The Worker Prince (13 page)

“You are no longer concerned about the scandal this could cause?” Lord Hachim asked from halfway down the aisle on Xalivar’s right.

“There will be talk, of course. But we believe we can contain it,” Xalivar said.

“I hear rumors your nephew abandoned his post at Alpha Base and traveled back to Vertullis,” Lord Niger said. He was seated near Hachim, his skin and hair dark, reflecting his Old Earth African ancestry. “Why would he do that?”

“His sympathy for the workers has driven him to unpredictable behavior,” Xalivar said, adding a touch of sadness to his tone. “It is quite disturbing even to hear him discuss it.”

“Yes, I can imagine it would be,” Lord Obed said from Xalivar’s left. His skin had a light olive hue, common to people of Hispanic backgrounds on Old Earth, and his brown eyes were intense like his son’s. The overseer of the Lord’s Special Police, Obed’s and Xalivar’s families had been rivals since their grandfathers’ days.

You’d love to see me go down, wouldn’t you, Obed? Not today.

Xalivar smiled to himself. The special session was off limits to visitors. No one would witness him setting his plan in motion. He was free to manipulate the Council just as he’d planned.

Xalivar could see the questions in the Lords’ eyes and feel their distrust. They feared betrayal; good! He liked keeping them off balance. It gave him more power. “Given the circumstances, I have no choice but to support the Council in upholding the law. Our sense of justice must prevail.”

“And how will your dear sister react to this?” Lord Tarkanius asked.

“Miri has always been far too weak to govern,” Xalivar said, dismissing her with a sympathetic tone. “She takes these matters personally and doesn’t see the bigger picture.”

“Will she hold her tongue?” Lord Niger asked.

“I will assist her, as required,” Xalivar said.

A couple of Lords frowned with distaste.

“The younger generation is harder to bring into line these days,” Xalivar continued. “Many of you have first-hand knowledge of this from your own offspring.”

Several Lords nodded and groaned.

“Well, with your support we cannot refuse,” Hachim said, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied look.

Others around him began nodding and mumbling agreement.

Tarkanius observed the responses and then sighed, his eyes scanning the room. “All right, let us take a vote then to reissue the arrest warrant,” Tarkanius said. “All in favor, say aye.”

When the votes were tallied, the decision was unanimous. Despite their reservations, none were willing to quarrel with the High Lord Councilor. Some, like Obed, couldn’t resist the chance to do his reputation damage. Others feared his power. None of this bothered him. He had manipulated them as he’d planned, and he would deal with whatever came next.

“Lord Obed, send your Special Police again to locate and arrest the Prince,” Tarkanius said with clear regret.

“I am reinstating the orders as we speak,” Obed said as he typed on the terminal in front of him.

Xalivar suppressed a smile, as a warmth filled his veins. He found it amazing how easy it was.

O O O

Davi sat at Lura’s table again and described his discussions with Xalivar and Miri. “Did you expect them to change their minds simply because you asked?” Lura asked, her brow furrowing at his frustration.

“I guess not,” Davi said. “I expected them to listen at least.”

“Xalivar’s father was on the Council when they voted to enslave us,” Lura said. “His grandfather started the war. And Xalivar himself has always been against us.” For her, Xalivar never evoked a sympathetic figure and it was very odd hearing Davi talk about him as he did.

“I hoped it was different now,” Davi said with growing sadness.

“It’s hard for people to change,” Lura said. “For the Council, the stakes are very high. And hatred for us amongst many Boralians has existed for generations and runs deep.” Many Vertulians also returned that hatred, but she’d never really understood why. To blame individuals for their actions, yes, that she understood, but to blame everyone seemed ridiculous.

“Of course,” Davi said, “But my mother raised me to believe in humanity’s right to self-determination, and even she argued with me about it.” He understood that Miri worried, but he’d still expected more support from her.

“The Lords don’t see workers as human,” Lura said.

Davi turned away and shook his head. He couldn’t bear to look at her when he acknowledged such things. And he desperately wanted to help her. “I can’t accept it,” Davi said.

“None of us have any choice,” Lura said, rubbing his back. “Don’t be sad, my son. None of this is a surprise for me. I’ve lived with it all my life.” The pain had lessened over the years to a degree with acceptance of the way things were, but it flared up in situations like those with Nila, or whenever she thought of Sol, and now watching her son hurt over it, too.

