by Jake Bible
“Yes, sire,” General Ryan said, bowing slightly once more. “We will not disappoint you.”
“This is not about me,” Alexis said, teeth gritted. “It is about the honor of Station Aelon and its people. From the stewards to the passengers, I do this because they deserve the respect of every station in the System. A move against our holdings is a move against our very existence. That cannot be tolerated.”
“No, sire, it cannot,” General Ryan agreed. “For the glory of Aelon!”
“For the glory of Aelon!” the rest of the generals echoed.
“If you will excuse us, sire, I will now join my men below as the other generals return to their destroyers and their men,” General Ryan said. “The war begins within the hour.”
“Helios’s blessing to you all,” Alexis said and nodded towards the men as they turned crisply and left the deck.
“Uh, your highness?” DuChaer asked. “Am I to accompany the first wave or remain here by your side?”
“You, Brother DuChaer, are to remain by my side,” Alexis replied. “Then when this conflict is over, you are to remain here on the planet, banished to the lease holdings on Thraen Prime. You will not step one foot outside of the boundaries without the threat of execution. Your time with my son is over, you sick little flip. I don’t care how many whores you say you’ve fucked, I know you covet my son for his title and his body. You are an abomination to Helios and I will not stand for your presence in my court.”
DuChaer stood stock still as he looked out at the ever approaching piece of land. Despite the coastline being technically assigned to Station Aelon and an extension of its prime, DuChaer was a Thraen and he knew the land was a part of him, not the master that stood menacingly close.
Yet he replied, “Your son is not like you, sire. He is a man that loves the land underneath his feet. He likes to live with a thrill in his heart and a cheer in his throat. Your son was raised by soldiers and men that understood what it meant to face death each and every time you walked out of an airlock. Alexis is a lover of the poetry of living, whether that means digging trenches in the breen fields or catching gully fish with his hands in the swamps. You want to bind his spirit to a floating ball of metal and polybreen stuck up in the heavens, when all he wants to do is live free down here on the primes. With me.”
“My son will never set foot on this planet again, as long as I am alive,” Alexis replied. “Nor will he ever set eyes on your smug face. Those well-rehearsed words of yours mean so little to me. I bind my son to nothing, it is his heritage that binds him; binds him to his destiny of taking the crown and learning that being a master of station is not a position of freedom, but a position that grants freedom. He doesn’t have a choice in the matter, just like I had no choice.”
“There is always a choice, your highness,” DuChaer replied. “You choose to not exercise it. Do not project your cowardice onto my Alexis. He is much greater than your failures.”
Alexis’s first instinct was to pick the lout up and throw him over the railing, sending him to a messy death in the waters of Helios. But the pain in his side prevented him from even turning on the impertinent youth. To have shown weakness in front of such as DuChaer would have been too much for Alexis to bear, so he remained still and let silence be his response.
It did the job as DuChaer grew increasingly ill at ease while he waited for an outburst or some type of retaliation. For a split second it seemed as if the Thraen would have preferred to throw himself overboard than stand and wait for retribution.
“Does your father still live?” Alexis asked, finally breaking the silent treatment.
“He does, sire,” DuChaer responded.
“And does he know what you are?”
“He knows I live my life the way I want,” DuChaer replied.
“Yes, but does he approve of that way?”
“Not entirely, sire,” DuChaer said. “He has expressed concerns over the years.”
“Yet he hasn’t disowned you? Surprising.”
“He made a promise to my mother that he would always keep me in his life,” DuChaer explained. “My father has never broken a promise to my mother; not when she was alive and certainly not while she rests in peace.”
“Too bad you did not get your sense of honor from your father,” Alexis said. “You might have had a great future to look forward to. Now, all you have to look forward to is a life far removed from my court. Or any court, really, as I doubt any of the stations will look kindly on an exile.”
“When you pass, your highness, you do know that your son will recall me, right?” DuChaer asked. “He will not leave me down here to rot.”
“He will leave you,” Alexis said. “For I will make him swear an unbreakable oath to Helios and all that is holy to uphold my final wishes. Your exile will be last on my lips.” Alexis laughed and clapped his gloves together. “Plus, I have left instructions with Stolt to make sure you never set foot on Station Aelon again. If you do, you will be executed on the spot by the royal guard.”
“You really hate me so much?” DuChaer asked. “Why?”
“Because you are not a man,” Alexis said, finally risking the pain and turning his body so he could look the young man in the face. “You are a parasite that has latched onto my son and is sucking him dry of all that makes a Teirmont a Teirmont.”
“And what is it that makes a Teirmont a Teirmont?” DuChaer asked.
“Our independence,” Alexis replied. “We are beholden only to Helios, and even the Dear Parent’s grasp on us is tenuous. A leech like you puts that legacy of independence at risk. That is what I am putting a stop to.”
“And nothing I say can change your mind, sire?”
“Nothing Helios could say would change my mind,” Alexis said, his face a mixed grimace of triumph and torment. “Which is a statement my son will not be able to make as long as you are in his life. I hope you said some type of goodbye to Alexis, because your influence on him is over.”
