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Hector is not displeased, by the tension he feels as he walks towards the
guarded door. One day, he will be the occupant of these quarters which are so
closely protected, and such zealous behaviour has to be encouraged by good
example. Even if one could somehow get into this area and kill the two guards by
the door, he knew there were others who were hidden in secret compartments along
the walls who would also be watching. The guards worked in pairs, never the same
team twice. And they each watched one another. Fortunately accidents among the
guards were rare, but they had been known to happen.
"Prince Hector, to see the Lady Penelope" he announces with his
hands lifted in front of him, palms showing.
By now his voice and his face has been recognized by machine guardians as
well as by the human kind. A gentle bell tinkles somewhere behind the door. The
guards who have been standing by the door, now walk briskly towards him, and
after passing him on either side, they continue for a little way behind him so
as to be well away from it when it opens. Hector ignores them at his back. It
would be unwise to turn around. As the door slides open with the hiss of an air
lock, he strides confidently into the waiting chamber. The outer door slides
shut behind him, and for a moment he is alone. In this chamber, a visitor can be
observed by the occupant behind the second door and if necessary detained or "expedited".
By such rituals do the rulers of Scythia ensure that their evening slumbers are
not rudely disturbed by the attentions of over zealous servants or assassins.
But he is known, and expected. After a short interval of about twenty
heartbeats, during which the air in the chamber is sampled and analysed, the
inner door hisses open, and with a prepared smile he walks through.
At his left side, Lady Penelope lowers the gun that has been trained on the
door, and places it under a cushion beside her. She is reclining on a wide
chaise, and has a black cat, panther-like sprawled at her right side. The cat
looks around as Hector approaches to kiss his mother and makes a complaining
sound. Penelope calms the cat with one hand and leans forward to be kissed on
the cheek. At the same time, Hector holds out his hand to be sniffed. The black
beast rubs his nose against the hand and then drops his heavy head with a loud
purr on the lap of his mistress and goes back to sleep.
It's easy to see that mother and son are forged from the same steel. Both
are dark haired, and have the demeanour of those who are so used to being obeyed
that they can afford to appear relaxed at all times. Penelope motions to Hector
to take a seat and help himself from a small table which has been arranged with
snacks and wine. He pours for himself from the large decanter and replenishes he
glass.
"I came by rocket-plane as soon as I got your message."
The coded message had said "Family reunion - use speed".
"But I see I got here a bit late for the festivities. Did you have a
good time? Are my brother and sister well?"
"As well as ever. So you don't know why I called?"
Hector smiled ruefully. "Not yet. I made urgent enquiries from the
plane - as you might guess. But I haven't yet managed to decrypt Jacko's signals
network - so I've no idea what's going on. Still I'm glad to see you looking
well."
"I'm relieved to find that even you can't break into our secure
communications, knowing how hard you try."
"Well partly, it's to keep Jacko on his mettle, because, he knows that
I keep up a constant attack on his spy network. As he says himself, if there is
a weakness, it's better to discover it by friendly forces. Occasionally he lets
me get wind of something, and just as I think I've got him, it turns out to be a
red herring. You have to admire his thoroughness."
"One day he or his successor will be your chief of security, so it's
good to know that the safeguards work."
"Yes, but one thing you can't easily hide is a rocket-plane landing in
the imperial park. We use them so little that by now, I imagine that most of the
spy-masters in the city must be wondering what's afoot."
"They'll find out soon enough, because for one thing, your brother is
going to start telling everyone tomorrow."
Hector laughs.
"Much as I love my young brother, any story that he starts to spread
around is very unlikely to be believed... Unless of course, it's got something
to do with horses. Has someone stolen a race-horse by any chance? Is that the
real emergency?"
Penelope gives him a disapproving look.
"Please bear in mind that it was me who called you, not Cato. So I can
assure you it's got nothing to do with racing. But to give your brother due
credit, he did manage to discover a horsy angle to it all by himself, and
possibly stands to make some money out of it into the bargain."
"Good for him. But you still haven't told me if the news is good or
bad. I know you wouldn't drag me away from my hunting without it being serious."
"How did the hunting go by the way? I should have asked."
