Kaldean Chronicles: Kaldean Sunset (Book I) (10 page)

“You'll get to go to the outer reaches.”

“No.”

“Do you actually think you have a choice?” The Emperor turned to Magnus. “I want an entire platoon escorting the boy there and back, along with three fleet fighters locked onto him at all times. You will coordinate with my security team for further details.”

“Yes, your highness.”

He turned back to Antoni. “They're sincere. I've dealt with the Larvos before. They're a peaceful bipedal race with impressive technology. This won't be the first time we've traded with them. We're as close as two races can get to being allies.”

“I'm not worried about them.”

“The anti-tech group will travel in small numbers, and meet us on neutral ground in a mutually agreed upon location on Vermillion near the border. You will meet with the people, greet them then wait for my arrival. I will be there shortly after you arrive.”

“Do the Larvos speak the common tongue?”

“They have other ways of communicating. You will understand them.”

Antoni didn't want to wait. The first three meetings would be quick sit downs with the governors, and he would draw them out as long as possible. The last thing he wanted to do was meet with enemies of the state in the far reaches. He wanted to go there, but not like this, when his life could be in danger. He didn't care what his father said. The groups were primitive and violent, prone to desperate acts of terrorism.

They hated the Empire, they always had. They set it up as the home of all evil. They called it Babylon in reference to a prehistoric state that was often used as a symbol of gluttony and arrogance. That's not what they were. The groups were driven by psychotic leaders that spread hateful propaganda and brainwashed their children into gruesome acts of barbarism. Antoni resented his father for making him meet with them, but there was no way to stop it from happening.

Victor sat in the meeting hall after his son left and let the morning roll by. There was a lot to do, but it was healthy to procrastinate sometimes, especially when things are getting hard. He stared down at the light reflecting off the table, then closed his eyes allowing his mind to travel.

Magda had the most beautiful way of moving, even when she was pregnant her hips would slink and her hair would fall. Her voice was like fine champagne out and tickled Victor whenever her words were sweet, and they always were. She was kind and infinitely patient, capable of letting things pass her by without letting them effect her, even when faced with insurmountable obstacles. She was a fighter, somebody who could get through anything just like her son.

Victor missed that. He saw the way his son looked at him, and how he reacted. She was there, embedded deep inside of him, and it hurt.

He had grieved before. Victor was too old, and had outlived everyone he knew when he was a child, but he never grieved the way he grieved when Magda died. There are pure souls out there, people that don't let life get them down. They never lose their spark, or their passion for life. That was Magda. She was more saint that human.

What he missed most was laying with her in his arms and pulling her towards him, letting her lips linger just a little too long as they basked in each other’s presence. They didn't have to talk, and they didn't have to make love. They could lay silently, content to enjoy the time they had. Sometimes, especially after a particularly hard time, that was all Victor was capable of and she understood. She did little things to make it easier.

She'd bring him tea and little snacks to make sure he was eating. She'd wash his clothes and remind him of things he might've forgotten. She was the Empress, a ruler in her own right, and she still had a chair right next to where Victor was sitting. Sometimes, when he didn't know what to do, he would turn his chair around to ask her a question, only to find that it was empty. That was why he was so glad that his son was there with him, because the boy could easily fill her place in the meeting hall.

What Victor needed now was some comfort, somebody he could hold and pretend that she was there with him. All he had to do was ask, but it was hard. He was a dignified man and didn't like to embarrass himself like that. It was petty to be ashamed of using a concubine, but he was old and held himself to conventions that young people do not.

Instead he sat for a while and let his instincts build, then walked out to speak with his guard privately. The transaction was quick. There was always a Magda on hold for him. He ordered her DNA uploaded when she died, but he let her memories die with him. He didn't want to get lost in another knowing that it wasn't his Magda.

Magda was there waiting for him. That vision was the only thing that comforted him, even though he knew that she wasn't. Instead, he was tricking himself into reliving an intimate act with a puppet, but it didn't matter, because when he walked in the room she was there. She had the same milk white skin, and the smile that built a fire inside him.

“Victor?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, I'm so glad you're here.” The voice was hypnotic. It pulled him into her arms, while she kissed down his neck just like she used to. He was there again. Life was simple and Magda had been resurrected if only for a second while she stripped off his robe and got up softly so she could stand in front him.

Her body peeked out from the translucent pink silk, just as it had been on the day they first met. He couldn't stop himself. He slammed her in and forced her on top of him, relishing in her passionate screams.

He swelled up. His groin at first, then his stomach and finally his head, where his heart exploded, and he fell limp onto the soft mattress. Magda
was waiting for him just past the veil between the worlds. She was ready to take him in so they could finally be reunited.

“Every single trip is the same.” Antoni was sitting with his legs up on the bench, fuming. The mines were dark and cold. He was still shivering when he got in the ship. “Those governors. They're fake, every last one them, always trying to impress me.”

“They want your head on a platter.” Magnus took a swig of his whiskey.

“I wish we could just do away with them altogether.”

Antoni slunk back into the corner and closed his eyes. “Do I have to go Magnus?”

“Yes.”

Vermillion was as alien a landscape as you could find, black skies and land covered in bright red dirt. The city had to be shielded in order to survive there, and when you walked outside you had to wear a breathing mask. The atmosphere was made up of a toxic compound that had to be converted in order for humans to breathe it.

The anti-tech groups chose that planet to build their city because of its remote location, and the sharp rocks that jutted out from the surface like mountains. Strategically it was perfect because they could hide inside of them and shoot down ships, and it was difficult to maneuver when you got into the atmosphere. There were so few open spaces that the land had to be cleared in order for ships to land there.

