There were no Terran mosquitos on Kaereal. The tiny blood sucking pests didn’t live very long. It was something about the chemistry of the air. The poisonous gasses in the Wilds were filtered at higher altitudes. Non harmful to humanoids high above and exposed to sunlight, but the chemistry meant instant death to Terran mosquitos.
Despite her planet’s lack of mosquitos and having only experienced their bites on rare occasions, Calysta knew they gathered in great swarms. They buzzed and pecked, drawing blood where they could sink their needle-like noses into flesh.
The reporters reminded her distinctly of mosquitos looking for a bite as they swarmed around Illya after her speech. Everyone wanted a taste and there were too many of them to escape without answering a few questions. She didn’t get to hear much of the questioning. Snippets of the conversation were carried over the hum of dinner and chattering guests. She did hear some of it.
A woman asking if their marriage was...open? A flash of indignation hit her and her cheeks heated up. Was this woman seriously asking if she was in an open marriage? From a Urian perspective, it wasn’t such a strange question, but it made her want to go over there and show the reporter just how unopen their relationship was.
Before she could make it over to Illya, her husband was holding up his left hand, displaying his wedding ring for all to see. “One ring, one woman. Dere es no room for oter women in dis relationship and dere will certainly be no oter men.”
Calysta stopped in her tracks for a moment, fighting the urge to walk over and kiss him squarely on the lips. He had cleared it up, leaving no doubt whatsoever.
The reporters chuckled almost in unison over the comment. That was going to great material for their articles. She was glad for it too. Everyone could know he wasn’t planning on bedding, loving, or marrying anyone else but her. The woman forged ahead with a question about his age and if he had been married before.
Calysta continued walking forward and the reporter swarm parted, dispersing slightly to allow her access to the General. He didn like talking about Isla, not in that sense anyways. It was none of their business. If she intervened, it would give him a good excuse not to answer that question.
Her entry looked to be well timed. He turned to her without missing a beat and offered his hand, asking her to dance. “Aye,” she nodded, “ I would very much enjoy the honor of the first dance with you.” To her surprise, he bowed slightly. It was something a Chip would never do, or so she thought. Calysta smiled broadly and bent at the waist a little in return. “Well met, General.”
She heard the whirrings of hologram coins picking up the scene from every angle, but the moment he swept her up into the drum beat she forgot all about them. The reporters melted away and her only concern was keeping her expression school into a look of enjoyment but not total enamor like she felt.
Illya guided her around the dance floor and seeing him in uniform as they danced reminded her very much of their wedding night. He didn’t look as if 10 years had passed at all. She moved with him, her black skirts flowing behind her and hiding the fact that her feet hardly touched the ground. When two songs had passed, he sat her down gently and gave her a nod. It took her a moment to realize that it was time for the next part of the program. A ceremonial dance that the elite would take part in, including Illya.
Calysta blinked a few times, then nodded and stepped back to her seat, allowing Illya to do what he needed to.
The drums going silent alerted some of the guests that something else was happening besides general partying but not all of them picked up on the cue. Some of them were still up and chatting, drinks in hand or at the food spots when Edgar motioned for the dance floor to be cleared and the walls of the tents raised. At that, people began milling around trying to make it to their seats or leaned over their programs to find whatever was happening next. TRADITIONAL CEREMONIAL DANCE was written in several languages on the program.
Sarai read the words and the handsome Commander Swyft seated nearby pointed to the same spot on the pamphlet, leaning closer to his Terran wife. The commander was a striking gentleman with grey beginning to streak his hair in earnest. She wondered vaguely if his wife would allow him another partner for a night or two. The thought vanished abruptly with a hot flash and she fanned herself with the pamphlet trying to find relief. The relief didn’t last long though, another drum beat started and there was a whoosh of air. Suddenly, the General himself was flipping in a graceful arc of the table.
The matriarch’s eyes went wide with appreciation and she felt her pulse thump hard as the General swept over her, past her, and leaving behind a well starched and molded beret in his wake. She plucked the beret up like a maiden plucking a flower and smoothed it out before placing the item gently on her lap. He would just have to come find that little item when he was done.
The handstand lasted only a drum beat before the general was on his feet again, drawing his sword and bellowing into the evening air. The move was accompanied by other shouts of startle and surprise around the open air tent as 50 other men were backlit in the field.
The Elite took into the fields in their uniforms and swords drawn. Several guests gasped in shock, making twitching moves as if to flee for a moment, but nobody ran or left the tent. They were in too much awe after that.
The acrobatics and dance style were like war and grace married into one cohesive set. The Elite, even bound in their formal attire, were agile. Tikan’s flickering hologram grinned in delight and while his audio had been tuned down, the guests nearby could hear his woot of approval.
“Surely they aren’t real swords?” Jessie whispered to her husband, eyes wide at the men, “They’re the biggest swords I’ve ever seen….it’s a little scary…”
Swyft patted his wife’s hand. She had been a nervous wreck the last few days because of their son and it hadn’t taken much to make her jump. Lack of sleep did that to a person. Then he gave her a rare but somewhat amused side-long grin. “If you think that’s scary ...you haven’t seen the women come marching in with a sword.”
