Can a lost boy find romance on a backward low tech world? If he comes from a martial background he can!
Once Race got the Tercell to quit running and screaming in fear, he was able to lean forward enough to regain a grip on the reins. Looking to the rear Race was able to see that the acid spitting flat had not missed entirely. His mounts tail had a few blackened sizzling holes in the skin. “Damn this place! And Damn the shipboard mutiny that had marooned him on this Bein-forsaken planet. Damn himself for thinking that a single human, even one from a heavy-G world could function as a soldier among a bunch of primitive semi-civilized humanoids.”
Race Calhan from Pearly White, black sheep and general loner to his family, given the choice of the Imperial Marines or exile to Terra’s Terra-forming Corps. Chose the lesser of two evils and chose the Marines. His luck running as always bad, onboard the only Imperial recruit transport to EVER be hijacked by mutineers, was set down on an undiscovered outback planet. He alone refused to join in the mutiny so he was set down on the nearest class 4 planet. Class 4 meant no regular space port, “tramp” traders only as off world communication source and one of the mutineers knew enough to place him on the other side of the planet from where they usually stopped. He was given a standard survival kit and allowed to keep his pack once they had gone through it to make sure there were no communicators in it and they kept the guns. He was allowed to keep his knives.
In one way the hijackers were incredibly soft hearted in that they did not kill him. On the other hand they left him on a class 4 planet. Either way if the Empire (more like when) the Empire catches up to them they would be better off committing suicide. That would be a mandatory sentence to Terra’s Terra-forming Corps. Which is to say, work until you die, over and over and over again. Race had heard of some of those poor guys who had been resurrected a hundred times, only to be worked to death again..
On the other hand, the marines promised “Travel to exotic places. Meet exotic people,, and kill them.” Even this had to be better than working tech. Tech was a four letter word to Race. The Tercell was getting fidgety again, Race needed to get some control over Race part of the Race, Tercell partnership. The Tercell was slightly empathic and its rider needed to be calm.
Race could just imagine what kind of picture they made. Race standing at an even six feet tall and weighing a mere 460 pounds was as one of his ex-girlfriends had said was short and very wide. Even a “lazy lay about “ as his dear father called him, on a 3 G world developed impressive muscles or died young. The class 4 world ran .98% Earth norm so Race had a tendency to bounce when walking. The nannite package was handling the low atmosphere although he would have to be careful about extensive exertion. At least his universal translation program was still working or it could have been very much worse. He could have had many, many sharp pointy objects stuck in his person instead of managing to talk his way into service as a courier for the local king. Then again the local wild life was wild. From the little bit Race remembered from his xeno-biology (not much) this place was really strange. As close as he could determine, there were no herbivores on this planet. The entire ecosphere was composed of carnivores. And some of them were merely nasty. Take the Tercell; it most closely resembled a cross between a rhino and a T-rex with a bright orange skin that had both stripes and spots of different shades of brown. Race kept thinking that just looking at it was enough to keep him from drinking too much. Never mind the thing had a disposition of a teased rattlesnake. Being anywhere close to a Tercell while drunk was grounds for a short memorial service. (Funerals usually required a body, instead of lizard shit.) Also the most common physiology tended toward five legs except for the humanoid “intelligent” life form.
Well back to business, Race had to get through that pass. Acid spitting flats or no. The flats were another oddity. No legs, just eyes, mouth, a big flat body and the spitter. The spitter sat on the thicker edge and swiveled at least one hundred and eighty degrees side to side. The flat had eyes all the way around the circumference of its body. And what a circumference, the thing had to be twenty meters across and probably half a meter thick. And yes it was big enough to eat both him and the Tercell. Race slowly brought the Tercell in a circle and went back toward the pass.
What with two big powerful legs in the back and three agile legs in the front the Tercell still made him want to laugh thinking about it. While they were walking slowly toward the last place he had seen the flat. Race went back to worrying his little bad thought. What if this was the start of the infamous Imperial Marine training program. No one was ever allowed to discuss the Marines training program. The publicized story was that everyone connected to the program was mind blocked with a suicide protocol in place. So that you could not even torture the information out of anyone who knew. What if this was a set up. Dumped on a strange planet and watched. See how well the boot does. Sounds just like something his father would do. His Imperial Marine Colonel father.. Damn his eyes..
Pearly White was the home of a good fifty percent of the Imperial Marines. This massive world was first populated by retiring marines a good three centuries ago. Its population now reached close to three billion and most of the citizens had at least one tour of duty in the marines before they married. In fact finding a date without proof of service once you were eighteen years old was very hard. Races nicest turn down recently upon asking a pretty girl for a date, was her calling him a shoe licking coward and slamming a portal closed in his face.
Reading the writing on the wall, Race went down to the port and tried to immigrate off world. One of the clerks spat upon him calling him much worse than coward. Now Race might not have wanted to be a marine, but the clerk showed extremely bad judgment in whom he chose to spit on. Race was five times runner up for mixed martial artist champion world wide. His father believed that if Race had just worked a bit harder he could have had first. Race knew he could have had first anyway, if he had wanted it. Which he didn’t. He did not want it, because his father did. He threw the finals all five years.
The judge gave him the standard choice for attempted murder, Terra Corp or the marines. If the twerp clerk had not had the marine enhanced nanites he would have died instead of just being in the hospital for an unheard of six weeks while the meds rebuilt his body. Race let a lot of frustration out on the clerk. The Marine intake officer had trouble believing an un-enhanced human could cause that much damage to a marine, even one who was a supply clerk in service.
Reading from a screen he said un-believingly, “Ruptured heart, liver, spleen, both kidneys and lungs. Broke both elbows, both knees and twelve ribs. Shattered skull and knocked out eight teeth and shattered the rest. Took six regular marine security guards to pull you off, normally it takes one”. Looking over at Race in his strait-jacket, manacles and hobbles with two marines pointing full powered stunners at him.
“I think we will just keep you secured until we put you on the shuttle. “
Race just shrugged, “You are safe enough as long as you don’t spit on me.”
The intake officer said, “You make it sound like even chained you think you could take me.”
Race just shrugged again, “Sir, I don’t think I could, I know I could. But I also know you are not the type to spit on someone who cannot retaliate so the point is moot. Is it permissible that I sit?”
The officer shrugged his self with a little smile, “Sure, go ahead.”
Despite the jacket and the chains, Race knelt and rolling back on his heels, parked his butt on the floor, rolled his arms forward and was then sitting on the floor with his hands now in front of him, jacket and manacles somehow coming loose during the process. He folded the jacket on the floor next to him and placed the still closed manacles on top.
“I do not suppose you would care to explain how you did that.” The officer appeared to be amused instead of worried.
“One of my hobbies is “Magic”, escape and such.” Race stretched and rotated his shoulders, sighing in relief. “Man it is awkward working at that angle.” He was saved from further explanation by the soft ding of an arriving shuttle. He stood, slowly as to not startle the guards into shooting him. Stepping out of the now unlocked hobbles he moved toward the door. The officer laughing dismissed the guards and said. “I cannot wait until you get back. I would love to contact you after your first tour.” He recited his call number and continued, “I think you might do quite well as a marine.”
Race snapped out of the memories when he saw the ground ahead ripple. He immediately pulled back on the reins. Tercell immediately stopped and moved his heavily clawed feet restlessly. Race looked over the area around the pass carefully. Tercell’s did not usually do well climbing but rather than ride back to the king and confess failure Race would bloody well carry the silly thing over the mountains. The pass appeared to have three of the acid spitting flats moving around in it. Race rather thought it served as a funnel to heard game to the flats and shaded them as well. They were not fond of heat of the day. Which come to think of it, might be an idea, while the spitter was fast the flat moved rather slower than a man walked. Race wondered if anyone had ever thrown lighted torches at the flat...
The information he had gotten from the previous courier was sketchy at best. But he had covered the flats four separate times. His Tercell had panicked and broken his neck trying to run away from one. The courier had walked back to King Urick and was currently recovering. But the dispatches needed to go through NOW. So the courier had help talk the King into hiring the stranger. It had literally cost him the coat off of his back in bribes to the courier. His coat was made of near-leather. Looked like leather, felt like leather but was bullet proof and laser resistant. The kings’ guard that had attempted to cut his arm off could not believe the sword had done no damage at all. Races foot in his mouth did much more damage. And it would have been worse if Race had not been careful to not kill him.
Flats, he needed to concentrate on the flats. Looking around Race saw several shrubs that looked like they would burn well. He turned the Tercell and went back a couple hundred meters and located a large rock that he could tie the animal to, safely. Then bounding along he located a shrub that looked good and dry. Pulling the utility knife from his belt he cut it into a meter long torch-to-be. He stood it in the loose sand and used the lighter in the butt of the knife to light it. Four seconds later he stood looking at a pile of ash and smelled the unmistakable stench of burnt hair. Using his hand he felt of his face and realized he no longer had eyebrows. Burn was not the word that stuff exploded.
Race checked several other shrubs, making sure to cut much smaller pieces to test. One would not burn at all, three more exhibited the flash fire effect. Two burned but not well. Three burned with a steady hot flame and seemed to burn for quite a long time. Next he needed a way to throw them without getting too close to the flats. Time to check out the (carnivorous) vegetation again. After a frustrating search the shrub that would not burn at all yielded a stringy sinew that was very tough. Race fashioned a sling and from the leaves a pouch. Returning to the Tercell, Race fed the animal, prepared food for himself and set up camp. After eating, Race started practicing with the sling. It took a bit but he got to the point that the rock usually went where he aimed it. Tying the bit of shrub to the rock nearly caused him to rethink his strategy. The rock and shrub combo proved to be impossible to throw from the sling. Remembering its fire-proof qualities Race tried throwing just the lit shrub piece. That worked and spinning the sling caused the shrub bit to burn really hot.
