by Philip Hamm
“But they didn’t take you to Sagan, did they?”
“No, they brought us here. James wasn’t involved but Voralia knew he wanted me to be closer to him. You could almost say it was another kidnapping. And they brought the books from the Cissoid’s library too; if the Rickobites were hoping to find them in the wreckage, they must have been very disappointed.”
Crotal said, “And the scholarship girls are working for Panadawn now – they live with me in the Winter Palace.”
Faam smiled, “Yes – remember, most of them had been unhappy about living among the Sagan and after Kalmia and Vade returned to Kajawah, they volunteered to work for James – just like his Sagan comitatus.”
“They’ve been very kind,” he said. “But I wish they would help me with my buttons.”
Fratris asked, “What happened to Cissoid?”
“Most of it was salvaged later but it was too damaged to put together again.”
“Doesn’t Kalmia want to build a new one?”
“Everything the Cissoid stood for is here in the University of Panadawn - except our students come to us rather than us going to them and men have as much access as women. But the principle of a universal education, of learning about every race and creed, and spreading understanding through knowledge, is at the heart of what we do here just as it was on the Cissoid. Wherever our traders and transport ships in the Panadawn fleet go, they spread the word. We reach more corners of Evigone than the Cissoid ever did and we’re not exclusive – you don’t have to be rich to come here or be lucky enough to win a scholarship. All potential students have to do is apply and take the entrance examination.”
Fengtai looked uncomfortable, “It’s a good job I didn’t have to.”
Faam smiled, “I think we would have accepted you without the Shogun’s help. You might not have qualified for the science or engineering courses, but you have plenty of valuable knowledge and experience in other areas. You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. You never know, you might end up teaching here one day.”
Fengtai burst out laughing, “That’s very funny.”
“I mean it - education isn’t about being ‘gifted’, it’s about motivation and working hard. If you found a subject you were truly interested in, wouldn’t you do all you could to find out more? Wouldn’t you then become the expert in that field? And wouldn’t you want to share that knowledge with others?”
Fengtai nodded, “You could be right, Professor – except I’m interested in everything and nothing in particular.”
“Uncle Frim wants me to be as interested in history as he is,” said Fratris. “He could find a laundry list fascinating if it was written a hundred years ago. But apart from your stories, I struggle to find anything in the rest. I haven’t even read his short history of the Hundred Year War. I know he’s disappointed.”
“You should give it go,” Faam smiled. “It’s got lots of pictures and maps.”
“I don’t know what my family might have wanted me to study,” said Crotal. “I expect it wouldn’t have mattered very much – you don’t need qualifications to be a sultan, just the ability to keep your head. But I like music – perhaps I should study that.”
“Perhaps you should,” she agreed. “It’s always better to go with what you love.”
“What about you, Professor?” Fengtai said. “What made you interested in history?”
“I didn’t know what I would be good at when I joined the Cissoid,” she admitted. “It was only when I found myself reading books that were not on the syllabus and needing to discover more that I realised, to my surprise, that I’d found my path in life.”
Fratris asked, “Is that when you decided to become a lecturer?”
“I enjoyed telling the stories to others and I did begin to wonder if teaching was my vocation. But it was Kalmia who pushed me into becoming a lecturer; she saw my potential even I didn’t. With her encouragement, she made me a tutor and gradually I gained enough confidence to start giving lectures. Left to myself, I think I would have preferred to be just an academic, studying for the sake of it, and writing books about what I found, like your Uncle Frim.”
“You could be doing that now,” said Fengtai, “Instead of teaching us.”
“I could,” she agreed. “But then I’d be missing out on your company.”
“If you hadn’t come here,” said Fratris, “What would you be doing?”
“If the Cissoid had survived, I would have been content to travel around the Third Sphere, telling students about its history. Without the Cissoid, I might have started my own school on Sagan. But I’ve never been ambitious for myself; I just want people to know about the past.”