Alliance General Kirit was sitting close by in full dress uniform, looking at the display with his usual stoic expression. The impassive brown eyes only broke their unwavering attention long enough to wander over his agreed for a brief moment. When she looked so pretty, his agreed was a constant and most welcome distraction.
“The swords are no’ blunted,” he said calmly.
One of his lieutenants piped in. “There’s no way they would use real blades. That’s crazy.”
General Kirit raised a singular brow at the lieutenant. “Aye, that’s th’ price of perfection. But if ye don’t believe m’ I’ll take a wager.”
“How much?” his lieutenant said, looking confident.
“I don’t need ye credits,” Kirit said simply, “Ye lose, ye come clean m’ house for a week an’ ye do whatever chores m’ agreed asks of ye.”
The Kaerelean lieutenant bowed in agreement. “I’ll take that bet, sir.”
Kirit’s eyes flickered briefly to his wife and the smallest of smiles creased his neatly kept beard, before he turned his attention back to the Elite dancing.
Similar questions were rippling through the crowd but they all faded to stunned silence when a sword arched close to the Emperor General himself. There wasn’t even a sound as the blade separated a piece of his red sash that had rippled through the air moments before. The dissected red silk fluttered to the ground and took all the breath out of the tent with it. Apparently, the swords were not blunted.
The whole air of the tent changed in an instant. Gasps of fear and heavy breaths of anticipation followed every close sword swing. Eventually, the General met up with one of the most decorated and handsome of the 50 men. They mirrored each other’s moves in perfect time.
The Emperor General took down man after man as if it were no more than breathing air to him. Then a final man charged the leader, sword up and had no intention of slowing down. A few cries of warning flared up from the otherwise deadly quiet crowd. The attacker fell to his knees and slid across the ground just as the General’s sword came within a centimeter of his throat.
Everyone stared as the scene paused, the General looking down the length of his sword at his own man less than an inch from death. The image seemed to hover there for a moment, brought to a head by the pounding of the drum beats before it was broken by the General barking out another command.
His orders were swiftly followed and all 50 of his men were lined up in less than 3 seconds. The drums were at a fever pitch when another light shone on the field. This time a long post had been set into the ground. Attached to that long post was a man in a Federation uniform, gagged and defenseless.
Another cry of alarm flared up from some in the crowd as the Emperor General launched forward, severing the head from the body in one clean motion. His second in command sheared open the chest, much to the crowds shock. One by one, the men ran by with their blades to further mutilate the corpse until the heart was left pinned to the wooden stake. With every perfect slice, the crowd descended further into shocked silence as crimson blood spurted from the very dead man on the post.
Calysta watched the scene as if all were perfectly fine, but her fingernails were dug so far in her palms that uncurling her fists under the table hurt. More than several sets of eyes had turned to her, waiting for her to react to the bloody display, but Edgar and Tiel began to speak, turning their attention away.
“.... Since we know dat our friends in dah Alliance dun approve of execution we use life like mannequin dressed as Federation. Dis es tah symbolic of our devotion tah dah Alliance and ets safety. We will see dat dah Federation es destroyed, but we will do et witin confines of Alliance law.”
With the purpose of the dance explained, and that the corpse had only been a mannequin, the uneasiness in the crowd abated some but the awkward silence prevailed. Nobody quite knew how to react to such a bloody display. Attention flipped right back to her and she knew this was not something she could mess up or stay quiet on.
Calysta rose to her feet with her glass in her hand. The lights turned on her, making her feel very much alone in a ring of fiery white light. Slowly, she turned to Edgar and his apprentice, since both were representatives of their people for the moment, and bowed at the waist before rising up and lifting her glass.
“I would like to thank you on behalf of the home planet for allowing us to experience such a display of Chippeqouti tradition and for such a display of devotion to our Alliance. I am moved and impressed by such deep devotion to our people’s safety and laws.”
Then she raised her cup higher, allowing a pause long enough for others to get the idea that a toast was going to be made. “To our devoted and honorable allies in thanks for their hospitality and good will.”
Calysta inched the cup higher and heard the crowd quickly picking up their own glasses before the sounds of approval began. She drank deeply from the cup and smiled when she was done. Tikan’s holographic form let out an enthusiastic cheer as the man began clapping. A wave of applause broke out for the dance and for the toast all in one, growing into a thunderous sound until the drumbeats announced the end of the dance portion of the program.
Calysta gave a small wave and the spot light faded from her. Blinking away the floating colors in her eyes, she looked around, hoping to find Illya but had no idea where he had gone. Perhaps he had gone to clean up? He had been splattered by some of that too realistic blood. He wouldn’t be able to walk around with that on him for the rest of the night.
