The Throne of Crowns (The FirstLord Chronicles Book 1)

by Fox, Simon

  “We need to talk privately.”

  They boarded an electric computer-driven buggy and set off through SciCom HQ’s sprawling high-tech maze. On all sides grey-uniformed personnel stopped in their tracks and bowed deeply as the WarMaker and their Overseer passed by. Finally they arrived at Lisstra’s private office – a sparsely furnished impersonal box of a room with giant computer screens for walls.

  Lisstra dismissed the two assistants who had been at work there, shut the door and sat down at his desk. Lanndra seated himself opposite Lisstra, took a small black cube out of his pocket and placed it on the desk. A tiny red light set into its top surface began to flash once per second.

  “This will jam any eavesdropping devices,” explained Lanndra. “I don’t want this conversation to be overheard.”

  Lisstra arched an eyebrow quizzically. “WarMaker, I assure you, this office is totally secure!” he protested. “Whatever is said here, stays here.”

  “One can never be too careful,” replied Lanndra.

  “Very well,” said Lisstra, shrugging. “So, WarMaker, what is it you wish to discuss with me that requires such stringent security precautions?”

  “I’ll come straight to the point, Lisstra. I’m here to tell you that, very soon, the Xunnland will be at war!”

  Lisstra seldom showed any emotion, but this momentous news caused him to gasp with shock. But he swiftly recovered his composure. “Do you mean civil war, or war against the Far South?” he enquired.

  “Both, if all goes according to plan,” replied Lanndra. “I want you to be ready for it. More specifically, I want you to give priority to all research that’s directly related to combat technologies. What are you currently developing that could be used in war in the very near future?”

  Lisstra sat back in his seat and pondered. Lanndra reflected, not for the first time, that there was something disturbingly machine-like about the SciCom Overseer. One could almost see the words, “SCAN MODE: PLEASE WAIT” written across his face, like a message on a computer screen.

  “As you know,” said Lisstra, “for several years we’ve been doing research into the creation of genetically engineered soldiers – but that programme is unlikely to produce any usable results any time soon. One of our other programmes has produced a fully robotic battle vehicle – but we’re having some problems with its artificial intelligence. However, there’s a third technology we’ve been working on that may be ready for use on the battlefield very soon.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Implant-controlled soldiers.”

  Lanndra was intrigued. “Please explain.”

  “Over the last six years we’ve been developing brain implants for military purposes. They’re based on Yevv technology, but whereas Yevvs merely enable their users to manipulate information, our new implants enable an exterior user to manipulate the brain of the individual in whom the implant has been inserted. In short, they can transform any suitable subject into a remote-controlled soldier.”

  “Fascinating! Can you show me this technology in action?”

  “I could take you to the laboratory in question right now, if you wish. Of course, I’d be able to give you a more impressive demonstration if you were to come back tomorrow.”

  “Just let me see what you’ve got – now,” insisted Lanndra.

  “Very well, WarMaker. Please follow me.”

  Leaving the office, they reboarded the buggy in the adjacent corridor and headed deeper into the bright-white SciCom maze. Finally they stopped outside a door labelled “LAB 821”. “This is your destination,” said the metallic voice of the buggy’s artificial intelligence.

  The two men got out of the vehicle and the laboratory’s automatic door slid open with a gentle swish. The Overseer ushered Lanndra inside.

  “If you would wait here for a few moments, WarMaker,” said Lisstra, “I’ll arrange a demonstration for you.” He went to an adjoining room.

  Lanndra seated himself on a work-station stool. After about five minutes Lisstra reappeared, followed by three young scientists, one of whom was holding what looked like a remote-control device.

  “Bring them in,” Lisstra told the man with the device. The scientist pressed some keys. A moment later four Xunnish men wearing white overalls entered the room through a side door. Tough-looking individuals, they had fixed glazed expressions on their faces.

  “These men are all convicted murderers,” explained Lisstra. “They agreed to participate in this project rather than face execution for their crimes. They all have the military implants in their brains and will obey whatever orders I give them.”