The groups themselves were a loosely organized bunch, divided into tribes of small cities each located on a different planet. Each group was named after planet they lived on. The prince would be meeting the Vermillions. They were all organized under the banner of their church, known as the Trinity. It began as an offshoot of the Crusaders when the Lorian Sisterhood took over, but never grew very much. They simply relocated themselves outside the borders during the Blood Jihad and kept quiet.

They adopted some technology over the years. Their main concern was computers, but they did have electronics and mechanical devices. Their bio-engineering was the stuff of legends. It was said that they could build an ecosystem if they wanted, but there was no proof of that. If they could, then they wouldn't be living in a pile of dust.

The most intriguing thing about the group was their ability to travel from one system to another. Nobody was certain how they did it without the use of the Artemis system. It was a closely guarded secret. The main consensus was that they had developed a propulsion system that allowed humans to move fast enough without getting hurt. It was unlikely considering the fact pilots would have the same issue the early space folders did with trying to dodge obstacles.

The reason why they were so feared was because of the propaganda campaign that had been launched by the church, and the violence that ensued because of it. Groups were careening themselves into the Empire, taking over planets and destroying machines. It was only a matter of time before they started suicide bombing the Artemis complex, and that was a major worry. Once that started happening, they would be painting the galaxy red with the blood of martyrs from every system they could reach.

It was no wonder that when they folded space, Antoni had his eyes closed hoping to wake up in bed. He was a strong man, one that could withstand many things, but it was his willpower and intellect that made him strong. He melted in the face of danger.

What really got him about this was the fact that he had been begging his father to let him travel to the outer reaches for years, but now that he was finally on his way he was terrified. Maybe it was a good thing that he stayed at home for the most part.

He wanted to be strong enough, and he always thought that he was. He realized that he had an unrealistic view of himself. He wasn't a barbaric warrior, or a fierce fighter, he was a strategist. He could sit in the boardroom conducting wars, just like a true Emperor, but he couldn't take his place of the battlefield. If he was going to rule, he would have to find a way to change that.

When he opened his eyes, Magnus was trying to stifle his laughter. “All that time, begging and begging, “Magnus I wanna go.'” He imitated a whining child.

Antoni jumped up and punched him in the face, then jolted back certain that Magnus was going to hit him. The guard just laughed harder.

“Just don't piss yourself.”

They landed softly in the middle of a blood red field of dust then put on their face masks before the door opened, drenching them in sand. It got everywhere. It covered their clothes, stuck to their hair, and dyed their skin. The guards that were waiting outside were wearing scarves over their faces and goggles so the sand didn't get in their eyes as the wind rained it down on them.

“This is terrible,” Antoni shrieked.

One of the guards traded a look with Magnus who handed him a pair of goggles and a scarf. He put them on, glad to have something to shield him, but the sand kept clumping and blocking off his vision. He had to keep wiping it off as they got into a transport and drove to the city.

He was able to get a glimpse of the landscape as they drove passed. The sharp red spires contrasted against the jet black sky, and the backdrop of stars that peeked through the thin atmosphere. Everything below sky level faded together as the cloud of dust got thicker. It was a hellish world, where death came easy, and the colonists had to fight to survive.

The dust collected on the surface of the dome that shielded the city, giving it the appearance of a perfectly round rock. Any other city would've used a particle repellent which would've allowed ships to enter, but the Vermillions preferred to use transparent carbon. That meant that they had travel past the spires and into a narrow pass that led to the subterranean entrance to the city.

They went through numerous security checkpoints, and were forced to have the men examine all of their belongings. Once, one of the guards tried to check his clothing, and Magnus put a plasma cannon up to the guard's temple. The man ran away and they were allowed to pass. Whoever allowed him to do that must've wanted the meeting to take place.

The Vermillions wouldn't talk to the Emperor unless they wanted something from him, and only if they were desperate. Antoni should've realized that right away. They would get through safely, even though it was obvious that Vermillions had the upper hand when it came to security. He began to fear for his safety as they passed the gates that led to the entrance of the city and left the transport behind.

The Vermillions had digressed into an animalistic state. He noticed, as he walked towards the meeting place, that they wore clothing woven from organic materials that had been harvested on one of the other planets. The Kaldeans could synthesize any material they wanted to. The practice of refining organic products and using them in manufacturing was considered taboo. They were dusty, with rags over their face to protect them from the sun, and cloaks covering their entire bodies.

The group walked through stalls where men and women bartered food in the open air without the use of refrigerators. They didn't have much, only withered roots and vegetables. They used real animals rather than synthetic meat, a proposition that made Antoni's lunch rise up in its stomach.

Everyone walked around with a plasma cannons on their hip, and a strip of leather that contained, to Antoni's disgust, the bones of tiny animals. They weren't people. People didn't live like this. Their children didn't dart around with no shoes on, and dust in their hair. The men didn't look at you like a piece of meat when you walked by.

They were hungry, many were sick, and a few looked like they were dying. They didn't seem happy. They weren't. They were fighters, sick of trying to survive. It was no wonder they were invading other systems. They needed the resources to better their disgusting quality of life.

That wasn't going to happen. These people were going to die out. You could see it in the way they walked with their heads down and the purple flowers they left at tiny shrines on every corner. They needed hope, and sweet heaven, Antoni wanted to bring it to them.

There was a boy with one eye that stared at him when they started walking up the steps to the council building. He must've been only five or six years old, but he had the look of an old man. He just stared, and he wouldn't stop. It was as if he was telling Antoni not to forget to him, to remember what he saw and how their people lived.

One of the guards that surrounded the prince gave the boy an evil look, but he just stared back defiantly. Nobody knew why he was there, but the entire group felt his presence, even as they walked into the simple building and found themselves standing in front of a group of Larvos.