It took almost 15 minutes for Illya to emerge clean and walking toward the dance floor. Calysta smiled when she saw him. She had just about made up her mind to go and ask about where he had gone, more out of worry for him than anything else.
She put down her cup and began to float towards his direction, but she was stopped by Tikan. The chief wanted to talk and he was always good natured. His hologram limited what he could see of the party and he had no idea that she had been heading toward the Emperor General. She spoke with him briefly and gladly accepted an invitation to hunt with him. After dismissing herself, she turned to find an Ewenian delegate waiting for an opportunity to speak.
It was easy to tell Ewenians apart from Kintenites or Reylians. They all had pale, delicat skin and deep black hair that almost had a purple sheen to it. They also wore soft robes spun from weeds that grew at the bottoms of their lakes and allowed themselves a broader range of color. This Ewenian delegate had come to Pyrta in person, which was surprising on its own, but being approached put Calysta on alert for whatever might be said.
“Councilwoman Monroe,” she said in a soft, flowing accent, “I know we have not met in person, though we have worked together for several years. I wanted to take the chance to introduce myself in person.”
They exchanged bows and Calysta nodded. “I am pleased to meet you in person, Delegate Grys. I hope you are finding Pyrta welcoming.”
The delicate woman, only a little taller than Calysta, nodded. “Aye. I have been most welcome. I am looking forward to your visit to Ewen as well.”
Calysta tilted her head some. “I am glad we will be welcomed there with the utmost honor and dignity then.”
They both knew the subtext. Grys, while not a purist, was struggling on her home continent with purist movements. It wasn’t unexpected, but they both knew that her arrival would create a stir. This was yet another attempt for Grys to assure her that there would be no issues on Ewen. It was a personal guarantee from the woman.
“Aye, Councilwoman.” Grys bowed again and then retreated into the crowd. Calysta found herself grateful that none of the meeting had taken pictures of that exchange. All she needed was to stir the hornets before she made it to their nest.
By the time she was free enough to find Illya again, he had already been snapped up into Sarai’s arms for a dance. She was looking very much like a Chip in her flowing red gowns and there was an urge to go interrupt the dance. It would be rude to do that and look too possessive though, even if she could do it as Councilwoman. She gave Sarai her moment in the sun, then when two or three songs had passed, she entered the floor and gave the matriarch a friendly pat on the shoulder, chin held high. “I think I would like to have a last dance with the General before the night is over, matriarch. Thank you for stepping in while I attended to business.”
Sarai had no choice but to relinquish her hold on Illya’s arm and allow Calysta to step up. Calysta offered her arm out to Illya with a muted nod. “Shall we have a last dance, General?” He never refused a good dance with her, and she smiled before allowing him to take them into the drum beat.
************
Even with the pillow it had taken her at least an hour to settle into some sort of sleep. She plumped up the silky pillow and laid her head on it, hand draped over the front. It was how she normally slept tucked next to Illya. Some people might have avoided sleeping so close to their partners, but Calysta liked being close now. Plus, Illya’s weight dipped their mattress so deep that she ended up rolling up next to him anyways. It was far easier and more comforting to lay right next to him than to constantly work against gravity.
Tonight there wasn’t any dip in the mattress though and the only thing that felt like home was the pillow that did, in fact, smell like Illya’s oils. She shamelessly dropped her face into the fluffy pillow and hugged it closer as she slowly drifted off.
She had been asleep a little less than two hours when a soft knock echoed at the door. Who was at her door? Ehvan announced himself and she crawled out of bed, rubbing her eyes and patting around for her robe. When she opened the door, the light of the hallway against the darkness of her room made her flinch slightly.
“I tink yah may want tah show yah support. One of dah Elite es ill. Dey are transported to dah hospital…”
His comment sloughed away most of her sleepiness and her eyes widened. “Aye?”
‘“I believe that the Empress would insist that I take her if her agreed had seizures.”
The next statement jolted her awake like lightning striking an unsuspecting tree. “Aye,” she said, “You’d be right. Two minutes. We leave in two minutes.”
If Illya had a seizure so bad he had gone to the hospital it was a serious one. Had someone found him and given him the medicine? She dashed into the room and grabbed up her bag, dumping the contents on the bed. In one minute she was wearing pants and a tunic. In the next, she was hopping one footed into her boots. She didn't bother with a bralette or makeup. It would take too much time to put on and she was flat chested anyways.
The flight to the hospital was short but so silent it made the less than 10 minute glider time feel like an hour. As soon as she arrived, the nurses directed her where to go and Ehvan joined her in walking down the halls as her escort. They met up with Bahn who poked his head out of the room just as they arrived.
Illya laid in the hospital bed and several of the Elite were there. At one point, she might have been shy about approaching Illya and showing affection in front of so many people. She knew these men though, and she’d said more embarrassing things in front of them before at this point, like asking for pillows from her husband’s bed.