  “Show me what they can do,” demanded Lanndra.

  Lisstra took the control device and keyed in some commands. “I’ve programmed them to engage in non-lethal unarmed combat.”

  They watched as the four men fought each other savagely – punching, kicking, biting, wrestling – all in silence, apart from grunts of exertion and cries of pain, since they had not been programmed to speak. Lisstra and his scientists looked on with professional detachment, but Lanndra found the spectacle highly entertaining and laughed heartily at the men’s violent antics.

  When one of them collapsed, hitting his head on the floor with a loud thump, Lisstra pressed a key on the device that stopped the fight instantly. The remaining three men just stood limply where they were – panting, bleeding and missing some teeth.

  “Of course, it’s still a work in progress, but do you see the enormous potential of this technology?” Lisstra asked the WarMaker.

  “I certainly do!” answered Lanndra with enthusiasm. “And the beauty of it is, soldiers like this would always obey orders!”

  “Quite so,” agreed Lisstra. “And morale wouldn’t be an issue for them, since the implants would override all emotions, including fear.”

  The two men returned to Lisstra’s office and the WarMaker once again activated his black cube.

  “I want you to give top priority to that implant project,” said Lanndra. “I’ll tell Overseer Hennat of the SlaveCom to supply you with as many slaves as you need for experimental purposes. You can have thousands of them, if necessary.”

  “The FirstLord won’t like that!” objected Lisstra.

  “He won’t know anything about it,” Lanndra assured him. “Also, I want you to get those robotic battle vehicles ready for combat as quickly as possible. We’ll soon need them.”

  “I’ll do my best, WarMaker.”

  “Well, I’ll leave you now to get on with things,” said Lanndra, heading for the door.

  “I’ll escort you to the entrance lobby,” offered Lisstra.

  After Lanndra had left SciCom HQ, Lisstra strolled back to his office, thrilled by the prospect of a major war. History clearly showed that war was always a powerful catalyst for technological progress. Therefore it was a certainty that his Command would receive a huge increase in funding and prestige.

  For the first time in years, a smile erupted on his beardless face.

  16

  58th day of Spring, 902 XE

  Varrd

  Seen from high altitude through a skyship’s window, Varrd was a beautiful country – a lush picturesque land of neat little fields, meandering rivers and gently undulating hills. But Jaddra knew that the reality on the ground was far from idyllic. Varrd’s towns and villages were acutely overcrowded and their inhabitants were often underfed.

  Thanks to his recent Decree, the Varrdans were now free from SlaveCom rule, and he had also set up an agricultural aid programme to help them increase the yield of their land. He sincerely hoped that, with time, their quality of life would improve.

  He had come to Varrd today to fulfil his long-standing desire to make contact with the Fayshonns, the Varrdish spiritual leaders. Only a handful of Xunnish Followers had ever met them, since they lived secretive lives, hiding from the hostile eyes of the SlaveCom. Perhaps now, under Jaddra’s benign rule, they could be persuaded to adopt a more public role. He especially
wanted to meet Lazall Yentheen, the most highly respected of all the Fayshonns.

  Jaddra knew they would be unwilling to meet him at Shimell, the Territorial capital. They would see this as an unacceptable security risk. So, studying a map of Varrd on his Yevv-screen, he randomly selected a small town called Gwinell and told his pilot to take him there.

  The skyship landed in the town’s market-place. Jaddra ordered Hannsto Vallmar and his Bodyguard squad to stay on board the ship, since the sight of Xunnish soldiers would frighten the local people. Predictably, Hannsto wasn’t happy about Jaddra going into the town without an escort.

  “Don’t worry, my friend,” said Jaddra with a confident smile. “These people are all Followers!”

  “I’ll pray that they remember that, my Lord,” replied Hannsto, reluctantly opening the main hatch.

  Standing on the short flight of steel steps that had extended from the lip of the hatch, Jaddra assessed the scene before him. The market-place was utterly deserted and littered with fruit and vegetables that the people had dropped in their rush to escape from the Xunnish intruders. He wandered past rows of abandoned stalls, pondering how to overcome the Varrdans’ deeply rooted fear and hostility.