DuChaer swallowed hard under the intense gaze of the master, bowed, then turned and fled the deck of the destroyer. In seconds claxons started to ring as the ships made their final approach towards the prime coastline. Alexis knew the young man would immediately try to contact his son and was glad he already gave orders to imprison the youth in the brig until the conflict was all over.
Alexis the First, Master of Station Aelon was done playing games and indulging the whims of those around him. He was ready for war and his soul burned to conquer and kill, even if he himself would not join in the actual battle.
* * *
The screen before Alexis showed a grainy image of the Aelon council, his son sitting at the head of the table, all eyes on Steward Stolt as the man pleaded with the master.
“The treasury is nearly bankrupt, sire,” Stolt said. “As much as I would like to teach Thraen a lesson for trying to rescind our lease holdings on their prime, I cannot condone an all out war and seizure of the entire continent! It would be grossly irresponsible of me to agree with you, my liege.”
“Some would say it would be irresponsible of you to disagree with me, Cousin,” Alexis glared, hoping the fury he felt could be conveyed across the transmission from the meeting room he sat in on Aelon Prime to the great hall of the station orbiting above. “I may be on the planet, but I am still Master of Station Aelon. You will rally the sectors, levy the taxes needed to fund this campaign, and make sure I have the resources sent to me that I need to crush Thraen Prime and show Master Charles the First of Thraen what happens when you pick a fight with a Teirmont!”
Stolt sighed, but nodded. “Yes, sire, I will see to it at once. Is there anything else I can tell the meeting of stewards? Maybe something to lessen the blow of this edict?”
“Tell them that I will be leading the charge this time,” Alexis said. “I will no longer be sitting back and watching this conflict, but actively participating so that the soldiers of Aelon know they have a master that puts station before his own life.”
“Your highness!” Stolt shouted. “That cannot be allowed! You are not a man in his youth! Whether you see combat or not, you risk your very life just by exerting yourself! Need I remind you about—”
“That is all, Cousin,” Alexis said. “My mind is made up. And you need not remind me about anything. I am well aware of who I am and what exertions I can handle.”
He clutched at the wound that seeped fluids into the heavy breen bandages wrapped about his torso. Even though he was fully dressed, Alexis could tell some of the council caught the movement. He doubted his wife would be spared the observations. Alexis knew to expect a transmission from Meredith in the very near future.
The image started to waver and fade and Alexis leaned forward.
“It appears our talk is about to be cut short as the station’s orbit moves from range,” Alexis said. “Do as I have commanded and all will be well. We are Aelish and we will bow to no one.”
“Yes, sire. We are Aelish, but...cannot...landing…”
The transmission hissed and popped then went to nothing but static as Station Aelon, thousands of miles above, moved out of orbital synch. Alexis leaned back in his chair, nearly crying out as his side protested angrily, and looked at the wide window before him. Aelon Prime stretched and stretched for miles, making him wonder if masters of old, the leaders that ruled before the planet was torn apart by the Cataclysm, only needed to gaze upon the land to find inspiration.
If so, he knew how they felt, for his whole body hummed with inspiration and drive. He understood he was living his last days, and despite his need to see his wife one last time, he did not regret the choice to spend those last days fighting for the honor of family Teirmont and Station Aelon.
* * *
“Push forward!” Alexis shouted from the front of his royal skid as rows and rows of Aelish soldiers before him engaged with the Thraenish troops. “Drive them back!”
“Sire, you must get down!” General Ryan yelled, yanking on the master’s arm. Several flechettes pinged along the railing. “Sire!”
The general forcibly pulled the master back towards the armored enclosure set up around the skid controls. The flat vehicle used the same rotational drive that allowed the stations to orbit the planet and maintain artificial gravity, but on a fraction of the scale. Hovering just above the ground, the royal skid was three times the size of an average skid, able to hold the small group of generals and advisors that watched the battle rage.
“Let go of me,” Alexis hissed despite his obvious pain. “I am Master of Station Aelon and I will rally my troops as I see fit!”
“Sire, we are taking heavy fire from their slingers,” General Ryan said. “While they do not have particle barbs, there is always the chance your suit will be pierced, even with your royal armor.”
Alexis smacked his chest, refusing to wince at the pain it caused his wound, and stared the general in the eyes, the visors of their helmets almost touching.
“I am a Teirmont and a Teirmont does not run from tiny pieces of metal, General Ryan,” Alexis said. “This armor is the best polybreen in the System. Their little slings can do nothing to me. They’d need a hundred long blades to even get to my flesh!”
The generals and advisors looked at each other, worry clouding their visored faces.
“Sire, are you feeling well?” General Ryan asked. “Your face is flushed and you are sweating.”
“We are at war, Ryan! There are sweat and tears and blood in war! Would you prefer I was safely back on Aelon Prime, sitting in my quarters with a cold tea and haunch of shaow leg? I bet you would,” Alexis glared. He cocked his head and narrowed his eyes at the men about him. “I bet you all would. Then you could take your time with this war, drag it out so that more Aelish men die while you get the glory.”