Calysta looked him over and slid her hand under his. Seizures were something they had thought were under control for the most part. Maybe it was stress? The men were muttering about poison and a security breach. They would have known if it was Wilds poison. The results would have shown up immediately on any blood work or scan. Then again, he was Chip and she had seen him pluck out poison sacks from his skin as if they were just pimples. What if it had been poison though? Worry ate her stomach as she smoothed his hair and kissed his temple before settling into a chair close to his bed. Until the doctor got there, she wouldn’t know anything for sure.
After what seemed like decades the doctor arrived and announced the problem in the matter of fact way all Ehaui spoke. It had been an infection from the bone marrow harvest. Her brow wrinkled in concern. He had done that without hesitation to save Swyft’s son, and then dealt with everything from the party on top of that. It made her struggles with the night pale in comparison. At least it wasn’t poison though.
The rest of the men were relieved and the story of what to say about this sudden trip to the hospital was relayed through the ranks. There would be a solid story and it would be private enough for them. Calysta listened to the nurses instructions about the medicine and labeled each one with a note from her pad.
“Aye, would you do one more thing for me?” Calysta said, “I would like a list of balanced meals or a meal plan for a Chip. Please. I can have it sent to my pad if that’s easiest.” Perhaps that was something she should have done years ago. Chips were different from Kaereleans after all. They burned fat a little differently and Chippeqouti had so much muscle mass to keep up, it was hard to find a balanced diet. She would just have to make sure he was getting what he needed to prevent any more infections.
The nurse obliged and then vanished to go take care of whatever else needed to be done. Roughly an hour later, Illya woke up. He was usually disoriented after a seizure but the grumpy look on his face told her he was aware enough to know where he was. Her Chip let out an irritated grumble of air and tugged at his blankets before flopping his head over. His bright green eyes landed on her and she smiled at him.
That sent him sputtering a bit and she reached out, putting a hand on him gently. “Of course, I would be here. You think I’m going to let being a foreign dignitary keep me from coming to you? Not a chance. It’s alright about the message. We’ll go home soon as you’re cleared, yeah?”
The way home was quiet as well. Calysta had only a few hours sleep and she was sure Illya was exhausted too. She poked her head over Illya’s elbow to read an article Edgar had sent to him. It was a publication she had seen before. Mostly in salons and tea houses. Priscilla read it from time to time too. Articles like this would happen frequently now, but it didn’t keep her from bristling at some of the comments made about her husband. They had practically blasted the information about their relationship everywhere and they didn’t even know Illya! “You were a fine Emperor,” she said, her teeth grinding slightly, “You are as good an Emperor as you are General. This reporter can drop a load into the-”
A sound ahead of them cut off her words and she looked up to find another swarm of reporters. “How in the wilds did they catch up with us so fast?” Of course, that didn’t matter. They would buzz around until they got whatever scoop they wanted and then twisted it. Illya had the right idea. It was time to run. “Let’s go.”
If there was ever a moment she felt like a rabbit with a fox on her heels, this was it. The reporters locked on and she twitched like a hare for half a second as some immutable and vestigial instinct took over. Prey recognizes the predator.
Then they dove into a side street that cut across the main square. Illya was faster than she was thanks to his longer legs, but she lengthened her strides into a half-run and kept up with him. As they approached the bisecting street, a few of the reporters could be seen emerging from the parallel alleyways. Why were they so persistent this early in the morning? “ They saw us! Go two streets down, then to the left.”
“Wait! Councilwoman! We just have a few questions! Please wait!”
They begged for them to stop and do an interview. There was no way she was going to do that without a bra on and on two hours of sleep. They had a schedule to adhere on top of everything else. Anger flared up and she had half a mind to simply top in the street and order them to go away. How ridiculous it was that they couldn’t even go home in peace!?
Illya followed the path and it led them to the backside of the neighbors house with several reporters hot on their tail. The gate to the high fence opened up and the elderly woman, Sylva, beckoned Illya into the backyard. “Come..come! In here. You can lose them and hop the fence between our yards when they’re gone!”
Calysta knew they were coming down the alley right behind them and they weren’t liable to get through the locked gate without the reporters catching. The scaling the fence would get them some great hologram material too.
She looked at Illya when Sylva beckoned to them. “Any better ideas?”
*******
Dear Diary,
It’s my third day on Kaereal. Harry promised that he would bring me home as soon as he could, but things are heating up rather than cooling down. I don’t know when I will be able to go home. I wish I was with him. Right now it’s midnight in Japan. He would be having tea and we would be in bed, unless I convinced him to join me for some midnight ice cream. You can’t get Moosetracks on the rural little continent I’m on right now. In fact, Terran dairy is hard to come by at all.
As small and foreign as it is, I am grateful to the Monroes for allowing me to stay with them. When I first met them, I wasn’t sure if I could trust them. Harry though, Harry always tries to give people a chance. I admire that about him. What happened on Terra made me trust them at least. They could have simply left us behind.
