BOOK 0: FIELDS OF FIRE Chapter xiii

D’tai was a world of manufacturers and tradesmen, their busy crowded cities with their bustling commerce far removed from the relaxed atmosphere Thuringa once enjoyed. This was a world run on currency and its gleaming buildings were stacked like gigantic round coins or glass-enclosed rectangular promissory notes. The people of D’tai were dark-haired and prone to gain weight as they aged and prospered. They admired their yellow-eyed neighbors and had always enjoyed close fellowship despite the differences in cultures. They did not embrace each other’s cultural philosophy, but they did respect it.

To Lycasis’s surprise, the D'tai received the Thuringi delegation coolly but the D'tai chieftain was sympathetic to the Thuringi needs. His one odd request was for Lycasis to draw his pistol and point it at him.

"But... why?" Lycasis asked. Stuart and Darien flanked their father and exchanged curious glances.

"So that we may be true in saying you forced us to aid you," the D'tai leader explained. "We are too near the border zone of the Shargassi to simply hand over supplies to you. Even though we owe you this must be done, Lycasis. We will be hard-pressed enough to keep the Shargassi away from us once your people have left this quadrant with your Armada."

Lycasis sighed and complied. The supply run was broadcast on the news throughout D’tai. With unhappy hearts all Thuringi drew their weapons and took the supplies that could be spared. No one liked it. Thuringi never forced anyone to do their bidding in their history, nor did D'tai ever request such an unfriendly action on their friends. Personally, singularly, all the D'tai they contacted apologized. The Thuringi understood. They were the ones who were leaving the vicinity; it was the D’tai who would now have the Shargassi nip at their heels. It did not make the situation seem any less like the abuse of their friends.

"Well, the D'tai manage for themselves; they truly gave us all they could spare, be it under the gun or not," Lycasis told his council when they were away again. "Borelliat will be a different story; they are the breadbasket of the galaxy, as we well know. They have strong neighbors in the Thelan and have always enjoyed our aid. Our main source of supplies will be from those good people."

Every day after they left D’tai was much like the day before, so buoyed were the nomads by their hopes for the future. The weeks and months were hardly distinguishable in their passing except that the cooks in the dining halls became more inventive in the way they prepared and presented the humble friak. At least once a ginta an Elder, usually Asa Mennar, complained to Lycasis about the declining morals of youth.

One day after court, Elder Regar Renaugh told the king about the naughty young people who kept the lights of the observation deck low for their own improper reasons. Lycasis replied that the Elder’s fierce scolding was enough to teach them a lesson.

“Not only them,” Regar proudly informed his king, “but I made those recalcitrant young folks take me to their parents and I scolded them, as well. I do not believe I will be invited to the wedding, but I have a strong idea there will be one, now.”

Lycasis grinned from ear to ear.

The younger children were routinely taken to the Tarque to observe the wild animals and to pet the dallah and exercise the gakkis there. The dallahs had the roam of the main space of the ship and their wet noses were into everything. All the workers on the Tarque had a favorite dallah or two and play with the animals was considered an important part of their care so none became wild or unmanageable. The dallahs no longer barked at the wild creatures but that was not to say they did not growl at the scent of beran. The gakki were used to space travel now, but the wildlife managers were concerned that future generations might have to be taught to graze.

Fifty creatures of varying species lived in the multiple hallways of the Tarque. Small woodland creatures thrived on the plant life preserved on one hallway in particular, a small ecosystem unto itself. They scampered along the branches and up and down the tree trunks, sometimes using their Thuringi keepers’ heads as steppingstones to launch themselves from one tree to another. Birds stayed in the main deck, occasionally thrilling workers and visitors with sudden dramatic swoops of group flight. The gakkis got particular attention not only from the Tarque crew, but from their former riders and owners.

The cantinas were full and boisterous, and the observation decks were used as meeting rooms for many social clubs and hobbyists. Every religious service was packed, and the dining halls were attended regularly. Plays and dramatic recitations were performed by talented people during their off-hours. Even people who never acted before took part for something to do. When Borelliat came into view on the scout ship’s tracking screens, the Thuringi were in a cheerful, festive mood. It did not last.

