The Starlight Fortress

by Fiona Rawsontile

  Geneva exhaled slowly and stepped back. Maybe she could’ve done a better job, and could’ve supervised her officers to do so. Maybe those TV commentators were right—the government created heroes to boost the morality but didn’t really care who the true hero was. Hadn’t her father told her several times? There is one, and only one, universal rule for being a good boss. You can be smart or dull, hardworking or laid-back, but you have to be fair.

  “I understand how you feel, Admiral Tait.” She softened her voice. “And I apologize for the negligence in my work. On the other hand, I’d like to remind you that many talented people eventually consumed their talents by focusing too much on social injustice. We live in a world that barely sustains itself and is far from ideal; sometimes it acts like a giant machine that smashes anything unwilling to conform to its eccentricity. But there are always people who successfully break the rules, who free themselves from a seemingly written destiny. The secret is—they don’t fight the machine; they live beyond it.”

  As she spoke, she thought of Harold. It must have been frustrating when he was alienated at their Academy, but later he moved on.

  “And to me, this war is not just about fighting our enemy. It’s also about knowing ourselves, our strengths and weaknesses. Knowing when to work on the ugly side of our life, and when to appreciate it.”

  There was no emotion on his face. She wasn’t sure how much he had taken in. “I hope you could reconsider your decision, Admiral Tait. If you turn back now, I can promise that today never existed.”

  “It’s too late,” he said. “I’ve told Pompey I’ll bring you to him. Besides, there’s no way for me to work under your boyfriend. He’d eventually be my boss, wouldn’t he?”

  “So you’d rather work for the enemy who killed your buddies?”

  A sarcastic smile occurred on this face. “Why not? Just so in the future I wouldn’t feel bad when I lose my soldiers.”

  “How about Admiral Oakley? Have you thought about what your betrayal would mean to him?”

  Rafael’s breath was shortened. Geneva could feel his muscles tensing up, and for a moment she thought he was going to hit her. Then his anger ebbed. “Take her downstairs.” He turned away and no longer looked at her.

  A man came over and led her to a hatch on the floor. Before she entered the narrow stairway she said to Rafael, “There’s one thing you might want to know, Admiral Tait. I once asked the opinion of my hero boyfriend on your commission. He spoke highly of you.”

  * * *

  When Geneva was brought to the bridge on the following day, the ship had just gone through the Trawtle and gradually came to a stop. Through the window she saw rows of warships standing by, ready to blow them into ashes if the ship made any unauthorized movement. The men around her unconsciously lowered their voice when they spoke. Now the queen wasn’t the only one in captivity. This was the enemy’s territory, and nobody was completely sure what would happen next.

  Rafael and his men stood unarmed behind her when a squad of Thypholian soldiers came in with rifles and bayonets. Two of them escorted Geneva to a pinnace, which then transported her to a nearby space station. Upon entering the station, she was led into a dark passage where a beam of scattered light scanned her from head to toe.

  “Three incomers,” she heard a male’s voice somewhere in front of her. “Queen Geneva of Sunphere. Age, twenty-seven … The two fetuses you are carrying have names?” The man raised his voice, expecting an answer.

  “No,” she answered mechanically. The name Kyle sounded in her head.

  After her eyesight adapted to the darkness, she saw an officer standing beside a machine and writing something on an electronic notepad.

  “Personal belongings, a bracelet and a watch,” murmured the officer as he continued writing. “No body implant detected …”

  She felt as if she were standing there naked.

  “Cleared.” The officer waved his hand. The two soldiers walked up from behind and took her further inside.

  * * *

  The trip afterwards was really rough due to her pregnancy sickness. She didn’t know how long it had been before she finally arrived at a military spaceport on Planet RB-4—maybe only a day, since she ate three meals and threw up three times. Stepping onto the ground she immediately felt the strong gravity of this enormous planet. She could hardly breathe after she was led to a car parked a few hundred yards away, but the soldiers around her seemed to be okay. Maybe she would get used to it with time … and exercise.

  The car took her to the emperor’s palace, which, in contrast to Thyphol’s prosperous realm nowadays, was surprisingly worn and shabby. Geneva knew that before the Colonial War was initiated sixteen years ago by Picasso V, Pompey’s father, Thyphol was only a small kingdom, a free trading place for their belligerent neighbors. Surely now they’d have enough money to build a better palace, but they didn’t. Looking at the cyan spires protruding into the winter sky, Geneva felt she could understand the old emperor’s intention. He wanted his posterity to remember their origin, to remember how hard they had fought for the things they owned today. When a nation dies, it dies from inside. That was what she said in her last public speech. She sighed, speeding up toward the building. A well-behaved enemy was hard to deal with.

  The guards escorted her to a living room and stayed outside. It was an old-fashioned room with narrow windows and tall Mahogany furniture, not much warmer than the outside. So she sat down beside the fireplace. What was her bottom line? She tried to be prepared for the upcoming negotiation. There would be a negotiation, wouldn’t it? What did he want the most? He should know the fortress was owned by several countries and her allies may not want to give it up in exchange for her …

  She shook her head and looked around. Now that the heat had warmed her up, she was feeling thirsty. She left her chair and walked to a table. As she poured herself a large glass of lemonade, a voice came from behind.

