“Who’s that?” I ask.
“Evandros?” Erita exchanges glances with Oalla and Radanthet, then points with one finger up. “He’s the Atlantis Station Nomarch. Permanently stationed in orbit overhead at the SPC Headquarters, permanently in charge of the whole place except when the SPC Commander goes up there. These days, he reports to Kass directly. At one point, Kass reported to him.”
“He used to train all of us back in the day,” Oalla adds. “Even this chazuf here.” And she nods at Radanthet.
“Not a single SPC Pilot hasn’t had Evandros for a teacher at some point,” Radanthet says. “He makes astra daimon. He trains everyone, but the best first-year SPC Pilots get rotated from other Stations to serve under his supervision for a longer period, before getting assigned to different Wars.”
“I see.” I turn to Gracie. “Have you worked with him yet?”
“Gee Two, I’m not an SPC Pilot,” my little sister tells me seriously, shaking her head at my gaffe. “I wish I were, but that didn’t even come up yet, considering I’m still a Cadet. You have to be a full Imperial Fleet Pilot before being considered for SPC.”
“That might change soon,” Erita says quietly under her breath. “The way things are going, they’re gonna need everyone who can fly anything up there at some point.”
I frown. “You really think so?”
Erita just shakes her head and points at the big screen with the Rah Station and the grid of golden lights covering all visible space in the background.
In the middle of tenth hour, as promised by Hel-Ra Network, the IEC Assembly chamber is broadcast and the IEC Member chosen to address the nation is ACA Director Hijep Tiofon. I watch the familiar face of Tiofon as he speaks in a very upbeat, simplified language, expressing his reassurances to everyone that the “so-called alien threat” has not actually manifested itself in any way, and that the general deployment is simply a precautionary measure.
“You know that we have the best and brightest military forces at our disposal, and we take any potential threat very seriously,” Director Tiofon says. “At the same time, you’re aware that it is our centuries-old policy to mobilize and deploy before any hostilities have occurred. Let me remind those of us who might’ve forgotten our history lessons that Fleet deployment has occurred numerous times in previous years, decades, centuries, with no resulting conflict. This is very likely one of such times.
“We observe an anomaly, an unidentified phenomenon, and we take prudent, precautionary measures. That is all. I strongly recommend you go about your business and your daily lives, and don’t let some pretty lights in the sky affect your sense of security and well-being. Atlantida armed forces, and the forces of the entire planet under the auspices of the Star Pilot Corps are protecting you, day and night.”
When finished, Director Tiofon takes some easy questions submitted by the public via the feeds, about the new phenomenon of the golden grid of light and the ongoing presence of the ghost moon. His replies are all lightweight non-answers. “No, we don’t know the origin or purpose of the unidentified lights around Helios, but we are working on it. . . . The threat level they pose has not been determined but we are taking precautions. . . . The ghostly moon object is still there, and we don’t know if it’s all related. As soon as we have answers, you’ll be duly informed. . . .”
A few minutes later, at eleventh hour, comes the Imperial Address.
I haven’t seen Romhutat Kassiopei in person for days, not since the Games Champion Ceremony. Today, he wears the red Khepresh headdress that is the Imperial Crown of Atlantida with the golden Uraeus serpent on his forehead and a ceremonial scarlet robe, framed against the background of the Throne—I recognize the formal seat from his antechamber reception area in the Imperial Palace Quarters—and his face is devoid of emotion. From what Aeson had told me about his Father’s panicked state, I understand that all of this is only a public show of force. Right now, the Imperator, appearing as the menacing dragon of power, is the ultimate and necessary form of reassurance for the population.
We listen as he speaks softly, using a slightly enhanced power voice, to convey the sense of absolute confidence and trust.
