The Verse:
A short trip for many, a long trip for one
Many chances indeed to trip and fall.
The Vision:
I’m on a flyer in the middle of what seems to be a party. Then someone stands and announces that the revolution has arrived.
Commentary by Archbishop Co’oal Venesti:
Let it be noted that throughout this narrative, and despite enormous personal inconvenience, the Archon’s sole concern is with the well-being of his people, the people of the Domha’vei. He also displays amazing charity and forgiveness to repentant heretics.
Commentary by Elma, High Prophetess of Skarsia:
The thing that I noted was how much liquor was being put down. I’ll bet the bar tab for that trip was more than the cost of the new airfield.
Commentary by Archbishop Seth:
After careful consideration, it seemed to me that the person with the best vantage on all that happened was Captain Noviik. She has kindly consented to provide the commentary.
Commentary by Captain Suzanna Noviik:
This is a crazy story. But most of my stories are crazy stories.
I should’ve known that something was up when Clive invited me to go to Chalkolo with him. Now the first thing anyone thinks of when they hear “Chalkolo” is, of course, the infamous Chalkolo Julep. But those drinks are named after a place – a very chichi beach on Dolparessa, on the opposite side of the Sea of Illusion from the imaginatively named Capital City.
A part of me was thinking: beach – drinks – party – men – fun!
A part of me was thinking: Clive wants to go to the beach?
So the deal was basically this: Claris had invited Clive on some big court vacation trip. Claris was driving Clive crazy. Clive thought that having me along would diffuse the situation.
Does Clive have even the faintest clue about female behavior?
Sooooo…Clive is going to the beach with his current gf and TWO ex gfs. And one of his ex gf’s happens to be married to another one of my ex bfs, who is also on the trip.
This is a recipe for happiness, kids. And this is just the set up.
There were a ton of people going with us. A ton. Bunches of aristos: Lord Danak, Lord Hslek, Battlequeen Escharton. All kinds of servants: Sir Kaman Rafmin, the ipsissimal tree surgeon, his husband Lwrence, and his toyboy, the princeling Raoul. A cute chauffeur named Malik, and his wife, Premma, a middle-aged woman who dressed like a twelve-year-old and seemed to have a bug up her butt about something. Any time during the whole trip, whenever she was unhappy about a trivial detail, she would mutter the word “dobergator,” and boom, someone would cater to her immediately. I wonder what that was about.
Security was tight. There was a visible honor guard, invisible SSOps agents, and then really invisible SSOps agents. “SUZANNA BABY!” shouted a familiar voice as I was checking my luggage. “YOU GOT ASSIGNED TO THIS JOINT, TOO?”
“I’m a guest, Marty,” I said. “I wasn’t told that PLOT/Twist was involved. And you might want to tone it down.”
“It’s just me and Ricky. Last minute deal. Her Eminence wants us to check the rooms for cameras. She doesn’t fancy making another blue movie.”
“Pity,” I sighed. “Bubble Fun was probably the most innovative porn I’ve seen in years. Although it was a little strange to watch. I mean, it would’ve been stranger to watch Chase – I’ve never been involved with Lucius – except, well, Lucius possessed my body for a few days. So yeah, strange.”
“It doesn’t seem strange to me at all. I’ve seen Ashtara do it as…let’s see…Tommy, Patrick, Ailann, Callum, Ari, Owen and Lugh, Cüinn, Seth, Tarlach, Manasseh…”
“Now I need to put my brain in a decontamination chamber,” I said, hoisting my third trunk into the hilift.
“I guess you don’t believe in traveling light,” said Marty.
“You never know when you’re going to have a shoe emergency,” I said.
I met Clive at the gate. “Private flyer,” I said. “Nice. I wonder if they’ll serve champagne.”
“Who cares? I just need a stiff cup of javajuice.”
Claris came up behind him. “Is that her? Geez, look at those mammary glands. Worse than Tara. It must be awkward to move around like that. Stupid design.”
“Pleased to meet you, I’m sure,” I said frostily. How odd. She was my complete opposite. Willowy, petite, dark skinned, tightly coiled dark curls and the exotic green eyes that marked her as a Cu’enmerengi. She was dressed in a gray striped designer suit with a bit of lace at the collar, and a clay brooch depicting a cartoon felinoid – tasteful, feminine, with a touch of whimsy. Her sandals were chic, mid-heeled, practical.
I, on the other hand, am tall and, shall we say voluptuous, with blue eyes and long blonde hair I had tied into a ponytail with a scarf – to look sporty for the expedition. I was wearing shorts and a halter made from that trendy stretch-and-glo fabric paired with five-inch stilettoes. I had enormous silver earrings that swung when I moved my head, catching the light.
Shall I put it plainly? Claris dresses for women, and I dress for men. Unfortunately, Clive wouldn’t notice the difference between a stripper’s outfit, a business suit, and a lab coat.