  He made his way cautiously down a side-street. There was no one in sight – the people had locked themselves inside their little mud-brick houses. But he knew they were watching him through the cracks in the wooden doors and window-shutters.

  As he reached a crossroads and stood wondering which way to go, a tough-looking young Varrdan emerged from the shadows and stood squarely in his path.

  “What do you want?” he demanded, his voice bristling with animosity and suspicion.

  “I wish to speak with the town’s elders,” Jaddra replied in the man’s own language.

  Several other young men now appeared on the scene and surrounded Jaddra, their manner unfriendly.

  “I have a personal request to make, which I hope they’ll agree to,” explained Jaddra.

  This astonished the Varrdans. They were accustomed to Xunns making demands – not requests.

  “Very well,” said the first man, bemused. “I’ll speak to the elders for you. What’s your name?”

  The Varrdish people had never been allowed access to Yevv technology, so they had never seen an image of Jaddra’s face. As far as they knew, this visitor to their town was just an ordinary Xunn.

  He hesitated, knowing that the disclosure of his identity would shock them.

  “I’m Jaddra Vallmar.”

  Since Xunnish names were something of a mystery to them, it took the Varrdans a moment to recall that this was the name of the new FirstLord. They all gasped with amazement and then bowed respectfully to Jaddra. After all, he was the man who had freed them from the tyranny of the SlaveCom. And besides, he was a fellow Follower.

  “Sir – er – my Lord,” stammered the first Varrdan, “I’ll – er – I’ll go and find the elders at once!”

  He ran off, while the other men politely ushered Jaddra into an inn and gave him some freshly baked bread and a mug of beer. He felt awkward, sitting alone at a table while a crowd gathered outside, excitedly talking about him.

  After ten minutes or so seven old men with long white moustaches entered the inn. They stared at Jaddra for a moment, not quite able to believe that this young Xunn really was the FirstLord. Then they remembered their manners and bowed to him. He rose from his seat and returned the bow.

  “My name is Choshoon Sathann,” said one of the men. “I’m the Chief Elder of Gwinell. FirstLord Jaddra, we know you’re a Follower of the Anthall, and so we welcome you gladly.”

  “You’re very kind,” answered Jaddra, knowing how hard it must be for Varrdans to welcome a Xunn in their midst.

  “So … er …” continued Sathann hesitantly, “may I ask why you have come to our sleepy little town?”

  “Because I want to meet your Fayshonns – especially Lazall Yentheen.”

  “I’ll certainly make your wish known to them,” said Sathann, looking doubtful, “but I can’t predict what their response will be. They may agree to meet you – or they may not.”

  “I understand.”

  So immediately messages were sent by carrier pigeon. Sathann said there would be no reply before the following morning, so Jaddra returned to the grounded skyship. He, Hannsto and the Bodyguards spent the remainder of that day and the night aboard the ship, staying out of the way of the townspeople.

  Early the next day Sathann came to the ship and Jaddra stepped outside to speak with him.

  “I have a letter for you from Lazall Yentheen himself!” said the Varrdan, handing over a tiny leather pouch, his tone of voice implying that Jaddra ought to feel privileged. (As a matter of fact, he did.)

  “Thank you,” he said. “I appreciate your help.”

  “Is there anything else we can do for you?”

  “Just remember me in your prayers.”

  “We’ll certainly do that!” promised Sathann, moved by this request. He had never imagined that a Xunn could value a Varrdan’s prayers. With a friendly smile he bowed and walked away.

  Jaddra reboarded the ship and examined the pouch. Presumably a pigeon had carried this little bundle all the way from the Winthess, somewhere in the Sorra Mountains. Eagerly he opened it and removed a tightly folded scrap of paper.

  This was the first time Jaddra had ever received an actual physical letter – all written communication in Xunnish society was conducted through the Yevv system. The brief missive had been composed in the Xunnish language, but the bold flowing handwriting was unmistakably Varrdish:

  To Jaddra Vallmar, FirstLord of the Xunns

  Greetings to you, Brother Jaddra.