The Thuringi were directed to contact the kingdom of Fields for all dealings with the world, an unusual step in itself. Borelliat was politically split into seven kingdoms in perpetual turmoil over control of the most fertile areas; that they would agree to allow Fields to speak for all was a hint that something was amiss.

To Lycasis's horror, King Leopold Van Der Braak of Fields was reluctant to even receive them in his court on Borelliat; when he did, he was brusque. Leopold was keenly aware of his world’s situation. The breadbasket of the galaxy, Borelliat was long on agriculture and woefully short of military capabilities. The D'tai were ruled by an appointed chieftain and representatives, and at least had a planetary defense force. Borelliat weapons were simple swords and pistols and other hand-held implements since larger scale items would damage the precious land and lay to waste their crops and livestock. They traded with other Stellar Council worlds, but none dealt with the Shargassi anymore. They did not relish the thought of the Shargassi flying in to demand trade in ale and brandy or produce, but the Stellar Council worlds always traded with Thuringa in the past.

Leopold’s kingdom Fields held the largest amount of land. Ordinarily, he would have claimed being chosen to represent Borelliat to explain matters to the Thuringi as proof the other kingdoms recognized his superiority, but he did not this day. Leopold flatly turned the Thuringi away despite promises made years ago at the Stellar Council. The king of Fields knew the awesome Royal Thuringi Air Command might decide they had nothing to lose and retaliate. It was all the more difficult to carry through once the great Thuringi king and his sons stood before him with stunned looks on their faces. He and Lycasis had a friendship that spanned decades.

"If the Shargassi have all but destroyed the mighty Thuringi, what is to stop them from taking us, as well? We cannot risk aid to you, Lycasis, as much as we would like to help. We are weak in military defense, and the Shargassi would take no greater pleasure than to punish any who give aid and succor to their enemy."

"But you guaranteed us aid! We have aided you in the past!" Darien snapped. "How can you just brush us away? How many times have you called to us and the Thuringi fleet rushed to your defense?"

"And where will you be, once you have gone on your way?" the Borelliat king said impassively. "The Thuringi might is in retreat, and we cannot be caught up in your defeat."

"We will never be defeated!" Darien roared, as Stuart held him back with effort.

"We cannot journey without better provisions, Leopold," Lycasis tried to reason. "Are you saying we cannot even have a basket of bread?"

"I cannot even offer you a morsel from under my table," Leopold replied. He faced Lycasis as he did so and gave him a peculiar look. Without moving his head, he darted his eyes to the right and back again. Lycasis sighed and bowed his head slightly as if in thought, but his eyes glanced to where Leopold silently indicated. There was a dark form in the shadows by a post, and Lycasis instinctively drew his hand up to his sword.

"We are not so weak, not to have archers at the ready," Leopold cautioned him, "so dispel any notion you might have of taking from us by force as you did the D'tai."

Darien uttered a curse and tried to break Stuart's grip.

"We have taken so much of your time already," Lycasis said briefly, turned on his heel sharply, and swept from the room. Stuart dragged his furious twin brother out, even as Darien threatened the Borelliat king.

"Hide in your castle then, you old bastard! I will get even with you for this! I will not forget this, ever!" The Thuringi contingent got in their transports and lifted off for the Armada and immediate departure.

The dark figure slid out of the shadows. "You were wise to turn them down, Leopold. Now watch that you do not go back on your decision. The Shargassi do not forget either, and they await my report."

"Get out of my home, you wretched thing," Leopold told him angrily. "I have just broken with my greatest friend in the hour of his people's greatest need. Leave Borelliat alone."

"For such a performance as I have witnessed I shall, as soon as the Thuringi Armada has left your airspace and is out of hailing frequency." The figure came forward into the light, where his excessively long nose and long teeth made a frightening sight to the unhappy Borelliat assembled there. He tossed back his cowl, revealing his all but hairless head and large ears.

"Why are Scodans playing henchmen to the vile Shargassi?" Leopold demanded.

"My world was warned not to deal with the defeated remnants of the Circlet Crown and so we do not! Your history of association with the Thuringi king makes you a risk. The Shargassi will continue to watch you closely. Would you rather have a squadron come here to do battle with the Thuringi and put to waste the fabulous agricultural fortunes of Borelliat?"

"No, damn you," Leopold snapped. "Now get out before my archers aim at you."

The Scodan named Chaedes bowed and did as the king demanded.