There was a stir as the doors opened – security poured in, and suddenly we were surrounded with paparazzi. “Time to get to work,” said Marty. “Gotta sabotage those microcams.”
The ipsissimal couple entered surrounded by their retinue. The Matriarch was wearing a riding outfit with leather piping and gold embroidery. Her red curls were gathered and pulled back under a cap, on her feet were a pair of smart riding boots, and on her arm was Ailann Tiarnan, Archon of Skarsia. I stared at my stilettoes, feeling completely inadequate. I could only match my shoes to my outfit; she could match her husband to hers. “A Cu’enashti is the ultimate accessory,” I murmured.
That’s what the commotion was all about: Tara was accompanied by Ailann Tiarnan. That was odd – why would the Archon come on a vacation trip? I think most of us assumed she’d bring Prince Patrick.
And then it was more than paparazzi. A rush of passengers and bystanders so sudden and relentless that the security men were lost in the pressure of the stream. “Heal me!” one person shouted. “Bless my baby!” a woman screamed.
Clive grabbed me by one hand and Claris by the other, ramming his way through the crowd, towing us in his wake. “Stupid fucking stunt,” I heard him mutter. “The only place the Archon should appear is at the top of a Solstice tree.”
Suddenly, the Matriarch was behind us. Her reflexes were good: she saw that the opportunity to jump our slipstream was better than letting her guardsmen fight it out for her. “That’s it. I’m constructing a private airfield,” I heard her say.
“I can’t believe you don’t already have one.”
“There’s the Matriarchal Terminal on Skarsia – which I rarely use, since I rarely go to Skarsia. But Dolparessa used to be free of this kind of bullshit.”
“The Matriarch is not the problem,” Clive said dryly as we boarded the flyer. “The Archon is the problem.”
“In more ways than one,” said Tara. “Ailann wants to walk amongst the people. It’s starting to become a major safety hazard – and not just for him. Someone could’ve gotten crushed in that mess.”
“You talk to him,” said Danak. “I’ve been trying to convince him for years that all his public appearances need to be managed.”
“I wanted a window seat,” Premma sulked. “Dobergator.”
“I’ll trade with you,” said Sir Kaman. “It’s no problem at all.”
Clive sat between Claris and me. Window or not, the seat was cushy and upholstered with vlizaard. So this was how the elite lived. Not shabby.
“It looks like the Archon will be held up for a bit,” said one of the flightrons, a pretty girl in a dress uniform, but wearing a nau’gsh lei. “Would anyone like a pre-flight cocktail? A Chalkolo Julep to put you in the mood? Or perhaps some nau’gsh wine?”
Claris shot me a look of clear hostility which told me I’d better avoid the aphrodisiac. “Julep,” I said.
“Javajuice,” said Clive.
“It’s an authentic one, so only touch the rim of the cup,” said Tara. “It’ll frost up. The bourbon and starmint muddle are flash frozen with liquid oxygen, pulverized and then liquefied by adding a touch of warm nau’gsh syrup. Honestly, when I do it at home, I just throw the mint, bourbon and syrup into a shaker with some crushed ice.”
“You mix your own drinks?”
“Hell yeah. First, it’s a hobby. Second, if I had a servant doing it, I’d never have two seconds to be alone. And the last thing I need is servants underfoot when I’m nova’d.”
“Imperial, isn’t she?” said Clive. Lord Danak shuffled nervously in his seat.
“My dakkari doesn’t have enough plantain cream,” said Premma. “Dobergator.” Next to her, her husband the chauffeur shrugged helplessly.
“I’ll make you another,” said the flightron.
“He should get a handle on her,” I whispered. “She’s nothing special.”
“He’s Cu’enashti,” said Tara. “But it was only a goddamn ra’aabit. She should’ve seen my bathroom.”
I tend to have a strong feminine intuition, and it was screaming don’t go there.
It was another quarter hour before the Archon finally boarded the flight. “It started with the man with Benn’nisi Syndrome, and then another one needed a hip replacement, and then the girl with allergies…soon, they were all asking for me to fix their telomeres.” He grabbed a bottle of scotch from the flightron’s tray and plopped into the seat next to Tara. “I’m exhausted.”
“I should only go out in public with Cillian or Callum. Everyone is afraid of Cillian, and no one asks Callum for anything. Would you like a glass with that?”
We finally managed to get into the air. “We’ve got about an hour to kill,” said Battlequeen Escharton. “Would anyone like to see my new aquatic armor? It’s made from the latest waterwear chainmail.”
“It’s a bit brazen,” said Claris. “Is she trying to show off her armaments or her fortifications?”
“She is well-buttressed,” said Clive. “Why do these aristocratic vacations always seem like exorbitantly expensive university holidays?”
One of the SSOps agents stood and called for quiet. Several times. No one took him seriously. “I have an important announcement to make,” he cried.