After sleeping and feeding the Tercell again. Race practiced for a bit to loosen up his arm and make sure he could still hit his target. Then he gathered fifty of his shrub bits and trotted back toward the pass. The last fifty meters he moved carefully watching for flats on the prowl. The flats were still where he last saw them the day before.
First Race threw a rock at the nearest flat just to see what the flat did. When the rock hit, the flat moved around in a small circle and rippled quite a bit. The spitter swiveled back and forth as if seeking a target. Race hid behind a large rock, started his fire and loaded his first shrub bit. Stepping out from behind the rock he quickly spun up his sling and nailed the flat the first shot. That was the last thing that went according to plan.
The burning bit landed in the middle of the flat. It must have hurt because the spitter nailed it with a burst of acid. Highly combustible acid. This hurt lots judging from the reaction of the flat. It bucked and rippled and flopped around like a fish out of water, and the spitter gamely continued to try to kill what ever was causing the pain. Then the fire reached the acid sacs and glands. Some unknown sixth sense caused Race to duck behind the big rock just in time. The flat exploded in a raging climatic burst of pure fire,, it was really too bad that the other flats were so close. It was over two hours before the ground was cool enough for the Tercell to walk through the now very clear and clean pass. There wasn’t even a shrub left and most of the sand was fused into a glass like rock that crackled and broke under the Tercell’s clawed feet.
The old courier, whose name was incomprehensible even for the translator, Race just called him “the old courier”. The old courier had said that on the far side of this pass was where the “evil, green, person eating savages” lived. He had also said take bribes with you and sold the bribes to Race and what Race was sure was an overly inflated price. The bribes were some kind of local lizard that had been first smoked then candied. Race was carrying twenty of them which was two more than he should need, there being supposedly about eighteen of the savages. Race couldn’t wait.
When Race approached the end of the pass he tightened up a bit which made the Tercell get fidgety. Sure enough several Skint riders appeared at the end of the pass, elaborately casual about it all until they got a good look at Race. Then they perked up, new prey instead of old prey. This could be fun. The old courier said he had had to kill one of them the first trip as had the courier before him. But according to the old, old courier, that king had lost four couriers between his predecessor and himself. So Race felt safe in knowing that there was a fight coming and that he would not have to hold back for a change. He really felt like killing something or even someone.
The Skints were both lighter and quicker than Tercells, on the other hand they were just riding beasts, not like the Tercells who were the equivalent of war mounts. Who ever was in front of a Tercell in a fight, got bit, be it friend or foe. The Skint riders circled Race and his Tercell, jostling for position and chatting away at each other on the best way to prepare the stranger for the pot. They were a wild and savage sight. Each rider carried a long spear/lance, several shorter throwing spears and throwing sticks. Race knew about boomerangs and these were not the same, but had the same look. Race produced one candied, smoked lizard and said, “If you want the candy, you will not make me kill you. Dead Skint riders eat no lizards.”
Bally-hoo, the leader of the Skint riders made a cawing noise and said, “It speaks, supper speaks. San-froo stick your spear into this things back so we can eat it.”
San-froo, who was behind Race started forward to obey his chief, only to stop in amazement as his chief fell off of his Skint. When Bally-hoo landed on the ground the other Skint riders could see the long knife sticking entirely through his head, exactly between his eyes.
“Dead Skint riders eat no lizards”, Race repeated. “You can have lizards for passage through your country or you can have knives for passage into hell.” He then activated the retriever and the knife flew back into his hand to disappear back into his shirt.
The overawed Skint riders decided on the spot the “Magic Man” could come and go as he pleased, but they did take the lizards. After Race had gone on his way a couple of the riders passed back down the pass to see if the flats needed feeding. When they returned with the news of the flats demise the Skint riders decided that they had had a close call and perhaps it was time to return to the rest of the tribe for some TLC. More or less content with the passing of Bally-hoo and with their lizards to munch on the Skint riders moved over to the trail up over the bluffs and rode away.
Race, taking quick peeks over his shoulder sighed in relief, he had been a little nervous about that encounter. Next according to the old courier was the patrols of the Rafter people, the people the dispatches we for. All he had to do was convince the patrols he met that he was the Kings courier. He had the badge, but as the old courier had said, “You do not look like Mountain Mauk, you look like stranger.” From what Race had been able to determine, the empire version of humans were not completely unknown on this world but were mostly known for the tramp traders who plied the area looking for deals. Several had gotten killed and eaten and the locals called them “strangers” and the strangers were not known as being terribly dangerous prey. Race had been quite a surprise to the people of the little kingdom of Platz.
The mutineers had dropped him off a couple hundred feet above the capitol city with a floater. The little floater, designed for the normal imperial citizen was strained badly with Races much heaver frame. It actually quit about a meter before it should have and Race fell the last meter to the ground. The locals had a short argument about who was going to kill the stranger. The largest scarred up warrior who Race later learned was named Horff won. Horff whipped out his sword and swung at Races arm. Caught somewhat by surprise, the translator took a little too long to adapt to what the locals were jabbering about, Race took the blow on his left bicep. His near leather jacket stopped the effect of the edged weapon. Race proceeded to kill Horff and four other locals who were too slow to leave the area. He then took all of their weapons and everything in their pouches that looked like money. Looking around he picked out the bravest of the locals that stayed in sight and motioned him over. This turned out to be the Kings courier who was trying to recover from a very long trek through some of the most inhospitable country around.
“Ok, now why was I attacked?” Race was about the same height as the courier but way wider. He was also spotted in blood. The courier was a brave man and had been in his share of fights but this guy looked scary. Also the worst man to cross in the past year had been Horff. Big strong fast and nasty, over thirty men had died in duels or simple fights with him and this stranger had grabbed Horff’s sword, yanked him close enough to grab his head and rotated it ninety degrees and then had used the body of Horff to kill the man closest to him, his brother Horzz. He did this by slamming the big man into his brother Horzz so hard that he had heard both spines snap. At the same time Race had used Horff’s sword to kill two men on the other side of him by what looked to the courier like a simple flick of the wrist. Except the wrist flick with the sword in it had shattered two skulls. That is when everyone left standing beat a hasty retreat.
“You looked like the strangers who we been eating for the past couple of years.”
“Let me get this straight. You EAT strangers?” Race was only mildly shocked, this was after all a class four planet-i.e. wild and uncivilized, but still. “So you can be my friendly neighborhood guide and help me become acquainted with folks around here, right?”
“Why would I do ‘eep’?” His question being interrupted by Race folding Horff’s sword over and then over again and grabbing the couriers hand placing the hot metal into the couriers hand.
“Because you do not want to make me mad.. “, Race had a fine line in intimidation when he wanted to use it. (Copied from dear old dad, damn his eyes.) The courier had a sudden change of heart and decided he was born to help the stranger learn the ways of the people.
“You are one street away from king square. The king square is where we celebrate the choosing of the king. “
“Wait. You choose your kings? How does that work?” Race was intrigued.
“All of the clans choose, usually by combat, their greatest warrior. All of the warriors are divided into five teams. The five teams compete one against the other in the arena. The team that wins, all compete against each other in the kings square. The last survivor is pronounced king and makes all the kingly decisions for the next year. Then he retires to King road for a period of five years, after that he is returned to his clan never again to compete in the kings trials.”
“What would be considered a kingly decision?” Race had to wonder about people who chose their leaders.
“Why, who to go to war with, when. When to negotiate with whom. All matters pertaining to war. Those are kingly decisions.” The courier looked somehow pleased.
“How about taxes, laws those kinds of decisions? Who makes those?” Race was vaguely amused by the courier’s manner.
“I do not understand taxes, laws are the peoples choice, if say riding through a neighborhood is causing too much property damage, the neighborhood starts killing all mounts and riders coming through it’s neighborhood, after a few deaths, people quit riding in that neighborhood.”
“Then who issues money?” Race held up the paper like stuff he had taken from the dead people.
“Those are given by the Merchant Clans.” The courier plucked one of the thin sheets from Race and pointed to one line on the heavily written on sheet.
“This is seven qleebs, or the work that one person can do in one day from sunrise to sunset.” He carefully replaced the sheet into Race’s hand. “You should take the dead warriors left ear ring and carry them visibly on your person, a neck string is good. You would have fewer challengers that way. Of course those you get would be the better warriors. Horff’s earring is especially well known.”
Race went back and looked at the earrings, sure enough the roughly cut bloodstone earring was an outstanding jewel. It was also about the size of his thumb. Race yanked the earrings out of the ears and strung them on a string he found on one of the guys weapon harnesses. Dropping the string around his neck he saw a line forming down the street with lots of yelling and pushing. Swords flashed and a couple guys fell down dead. Race walked back over to the courier and said,
“I just challenged them didn’t I?”
“Of course, you should only have to kill one or two before the rest decide to wait until the omens are better.” The courier had a quiver at the corner of his mouth like he was trying to smile or trying not to.
“Are there any particular rules to these little duels?”
“Try not to die. You are very interesting to talk to, for a stranger.” Part of the smile showed through.
It immediately went away. Race was not in a charitable mood. He flipped up one of the dead warriors sword and with all his power threw it at the line. Race had been trained at throwing knives and swords and axes and throwing stars and rocks from birth. While the steel of the sword was to him of inferior quality it was of sufficient weight and sharpness to only stop in it’s path after it had passed through the sixth warrior in line and then only because it struck another sword and shattered. The first six fell down dead, the seventh looked at the badly bent sword in his hand and turned and left, at a run. This was made easy by the fact that everyone behind him had already left the scene.
Race walked down and pulled the earrings and added them to his string then sorted through the money. Then going through and collecting all the weapons, he carefully examined all of the swords finally picking out the longest and heaviest one to sling over his shoulder. He then walked back and collected all of the other loot and looking at the courier asked, “Where can I trade or sell this stuff?”
The old courier sighed and motioned Race to follow him. He walked a goodly distance toward the edge of the city and came to a large open area with many booths each with weapons piled high and with an anvil, fire and hammerer behind it.
