free hosting   image hosting   hosting reseller   online album   e-shop   famous people

Celestial Souls, Book I: Christine
Chapter Fifteen: Justice

For all its’ high-tech look, with monitors and gadgetry and well-outfitted medical staff, it was still a hospital. A floating hospital, but a hospital nonetheless. It was...somewhat depressing.

I was given a bed beside my mother’s, close to the doctor’s office. Or surgical theatre; I didn’t know what it was, but we were close to a door. I glanced around. Aside from my family, Carmen, and Julie, the ward was empty; I saw no trace of any of the Desslers or anyone else. I frowned. Surely all of them hadn’t been charged with something? And where was Ruth? Or Theophanes? Or Konstancja or even (God forbid) Serena?

Well, Ruth was an empress-in-exile. Maybe she had important stuff to do, whatever it was that exiled empresses did. Konstancja or Serena I had no answer for, but it was quiet in the ward. I sat on the edge of the bed, not tired enough to go back to sleep but not sure of what there was to do now.

“What time is it?” Thom said.

“Don’t know,” Sylvia said. “I don’t think there is time anymore.”

“Sure there is,” my mother said. “What’s your watch say, Chris?”

“Uh...” I glanced down at the watch, amazed it was still intact after the ride. If the burning of pushing through the atmosphere hadn’t damaged it, I would have expected the lack of gravity to have some effect, but not; the digits were still being counted. “About...one-fifteen in the morning.”

My mother arched an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound right.”

“I didn’t set it to Russian time,” I said pointedly. “It’s probably early afternoon. Who cares?”

“You damn well should care,” my mother said. “You’re the only one with a watch. Start keeping track of time now and we can get used to it that much faster.”

“Get used to it?” Sylvia echoed. “Mama, are you out of your mind?”

(“Aw Jesus,” Thom muttered; for once I agreed with him, “not this again.”)

“Will you stop making a fuss?” she snapped at her. “There is obviously nothing we can do to change our situation, and bleating about it won’t do a damn thing but give me a headache!”

“We,” Sylvia pleaded, “are being held hostage, Mama! For God’s sake, why wouldn’t you fight it?”

“Chris warned me about it,” she said – uh-oh, Sylvia was getting angry, “I didn’t believe her at the time, but now...”

“Never mind Chris, what about me? It’s all very well and good for you – you’ve got your kids here with you! But me – my kids are back home, my husband is back there, and he’ll – they’ll – get worried when I stop calling! What about them?”

“’ey,” Julie said from a bed down the way, “You’re not the only one worrying! We ‘ave families too, you know.”

“Do you have three kids to raise?” Sylvia said witheringly. Julie straightened up as much as she could and met her gaze.

“No,” she said. “But don’t try and paint this as being only about you.”

“She’s got a point,” Carmen said, trying to mediate. “We’ve all been ripped from something, okay?”

“Be thankful you ‘ave your mother ‘ere,” Julie said, and the tone of her voice suggested that she would have liked to add something along the lines of ‘you whiny little bitch’ to the end, but didn’t. “That’s more than we got.”

“Of course they’d not be that worried,” Sylvia said, switching to German now (judging by the looks on their faces, the translator implants didn’t translate German), “They don’t have as much responsibilities as I do.”

“We all have responsibilities,” Mama said. “Like I said, we’re stuck here. This place is more secure than Fort Knox.”

(“What are they saying?” Julie hissed.

“Dunno,” Carmen said, “The translator isn’t working.”)

“Tell the captain if you’re so upset,” I said, lying back on the bed for lack of anything else to do. “She seems okay; maybe she’ll send someone back for Jim.”

“And what about my kids?”

“Them too,” I said, secretly hoping that they wouldn’t be brought aboard, or locked in the brig if they were. Seeing them once a year was more than enough; being locked on a ship with them was probably classed as a type of torture banned by most civilised nations. I had answers to get, things to figure out – time to think. Not time to be stuck in a sickbay surrounded by three teens who really weren’t that much younger than me, all of them whining ‘Aunt Christiiiiine, why are we on a starshiiiiiip?’ solely for the purpose of giving me a killer headache. Replace ‘why are we on a starship’ with whatever I was trying to do at the moment, or whatever they wanted to do, and it usually worked. I wanted to slug them sometimes, and damn it, if they were coming aboard I was going to learn where each and every one of the emergency shuttles were.

“She’d damn well better,” Sylvia fumed, “Or I’m going to...”

I had a feeling whatever Sylvia would do would, at best, land her in the brig, or possibly be sent away on an emergency shuttle herself. She beckoned to the nearest staff member, a diminutive Asian girl wearing a brace on her wrist. This was odd. Essentially all of the crew I’d seen so far looked to be, well, black or olive-skinned. She stood out.

There was a patch on her uniform, and like the captain’s, it was bilingual: Mizushima, read the top half; the bottom was in the same strange script.

“Yes?” she said. Even from that one word, I could tell her accent was thick.

“Take me,” Sylvia said, speaking very clearly, “to the captain of the ship.”

“Captain?” she repeated. “I am not good with English,” she said, “I will get the nurse.”

And she scuttled off, talking to the nearest nurse in very rushed tones, gesturing back over to Sylvia.

After a brief bit of chatter that I couldn’t understand one way or other, the nurse went and took Sylvia instead; she marched out looking displeased, towering over the nurse. The other girl bowed – literally bowed – to us and when she spoke, it took me a moment to piece together the translation.

“I apologise,” she supposedly said; all I heard were sing-songy gibberish words, “I am not medical staff. I am part of the captain’s staff.”

And she gestured to a stripe running horizontally across the upper chest of her jumpsuit. It was a sky blue, very thin; she then gestured to the nearest nurse, whose jumpsuit, while identical, featured a red stripe.

“They are colour co-ordinated,” she added.

“What’s your name?” I said. She seemed to understand that well enough.

“Mizushima Keiko,” she said, inclining her head. “Cosmonaut. You are...new recruits?”