"Not as well, as I hoped. We managed to track a dragon to its lair, and
we thought we had it covered, but just as we got close, our party was attacked
in the rear by another two that we didn't know anything about. A couple of our
men got killed. I shall have to deliver the news to their families."
"And the dragons?"
"As usual, they got away."
"Were you hurt?"
He smiles, and uncovers his right arm which is heavily bandaged. Although
the emergency field dressing is immaculately white on the outside, it's
possible to see a pink glow underneath that shows where a serious loss of blood
has been averted.
"One of these days you'll get yourself killed. It's always been
dangerous hunting dragons, especially without having energy weapons as back-up."
"It wouldn't be a sport, if we knew we could always get out of trouble.
As you well know, that's why we don't allow them in the game park."
"One of these days, a well armed assassin is going to ignore these
gentlemanly rules and wipe out half the heirs of this planet with a simple
handgun."
"I wouldn't lose sleep over it if I were you. The dragons are much more
dangerous than any would-be assassins. All the sea lanes are closely monitored
so it would be hard for anyone unauthorised to get to the game-park in the first
place. Once he got there, an assassin who didn't know about dragon hunting
wouldn't survive long against the first couple of lizards he came across. A gun
would give him a totally false sense of security. It takes years of practise
just to get to the stage where you see them before they see you. And then look
what happens..."
He waved his bandaged arm to emphasize the point.
"Well, I've got something different for you to hunt out, although I'm
afraid you will have to use modern methods. You're also going to have to use
dragon tactics if I understand them, and make sure that you can observe the prey
without them knowing."
Knowing that she now has his full attention, she describes the events of the
day leading up to his recall while he seemingly absently picks at the food on
the table. Daintily selecting a morsel here, a tit-bit there. In reality, she
knows that he's feigning a calm indifference while he absorbs everything she
says, and in reality he is quite excited. This is a characteristic he has
inherited or learned from him, and it's good to see this reflection of herself
in her eldest son.
Before long, he has finished most of the food. But he has left a little pile
of cold meat, which he picks up and waves under the nose of the snoring
panther-like creature. Absently it lift its head and opens its massive jaws
revealing a set of very capable carnivorous teeth. He feeds it the remains. It
purrs loudly and starts licking itself furiously. Then deciding that it's not
worthwhile remaining awake, the panther goes back to sleep with another purr.
"You spoil that cat" his mother says as if jealous of its
affection.
"I'm sure he remembers me."
"Of course he does. Otherwise he would have bitten your hand off. He's
very well trained. You do like taking risks don't you?"
Ignoring the accusation, which cannot be denied, Hector replies.
"If he's so well trained, why do you keep a gun under every cushion?"
"If I thought you'd believe me I'd say it was the risk of assassins,
but as you know we haven't had one get this far in 20 years. To be honest, I do
worry that one of these days he might wake up from a bad dream and forget who I
am and turn on me."
"It's very unlikely. He's probably your most loyal servant. You know
that the panthers have been bred to bond to just one person."
"Strangely enough, he seems to like you as well."
"I'm flattered. That's why I encourage him. I suspect that somewhere in
that fur brain he recognizes our relationship, and knows that I don't threaten
his position. But I wouldn't feel comfortable without you here to keep him under
control."
"Not as bad as a dragon, surely?"
"At least with a dragon, you know where you stand. And I wouldn't have
one in the house."
The dragon beasts were originally a native species, and had almost died out.
But about 800 years ago the emperor Damocles, had hit on the bright idea of
mutating their genes to make them more powerful, and to select into them a trait
for hunting humans, by careful breeding. How this had been achieved is not part
of this story. After the Damocletian period, the new rulers had developed more
wholesome tastes in entertainment. The dragons were released from captivity and
left to live in the large southern continent of Oz, which had been designated a
game reserve. Over the centuries, the sport of dragon hunting had been developed
by the ruling classes as a way to channel the excesses of a class whose first
thought was wont to be mutual destruction.
The sport of "dragon hunting" retained its name as part of an
ironical code of humour and honour which was typical of its young male
participants. More often than not the "hunters" became the victims.
The typical dragon-quest would claim the lives of many humans and it was very
rarely that a dragon was actually harmed. This seemed to lend the sport an even
greater mystique.
