Among Bright Stars... (22 page)

[July 9, 2033. Vorkrür Docks, Imperial Yacht
Mayura Khaihir]

Hooked nosed, a forward placed bridge gave
it the appearance of a slit-eyed hunting animal. Its hunched, rear
engine assembly caused the yacht to resemble a bird of prey,
prepared to swoop in for a kill. The Arshruk-class
Mayura
Khaihir
, or in translation, the
Peacock Wind-Blade
had a
gunmetal hull, adorned with golden highlights. Set into the
corvette’s armor were red jewels, which under the bright Indian sun
sparkled crimson. Intricate scroll work artfully incised into its
heavy plating left the impression of feathers. The
Mayura
Khaihir
served the function of mobile palace for the Shotar and
his entourage, though the corvettes were in common use by most
Falcanian nobles as luxury liners or Tharrin workhorses.

On the upper most deck, in the grand
ballroom proceeded the official reception. Sharr rested on a heavy,
iridescent peacock-throne and watched as his guests arrived. Like
the yacht, the throne had been embellished with jewels that beamed
an inner azure light.

“His Excellency, Naresh Singh,” Ch’Kran
Trakan called out from his place at the door. “Rajah of the Indian
Republic.” Trakan’s father, technically head of government waited
beside the Shotar on his throne which had been arranged at the
center of the room, along with the Shotar’s wives and other
important Falcanians. In the company of the Majordomo as he
announced new guests Temujin Sardur keenly watched, his elite
Hunter-Seeker Drakorian garbed in full battle armor walked the
crowd. The very fact that Sharr Khan had tamed this notorious
pirate prince proved most impressive to many of visiting diplomats
who regarded Temujin curiously.

Sikh warriors surrounded Naresh’s party as
he entered the ballroom. The Rajah, dressed in a fine orange Nehru
jacket, had crowned himself with a golden turban that sparkled with
a central diamond. Naresh’s favorite son Ram, stood proudly with
his Father. The Sikh detachment saluted Sharr, and then went about
greeting other politicians.

“Their Imperial Highness's: Tzar Dmitri, and
Grand Duchess Natalia Antares of the Russian Empire.”

Arshira, stunning in her scanty, form
caressing viridian evening gown that did little to hide her
voluptuous assets whispered: “They're Morningstars, though the
Russian propaganda never acknowledged they were created in America.
Dmitri und Talia became national heroes, annihilated Chechen
rebels, set themselves up as twin Tsarist rulers.” The emerald-eyed
girl continued, cautioned. “Through raw ruthlessness, the Antares
brought reform to Russia. They’re not exactly friends of the
American Imperium either.”

“She’s so beautiful.” Ariel observed, as the
Russian woman removed her crimson velvet cloak, and hood to uncover
straight black hair that stood out against unblemished snow white
skin. Bright-blue eyes, a particular Morningstar trait set upon
Sharr Khan on his peacock throne. Natalia grinned, pleased by what
she beheld.

“Deadly, too.” Arshira locked her eyes onto
Natalia Antares. Began to contrast herself with this other
Morningstar female. It was quite easy to see Natalia was fashioned
as an enchantress. The profile which Nadia provided to her sure
supported that notion. “Best we keep her away from your Father.”
Said the Concubine Queen dryly. Arshira noticed her sister
Morningstar's gaze had come to rest seductively onto the Shotar.
“Talia's known to be a man eater.” She cleared her throat. “Und,
she's just the sort of woman Sharr will want to fuck.”

Dmitri Antares, spiky haired, and blue-eyed
who looked like a young Lenin, did not find himself very impressed
by his sister’s wanton display as she gazed up at Sharr Khan on his
throne. Nor did his hosts’ generous hospitality placate Dmitri. The
Falcanians railroaded his nation into this summit. The Tzar
grimaced, and he dismissed anyone who did not offer fidelity to his
Imperial being.

Temujin kept an eye on the Tzar.
Trouble,
he thought.

“Prime Minister Archibald Blud, of the
British Empire.” Announced the Majordomo. An affable old
gray-haired gentleman, who wore a stiff navy blue overcoat, and
leaned on a cane walked nobly into the room.

“Lord Blud, architect of the British
Empire,” Arshira continued to brief Ariel. “Once a highly regarded
general, he set into policy the 'return to empire' that got him
elected PM, und has kept him in power ever since.” In Lord Blud’s
retinue Arshira noted Commander Guillaume LaSalle, as well as his
Captain Cole Braden. “Your Mother says that one is special,”
Arshira nodded in the direction of Commander LaSalle. “Likely, one
of us. That is, LaSalle is a Morningstar.”