“Integration,” I said.

“Oh,” she said, seeming to understand. “Then you will probably not stay long. When I was picked up I stayed only for about a week before being brought elsewhere.”

“Hang on,” Carmen said belatedly, “You were...integrated?”

The long lapses between sentences made the conversation feel very awkward: “Yes,” Keiko finally said, “I am from Japan. They came to my house one day. By the end of the month I was on a ship. Not this one. It was called the Morning Glory.”

“Why?” Julie said.

“Oh,” she said, “It is a very complicated and silly reason. You would laugh at me. But they brought me here and then found out I was not needed. They could not undo it.”

“Why not?” my mother said. “They started it.”

It took Keiko a moment to figure out what my mother was saying, and I had a feeling the English language was only a partial problem. But finally, she spoke, a little hesitant at first, “They – the Helian government – did not officially sanction me. It was done by a rogue group. I do not remember exactly what they told me, but it was something to the effect of wanting me to be put on the throne.”

She laughed at the thought before continuing: “But once the real government found out, they were furious. Had all of them jailed. But since the damage was done, so to speak, they took my family in and helped them adapt.”

“Your family’s here?” I said.

“Here? On this ship? No. I am in the middle of an eighteen-month tour of duty. They are back in the city. Not the one we are going to.”

I glanced over at Carmen to see how she was taking this news; she seemed to still be in the process of translating, but she looked intrigued.

“Now if you will excuse me,” she said, “I must be getting back to work. It has been pleasant talking with you all.”

And she added something in Japanese that the translator didn’t catch; I assumed it was some kind of ‘good-bye’. She wandered out of sickbay quickly, becoming lost in the maze of corridors this ship possessed.

We were alone again.

The only time something happened was lunch; like at the base, it was held in a large dining hall. The food was every bit as bland as I would have expected; my mother chanced a guess and said most things were probably frozen. But it was all there was, and I choked it down.

Even though I had been scalded with water and soap the minute I’d stepped onto the place, I had decided a shower was in order that night (if there was a night – there were clocks there, but nothing I could read). I quickly found out the hard way that each shower dispensed only a certain amount of water and that I couldn’t just stay for as long as I liked. I shivered, wrapping a towel around myself and wincing at the soap still on bits of me. It didn’t help that the female crew, who were in and out of the showers in five minutes, were laughing at me. Even the one who, out of sheer pity, pointed out that display above the showerhead I’d taken as something to do with power levels was actually an indicator of how much water was left in the chamber didn’t help. (Although, it made me wonder exactly how high-tech a shower needed to be).

It also didn’t help that my own mother teased me about it. I was already still partially covered in soap which left an unfortunate slime on me, and she had to go and add, “Good Lord Chris; have you never heard of navy showers?”

“Um, no? I’ve never been in the Navy.”

And she laughed, and I went to bed feeling rather lousy.

It was weird, lying in the darkened ward, the hum of the engines somewhere beneath me. I was thinking about time. It depended so much on the planet that I never even thought about it. Everyone knew a day was one rotation of the planet; a year once around the Sun; everything else was made up for practical reasons. But without a planet that rotated or went around the sun, I wondered what exactly they were using to tell time. After all, there were clocks there, even if they were unreadable to me. Obviously they had some method.

Time wasn’t an especially interesting topic, though, and I fell asleep quickly. If I dreamed anything, I didn’t remember it.

Sylvia was furious the whole next day.

“Why can’t she just send me back? It’d be much easier; I’m just one person,” she demanded. Captain Nyanti had apparently turned down her request, and she was miserable. I suppose I couldn’t blame her; she was just taking her fear and her own stress out in her own way, but I didn’t want to hear it. Marcus showed up in the dining hall, saying he could walk them about portions of the ship if we liked, and I quickly used the opportunity to get away from Sylvia.

It wasn’t anything like television’s conception of spacecraft; that was for sure. For all its’ technological gizmos, it was still a military ship, and was designed as such. I only saw one self-opening door, the one to the bridge (which we weren’t allowed on anyway). From what little I saw of it, it wasn’t terribly big. I didn’t even see the captain.

“What does that do?” Carmen said. She had said that nonstop throughout the entire tour; the frightening thing was that Marcus didn’t tire of it. He rattled off technical explanations I couldn’t have followed if I’d tried, explaining what it did and when it was put there and who built it and I just wanted to know why that one big light was blinking and he was still talking. (Carmen, for her part, seemed to lap it up with interest; Julie looked as bored as I was).

A klaxon sounded; I jumped about a foot into the air, feeling my heart racing in my chest. I let out a shriek; Julie let out a loud, “Tabernac!” Marcus paused.

“I should be getting you back.”

“Are we under attack?” Julie said.

“No, if we were there’d be a lot more sounds,” he said. “That’s just the sound of someone docking with us.”

“Oh man, don’t tell my sister,” I said. “She’ll freak.”

“They left late, I think.”

“Like I said, don’t tell my sister,” I said. “The captain won’t let her bring her kids or send her back. She’s furious.”

“Oh,” he said. “I don’t think they’re from Earth...if they are I dunno how they caught up with us...”

It wasn’t until after dinner that I saw the new arrivals, and it was the last people I’d have expected: the Saluccis, looking very confused, and an inscrutable Thanatos. Despite the tons of people in the hall, it was like my eyes had been drawn to him automatically, and noting the Saluccis came later. To be fair, Antonio looked baffled, wearing the same stupid white jumpsuit. I couldn’t read Carla’s face.

“What the hell?” I said without thinking. “What are they doing here?”

“That’s a damn good question, hon,” Ruth growled as she passed. It was the first time she’d spoken to me since the first day. Already she had abandoned the white jumpsuit for a greyish uniform that only bore a vague resemblance to the beige uniforms around us. I didn’t ask where she’d gotten it. I didn’t even get the chance to either, as she kept walking and sat with Theophanes in a much more secluded area.

