Beyond the ornate lobby was a flat open expanse and, in the distance, the Space Port. I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.
“I don’t see a festival,” I replied.
The manager glanced at his PID, personal information device, and smiled.
“The trees should be arriving soon, as well, the caterers’ tents,” he listed the elements while pointing to his PID, “I expect punctuality from my staff.”
Sure enough, a crane followed by a flatbed truck appeared on the hotel drive. The vehicles turned off the drive and drove to the center of the open expanse.
“Right on time,” the manager beamed, “as a guest of the hotel, you are of course, invited to attend the festival.”
“Is it a Planet Tres event?” I asked as the crane setup.
“Oh, no Sir. I was informed it’s titled ‘The Festival of the Boughs’, he replied, “A custom from the Ambassador’s home world.”
“Back to the unknown Ambassador,” I asked, “What planet? I don’t recall the Realm settling any new planets.”
“I apologize for my lack of knowledge,” he replied, “but I wasn’t given any details beyond the order for the reception and the festival.”
As we talked, the crane lifted a small weeping willow tree from the flatbed. A member of the crew had placed a stand, and as I watched, they guided the trunk into it. The Salix Babylonica stood solid and erect. The crane swung back towards the flatbed. A Conifer was attached, lifted and set into a different stand.
The trees were about 3 meters tall and full with heavy branches. One’s branches drooping almost to the ground creating a tent like effect around the trunk. The other’s branches jutting to the sides, fully at the bottom and shortening, until the top of the Pine tree was almost pointed. They were beautiful specimens of their genus.
“Are you building a forest for the Ambassador?” I inquired.
“Again, you point out my failure. For one who takes pride in being well informed, I am not,” he admitted, “There is a festival organizer due at noon. Perhaps, she can answer your questions.”
I glanced over his shoulder and the three bartenders were holding eyedroppers. Carefully they let six drops of the royal elixir fall into the glasses of water. The blonde watched them closely.
Before I could reply, a medical vehicle, the type civilian authorities use for disasters, pulled off the drive and drove passed the trees. It turned around and a team of medical professionals began setting up treatment tents.
“A field hospital?” I asked as the medical personnel arraigned the equipment, “Are you expecting an earthquake?”
“Heaven forbid,” the manager replied, “The medical unit is one of the festival’s requirements. Perhaps the festival organizer can better answer your questions.”
“I don’t believe I need to speak with the organizer,” I said, “Thank you for your time.”
“My pleasure,” the manager replied as I walked away.
The words I’d translated from an insurgent’s prayer book came back to me.
“As the ruler, I am always aware of the mood of my subjects. The world was healing but some still denied my rule. For those who took up arms, my answer was the Royal Constabulary. Others chose idols and these hurt me the most. One group, who’d traveled on the ships, began worshiping Druid trees. I have sympathy for ritual so provided my subjects with a worldwide cult. Henceforth, all subjects upon reaching the age of majority must participate in the annual destruction of a large tree. It’s festive, with lights and food and medical care as the destruction must be done with hand tools.
I am your Empress.”
‘Festival of the Boughs,’ I thought, ‘could it be the Empress’ cult? If so, why was the event being organized here on a Galactic Council Realm planet?’
I was half way across the lobby when another vehicle parked on the festival grounds. Crates of hatchets, axes, knives and sickles were unloaded.
On my PID, I typed a message to the Striker team leader, ‘Warlock. Need to speak with you and the team. Give me a time and location.’
‘Team scattered. Give me a few hours to assemble,’ the Strike Kill team leader sent back, ‘Will advise.’
‘Understood,’ I typed.
A small stage with speakers was being put together on the festival grounds. I had to admit the manager didn’t lie. His teams were on time and efficient.
An audio engineer was performing a sound check as I walked out of the hotel entrance. The music was good until it was interrupted by the sound technician.
“Marsupial, marsupial,” the disengaged voice said. Each time he said marsupial the sound levels adjusted.