Race wandered around with his armload of weapons looking at the displays. Pretty well looking at junk, junk and more junk. He understood that the level of technology had something to do with the quality of weapons but he also understood craftsmanship and most of these “weapon smiths” did not have any. After going through most of the booths he found what he was looking for. A heavily muscled native with very few weapons on display. But Race could tell by looking that they were much better in quality. He stacked up his loot and asked, “Do you do custom work?” The native looked at the pile of weapons, at the earrings on the string around his neck and said,
“Yeeessss, I do custom work, if it interests me.” Race piled up the looted swords and asked,
“Do you take trade-ins?”
“Yes the raw material is always useful.”
“Good. This is what I want.” Race took one of the swords and drew an outline on the ground pointing out interesting features and weighing out enough swords to give the craftsman a rough idea of what he was after. Then he moved on to the second item with the same descriptions. Then they started haggling over price. After giving the guy most of the money he had gotten off of the dead guys and getting a guesstimate of the time involved Race was content to wait. Now for something to eat.
“Are there places that serve food other than stranger meat?” Race asked the courier who was still following him around.
“Oh, yes. Please to follow. What is that thing you are asking Tiboll to make?”
“One is a family preferred weapon, called an axe; and the other one is called a bastard sword. My family has used them and trained in them for many generations.”
The courier again walked for some way to another open area with booths. Each of these booths held food and their was quite the crowd walking around, but after a glance at the string of earrings they were given wide berth and again walking up and down the booth Race came across one that smelled very good. Most had smelled editable, but this, this smelled very good. Looking at the concoction Race asked the courier, “What is this called?”
“Smoogh”
“Smoogh?”
“Smoogh!”
“What is Smoogh made of?” Race asked the heavily wrapped person behind the booth. He had begun to suspect those persons who were heavily wrapped in layers of clothing were female. The warriors all went around with only vests and those baggy leggings or shorts. And scars, lots and lots of scars. Race was mildly worried about the scars, if scarring was prerequisite to any kind of citizenship he was in a world of hurt. As an empire citizen he had received the basic nanite package when he graduated from basic education level one. At age seven. One of the problems with being overly bright in some areas was that some people, “damn his eyes” expected you to be bright in areas of their interest, which was not always the same area as your talents. Races father, Colonel Ian Calhan, Imperial Marines and recipient of no less than three Imperial Stars for Valor and Heroism in Combat could not grasp that his youngest son had little to no interest in Tactics, Logistics, Strategy and Command structure. (Actually Race had gotten all of that information the first time through. What he was not interested in was hearing it over and over. Very bright children with eidetic memories tend to be that way.) By the time that Martha his mother (Senior Tactician and Professor of Logistic Studies at Pearly White Institute for Advanced Studies) could persuade her husband that perhaps they should find out exactly where their youngest talents were, Race had quit being interested in their interest. He had become very adept at hiding what he was interested in and in concealing his talents. He was however a citizen of Pearly White and thus expected to learn some combat skills. He showed early promise in hand to hand combat and in the use of the family weapons of axe and sword. But his father could see that he was holding back and it infuriated him. Race would not cooperate though. In mixed martial arts he went world and again held back, throwing the finial bout every time, coming in second. Again infuriating his father, disappointing his mother and embarrassing his brothers. His brothers had learned early not to try and discipline him however. They might be older but none of them had ever done better than district champions. Race could easily whip all three, which he proved the two or three times they tried him. One would think that with such drama and disappointment that Race grew up in a cold home, this would not be at all true . While he and his parents and yes his brothers had major differences of opinions on almost everything, his parents tried very hard to understand him, and failing that loved all of their children deeply. This fact was made obvious to each of the children; Race never doubted his parents love and affection. And what is more in most ways loved, honored and respected them. As long as it did not touch on his “hidden interests” Race was a model son.
Now thinking of them made him a bit misty eyed.
***
“Smoogh is made of Tercell heart and liver.” The vendor was eying him a bit oddly.
Race snapped back to full situational awareness. And not a second too soon, the knife that was headed toward his neck from the side was intended to miss his jacket. Bypassing his “armor” was the next logical step. Too bad the attacker had not taken his reflexes or strength into account. Race snapped his hand up and grabbed the hand holding the knife and stopped the thrust in the middle of the swing. Then he crushed the hand. With out turning his head or appearing to take further note of the attacker, he crushed every bone in the hand and released the hand. Ignoring the screams he paid for the smoogh and tasted it. Not too bad, better than his brother’s chili. Spicy too, he liked that. Standing in front of the booth he ate all that serving, then thinking about it, paid for six more and ate those. Then paid for one more and offered it to the courier who took it and ate it with relish.
(Insert cadre training team)
“Sergeant Haste reporting as ordered sir.” The blocky build of the training sergeant blocked some of the sun pouring through the open portal.
The Lieutenant who had been soaking up the sun said, “Move over outta the sun, Hasty. I feel like a mushroom.”
“Yes sir.” The sergeant crisply turned and took a step out of the sun his boss was trying to soak up.
“Want to tell me why you are being so formal Hasty?” The Lt. asked quietly.
“There is an Officer present sir.” He had to be referring to the Major in Imperial Battle Dress Black standing to the left of the Lt. The Major took this opportune moment to speak up.
“Hasty, relax and have a beer.” The Major handed the sergeant a frosty glass of pale amber liquid and smiled. The sergeant took the glass with real fear in his heart. Major (Black Heart) Blackson smiled. Usually this meant someone was in bad trouble and he was giving a lowly sergeant a drink with his own hand. Hasty hoped his insurance was up to date.
“Let me give you a little background here Hasty.” The Majors smile went up a couple of notches; he knew very well what the sergeant was thinking. “You are next in rotation for recruit training and observation on class four planets. The trader’s guild has been complaining for some time about Jaceric three and we had decided to send our next recruit there anyway. The natives keep eating the traders and we can’t have that, now can we? Then an old buddy of ours sends me notice that his youngest son was given the judges choice and choose the marines. Now I did know from previous communication that the boy had been giving his parents fits, but that is what boys do, eh? So I thought nothing of it until his entrance scores popped up on my screen and guess what? The boy scored higher than anyone else ever has, and I mean anyone. Then Imperial Spec Force Prime calls me direct, at home, at two in the morning and tells me to put my best team on the orbs-watch and naturally I thought of your team. I am not going too fast for you am I Hasty?”
“No sir!” Beer or no beer, the sergeant was drinking at attention and sweating too.
“Now that should be enough, but then you are thinking that I would hardly show up here at Training for that, right?”
“Yes sir!” He started praying inside as well. Not that it would help, he had angered some god somewhere he knew.
“You would be correct, Sergeant Haste. I would not, except for the other little thing. I know you do little more than track the Imperial Family for possible assignment changes, but you are I believe aware that Princess Alex has a grand-niece who went into Anthropology. Forbidden by her mother to go poking around on primitive worlds without full guards, she eluded her guard and took a trader to Jaceric three and the trader got himself eaten by the natives. She is still alive on Jaceric three we are getting transponder replies and she is healthy, and unafraid; most of the time anyway. I imagine seeing her trader buddy eaten took some of the rebellion out of her, but you know the restrictions on us just plopping a couple squads down there and pulling her out.”
“Yes sir.” There was no question now; some god was pissed at him. If a royal died on his watch …. At the very least his career would be over, possibly his life.
“The good news is that she is in the same general area that your recruit is. We are hoping he rescues her; or her him. Getting those two together might cause more trouble than one alone could get into.”
“I gather our recruit survived the drop then sir?” This was a good sign, they lost over half of the recruits who qualified for the class four drop.
“Oh, you could say that.” The major had that look in his eye again, someone was going to get hurt, but at least the major was not mad at him.
“How is he doing, sir?”
“What is the second best job on three, sergeant? Not counting King.”
“Probably courier, sir, you would not be restricted to the towns and the people honor you as much as they honor anyone. Is our recruit looking to become a courier, sir?” This would be a promising recruit indeed if true . It took a very tough person to become a courier in the first place. One had to kill something like ten or twenty of the king’s warriors to even get a hearing.
“No sergeant,” Hasty’s hope fell a bit. “Our recruit IS a courier, after three days on planet the king made him a courier and sent him on route to the Rafter people where our dear little Anthropologist is currently hiding out.”
To say Hasty was surprised would be something of an understatement. He worried the thing a bit in his head, the major not interrupting, and finally asking, “Permission to speak sir?”
The major looked sternly at him and said, “Knock off the book crap Hasty and talk like a real person.”
“Yes sir, sorry sir. Right away sir. Who the hell is this kid sir?” Hasty was almost afraid to ask but had to know.
“What stands out in your mind about last year’s tournament on Pearly?”
“I still say that kid threw that last bout… you are kidding me sir?” his voice went up a register; he stopped, coughed and tried again. “This is Cap’s boy? The one they call Race? Hasty had been Fleet Champion Mixed martial arts division for the past twenty years. He also held Pearly Whites world trophy from this last year. He had fought Race in the tournament in the capitol in front of his former trainer and old friend, Colonel Ian Calhan. Ian had been Hasty’s hand to hand instructor in the academy about sixty years before.
“Sir I swear that kid threw the match, he was goofing off when he threw me the first fall. I could not match his speed at all. He deliberately let me win the last two falls.”
“Oh, I believe you Hasty, I always did. So does Ian. Would you care to hear the body count so far? Now this is three days after landfall, Hasty. One hundred and seventy five of the best Mountain Mauk warriors and thirty of them were in contention for king. And get this, he killed them all with primitive weapons because the Mutineers got scared and kept his hand gun.” This told Hasty who the Major was mad at.
“That is an impressive record sir.” Hasty was puzzled, the kid he had fought had been … not lazy.. just- not driven. “It almost sounds like he is letting something go. Is he letting out some anger or something?”
