The Rampant Storm

by J. Alan Field

  Sanchez let a small grin creep onto her lips. “Wait—Carr, did you just ask me?”

  “Ask you what?”

  “Did you just ask me to marry you? Argh—you!” Thinking he was kidding around with her, she raised her left hand in a fist to give him a playful punch, but before she could, his lips were pressing against hers. After a long kiss, Carr looked into her eyes and spoke from his heart.

  “I’m asking, Etta. Will you marry me? A life without you would be wasted. I don’t care what work we do or where we do it, just so we’re together. What do you say?”

  She gazed at him with a curious expression on her face. Did I just mess everything up? he asked himself. Sanchez was a self-assured woman, not the kind who thought she needed a man to make her life complete. She enjoyed her independence, and he wouldn’t want her to be any other way. Would she see marriage as an impediment to her life, or a compliment to it? Perhaps he should have waited longer…

  “Yes,” she said.

  That was all—just ‘yes.’ They embraced—not kissing, not speaking, simply holding each other for what seemed like hours. Finally, a knock came on the cabin door.

  “Come in,” shouted Carr.

  A crewmember of the Winyah opened the door and promptly began to blush, understanding he had interrupted a special moment as he saw the two Sarissans nestled together on the cot. He would never know how special.

  “Oh, sorry for intruding, folks,” the boatswain said. “Some of the off-duty crew were getting together a poker game and wanted to know if you’d like to join us, Mr. Carr—you too, if you’d like, Ms. Sanchez.”

  They both smiled at the young man, who seemed to understand that he was the odd man out in a private joke. “Not today,” said Carr pleasantly. “But keep us in mind for the next one, will you?”

  “Sure thing, Mr. Carr,” said the boatswain as he gave a little wave and quickly retreated.

  “So what would be more important than a poker game?” asked Sanchez impishly after the young man had closed the door.

  “Beats me,” said Carr, as he wrapped his arms around her.

  “I thought the honeymoon came after the wedding,” she managed to say between kisses.

  Carr backed off slightly. “We have nearly a month on this ship with not much to occupy our time. I thought we’d get a jump on things.”

  “No, you thought you’d get a jump on me,” she said laughing.

  “Hey, I’m just saying that if we want to do the honeymoon right, we should practice,” he countered with a mischievous look on his face.

  Sanchez pretended to be deep in thought, her brow furrowed, thumb and forefinger holding her chin. “Well, they do say that practice makes perfect…”

  36: Archon of the Empire

  One month later

  The Home Ministry

  Esterkeep, Sarissa

  “Why are we doing this at the Ministry of Home Affairs?” asked Colonel Flood as she and Renata Darracott waited in the anteroom adjacent to the building’s main auditorium.

  “Neutral ground,” answered Darracott as she looked in a mirror, finishing one last round of preening. She wore her favorite blue formal dress for today’s ceremony, which always looked good because it complimented her platinum hair so nicely. “Using the Home Ministry is meant to show that the civilian side of the government supports what is about to happen.”

  What was about to happen was a miracle. A woman from one of the poorest planets in human space was minutes away from becoming the empress of a vast star empire. However, like most so-called miracles, it was nothing more than an illusion, smoke and mirrors for the masses. Channa Maxon was handing her a title, not power. If there were any actual authority to be garnered from this newly crafted monarchy, she would have to fashion it on her own.

  “That’s as good as it gets,” Darracott muttered to herself as she moved away from the mirror to take a seat on one of the waiting area’s many comfortable chairs. Across the room was a huge video screen that took up nearly the entire wall. It displayed a muted picture fixed on the adjacent auditorium as people were gathering for the drama that was about to unfold. At the front of the room was Channa Maxon, smartly attired in her full dress uniform. The Fleet Admiral smiled and greeted VIPs as they arrived, Deputy Culture Minister Ume Yamazaki faithfully by her side.