I waved for a cab. As I climbed in, I heard one last, “Marsupial.”
“To the Druid Facility,” I said to the cab driver.
“Of course,” he replied as the taxi pulled away from the curb.
Although I was leaving the preparations for the Festival of the Boughs behind, the uncomfortable feeling in my gut traveled with me.
The cab was half way down the hotel drive when my PID pinged.
‘Lieutenant Piran, Councilor Jalal requests the pleasure of your presence at the Gala honoring the Galactic Realm Military,’ the message read, ‘please note the dress is Formal.’
The message was from Admiral Rigmor. I couldn’t imagine Councilor Jalal caring if I was in attendance or not. The invitation was the protocol officer’s way of reminding me of his superior rank and my place as a lowly Lieutenant in the Galactic Council Navy.
‘Message received, loud and clear,’ I thought as I acknowledged the message, ‘especially about the formal dress.’
The Druid Elder sat up and graced me with a smile.
“I, as well, have an invitation to the Councilor’s Gala,” Nolwenn said proudly, “My position rates a seat on the stage next to Governor Hilal Jalal.”
“I would expect nothing less,” I said in reply to his self-important boast.
No Druid Elder, I knew, would be so delighted about his social standing. Nolwenn’s attitude was making me nervous. I continued my report.
To the taxi driver, I said, “I need a clothing shop and a bank.”
He glanced back stating, “Teodolinda is the finest on Tres and the Bank of the Realm is just down the street. Both are level two establishments.”
There were five levels in the mega city of Tres, the primary city, on the planet by the same name. One, where I’d exited the hotel, was the only level with direct sunlight. It was the location of the Space Port and the upper floors of apartment buildings, office complexes and expensive hotels. Only high ranking and wealthy individuals enjoyed the vista of level one. Level two was for upscale businesses and entrances to office buildings.
Levels three to five saw the quality of life dropping in degrees. Old, dark and damp, according to the reports I’d read, level five was not desirable. Except for a few historical sights, level five sat on the original dirt of Plant Tres. Its inhabitants were either unemployed, underemployed, or employed in less than savory jobs.
“Level two establishments will be fine,” I said settling back in the rear of the cab.
“The invitation and need for a formal Dress White uniform delayed my plan to see you, Elder. The bank was a spur of the moment idea. If the Ambassador and the ‘Festival of the Boughs’ were indications of more treason by Councilor Jalal, I wanted to be prepared.”
“You’ve mentioned treason by Councilor Jalal several times,” Nolwenn stated, “I am uncomfortable with the accusation. Your words themselves could be taken as treasonous.”
“I realize that Elder,” I admitted, “But, I hope you’ll see the situation before circumstances prove me right.”
“Continue with your story,” he said waving a hand in a dismissive manner.
The cab took a down ramp, flattened out on an avenue, made a few turns and pulled up in front of a shop.
‘Teodolinda, Fine Clothing and Tailoring for the Discerning Citizen’, proclaimed the sign.
I paid the driver and stepped to the sidewalk. The shop’s entrance was dimly lit which deepened the color of the lime wood façade. It proclaimed class and premium pricing. Both were fine with me. A couple of years ago, the Merchant Fleet had errored and, due to their attempt at saving a few Pesetas, I’d collected a large salvage fee. Money was no problem. Getting a first class uniform for the Gala was more important.
“Good morning, Sir,” a man with a pair of laser glasses balanced on the crown of his head said in greeting, “How can Teodolinda help you?”
His words were warm and welcoming but his studied appraisal of my appeal wasn’t. I was dressed in a loose shirt, casual slacks and a pair of comfortable shoes. None of the items spoke of quality or substance.
“Navy dress white uniform,” I ordered, “I need it for a formal occasion and I need it in four days.”
“We’re quite busy,” he said in an apologetic manner, “perhaps I could direct you to a men’s shop on level three.”