I waved, hoping the white of my jumpsuit would stand out, but neither of them seemed to notice. Thanatos did, though. He offered a pleasant wave right back and I suddenly felt the urge to put my hand down.

I didn’t even get to talk to them until the next day; even then I knew time was running out. Captain Nyanti called on me that day, and I arrived in her office, trailing behind Marcus, to find not only the captain, but Serena as well. I had wondered where she had run off. It must have been a nice place, for she was one of the rare few not wearing a jumpsuit of any colour; she wore normal clothes, rather lighter ones, and I envied her a little for that. I was getting tired of this suit. Where were my clothes?

My clothes weren’t important. Right now, the expression on Serena’s face was. She didn’t look happy.

“We will be docking at Nisekem tomorrow evening,” Nyanti informed me, “I have consulted with Serena here and she has decided you and your family are to remain there under Nisekemi authority.”

I didn’t know whether to be pleased or angered with that. “And do you agree with her decision? Captain?”

“I do.”

“I see,” I said. “Are you – the Nisekem – arresting me?”

“Not at all,” Serena said, though that wasn’t reassuring in the least, “The Desslers are being transferred there as well and we require you to testify.”

“Just me?”

“And Carmen and Julie,” she added, as if it should have been obvious.

“And what about after that?”

“We’ll deal with that when we get to it.”

And with that, the matter seemed settled. With Nyanti’s backing it seemed useless to even ask who gave her the authority to do that. Maybe Ruth had?

“Hey,” I said, “did you know Ruth...was an empress?”

“Yes,” she said. “I’ve always known that.”

Damn it, three days out in space and I was still horribly out of the loop. I was dismissed. Marcus was still outside the door, and it was as he was escorting me back to sickbay that I spotted Thanatos. How could I not? There were drab walls, drab uniforms, and then him. I could’ve sworn he was illuminating the area ever so slightly but it was likely a trick of the light; there was a light immediately above him, casting a warm glow on the area.

“Hello, Christine,” he said warmly; I tried to repress the inevitable shudder, “and Marcus. Do you have a moment?”

“Yeah,” Marcus said. I didn’t know how he did it, but he didn’t look intimidated.

“There is someone I would like you to meet,” he said. “I am no stranger to loneliness, but I am also aware that not everyone may deal with it as I do, and if there is anything I can do to assist another...”

We had made our way down the hallway, narrow enough that we had to walk single-file (I was reminded of the Dessler’s basement again, but this was much more drab); at the end of it, where the corridor branched off onto another one, were the Saluccis, still wearing their jumpsuits. Now that I was closer, I could see Carla was not happy about something – unhappy but not confused, either. Sylvia’s ramblings generally still held an attempt at grasping the situation; Carla looked like she already knew the situation and she didn’t like it. (And poor Antonio was reminding me very strongly of a deer in headlights).

“This is Carla Capaldi,” Thanatos said. “I heard through the proverbial grapevine that you dedicated a certain amount of time during the week to music – by a splendid coincidence, so does she. And this man, whom I initially mistook for a brother she was inordinately fond of, is her husband Antonio.”

There was enough of a pause that I was able to get me words in: “You don’t really need an introduction. I already know them.”

“But you already knew that,” Carla sniffed at him. “Now you’re just being pretentious.”

“Not pretentious, merely polite,” he said, “For all I knew she had not met your...husband. Besides, I thought a familiar face would please her.”

There was something there I was missing, and Antonio was too. I could chalk that up to yet another thing I had no idea about, but I did feel sorry for Antonio. Besides being plucked away with presumably no warning, he had to deal with tensions between his wife and another man. Had she and Thanatos been together at one point? I tried not to think too much about it, but I couldn’t see it happening. She was outgoing, domineering – he was quiet and polite and inexplicably creepy. They just weren’t compatible.

“Is there...something I’m missing?” I said slowly.

“You are sadly missing out on many things,” Thanatos admitted. “I had not planned on informing you of this particular...spat, but perhaps it is for the best. You are involved by means of the book, and he is involved by being married to her. Marcus, I suggest you go back to Engineering. Linger any longer and your superior will not be pleased. There is no need to look so wary; she is in fine hands!”

And he patted my shoulder; I felt the warmth rush through me all over again. Oddly, even though he’d hesitated, Marcus bid be goodbye and went back the way he came, while the four of us headed down another maze of corridors. They all looked the same at this point. I had no idea where we were going, but it turned out to be the dining hall. Save for a few uniformed soldiers on clean-up duty, it was empty, and we took a seat at a little table tucked away in a corner.

“Christine, my dear, do you recall a certain book in Ruth’s possession? It would look to be very old and possess no title you could read, and the contents similarly illegible?”

“Yeah, I’ve seen it everywhere. I seem to cut my finger on it too. Huh.”

He blanched; even though he was still radiant, the effect was startling: “It made you bleed?”

“Oh, not a lot,” I said. “Paper cuts; at best there’s a drop of blood.”

“You bled onto the pages?”

“Oh, well, maybe I got a little smudge on the pages or something. No one’s said anything.”

If possible, he blanched even further, his skin losing any traces of colour. If I had to explain, I would have said usually his skin has the warm radiance of, say, candlelight; this effect was more like bright fluorescent lighting. Finally, he seemed to recompose himself, although he looked more grave, “That is one drop too many.”

“I don’t think the effect is that noticeable,” I said, hoping I hadn’t accidentally damaged it or something; it was someone else’s, “I always go ‘damn, is it noticeable?’ but it never is.”

Thanatos was shaking his head. “That explains much. So I do not need to ask if you have seen it anywhere unusual.”

“My sister found it around our place one time. Ruth came over and took it back.”

“I would attempt a guess and ask if you knew why it did that, but I do not think you know?” (I shook my head, wondering where he was going). “No, I expected not. That book, dear Christine, is possessed. It is not my intent to frighten you. Only to make you aware of the situation. The entity within the book is very old, very cunning, and very, very desperate. It you have not guessed as it were, it does not like me; hence, it has found ways to evade me.”