“Really? Why do we not try and recruit
him?”

“Commander LaSalle serves us better where he
is. He's close to King Odin, und his sympathies clearly rest in
Falcania’s favor.” The Valküri-General knew directly from having
dealt with him, Guillaume LaSalle could be trusted, it had been his
Intel which helped birth this peace summit. As far as she could
tell, Commander LaSalle was acting under secret orders from King
Odin, and not the Prime Minister. Odin Battenberg moved under his
own agenda, which for the moment aligned with that of the Falcanian
Khanate.

“The Techatron Union Ambassadors, RX and…”
Ch’Kran Trakan proclaimed. A dozen men came into the ballroom, each
wore plain gray bodysuits that were fitted with electronics and
wires that fed into implants in their bodies. They surrounded three
ovular floating tanks filled with a bioelectric green-blue gel.

“What are they?” Ariel wondered.

“The men in those suits are handlers,
nothing more,” hatred filled Arshira’s every word. “Each wired into
Omicron’s overmind. Those floating tentacled tanks are Techla, the
real rulers!” Her emerald eyes pierced into the globular vessels.
“Before the Mega-computer, Omicron gained sapience, a few members
of the Techatron Union elected to have their beings uploaded into
those orbs so that they might free themselves of our ‘primitive’
bodies burden. They believed flesh stunted understanding of our
universe.”

Princess Ariel watched one of the
greenish-blue filled tanks hover on its own null field, eight
blue-gray tentacles dangled below. Little sparks fired off in the
gel, neural impulses she realized, colliding as the Techla took in
its environment and sent data back to Omicron. Ariel asked
concerned. “You seem disgusted?”

“Oberon sent me to retrieve Techatron
computer processors,” Arshira grimaced at the memory, which
returned sharply, as if it were just yesterday she voluntarily
merged herself to Omicron. “In order to do so, I had to be altered,
which allowed me to integrate with Omicron. Not at all a beautiful
experience, not like our communion in the Phoenix Heart. Cold und
barren. Omicron is inhuman, takes you over.” She sighed, pushed
aside the memory. In retrospect, now knowing what she was, her
hatred of the computer mind seemed incongruous. “Had it not been
for my... Morningstar nature, I’d never have recovered from the
machine’s hold on me.”

“What’s she doing here?” Ariel asked,
stunned to see those who next entered.

Sharr got up from his peacock throne, and
exclaimed. “Kheira!”

Behind the illuminated princess, towered the
massive figure of Fafnir T’Skarin. Now to meet him in person, Sharr
Khan was all but certain that he must be a cyborg. Fafnir’s eyes
glowed bright red, he impassively scanned the room of diplomats.
There were distinct mechanistic noises, micro-servos, which moved
when he turned his hooded, metallic bluish face. His gaze came to
rest upon the Jagirdar Talik Kreis, who returned him a grim,
one-eyed glare.

Is there a connection between Fafnir, and
the naga... ?
Sharr thought.

Turbaned D'Har-Ziral priests surrounded
Kheira. Haughtily, the Vralis waved them aside so that she could
approach her Father, unobstructed. “We come to observe.” Kheira
explained, yet her tone undercut even a pretense of respect. Hands
on hips, her gray mantle thrown back so her divine radiance might
be perceived by all.

“Observe, or influence?” Asked Nadia as she
moved from her place beside Sharr Khan to stare Kheira down.
Beautiful, overflowing with cleavage. The Queen slunk gracefully in
her clingy molten-golden dress, stitched from shimmering scale
armor-fabric, which rolled and shined with every deliberate step of
her womanly figure. Midriff bare, a cerulean jewel glistened in
Nadia's bellybutton. No one could doubt her to be the wife of a
monarch.

“My child,” Sharr warned. “This is not the
place for an incident.” He cleared his throat. “We are on the brink
of peace. Do not interfere.”

“This is a fool’s errand.” Kheira
challenged.

The Queen placed a hand on her mate’s
shoulder, she sensed his upset with his bratty daughter. It would
be unwise for Sharr Khan to allow his anger to overcome him at this
moment. Others could see his wrath as a weakness, or use it for a
bargaining chip in the coming talks. Moreover understood Nadia,
should Sharr Khan strike Kheira, her followers would see it as an
insult, furthering the religious schism between Tarik and
D’Har-Ziral. “Perhaps Kheira you are right?” Pleasantly said Nadia.
“At any rate, we welcome your observations.” She laced her words
with a telepathic suggestion, and hoped to calm the situation.