The Armada was in desperate straits. Food for thirty-seven thousand people drained their resources on board and even strict rationing would only prolong the inevitable.

"They turned us down," Darien thundered that evening as he paced back and forth in Stuart’s parlor. Better that he displays his temper in privacy than in public, Stuart thought, and let him vent. "The ungrateful bastards! I will never lift a hand to help them again, ever!"

Prince Erich overheard many rumors, and he needed his powerful family’s reassurance. Stuart’s calm demeanor comforted him, but Darien’s fury was alarming.

"Leopold was right about one thing," Stuart told Darien. “They are in a tight spot and with us gone, who would protect them? All they have is their foodstuffs and potables to trade with other worlds. They cannot afford a war on their land, and they cannot afford offending the Shargassi without us to champion them."

"Then perhaps we should re-settle on Borelliat," Darien muttered as he continued to pace. “They would be sure of protection then.”

"Are all our friends going to turn us down?" Erich asked.

"Bet on it, boy! Our ‘friends’ consist of people who whined to us for protection because they would not develop their own armament. Uff! I would not be surprised if the next world offers us poison to put us out of our misery."

"Father said the Borelliat were coerced into refusal, that he saw someone listening in the shadows," Stuart said. “Stop it; you are worrying him.” He put an arm around Erich’s shoulders and hugged the nervous teen.

"There will always be someone in the shadows, everywhere we go," Darien answered darkly. "Well, it will not be me. I do not intend to go on the next begging trip. I am staying here rather than hear the proud Thelan turn us down."

Red warning lights flashed, and an alarm sounded. Over the com an override message sounded forth: Battle stations! Battle stations! Shargassi fighters to the fore right of the fleet! This is not a drill!

The Phillipi brothers bolted to their feet and rushed out of the apartment and to the hangers. Erich headed for the bridge, where he stayed in the background to observe his grandfather in command. He felt safe in Lycasis’s presence.

“Give me headings,” Lycasis suggested in a calm, deliberately light manner. “All ships report. Commander Corrin, what do you see?”

“Two warships off of the right of the Tarque with compliment. Ten cruisers below our horizon – they look to cut us off from the silver trace. That is all I can detect, Your Majesty.” Dav Corrin sounded as surprised as everyone else felt.

In the configuration of space flight, ‘below the horizon’ was a relative term since there was no true horizon in a three-dimensional field; the term only meant that if the fleet was moving in the same direction, the area downward from the soles of their feet was ‘below’.

“Perhaps they are watching to see if the Borelliat are lending aid?” a pilot wondered.

“Warship One’s fighters are leading in for a strike,” Linc Shanaugh of the Kellis reported. “They are not spectators.”

“Kellis, go and engage,” Lycasis directed. “Pride of Dane, take her side.”

“With pleasure, Your Majesty!” Helon Cade said cheerfully. “Proud Danesters, to arms!” With the traditional battle cry of their ship, fighters swarmed out from the battlecruiser’s hanger bays and took on the approaching enemy in a ferocious clash of power.

“Morgan, Seetak, Sendenar! The cruisers below are advancing!” Lycasis barked into his com.

“Not for long,” Hartin intoned.

The opposing ships met in a blur of speed and firepower, both sides deftly maneuvering and firing as they swept toward one another. It was a battle of the large ships with the fighters merely strafing the large targets and taking on other fighters one-on-one. The Shargassi acted as if confident they were conducting a mop-up expedition.

“The Solenil can take them,” Darien said eagerly.

“Not yet, Darien. Hold back, there are plenty more. Protect the Freen. This cannot possibly be all they have sent.”

“Yes, Father.” He did not have to wait long, since two of the Shargassi cruisers sped past those engaged in battle to head directly for the seed-shaped ship.

“Now, Solenil! Faed, join him!”

The sleek Solenil lunged forward like a ravenous beast, shooting its powerful armament at the approaching Shargassi ships and scoring heavy damage.

“I have a side frequency, Your Majesty,” reported Lycasis’s first officer, and she turned the com on low for the bridge to hear. It was communication between two of the enemy battlecruisers from below.

“(It is that mean bastard with the small Dreadnaught! Get him! Shaik, take him)!”

“(He is too fast)!”

“(It is just a battlecruiser, just a battlecruiser; do not fear a lowly junk ship)!”