A...possessed...book. For some reason spaceflight and other planets was easier to swallow than that; at least it had some basis in reality even if Earth was way behind on technology. This was starting to edge into ‘just plain weird’ territory, like Mr. Dessler’s rambling on about dead royalty and their reincarnations.

“Um,” was the first ungainly thing that came out of my mouth, “O...kay.”

“The ways are subtle,” he said. “For example, say it is on a bookshelf, crammed between two larger volumes. Someone glances about the shelf and is drawn to it, but they wind up being confused by it and setting it aside. When dear Ruth does her usual clean up at the end of the day she sees the book, and does not know where it belongs; she stashes it in the back room. You and Mr. Dessler sneak in one night and you just happen to stumble across it.”

“That doesn’t mean a book has a personality,” I said. “That just means Ruth can’t keep track of her stuff.”

“Then what about this? I walk out with the book one day, and once it is aware of who is currently in possession of it, it happens to ‘accidentally’ slip from my very firm grasp, and from there on be ‘accidentally’ blown down the street, and into a recycling box. And while that box is on the way to the plant, it ‘accidentally’ slips out and is found by your unwitting sister. Even now I have brought it with me to the ship, and you will likely find it somewhere in sickbay when you return.”

“We’ll see about that,” I said. “Ruth insisted it belonged to someone else.”

“And technically it does; the book itself is theoretically property of the Crown of Nisekem, but in practice it belongs solely to Queen – the actual title translates to a variety of meanings – Seski-nan of Anu-mulki, and none of her descendants. It is not the content of the book that worries me, not the book itself, but the entity residing deep within the pages, beyond the physical plane.”

“And does she know she’s got an evil book?” Antonio cut in, sarcasm positively dripping from his words.

“She is aware, yes. But she is sick,” he said, tapping his head in the universal sign for ‘mental’, “Sick enough that she believes what the entity tells her, and considers it a god. For me to extract the entity and purge her of its’ influence would be blasphemous to her, despite the benefits it would have.”

“And where does my wife come into all of this?” he demanded. Thanatos turned his attentions fully to Antonio.

“Carla,” Thanatos said, “was, in theory, to assist me in extracting it. I shall not frighten you with the details; suffice to say her mother generously volunteered her for the role when she was about thirteen – her mother is – was – a minor noble in the Erebian court, likely wishing for a little boost to her standing. Suffice to say on that regard, that I am held...very highly in Erebe; most are all too willing to help.”

Antonio grinned; it was that sort of look that said he had just figured out this was a dream, or a really horrible joke, and was breathing a sigh of relief. “You’re mad,” he said. “Her mother’s from Venice. I should know; my mother says she went to school with her.”

“And your mother is quite correct in that regard; she spent most of her time on Earth – one of the earlier integration approaches – but spent the rest of it in Erebe. As Carla will undoubtedly tell you, her parents are divorced, upon which Lady Angela returned to Erebe.”

“Carla, put a stop to this,” Antonio said. “He’s raving.”

Carla was silent.

“What’s this book have to do with anything?” I said.

“With the Desslers, you mean?” Thanatos said, turning his attention to me while Antonio turned his onto Carla, “Absolutely nothing. My goals and his goal are two separate things. There is some overlap, but nothing you need overly concern yourself with.”

“And Ruth and Theophanes?”

There was a long pause. “You would have to ask her. I do not wish to betray their trust.”

“She doesn’t like answering questions like that,” I said with a scowl, “Besides, I don’t even know where she is.”

“Right there, my dear.”

I turned around; sure enough, Ruth and Serena were there, followed shortly by Theophanes. Ruth was still wearing her greyish jumpsuit; Theophanes was not. (How come they got their clothes back?)

“There you are,” Ruth said, and I blinked at the clash between the sounds her lips were making versus what I understood it to be, “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Ruth, dear, try and show a little more reverence, would you?” Theophanes said. Ruth ignored him.

“Who says I was talkin’ ‘bout him?” Ruth said, then, in English: “You scared the crap outta your ma. She thought you’d been locked up!”

“So?” I said.

“So you need to be gettin’ back now,” she said.

“I’m fine right here,” I said. “I don’t want to leave.”

Was that a hint of irritation in her expression? “You should just to get ‘em to stop wailin’. It’s driving everyone nuts.”

“They’ll calm down,” I said. “I can only go so far on a ship.”

“My dear Ruth, please calm yourself. Christine is safe here,” Thanatos said soothingly, then switched to sing-song, “I have already told her most of what I know, and she is not as dense as you seem to think she is.”

“I never thought she was,” Ruth said, “I just thought she needed to learn to mind her own business.”

Thanatos chuckled. “Do you seriously believe that still remains a viable option? It has not been an option ever since a certain Dessler explained the whole concept to her.”

“So why don’t we just tell everyone?” Ruth said, “Let’s get everyone involved! That certainly won’t make a mess of a fragile situation, will it?”

“Ruth—” Theophanes cut in.

“You just don’t understand what works in theory doesn’t work in practice,” Ruth continued.

“Maybe...he has a point,” Theophanes admitted. Ruth shot him a nasty look.

“Oh no,” she said. “You’re one of the reasons I’m keeping my mouth shut. Heaven knows what you’d try and do with her...”

“Ruth has a point,” Thanatos said. “I mean to inform her because the nature of her situation requires as much information as possible to thrive – not to use her as a political pawn.”

“I am offended you would even suggest that,” Theophanes said, looking hurt. “I am too fond of her to throw her to the wolves like that—”

“Oh, come on,” Ruth snapped, “You’re fond of your dear, sweet sister Theophoteina but you still shipped her to the Hadeans.”

Between translating rapid sing-song in my head and listening to the growing squabble in Italian between the Saluccis, I felt my head begin to throb. Rhythmically, pain shooting out in even beats from my temples and spreading outwards. I winced, rubbing the temples, but to no avail.

Thanatos raised a hand. “I think it would be only fair to speak in a language she understands. By the looks of it our petty bickering is giving her pain.”