“Let’s clear something up,” I said tilting my head so I looked down my nose at the tailor, “I am a Navigator in the Merchant Fleet and a Lieutenant in the Galactic Council Navy and I am rich. Now, if you don’t want my business, I’ll gladly leave. I’m sure my critique of your shop will be a big success on the Fleet net. My fellow Navigators are always on the lookout for accommodating establishments.”
The part about my being a Navigator in the Merchant Fleet was true. I held the certificate but didn’t use the Fleet net. In fact, I had little contact with the Merchant Fleet. The proprietor of Teodolinda didn’t know. His eyes glazed over as he imagined a Navigator, one of the Fleet’s cerebral opinion leaders, destroying his business’ reputation.
“Let me check my orders,” he said suddenly, “I believe we can fit you in.”
“I also need dress white covers for this,” I said handing him my Knight Protector of the Clan strap with the pouch and an attachment resembling a hand muffler, “and six small tote bags. I’ll take those to go. You can deliver the uniform and strap covers to my hotel.”
“Certainly, Sir,” he said ushering me towards a fitting cell, “Let’s get you measured. Please scan your PID so we can construct the proper medals for your uniform.”
He slid the laser glasses down and began measuring my body. As he finished a section, a picture of my uniform emerged on a monitor. It was embarrassing when the torso was done and the computer began drawing on the chest. The winged-rocket pin identified me as a pilot. The ribbon from my service in the 49th Air Wing appeared, along with my Lieutenant’s bars. After those three items, the machine stopped. All of my other medals and awards were from my years as a Sergeant of Marines. I couldn’t display any of them. They were in a sealed file along with my records.
The tailor handed me six tote bags as I left Teodolinda. Around the corner from the shop, I entered a branch of the Bank of the Realm. Fifteen minutes later, I was back on the street about to hail a cab. My PID pinged.
‘Team assembly in two hours,’ the message was from Warlock, the Striker team leader, ‘Lunch is on you. Level five, Dilshad’s.’
A taxi pulled over. I slid in and said, “To the Druid Facility.”
“Ah, the Temple,” he said as the cab moved into traffic, “Once they get the tree installed, it’ll be a huge tourist attraction”.
There was a lot wrong with his statement. Druid facilities weren’t temples. They were compounds, facilities, Abbeys, Monasteries or homesteads. If they housed a Heart Plant, it was in a sealed Druid inner sanctum separated from Folks by a ceremonial gate and a vault door. The driver had mentioned it was a temple and the public would be able to view a Heart Plant. His assertion was so contrary to reality, it baffled me.
“I really needed to speak with the you,” I said to the Elder, “At the time I was worried about displaying a Heart Plant to the public.”
“As I’ve explained, you could have simply called for an appointment,” Nolwenn said.
“I would have except for the Police and the Ambassador’s Troops guarding the Compound,” I replied.
As I rode, I typed a reply to the Striker team leader.
‘Start without me. Yes. I’m buying. I have one stop before the meeting,’ I sent.
The Druid Facility was on level one. My cab climbed through the decking and we emerged in the bright morning sunlight. A short time later, the cab entered a roundabout circling a stadium. The driver half turned and pointed to the dome rising above street level.
“That’s where the Councilor is holding the Gala,” he said, “The entrance is on level three. It’s the biggest arena in the Realm.”
“You know about the Gala?” I asked.
“Certainly, everyone’s talking about it,” the driver stated.
I studied the observable part of the stadium as were drove around it. There were no windows, only solid etched walls below the dome. The cap itself was bronze and reflected the sunlight. Here and there, a few black outlines in the bronze denoted maintenance hatches. Other than those, nothing marred the shining surface.
“Impressive. Speaking about the Gala, what do you know about the Ambassador?” I asked figuring cab drivers Realm wide were good for gossip.
“Don’t know anything about the Ambassador,” he admitted but added, “Her guards are miserly and rude. No tips, no thank you, no pleasantries of any kind. Real cheap, if you know what I mean?”