“I agree, as does Ian. There was something that happened when Race was very young, his parents do not know what exactly happened, but Ian says Race has been in hiding for a long time. He appears to have decided to let go. He could be the next king.”
“I wonder how he will react when he finds out this is a test and a training program.” Hasty was the one who had to tell the recruits what was going on, sometimes the trainees reacted badly.
“Ian thinks he already knows or at least suspects.” Black Heart was ruefully smiling. This kid is way too smart. Ian says he never acts like he is acting down there. “
“Wait a minute. Ian is watching this? Does Train Prime know about this?”
“Hasty, Hasty, Hasty, you have not been paying attention. Let me break some of this down a little finer. Who runs Train Prime?” Black Heart had his teacher’s cap on again. Hasty hated that. It usually meant he had missed something simple.
“You do sir.”
“And who do I report to?” Black Heart was positively grinning now.
“Imperial Spec Force Prime, sir.” Hasty was trying to keep up, but was floundering.
“And who runs Imp Spec?” Black Heart was having no mercy.
“Duke John, sir.” Hasty still did not get it.
“And who is the Duke’s sister?” Black Heart asked mildly.
“Princess Alex… oh no.. not the Dukes grand daughter, please Bien, not Little Ella.” Hasty was very sincere in his fear. Little Ella, as she was known to the Marines, had been a favorite for most of her young life, until she had gone off to study at Astar College of Science. She had dropped out of the circuit of Marine celebrations, award ceremonies and parties. She was probably the most loved of the royals by the marines. Genuine emotion filled the marine’s eyes.
“Who else among the royals has the skill and know how to slip marine guard?” Black Heart was as anguished as the Sergeant and the Lieutenant. “Guess who called me right after the Duke did. Emperor Shawn was not pleased that one of his ‘kids’ had that skill and he wants to know personally who taught her. When he was told one of his Spook squads had he chuckled and said Ella had been getting her own way for so long he was not real surprised but wanted the squad in question lectured firmly. He also recommended a talking to on consequences of decisions and acts of love. So do you understand Sergeant that this is your dressing down?”
“Yes sir.” Not quite so crisp, but still very respectful.
“Good, now” Yelling now, “You can give me mine! I remember telling you that I thought it sounded like a good idea. Bien help me, a good idea..” Black Heart was flushed with strong emotion.
After a bit everyone calmed down and they started to plan. The restrictions stayed in place, but with a recruit on the ground they had some slack. They would watch and see.
****
Race stopped and scratched his head.. So that was what was going on, well he would continue to perform, maybe someone would make a slip, or not. If he was going to be truthful with himself, and when had he not, he was having fun. Not having to hide was making him giddy. He waited, sitting in the shade of one of the bigger trees. It had tried to nip him but the biting bulb lay on the ground some ten feet away and the tree had decided to let this prey go. Around the bend of the valley came a squad of ten warriors. Right on time, thought Race. He had seen the movement on the wall across the valley ten minutes ago. A couple minutes to yell down, a squad at the ready, couple of minutes to clear the gate.. Ten minutes is pretty good considering the level of disorganization that he had seen so far.
When the squad realized that the rider with the couriers badge was waiting under the shade of a Snapper Tree they stopped and had a bit of a discussion and then came on. Stopping thirty or so feet back the leader or spokesperson said, “Who are you who come to the valley of the people of the Raft?”
Standard challenge, this was good, mayhap he would not have to kill them after all. But then again, the outriders were starting to move around in a encircling move.
“I am Race, Courier for King Urick to the king of the Raft. I bring dispatch to Raft, king of Raft.” At least their custom of renaming the king after the kingdom made it easy to remember the king’s name.
“Ha!” the speaker was determined to be the first to die it looked like. “Even King Urick would not have a stranger for a courier. You lie, and now you die.” With that pronouncement all the squad charged. Of those who reached the shade, six died from the tree. The speaker actually got close enough for Race to grab his spear, yank him in close and crush his skull with his fist. The four out riders found that Race could throw a rock completely through their chests. He dropped the speaker in front of his Tercell who started to eat him. The tree was eating the six and Race pulled some Smoogh out of his pack and showing courtesy ate with them. It took an hour for the second squad to show up. They stopped in the same place the first squad had stopped and it appeared had the same discussion. Only one of the group came forward this time though.
“Who are you who come to the valley of the people of the Raft?”
“I am Race, Courier for King Urick to the king of the Raft. I bring dispatch to Raft, king of Raft.”
“We welcome the fierce courier of the people of King Urick. Please to follow me and we return to the Raft.”
Race nudged the Tercell forward and the group moved easily along. The squad kept shooting glances at the necklaces on Races neck. The first had gotten so full he had gotten another and then another. The latest ten rings were from the first squad. Soon he was thinking he would have to get another string.
When the group reached the gate, Race looked the gate over while waiting for the challenges and responses from the squad and the gatekeeper. The gate was massive, twenty feet tall and probably forty wide. When the gate moved out to let the squad through Race noticed that it was four feet thick at least. Made up of three distinct layers of tree it impressed him as nothing else on this world had.
****
Ella was frustrated, these people were as easy to fool as her people had been but just as hard to manipulate. Wrapped swathes of cloth she worked her way through the open market of the people of the Raft. Looking and listening to everything around her she used her innate gift to absorb the culture of the people she was studying. Standing close enough to listen but not so close to draw attention to her self, she listened to one of the kings warriors talk of a strange stranger who road courier for a neighboring king. Her thought on more than one occasion had been that these fierce warriors should meet some of the marines she used to hang around with and learn the true art of combat. This one sounded interesting. According to this guy the stranger had killed an entire dec or squad of ten by himself and wore three necklaces of trophies. He was sounding better and better. Perhaps another marooned imperial? Maybe she could hire him as a bodyguard until she could think of a way off world. She was getting tired of dodging the warriors who decided that she would do for their evening entertainment.
There was a commotion behind her and a group of Kings Warriors entered the market obviously guiding the stranger with them. Ella thought to herself, ahhh, a Pearly White native, not a marine which in one way was a relief. She was not looking forward to the dressing down she knew she had coming. In yet another way a disappointment, she was trying to get home and worried that she might have stuck herself on a primitive world forever. Sooner or later she was going to slip and get raped and killed. That was these peoples idea of a good evening’s entertainment.
Ella was taller than the average imperial human, which would make her tower over these people had she not moved with a stoop and a hesitation as if she had a bad leg. Her safest course would have been to attach herself to a warrior’s house, but that would entail sleeping with the warrior and she just could not make herself do it. An unattached female was fair game for the warriors, but she was adept at either not catching their eye or getting away when they did one of their group hunts in the market.
Now how to make the approach?
Race had delivered the dispatch and was going through the market with an eye out for Smoogh, when he saw Ella. Her disguise was totally transparent to him and he veered in that direction.
Ella had made the slip she had dreaded, she had been so intent on Race that she had not seen the three young warriors looking for entertainment coming up behind her. A rough hand grabbing her arm was the first sign she received. Though she knew it was futile she was not going easily. She twisted and broke his arm and shattered his knee. His companions whooped in joy. Real entertainment, a fighter, this was going to be fun. Ella was trying to figure out a way out when a calm deep voice behind her asked, “Want some help?”
“Yes.” Ella said fervently. She did not take her eyes off of the other two young warriors. There was a faint jingle from his necklaces as Race moved past her and told the two. “Mine.”
They looked at the necklaces, at the kings’ warriors standing around watching, at the size of the stranger and at their friend moaning on the ground. They were young and proud and under the eyes of their people really had no choice. One lunged forward with his spear, the other with his sword. The spear was closer so Race grabbed it and yanked it out of the kids’ hands and with one of those wrist flicks he used so much dropped the swordsman with a blow to the side of his head. He then used the butt end of the spear to the gut of the spearman, who had not caught up with losing the spear yet. Some obscure whim made him not kill them, their youth? The girl next to him? For what ever reason he stopped there. Turning to the girl he pulled a scarf from his pocket and held it out to her. She took it and tied it to her wrist. Race then continued to look for Smoogh, Ella a couple steps behind him.
The Kings warriors went back to watching. They watched the crowd, Race and the girl. This kingdom was better organized and more disciplined than that of Urick’s. Instead of milling about haphazardly this group moved with coordination.
Race found the booth he had been looking for and waved Ella forward. He handed her his money pouch and in Imperial said,
“I will want six servings for myself and you get as many as you need. The money is in this pouch” Ella started bargaining with the vendor and Race stood there looking bored but inwardly thinking. “Boy is she good at this, no wonder I was getting odd looks, I was paying full price and she is going to get all of it for the price I would have paid for one serving.”
Ella was pleased; he had the sense to act as if this were just as normal for them as for any man obtaining a woman for his household. His manner was perfect, making her wonder if he had done this before.
“No.” Race said, in imperial, “you are the first.”
Ella stiffened, “How?”
“You are not that hard to read.” He then shut up and went back to looking bored. That should take her mind off of getting too caught up in “what-ifs”. They stood in front of the vendor and Race ate all six of the servings and turned to one of the Kings warriors asked, “Where is the courier’s house?”
The warrior, Koru started off walking with Race and the girl following. Back to the Kings house and around the warrior’s barracks to a nice little house. Race and the girl stood in the street and waited while the warriors went through the house making sure that there was nothing to disturb the courier. They then positioned them selves around the house and Koru signaled Race that he could enter. Race waved his thanks and asked about his trees, the warrior assured the trees would be there “very soon”.
Once in the house with the doors closed and bolted Race and the girl stood and looked at each other.
In each of their minds they were thinking, “oh boy, now what?”
Race started with, “How did you get stuck here?”
Ella asked, “What happened to you?”
Race looked around and finding cushions signed for her to sit and sat him across the room.
“Ladies first. And just so you know, my name is Race Calhan, my father is Colonel Ian Calhan and I know who you are, Ella.”