“(Then you come fight him, damn your eyes)!”

“Darien, they are calling the Solenil a junk ship,” the first officer of the Quantid reported.

“Why, I will teach them a lesson!” The Solenil’s speed increased along with its firecover.

“For pity’s sake,” Lycasis said mildly, “Do not encourage His Highness into reckless behavior. Loue, Ellis: go beyond and draw their remaining ships into the fray.”

“At your command,” Stuart agreed from the bridge of the Loue.

“The Seetak has taken damage.”

“The Morgan lost two fighters.”

Lycasis opened a wide-range com channel and addressed any Shargassi who might be listening. “The Shargassi Empire has destroyed our homeworld; are you so frightened that you must pursue our remnants? What is it you want?”

“(We want your power element; we want the fabled Arda liquid)!”

“That is unreasonable.”

“(You will surely die then)!”

“Nothing is sure.” Lycasis changed frequencies and addressed his battleships. “Declare the rheamor’s cry.”

It was the command the rest of the ships waited to hear, the call for a no-holds-barred engagement of all fighting ships including the Quantid. If the Shargassi thought the Thuringi were weakened enough to be bested by twelve ships, they were woefully mistaken. When the powerful Thuringi ships and their seasoned commanders unleashed their firepower, the small Shargassi fighter ships were picked off rapidly. Their battleship commanders decided retreat was the best option, and they took it. As the remaining Shargassi ships entered the wormhole opening, the Thuringi gave a triumphant cry.

“Set out immediately for Thelan,” Lycasis directed, “Now, before they regroup and return. Let them suppose what they wish.” No elaboration was made since their coms might be heard on Borelliat, and Lycasis did not want whoever had been listening in at the throne room of Fields to know they were not taking the trace. He hoped whoever it was did not have access to a Nebular globe to trace their progress. The coms were scrambled in order for status reports to be called in.

The Seetak lost a thruster to its port side; the Sonnet and the Loue suffered damage to their Pleonian shielding. The Morgan lost a forward searchlight and bore concussion point damage, and the Pride of Dane suffered the loss of a com relay including its main screen cam. Wounded crewmen were on every ship. Ten fighters were destroyed, and the loss of the pilots was hard to bear.

But time could not be spent on grief. The Seetak’s thruster was hastily replaced and the other ships were patched up as best as they could manage in order to get underway. When four Shargassi battleships appeared, Lycasis called on Darien.

“Come with the Quantid so we will not risk any more fighters. You have a clear field to use your princely toy and no one else will get in your way.”

At one time Lycasis did not like Darien’s constant tinkering on his ship, believing it was largely for bragging rights to have such a powerful battlecruiser. Now he was grateful to the God of All that Darien took such pride in the Solenil, since its Dreadnaught-class ability was as unexpected as it was deadly for the Shargassi ships. The Quantid’s observation desk windows were all covered in blast shielding, and it was able to rain destruction on the Shargassi battlecruisers. Between Darien’s Solenil and the mighty Quantid, there was little left of the enemy ships. Still, Lycasis was surprised that they did not send anything more powerful than four battleships.

After the Seetak was ready for travel, the Armada set out for the long trek to Thelan. They kept a watchful eye aft for more Shargassi, but none pursued them. Lycasis called his lead ship commanders to the Quantid, where they met in a lounge just off the bridge to discuss the puzzling situation.

“Perhaps when those last four did not return, they finally gave up,” Keleigh suggested.

“That is not likely. They want our Arda liquid very much,” Darien said.

“I wonder why they did not send anything greater than a battleship the first time,” Hartin mused. “I know I saw a Dreadnaught or two when we fled Thuringa. If we are so fierce and their need for Arda liquid is so strong, one might suppose they would have sent the deadliest to finish us off.”

“Perhaps there are worse things that command their attention,” Regar Renaugh said idly.

“Whatever the case, I shall be glad when we reach Thelan,” Helon Cade said. “I do not fancy glancing over my shoulder forever and a day.”

Keeping a watchful eye to the fleet’s stern, everyone was glad when the Armada approached the bounteous world of Thelan many months later. Rationing had every cook counting grains now, and soup was often the main menu item in the dining halls. They could gather as much water as they needed from ice-capped worlds, but food was critical. “Our last great friends," Triton’s poddack instructor told his students. "That is what we thought of the Borelliat, too. We must hope that they will honor our long friendship. If we starve, it will be on Thelan heads."