  “I heard you had a rough trip?”

  She turned around and saw a man in a white sweater ambling into the room. Her first reaction was that he must resemble his mother more than his father, just as what people had said. He had a tall figure and broad shoulders, but the long gray eyes and thin lips would have fitted better on a pretty woman. Overall, his presence created no pressure on other people, like what one found with the librarian sitting behind a stack of books, or the bar server who didn’t talk much unless being asked a specific question. When he sat down in a chair and gestured her to take the nearby couch, his bearing carried a type of laziness that made it hard for her to associate him with the ruler of the Renaisun-B system, the ultimate commander of Thyphol’s six Central Fleets and nine Imperial Fleets, Emperor Pompey.

  “So, we finally met! At first my soldiers caught you when they attacked Ribbon Islands, and thanks to your vigilance, they were all captured. Then in the recent battle I thought I’d catch you within minutes. See, my father told me many times not to underestimate women in battles, but I had to learn it the hard way!”

  Geneva didn’t know what to say, so she kept drinking her lemonade.

  “I only wish I could meet your boyfriend too. I like the little trick he played at the end of the recent battle. I’m just curious. Was this all planned ahead?”

  “No.” She put down her glass. “But it wasn’t pure luck either. Opportunities only visit prepared minds. We won because we have all those great people. I don’t know what they’ll do next time when you attack us, but I can assure you they won’t let you prevail.”

  “Oh I’m scared!” He laughed softly. “At least there will be two less great enemies I have to deal with.”

  Dismayed by the mentioning of Rafael, Geneva also wondered whom the other one he was referring to. Had he decided not to send her back?

  Something beeped in his pocket, and he fetched out a pager. “This morning your William tried to contact me,” he said as he checked the message on the pager. Then he looked up at the clock on the wall, thought for a mome
nt, and put the pager back. “I guess they want a meeting, but I turned them down. I don’t think I have anything to say.”

  The heat from the fireplace receded, and Geneva felt cold again. “What are you going to do with me?”

  He considered her and hesitated. “I’m not sure. Normally I send my captives to Crest Island.”

  Crest Island … She had heard about that place. It wasn’t hell but was certainly not baby-friendly.

  “Ur … In fact, it’s not up to me. Why don’t you just stay here for a while?”

  Here? She looked around. “What do you want me to do here? A maid?” That would be fine, as long as she got to keep her babies.

  He smiled dismissively. “I have enough maids, and that would be a waste of your talents.”

  He couldn’t be thinking of a wife, could he? She picked up her glass and resumed drinking.

  “Would you be interested in being my stepmother?”

  She almost sprayed out the lemonade. “You can’t be—” she choked “—serious!”

  “I’m sorry, I should’ve backed up a little. My father has been following your recent deeds, and he said you are a fun woman. You know he’s been quite lonely since he divorced and lost his eyes.”

  Geneva tried to recall what she knew about Picasso V. He was married in his early twenties and soon had a boy, Picasso VI. Several years later he had Pompey, who wasn’t supposed to be the heir at birth. Both Picassos were warlike people and loved to go to battlefronts. During the battle between Thyphol and its last colony, the old emperor lost his eyes, a leg, and his elder son. The next year, he abdicated the throne to Pompey, who then started the war on the RA.

  “I’ve introduced him to several girlfriends, but he got bored with them quickly. I guess he needs someone he could talk to, someone who can understand his past and share his opinions. I do have women officers who are still single, but they are all my mother’s age.”

  What’s wrong with that? She said in her head. You are looking for a mother.

  “So is this his idea or yours?”

  “He’s away during the winter, as usual, but I’ll mention it if he calls back. I have to warn you, though. He’s not easily pleased.”

  So she would have to please him? “What if it turns out he doesn’t like me?”

  “Then you’re left with the other option.”

  Geneva decided not to dwell on this issue for now.

  “Well, until he’s back, enjoy your stay here as a guest.” The pager beeped again and Pompey stood up. “I need to leave now … Oh, I heard you’re pregnant?”

  She nodded stiffly. Was he going to get rid of her babies?

  “Then you should see an obstetrician. I’m having a busy schedule lately, but I’ll try to put you in before the end of next month.”

  Relieved, she failed to notice that his last sentence did not make sense.

  * * *

  Since then, the captive queen was settled in her enemy’s house. Everyday the maids came to her room to deliver meals and do some basic cleaning; otherwise nobody seemed to pay attention to her business. She could wander around anywhere inside the palace, except the east tower where Pompey’s office was located and guarded, but she could still watch it from a distance. He went out almost everyday, but the time was unpredictable: it could be morning, afternoon, or even late night. It was difficult to tell whether he went to work—the same way as she did—or simply had some fun outside. One thing she knew for sure was that he also worked at home, because his officers frequently came to visit him.

