every January seventh, but rather than sing and dance with her grandchildren, she would sit on her throne, dressed all in black and watch the merrymaking. Pico brought her own children while they were young, to Grandmother’s Christmas, but it got sadder and sadder every year. Finally, when Pico’s oldest child left home, she and her husband stayed home for the holiday.

  Her footsteps echoed through the grand hall. It was dank now, dark. Gauzy curtains hung over all the windows, filtering the sunlight. None of the chandeliers were lit. Shadows leading to alcoves and egresses littered what was once bright and grandiose.

  The only noise, save for Pico’s footsteps, was the steady sawing of the Queen’s snoring. Her head was braced by her left arm, a steady buzz emitting from the old woman. Pico stood at the foot of the dais. Great Uncle Noire had warned her that Grandmother still retained her assassin’s knife. Just last week, a maid had made the near fatal mistake of touching the Queen while she napped. The poor girl was expected to survive, but would bear the scar across her neck for the rest of her life.

  “Grandmother? Are you awake, Grandmother?” asked Pico.

  “Who wants to know?” grumbled the old woman.

  “Pico, Grandmother. Your granddaughter.”

  I know you are my granddaughter. I’m ninety years old, not stupid. Why are you here?” Annika snapped.

  “It’s Tuesday, Grandmother. I come by every Tuesday to have lunch with you.”

  Annika straightened up, smiling. “That’s right, Tuesday!” she sounded so happy. “I have lunch with my granddaughter Pico on Tuesday! But where is your mother, dear? I so much would like to see your mother today.”

  “Mama’s dead, remember, Grandmother? She died on the rescue mission to Spencer station, ten years ago,” Pico stifled a sob. Mother’s death was painful still.

  “Oh, yes, I remember now. Silly girl, your mother, I told her not to go. She never listened to me,
you know. Still, I wish she were here. I would like to have lunch with her today. It’s Tuesday.”

  Pico offered a supporting hand. The Queen took it and pulled herself to her feet, then balanced with it as she stepped down the dais. She held her granddaughter’s arm on the trek through the palace.

  “Foolish me. I didn’t get up and do my stretching and exercise first thing when I got out of bed this morning,” rambled Annika. “The Proctors warned me I must exercise every day. That’s all I need, you know, just some exercise, and then you just watch me run circles around you!”

  They arrived at the Garden of the Blue Waters.

  “This was your grandfather’s favorite place to eat. And today is Tuesday, so they’re serving fish! I love fish. Yuri told me once, I think, that fish is good brain food.”

  The grandmother tapped her temple. “Master Tahn gave me the superior brain, but I have to take good care of it. That’s why I like to eat a lot of fish.”

  Lunch was a poached salmon. The Queen was ecstatic, she loved salmon most of all. Pico was careful in selecting the meal for grandmother, today of all days. The salmon was genetically engineered and expensive, of course, since the last of that species had died off following the War of the Five Cities. The vegetables had been steamed to perfection. Dessert was a decadent chocolate cake. The Queen allowed herself to be convinced by Pico to have a second slice.

  Pico felt the feathery touch in her mind.

  “It is done, Cousin. Her guards are all immobilized. Father and his guest are waiting.”

  The Queen gave an immense yawn.

  “I need to go to my room, Granddaughter. I want to take a nap.”

  “Let’s go back to the Throne Room for just a minute, Grandmother. I have a surprise there for you.” Pico’s heart lurched.

  “A surprise? For me?” gasped Annika. “It’s not my birthday and it’s not Christmas. What is it?”

  “You’ll have to come see.”

  “Can it wait until after my nap?”

  “No, Grandmother. You’ll want to see it before. Then I’ll walk with you back to your room for your nap. Okay?”

  “All right. I’ll bet it’s a good surprise.” The Queen pushed back her chair and rose on shaky legs. “I like surprises and you always have had the best surprises, Pico. That’s why Grandmother loves you so.”

  Pico’s heart ached to hear Grandmother’s declaration of love. Her part of the conspiracy was to tire grandmother out, weaken her defenses. While elderly and infirmed with her failing superior brain, the Queen was still a formidable telepath. Pico concentrated on keeping her mental shields in place.

  They entered the dark hall. Pico saw them at the far doorway, sirens. Concealed around the room in the shadows, they began their slow, tranquil melody.

  “Sirens! Oh, Pico, I love sirens. They make me feel so good, so happy. But why here in my throne room? Why not in my chambers where I could fall to sleep?” asked the puzzled old woman.

  “They’re not the surprise, Grandmother. There is your surprise, by the door.”

  Annika squinted. Her eyesight wasn’t what it had once been. She could make out a pair of figures coming toward her.

  “Noire! Teresa! So wonderful to see you! Is Eve with you?”

  “She’s nearby, Sister, watching the door.”

  “Oh, do have her come give her grandmother a kiss. But, I don’t understand. I saw you all Sunday, for supper. What is my surprise?”

  Wordlessly, Noire and Teresa stepped aside.

  She hadn’t seen him for seventy-two years. He was older now, his hair had thinned and gone grey. Clearly, he wasn’t diligent with his exercises either, as he had a paunch.

  But there was no mistaking him. He still wore white.

  “T-T-Tomas? Gods above, is that you, Tomas?” gasped Annika.

  “Hello Annika. Yes, it’s me.” The old man’s eyes filled with tears.

  “Tomas!”