There was a new item. The mysterious Ambassador had a big enough staff to register with cab drivers.
“There can’t be that many of them?” I asked, “Big guys?”
“Yes, large people but the guys take orders from the women,” he said, “Not sure how many but they’re all over the city. A friend of mine picked up five of them. Every time the female passenger spoke, the four guys shut up, and listened as if their lives depended on it. Tough bunch. If you know what I mean?”
“I believe, I do,” I said as the cab finished the long journey around the stadium and took an avenue heading away from it.
We turned onto a broad driveway and after a few minutes of driving, the Druid ‘Temple’ appeared. Open gardens with trees and trimmed bushes boarded the road. I recognized the Druid touch in the shapes of the hedges and the well-tended lawns between the taller vegetation. The facility was constructed of cut stone blocks with a slate roof.
A center structure rose higher than the matching wings. Complete with parapets, the middle building resembled a castle. The buildings on either side looked like stately manor houses. Together, it was an impressive Druid Facility.
The cab screeched to a halt when two policemen stepped into the drive. One extended his hand and waved for the driver to pull over to the side of the road. He followed us to the curb and took up a position in front of the cab. His compatriot strolled to my window.
“Name and purpose of your visit?” he demanded.
I wasn’t about to tell him I was a Knight Protector of the Clan or that Druids were sworn to render me aid when asked. Or that in return, I was sworn to kill anyone who hurt a Druid or a member of my Clan.
“Lieutenant Piran,” I replied and lied, “University business.”
“I don’t see you on the visitor’s list,” the officer stated after checking his PID.
I’d been to a lot of Druid Facilities in my life. In none of them, had I been stopped by civilian security and questioned. Druids are well prepared to defend their ground, so I hesitated.
“Turn this vehicle around and leave,” the officer instructed, “Don’t come back unless you have an appointment.”
My driver did as he was ordered.
“Is that normal? The needing an appointment before getting into the Druid Facility,” I asked.
“No. It’s news to me. But a lot of things have changed since the Tres Government passed the new law,” the driver said as he backed up, swung the wheel, and rocked the cab until we were heading towards the main road, “Ever since they named Druids as a national treasure, I’ve heard they’v
e placed police around the Temple.”
“Why do you call it a Temple?” I asked.
“It’s a temple for the Druids by law,” he said while reaching around to point out the back window, “See the work crews on the left wing?”
I glanced around. Before I could locate what the driver was pointing out, I noticed the two policemen talking to two other people. These people had long Prods cradled in their arms. I know the weapons and the type of people who used them. I really did need a talk with the Druid Elder but it would have to wait for later.
My eyes finally settled on where the driver had indicated. On the side of the left wing of the Druid Compound, a crane was lifting a meter square glass block.
“What are they building?” I asked.
“That’ll be the observatory,” my driver replied, “Once they ship in the Druid Tree, the public can buy a ticket and view the plant. Sounds boring to me, but a lot of folks are excited. Seeing a living relic of the plant discovered on Planet Dos, I imagine, would be a novelty. And good for business.”
A number of thoughts raced through my mind. A Heart Plant on display for the public was a bad idea. Not only was it an invasion of Druid privacy but a glass window wasn’t enough protection for the valuable plant. Why would Druids bring a Heart Plant to a planet with an atmosphere? The rich air from a Heart Plant was necessary on a Station or a Ship, but there was no need for one on a planet. And, I was disturbed by the police presence. Druids are the advisers and teachers for my Clan. While their main responsibilities included the care and protection of Heart Plants and the raising of Space Cats, they were linked to my Clan. To cut off the Druids from their source of candidates and their supporters was wrong.
Chapter 3
“Where to now?” my driver asked pulling me back from my quandaries.
We had reached the end of the driveway and the cab faced the main road.
“Do you know Dilshad’s Restaurant, level five?” I asked.
“Certainly, Sir,” he replied, “but there’s a sur charge for trips to level five.”
Galactic Council Realm 3: On Guard Page 2