“People of Atlantida, you have nothing to fear. We are aware of the situation and the Fleet has responded as intended.” The Imperator faces the camera directly with his dark lapis lazuli eyes of a near-black hue. The intensity of his heavy gaze is palpable, but for once it seems appropriate—if it gives the public a badly needed sense of comfort via strength. “Our military forces are the ultimate net of safety for the human race. Our technological advances are greater than you can imagine. They who govern you as elected officials have never failed you. Neither has the Imperial Kassiopei Dynasty. All the ancient power through the ages and infinite generations is behind you, and we are invincible—then, now, and always. You have my Imperial Word that you are protected.”
The Imperator’s striking face fades from view, and his words hang powerfully in the air, before the network feeds resume, with more Desher Keigeri and various panelists commentary.
Moments later, we see clips of other global leaders addressing their nations. There’s the familiar image of Kephasa Sewu, the Oratorat of Eos-Heket, who is now back in their capital city Ushab, speaking to her people. There’s the old Pharikon Areviktet Heru addressing New Deshret in a calm, quavering voice that sounds slightly less frail than usual.
In addition, there are several unfamiliar-to-me individuals also speaking to their people. A youthful middle-aged man with dark brown skin, Anen Qur, the First Speaker of the Ennead of Ubasti, addresses an assembly of thousands in an outdoor venue. An older man with pale skin, Inevar Arelik, the Rai of Ptahleon, speaks into the camera from a dignified office chamber. Another Rai—a man of indeterminate years, with very black hair and bronze skin, Osuo Menbuut—talks to the people of Shuria. Wilem Paeh, the Crown Hereret of Vai Naat, an older man with brown hair and light brown skin, speaks to his public. Rai Duu Valaam addresses his subjects in Bastet; the young Hetmet of Qurartu, Qedeh Adamer, speaks to his people.
It goes on and on.
“They’re all just feeding us shebet, aren’t they?” Gracie says suddenly.
“Oh, yeah,” Oalla chuckles ruefully.
“But it’s a good thing,” Radanthet says. “People need calm, soothing shebet when the world is ending.”
The rest of the day is tedious and unremarkable. Aeson returns home very late that night, exhausted. After I force him to eat a niktos meal that’s closer to a Ghost meal, he collapses in bed, and so do I—both of us in our different bedrooms, of course, since we are still maintaining our chaste distance according to the silly nuptial tradition.
The next morning is Green Ghost Moon 13. Fleet deployment continues, having grown to a trickle, and since no new threats have materialized for now, the public returns to their regular daily concerns.
Aeson receives the first batches of translations of the various artifact scrolls and, between calls to his Father and Shirahtet, he spends hours perusing the translations for anything useful—all while fielding more calls, dispatches, endless data, and other SPC business.
Meanwhile I receive a few messages of my own—a brief progress report on my Champion wish fulfillment from the Games staff (they are still having some trouble with finalizing the arrangements for proxy voting for Chihar’s board of education, while Zaap’s nature preserve is progressing nicely), and a Wedding schedule item reminder for tomorrow.
The next big item on my Bridal agenda is coming up—alien threat be damned—and it is Bride Show Day.
Chapter 42
Did I mention what the hell is Bride Show Day? It’s the day the Imperial Bride is all dressed up and driven around town to different public venues where she basically shows up, smiles and waves, speaks a few words maybe, then is carted off to the next location.
I’m supposed to be unaccompanied, except for my personal guards and a few chosen female companions. And as far as I can tell, the pu
rpose of this whole stupid thing is to just show me off to the people.
“Oh, Aeson, do I have to? Haven’t they seen me enough? I mean, at several points during the Games I even mooned them,” I groan over our shared eos bread in the workroom that’s become SPC Central, on the morning of Green Ghost Moon 14.
Aeson sets down his eating utensil and leans in very close to me, whispering near my ear, “Is it wrong to admit I enjoyed that show?”
“Oh, gawd, Aeson! So wrong!” I punch his arm with mock outrage, while a few feet away Keruvat and Oalla laugh. “I was in constant mortal danger, with my pants down, and you were checking me out?”
“Never when you were in true harm’s way. Only when I felt you were reasonably safe.” Aeson chuckles, grabbing my fingers then pressing them sensuously with his large ones, and I giggle, because it’s such a precious relief to have these lighthearted moments right now.