“You look a bit like Cap.” Ella started to tear up. “Did he send...”
“No. I was on my way to boot camp and a mutiny marooned me here. “At the glint in her eye he said, “I strongly suspect this is part of training. It was all a little bit too convenient and soft hearted mutineers are a contradiction in terms.”
“I have overheard my parents talking about the need to keep a number of class four planets available for Train Prime, but I never knew exactly why. But I think you are correct, it is all a bit too convenient. I wonder if they know where we are?”
“Of course they know where we are. That is not the question; the question is what they can do about it. There are some fairly rigid rules concerning what you can and cannot do on class four planets. Especially if you are a Marine, we need to get somewhere private, say on top of a mountain or a hidden valley and I can only think of one reason that I could take off from being a courier to do that. But you are the archaeologist, maybe you can think of a reason we could do that without violating the restrictions.”
Ella looked at him in dawning realization. She cleared her throat, coughed and did it again.
“No,” she said hoarsely, “I can only think of one reason for us to go off together. The marriage ride.”
“Ok, getting married on a class four planet does not negate the marriage and with the consummation ceremony the way it is done here.. well, we would be really and truly married. I know how my family treats marriage and having tasted your family through my father, I know how your family treats it as well. Divorce is not an option. So think long and hard on this before you commit to it. A girl who can..”
“STOP!! CALLING ME A GIRL!! I AM A GROWN WOMAN AND ...” Ella realized she was shouting and stopped. Obviously embarrassed she started, ”Uh- I apologize. “
“Noooo,” Race said quietly, “You are a grown woman, with a degree and in a very difficult situation that you have handled with grace and even flair. You should be commended not run down and I am the one who should apologize.” Race stood and bowed very low. “However there is a pretty good sounding reason I have been calling you girl. You are way too attractive to me, and as long as I called you girl it was easier not to think of you that way. But I think I hear my trees arriving.”
Race walked to the door and opening it saw the teams of Pracks pulling the trees on draglines. The prack resembled a larger tercell and was used as draft animals. They had the same rabid disposition but lacked the speed to make them good Calvary mounts. The riders dropped the six trees off next to the house and taking payment from the Kings warriors left. The warriors watched as Race looked over the trees. These were the closest approach to hard wood that Race had seen on this planet and it looked really hard. He pulled his sword and tapped the edge of the tree, the sword rang like a cheap bell and the wood was barely dented. Grunting in satisfaction Race picked up one end of the tree trunk and gauged it to weigh about fifteen hundred pounds. Perfect for what he was attempting. Race was worried about becoming soft. The low gravity and lack of constant exercise was starting to affect him.
Race called into the house for Ella. When she appeared he handed her his sword, his shirt and the vest of knives he wore under the shirt. Ella slung the sword over her shoulder and folded and stacked the shirt on the ground, the vest she looked over first, counting thirteen knives on each side then stacked it on the ground as well. She then looked over at Race, and hummed under her breath. Ella had been around imperial warriors for all of her life and knew quite well what a well muscled man looked like. And the muscular development of the Pearly White branch of humanity had been the subject of a couple of lectures on divergent humanity at school. This was not the same as being close to one who was in the process of lifting and manipulating very heavy trees. The long muscles in Races back writhed as he lifted and then turned the tree trunks. The kings warriors were looking a bit bug eyed. Race was using the tree trunks as exercise weights. After about an hour he stopped, drenched in sweat and mumbled, “Way out of shape. Got to get back in the groove.”
Ella over hearing said, “You know of course that I could not even lift the end of one of those trees.”
Race walked over to the water pool used to water the tercells and to supply water for the people and picked up the largest of the ladles there. Pouring water over his head repeatedly washed the worst of the sweat off and cooled him down. Shaking himself dry he walked back over to Ella and she wordlessly handed him his vest and then his shirt. He donned them and they went back into the house.
“If I understand the system here, I should have about a week or so before I have to go back the other way. Now the big question is do you want to ride with me or trust my reputation to keep you safe until I get back in about six weeks? Oh man, am I an idiot or what? If you ride with me, we can avoid the whole Marriage ride thing and we will be alone and available for pickup for something like four weeks.” (Privately thinking to self, “That is because you were thinking about the consummate part of the marriage ceremony.”)
“I stay with you.” Ella was not about to go back to being the only imperial around.
“Then we need to determine what you are able to do so that we can get you ready for a time on the trail. Can you ride, or use primitive weapons? I know you know some self defense but how much?”
“I am black belt service ju-jitsu, I am master rated with handguns, I am rated as acceptable by my trainers with sword and nun-chuck and expert with staff. My hobby is martial arts. I am not up to your level I know, you are after all Pearly White born and bred, and I do know your father he taught me staff for awhile. He mentioned once his son Race who took second at Pearly White world championship. He seemed very proud of you.”
Race looked startled, “Proud of me? Proud of me? Odd, he was always ragging on me to be better, second did not seem to make him happy, just more determined to push me.”
“Of course he was proud of you, a Second in world competition on Pearly White. That is amazing, and at your age. You are what 18? You are only a couple years older than I and you took second at Pearly White? Un-frakin- believable.” She sounded admiring not disappointed that he took second.
“Ahhh, I turned 16 sometime last week. And I took Second at world five years running.” Race was actually embarrassed by this last admission.
Ella was stunned. That was an inhuman record, No one had ever placed in the top three even two times, five years running and starting at age eleven? She abruptly just dropped to the floor and sat there, thoughts running through her head too fast for her to focus on them. And he was only sixteen; a Pearly would continue to grow until he hit thirty. Race was already large, of course Ella was not small by imperial standards, and being close to six feet tall and usually weighed about one hundred and sixty pounds, but next to Race felt positively petite. Why was she comparing herself to him,, she was normally brutally honest with herself but did not want to examine that thought too close so shunted it off to the side for now.
Race had moved to the opposite wall and was squatting on his heels, just waiting. Watching her with some concern but not looking worried.
Ella abruptly remembered something. “You said back at the market, that I was not all that hard to read. What did you mean?”
“I am going to ask you not to share this.” Race looked at her with a degree of seriousness that he had not up to now shown.
Ella thought about it for a bit and said, “Barring a direct question from my liege or my parents I promise not to tell.”
Race took a bit to think about her answer and decided that he was more than satisfied with her and her answer.
“You are wearing an Imperial mind shield, rated as class four. I would say you had skipped your last upgrade before you left to do your study of this planet and its people.”
Ella had begun to pale as he continued.
“Had you gotten the newest upgrade, you would be much harder for me to read, but even the new class one shields will not stop me if I really want in. And no, I do not normally go around reading everyone’s mind. But I knew you were close and I was looking for you. There is a training cadre ship overhead and they were talking about your being down here, I have been doing spot checks on them every since they arrived last week. They replaced the cutter that has been up there every since we came in. Your trader landed about three hours before my mutineers dropped me off. We both are being given a hearty dish of reality as one of the trainers says. He is nearly sick with worry for the two of us, but of course cannot let on to his squad. His squad feels the same. You are still much loved by the marines, Ella.” Race stopped and waited for her comments.
“Have you ever tested for Psi?” was Ella’s question.
“I took the standard tests but was careful not to let on that I am Psi.” was Races response.
“How deep are you reading me now?”
“Not at all. I try to stay out of friends minds.” Race was firm.
“If I invited you into my mind would you come?” Ella was acting very different from what Race had expected.
“If I thought you had a good reason, and you asked, of course.” Now Race was very puzzled.
“Then please do so, I have something to show you.” Ella was looking smug.
“Very well.” Gently Race probed and felt the imperial mind shield and slid past it to encounter another mind shield, much stronger than the class four nanite built shield he had just past. He probed the shield and could detect the flavor of Ella’s mind. Being careful not to exert too much force he tested the strength and scope of her shield then withdrew.
“I would say that is an Alpha class shield, the second one I have ever encountered. When and how did you grow that?” Race was finding more and more to admire about the nice looking young lady he was here to help.
“Can you get through this shield?” Ella definitely sounded smug.
“Of course, but it would cause some pain and I do not want to hurt you.”
Ella looked disbelieving, “I was assured that no one could bypass my shield. No wait, she said as long as I had confidence that no one could bypass my shield. You are trying to trick me into lowering the shield.”
Race sighed, “I was afraid you would think that. I do not want you to be too confident in that shield or else I would not do this..” Upon the utterance of the word ‘this’, Ella felt a sharp little prick almost like being stuck with a needle, and Race spoke within her mind. “Yes I can go through an Alpha shield as well.” This time Ella felt him withdraw and experienced within her mind his admiration and growing affection for her. Again she felt awe.
“I was trained by the Priestess of Bien on Astar it’s self. She is according to the Emperor the highest level Psi in the Empire. According to her even an AI would be unable to crack that shield.”
“That may or may not be true , I have never gone head to head with an AI. I much preferred to hide from them. But let us get some sleep. I should receive the packets within a week, and in the morning we have to pick up a mount for you and some weapons. We will need to make arrangements for you to train to ride as well.“
“Ok, so where do I sleep?”
“The cushions that you are sitting on will work. I will sleep over here by the door. Let me just wedge the doors to prevent any nasty little surprises. No wait, let us walk to the latrine first. I will watch for you and then you can watch for me; again to prevent any nasty little surprises.”
***Add the training bit here***
The week passed all too quickly for Ella, the Tercell riding class was very hard for her. Riding horses had been a passing fad for her, when she was six. She outgrew them quickly and riding a Tercell was so different anyway. At least the horses did not try to eat her every time she saddled them. But she learned and by the forth day could go out and saddle, feed and ride as well as the natives. Almost as well as the natives, well ok, she could ride the stinking things. At least Race had never once made fun of her, ridiculed her nor gotten impatient with her during the sometimes painful learning process.