The dragons were a protected species. and it became an taboo offence,
punishable by torture to harm one by an energy weapon, traps or poison. The only
fair way to make a kill was by sword or spear or other hand weapon. This put the
human hunter at a great disadvantage.
Hector's penchant for dragon-quests caused continuous speculation about
whether he would actually survive to inherit his title. But this was also part
of his protection. There was little point in competing families trying to
assassinate an heir who was very likely to end up as a reptile's breakfast. On
the other hand, the heirs of most of the competing families would often go on
quests together, and the survivors could form bonds that would stand them in
good stead later. This is one of the many ways that Scythian society regulated
itself.
"So. Do you still regret being called away from your hunting?"
"Not at all. If I've got to locate this alien ship, without the crew
knowing they've been found... And in such a way that we can destroy it, if we so
choose... It more than compensates. If all goes well, perhaps we should find out
where we can get some more aliens and create a new sport..."
"As you'll soon realize, there are more than enough problems on our
doorstep without having to go out looking for them. Of course, when you become
ruler, you can make your own decisions, and if you want to use the navy for
piracy, just bear in mind the not too distant history of this region and how we
came to be here... The empire, does not take kindly to that sort of thing.
Let's get back to business. Jacko will place his resources at your disposal.
But all he can really do, is intercept any messages that our visitor sends. He's
already sent one, so there's every reason to expect more. But intercepting his
communications still leaves us vulnerable. We have to find his ship. There could
be a whole fleet of them as far as we know. So as you can see this is really a
space job which can only be handled by the navy. And as you're the family's
representative in that service..."
"So perhaps some of my education might come in useful after all."
"More than you might think. We may also have another problem to cope
with shortly because I've signalled an imperial alert to the imperial navy
central command."
"Ah... That is serious. You know we haven't a hope of destroying the
syndicated fleet when it arrives. The only way to keep those wolf packs under
control is power politics. I don't know how we deal with that."
"Don't worry. I'll be taking care of it. But it could end up being a
more serious threat in the long term than our visitor. So I thought you should
know."
"What are we going to do with this alien ambassador? Is he locked up
somewhere? Who's keeping an eye on him?"
"Helen. Yes, your sister... The one you try to pretend you aren't
related to."
"Hm. I doubt if her interest will last till morning."
"I agree."
"If we let him roam around Scythia, we could be taking quite a risk.
What if he gets hurt?"
"We'll try and protect him as well as we can. Jacko's going to assign
one of his best agents as a bodyguard."
"I'll talk to him tonight."
"He'll be expecting you. In fact, as it's half past two in the morning,
why don't you go and talk to him now. You're not going to get much sleep as it
is."
"And how about you? Don't you ever sleep."
"Luckily I only need a couple of hours. Unlike most of my children."
"OK. I'll say goodnight then." He leans over and kisses her cheeks
again.
"She looks up and asks "You do remember the codes?"
He sighs wearily. The codes are the ones he needs in the event of the ruler
being killed in an accident or by assassination. They grant access to a
space-port which has been buried for so many generations that at any time only
two people know even the fact of its existence. Inside the buried port is a
hidden space fleet which can be used in a last ditch emergency to flee the
imperial system forever, or to stand and fight. Whether the vessels would
actually function after so long idle is a matter for hypothesis. But generations
of Scythian rulers had drawn comfort from knowing the existence of the mythical
space fleet. Hence the family motto. "We survive."
"Yes, mother I know the codes. I think after the word 'mother' they
were the first words you taught me. When I was a child, I remember thinking that
my first tutor had made a mistake when he taught me how to count, because I had
never heard the words before in that order. I didn't know they had another
meaning. I always wondered what became of that tutor... But I suppose I can
guess."
"I should have realized it was too young to tell you. But those were
difficult times. You needed to know. We had to retire him."
"Retire him? Do you mean off-world?"
"Other-world, I'm afraid. The risk really was too great."
Hector nods in agreement and sighs.
"Well that's another childhood mystery taken care of. I always
remembered that incident with a sense of embarrassment. I rationalized it as
being because I had got something seriously wrong. But I must have sensed the
guilt."
"We thrashed the living daylights out of you as I recall and made you
promise on the pain of the punishment being repeated never to reveal those
numbers to a living person again, except to your designated heir."