And then I leave them to their work and proceed to my own side of the Quarters to get ready for my Bridal ordeal.
My outfit and appearance for this event is not supposed to be as formal as for the Ladies of the Court Bridal reception. In fact, the look is “festive casual,” similar to what I wore to Kokayi’s parade in Themisera.
I select a sparkly purple, blue, and gold top and matching blue pants from my closet, and have my personal maid Aranit do my hair and makeup, without resorting to the haute couture services of Consul Denu. My hair is gathered in an artful knot with a ponytail, and yes, I get a sprinkling of gold dust that Aranit seems to favor so much. I am wearing the traditional Kassiopei eyeliner and violet eyeshadow, with a natural shade of noohd on my lips. Nothing overly dramatic, just enough for me to not appear too faded in the fierce sunlight. As always, my protective shade lenses go in my eyes.
The event starts at tenth hour, and Aeson has assigned Anu once again to drive my car—since that other time with Kokayi’s event had worked out so well—while my primary bodyguard Tuar Momet and my female friends ride with us. The rest of my guards and the Imperial Princess’s guards are in the second and third vehicles, flanking us closely and keeping “relentless watch over both the Imperial Bride and the Imperial Princess” under im amrevu’s strictest orders.
As for my girlfriend entourage, my lucky companions today are indeed Princess Manala, Gracie, Hasmik, and Laronda. Hasmik managed to get a day off work—which means, Manala was immediately excited to join us, secure in the knowledge that only her favorite people would be coming. Gracie and Laronda, both on permanent Fleet standby, had no flight drills scheduled, so they said yes to seeing the sights of Poseidon.
“Where are we going first?” Gracie asks next to me, as we sit together, all girls squished into one hover car. With so many of us, we had to take a large 8-seater.
“I think we go to the downtown complex first,” I reply. “The Golden Grail Plaza?”
“Correct,” Anu says from the seat directly before me, with Tuar again next to him.
“And what are you supposed to do there, janik?” Hasmik asks from the row behind me where she sits next to Princess Manala.
“Just show up and smile, I guess. These are all supposed to be surprise, pop-in appearances.” I glance back at Hasmik with a grin.
Of course, not much surprise there, since the media has been notified of all locations in advance, and they will be there to film every artfully unplanned moment of my visits.
“Smile and wave, and make them ha-a-a-appy,” Laronda drawls from the back seat. “They will love it.”
Laronda’s being flippant, but she’s right, of course. At this uncertain time, with the threat of war, invasion, and annihilation hanging over us, Bride Show Day is the perfect “normal” distraction for the people of Poseidon and Atlantida.
“I’ll do my best,” I say.
As we descend from the air traffic lane to ground level, the sight of the immense complex fills our view with sparkling metallic rooftops and adjacent high-rises. The Golden Grail Plaza, located between the various stadium structures, is a beautifully manicured pedestrian open space of modern lawns, park benches, walkways, and water features, including several fountains with statuary.
My surprise appearance is supposed to take place at the slightly elevated pavilion where public concerts and speeches are given, and where today an episode of some talk show is being recorded for the feeds. All I need to do is stroll through the pavilion with my friends and wave at the host of the show. The host, a perky young woman, will see me, and act all surprised and excited, and interrupt her show to point me out to the audience.
I’m not going to get into the tediousness of it all. Let’s just say, it happens. I put on a goofy smile, I walk, my friends walk, the host squeals at the sight of me. “Can you believe it? We are honored by the Imperial Bride herself! It’s Gwen Lark, here in person! What could she be doing here? Look, everyone!”
There is general applause, whistles, and a few familiar calls of “Shoe-Lace Girl! Gwen Lark!”
I wave again, and continue going.
“Happy Bride Show Day!” they call in my wake, while eager nano-cams swirl like dust motes in the sunshine all around us.
“Oh, yeah, that wasn’t much of a surprise. Seriously?” Gracie laughs as we get out of there, and return to the hover cars.
“It’s official, this is very stupid,” Laronda says, plunking next to me, while Gracie takes her former seat in the back.