“Do not try your Valküri tricks on me!”
Thundered back Kheira, her very word carried substance. She shared
a moment of symbiosis between herself and T'Kara. For a brief
instant, Kheira caught an image of the flaming beast that had been
born in Nadia’s lab. Inside she gasped, aware that the creature
must be the dreaded Kranix Shiertar had told her of.
Oh no,
thought the Vralis.
Nadia what have you done?
Though
disturbed by this revelation, Kheira did not reveal it.
Arrogant
bitch!
You've loosed our shadow.
“Queen of the Robots,
I'm far more powerful than you.”

“What?” Gasped Nadia. “What did you call
me?”

Yet Kheira ignored Nadia's rather disturbed
expression. The characterization accurate. Clearly Someone else
called Nadia that before. Let the Queen figure it out for herself.
By which time, the Vralis was most assured, things would be where
they must.

“Kheira, I warn you, insult Nadia at your
own peril.” Sharr cautioned.

“My Vralis,” Fafnir T'Skarin had no wish for
the situation to grow out of control. Not here, or now. This was
not his plan. His baronial artificial voice, almost European in
sound came out as very pleasant compared to that of Bishop Styx’s
grating aluminiferous resonance – Held everyone’s attention. “Let
us do as you say,” he bared his fangs. “Observe what takes place
here. We shall learn and perhaps become teachers.”

Nodding, the Vralis and her party
withdrew.

“An interesting display.” Dmitri Antares
sneered.

“Family business, to be sure.” Natalia
asserted even as she shot a lusty glare at Sharr Khan, who looked
to be put off by his daughter's sudden appearance. “It seems the
religious rift we’ve heard of reaches right up to the Imperial
house itself.”

“Exploitable.” Was all Dmitri said.

“Imperator Julius Romulus Giovanni!” Ch’Kran
at last announced.

An impressive phalanx of Praetorian Guard
preceded the entrance of the Imperator. Marching in a solid
lockstep, the armored guard came to stop before Sharr’s Peacock
Throne. They were decked out in royal blue, and their armor was
trimmed with fine embellishments. The commander of the detachment
held his right hand on a gladius.

“Sharr Khan, of the Falcanian Khanate,”
spoke the phalanx commander, tone as if to say he looked upon the
Shotar as nothing more than an Eastern barbarian, not worthy of his
respect, more deserving of his Imperator's boot than his attendance
at this ill-begotten peace conference. “May I present Imperator
Romulus –“

“That is enough Sejanus!” Romulus commanded,
extended his hand to Sharr Khan.

Recognizing this for the historical moment
that it must be, Sharr saluted the Imperator with the Shakrajak,
the Claw-On-Fist salute, and then he took hold of Romulus’s purple
garbed arm in a manner much like he would have taken Talik’s, thus
elevating the Imperator to that of a brother.

“Please forgive Leontios,” Romulus referred
to his Praetorian commander. “Like many young people raised under
my rule, he is unsure about this summit. Not very long ago we, the
country I now rule – A place you once called home, had been
assaulted in such a manner as you have conducted. History is not
easily forgotten. They are suspicious of this abrupt call for
peace. Lesser men once led the Eagle to the brink of oblivion.”
That bit of history would not be repeated. “All because they lacked
resolve to confront our enemies, as genuine evil.”

“All I've ever desired is a rapprochement
with my nation of birth.” Sharr Khan respectfully said and realized
he felt a connection to this man JR Giovanni. “Today I welcome you
Romulus, to Vanguard Island. Here is my heart and soul.”

A bell echoed over the
Mayura
Khaihir
’s intercom, just as
Mayura Khaihir
began to pull
away from its moorings, headed upward, and outward toward open
space. “This is Commodore Narjihan Talos, welcome aboard. Please
enjoy your stay during our little cruise around the Solar System.”
Firing its VTOL engines, the
Mayura Khaihir
ascended. Once
solid black, the panoramic ballroom windows became translucent in
order to reveal the spectacle of the Solar System. “At starboard,
on approach you will see our escort: The Imperial Falcanian Vessel
Arshira’s Ascension
.” The Destroyer moved in alongside the
Mayura Khaihir
in a pure display of muscle by the Falcanian
Khanate. “Port side you will see
Arshira’s Ascension
sister
ship:
T’Kara’s Tears
,” Commodore Talos continued. “These are
the newest, and best of the Falcanian Armada!” Guests rushed to the
large panoramic windows in order to get a better look at the
battleships which now guarded the yacht. It had the desired
awe-inspiring effect upon most of them.