“Only you’d call arguing over the throne ‘petty bickering’,” Ruth muttered. “But that’s not even what I came here for. You’re here, so you must have that book.”

“I did upon docking,” he said mildly. “Knowing my terrible luck with it,” he shot me a sidelong glance, “I might have already lost it.”

Ruth swore. “You lost it?”

“Do not be too angered,” Thanatos said drily, “Knowing poor Christine’s luck, it will have likely found its’ way to sickbay.”

Ruth blinked at me, seeming baffled now. Thanatos continued, “Did you not notice it has already – on multiple occasions, if I am remembering correctly – tasted her blood? Do you not expressly remember the warning given to you, to not let anything of yours touch the pages? You thought it silly at the time – why of course you would not bleed, or cry, or spit on a book, how delightfully absurd! But I assure you, there was good reason for it.”

“Explain, hon.”

“I cut my finger on the pages a couple of times,” I said. “It was only, like, a drop of blood.”

“And now it recognises her,” he said, “And, judging only by the frequent number of times she has come across it, it has taken a liking to her. No, Christine, before you ask – this is not a good thing. This is terrible. In interest of fairness I suggest you tell her. Thanks to a slip of the tongue by Corrine, she is already well aware of your titles.”

(I wondered how he knew about that; I had thought that was private. Surely gossip didn’t spread around that fast?)

Theophanes spoke first; Ruth seemed to have finally given up, throwing herself next to me and looking upset. The Saluccis were still arguing, and Theophanes forced himself to speak over them – even though they’d quietly retreated to another spot, they were still loud, and my translator didn’t translate Italian...

“I’ll assume you’re clever enough to have figured out on your own that Ruth and I are in exile,” he said, “and if you haven’t, there you go. I don’t like to go into how it happened, but let’s just say my brother Theophilos is currently on the throne.”

“You got kicked out by your own brother?” I said. I knew it happened, but it was a distant, faraway thing that happened to historical people and on television. Not to modern people.

“Lord no; Theophilos isn’t clever or motivated enough to do that – he liked the status quo. He liked being a layabout living off inheritance – but that is beside the point; no, one of my ministers ousted me and placed him on the throne. Naturally this has led to a spectacular divide in opinion; most of the people that we’ve met still recognise me as legit Emperor.”

And he said it with the tone that of course he was the legit Emperor, and anyone disagreeing was either lying or wrong in the head.

“The book belongs to Seski-nan of Nisekem, and was stolen from her some years ago. We made a...deal,” and he lowered his voice so the point that I had to lean in to hear him, “if I returned the book to her she would lend me some of her forces to place me back on the throne. All right?”

Feeling a surge of many things – excitement, relief, a desire for more, I said, “And what about the Desslers?”

“What about them? You know they’re being held on smuggling charges; Seski-nan had been after them for some time, and it was rather...if I couldn’t bring her the book, I could at least help her find him.”

“That’s it?” I blinked. “Smuggling? That’s why Serena’s on their tail like a psychotic Sherlock Holmes?”

(Serena looked offended. I didn’t care).

“We tell you sensitive information and all we get is a ‘that’s it?’” Ruth said. “It’s not like everyone knows of this deal, and God forbid I try and keep a little privacy! All right, I’ll buy that I might’ve been harsh with you, but rather that than drag you into the whole sorry mess.”

“The Desslers have already dragged her in far enough,” Thanatos said. “I am sure someone along the way would have told her.”

“And good for them,” Ruth said. “Did it have to be us?”

“Why not straight from the horse’s mouth, so to speak?”

“Because the world doesn’t work the way you’d like it to work,” Serena said. She looked apologetic immediately upon saying it.

“Unfortunately it does not,” he agreed. “I would ask you to keep silent, Christine, but you have already proven adept at that.”

“Again? It was bad enough—”

“Your family is here with you; there are no prohibitions against telling them about the countries. Just on those countries’ shady dealings.”

“It’s not shady,” Ruth muttered, “It’s practical. It’s called an alliance. Hey, would you tell the two songbirds to shut up? I can’t hear myself think!”

“Your thoughts are so shallow they’re not worth listening to!” Carla snapped right back. Carly and Shelby. That was who they were, except older. It was actually a little terrifying. It was bad enough in school; would I have to deal with the same sort of thing here?

“...the hell?”

“Oh, about twenty years ago she was volunteered to help Thanatos with something,” Ruth said. “I dunno what; I wasn’t at court yet.”

“Thanatos informed us there was a demon to be purged, and she was chosen to be the human vessel for it once it had been removed from its’ original source,” Theophanes said. “A barbaric idea, and it was eventually dropped.”

“Very barbaric,” Thanatos agreed. “You see why I needed the—”

Somewhere off in the distance, klaxons were heard.

“Who on Earth is docking with us?” Ruth said. Theophanes seemed to blanch.

“I’m sure the Donumians aren’t angry,” Ruth said soothingly, “This is a Helian ship, and they’ve done nothing to them.”

“I don’t care,” Theophanes said. “Donumian or Erebian – neither of them are allies right now, and I don’t have the resources available—”

“Christine,” Thanatos muttered to me; I outright jumped. “Perhaps you should be getting back to sickbay. I had not anticipated that this would turn into a madhouse.”

He placed a steadying hand on me again, and I basked in the warmth. “Shall I walk you back?”

“I can handle that,” Theophanes said. Thanatos shot him a look. The klaxons were still going.

Theophanes walked through the corridors like he owned them, seeming to know where every nook and cranny went to – and if he didn’t, he sure did a damn good job of pretending he did. The klaxons died suddenly, leaving dead silence in their wake, broken only by our footsteps against the floor.

“I didn’t...mean to come off as pushy,” I said, “But you have no idea what it’s like to be talked around like you’re not even there—”

“On the contrary, I have a very good idea of what that’s like,” he said; I struggled to keep up. “In retrospect, Thanatos was right; we should have told you, but...well, we’re only human, aren’t we? We make mistakes.”