“Yes, I was just thinking that.” I giggle.
“It is a strange, old tradition,” Manala says. “Gwen, it is very silly, I agree, and now that I think about it, I don’t know why anyone would waste time with it when they could really be visiting interesting places instead.”
“As opposed to fake visiting?” Laronda gives her a mischievous look.
“Oh, yes!” Manala nods and points to another end of the Plaza still visible below us. “We could be truly, genuinely visiting that little round building which houses the Museum of Ancient Toys, with the greatest collection of Original Colony children’s artifacts, or the beautiful stone Shrine of the Four Cornerstones of Atlantida on the other side of the Nebetareon—”
“Where to next?” I ask, even as Manala describes her favorite places.
Anu continues driving but glances at the digital tablet in a holder nearby and swipes the screen with one hand to bring up the master schedule. He hands it to Tuar and tells him to read what it says.
“Agnios Park, at tenth hour and thirty minutes,” Tuar says.
And we merge into the nearest air lane.
Almost at a run, we breeze through the shady paths of Agnios Park with its tall ancient trees interspersed with newly planted ones, and walk at a quick pace toward the most popular public portion with beautiful greenery, wide lawns, and glaring Hel-shine. It’s Redday, the first day of the work week, so the park is not as crowded as it could be at this time of morning, but just enough to make everyone notice us.
A few reporters from different networks appear as if out of nowhere, and I am briefly interviewed in the middle of the gravel path, even as I continue to wave at passersby, mostly young children and old women watching over them.
“Happy Bride Show Day!” the women call out to me kindly, or just politely, as they pass. This must be a very common tradition.
And then we’re off again, toward our next destination.
Hours later, maintaining our brisk pace, we’ve crisscrossed most of Poseidon.
“I have to admit, this is still extremely ridiculous, but at least we’re getting to drive all over town and see amazing stuff,” Laronda says, twirling a little painted hand-fan on a stick she just bought from a market stall in the Nebet Arts district.
In these past several hours we’ve visited locations deeper inland, various hillside communities including our own Phoinios Heights, several more parks, three sprawling urban shopping centers and four open-air markets (where we all made a point of buying a few souvenirs and trinkets and chatting with the colorful stall vendors), an outdoor a
mphitheater near the Bay, then back to the business district downtown—this time, past the stadium complex and its ubiquitous Grail Monument—and to the steps of the Imperial Court of Law building with architectural elements of a grand ziggurat and a stepped pyramid. We even dropped by the Poseidon Central Correctional Facility located past downtown and halfway into the Bay districts and waved at the prisoners exercising in the tall fenced yard. Surprisingly, quite a few of them waved back, with hoots, raucous applause, and cries of “Shoe-Lace Girl! Im-pe-ra-tris!”
“Yes, Happy Bride Show Day back at you, bald guy with big head!” Laronda calls out, waving back along with me, and fanning the air over her head, while Hasmik and Manala giggle. Gracie tries to look dignified, but her lips are tight with holding back giggles of her own.
“Mother of shibet . . . enough already—I mean, sorry, let’s get out of here and do the next one, Imperial Lady Gwen,” Anu mutters with an annoyed frown, then checks himself before his mouth runs away with him even further.
He scans his tablet schedule while Tuar and all our guards wait, surrounding us in a protective circle. In that moment Anu’s surly expression brightens as he announces loudly, “Hah, now we’re talking! Next stop is the Main Wharf Promenade at Fish Town! Perfect time for a dea meal, Imperial Lady Gwen. So, okay, let’s go!”
Laronda opens her eyes super-wide to make a face at Anu behind his back. Hasmik and I exchange amused glances, while Gracie and Manala are occupied with opening a package of something edible we’ve just bought, resembling Earth macaron cookies.
We head to Fish Town.
As we descend near the urban shoreline of the Bay, our first sight of the waterfront is the immense Poseidon Harbor, several smaller marinas, and endless rows of piers and rock-piled jetties extending out into the mauve-blue waters.
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