Speculation over what drove the D’tai and Borelliat to deny aid was all the students talked about as Thelan drew near. “Without Thuringa, Thelan will have to bear the burden of defense. Perhaps they will decide to protect themselves and turn us away, too,” Jersey Renaugh suggested as he, Erich and Echo drank fizzy drinks called wizzars in the Smoke and Mirror, a favorite cadet cantina on the Quantid.

“It is possible, but we cannot presume to know what they have in mind,” Echo Garin pointed out. “Who knows, they are a proud people and may see refusal as a weakness.”

“I do not know,” Triton sighed, “They are also a brash people. I agree with Jersey. They might decide to let us fend for ourselves. Not that we cannot, of course.”

“I wonder how much longer I can stand friak,” Jersey muttered.

Erich did not have much contact with his uncle Darien before the Armada took flight, but he had been immediately enamored of Darien’s bad boy style. Darien’s anti-rule, defy-the-Elders attitude fascinated the teenage prince despite his mother’s best efforts to steer him otherwise, and Darien’s artful command of the mighty Solenil fired the boy’s imagination as nothing else had. He listened attentively as Darien sounded off in the royal quarters one evening.

"After all Father has done for the Stellar Council worlds, they should all have better attitudes toward us. But after these unpleasant surprises we cannot trust anyone, not even the prideful Thelan. I am certainly not going to go there to witness it if it happens. I prefer to hold out hope, but I am a pragmatist after all."

Erich was awash in heavy hero worship. "Yes," he agreed, jutting out his chin defiantly. "No one is going to insult Grandfather again."

“Uff! No one would dare insult Father!”

“No one is going to insult me on Thelan,” Lycasis said mildly. “You are jumping ahead of matters, Darien.”

“But you yourself would have sworn Leopold Van Der Braak would never have turned you down, until he did,” the Warrior Prince pointed out, and Lycasis had to admit it was so.

Lycasis decided it was just as well Darien was not going to the Thelan surface, knowing how touchy he was of late. Lycasis went to Stuart and Aura’s apartment later that evening with a suggestion. “It might be a good time to bring Erich with us to take his place among the princes of Thuringa. Aura, it is past time for this boy to learn the art of diplomacy and there is no telling when he will have the opportunity once we leave Thelan and then after Gali. There is much more to a prince than to know how to properly eat a meal and how to entertain. Diplomacy is something into which he should immerse himself, and this is an excellent opportunity among our greatest friends.”

Aura agreed wholeheartedly. Among the awesome Thelan military might Erich would not be in danger from the Shargassi. He looked strong and confident and even a little sassy in his dress uniform, and Aura was filled with pride for her son. Erich went to the surface of the planet with Lycasis and Stuart and their Naradi Famede. On the brief journey Stuart described the protocol that was to follow, what activities Erich could expect and how he should respond.

If the Stellar Council were compared to a family, then Thelan would easily assume the role of cantankerous uncle or naughty cousin. They were a self-supporting world with many outposts, but they were gregarious and traded with other worlds because they liked variety. Their military might was second only to Thuringa, and only the Borelliat matched their pride in native wines. Like the D’tai, the Thelan enjoyed a commerce-based society but unlike them, Thelan did not believe in growing complacent on their success. Their streets were wide and well tended, since a favorite Thelan habit was a brisk walk to their destination. Distances longer than comfort called for gakkis which were often raced for the sport of it, and distances that required economy of time were handled by flight or a quick ride in a zippuroca, a wheeled vehicle also raced for sport. Thelan was also known for their numerous cantinas, their love of drink and their best-loved pastime, singing.

Even though Darien might have ruffled the quick-to-ruffle pride of the Thelan, the Thelan knew Darien’s personality and would have understood his anger and perhaps overlooked it. But Erich, a young man barely past the cradle of his adolescence, heard little of his father’s explanations and went instead with a chip on his shoulder. He was unaccustomed to Thelan bravado and lightheartedness, and assumed such attributes indicated unreliability. He thought about his friends’ fears and his uncle’s words and believed the Thelan did not take the Thuringi concerns seriously. They did not speak like a people at the edge of danger. They laughed and bragged endlessly about their ruddy libations!