He rounded a corner and I followed suit, scrabbling at the walls to make sure I didn’t fall over.

“Sometimes we make bigger mistakes than others,” he continued. “It was rather stupid for us to keep it from you when the Helians were mobilising.”

“And Serena?”

“What about Serena?”

“She’s kept a lot of stuff from me too, and I don’t think it’s because she wants the throne.”

“Likely she has, but as far as the Desslers go...that’s Seski-nan’s business now, not ours. I’m talking specifically about Ruth and I. Yes, we’re both a little stubborn, I’ll admit. But our intentions were good – the court is a mess, you know, a right mess even in my day, and the fewer people that get wound up in it, the better.”

People were starting to be seen in the hallways now; I guessed we were closer to sickbay.

“That doesn’t change the fact that you and Ruth just sort of...brushed aside any questions I had.”

“You’re right; it doesn’t. Like I said, we’re stubborn. And it’s not like we don’t care; Ruth is quite fond of you. Trying to not get you any more swept up than we had to...but that didn’t quite work out as we’d hoped, did it?”

“No, I guess not,” I said, weaving through the people.

“Forgive us?” Theophanes suggested, as we grew ever closer to the place. “Tomorrow you’ll go to the introduction a little smarter than the rest of them, and I hope it’s not with any ill will towards us.”

I wanted to say no, it wasn’t going to be that easy...but something stopped me. I didn’t know what it was; he seemed honest enough now that Thanatos had all but forced him to speak of it.

“I’m still kinda pissed,” I admitted as we reached the doors. “But...I s’pose it’s not so bad now.”

“That’s the spirit,” Theophanes said. “You’re here; I’d best go see what’s happening on the bridge. Good day.”

I don’t know how Thanatos knew what he knew. I couldn’t explain it in any rational terms, but when I came closer to the group of beds we were stuck in, I gaped a little. There, clustered around what I assumed was Carmen’s bed, was Thom and Julie; my mother and Sylvia were in another corner. They were peering at the book, touching it very delicately. And likely bored out of their minds.

“What’s going on?” I said.

“One of the nurses dropped this book,” Carmen said. “We’re flipping through it and making up our own subtitles as to what it says.”

(“Stupid kids,” my mother muttered).

“Be careful,” I said, “Those pages can give you a paper cut.”

“How stupid d’you think we are, Chris?” Thom said.

I wanted to say very. But I didn’t. After all, the notion of a possessed book was laughable.

Shortly before dinner, we were finally given back our regular clothes. They claimed properly decontaminating them was difficult, but I had a feeling they wouldn’t have even bothered to give them back if someone hadn’t pulled rank somewhere.

Apparently someone had docked with us, for at dinner several distinctly non-military people made an appearance; I couldn’t see any of them clearly. There was one with white hair, one with red hair, one with black hair, and they didn’t stay long. I didn’t mind. I didn’t even know who they were. No, the next day was more important; that was the day we were brought down to the captain’s office, where she explained procedure.

We were to be released into Nisekemi custody; we would be landing near the poles, the only docking site the planet had, and from there we would be taking a second shuttlecraft to the capital. And from there the Nisekemi authorities would deal with us. Don’t be frightened, we were told, we would be well taken care of. And then, after we were dismissed, Marcus took over, taking us to the cafeteria again, and I tuned him out. He was talking about Nisekem, and Erebe, and Helia (if that was what his country was called), and I had heard two out of the three already.

We came across Ruth and Theophanes on the way back; they looked upset.

“We’re going to Nisekem,” I said. “Tonight.”

“You are, at least,” Marcus said.

“Yeah, hon, we’re...we’re stayin’ here,” Ruth said, looking a little defeated. “Konnie’s goin’ with you, and God help you with her.”

Finally, after dinner, we were released. Our passports were stamped and checked, and we slowly, unsurely, stepped out onto Nisekemi soil. It was dark; too dark to see properly. Flashlight beams and numerous light posts lit up the area well enough to see, but it was cold. Even in my sweater, I shivered.

Even though there were lights, it was still difficult to make out landscape. Somewhere dry, I guessed; there was sand under my feet. The air smelled musty. It was weird thinking of the fact that I was now officially on another planet. Another planet!

Chains clanked behind me, and I glanced behind to see the Desslers – all of them – being led down the ramp by two guards apiece, hands cuffed behind their backs; their ankles were similarly shackled.

“Jesus Christ,” I heard my mother say. “All of them?”

“They’re a flight risk,” Serena said.

“Where could they go?”

“You’d be surprised,” Serena said, giving an order to the guards. The Desslers were led off. Unfortunately that meant we had to follow; we spent the night in barracks somewhere. Divided by sex meant that I had to share a room with Konstancja and her baby. That meant that not only she got up every two hours (or so it felt like) but so did I. My mother was miraculously able to ignore it.

And yet she was still cheery the next morning. Sort of tired, but cheery in an odd, odd way.

‘What’s got you so happy?” I said to her.

“I am one step closer to home,” she said, adjusting her grip on her son.

It was still as dark as when we’d arrived, and we were given a hasty explanation of it being similar to the Arctic – “Thirty days of night and all that,” one of them said. The shuttle ride wasn’t quite as bad as before; the pressure and nausea seemed to be much less. The ride didn’t seem as long too, though it had to have been; the capital was in daylight when we arrived. (And it was most assuredly a desert). Oddly, the sky was pitch-black despite the light. “We’re under a dome,” I was told.

From what little I saw, it was an odd mix of old and new: mud-brick houses and majestic black columns stood side by side with obvious gadgetry like computers and CD players. There were beggars in the street wearing loose robes and several higher-class girls (mostly around my age) wearing regular jeans and shirts. Their parents stood near them; some wore Earth clothes, others didn’t.