I think to pass the time and to repay their kindness, I think I will help in their yard. It looks awful with tramped down mud everywhere. Maybe I will plant some Kaerelean varieties and I’ve seen roses doing well here too. I always liked yellow roses, maybe the Monroes will appreciate them too…..
Despite her planet’s lack of mosquitos and having only experienced their bites on rare occasions, Calysta knew they gathered in great swarms. They buzzed and pecked, drawing blood where they could sink their needle-like noses into flesh.
The reporters reminded her distinctly of mosquitos looking for a bite as they swarmed around Illya after her speech. Everyone wanted a taste and there were too many of them to escape without answering a few questions. She didn’t get to hear much of the questioning. Snippets of the conversation were carried over the hum of dinner and chattering guests. She did hear some of it.
A woman asking if their marriage was...open? A flash of indignation hit her and her cheeks heated up. Was this woman seriously asking if she was in an open marriage? From a Urian perspective, it wasn’t such a strange question, but it made her want to go over there and show the reporter just how unopen their relationship was.
Before she could make it over to Illya, her husband was holding up his left hand, displaying his wedding ring for all to see. “One ring, one woman. Dere es no room for oter women in dis relationship and dere will certainly be no oter men.”
Calysta stopped in her tracks for a moment, fighting the urge to walk over and kiss him squarely on the lips. He had cleared it up, leaving no doubt whatsoever.
The reporters chuckled almost in unison over the comment. That was going to great material for their articles. She was glad for it too. Everyone could know he wasn’t planning on bedding, loving, or marrying anyone else but her. The woman forged ahead with a question about his age and if he had been married before.
Calysta continued walking forward and the reporter swarm parted, dispersing slightly to allow her access to the General. He didn like talking about Isla, not in that sense anyways. It was none of their business. If she intervened, it would give him a good excuse not to answer that question.
Her entry looked to be well timed. He turned to her without missing a beat and offered his hand, asking her to dance. “Aye,” she nodded, “ I would very much enjoy the honor of the first dance with you.” To her surprise, he bowed slightly. It was something a Chip would never do, or so she thought. Calysta smiled broadly and bent at the waist a little in return. “Well met, General.”
She heard the whirrings of hologram coins picking up the scene from every angle, but the moment he swept her up into the drum beat she forgot all about them. The reporters melted away and her only concern was keeping her expression school into a look of enjoyment but not total enamor like she felt.
Illya guided her around the dance floor and seeing him in uniform as they danced reminded her very much of their wedding night. He didn’t look as if 10 years had passed at all. She moved with him, her black skirts flowing behind her and hiding the fact that her feet hardly touched the ground. When two songs had passed, he sat her down gently and gave her a nod. It took her a moment to realize that it was time for the next part of the program. A ceremonial dance that the elite would take part in, including Illya.
Calysta blinked a few times, then nodded and stepped back to her seat, allowing Illya to do what he needed to.
The drums going silent alerted some of the guests that something else was happening besides general partying but not all of them picked up on the cue. Some of them were still up and chatting, drinks in hand or at the food spots when Edgar motioned for the dance floor to be cleared and the walls of the tents raised. At that, people began milling around trying to make it to their seats or leaned over their programs to find whatever was happening next. TRADITIONAL CEREMONIAL DANCE was written in several languages on the program.
Sarai read the words and the handsome Commander Swyft seated nearby pointed to the same spot on the pamphlet, leaning closer to his Terran wife. The commander was a striking gentleman with grey beginning to streak his hair in earnest. She wondered vaguely if his wife would allow him another partner for a night or two. The thought vanished abruptly with a hot flash and she fanned herself with the pamphlet trying to find relief. The relief didn’t last long though, another drum beat started and there was a whoosh of air. Suddenly, the General himself was flipping in a graceful arc of the table.
The matriarch’s eyes went wide with appreciation and she felt her pulse thump hard as the General swept over her, past her, and leaving behind a well starched and molded beret in his wake. She plucked the beret up like a maiden plucking a flower and smoothed it out before placing the item gently on her lap. He would just have to come find that little item when he was done.
The handstand lasted only a drum beat before the general was on his feet again, drawing his sword and bellowing into the evening air. The move was accompanied by other shouts of startle and surprise around the open air tent as 50 other men were backlit in the field.
The Elite took into the fields in their uniforms and swords drawn. Several guests gasped in shock, making twitching moves as if to flee for a moment, but nobody ran or left the tent. They were in too much awe after that.
The acrobatics and dance style were like war and grace married into one cohesive set. The Elite, even bound in their formal attire, were agile. Tikan’s flickering hologram grinned in delight and while his audio had been tuned down, the guests nearby could hear his woot of approval.
“Surely they aren’t real swords?” Jessie whispered to her husband, eyes wide at the men, “They’re the biggest swords I’ve ever seen….it’s a little scary…”
Swyft patted his wife’s hand. She had been a nervous wreck the last few days because of their son and it hadn’t taken much to make her jump. Lack of sleep did that to a person. Then he gave her a rare but somewhat amused side-long grin. “If you think that’s scary ...you haven’t seen the women come marching in with a sword.”