Crotal said, “Will you tell us what happened to Nacyon when the Quill fleet reached Sagan?”
“Yes,” she said. “We’re near the end of his story now, when the Quill Empire fell…”
22 - The fall of the Quill
Nacyon stood with Captain Tringa on the observation deck of the Apus and watched through the telescope as the ships moved into position. It filled him with a sense of appalling dread but as the Quill fleet lined up in an arc across the western perimeter of Sagan system, it was still a magnificent sight. In the centre, three miles away, was the QRN Aquila with the Royal men aboard. Next to them, the warships alternated between the grand eagle-class, the falcons and the hawks; all with their sails out and men standing ready on the decks.
But what were they getting ready for? The Sagan had no fleet of their own and there was nothing above the surface for them to attack. Like the IZN before them, they would be forced to mount a costly blockade when (rather than ‘if’) the Sagan Council refused the Queen’s demand. How long would they manage that? Every ship had hundreds of mouths to feed. Every world in their empire needed these ships to defend them. What was the point of all this?
He heard radio Crake calling his name and went below to the bridge deck. “Prince Rhatany says they’re ready,” she announced.
Nacyon took the microphone and asked for confirmation.
“Just get on with it,” Rhatany replied impatiently, “Read out the message...”
Nacyon took the paper out of his pocket and asked Radio to call the Sagan Council. It took some time for them to respond. Then he heard their leader, Illysia, asking him what he wanted.
His mind in a daze, he barely noticed the words until he was finished. He wanted to add an apology at the end. He wanted to tell them it wasn’t his idea and he was sorry for the invasion. Instead, he gave the Council a day to make up their minds, just as he’d been ordered to do.
Then everyone heard Rimmon’s voice speaking. Among other things, he said to the Sagan, “The Princes of Apollyon are willing to forgive your people for the part they played in their downfall if you’re willing to serve them again in your old capacity – as protectors of the harmony they wish to create...”
Nacyon bowed his head and knew it was another lie. Behind him, he heard Clocks say, “That man has no more interest in the idea of ‘harmony’ than a vulture does in becoming a vegetarian.”
There was a pause as Illysia asked what that meant. It was obvious, even over the radio, that she was sceptical.
Rimmon continued, “The tsars wish to end the conflicts between species and reunite the Third Sphere under their benign guidance. Since the end of the last war, you can see how humans have behaved towards each other; their leaders are dishonest and their people are unhappy. Many worlds have already joined us to defeat the empires and bring them down.”
Tringa said to the bridge crew, “Prepare to bring us about.”
Nacyon snapped out of his torpor, “What are you doing?”
“We’re a merchant ship not a warship – we’re getting out of here.”
“…The Queen of Quill and the parliament of Xramarsis have recognised our way is best and joined our mission. Saron will accept our offer soon and Xramaria will follow. You can be an equal part of the rejuvenation of the Third Sphere. This is the future �
� not the Royal Court of the Tun Empire or the Zamut Senate.”
“No,” Illysia replied tersely. “It’s not. There was no justice in the way the Zarktek behaved before and you’re deluded if you think they’ve changed. We will not join you.”
Driver began to turn the Apus around. Nacyon said, “But we have to wait until the Sagan Council has given its answer…”
“Aren’t you listening, Nacyon?” Tringa hissed at him. “They’re not going to accept. We’re wasting our time here…”
“There’s message coming from one of our scouts,” said Radio, “It’s on a different channel…”
“Let’s hear it,” said the captain.
Radio flicked a switch and they heard the scout saying, “There’s a Tun cruiser and a destroyer – moving around from the far side of the planet…”
“That does it,” said Wayfinder. “If the Tun Empire is defending Sagan, we don’t stand a chance.”
“Absolutely,” Tringa agreed. “Plot us a course back through the asteroids. Driver, get us under way – fast as you can.”
“Aye, Captain,” they both said, sounding relieved.
Nacyon, bewildered and confused, said, “What’s the fleet doing?”