  One day when she was wandering in the garden, she saw a grocery truck parked outside the entrance to the kitchen with its engine on. She quickly went inside the house and snitched a set of clothes from a maid’s room. Dressed as a maid, she walked behind the truck as it slowly pulled over to a side gate. Some gardeners passed by without looking at her. The guards might have seen her, but none showed any response. She kept walking behind the truck, hope growing stronger with every minute passing by. Right after she set a foot outside the gate, one of the guards ran up to her and saluted. “Your Majesty, you are not supposed to continue beyond this point.”

  “I uh … I wasn’t …” She smiled embarrassedly and walked back to the house.

  * * *

  A few weeks later, a car took Geneva to a health-care facility consisting of several tall buildings. As she walked in, she saw most of the patients wearing military uniforms. The woman assistant who accompanied her here helped her check in on the twelfth floor. Then a nurse led her to a room and took her vitals.

  She sat alone in the room and waited. Normally she had her own doctors come in to see her. She had a little experience of clinical visits when she went to college, but certainly unrelated to pregnancy. After a while she left her chair and started looking at the anatomical posters on the wall. Since she was pregnant she hadn’t had time to study those things yet. There was also a medical certificate beside the posters. Out of curiosity, she read the certificate.

  Thypholian Board of Obstetrics and Gynecology

  Pompey Herrick Longdavin, M.D.

  She felt her jaw falling to the floor.

  The door opened after some courteous knocks. Pompey walked in wearing a white coat, a thin folder in his hands.

  “All right, you know what?” She walked past him and stopped at the door. “If you enjoy playing pretend, I suggest you find a pregnant pig and take a look at her. There might be a dozen babies inside!”

  “What are you talking about?” He sounded seriously offended. “I’m a certified doctor, and this is my clinic.”

  She was speechless for a while. So he indeed was an obstetrician? “This is where you come to work, everyday?”

  “Pretty much, and right now I have several patients waiting outside. If you leave, they’d be happy to fill your spot.”

  She looked at him, and then peeked outside the door. If she walked away, was he going to find her another doctor? She doubted it.

  Seeing her sitting down at the exam table, his expression softened. “Okay, I’m excited to meet my little brothers … or sisters. Lie down please.”

  She followed the instruction and soon felt a probe resting on her belly. This couldn’t be real! She looked straight up. A Renaisun-Quadruple System Mobile was turning and twisting under the ceiling. It reminded her of the computerized model in the conference room where her defense council meetings were held.

  “Two brothers!” he announced with excitement. “Both are quite large for their age. I’m afraid you might need a C-section … Heartbeats, normal. Now let’s take a measure of their head sizes … Have you been taking the vitamins I gave to you?”

  She didn’t answer. Two boys. She thought of Sterling.

  “Did you watch the news yesterday? Jonathan was elected as head of your Alliance,” he said with sympathy. “It should’ve been you, shouldn’t it?”

  She didn’t want to continue on that subject. “So you went to a medical school?”

  “Of course. I wasn’t born as the heir.”

  “But why would you choose such a career, Pompey? How could you watch the parents being killed in battles after you have delivered their babies?”

  “That’s the ultimate fun—playing God.” He took the probe away and gestured her to sit up. “Bring in lives, only to take them away.”

  For the first time since he came in, she gazed into his eyes. Was he telling the truth? He did not look like someone who enjoyed killing.

  * * *

  Geneva’s belly was getting prominent in the following months. And so were her cheeks, which earned her a nickname from the maids—the “Cotton Ball”. Now that she had given up her hope of going home, she just wanted to have two healthy babies and take good care of them. She didn’t see Pompey frequently, but on the weekends, if he didn’t go out or invite his girlfriend home, he would have dinner with her.

  “I thought you were only supposed to eat for three.” He was never tired of making fun of her. “You are lucky. Not
everyone could afford a captive like this.”

  A few days before Picasso came home, Pompey asked her to meet in his office. This was the first time she entered the east tower, which had a fairly modern interior compared with the rest of the palace. She thought he would want to talk about things related to his father, but after she sat across the desk from him, he turned on a doubled-sided screen on his desk. “Have you heard about the Platinum Valley?”

  “Not until a week ago.” She had been following the news on TV and knew there was an insurgency in one of the Thypholian colonies located on the other side of the planet. “It’s still going on?” she mocked as she studied the map.

  “We could’ve easily wiped them off if we didn’t care about those precious mines.” Several yellow marks flashed along the valley as he spoke. “Air raids are not preferable. They’ve also set up trip wires to prevent entries from above. So we have no option but to break in from either end of the valley. The north entrance is too narrow; it makes our men easy targets. The south is wide enough. However …”

  The screen zoomed in at the territory outside the south entrance, showing a unique type of barren ground. A black forest of weathered and layered rocks in various forms took over the place, with deep holes in the ground between the rocks. One of the rocks was circled by hand.

  “See that one? It’s actually a manmade flyer. Those rebels have managed to build those flyers that merge easily into the surrounding. They can sneak out from any of those holes, which are all connected underground, and attack us from behind. Once they stop moving and firing, it’s impossible to tell them from the background. We lost many soldiers before they even reached the valley.”

  “Interesting.” Geneva gloated. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “I was wondering if you could help me solve the problem.”