Erich’s icy demeanor was something that until then, no Thelan thought a Thuringi could naturally possess. His complete disdain was inexplicable as he pointed his nose a little higher in the air and refused to shake hands. He was a handsome lad, like a junior Stuart in his lovely classic Thuringi uniform, but his bright yellow eyes held no warmth.

The Thelan customarily offered their best wine during a state visit, and the Phillipis took the goblets in hand. “Take a sip after the leader of the Deaconate makes a toast,” Stuart reminded him in a whisper. “There will be time to remark upon its richness after that.”

Erich sipped the wine, which was far stronger than anticipated and unwelcome to the Aquatic lad’s underdeveloped tastes. He spat out his wine before anyone had a chance to speak and uttered a damning insult to the Thelan. “Uff! I trust this gakki was shot and disposed of, after producing this.”

Stuart froze in horror and Lycasis's countenance went ashen as the Thelan people muttered in resentment. The Thuringi king gave Erich a murderous glance and happened to catch the eye of the closest Naradi Famede, Glendon Garin. One regal eyebrow lifted, and it was all the experienced Thuringi guard needed.

Glendon stamped his foot down hard on the belligerent prince's foot without the need to look down for his target. Erich lurched forward in pain. Without taking his eyes from the Thelan representatives, Glendon brought his elbow sharply down on the young prince's back, and the boy dropped to the floor.

"His Highness must be weak with hunger," Glendon announced calmly. "He has obviously taken leave of his senses. Shall I remove him for treatment, sire?" he asked Lycasis as he stood beside the groaning prince on the floor.

"Yes, by all means," Lycasis replied, equally as calm, as if the Naradi had not smacked his grandson unceremoniously to the floor.

It was precisely the way the Thelan would have handled the situation concerning their rude youth. The Thelan did not consider hard immediate correction cruel, only justified. It resulted in people who knew exactly where the boundary between reasonable and boorish attitude lay, and who took their lumps accordingly when they crossed the line. Glendon hauled Erich upright and slung one of the prince's arms around his shoulders to help him out the door. Once out of sight and hearing of the royal party and their official hosts, Glendon threw the prince up against a wall, unmindful of the onlooking Thelan in the vicinity.

"You stupid little ass!" Glendon hissed. "You might play the hoity-toity princeling all you want among our own, but I am not going to let my wife and daughter starve just because you suddenly got a twist in your shorts! You had better apologize to these people quick and apologize profusely!"

"Or what?" Erich croaked, hurt but still defiant.

"Uff! Or, I will smack you across the galaxy," Glendon threatened. The fierce look in the Naradi's eyes prevented Erich from further comment. Glendon felt a tap on his shoulder, and he turned guardedly to see who it was.

It was one of the main Thelan representatives, a tall sturdy man who smiled in amusement at the angry Thuringi guard. His light brown eyes twinkled as he noted the guard’s grim enthusiasm for punishing the strangely rude prince. "Perhaps it was a dirty glass," the Thelan suggested. "This one is clean. Would you, sir, like to try a taste of our wine?" In his hand he offered a goblet of a hearty red wine. Glendon took it gratefully and sniffed in the aroma. The scent made his tongue want to dance.

"I would consider it an honor," Glendon assured the man, and took a swallow. It was smooth, so pure and clean and tasty with just the right buzz to it to make Thelan wine the sought-after drink that it was. The wide smile on Glendon's face and the heavens-ward look of his eyes said more than words could to the surrounding Thelans. They looked at one another and nodded. "God, this is the stuff!" Glendon sighed. "You are the luckiest people in history to have this nectar in your casks!"

"That is the man!" the Thelan representative laughed. He threw an arm around Glendon and steered him back into the chamber. "Lycasis!" he called out. "Perhaps your grandson is not man enough yet to handle our potables, but your everyman here delights in our – what did you say? – our nectar!" The Thelan assembly laughed, both in relief that the tension was broken and by the look of bliss on Glendon's face. "Of course, we will help you," Glendon's new friend assured King Lycasis. "Why, I happen to know we made a run to Borelliat a while back and have all sorts of extra provisions to offer your people."

"Gunnar Porteau, you are a good man from a good people," Lycasis said gratefully. "Ours has not been an easy journey and your aid is most appreciated."