Race had spent some time sparring with her and critiquing her technique but always in instructor mode. A mode she knew well as you did not reach black belt without being able to teach others. He actually applauded her skill with the staff and cut her a stout one from one of his weight training trees. They spent some time working with the Tercell and staff. The Kings guards were mildly amused at first but that quickly went away when they realized how many of their women were watching. They at first protested mildly to Race for teaching his woman to fight, saying that it was giving their women ideas. Race’s question of their fearing a woman, even one with a stick stopped the protest. They were not happy, but could not come up with an objection that did not make them lose face.
In one of their wanderings through the market, race found an odd weapon that he knew he had to have. Bargaining for food and such was woman’s work, but bargaining for weapons was men’s work so he had to bargain for it. He was so bad at it that Ella started chanting in imperial. This sounded like some of the women’s chants so all the men present ignored it. Except for Race who listened intently even if it looked as if he could not hear it. Ella coached him through the haggling cycle. He got the weapon and harness for it, and got it fitted for his much larger person for less than he would have paid for the weapon alone.
Taking it back to their “house” Race unscrewed the handle and then from the tip that fitted inside the head, unscrewed a capsule. Opening the capsule he extracted a small black rock. The rock was covered in an intricate pattern of white lines. Extending his hand with the capsule Race dropped it into Ella’s hand. Ella looked at it and the weapon in puzzlement. Race re-assembled the weapon and re-sheathed it behind his right shoulder.
Holding out his hand he took the rock and studied it and then grinned.
“Pickup expected in four days if we can manage to be alone.” He pointed at one spot on the pattern. “That is a little ridge that I crossed coming in and the trail is hidden by pretty rugged terrain just there. We should get the packets tomorrow and reach that spot the day after. Wait around two days or less and ta-da, you get to go home and I get to go on to the next stage of boot camp. Probably where they teach me to march and look good in uniform.”
“I have a better idea,” Ella said.
“Eh?” Race looked startled, “Better than going home? Exactly what do you mean?”
“I have watched you ‘not looking at me’ long enough. I want to take you home to meet my parents.” Ella had a very intent look in her eyes.
“Be sure Ella. You already have my heart.” Race for once was not hiding anything. Ella could see the pulse beating at his neck and see her future in his eyes.
“Your father will not allow either of us to marry for two more years and you know it. I would be willing to wait for you.” Race had not moved at all. But his eyes caressed her tenderly.
“Nope, waiting is not an option.” Ella stood up and started un-wrapping all those layers of cloth, “All I ask is be careful and do not break me in two.”
“I will restrain my self.” Race promised, and he did.
The next day the King summoned Race and handed over the packets for him to carry back. Race went to the house and he and Ella loaded up their Tercells and rode out.
As soon as they cleared the area where the Rafters patrolled and both checked out the surrounding area they stopped and tied up the Tercells and simply held each other while once again declaring their love for each other.
After a bit of hugging and fervent kisses they remounted and lighter in heart rode toward their meeting with the marines. Two days later secluded in the little pass they watched a gun sled uncloak a few yards away. Race ripped the saddles off the Tercells and holding hands with Ella walked into the open portal of the gun sled. The sled cloaked again, effectively turning invisible and rose up to the sky. The squad of marines just inside the door watched the couple as Ella burrowed into Races side. With his left arm around Ella Race watched back. When the gun sled docked in the ship Train One, the only indication was gravity shifted a little. The portal behind them opened. Race turned with Ella and they walked out into the cavernous bay where a group of marines and royals awaited them.
“Daddy!” Ella cried out and ran to her father who scooped her up and swung her in a long circular turn.
Race looked at his father and walking over to him picking him up shared a rib cracking hug. Looking at his father he saw his own tears reflected in his fathers eyes. “I love you dad and I am sorry for the way I have treated you and mom all these years.” He said simply. Then he turned to his mother and repeated the hug and the apology.
Ella broke free from her mother and father and ran to Race. Ian braced to attention but Ella hugged him fiercely and then hugged Race’s mother, Martha.
“Introduce me you big idiot.” She hissed to Race.
“Baron and Baroness Hasting, Colonel Ian Calhan, Professor Martha Calhan, I have the honor to present my Intended Bride Ella Hasting. We have consummated the first promise and wish to set the date today for the marriage.” Race and Ella waited for the explosion. And waited, and waited. Their parents stood frozen faced and then turned to each other and Baron Jorge Hastings spoke.
“The parents of the bride have heard the request for marriage and agree. Do the parents of the groom also agree?”
“The parents of the groom agree to the request for the re-joining of the House of Hastings to the House of Calhan. Shall we discuss dates at this time?” Ian’s dress jacket looked to be straining the fastenings. He was stone faced but the pride was shining in his eyes.
“I would suggest as soon as we can gather the families at Home.” Baron Hastings eyes also showed a measure of pride.
To say that the engaged couple were surprised at the easy agreement to their marriage would be an understatement of monumental degree. They had been prepared for a upset, angry and distraught emotional firestorm. Not for this quiet and business like agreement and efficient scheduling. They of course had to stand formally correct and ignore the business aspect and await the decree of marriage date.
Race had another of those sneaking suspicions that the parents had known this was going to happen. But he had not read his parent’s minds since that long ago time when he had decided to hide his talents. He was not going to start now. Nor was he going to peek into his future in-laws. He was going to stand here and wait, just as Ella had to do.
Ella was staring in disbelief. Her parents were not only taking them seriously, they were agreeing. They were scheduling the wedding. They were going to allow her to marry the man she loved, instead of marrying the “perfect man” they had picked out for her. Who ever this mysterious perfect man was. He had been mentioned from time to time, and when she asked had always been spoken of as “you will know when it is time, dear.” She twitched when she felt Race tenderly invade her mind. The love and care he felt for her weakened her knees. She felt him examine her thoughts on the mysterious man and his wry amusement carried over.
“I think we may be together because our parents planned for this to happen, if not quite in this way. They are taking this way too easy. I wonder who their strategist is.”
“Do you really believe they planned for us to fall in love?” Ella was not upset, just awed.
“Yes, this is way too easy. There is a trick here somewhere. Mom and your mother have that “I am too pleased with myself for words.” We have been had, but seeing as you are the prize, I do not care. I love you so much..” from here his thoughts were too private to record here.
They tuned back in when Ian and Jorge shook hands and returned to their wives side.
“It is agreed, the wedding will take place at Hasting Hall on Home. The date will be Bien one of this year, ninety days from today.” Jorge announced.
Together the six people stepped forward, Race hugging first his father, then his mother, Jorge and Bella in their turn followed by Ella who started with her father and proceeded to end with Martha. At the end of the formalities, Ella was scooped up by Race who held her snug, careful of his strength, to his heart.
Race and Ella were separated to bath and change clothing. Race met his parents in the sitting room of the suite assigned to them and again was met with hugs and tears of love.
His mother was the first to ask, “Son, can you tell us what it is that you have been suppressing all these years and what we did to cause it?”
There were tears in Race’s eyes as he said, “I was simply too young to understand the depth of emotions that are present when a man and woman who love each other fight. You and dad were yelling at each other about some trivial thing and I caught the overflow. ***It hurt. I quit trying to please you because I was afraid of getting hurt again. Now I understand and am mature enough to handle that level of emotion. There was no way for you to know that you had birthed a Psi and one that could hide from the Psi detectors at that. Now I am able to damp emotion that is not mine and still be aware of it and what it is saying.” Turning to his suddenly wary mother he continued, “No mother I am not reading either of you now. I avoid reading family. Ella’s is the only mind I spend any amount of time in. That is one of the things that caused so many of the fights on planet. I got out of the habit of reading everyone and it allowed for surprises. The natives caught the edge of frustration I have been building over the years.”
Race then turned to his father, “Yes father, I did indeed deliberately fail at the world championships, all four years. Part of it was that I did not want to be noticed as too much of a freak, part was frustration at not being able to tell you what was wrong. Yet another part was avoiding where the winners of cluster championship go. I still want no part of the Hammer.”
Ian was being surprised over and over again. He had thought that he could not be more surprised than he was when his son apologized and expressed his love in public. He was wrong, and then he thought that nothing could surprise him more than that his son was Psi. Wrong again, now to discover that Race knew of the Hammer was almost too much. But he had made Colonel in a hard school and was able to hold on to his composure, barely.
“I do not doubt you son, but do you suppose you could prove any of this, just for the record?” There was again the gleam of pride in Ian’s eyes.
“Well I suppose that I could give you a bit of a show, for the family. Hasty should be coming up from his sleep shift soon, you could set it up with him.” Race’s eyes took on a distant look his mother recognized from long experience. Now however she did not believe that he was daydreaming as she had in the past.
“Ok,” Race continued, “You have the sparring chamber in the forward section of this little pretty boat. Hasty and Black Heart are hanging around the lunch room hoping you will come by and you can catch up. Hasty has his squad with him and they are preparing to eat, you will want to head that off. They need to eat lightly before the bout. Hasty and his “Fast Killers” are just about all I will be able to handle just now. That low gravity environment has me horribly out of shape.”
Ian raised one eyebrow and pulled a ship phone from his pocket and spoke into it. “Connect me to Major Blackson.” Then after a pause, “Black Heart, tell Hasty to stop eating and for his squad to stop as well. They are all to participate in a hand to hand demonstration for the Baron and his family, as are you, so put the beer down. Ella and her Intended are to be there as will Martha and I. The match will be recorded and sent to Shawn so try to look awake.” Then he hung up.
Ian had a positively evil grin on his face when he spoke again into the phone, “Connect me with Jorge please.” Once he had the Baron on the phone he went into a short explanation and invitation. Halfway through he stopped and listened and said, “Yes sir.” Then he closed the phone. Turning to Martha he looked at her and at his poker faced son and said, “He already knew, Ella told him.”
Then to his son, “are you two in contact all the time?”
“Yes sir, pretty much all of the time. Every since, “Race was blushing now” since the consummation of our promise to each other.”