“They’re going in for the attack,” said Chick Dunlin, watching by the port-side window through a pair of binoculars. “I can see them moving forwards…”
“Didn’t they hear the scout’s warning?”
He asked Radio to call the Aquila. An officer so far down the pecking order he was practically a rating, replied, “Their Highnesses are aware of the situation…”
“I want to speak to Rhatany.”
“Prince Rhatany is unavailable at this…”
There was a flash of light and the line went dead. Nacyon said, “Did he just switch me off?”
“Dear Pater,” said Chick.
And then a second burst illuminated the bridge briefly.
“What was that?” said Driver as the instruments on his console suddenly went crazy.
“The Tun ships have opened fire,” said Wayfinder, joining Chick by the window.
“What’s happened to the Aquila?” Nacyon demanded.
“It’s gone,” said Chick, sounding shocked to his core.
Nacyon ran out of the bridge and up to the observation deck. He looked through the telescope. There was a gap in the line where the flagship had been and a cloud of gas rapidly dissipating. There was a second cloud where a falcon had stood.
The Apus had turned around and was heading back the way they had come. He ran back down the stairs, across the deck and up to the roof of the captain’s cabin at the stern where there was another telescope. But they were already thousands of miles behind the line. He saw more flashes but could no longer see what was happening.
Out of breath, he returned to the radio room. Radio shook her head.
Prince Rhatany, Princes Rhizic, Zizan, Rial, Quirinal and Tragopan, Rao Quern, Rao Tragus, admirals Queach and Quipu; all the male members of the Quill Royal Family. They were all gone. Burnt to a cinder in a second along with a thousand crewman on the Aquila and the falcon.
Nacyon had to sit down. He went outside and sat on the stairs. Dimly, he was aware of his friends gathering below him on the main deck, looking up at his face.
“What’s happened?” asked Stuggy Plover, her pinafore and hands covered in flour.
He heard Tringa say, “The flagship has been destroyed. Rao Quern and the princes are dead.”
There were gasps and Cargo Capella started saying a prayer for their souls. Rigger Knot joined her along with Boatman and Snipe. Stint and Stilt wept quietly. Only Dot, Nacyon and Tringa’s daughter, didn’t understand and kept asking why everyone was looking sad. The captain gave them a moment to reflect and then said, “We’ll hold a vigil for them later. But until we’re on the Ouroboros Road and heading south, I want everyone on watch.”
“I’ve got dumplings on the make,” said Stuggy.
Tringa sighed, “Everyone except you.”
Snipe asked, “Shall we break out the firearms?”
“Mater, no; if we’re boarded by Sagan, how long do you think we’ll last? Our only chance will be to surrender as quickly as we can. Keep watch and let me know if you see anything that might be one of their APCs.”
The crew went to their posts and Stuggy returned to her galley. When they were alone, Tringa sat down next to Nacyon and asked, “Once we’re through the asteroids, it’ll be two days to Rhizic but do you want us to stop there or head for Nidus?”
“The Queen is still on the Golden Eyrie,” he said, only half listening. “I should be the one to tell her the Sagan Council refused her request and all her ‘boys’ are dead.”
“She’ll know soon enough. The radio signals from the fleet will reach her long before we do.”
“I should still tell her in person.”
“What do you think that will achieve?”
“Perhaps she’ll recall the fleet, start making peace with our neighbours and end this war before it’s really begun.”
“And maybe turkeys will swoop through the air like eagles.”
“What else can I do?” he snapped. “If I don’t try to persuade Zizania to abandon her faith in the Zarktek, we’ll lose more than a fleet of ships.”
She cuffed him across the back of his head, “Stop being negative and start thinking about how you’re going to say the words. With Rhatany gone and Rimmon behind us, you’ll be the one she turns to once the crisis becomes obvious even to her.”
“I’m just a courier,” he said, getting to his feet.
“She chose you to deliver her message – she trusts you above everybody else.”