  I regret that I cannot meet with you – now is not the right time. But the Anthall has told me that one day our paths will cross, and then we will work together as allies.

  Though we have never set eyes on each other, I feel we are already friends.

  Through all the strife that the coming years will bring, you must trust the Anthall. The world lies in the palm of his hand. Believe in his love, power and faithfulness, and never despair.

  Your Brother in the Family of the Father of All Fathers

  Lazall Yentheen

  It was disappointing that, for the time being, there would be no face-to-face meeting with Yentheen, but receiving a personal letter from the Fayshonn himself meant a great deal to Jaddra.

  His mission in Varrd accomplished (after a fashion), he ordered his pilot to take him back to Zarr. During the flight he re-read the letter. It was an encouraging message, but also a disturbing one. What did Yentheen mean by “the strife that the coming years will bring”?

  Time would tell …

  17

  70th day of Spring, 902 XE

  Xunnland Orbital Station 8

  36,000 kilometres above Isska, the shuttle from Zarr was about to dock at Orbital Station 8.

  Jaddra, Leenesh and an entourage of high-ranking dignitaries had made this extraplanetary journey to witness a truly historic event – the launching of the very first manned expedition to Haxxa, the fifth planet in the Isskan star system.

  Through the shuttle’s windows the passengers had a good view of the Station – a vast cuboid structure composed of supersilica girders, solar panels, habitat pods and connecting tubes. Docked alongside the Station was the Mettra Honnthar, the biggest spacecraft ever built, named after a legendary explorer in Xunnish mythology.

  At the Mettra’s bow was a 300-metre-wide steel-shelled habitat sphere. Between the bow and the stern ran a slender girder-lattice spine nearly two kilometres long. Branching out from this were dozens of huge rectangular solar panels. At the stern was a gigantic block-shaped propulsion assembly housing eight Zemmka-Field generators and four nuclear engines.

  The shuttle touched down smoothly inside one of the Station’s cavernous docking bays. The exterior pressure doors closed, the bay was flooded with air, and the dignitaries disembarked.

/>   Hexxna Lisstra, the SciCom Overseer, entered the bay to greet them, along with the Station’s senior staff and the personnel who would journey aboard the Mettra on its maiden voyage – its crew of 24 and the team of 62 colonists who would establish a base on Haxxa. This was the greatest moment of achievement in Lisstra’s life, and his face, normally expressionless, glowed with something resembling joy.

  “Welcome to Orbital Station 8, my Lord and my Lady,” he said, bowing deeply to Jaddra and Leenesh.

  “It’s a pleasure to be here, Overseer!” replied Jaddra with genuine enthusiasm. “It’s not every day one witnesses a landmark in history.”

  Jaddra and Leenesh made their way slowly down the long line of crewmen and colonists, shaking their hands and wishing them well on their voyage. Apart from a few older men in senior positions, all the colonists were childless young couples who would eventually have the option of raising families on Haxxa. One couple, Vonnsha and Chennet Lisstra, were old friends of Jaddra and Leenesh.

  Vonnsha had been a member of Jaddra’s gang of soul-mates at Kannza III University. After completing his scientific studies, he had joined the SciCom and had made a name for himself as a space engineer.

  “I’m very proud of you, Vonn!” said Jaddra with warmth. “Send me a vid message as often as you can, won’t you?”

  “Of course, Jadd,” answered Vonnsha with a smile. “And I’ll bring back a chunk of Haxxa for you!”

  Standing beside the tall slim Vonnsha was his beautiful petite wife. Trained in biochemistry, she was part of the team that would be scouring Haxxa for signs of indigenous life. She and Jaddra had been childhood sweethearts.

  Taking her hands in his, he kissed her on both cheeks. “Anthall be with you, Chenn,” he said. “We’ll be praying for both of you.”

  “Thank you, Jadd.”

  Her affectionate smile reminded him of innocent golden Summer days spent with her, long long ago. It seemed like another lifetime …