  It was the day of the Investiture, the formal installation of Renata Darracott as Empress of the Sarissan Union. Strictly speaking, there could not be a coronation, because there was to be no actual crown. The Directorate had decided to keep the trappings of royalty to a minimum. They had approved the construction of a new Imperial palace, and there would be a ceremonial ring placed on her finger, but that was it. No crown, no scepter, no royal robes.

  In ancient times, coronations were pseudo-religious ceremonies, with regalia such as a crown being seen as physical proof of the blessing of God upon the monarch. As secularism came to dominate modern governments, such symbols became antiquated. It was the Directorate, not Divine Will, that would install or remove her from the throne, and they wanted everyone to understand that—especially her. In fact, thought Darracott, if the Many Gods happened to be looking down on today’s proceedings, they would more likely be having a good laugh rather than blessing anyone, least of all her.

  She looked away from the wall screen in order to focus. The Investiture could wait for a few minutes. There was a personal matter to attend to first, and as far as Darracott was concerned, it was the most important thing she would do all day. Reaching for her mobile, she flicked her fingers across it.

  “Flood, I know this is odd timing, but check your inbox. I just sent something to you that I want you to see,” said Darracott. As the colonel scrolled through her own device, her eyes grew wide.

  “The fruits of Bennett Boyer’s mysterious mission,” said Darracott. “It’s something I believe you’ve wanted, although the change in the family section was my idea. Hope you don’t mind.”

  Tears swelled in Flood’s eyes, a few of them streaming down her cheeks before she swiped them away with one hand. She checked the screen again, as if to make sure she hadn’t imagined it all. What the colonel was seeing were legal documents declaring the chief bodyguard’s official name to be Ardith Constance Flood. In addition, the section regarding family cited Flood’s nearest living relative as ‘Renata Darracott—sister.’

  “You are now my sister in both spirit and law,” declared Darracott proudly. “And you won’t ever have to worry about your past again—it’s all been cleaned up in the records. According to official state archives your name is Ardith Flood, and it always has been.”

  “I… I don’t know what to say,” stammered the usually composed colonel. “Thank you.”

  Darracott rose to give Flood an embrace—and a warning. “That is a very appropriate thing to say, but beyond that, I wouldn’t say much. Outside of you, the Professor, and me, no one else knows that you have a new big sister, and frankly, it might be wise to keep it that way. Last month when I sent Bennett off to fix this up, I didn’t realize how many new enemies we would have by now,” she said, glancing back at the wall screen.

  “So, in effect, you adopted me—as your sister?” said Flood. “Is that even legal?”

  Darracott shrugged her shoulders. “It is now,” she laughed, gesturing toward the screen. “These people are about to make me empress of a starhold that was a democracy just four years ago. Who even knows what’s legal these days—we’re making it all up as we go along.”

  They both turned their eyes to the scene in the conference room. It was a private ceremony being sent out over the Nets for the entire starhold to see. Crowds of supporters—and protesters—had gathered around huge viewscreens set up in cities across the Six Worlds.

  The power elite of Sarissan society had assembled in the auditorium. There were members of the Directorate, military brass, leading citizens of the scientific and arts communities, as well as business and industrial leaders. Karl Gideon was seated
in the front row as Channa Maxon’s personal guest. Even members of the opposition Reform Party had been invited, although most elected to stay away, including Darracott’s former friend Leonardo Sanchez. The current Reformist leader would no doubt watch the proceedings from his home on Quijano.

  The Investiture ceremony had been planned by Deputy Minister Yamazaki, who followed Maxon around like a shadow as the Fleet Admiral socialized before the ceremony. Maxon’s girlfriend was tall and slender with luxuriant jet-black hair reaching halfway down her back. Channa’s always liked Asian women, but in this case, there’s more to it than that, thought Darracott as she watched the striking woman on the screen. The Fleet Admiral had not only gained a lover in Yamazaki, but also a powerful tool.

  Over the past year, the Ministry of Culture had devolved from its original purpose into the propaganda arm of the government, and everyone knew that Yamazaki actually ran the show over there. The Deputy Minister had proven herself a valuable political ally to Maxon. Unfortunately, that meant she was probably just another new enemy for Darracott. Some believed that had Darracott turned down the throne, Maxon would have given it to Yamazaki.