He nodded, “She calls me ‘Old Parrot’ - just like the real Zizania except it sounds like a compliment coming from her lips. Why did they have to make her say those things? She could have been the perfect Queen…”
“She’s not the Queen, Nacyon – she just looks like her.”
“Should we try and find the real Zizania? Perhaps she’ll be reasonable…”
“She’ll be far away by now. We’ve got as much chance of finding her as getting the old empire back.”
“Unless the Rickobites have a purpose for her too…”
“They’ve got their cuckoo in the nest. Mater knows why they wanted the real Zizania alive but it won’t be for our benefit. Even if we did get her back, they might persuade her to carry on with their plan as the price of her freedom.”
“We could never trust her,” he agreed.
“Perhaps it would be better if neither Zizania existed…”
He turned and stared at her, “Kill the Queen?”
“If she won’t put an end to the war, what other choice do we have?”
“I won’t do it,” he said.
“There’s nobody else,” she replied.
He felt his heart miss a beat. Tringa was right; without Zizania, the crown would pass to the next youngest of Tragacanth’s children. Princes Rhizic, Zizan and Rial were all dead and that left Princess Quillaia. He didn’t want to say it but she was actually the perfect choice. With Rani Rhus to guide her rather than Quern or Rhatany, she would end the war, sever the connection with the Rickobites and stand with humanity against the return of the Zarktek. She wasn’t too proud to apologise to the Sagan, to Zamut or to Saron. She could bring peace to the Quill Empire…
But the idea of killing anyone, least of all a sweet innocent like the fake Zizania, filled him with nausea again. “I know you’re right,” he said to Tringa. “But I’m not a murderer – there must be another way...?”
“You’ve got three days to think of one,” she said. “But if you can’t persuade her to betray the Rickobites, you’d better be ready to strangle her.”
*
Nacyon went down to the ambassadors’ deck to be alone. He sat at the desk in his old cabin and stared for hours through the window, his thoughts raging inside his head. To kill a queen was the ultimate sin. But what other choi
ce was there? She was going to open Quill’s doors to the Zarktek, give them a new home and then help them reclaim their old empires. She thought it would be a great honour. But all it would bring was death and chaos. She had no idea how weak Quill really was.
But Rimmon knew. The weapons he had sold them were adequate against a handful of hammerheads, pickets or patrol ships but useless against a Zamut heavy cruiser or a battleship. And as had just been proven, they were inadequate against Tun’s ships too. There was never any possibility, other than in the imaginations of Rao Quern and Rhatany, that they would be able to hold off the full power of the IZN, TIN or any of the other empires who might turn on them now if they thought Quill was in league with the Zarktek.
Then Nacyon realised, or perhaps he had always known, that Quern and Rhatany’s attack on the Zamut Empire had just been a diversion. Rimmon had played them for the fools they were. The attempt to claim Sapadilla had given the mission an air of legitimacy for his people but Damocles and Exitine were the Rickobites’ objective. He realised, with another lurch of his stomach, that Rimmon had sent his ships to support the Quill fleet, not because he expected to find ‘memories of treasure’ among the prisoners-of-war on the prison planets but a fully-fledged army. Like their masters, there were some species of genetically engineered soldier, such as the Cizer legions, rumoured to have extended life-spans – which meant, even after fifty years, they would still be ready to fight.
While the Quill Royal Navy had cleared the volumes around each system, the Cult of Adramelech had been rescuing an army behind their backs. And now, with their task complete, their ‘allies’ would disappear again and leave his people exposed to the wrath of the rest of the Third Sphere. Or worse, had the Queen given her permission for the Zarktek legions to be stationed on one of Quill’s worlds? Were they, even now, arriving on Rhipidat or Waratah?
When he wasn’t staring through the window, Nacyon paced around the room. He couldn’t sleep and he didn’t want to eat. He contemplated killing the false Queen and then himself. It seemed the only solution. He knew would never be able to live with the guilt.