Ian cocked up one eyebrow and said, “You of course know there are reasons why Pearly White’s do not usually marry non-Pearly White humans.”
“Yes sir, we are both aware of the dangers of the mutation and of possible consequences. However Ella is also High-Psi and insists that there is no danger to her due to our both being Psi. The child we have already conceived will not harm his mother because we both can prevent physical damage from the mutation.”
***
The Pearly White mutation occurred when the colonists of the world were in their sixth generation. The science of biological nano machines was still in it’s’ infancy. An experimental strain was mixed up with a standard healing strain and unknowingly administrated to the Pearly White population. The empires scientists have not been able to re-create all of the factors which caused the mutation. The effects of the mutation are a greatly enhanced muscular and skeletal system. Previous to the mutation most members of the Pearly White ran around five feet high and three to four hundred pounds. Also the life expectancy was about forty-five standard years. Humanity as a whole is not built for heavy gravity.
After the mutation, the average height of a Pearly White male was eight feet at thirty years of age, and the females were seven feet. The weight increased even more proportionally, this is due to the silicon matrix that found its way into the bones. Average adult male weighs 600 pounds while the average female weighs 500 pounds. The life expectancy also increased dramatically to one hundred fifty years. The decline to death is very short. A Pearly White person will live to around one hundred fifty years and then in the space of three months loose physical integrity and die.
Problems cropped up when the Pearly White strain of humanity tried to marry un-mutated humans. The children of Male Pearly White to un-mutated human killed the mother. The children of Female Pearly White to un-mutated human died in the womb. Those occasions when medicos intervened and the babies were assisted to birth, the infants did not live long, normally less than one year.
Ian walked with his son and soon to be daughter-in-law on his left, his wife on his right. On the far side of the corridor to Ella’s left walked her father and mother. Six across they moved down the center of the corridor. While there was room for many more on each side, everyone gave way to the Baron and his company. The group drew many stares, not only for the Baron and the Colonel but for the young people in the middle. This was the first of the formal promenades that the couple would go through but to Ella the most important. Her family had closer ties to the marines than any other of the Royals and had always considered them as family. To Ella this was her introduction of her future husband to her family. The ships compliment of trainers, assault troops and ships crew were all Imperial Marines. As the party walked into the “Small Arena” and moved to the “A” seats, Ian and Race separated and walked over to where Hasty and his squad were donning the heavy sparing pads for the match.
“Hasty, are you ready for a different level of contest than I gave you last time?” Race had a friendly smile on his face and a ready hand out to shake.
“I thought you were holding back last time. Judging from the reports down below, you were. Yes, this time I look forward to whipping you honest.” Hasty had the same smile and handshake.
The two shook hands and looked into each others eyes with genuine liking. Hasty then looked over at Ella and said to Race in a gruff tone, “Thanks.”
Glancing in the same direction then looking back at Hasty, Race replied, “No problem. Where are the pads?”
Hasty indicated a large duffel lying nearby, “Never opened so they will be a bit shiny but we can get you fitted out. How are we going to play this?” Hasty walked over and opening the bag started pulling out the sparring pads and helping Race to fit them on.
“You have been training on hostile extraction and dad said you were getting pretty good. Of course you haven’t had any real resistance. According to him you have had to do with that old man, Black Heart. So your team is going to run through hostile extraction with me. I guarantee you will find the resistance a bit harder. Also you have been using force limit two, we are going to use force limit four.”
Hasty was startled on several levels. First of course that Ian was aware of his training schedule, his squad was one of hundreds of thousands in this sector alone. So why was Ian tracking his squad? Second was the amused respect in Race’s voice for both he and Black Heart, as far as he knew, Race had never met Black Heart. The major would have mentioned it during their scanty briefing had they ever met, and he had not. Thirdly, forth level force was one level below lethal. And lastly there were ten men in his squad. He knew that Race had been holding back when they met before on the mats. However ten on one was bad enough but force level four? Force level four permitted the use of batons; padded batons, but still.
Race looked at him and said, “No I do not want to go for a lower level of force. I am proving something to dad and he needs to see this. Also he wants you to learn something. I am not permitted to tell you what. Ella has seen me fight and while you are a higher class opponent, you are not really trying to kill me. That was not true the other time she watched me. Also you know I am not trying to kill you or anyone on your squad. In a way that makes this more of a game. But it will be good training. I will not be trying to kill, but you and your boys can expect a few bruises before you get me in the restraints.” Rolling his shoulders Race walked down the line of Pearly White marines and shook hands with each, calling each by his name. And he was looking each one firmly in the eye. This served several purposes; it enabled him to get a feel for the men he was going to be fighting and to plant a link in their heads. There were going to be some very surprised marines in just a few minutes. All this time, Race and Ella were exploring the AI that was overseeing the sparring section. This was a top of the line Karlburg System 240 “Watcher”. Watcher did have PSI screening abilities; it just was not up to handling one Alpha Psi much less two at once. Working as if they had been a team for decades, Race held the AI frozen while Ella carefully registered the two of them as administrators for the system and instructed the AI to ignore any Psi that happened during the upcoming bout. With that done, Race gave Ella a mental hug and walked over to the bench being clamped to the floor. The hologram came up showing a transit stop and the area darkened.
It was night in the city and Race sat on a bench waiting for something. The three large bodyguards stationed around him marked him as someone of some importance. Suddenly there were three clicks and the body guards all fell down. The man on the bench, a hologram cloaked Race, leapt to his feet and hopped up on the bench. From around the corners of the building came four men in two men teams. They were moving very quickly and would reach Race in less than one second. Race jumped straight up and there was a loud thump as something impacted something else just below his feet. Race dropped down and landed on something invisible. Immediately he bounded off toward one of the teams who pivoted and brought up padded batons in attack positions. Moving too quickly to follow with the eye, Race slid between the two men. And striking left and right dropped both men. In a continuation of the slide he flipped over and up and kicking off of some invisible object and rebounded back the way he had just came from. The invisible opponent “oofed “and then hit the floor with a resounding thump. Race hit the floor and rolled, kicking out with both feet he hit another of the cloaked fighters. With this rebound he was suddenly engulfed in what felt like layers of wet blankets. To the watchers it looked as if Race had been moving at superhuman speed. And then the snatch team landed on Race. The watchers could see the cloaked figures as ghostly outlined figures. The five man snatch team had restrainers, force field devices that could restrain an elephant. The force fields showed up to the viewers as glowing areas of blue. In what should have been overkill, all five of the team aimed the restrainers at Race. Unbelievingly he continued to move, although a bit slower. The leader, marked with a numeral “1” above his head, pulled cuffs from his belt and tried to get one wrist. Instead he was grabbed and imposed between Race and two of the other team members. A short quick flurry of movement and Race slid out of the fields and into two of the team. There was once more a quick flurry of movement and the team members dropped. A baton came in from behind Race and should have rendered him unconscious, but he went with it, half rolling forward onto his hands and mule kicking back dropped another of the cloaked fighters. Spinning sideways he came up with one of the batons and using his patented wrist flick threw it away. It traveled about eight feet and bounced off of another cloaked fighter.
Race leisurely walked back to the bench and slumped down on it. Pointing his forefinger at his downed opponents he started counting out loud. He got to nine and looking puzzled started counting again. He moved to the left in a blur as the sound of a swish and the ‘boing’ of the baton bouncing off of the bench resounded through the arena. He came back faster than he left. Seeming to go from one place to the other with out going through the intervening space Race reached his cloaked opponent and with a series of very fast blows dropped him. Then Race collapsed on the bench.
“Drill is over. Everyone stop. I want the medics on the floor.” Ian’s voice rang through the arena. Ian and the family hurried to Race as Black Heart and the medics hurried to the contestants. Race tried to wave off the medic but was over ruled. The medic ran a med-scanner over his body then handed him a large bottle of water and said to drink it all. Race poured the water down as the medic watched. The scanner was again checked and Race was given more water. Both the medic and race ignored the blue-black bruising starting to appear on his face, body and limbs.
Ian walked back over to Race after consulting the Medic team leader and looking at the medic in attendance asked, “Is he ok?”
“Just a little dehydrated sir.” The medic replied. Ian looked at the bruising and then back at the medic and lifted an inquiring eyebrow.
“Just the bruising you get with these entire bouts sir. They should be gone in an hour or so, his nannites are already clearing them up.” The medic was sure that this newest fighter was going to be a heck of a marine. Then Ian looked over at Ella walking over to where he and Race were chatting with the medic. Race stood up and enveloped Ella in a hard but controlled hug. Ella looked over at Ian and said, “You really did not know how much he was holding back did you?”
“It was almost as bad as watching a trained fighter go against an untrained mob. And yet Hasty has the best team in the business.” Ian was shaking his head in disbelief. “How do you do that?”
“Uh, not to be paranoid but don’t you think we should restrict that information to a Need to Know basis?” Hasty could not credit the openness that Ian was showing in discussing such a matter out in the open.
“Everyone here is cleared for this level of information, “Black Heart said. “And I also would like to know how you did that. I especially want to know how you knew the locations of the cloaked team members. Do we need to upgrade our stealthing tech or what?”
“How about this,” Jorge offered, “we all need to eat. Let us continue this over a meal.” It was not a suggestion, it was an order and everyone present knew it. Jorge offered Bella his arm and they began to walk toward the dining room followed by Ian and Martha with Race and Ella walking beside them. Race and Ella were strolling with clasped hands, while Hasty walked to Race’s left and back one step. Black Heart was walking one step back and to Ella’s right. Ella and Race both noticed the apparent accidental grouping. A casual glance around showed that Hastys’ team was walking screen for the group. Race glanced at Ian who flicked a glance at Jorge’s back. Race handed the towel back to Hasty and took in return his vest and shirt and donned them as if he were cooling down too fast. The group of royals was chatting about inconsequential things when the attack occurred. A ceiling panel fell to the floor just ahead of the group and a couple of masked and armored figures dropped out of the opening with drawn handguns. At the same time the door to the dining area flew open and a rifleman stepped through raising the rifle to his shoulder. The rifleman lived the longest, simply because it took the knife longer to reach him than it did the closer pistol men. Races first two knives took the closer falling men in the right eye of each. The rifle man was dead before the pistol men hit the floor. The female marine holding the remote in her off hand lived simply because Ella wanted her alive. However Ella did hit her hard enough that she was unconscious before she hit the ground.