  “Computer, turn off the wall screen,” said Darracott, the screen turning white to match the other walls of the anteroom. “Ardith, do you mind if I have a moment alone?”

  “Of course not, ma’am.” Before Darracott sat down however, the colonel moved to her and gave her a hug. “Thank you, for everything,” she whispered into Darracott’s ear. “I’ll be right outside if you need me, and remember that you’re never truly alone.”

  Despite Flood’s kind words, Darracott was alone, perhaps more so than ever. Politicians were flock animals, and she was about to be placed in a cage at the zoo. It would be a life of meaningless speeches and empty ceremony with people more concerned about the fashions she wore than the programs she advocated. Her greatest fear was that this travesty could chase away the one person she cherished above all others—Karl.

  Her brief moment of solitude was interrupted as the anteroom door opened, and Channa Maxon walked in. Darracott sat perfectly still as the Fleet Admiral strolled to the center of the room. The lithe, auburn haired woman halted in front of her sovereign-to-be, assuming a parade rest position, arms behind her back.

  “Such a big day—I’m so excited for you, Rennie,” said Maxon cheerfully. “Everything is ready.”

  Maxon was in high spirits. Overnight, word had reached the capital that a deal had been struck with Commonwealth military leaders in Zuquoi, the second largest continent on Gerrha. Central Command was certain that it was the first domino to fall in the surrender of the entire planet. Nevertheless, the Fleet Admiral’s buoyant mood irritated an already troubled Darracott. She raised her head as her eyes scornfully surveyed Maxon. Fading under Darracott’s gaze, the admiral broke out of her military stance, letting her arms drop to her side.

  “We don’t have much time, so go ahead—get it off your chest,” Maxon said.

  “Exactly what is this all about, Channa? What is your goal? What are you hoping to accomplish by this farce?”

  An unamused half-smile formed on Maxon’s lips. “Pax Sarissa.”

  “What does that mean?” asked Darracott. “I don’t understand.”

  “You asked about my goal. My aim is for our people to hold interstellar hegemony, to establish peace and prosperity for humankind—on our terms. Pax Sarissa, a Sarissan enforced peace over the entire Renaissance Sector, directed from right here in Esterkeep.”

  “You want us to conquer every human world? That’s… impossible.” Darracott was about to say ‘insane,’ but rephrased at the last moment.

  “You’re absolutely right, it would be impossible. No one starhold can conquer all of humanity, but the Sarissan Empire can become the dominant political and cultural power of the Renaissance Sector, an entity so strong that no one would dare oppose us. We will become a star-nation so mighty that all of humanity will stand with us, either out of respect or out of fear. THAT is what you and I are going to build—together.”

  “And just when did you decide on this course of action?”

  “Two years ago.”

  Darracott blinked. “Two… years?”

  “In the days following Victor Polanco’s assassination,” explained Maxon. “As I lay in the hospital after Brin tried to kill me, I came to the conclusion that Choi had the right idea, she just didn’t have the right plan. So, I decided to be patient and take the long route—but I needed a partner.”

  “Me,” said Darracott, her upper lip curling with disdain.

  “You.” Maxon crossed her arms and began to pace in front of Darracott as she spoke. “I needed someone the people would fawn over while I did what needed to be done. While you were buying the people’s loyalty with your social programs and snappy speeches, I was building up our military and putting the right people in the right places.”

  “You used me.”

  “Oh, please!” cried Maxon in a raised voice as she stopped pacing and turned to face Darracott. “I don’t want to hear your cries of indignation. After Victor was assassinated, you desperately wanted the Consulship. You wanted it so badly you could taste it—and I gave it to you. We used each other, and you know it.”

  The Fleet Admiral stepped forward and knelt on one knee before her. She reached forward, taking Darracott’s hand.