Alliance General Kirit was sitting close by in full dress uniform, looking at the display with his usual stoic expression. The impassive brown eyes only broke their unwavering attention long enough to wander over his agreed for a brief moment. When she looked so pretty, his agreed was a constant and most welcome distraction.
“The swords are no’ blunted,” he said calmly.
One of his lieutenants piped in. “There’s no way they would use real blades. That’s crazy.”
General Kirit raised a singular brow at the lieutenant. “Aye, that’s th’ price of perfection. But if ye don’t believe m’ I’ll take a wager.”
“How much?” his lieutenant said, looking confident.
“I don’t need ye credits,” Kirit said simply, “Ye lose, ye come clean m’ house for a week an’ ye do whatever chores m’ agreed asks of ye.”
The Kaerelean lieutenant bowed in agreement. “I’ll take that bet, sir.”
Kirit’s eyes flickered briefly to his wife and the smallest of smiles creased his neatly kept beard, before he turned his attention back to the Elite dancing.
Similar questions were rippling through the crowd but they all faded to stunned silence when a sword arched close to the Emperor General himself. There wasn’t even a sound as the blade separated a piece of his red sash that had rippled through the air moments before. The dissected red silk fluttered to the ground and took all the breath out of the tent with it. Apparently, the swords were not blunted.
The whole air of the tent changed in an instant. Gasps of fear and heavy breaths of anticipation followed every close sword swing. Eventually, the General met up with one of the most decorated and handsome of the 50 men. They mirrored each other’s moves in perfect time.
The Emperor General took down man after man as if it were no more than breathing air to him. Then a final man charged the leader, sword up and had no intention of slowing down. A few cries of warning flared up from the otherwise deadly quiet crowd. The attacker fell to his knees and slid across the ground just as the General’s sword came within a centimeter of his throat.
Everyone stared as the scene paused, the General looking down the length of his sword at his own man less than an inch from death. The image seemed to hover there for a moment, brought to a head by the pounding of the drum beats before it was broken by the General barking out another command.
His orders were swiftly followed and all 50 of his men were lined up in less than 3 seconds. The drums were at a fever pitch when another light shone on the field. This time a long post had been set into the ground. Attached to that long post was a man in a Federation uniform, gagged and defenseless.
Another cry of alarm flared up from some in the crowd as the Emperor General launched forward, severing the head from the body in one clean motion. His second in command sheared open the chest, much to the crowds shock. One by one, the men ran by with their blades to further mutilate the corpse until the heart was left pinned to the wooden stake. With every perfect slice, the crowd descended further into shocked silence as crimson blood spurted from the very dead man on the post.
Calysta watched the scene as if all were perfectly fine, but her fingernails were dug so far in her palms that uncurling her fists under the table hurt. More than several sets of eyes had turned to her, waiting for her to react to the bloody display, but Edgar and Tiel began to speak, turning their attention away.
“.... Since we know dat our friends in dah Alliance dun approve of execution we use life like mannequin dressed as Federation. Dis es tah symbolic of our devotion tah dah Alliance and ets safety. We will see dat dah Federation es destroyed, but we will do et witin confines of Alliance law.”
With the purpose of the dance explained, and that the corpse had only been a mannequin, the uneasiness in the crowd abated some but the awkward silence prevailed. Nobody quite knew how to react to such a bloody display. Attention flipped right back to her and she knew this was not something she could mess up or stay quiet on.
Calysta rose to her feet with her glass in her hand. The lights turned on her, making her feel very much alone in a ring of fiery white light. Slowly, she turned to Edgar and his apprentice, since both were representatives of their people for the moment, and bowed at the waist before rising up and lifting her glass.
“I would like to thank you on behalf of the home planet for allowing us to experience such a display of Chippeqouti tradition and for such a display of devotion to our Alliance. I am moved and impressed by such deep devotion to our people’s safety and laws.”
Then she raised her cup higher, allowing a pause long enough for others to get the idea that a toast was going to be made. “To our devoted and honorable allies in thanks for their hospitality and good will.”
Calysta inched the cup higher and heard the crowd quickly picking up their own glasses before the sounds of approval began. She drank deeply from the cup and smiled when she was done. Tikan’s holographic form let out an enthusiastic cheer as the man began clapping. A wave of applause broke out for the dance and for the toast all in one, growing into a thunderous sound until the drumbeats announced the end of the dance portion of the program.
Calysta gave a small wave and the spot light faded from her. Blinking away the floating colors in her eyes, she looked around, hoping to find Illya but had no idea where he had gone. Perhaps he had gone to clean up? He had been splattered by some of that too realistic blood. He wouldn’t be able to walk around with that on him for the rest of the night.
It took almost 15 minutes for Illya to emerge clean and walking toward the dance floor. Calysta smiled when she saw him. She had just about made up her mind to go and ask about where he had gone, more out of worry for him than anything else.
