Hidden Empire (5 page)
He looked back down at the monitors, where the observation platform’s imagers replayed the fuzzy recordings. Unfortunately,
the strange objects had emerged from the opposite side of blazing Oncier. “I would not be surprised if we saw some sort of
deep-core metallic nodules, exotic debris ejected in the turmoil after stellar ignition. I would not be overly concerned,
Ms. Colicos. The performance of your Klikiss Torch has met or exceeded all expectations.”
Margaret frowned. “They looked like ships to me, artificial constructions.”
Now Serizawa’s expression became somewhat condescending. “That would be highly unlikely. After all, what sort of life form
could possibly survive within the high-pressure depths of a gas-giant planet?”
I
n the Palace District, crowds gathered and cheered, vendors hawked souvenirs, and food preparers sold extravagantly priced
treats. A profusion of festival bouquets filled the air with heady perfume, though troops of maintenance workers and gardeners
would be sure to remove the flowers before their color and freshness began to fade.
Raymond Aguerra glided deftly through a forest of elbows and arms. The young man didn’t worry about pickpockets because he
could sense any dipper, outwit him, and dodge away before the guy could make a grab. Besides, his pockets were empty. Raymond
just wanted to see the sights.
He was an intelligent and embarrassingly handsome fourteen-year-old with dark hair, a thin build, and a bright smile. Raymond
had few friends and even fewer advantages, except for the ones he found for himself. A hard life had made him as muscular
as a greyhound, which often surprised people who challenged him, though he preferred to talk fast and turn the tables rather
than get into a brawl.
He ducked and slipped forward so smoothly the front-row spectators didn’t even notice a new wide-eyed person standing among
them. Because every day was a struggle just to provide for himself, his mother, and his brothers, he paid little attention
to politics. But he liked to watch the shows. Overhead, dirigibles, gliders, and balloons carried aloft those who could afford
an expensive bird’s-eye view of the Palace grounds. Gongs were rung, even more deafening than the cheers of the audience.
He watched a flurry of bright court uniforms—royal guards and ministers setting up a speaking stage on the grand balcony of
the Whisper Palace. As a Unison deacon read a familiar invocation and prayer, salutiers unfurled the brilliant banner of the
Terran Hanseatic League, an icon of Earth at the heart of three concentric circles.
Looking no more impressive than the court functionaries except for his too-extravagant robes, an old man stepped ponderously
onto the balcony, as if he had taken the time to rehearse every footstep. When the King raised his hands high, the billowing
sleeves of his lush garment drooped to his elbows. Flashes of sunlight glittered from the rings on his fingers and the cut
flatgems in his crown.
“Today I speak to you of a great victory for human ingenuity and drive.” King Frederick’s amplified words boomed from speakers
all across the plaza. He had the rich baritone voice of a deity, deep and resonating. “In the Oncier system, we have caused
the birth of a new star, which will shine its life-giving warmth and light upon four pristine worlds for the settling of humankind.”
The people cheered again after listening in an awed hush. Raymond smiled at their feigned surprise; everyone already knew
the announced purpose of the gathering.
“The time has come to light four more torches in the Palace District!” As the echoes of his voice faded, the King made an
extravagant gesture, his hand barely visible even to Raymond’s sharp eyesight.
On most of the high points, pillars, and domes, crackling eternal flames already rose to the sky, as they did from the firefly
chains of lampposts on the grounds. Each torch supposedly symbolized a Terran colony world that had signed the Hansa charter
and therefore swore fealty to the Old King.
“I give you these four new moons, which are named after my illustrious predecessors, the first four Great Kings of the Terran
Hanseatic League:
Ben!”
With a boom, a blazing pillar of fire erupted from the point of a soaring tower on the walking bridge that spanned the Royal
Canal. “George! Christopher! And Jack!” As he said each name, a new torch bloomed on the top of an unlit tower on the great
bridge span.
The ice hadn’t even melted yet on the four moons, and the first terraforming teams wouldn’t be landed until the tectonic upheavals
stabilized. Still, Raymond delighted along with the audience, watching the King claim a quartet of new worlds. What a grand
show!
Bands began to play, and mirrorized ribbon chaff twinkled like dandelion fluff through the air, dispersed by drifting zeppelins.
King Frederick announced a day of raucous celebration. The population applauded any excuse for reveling. Maybe that was why
they all loved their King so much.
Frederick hurried back into the quiet comfort of the Whisper Palace, and Raymond noted a bit of concern. The King seemed lonely,
perhaps even unhappy, as if tired of living in front of so many eyes all his life. In a way, Raymond could sympathize with
the monarch, though he himself spent every day completely invisible to the world at large.
He wandered among the stalls and souvenir vendors. On the facades of the Whisper Palace, broad friezes showed historical events:
the launching of the eleven massive generation ships; the first contact with the Ildirans, who offered their stardrive and
their galactic civilization. At specific times every hour, the holographic friezes moved, dramatizing the scenes like a glockenspiel.
Statues around the fountain parks became animated: Stone angels flapped their wings, historical generals rode horses that
reared up on cue.
A flow of pedestrians streamed across the bridge, entering the Palace grounds. Raymond stared at it all, eyes sparkling. He
felt the threat half a second too late.
Someone grabbed him by the back of his neck, viselike fingers squeezing. “So, he’s here to steal things when the crowd’s not
watching, but he runs out on us when we have a more sophisticated job to do.”
Raymond squirmed enough to be able to see the speaker: An older boy with the unfortunate name of Malph scowled, while his
stronger friend Burl clamped the grip even tighter on Raymond’s neck. The fourteen-year-old twisted himself free of Burl’s
hold, but he didn’t run. Not yet. “Sorry, but I didn’t put stealing on my list of things to do.”
“Stealing’s beneath his delicate sensibilities!” Burl said with a snort.
“Nah, it’s too easy,” Raymond retorted. “Working hard for a living—now
that’s
a challenge. You should try it sometime.”
Around them, the oblivious spectators danced, some kissed, many queued up in front of food stands. Malph kept his voice low,
but he could have screamed and few people would have paid attention. “Raymond, Raymond, why don’t you just become a deacon
if you’ve got such morality problems? And why couldn’t you have just said no, rather than turning us in?”
“Crimson rain, I did say no, Malph. Sixteen times, if I remember right. But you wouldn’t listen. Breaking into a man’s business
and stealing his cash stash is not my idea of a career. You do it once, then it becomes easier to do it again.”
“I’m all for making it easier,” Burl said with a bitter laugh. “It took quite some running to get away from the enforcers
after you triggered that alarm.”
“And if you two were as good as you say, the enforcers would never have gotten close.” Raymond wagged his finger at them.
“See, I counted on your skill, Malph, and now you’re telling me it was all an exaggeration.” He drew a deep breath, all of
his muscles tensed, ready to sprint off or stay and fight. “I don’t suppose you’d believe me if I said it was an accident?”
Burl clenched his fists and seemed to swell in physical size. “After we beat the crap out of you, maybe you can tell your
mommy that was an accident, too.”
“Leave my mother out of this.” With tears in her eyes and gushing with worry for her oldest son, Rita Aguerra would make him
feel far worse than any bruises.
Like a shark scenting blood in the water, Malph moved around, ready to grab Raymond, expecting him to run. Instead, Raymond
did the unanticipated. He launched himself toward the larger Burl in a flurry of fists, hard knuckles, and sharp elbows. He
fought without finesse, but he used every hard part of his body, from the tips of his boots to the top of his skull, and soon
he had knocked a disbelieving Burl down to the flagstones. A whirl and a kick caught Malph in the stomach as the other bully
charged toward his intended victim.
Enough to stall them, not hurt them. Enough to get away.
Raymond dissolved into the crowd before Malph and Burl could recover themselves. He had made his point. Either the two would
leave him alone or they’d come back with reinforcements the next time. Sadly, it would probably be the latter.
Chuckling to himself, he sprinted across the bridge, crossing the Royal Canal. He brushed off his drab clothes, relieved to
see that he had sustained not a single rip. His knuckles were skinned and his dark hair tousled, but at least he’d gotten
out of the tussle without a black eye or any other noticeable injuries. Good enough to convince his mother that nothing serious
had happened. She had enough other burdens to bear, and he did not want to add to them.
Raymond was the oldest of four boys and the man of the house, since his father had skipped town and signed aboard a colony
ship when Raymond was eight years old. Esteban Aguerra had filed colony papers and a one-sided divorce decree at the same
time, so that his wife received the paperwork only after the ship had departed. Raymond’s father had gone off to the new colony
world of Ramah, not because it was a particularly attractive place, but because it had been the first site available. Raymond
bade him good riddance.
It was time to go home and help his mother with the meals and put his younger brothers to bed. On his way through the Palace
District, he paused and looked at the lush floral bouquets displayed everywhere. Some had tipped over in the jostle of the
crowd, others would remain standing in their glory for a day or two, until the petals began to wilt. Then they’d all be discarded.
Despite his compunctions against stealing, Raymond’s love for his mother outweighed any qualms about tucking one of the beautiful
bouquets under his arm. He hurried home with the extravagant flowers, beaming with pride at how much his mother would enjoy
them.
The young man did not see the Hansa operatives hired by Basil Wenceslas. They had been watching Raymond Aguerra all day long.
The unobtrusive men took numerous surveillance images of the lone boy and added them to their already detailed files.
T
hough she was a daughter of the rulers of Theroc, Estarra did not know what she was destined to do with her life, even at
the age of twelve.
Her three older siblings had known from youth that they were expected to learn leadership, enter the green priesthood, train
as a commercial ambassador. A fourth child, though, had no set role. So Estarra mostly did as she pleased.
Full of energy, she ran barefoot into the forest, flitting through the undergrowth beneath the canopy of the always-whispering
worldtrees. The ceiling of interlocked palmlike fronds did not so much block sunlight as filter it, dappling the forest floor
in yellows and greens. Leaves and grasses caressed her golden-brown skin, tickling but not scratching. Her large eyes were
always eager to make new discoveries and spot unusual objects.
Estarra had already explored every nearby path, amazed by the world around her. The spunky girl’s actions occasionally earned
her frowns from her older sister Sarein, who was enamored of the world of business, politics, and commerce. Estarra didn’t
want to grow up quite so quickly as her sister, though.
Reynald, her eldest brother, was already twenty-five and well on his way to becoming the next Father of Theroc. Handsome and
patient, Reynald studied politics and leadership; by tradition, he had always known he would become the next spokesman for
the forest world. In preparation for assuming his impending mantle, Reynald had recently departed on an exciting peregrination
to distant and exotic worlds, meeting the major planetary leaders, both human and Ildiran, before his duties chained him to
Theroc.