Glendon recognized the man at last. Lord Gunnar Porteau was an ambassador to the Stellar Council, renowned as an even-tempered and highly respected Thelan noble. The Naradi was doubly glad Lord Porteau witnessed Erich’s punishment. It would not do to offend a titled diplomat with the Thuringi people’s need so great.

Gunnar explained, "Leopold’s behavior is odd in the best of times, but he sent us more than usual last time. I suppose that is the best he could arrange given his circumstances. I wonder if he was coerced somehow into publicly refusing you. The Borelliat are almost as bad as we are to boast about our bountiful world. That he would refuse you now smacks of unspoken trouble."

Another Thelan added, “We have been contacted by the Shargassi with threats should we aid you. Our leadership told them we will aid whomever we wish, and no beaked bullies would determine our goals! A few well-aimed shots at their flagship and they could not get to the wormhole trace fast enough.”

"We appreciate the courage of the Thelan," Stuart replied as he noticed his red-faced son entered the room again. "The Shargassi are not very forgiving."

"The Shargassi! The day those foul creatures bring Thelan under their thumb will be a black day indeed and one that will never be seen, if I and my house can still wield a firearm or sword!" Gunnar Porteau declared. He also caught sight of Erich, who tried not to limp back to the assembled dignitaries. Lycasis waited until his grandson was near to him.

"What have you to say for yourself?" Lycasis growled at his grandson, in a voice that made the Thuringi shiver, and even the Thelan straightened a little.

"I... I ask our Thelan friends for their pardon," Erich said, not certain whether to fear his grandfather or his Naradi guard. "Our... our supplies have been limited and … are aging rapidly. I have not been myself for some time."

The Thelan dignitaries, known as the Deaconate, nodded stiffly. The apology was offered with a sufficiently contrite heart and they accepted it gracefully enough.

Stuart added, “The unexpected break in agreement by the Borelliat has given us all cause for concern, and our children who have never experienced such circumstances before now imagine all manner of fears. They have seen our fair skies and green fields turn brown and die within mere days, and now their worlds consist of gray walls and floors all around them. It has served to bring out the most unpleasant emotions at the most inappropriate occasions.” Erich nodded unhappily but remained silent.

Gunnar Porteau replied, “I understand; my son is at an age now where emotions run high over the strangest of matters, and he is not even burdened with the sort of fears and uncertainties of your people. It is no wonder that your son is so strained.”

The Deaconate dismissed the whole incident from their concerns and opened their storehouses to their Thuringi guests. Lycasis accepted the offer gratefully. As the two superpower’s leaders watched from the wide balcony of the embassy, Thelan supply ships headed toward the Armada even as Thuringi cargo ships landed at the airpark in the distance.

Gunnar Porteau looked around and asked, "But where is General Shanaugh? Surely that great door of a man would be the first to alight our world for a draught of Thelan wine."

"General Maranta Shanaugh is dead," Lycasis stated, and the assembled abruptly became silent. “He died defending our world in its last days.”

The stunned silence made Erich glance around in confusion. He wondered why the news that Thuringa had been destroyed was only met with sympathy and consolation, while the news of a single warrior’s death would result in such stillness.

"We will give him ribbon," Gunnar said quietly, in reference to a tribute of honor that the Thelan gave on rare occasions. "His is a loss that will be keenly felt by us, as well as you."

"Yes," Lycasis said simply. "Your tribute of ribbon would be appreciated by his widow, I am sure."

"His widow? Oh, double the tragedy!" Gunnar exclaimed.

"Triple," Lycasis amended. "His widow is my own daughter, Princess Carrol."

"Damn the Shargassi," Gunnar added.

The Thuringi were given course headings that would take them to four other planets holding supplies for them, and they were overwhelmingly grateful to the Thelan. Even Darien flew down to thank the Thelan councilmen for their generosity, and visibly blanched when he heard the tale of Erich's insult. When he returned to the Quantid, Darien went to Stuart’s quarters to speak to him. Stuart was still on duty, but Erich and Aura were there.

"Good God, boy; doubt all you wish but do not bite the very hand that feels you! You were on a diplomatic mission; what were you thinking?"

"I was just following your lead," Erich explained. "I was not going to let them insult us."

"You fight after an insult, not before," