“Brother. You’ll need to speak with Papa,” she said swinging a switch at a goose who decided to make a break for freedom. The long stick rose once the offender was back in the group and pointed to a barn, “He’s in our barn.”
“Thank you young lady,” I said.
“Asthore’ Elder,” she replied, “It’s my duty to assist fellow members of the Clan.”
“Well said, Miss,” I answered as I began the long walk to the burn.
The taxi driver waved a hand asking if I wanted him to drive me. I waved him off and enjoyed the stroll beneath the overhanging branches. Despite the distance, the walk was pleasant and ended too soon.
“Elder. How can I help you?” the youthful famer asked coming from the dark interior of the barn.
I was getting old. He was the proper age to be father to a little girl but he looked so young.
“Asthore’ Brother. I’m seeking the village Druid,” I said knowing the Druid might be off at other compounds.
“You’re not from Planet Tres?” he said wiping his calloused hands with a rag.
“No Sir. Off a ship, arrived this morning,” I said watching his original smile slip to a dull, flat face which revealed nothing of his state of mind.
I twisted my lapel and flashed the Knight Protector of the Clan pin. He might not know the full meaning of the symbol but he understood it made me an ally.
“You’ll not find a local Druid here or anywhere in the valley,” he said, “Not since the government passed the law.”
“What law?” I asked noticing his expression had shifted from plain to anger.
“A year ago, the Planet government passed a new law,” he said wiping his hands harder with every word, “Druid’s were elevated to national treasures. They were, one by one, pulled from farms and moved to an Abby near the University. Now, our only access to a Druid is by appointment. Unless you see one in court or take a class where one is teaching.”
Druids pulled from the Clan? The entire history of my Clan was a joint support system between the Clan and our Druid brothers. They taught the young, aided the farmers with knowledge of growing methods and were our spiritual link to the home Planet. In return, Druids drew their candidates from the Clan, were fed, supported and protected from abuse by the Clan. No civilian law could separate the Clan from the Druids without the authority of the Druid Elders on Planet Tres.
I didn’t relay my conversation with the arrogant Druid Elder on the BattleShip. It would serve no purpose to burden the farmer and his family with my opinion. We said goodbye, and I walked as if in a haze back to the taxi.
“The Hall of Heroes,” I said climbing into the taxi.
“Ah, and now you’re a history buff?” the driver asked.
“Something like that,” I replied while palming the USB Data Storage device.
It had somehow come out of my shoulder bag on my trudge back to the cab.
Parisa Arya said I’d need an old computer to read the information on the device. A museum to be precise and the Hall of Heroes on Planet Tres was one of the premier historical institutions in the Galactic Council Realm. The latter information courtesy of my driver as he turned around and headed us back through the shade trees.
I paid and dismissed him at the gate. It was a classic iron fence topping a short stone wall. The gate to the Great Schism Museum was even more ornately designed than the fence. I noticed the iron scrolled gate and fence were the only art elements at the museum. Everything inside was either old and preserved or utilitarian in nature. This was solemn ground and the buildings reflected that feeling.
Founded shortly after the Great Schism, the museum filled three buildings and the ruins of the palace. The first building was dedicated to the Planets Dos and Tres and the fighting on those worlds. The Great Schism was a scourge across the land and millions died. Eventually, the Empress and her followers fled back to Planet Tres.
The second building was the biggest and held the popular Hall of Heroes. In the final days of the war, forces of the newly formed Galactic Council Realm suffered enormous losses at the hands of the Empress’ body guards. I strolled through the rooms in the Hall of Heroes.
It was emotionally moving to watch the video files of the deadly attacks on the Palace, the daring resupply flights and the bloody hospital with its dusty operating room and the endless flow of wounded Marines. In all the displays, I didn’t see any old computers or more information about the Empress or her guards beyond those titles.
On the way out of the Hall of Heroes, I overheard a teacher conducting a school field trip.
“Watch the videos and realize that while the military died,” the teacher said, “It was the people who suffered. Go ahead and relish the gore and horror but remember all the troops on both sides had mothers, fathers, brothers and sisters, who also suffered. Remember, fighting is bad for everyone.”
I’d always believed the Hall of Heroes was designed to honor the troops of the Galactic Council Realm. In every historical file I’ve ever seen, the museum was dedicated to those who fought against tyranny. It didn’t sound as if the educator was teaching the same lesson.
My visit took me through the ruins of the palace. It was more of a walled compound. Maybe civilians missed them, but I saw base mounts for heavy guns and rocket launchers. Thick abutments and sealed tunnel entrances told the story of a fortified citadel rather than a palace. I could understand the difficulty in capturing it. I eventually left the ruins and reached the third building.
‘Mercy of the Galactic Council Realm’, was in etched in the metal plate above the entrance. It was as basic a structure as the rest of the Museum’s buildings.
The last building of the museum was dedicated to the aftermath of the Great Schism. With the Empress in custody, her followers flocked to Planet Tres to pay homage to the imprisoned woman. So many in fact, the Galactic Council couldn’t decide what to do with them.