She had prepared another wonderful meal. They ate together in silence, as Davi struggled to come to terms with what had happened. Even the delicious dessert of fresh gixi pie couldn’t overcome his somber mood.

Afterwards, Davi helped Lura clear the table and wash the dishes. “Who’d have ever thought I’d have a Prince drying my dishes?” Lura teased, still amazed that her son had come back to her.

Davi chuckled. “I’ve never done it before. Hope I’m doing it right.” He seemed to be enjoying the experience of feeling normal for once.

“You’re doing just fine,” she said and joined in.

O O O

When they’d finished, Lura took Davi out for a walk. “There’s someone I think you should meet,” she said as they wound their way through the residential corridors and across the park where Davi had used the kiosk.

The fresh air, such as it existed in Iraja, improved Davi’s mood. He had been feeling cooped up of late, being sent off to live in the stuffy base on Plutonis, hiding from the LSP before that, and it felt good to just walk under the open sky again.

On the other side of the park, they entered a residential district with several streets of nothing but apartments, then came to a cul-de-sac with houses which seemed larger than most worker houses he’d seen. Lura stopped at the door of a large blue house, designed in the nouveau deco style so popular a decade before, and pushed the doorbell.

A gray-haired woman wearing a flowery apron wrinkled and stained from years of work answered the door and smiled when she saw Lura. “Lura! Welcome! It’s been months!”

The two women embraced and the woman waved them inside, letting the door shut behind them.

“Calla, I want you to meet my son, Davi,” Lura said.

Emotion exploded off Calla’s face. Her eyes lit up and her smile was blinding. She hugged Lura again and swung her around like they were dancing. “Davi? After all these years?”

Lura nodded as Davi extended his hand. Calla laughed and embraced him with passion. “If you think your Aunt Calla will settle for a handshake after twenty-one years, you are quite mistaken.”

“Is Aron in?” Lura asked as she watched them, amused.

Calla released Davi and motioned with her head toward the corridor. “Of course. He’s in the study.”

“Come.” She led them into the house and down a corridor which seemed endless—not at all what Davi had expected from a worker’s home. Another corridor appeared, almost out of thin air, and they turned right and stopped beside a door, where Calla punched in a code. This was no ordinary worker’s home.

The door opened, admitting them into a large office. A gray-haired man sat behind a desk, reading something on his terminal. He looked up, smiling as he saw both Lura and Calla.

“You’ll never guess who this is,” Calla said, motioning to Davi. Joy radiated like a sun’s rays from her face.

The man stood and moved around his desk. He was short and bulky, with hands that showed signs of years of manual labor. He moved toward them, looking Davi over. “He looks so much like his father.”

As he drew closer, Davi saw a face more youthful than he’d expected from one with such gray hair.

Calla smiled, pleased. “Yes, he does.”

Davi extended his hand as the man chuckled, looking pleased. “Nice to meet you.”

“This is your father’s oldest friend, Aron,” Lura said. Lura had told him about Aron’s help with the courier.

Aron shook Davi’s hand with a grip full of strength, his large hand surrounding Davi’s like a glove. “After all these years to see you again … Sol would be so happy.”

“Aron helped your father prepare the craft in which we sent you away,” Lura reminded him.

Davi nodded. He was overwhelmed again meeting people who seemed to know and care so much about him despite having thought him dead or missing for so many years.

Aron frowned. “Only we made a mistake in preparing it.” His face turned sad as he recalled it.

“He is safe and sound,” Calla said, placing her arm reassuringly around his shoulder.

“We never saw your father again after that day,” Aron said, remaining dour. “Such dark times,” Aron continued, lost in memories. He regained his composure after a moment and motioned toward two couches and chairs arranged in a square. “Please. Sit.”

“Mother told me he disappeared, but does anyone know where?” Davi asked, as he sat in a chair, wondering if he’d ever get the chance to meet his father.

Aron sat in the other chair, while Calla and Lura sat together on a couch. “None of us knows. But when the LSP take people away, they are never heard from again,” Aron said.

“Davi was raised on Legallis, in the Royal Palace,” Lura said, saying it with a mix of magic and fearfulness. Her friends reacted similarly.