"So you did. Do you know. I'd forgotten that entirely. I remember a
dark image connected with my father. But I thought that was to do with his
death."
"Whilst we're having this heart to heart. I suppose you ought to know
something else about your father."
Sensing something profound was going to be said. Hector reseated himself.
" Look I know he wasn't killed in the way that I was told. I made it my
business to find out. I used some of the navy resources to research what really
happened. I'm sorry, I know the truth. But I didn't want to hurt you, and it
seemed best to leave things as they were."
"So you don't believe he was assassinated?"
"No. I found out about how he was killed in a brawl in a brothel, over
some girl. I'm sorry. I didn't want you to know that I knew. I'm not surprised
you made up the cover story. I suppose most people nowadays, remember the
assassination story, and the fight in the brothel might have been a set-up for
an assassination, anyway. It was a long time ago. It doesn't really matter. But
knowing the truth helped me realize why you didn't go into mourning."
"It's difficult staying alive as the ruler in Scythia, without having
eyes in the back of your head. I don't think that wearing a black veil would
have improved my chances. But that wasn't the real reason for not mourning."
"You don't need to explain it to me. If father was killed in a brothel,
then obviously I understand how you must have felt. I was only four, so I never
really knew him."
"No. You didn't. Otherwise you wouldn't have believed that ridiculous
story. But fortunately most people did. You can always rely on people to believe
the worst. It makes things a lot easier when you're planting a false trail."
"False trail? I don't believe it! I broke into the defence files. I've
read the original handwritten secret reports... "
Penelope's silence at this point is an eloquent answer to his unasked
question.
"You mean they were manufactured by our own security people? Then he
was really assassinated after all? But why make up a false trail. What was
wrong with the real truth? Assassinations are unpleasant, but they do happen."
"Hector... I think you should call down for some more sandwiches. That
bell under the table, if you ring it, they'll send someone up from the kitchens.
You'll probably find a gun under your cushion. While you order some more
refreshments for both of us, I'll go into my study. I've got a one-to-one
transmitter link to Jacko in there. I'll let him know you're going to be
delayed."
"What about the cat?"
"I'll leave him here." She says disentangling herself from his
claws which he pulls in as she grasps his large paws in her hands. He rolls
over and sprawls inelegantly, still asleep, with his legs in the air.
"This is turning out to be quite an eventful night, but I don't
understand where father's death comes into it?"
"He's not dead. Not as far as I know anyway."
Hector's "in-control" façade has dropped. His face
registers real emotion, although his words are spoken quietly in disbelief. He's
not sure if she's serious. But this is Penelope. No-one can ever truly predict
what she will do for power or amusement. She has been known to lay traps for the
unwary.
"I can't believe this mother. Does losing blood make you imagine
things? I'm your eldest son, your heir. I think you've just told me that my
father, who has been dead for 25 years as far as everyone has ever known, may
not in fact be dead at all. He wasn't killed when I was four... You're not
really a widow... Pardon me if I ask a stupid question, but if he is still alive
then would it be reasonable to ask where the hell is he?"
"That... Is something I really don't know. He may even be dead... But
he was not murdered in a brothel, and is not anywhere, dead or alive on Scythia.
Our alien visitor could be a case of the proverbial chickens coming home to
roost."
"But..."
"No more explanations until after, I've called Jacko, and the kitchen's
sent up more refreshments. You should eat and drink some more because you really
have lost a lot of blood. I can see that in your face. Even if you did change
the dressing on the rocket-plane just before you landed. Don't ask me how I
know. My spy network is the one that's been keeping us alive for the last 25
years. You need to be in good condition tomorrow. We all do.
"Order some tea for me, and some fresh meat for Panther. I'm going to
ask Jacko to put this area on maximum screening. It's always screened anyway,
but a secondary screen is always a good idea if you're about to reveal an
imperial close secret. You're in the navy, I'm sure they've told you about these
things. I believe it still counts as a capital offence, to reveal a close
imperial secret even to one's heir without express imperial permission. Still,
I've got a feeling that our heads could all soon be on the block anyway. I'm
sorry I couldn't tell you this before. But it may give you a better idea of what
we're up against." |