  “Rennie, listen to me. Polanco and Choi wanted to rule a starhold, but I have a bigger vision. The Commonwealth needed to fall, and they foolishly gave us an excuse to move against them. The Jangsu will be next. Once we’ve knocked them down to size, Sarissa will be the supreme political and military power in human space. When that happens, humanity will have no choice but to unite behind the Empire—behind our leadership.”

  “You mean behind your leadership.”

  “OUR leadership. We don’t have to conquer all of humanity to bring it together—we just have to conquer enough of it.” Maxon squeezed her hand harder, the admiral’s eyes intense and pleading.

  “It’s you and me, Rennie—it’s always been you and me. We are still allies, just as we’ve been for the last two years. The only difference now, my dear friend, is that you finally understand the true nature of our partnership.”

  Darracott withdrew her hand from Maxon’s. “I’d rather walk away than dance on the end of someone else’s strings, even if they are being pulled by a ‘dear friend.’”

  Maxon gave a little laugh. “If you were going to walk, you’d already be gone. We’re both in too deep, and besides, you love this—you love all of it! I know that for a fact, because I love it too. The power, the adulation, the intrigue. Like it or not, you and I are two of a kind, Rennie—we were both born to lead.”

  Maxon rose from her knee, but not all the way, bending down to hold Renata Darracott’s face between her hands.

  “You just keep charming the masses while I bring the other starholds to heel, and we will see this through together.” Maxon leaned forward and gave Darracott a light kiss on the forehead. “I told you when I returned, I would bring you an empire.”

  Darracott grimaced as Maxon stood up straight. “I didn’t want an empire, just peace for our people.”

  “By the time we are done, you’ll have both. The Directorate is appointing me as your First Consul. Don’t worry, Rennie—it will all turn out right. I will govern, and you will reign. We are still a formidable team. Now, everyone is waiting for you in the auditorium. Shall we join them, Your Majesty?”

  As Darracott stood, Channa Maxon extended her right arm, elbow bent. She hesitated for a long moment, and then took Maxon’s arm as the pair walked toward the door.

  * * * *

  The auditorium was packed with people, but it was a far cry from that day not too long ago in Stavenstad Square on Odessa when thousands had surrounded her with genuine love and respect. Scanning the scene before her, Darracott found a few expressions of genuine well-wishes, but most people in the crowd wore the smiling masks of cynicis
m and political expediency.

  As the audience stood for her arrival, Fleet Admiral Maxon led her to a solitary chair that had been placed on a raised platform at the center of the stage. The new throne looked more like an office chair than a bejeweled heirloom. It shouldn’t have surprised her, since the concept of modern royalty was more closely modeled after multiworld CEOs than costumed characters from history. Flanking her on stage were impressive looking honor guards representing the three branches of the military: the Space Force, Army, and Marines. The guards added to the spectacle, but for the people watching on the Nets, their presence in the background of every camera shot was a subtle reminder of who ruled in Esterkeep.

  Taking their place on either side and just behind her was Bennett Boyer and Ardith Flood. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Colonel Flood to her left, resplendent in her full dress Army grays. Flood was standing without expression, looking straight ahead. On her right, Bennett Boyer stood slumping, his sadness palpable.

  Channa Maxon positioned herself in front of the audience, arms raised to beg for quiet. A microphone carried her voice throughout the hall.

  “Members of the Directorate, honored guests. We meet today for a historic occasion. Earlier this month, the Directorate voted to rename our great starhold the Sarissan Empire.” Applause broke out among the crowd, momentarily halting the beaming Fleet Admiral. “Our new Empire now needs an empress—someone to guide and inspire us as we march forward.” The marionettes bobbed their heads up and down in agreement, as Maxon turned to face Darracott.

  “Renata Darracott, as Empress, you would advise the government and assume the title of head of state. This position is not hereditary. As with the Consulship, the Empress serves at the pleasure of the Directorate, and when it is necessary to select a successor—hopefully after a long and glorious reign—the Directorate will appoint a candidate of their choosing.”