“I think Agent Moyles has an important announcement to make,” said the Archon. Everyone fell silent.
“Earth is at war,” he announced.
“With us?” said Lord Danak.
“No, not with us.”
“Oh, that’s okay then,” said the battlequeen. “CenGov declares war every five minutes.”
“It’s more than that. CenGov massacred an encampment of pro-Archonist supporters, and it’s turned into an all-out rebellion. Apparently, Archonanarchists now have control of a large section of Lunabase.”
“What?” shouted Clive, leaping out of his seat violently enough to scatter a basket of unonion-butter puddins. “The revolution has finally come, and I’m not there? Let me out of this flyer!”
“Parachuting over the Sea of Illusion, while laden with drama, is unlikely to get you closer to Earth,” said Tara. “So just sit down and have a julep.”
“I need my head clear for this,” said Clive. “Which of my old allies can I contact? We’ll need to leave as soon as we touch ground. Is the Battlequeen Emmeris docked back at the capital?”
“It’s the Hoochie Mama now,” I said. “Battlequeen Emmeris was a little stodgy for my tastes.”
“Wait,” said Claris. “I don’t know whether I’m more confounded and appalled by the fact that Clive intends to abandon me and go running back to an almost certain death on a planet that scorned him, or that the bimbo seriously named her ship the Hoochie Mama.”
“You wouldn’t understand,” he said icily. “Earth is the homeworld. What happens to Earth is of paramount importance. Right Suzanna?”
“Huh?”
He was giving me his superior attitude, and I hated it. It’s one of the reasons I dumped him. “We feel in our blood that we must fight for the freedom of Earth,” he continued.
“The only thing my blood is feeling right now is a rising alcohol level. Flightron, can I have another julep?”
Clive stood again. “Isn’t any of you cretins capable of a moment’s seriousness?” he yelled. “After fifteen hundred years of tyranny, Earth is about to overthrow the yoke of oppression. Surely, that concerns all of you in a deep and significant fashion.”
“What do you expect us to do about it?” asked Ailann genially. “I can’t leave the Domha’vei.”
“Commit troops! Dedicate the vast wealth of this system to the greatest cause of our lifetime!”
“You want me to throw away our money and the lives of my people on a war that’s really none of our business?”
Clive’s jaw jutted like a steel bulkhead. His eyes narrowed. “It is your business,” he said. “The rebels are Archonists.”
The Archon considered. “Lord Danak, issue a statement that all Archonist refugees from Earth be granted immediate citizenship. Have them report to Eirelantra, and we’ll decide where to send them from there.”
“Your Eminence,” replied Danak, “It’s not beyond imagining that some of them were cybridized before they came to enlightenment.”
The Archon leaned his head wearily against the pillowed neck-rest, closing his eyes. “I’ll deal with it. As long as we’re not looking at thousands, I’ll change the machinery in their bodies back to living flesh as a sign of my forgiveness.”
Clive blinked rapidly. “That’s it? That’s so stupidly unhelpful it astounds me. Forget the damn cybridization. It’s not important! Freedom is important!”
“Cybridization is heresy,” said Lord Danak. “That belief is older, and, dare I say it, stronger than Archonism.”
“They can be free here,” said Tara. “Free, and have a full stomach, and all of their limbs intact. Earth is our past, not our future.”
Clive slumped. “You’ll never understand. You weren’t born there. But Suzanna and I, we have to go home.”
I turned to him in alarm. “You seriously think I’m going back to Earth to get myself shot to pieces in a bloody war instead of going to Chalkolo to get a suntan?”
“Aren’t you?”
“Well…no.”
“Useless! Every last one of you, useless!”
Premma pointed at Clive and said, “Be quiet. Dobergator.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but you really need to sit down now,” said the flightron. “The flyer is about to land.”
Clive pointed back at Premma. “Is she the Matriarch now? What the fuck is going on?”
“I am never going to live that down, am I?” said the Archon, taking a swig directly from the bottle.
“That’s what you get for listening to Lorcan,” said Tara.
*****
The instant the flyer landed, Clive was up, grabbing his carryon luggage from the compartment below the seat. “Bye,” said Claris sulkily. “Good riddance.”
“You’re better off without him,” I said. “Trust me.”
Clive ran down the gangway and directly into a sea of journalists, papis and miracle-seekers. “Save us!” somebody screamed. “A statement about the situation on Earth,” another cried.
“He’s going to be ripped apart like Orpheus,” said Tara. “Serves him right.”
Ailann stood, downing the rest of the bottle. “I’d better go.”
“Your Eminence,” said Lord Danak, rising with a worried expression.
“Don’t worry, Danak, I’ll be sober by the time I hit the landing field. And I’ll think of something to say before Rivers is mauled to death.”
Tara looked out the window. “The weather is incredible,” she said. “It’s going to be a great vacation, I know it.”