She put down her cup and began to float towards his direction, but she was stopped by Tikan. The chief wanted to talk and he was always good natured. His hologram limited what he could see of the party and he had no idea that she had been heading toward the Emperor General. She spoke with him briefly and gladly accepted an invitation to hunt with him. After dismissing herself, she turned to find an Ewenian delegate waiting for an opportunity to speak.
It was easy to tell Ewenians apart from Kintenites or Reylians. They all had pale, delicat skin and deep black hair that almost had a purple sheen to it. They also wore soft robes spun from weeds that grew at the bottoms of their lakes and allowed themselves a broader range of color. This Ewenian delegate had come to Pyrta in person, which was surprising on its own, but being approached put Calysta on alert for whatever might be said.
“Councilwoman Monroe,” she said in a soft, flowing accent, “I know we have not met in person, though we have worked together for several years. I wanted to take the chance to introduce myself in person.”
They exchanged bows and Calysta nodded. “I am pleased to meet you in person, Delegate Grys. I hope you are finding Pyrta welcoming.”
The delicate woman, only a little taller than Calysta, nodded. “Aye. I have been most welcome. I am looking forward to your visit to Ewen as well.”
Calysta tilted her head some. “I am glad we will be welcomed there with the utmost honor and dignity then.”
They both knew the subtext. Grys, while not a purist, was struggling on her home continent with purist movements. It wasn’t unexpected, but they both knew that her arrival would create a stir. This was yet another attempt for Grys to assure her that there would be no issues on Ewen. It was a personal guarantee from the woman.
“Aye, Councilwoman.” Grys bowed again and then retreated into the crowd. Calysta found herself grateful that none of the meeting had taken pictures of that exchange. All she needed was to stir the hornets before she made it to their nest.
By the time she was free enough to find Illya again, he had already been snapped up into Sarai’s arms for a dance. She was looking very much like a Chip in her flowing red gowns and there was an urge to go interrupt the dance. It would be rude to do that and look too possessive though, even if she could do it as Councilwoman. She gave Sarai her moment in the sun, then when two or three songs had passed, she entered the floor and gave the matriarch a friendly pat on the shoulder, chin held high. “I think I would like to have a last dance with the General before the night is over, matriarch. Thank you for stepping in while I attended to business.”
Sarai had no choice but to relinquish her hold on Illya’s arm and allow Calysta to step up. Calysta offered her arm out to Illya with a muted nod. “Shall we have a last dance, General?” He never refused a good dance with her, and she smiled before allowing him to take them into the drum beat.
************
Even with the pillow it had taken her at least an hour to settle into some sort of sleep. She plumped up the silky pillow and laid her head on it, hand draped over the front. It was how she normally slept tucked next to Illya. Some people might have avoided sleeping so close to their partners, but Calysta liked being close now. Plus, Illya’s weight dipped their mattress so deep that she ended up rolling up next to him anyways. It was far easier and more comforting to lay right next to him than to constantly work against gravity.
Tonight there wasn’t any dip in the mattress though and the only thing that felt like home was the pillow that did, in fact, smell like Illya’s oils. She shamelessly dropped her face into the fluffy pillow and hugged it closer as she slowly drifted off.
She had been asleep a little less than two hours when a soft knock echoed at the door. Who was at her door? Ehvan announced himself and she crawled out of bed, rubbing her eyes and patting around for her robe. When she opened the door, the light of the hallway against the darkness of her room made her flinch slightly.
“I tink yah may want tah show yah support. One of dah Elite es ill. Dey are transported to dah hospital…”
His comment sloughed away most of her sleepiness and her eyes widened. “Aye?”
‘“I believe that the Empress would insist that I take her if her agreed had seizures.”
The next statement jolted her awake like lightning striking an unsuspecting tree. “Aye,” she said, “You’d be right. Two minutes. We leave in two minutes.”
If Illya had a seizure so bad he had gone to the hospital it was a serious one. Had someone found him and given him the medicine? She dashed into the room and grabbed up her bag, dumping the contents on the bed. In one minute she was wearing pants and a tunic. In the next, she was hopping one footed into her boots. She didn't bother with a bralette or makeup. It would take too much time to put on and she was flat chested anyways.
The flight to the hospital was short but so silent it made the less than 10 minute glider time feel like an hour. As soon as she arrived, the nurses directed her where to go and Ehvan joined her in walking down the halls as her escort. They met up with Bahn who poked his head out of the room just as they arrived.
Illya laid in the hospital bed and several of the Elite were there. At one point, she might have been shy about approaching Illya and showing affection in front of so many people. She knew these men though, and she’d said more embarrassing things in front of them before at this point, like asking for pillows from her husband’s bed.
Calysta looked him over and slid her hand under his. Seizures were something they had thought were under control for the most part. Maybe it was stress? The men were muttering about poison and a security breach. They would have known if it was Wilds poison. The results would have shown up immediately on any blood work or scan. Then again, he was Chip and she had seen him pluck out poison sacks from his skin as if they were just pimples. What if it had been poison though? Worry ate her stomach as she smoothed his hair and kissed his temple before settling into a chair close to his bed. Until the doctor got there, she wouldn’t know anything for sure.