A sentence of death, they feared, would restart the hostilities. Druid judges from the three planets met a conclave of Elders was commenced. A plan evolved. The Galactic Council would draw resources from all parts of the Realm to build three transports. Anyone wishing to journey with the Empress would be free to board and go with her.
In three years, the transports were ready and the remaining guards and her followers were put on board. Then, astronomers plotted a route to a likely galaxy far away.
They launched the ships and the Great Schism ended. But a cult of personality was hard to destroy. So, an Inquisition was initiated to flush out followers of the Empress. Many were jailed and all citizens were questioned humanely. The humane treatment of suspected fanatics was a recurring theme in the displays. Finally, all citizens were required to take a pledge of fidelity to the Galactic Council Realm. The Inquisition ended and the Galactic Council Realm thrived and expanded in peace. I walked away from the last room frustrated at not finding an old style computer.
I approached a door market Authorized Personnel Only and opened it. An old man jerked his head up from a magnifying glass.
“You’re not allowed in here,” he said setting down the magnifier on a long table, “Not allowed.”
“I have a few questions,” I said trying to sound as innocent as possible, “There’s no one around, out here”.
“That’s because the museum is automated and complete,” he stated, “everything you’re authorized to know is in the self-directing displays. Now, leave.”
Above the man’s head on a shelf and covered with a layer of dust were three old metal boxes. One of them had an image of a royal headdress sitting on a diamond encrusted gown.
“Alright, I’m going,” I said admitting defeat.
The man went back to his inspection of an artifact before I closed the door.
I wandered back through the ruins wondering again how this could be called a palace. Out of the ruins of the palace, into the Hall of Heroes, l exited the building dedicated to the fighting on the planets. It was late in the afternoon when
I passed through the ornate gate.
I was hungry, so I located a restaurant a few blocks from the museum.
It offered patio dining with a view of the museum. I ordered and enjoyed a meal reminiscent of the fresh food on Nafaka. Lingering over a second glass of local wine, I watched the sunset. No artificial lighting required, it was a glorious natural sunset. As the sun disappeared behind some low hills, the curators of the museum left the grounds. The last curator out, the man with the magnifying glass, stopped to lock the gate. I continued to sip my wine for another half hour.
Stars through an atmosphere are magnificent. They twinkle, exhibiting life and vibrancy. In space, they sit like unordered lighting fixtures. I finished the wine and paid the bill still basking in the majesty of the night sky.
I enjoyed the show as I strolled along the outside of the museum’s fence. In a dark section, I slipped on my Knight’s trousers and doublet. The fence here sat atop a slightly higher stone base. Up and over in a single move and I was behind the ‘Mercy of the Galactic Council Realm’ building.
For all the imagery of the façade, the rear of the building was cheaply build. A shoulder easily pooped open the rear door. I looked but didn’t see an alarm system. As I said, cheap construction. Ducking through the displays, I arrived at the Authorized Personnel Only door. It was locked. I pushed and decided it was a dead bolt. Better security and I didn’t want to wreck it. But a foot isn’t a surgical instrument. The dead bolt held for the first kick, on the second, it ripped apart the frame. The door sung open.
Carefully, I lifted the metal box from the shelf. It was relatively heavy compared to today’s computers. A cord hung from the back with three prongs of metal jutting from the end. After a close examination, I located a slot that matched the USB Storage Device. I plugged it in and nothing happened. No holographic read out and none of the screens on the wall lit up.
Power, it must need power, I decided. I searched and found a recharge tray. The metal box barely fit on the recharging device so I held it in place. Five minutes later, nothing changed. I pulled my hood back and the room was black.
I found the light switch and with the overhead illumination, I saw my problem. The cord was a plugin device. It took a minute to find a converter. It was old, but I placed it on the recharge tray and plugged in the computer.
An old model screen on the back wall came to life. A brush with my finger changed the screen to a library. Leaning over the bench below the screen, I scrolled until I found a device titled USB. The screen blinked and opened a file, then four tabs appeared below it.
File: ‘Sacred Language of the Empress’
Military Application, Top Secret
Tab: Empress to Realm
Tab: Empress to Digital
Tab: Realm to Empress
Tab: Symbols to Empress
The language on the file heading was in Realm so the Galactic Council had this before the end of the Great Schism. Why wasn’t it accessible when I searched the net?
I touched the last tab and the screen filled with strange symbols. Pulling my hood down, expanded my comprehension. I began to sort through the ones on Ignaz’s list. A lot repeated and once I was sure of my ability to link symbols with Empress, I moved to the picture book. Some of the symbols were badly written but after four hours, I had the symbols paired with words.
My head ached and my back was sore from bending over the bench to see the screen. Ignoring the discomfort, I opened the first tab, Empress to Realm.
Each word translated to several words in Realm. I began sorting out common words figuring I could fill those in with logic. I focused on unusual or words sounding like proper nouns or verbs. It was when I reached the final row of words the commotion started.
Out in the display area people were attempting to sneak across the floor. Heal and toe, breath shallow and cloth whispering against cloth. They weren’t very stealthily for a Knight Protector of the Clan. I walked over and switched off the overhead light. Then, I pulled the Storage Device, unplugged the computer and placed it back on the shelf. There was nothing I could do about the dust.