“The Royal Palace? I guess our little courier’s malfunction was not so disastrous after all,” Aron said, chuckling.

They all laughed.

“He’s a Captain in the military,” Lura said with pride.

“I recognized his Alliance accent and wondered,” Aron said. “Are you a pilot?”

“Top of his class,” Lura said, smiling at him.

Davi blushed, her unabashed praise reminding him a bit of the Royal groupies he’d avoided as a youth. “I am certified in flight, yes.”

“Davi has been working hard to convince Lord Xalivar to free our people,” Lura said.

“A Borali Alliance officer questioning the High Lord Councilor?” Aron laughed, raising his eyebrows as he looked Davi over again. “How’s that gone?”

“Not as well as I’d hoped,” Davi said, turning away. He’d never felt so useless.

Aron put a gentle hand on Davi’s shoulder. “It’s hard to reverse hundreds of years of oppression, as history has shown,” Aron said. “You are not the first to try.”

“I won’t go back to my assignment until I find a way to make them listen,” Davi said, turning to face them again. “I can’t accept it.” He feared he had no choice. He was running out of options.

“Many in the Alliance won’t appreciate your attitude,” Aron said.

“I know. But I was raised to believe man has a right to be free,” Davi said, knowing he’d had more privileges than any of them.

“Raised to believe this in the Royal Palace right under Xalivar’s nose?” Aron laughed. Calla and Lura joined him. “He must be quite disturbed by that. How did that happen?”

“Davi’s mother is Princess Miri,” Lura said.

Davi nodded. “She hired the best tutors and made sure I read broadly. She wanted me to think for myself.”

Aron smiled. “Well, good for her.” He exchanged looks with Calla and Lura. “Maybe I should take you with me to meet some friends of ours.”

Lura nodded in agreement.

“You might like to hear their thoughts on the worker situation. And they yours.”

“Anything I can do to help,” Davi said, smiling.

Aron patted him on the arm, smiling back. “Your father would be proud to hear you talk this way.”

O O O

Xalivar waited with Zylo for Bordox to arrive. After the Council meeting he had summoned them, wanting men he could trust to lead the search for his fugitive nephew. Neither man had been told why he’d been called to the Palace, so Xalivar could evaluate them, in addition to their military records, by how they responded to the assignment.

The Council meeting couldn’t have gone smoother, and Xalivar was feeling relieved and excited that his new plan was coming together so well.

The door slid open and Manaen entered, followed by Bordox, who seemed overwhelmed. He’d never been in the throne room before. He took it all in, and then turned back toward Xalivar, as if afraid to turn away.

Might as well enjoy this
, Xalivar thought, making his way back to the throne as the door slid closed behind Bordox. He sat down. He always looked more imposing sitting there. “Lieutenant Bordox, welcome to the Royal Palace.” Tall like his father, Lord Obed, Bordox towered over both Zylo and Manaen.

He’d tower over me, too, if I wasn’t on this dais.
Xalivar could see why Bordox inspired fear in some.
And yet you don’t fear Davi, do you?
His nephew didn’t seem the type to inspire much fear.

“Thank you, Lord,” Bordox said with a slight bow as his index and middle and fourth and fifth fingers crossed in the salute. His gray uniform was pressed and neat, like he’d wanted to make the best impression.

“I have been admiring your work on behalf of the Alliance. A very impressive record,” Xalivar said.

“It’s an honor to serve, my Lord,” Bordox said, his legs wobbling a bit from nerves as he stood at attention.

I see none of the cockiness I’d heard about. At least he knows how to show proper respect.
Xalivar reminded himself this was the same cadet who had been Davi’s rival at the Academy. Not to forget that he’d surely been raised knowing the history of the old rivalry between their families. “This is Major Isak Zylo,” Xalivar said.

Zylo nodded to Bordox. “Pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant.”

“You, too, sir,” Bordox replied, continuing to wobble.

I just complimented your record. You’d think you’d relax.
“I’ve called you both here for a special assignment. The Council has announced murder charges against Captain Xander Rhii, my nephew.”

Bordox didn’t react, but Zylo’s face showed surprise. “Captain Rhii, sir? I served with him on Vertullis.”