  She raced to him as fast as her timeworn legs would carry her. He held his arms open wide and she wrapped hers around his neck, crying and kissing, repeating his name. He wept as well, hugging her tightly. His left hand patted her back.

  His right slid the concealed knife into her belly.

  She gasped at the sudden pain. “Tomas?” she croaked. His tear-laden eyes bored into hers and she was drawn into him.

  They were back at Giza. Naming Day. She was seeing the ceremony through his eyes, feeling his excitement. After today, he would be free! Everyone understood Red was to be the new Khan. To the heirs, it was plain the only choice would be their tiny sister. One or two grumbled about the choice, but not White.

  After today, he could come and go as he pleased. Perhaps he would travel the Empire or maybe the Rim. There would always be opportunity for a telepath. While he wasn’t as powerful as Red, Blue or even Black (whom he suspected of being far more powerful than anyone knew), he still had considerable abilities he could use.

  He had studied the history of his family for centuries before he found the name he was seeking. Few would ever understand its meaning.

  His turn came. “Know then, I am today Tomas Blanco.” he cried. It was his declaration of freedom. A plain name, its meaning hidden away deep in the family history.

  He was eager to go. Red chose a pretty name, Annika. Named for her boyfriend’s grandmother, he had heard. Well, good for him! Tomas hoped he was prepared for all the attention that was going to come his way.

  He heard the whistling noise at the same time as everyone.

  “RUN!”

  The bombs were falling. Teresa and Noire bolted. Annika leaped to one side. Tomas had turned and started to run when the bomb exploded behind him. He was addled for a few moments. He heard screaming and gunfire. Annika had found a weapon and was firing at the raiders as they flew overhead. Around her, Tomas could see tattered and bloody human remnants that only moments before had been his family.

  Blaise was lying on the ground, his life draining from his missing legs. Screaming, she dropped to her dying brother.

  “Why Annika, why?” His gaze shifted to Tomas.

  Avenge us!”

  Tomas felt his brother’s spirit slip away. Annika was screaming and crying. Tomas saw his chance to escape. He struggled to his feet and limped away, joining a crowd of terrified spectators fleeing the plaza.

  Annika slumped. Tomas’s strong left arm kept her from falling completely. She tasted the coppery tang of her blood bubbling up her throat. “No, Tomas,” she said, her voice scratching. “Not this. I don’t want to see this.”

  Her secret place released the block. She saw Noire taking her to safety. She pulled away, seeking Yuri. She had to find Yuri! Tears rolled down her cheeks as she watched herself stumble and fall over the fallen remains of her butchered siblings.

  “What of you, Tomas? Please show me what happened to you.”

  His face softened. He pulled her into his mind again.

  Tomas shed his white jacket as he joined the flow of people escaping the charnel house. A young man stumbled in front of him. Before Tomas could help, the crowd surged. He stepped on the boy and stumbled along. Tomas could hear the boy screaming as he was trampled.

  A raider flashed over, chased by an Imperial fighter. The bombing and strafing stopped. Soon the roars and explosions were replaced by the groan and cries of the dead and dying. Children, separated from their parents, were crushed when they stopped to cry for their mothers. Men fought men for a foot of space in the crowd, everyone desperately trying to survive.

  When he finally reached the street, Tomas sought an aide station.

  They fixed his leg. He told them he was from Occident. They evacuated him to Seattle. In the

  confusing weeks that followed, he hid in the communities north of the old city. He survived by using his talents to cheat at gambling. He was caught once and received a beating. Certain Annika would be looking for him, as well as the gamblers he had cheated, he booked passage off Terra and headed for the Rim.


  He moved from job to job for several years, finally settling at an outpost on Mead Nine, an unaffiliated world far out on the Rim. There, he established himself as a commercial telepath. He was an honest man and his business grew even as he was careful to stay unobtrusive and invisible to Imperial interests.

  It was important to avoid Imperial entanglements. He didn’t have the correct documentation to legally work as a telepath. He obtained counterfeit papers, preferring to service a cliental that asked few questions.

  Tomas grew prosperous, married, had a family. He watched his sister, first out of fear, then out of admiration. She was certainly what the Empire needed to grow. His heart burst with pride when she executed their inferior Uncle and claimed her Throne.

  As the years passed, his fear of Annika faded. He was less careful about hiding from the Empire. Noire found him. He was terrified when he was picked up by Imperial Intelligence and carried off to their offices. When the black door opened and Noire walked in to hug his brother…Tomas forgot he could cry so much.

  Tomas was happy in his life, without the neKhan sur name, without the attention of the court.

  “I don’t understand, Tomas. Why did you spend so much time away, hiding from me…Oh, wait, your name? Oh, Tomas! Now I remember! Tomas Blanc!”

  Tomas Blanc had been the brother of Petra Khan, heir of the Eighth Khan. He had spent years hiding from his murderous father. When the Eighth died, Tomas Blanc remained hidden, fearing his sister would seek retribution as his father tried. In the end, they both died within days of each other, never having reconciled.

  “I had hoped to hide from you for the rest of my life. I am ashamed of my reactions of that terrible day. I saw what you were doing for the Empire. I am so proud, Sister. And so ashamed. And as this was happening to you…”

  “What was happening, Brother? Show me.”

  Then Yuri died.

  Tomas caught his sister as her legs failed her completely. “Yuri, Yuri…” she wept.

  “I’m sorry I had to show you that. But you need to understand. I must show it all to you. It’s important you understand why.”