There wasn’t much time for sightseeing, for we were again whisked off – the Desslers to what I assumed was jail (now really, weren’t they being a bit harsh? I couldn’t speak for Mr. Dessler, but his wife and grandson hadn’t done anything wrong, and yet they were being treated like criminals!), and I was sequestered away in a holding room. Police, I assumed, for two uniformed men came in and began asking me questions in slow English.

“Did you see the accused in possession of a memory-suppressing device?”

“Yes, but—”

“Did he use it on you?”

“Yes, but he—”

“Then how can you remember?”

“Because it didn’t take,” I snapped. “Would you let me finish? Only one person did anything to me and yet you’ve got three locked up. That’s not right.”

“What we plan on doing is none of your concern,” I was told.

“Of course it’s my concern! One of them is my friend and you’re locking him up for no reason! Haven’t you heard of ‘innocent until proven guilty’?”

“We have,” he said. “We’re also in the practice of detaining suspects until trial.”

It went on for hours. Just when I thought they couldn’t ask any more questions they came up with a fresh batch. And then, to add insult onto another insult, I was placed in jail. Not literally of course; I had been transferred to the “Imperial Complex”, where there’d be dozens upon dozens of people there to keep an eye on me.

“Where’s my family?” I demanded of the nearest person.

“They’ve been sent to another part of the complex,” she said. “Now bow; Princess Evania approaches.”

I was not inclined to bow to anyone, especially after spending most of my day stuck in a holding room, drinking what was supposed to be coffee but was probably boiled mud. And it was that way that Princess Evania found me, her golden hair gleaming in the light. She looked to be the same odd mixture of old and new that everything else was; although she was dressed in what I assumed was ‘traditional’ garb, a one-shouldered robe that fluttered as she walked, she was wearing a very modern t-shirt underneath it. It was very jarring.

All the other people in the area had literally prostrated themselves; she seemed used to it. She flicked a hand, carelessly. “You may rise,” she instructed.

She scanned me, her eyes very big and dark. (She was pretty, in an exotic way). Then, in slow, hesitant English, “You are sent by Empress Ruth?”

“In a sense,” I said slowly. “You are looking for a book?”

“Yes! A book. Imperial property. Where is it?” (“The seven spheres of heaven,” she muttered in sing-song, “I sound like an idiot when I try to speak this language!”)

“I don’t have it,” I said. “I just got back from the police.”

She didn’t seem to understand, so I clumsily tried to mime what I meant. Very tired, I tried to say, lots of questioning. Don’t know where book is. She seemed to clue in.

“Ah, yes. Tired. Very long journey for you. I will let you rest. Then you can bring book,” she said, switching to sing-song easily, “You there! Send her to a room; I don’t care which one. Just let her sleep it off or something and get me when she wakes.”

And she left not long after, her blue gown swishing as she walked precariously, doing a steady balancing act on ridiculously high platform sandals.

So, as per her orders, I was stuck in a room. It was a small, drab room, with a bed, a chest of drawers, and a mirror. Nothing else. I flopped myself onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. I wished there was a fan or something to gaze at, but there wasn’t anything. Eventually I wound up nodding off; the next thing I knew, it was some time later (but obviously not that long; it was still very bright outside), and there was a book on top of the dresser. How had it gotten there? I picked it up; it was the same musty old book that had been on the ship...which was probably on its’ way back to Helia by now, or even farther...

Possessed? I didn’t think so. But Thanatos seemed so insistent...

I quickly learned this place was the exact opposite of where we’d landed – perpetual day. I had to pull blackout curtains over my one window, and even then light still seeped in around the edges.

I had no idea what trials were like here, but something struck me as just plain wrong when I was called to testify the following day. No one did trials that fast, I thought. Not even the sham ones! Even if Nyanti had sent them the reports she’d made, I would have expected them to take some time processing it...

The trial was being held in what appeared to be an open-air amphitheatre, which was already filling up. I had a feeling this wasn’t the entire jury, but that people were allowed to come in and just watch trials here. Why anyone would want to was another thing entirely. The Desslers apparently had been able to get a lawyer, for there was a woman standing near them, wearing the same sort of loose, one-sleeved robe I saw elsewhere. And, up at the front, a panel of older women were sitting. Which one was the judge?

They all were, apparently.

“Alexander Dessler,” the woman in the middle said; her hair was pulled back into a severe bun, “you stand before us accused of kidnapping with intent to cause bodily or mental harm; smuggling of contraband weaponry for that purpose; conspicuous behaviour intended to expose our existence to protected peoples...”

Just smuggling. Hah!

“...how do you plead?”

I was sitting behind him, in the lowest row of seats along with Carmen and Julie. I couldn’t see his face, but his words were tense: “Not guilty.”

“Anne Dessler, you stand before us accused of conspiracy to kidnapping and conspicuous behaviour. How do you plead?”

She just sounded baffled, and angry: “Not guilty!”

I felt badly for her. What did she know of his activities? He’d even told me she didn’t know. I would have to make a point of saying that, even if asked. Eric was charged with the exact same things.

This didn’t go like trials on television went; there was no date for the trial, no time to collect evidence; this was it. And it was rather cruel: the panel of women would throw questions at them, which they answered, and then their lawyer would throw questions at them. Then there was a pause for a small statement from both sides, in English and a second language, that essentially summed up their responses and why each side believed they were either guilty or not. I had a suspicion this was for the people who didn’t speak English.

And then Carmen was called to testify, while the Desslers were able to sit. The format was the exact same. I was next.

“Your name is Christine Schumacher?” a woman to the left of centre said.

“Yes.”

“What is your relationship to the accused?”

“I’m a friend of their grandson. Eric. We met at school.”

“And the other two are merely...acquaintances?”

“Yes.”

Was it just me, or was it getting ridiculously hot in the place? There wasn’t a breeze, and I was wearing a sweater, which seemed far too warm now.

“We have a statement provided by one Captain Corrine Nyanti, of the Helian Military Force, in which Alexander Dessler confessed to kidnapping you. Is this true?”

“Yes,” I said, “but...er, it was just him. His wife and his grandson didn’t have anything to do with it. I just wanted to say that.”