“Your highness,” General Ryan said as he reached out to take the master’s arm once again. “You aren’t making sense. We are here to do as you bid, that is all. We want this day to be a decisive win for Aelon. The fewer men we lose the greater the victory. It is not about our glory, but about the honor of Station Aelon and Aelon Prime.”
Alexis watched the man for a long, silent minute, the gears in his head grinding together as he tried to make sense of the feverish jumble that was his mind. The master sighed and clapped the General on the shoulder then turned to look out at the battlefield.
“The only way to glory is to fight,” Alexis said, holding out his hand. “My long blade, General. Now.”
“Sire?”
“My long blade,” Alexis said, his hand waiting there, empty. “I would like my long blade. Is that difficult to understand?”
“No, sire, I just wonder for what purpose you need your long blade,” General Ryan replied. “Surely you aren’t thinking of joining in the fight. If so then I would have to protest greatly.”
“I will tell you my purpose once I have been given my long blade,” Alexis said. “Place it in my hand now!”
The general looked over at one of the royal attendants, but the man only shrugged and shook his head.
“It appears your blades were not brought with us, your highness,” General Ryan said. “They must be back on Aelon Prime in your quarters.” The attendant nodded in confirmation. “I am truly sorry, sire. I take full responsibility for this oversight. No one expected you to need them.”
“No one expected me to need them?” Alexis echoed, his voice mocking and cruel. “No one expected me to need them? I’m master of this battle! Of course I will need them!”
He whirled on the men and looked about the small space.
“Where is Corbin?” Alexis asked. “Corbin! Correct this at once!”
“Corbin Breach, sire?” the attendant asked. “The former head of the royal guard?”
“No, Corbin Willymuck, that stupid clown that performs during the Last Meal celebrations each year,” Alexis spat. “Yes, I mean Corbin Breach! Where is that man? He should be by my side as he was when we fought the accursed lowdeckers. Now that was a battle!”
The master swayed and clutched his side. Attendants moved forward, but he shoved them back, his eyes filled with anger and contempt.
“You dare to grab a master?” he shouted. “You think because you dress me and watch me crap that you are equal to me? You are all nothing but siggy worms eating at a corpse! You are the droppings of trollen birds left for the wind and waves to clean from the pristine deck of my royal cutter! You are walking louts of flame that eat at my...eat at my…”
The master didn’t finish.
His eyes rolled up into his head and he collapsed onto the deck of the skid. His attendants were at his side instantly and they held him as they looked up at General Ryan for instructions.
“Take him back to Aelon Prime,” General Ryan said to the skid pilot, his face drawn and exhausted. “Get him to his quarters and into bed. Make sure the physicians know you are on the way. Hopefully he will not expire before we can get him up to the station. This is not how greatness should leave the world.”
The generals quickly got down off the skid and moved out of the way as the vehicle spun about and shot away. The men of war looked at each other then at General Ryan as they stood in the scrim grass.
“We’ll regroup on my skid,” General Ryan said. “There is nothing we can do.”
“Should we contact the station?” one of the men asked.
“Not until we know if he survives the journey across the water back to Aelon Prime,” General Ryan replied. “When we have confirmation then I will contact Steward Stolt. He can inform the council and Mistress Meredith.”
“If he dies then Minor Alexis becomes master,” a general said. “Will he continue this campaign or call it to a halt?”
“No way to know,” General Ryan said. “It depends on how he is advised.”
The old soldiers stood there, solemn with the thought of who Minor Alexis received his advice from.
* * *
The wound continually oozed green puss and b
rown liquid. Despite everything the physicians tried, they could not stop, or even slow, the infection that had raged in the master’s body for so many years.
“Am I to die today?” Alexis asked, his eyes blurred by pain and fever. “Rick? Tell me the truth. Am I to die today?”
“Rick?” a physician asked.
“His brother, the late minor,” another physician replied. “Long since dead.”
“His mind is burdened by memories,” a third physician suggested. “We could sedate him so he sleeps and is not troubled by such thoughts.”
“We cannot sedate a master,” a physician from the back snapped.
The man, Xander Vlerara, was the youngest of the physicians, but stood and held himself as if he had always been in charge. The other physicians looked at him, six in total, and waited for him to finish. Despite his young age, he had risen quickly in the medical ranks of Station Aelon and had specifically requested he be assigned to the master during the prime campaign. From a long line of physicians, he was the latest in his family to serve the crown and he took the honor as seriously as he did his own life.
Perhaps more so.
“A master must not be put under unless the regent has been informed,” Vlerara stated. “Have we been able to establish communications with the station?”
“We are still out of orbital synch,” an attendant said from the doorway. “Communications with Station Aelon will be restored in the next few minutes, though, sir. I was under orders from General Ryan to let the mistress speak to his highness first.”
“Very well,” Vlerara replied. “She can speak to him then the minor. Once the regent gives his assent then we can sedate the master. If he lives long enough for that.”
“He must have been in great agony for weeks, if not months,” the first physician stated. “Were the physicians on station not aware of this?”