After what seemed like decades the doctor arrived and announced the problem in the matter of fact way all Ehaui spoke. It had been an infection from the bone marrow harvest. Her brow wrinkled in concern. He had done that without hesitation to save Swyft’s son, and then dealt with everything from the party on top of that. It made her struggles with the night pale in comparison. At least it wasn’t poison though.
The rest of the men were relieved and the story of what to say about this sudden trip to the hospital was relayed through the ranks. There would be a solid story and it would be private enough for them. Calysta listened to the nurses instructions about the medicine and labeled each one with a note from her pad.
“Aye, would you do one more thing for me?” Calysta said, “I would like a list of balanced meals or a meal plan for a Chip. Please. I can have it sent to my pad if that’s easiest.” Perhaps that was something she should have done years ago. Chips were different from Kaereleans after all. They burned fat a little differently and Chippeqouti had so much muscle mass to keep up, it was hard to find a balanced diet. She would just have to make sure he was getting what he needed to prevent any more infections.
The nurse obliged and then vanished to go take care of whatever else needed to be done. Roughly an hour later, Illya woke up. He was usually disoriented after a seizure but the grumpy look on his face told her he was aware enough to know where he was. Her Chip let out an irritated grumble of air and tugged at his blankets before flopping his head over. His bright green eyes landed on her and she smiled at him.
That sent him sputtering a bit and she reached out, putting a hand on him gently. “Of course, I would be here. You think I’m going to let being a foreign dignitary keep me from coming to you? Not a chance. It’s alright about the message. We’ll go home soon as you’re cleared, yeah?”
The way home was quiet as well. Calysta had only a few hours sleep and she was sure Illya was exhausted too. She poked her head over Illya’s elbow to read an article Edgar had sent to him. It was a publication she had seen before. Mostly in salons and tea houses. Priscilla read it from time to time too. Articles like this would happen frequently now, but it didn’t keep her from bristling at some of the comments made about her husband. They had practically blasted the information about their relationship everywhere and they didn’t even know Illya! “You were a fine Emperor,” she said, her teeth grinding slightly, “You are as good an Emperor as you are General. This reporter can drop a load into the-”
A sound ahead of them cut off her words and she looked up to find another swarm of reporters. “How in the wilds did they catch up with us so fast?” Of course, that didn’t matter. They would buzz around until they got whatever scoop they wanted and then twisted it. Illya had the right idea. It was time to run. “Let’s go.”
If there was ever a moment she felt like a rabbit with a fox on her heels, this was it. The reporters locked on and she twitched like a hare for half a second as some immutable and vestigial instinct took over. Prey recognizes the predator.
Then they dove into a side street that cut across the main square. Illya was faster than she was thanks to his longer legs, but she lengthened her strides into a half-run and kept up with him. As they approached the bisecting street, a few of the reporters could be seen emerging from the parallel alleyways. Why were they so persistent this early in the morning? “ They saw us! Go two streets down, then to the left.”
“Wait! Councilwoman! We just have a few questions! Please wait!”
They begged for them to stop and do an interview. There was no way she was going to do that without a bra on and on two hours of sleep. They had a schedule to adhere on top of everything else. Anger flared up and she had half a mind to simply top in the street and order them to go away. How ridiculous it was that they couldn’t even go home in peace!?
Illya followed the path and it led them to the backside of the neighbors house with several reporters hot on their tail. The gate to the high fence opened up and the elderly woman, Sylva, beckoned Illya into the backyard. “Come..come! In here. You can lose them and hop the fence between our yards when they’re gone!”
Calysta knew they were coming down the alley right behind them and they weren’t liable to get through the locked gate without the reporters catching. The scaling the fence would get them some great hologram material too.
She looked at Illya when Sylva beckoned to them. “Any better ideas?”
*******
Dear Diary,
It’s my third day on Kaereal. Harry promised that he would bring me home as soon as he could, but things are heating up rather than cooling down. I don’t know when I will be able to go home. I wish I was with him. Right now it’s midnight in Japan. He would be having tea and we would be in bed, unless I convinced him to join me for some midnight ice cream. You can’t get Moosetracks on the rural little continent I’m on right now. In fact, Terran dairy is hard to come by at all.
As small and foreign as it is, I am grateful to the Monroes for allowing me to stay with them. When I first met them, I wasn’t sure if I could trust them. Harry though, Harry always tries to give people a chance. I admire that about him. What happened on Terra made me trust them at least. They could have simply left us behind.
I think to pass the time and to repay their kindness, I think I will help in their yard. It looks awful with tramped down mud everywhere. Maybe I will plant some Kaerelean varieties and I’ve seen roses doing well here too. I always liked yellow roses, maybe the Monroes will appreciate them too…..