“It will be noted. Please describe what happened.”

There wasn’t even a chance to glance backwards at them; I just talked, going on and on in the dry air until my throat was parched. I rolled up my sleeves, hoping to cool myself off, and tried to keep going until my voice cracked as I described all I could. Finally, I was offered water, which I gladly took. And then I kept going, describing his description of the aliens, of the guns, of the memory-suppressing devices, until I couldn’t talk any more.

“...and then I wandered about until I came across Em—Empress Ruth’s place. It was around what? Seven? Eight in the morning?”

I swore I was going to pass out if this heat didn’t let up.

Thankfully the women weren’t that cruel: “Thank you. We’ll take a five minute recess,” one said. I practically collapsed onto the nearest chair, drenched in sweat.

During the recess, someone came up and passed the woman in the centre some sort of report; she was still skimming it as the trial went back in session, and while the aggressive lawyer tried to poke holes in everything I said, I just tried not to pass out, sipping a second glass of water.

“Thank you, my friend,” one of the women said, “Court will be adjourned until tomorrow.”

It didn’t end there: Evania was waiting for me when I got back, escorted by a uniformed woman.

“You’re looking for the book?” I panted. “In my room.”

I was tired, I was worn out – screw it. That was what Ruth intended, right? It was, technically, the Crown’s anyway. Books couldn’t be possessed by demons; that was stupid...

“Here,” I said, thrusting the book at her. She looked awed, like it was something she’d never seen before – then delighted, her face lighting up. She took it all too eagerly, her polished nails drumming against the cover while she promised me a change of clothes and plenty of water. They arrived not half an hour later, a t-shirt (I didn’t know who it had originally belonged to, but it was too big on me) and a skirt. I felt better wearing them; they were light and airy.

I didn’t see Carmen or Julie until the next day, back at the trial. Julie looked nervous at being called to testify, very much so. The seven women at the front row began taking their seats, looking grave. Mr. Dessler was still chained up, but Mrs. Dessler and Eric were close by, wiping the sweat from their foreheads. I glanced behind me. There were no spectators today, nor any jury.

“What kinda trial is this?” I muttered to Carmen.

“A sham one,” she said, looking pale.

“Yesterday we received news that forced us to alter the course of the trial,” the woman in the centre said. I shuddered.

“Upon reviewing the previous’ day’s testimony—”

“Hello, Christine,” a familiar voice muttered in my ear.

“—the Crown has reluctantly decided to acquit Anne and Eric Aloisburg of all charges.”

“Excuse me?” the lawyer said. “Their surname is Dessler.”

“Is this about the book?” I hissed back to him, trying to keep one eye on the trial.

“No,” he said. “That will find its’ way back to you no matter what you try. I am here on a favour to Ruth—”

“Technically, it isn’t,” she said. “Were you not aware that the Crown has collected blood samples, retinal scans, and other identifying marks of the accused?”

“I was, but I fail to see your point—”

“And were you not aware that the Crown keeps a database of such files?”

“What, my honoured friend,” the lawyer said, spitting out the title with impatience, “is your point?”

“Ruth thanks you for passing the book on, however little it will do her,” Thanatos muttered. “And while I am here, let me point out to pay very close attention to what happens next—”

“My point, my friend, is that those scans are ran through the database. The Helians found no match for the wife or grandson, but they did for the accused. It matched to one Liupold Aloisburg, approximately one-hundred-and-ten years of age, accused of attempting to assassinate Seski-nan about fifty years ago,” (“More in the vein of fifty-five, to be precise,” Thanatos said), “I shouldn’t have to point out to you that there is no statue of limitations on that.”

“Retinal scans can be misleading.”

“The fingerprints matched up too. We’re waiting back on the DNA.”

“Then we can come back and debate this then.”

“I agree. And until then, the Crown has requested that he be held without bail. We are honouring that request.”

She struck the gavel, hard, on the rock of the podium. Guards quickly escorted Mr. Dessler away, while his family looked on in shock, trailing behind him like they didn’t know what to do with themselves. Eventually that just left us sitting on the bench.

“What the hell?” was all Carmen could say. “A hundred and ten?”

“They had to have made a mistake,” I said. “There’s just no way he’s who they say he is.”

“Yeah,” Julie said. “Maybe they switched up their samples.”

I felt a tug on my arm; the guard was there, her hair pulled back. I sighed, standing. No point sitting around there. It wasn’t true, anyway; they had to have gotten something or other mixed up...

Thanatos accompanied me back to my room, much to the guard’s discomfort; she was all too eager to leave when I got to the doorway of my little cell. I stared up at him.

“What d’you want?”

I partially opened the door, leaning half against it and half against the frame.

“I merely wanted the book, but I can wait on that. Now, thanks to strings being pulled – and please do not ask me about those just now; it is quite convoluted and it is very hot here – you will shortly be declared to be in Erebian custody, and I am here to escort you to the embassy.”

“But my family’s here!”

“And I assure you they are perfectly safe here. Even as we speak they are undergoing standard integration lessons. But you – you have served your purpose as far as Evania and Serena are concerned. Now they both see fit to send you off to somewhere they think you would enjoy much better. Unfortunately, rank being what it is, there is not much you can do. I suggest you change. It is quite cool in Erebe.”

I stomped my foot hard on the ground; a cloud of dust was kicked up. “I am not going to be pushed around! I’ve had enough of that!”

“Christine,” he said. I slowly looked at him. There was nothing but sympathy and compassion on his face. “Please. Trust me.”

I didn’t trust him, I didn’t trust him as far as I could throw him. But I was surrounded by people who would do his bidding anyway, wasn’t I?

I sighed.

“Trust me,” he repeated, “The court there has the same sort of nastiness as the court here. But there, at least, you are safer, comparatively speaking. I will do everything in my power to make sure you are comfortable...for now, you should go and prepare. The shuttle will be arriving very soon.”

Yes, and I didn’t have to like it.