To Hasty and his crew it was as if Race and Ella had flickered they were moving so fast. Race and Ella stared as the “bodies” melted into rainbow flickers.
“Holograms! Those were holograms.” Ella exclaimed turning to look at the still present and still unconscious marine. She turned and looked at Black Heart with accusation in her eyes. “You set this up didn’t you?”
Black Heart just lifted his hands and said, “I was just following orders Ella. Don’t take it out on me.” His innocent look fooled no one. Ella turned and glared at her father. Exasperation in her voice she said, “Dad! She could have been killed.” Pointing to the marine that one of the medics was working over.
“I had to know if you two were capable of defending yourselves in this environment as well as in one where you knew you were in constant danger. You have done so. I would ask where you learned to fight that well if I had not seen your beloved in action. Come let us continue to the food, we will talk more there.” Jorge turned and continued his walk.
The mess was a very large room broken up into smaller eating areas. The baron moved into the largest of these eating areas leaving room for the accompanying marines. Once seated he waved everyone else to sit and then started talking to the screen in front of him. Everyone else made their choices and Jorge looked at Race and Ella and asked, “Would you please continue your explanation?”
“Briefly then, Ella and I are linked by Psi. The act of consummating our promise linked us in a way that I personally have never heard of. It seems that now our two minds are using more of our physical brains than previously. Also my reflexes have always been faster than other Pearly Whites. Contact with my mind seems to be causing Ella’s reflex speed to increase. It appears that anything either one of us has learned the other knows. High levels of Psi have been proven to increase reflex still further. Psi is one reason that I am so much faster than the average Pearly White. Between the two of us we are able to control the growth of our child in a way that will prevent him from harming his mother. We also are able to prevent the control from harming the child. He will be born the first successful Pearly White/human cross. He will not be the last. We believe that we can teach the healers the technique so that others can share our good fortune. “Race stopped to drink some water, then continuing, “I am able to see right through personal stealth systems via PSI. Ella and I between us were able to disable the AI watching the arena so that the PSI that we both were using did not trigger an alert. Ella was watching my back as that was a bit much with that many people attacking at the same time and so well trained to boot.”
Race picked up his glass and started drinking water again as Ella continued without a break, “The PSI that Race has had all of his life changed once we mated. It is still changing and seems to be growing more. It is more versatile, stronger, less tiring to use and we are finding talents that we have not had before. Race believes that someday we will become a creature of Psi. Not having physical form but being a living mind, a Psi mind.”
Jorge and Ian stared at each other for a few seconds and then both started laughing.
Insert****
The brothers who were marrying the sisters had intended to adopt. But with the news that a method of triggering the Pearly White mutation in humans of the normal strains caused them to have a long discussion with their wives to be. The girls were ecstatic and in a hurry to get the treatment. This was to them a bittersweet piece of news as there was still no word on their sister trapped on a class four planet. The brothers also were having problems dealing with the loss of their little brother. The parents of both were due in later today with the final review of the incident. The original wait while the siblings were first located then lost again had worn all of them out. Their falling in love and planning a wedding for two couples had put an enormous strain on them, but had only strengthened their resolve and love for each other.
Finally the summons to the Barons quarters came. The two couples met in the hall and walked together to the entrance of the Barons sitting room. There were more than twice the number of marines normally present in the area. The brothers eyed the increased security with some curiosity as they were both still on active (detached) duty. They discussed their mixed feelings about some of Race’s more exotic practical jokes along with their intended’s stories about Ella and her total immersion into the marines training programs. The sisters insisted (tongue in cheek) that Ella had just enjoyed looking at all those muscles.
The doors opened and the twins counted six (six??!!!) squads of marines in the room, and they knew there had to be at least a couple of squads cloaked in there as well. It was a wonder that the air conditioner was able to keep up with the body heat. The two couples walked to the sitting area at the other end of the room. Except for themselves and the marines, the room was empty. The closing of the doors behind them appeared to be a signal as one of the smaller side doors opened and a obviously pregnant Ella flew out and scooped up the nearest sister with a glad cry. Ella! The other sister immediately joined the joyful reunion. The brothers glanced at each other and knowing their brother’s sneaky jokes, started to look around. Sure enough, standing just behind them was Race, with a big grin on his face. While not as noisy this reunion was no less heartfelt. The twins noticed the change in Race immediately. The furtive hidden part of him seemed to be gone. He glowed with life and joy, they immediately connected this with Ella and suddenly looked concerned.
“Is Ella?” They started and then tuned into what Ella was saying.
“Yes, I am being extremely careful with my hugs as I am now Pearly White, the conversion is complete and you two are next in line to receive the treatment. Race insisted so that his brothers can be as happy as we are.” Ella glowed with joy.
The brothers turned as one and looked at Race.
“Race insisted?” One asked. “How are you the one to decide who uses the new procedure?”
“As Ella and I are currently the only ones who can perform the process, we have a lot to say about who is to get it and in what order.” Race’s grin became if anything, broader.
“I have an enormous problem seeing Race as the savior of the norms. Or as the savior of anything, truth be told.” Two said, astounded. “I remember practical jokes. I remember fights. I remember him and pop wrangling at each other. I remember rice in my shoe. I do not remember him being helpful except in the matter of fighting off bullies.”
“Ahhh, the rice in the shoe was me I am afraid.” One commented.
“I always blamed Race, and he never corrected me.” Two said, with a look that promised retaliation at a later time.
“Childish ways, just childish ways, bro,” Race said with a wry grin. “I now know what I need to do and further know how to do it. Allow me to introduce my intended.” Once the formal introductions were done the group started to look for chairs and noticed that their parents were all seated at the far end of the room and beaming at them. The sisters noticed the change in their parents at once. They were noticeably larger than before.
“You have already been converted haven’t you?” Sister one said, awed.
“Yes, daughter the process is not painful and is easy except for the food intake until process is complete. Oh, and changing all of your clothing.”
Bella had always been tall but slender. Now she was not all that much tall, but was at least a good hundred pounds heavier.
The rest of the week passed in a blur to the young couples. The marriage between the three Calhan brothers into the House of Hastings attended by the Emperor Shawn was too well published for them to have the level of privacy they wanted. However the presence of First Fleet and the Emperor’s own Battle Group kept things from getting out of hand.
Shawn held a private meeting with just the two families and the Priestess of Bien of Astar. While there were no guards in the room itself there were guards in every connecting room as well as the floors above and below. Most thought the Priestess was guard enough not to mention all the Pearly Whites in the room.
Race and Ella were learning self control very fast but when Ian, Shawn and the Priestess came together. When the mental barriers that even they had not detected dropped; Ella and Race both blurted out, “SYBLINGS! How in Bien’s name?”
“That is a story for another time nephew.” Shawn grinned at his very surprised nieces and nephews. “This time is for your weddings. Because of the vast benefit of your contribution to our peoples you will be promoted as a part of your wedding. The ceremony will function as the announcement,” he reached his hand out and the Priestess handed him a sword, “but the promotion is right now. Race Calhan and Ella Hastings kneel.”
Race and Ella obeyed instantly kneeling before their Emperor. “Race and Ella hold out your left hands, palm up. “ When the couple had again instantly obeyed, Shawn used the sword to cut a deep slash into the meaty part of the palm at the base of the thumb. The blood ran freely to start to drip toward the floor. The Priestess caught the blood in a golden basin. After about a cup of blood total had ran into the basin, Shawn said, “Stop the bleeding.” The Priestess started to reach toward Ella’s hand but the blood stopped instantly and she watched in some startlement as the cuts healed as she watched. She had been trying to read the couple ever since she landed but was unable to even detect them when in the same room. Still, knowing her duty, she held her comments for later.
Shawn swirled the blood in the basin and spoke, “Race Calhan and Ella Hastings from this day forward you are ranked second only to myself. Equal in rank to the Heir, this title and responsibility is not hereditary and dies with you. But is for life. Your emperor and your people thank you. “ He then handed the basin to the Priestess and taking the sword cut his left hand in the same manner and bled into the bowl. When enough blood had gathered he held his hand toward Race and felt the healing immediately. By the time he had pulled his hand back, it was completely healed. Shaking his head in wonder, he took the bowl back and swirled the basin, mixing the blood thoroughly. He then handed the bowl to the Priestess and commanded, “Bless this Blood of your Emperor and his loyal subjects, Race and Ella.” The priestess bowed her head and Psi visibly ran over her and the bowl. (Race and Ella watched with their Psi –eyes at the demonstration and realized that some Psi force was using the Priestess as a conduit. Whatever or whoever it was, the being was many levels more powerful than Race and Ella together. They decided to take the blessing gratefully and not try to take on a ‘god’.)
Once the blood was blessed the blood was poured into three cups and the three people drank it down. Race and Ella were now ranked second in the Empire. Subject only to the Emperor, they now had responsibility to and for all of the Empire. Theirs was to be a busy life. They couldn’t wait.
“The year is 2011 and Samuel Elmsmore is adrift in the universe. After a series of breakdowns he awakens as a virtual prisoner in a hostel for the mentally ill. He’s estranged from his family and friends, and is jobless after an unfortunate incident
See which way the winds have blown in the Winds of Time!!
Order your Kindle copy today!!
Author Bruce Alan Humphrey creates a fascinating world where medieval mores and cutting-edge technology converge. Winds of Time tells the gripping tale of Tarl