Five policemen in tactical gear complete with night vision goggles, shuffled across the display area. I waited until they passed me before heading for the front door. Why climb a wall when there’s a door open?
The police presence was more than I figured on for a simple breaking and entering. Outside, three police cars and a tactical van sat facing the steps leading to the entrance. Other officers, spread out to fill in the spaces between the vehicles, were easily seen in the flashing lights.
I dropped off the side of the steps and jogged towards the ruins of the palace. It was dark there and, as far as I could tell, not being guarded by armed policemen. The broken remains of a wall seemed better than the paved path. Less chance of running into an officer, so I leaped it.
The ruins lay in darkness. Silent with no shadows, the Knight’s gear made it easy passage for me. My cowl separated out solid objects and I started on a path leading between the ancient gun mounts.
I envisioned the palace as a fully functioning fort and the strategic planning necessary to capture it. And, the bravery displayed and the bodies’ sacrificed. According to the Hall of Heroes’ videos, thousands had died, both defenders and assaulters in just the final week. Why had the Empress held out when the cause was obviously lost?
Stepping out into the center of the palace, the broken concrete suddenly disappeared. Where I could see the ground, it was now buried below a layer of energy waves. My Knight’s doublet struggled to identify the frequency. It finally reported it as a field of Extra Low Frequency waves. Energy so far down the scale it was almost background noise. Yet these weren’t background rather they were an ocean of energy. The location of its source or the reason for the dense field, I couldn’t decipher. To the naked eye, it wouldn’t exist. To me, it was as if I were wading through a layer of aqua blue clouds.
I waked casually through the ornate gate, down the street and finally, I ducked behind the restaurant where I’d dined. My Knight gear got stashed and I straightened my clothing. Now to find a taxi.
In my hotel room, I slipped on the doublet, pulled down the cowl, and linked my PID to the hotel’s monitor. I concentrated and the symbols became Empress’ language which I translated to Realm. The cowl held the memory of the list I’d seen in Ignaz’s apartment. Slowly, I transcribed the words attempting to use the logical word when there was a choice.
It translated to a pledge:
By oath, we serve at her pleasure
For we are immortal by her hand
When blood be spilled for her
The honor be with our band
Untouchable, Unwavering, Unbendable
We cannot be bought by Gold
We cannot be turned by Word
We cannot be swayed by Deed
Untouchable, Unwavering, Unbendable
For we are the sword, the lightening, the strong shield of her faith
We are the Royal Empress’ Constabulary
I studied the oath seeking to see if it held meaning for me. Oaths are used by many organizations to breed cohesiveness and loyalty. The pledge Ignaz had hidden could be historical or, more likely, it was a recent invention.
Recalling Councilor Khalida Jalal, I knew she could easily finance the escalating Piracy. For all I knew, the Captain and the strange smelling Yacht could have been hired and paid for by her. Was she behind the Congress for Galactic Wrongs Righted group and by extension, the torpedoed armed Clipper ship? If so, to what end?
I stripped off the Knight’s doublet and lay down on the bed. It was still early in the morning and I’d had a long night. I dozed off.
Chapter 40
My PID bonged and bonged again. It was a personal message, I almost rolled over and went back to sleep. Instead, I snatched the PID off the night stand and, with one sleep encrusted eye, read the message.
‘J-Pop, party time, come out and play, we owe you a drink, Stone A
ngel,’ it read along with the name and location of a club.
So the Strikers were out celebrating and they wanted me to join them. The internal debate didn’t last long. I used the body cleaning facility, dressed and left the hotel.
The taxi dropped me at the address. It was on a low level of the city in a neglected section of town and far from the usual tourist haunts. Also, far from the Navy and the ever present Shore Patrol, whose job it was to control Marines and Sailors on leave. Drifting notes from a live band filled the air. I descended the steps to the basement level entrance and the music grew in intensity. This must be the right place.
I pushed through the door and walked into a wall of music. Glancing around the full dance floor, I began to locate the Strikers.
Warlock was leaning over, talking to a good looking young man. He seemed to be enjoying the attention but I detected a little hesitation as the well-built woman rested a hand on his shoulder. I hoped for his sake, he didn’t disappoint her.
Fire Dove, the stoic one, was holding court at the end of a polished mahogany bar. I missed the joke, but the six people standing around him didn’t. They laughed throwing their heads back at the narrative.
Heavy Rain was on the dance floor. Somewhere in the folds of his huge arms was a tiny woman. He spun her. I caught a glimpse of sheer delight on her face, before she rushed back from the spin, safely rewrapped in the big man’s embrace.
Thunder Eagle was sitting at a table. It was five people beyond its limit. They’d crowded so many chairs around it, they looked like a debate circle. She slammed a fist into her palm, winced from the arm injury, and ran out a long string of sentences. Half the people nodded and the other half began to scream for attention.
I found Stone Angel sitting alone at a corner table. In front of him, he had two empty glasses and a full one, looking forgotten. His attention was on his PID. Whatever he was doing, it put a wide grin on his face.
“Mind if I sit down?” I asked pulling out a chair and sitting.
Galactic Council Realm 2: On Duty Page 33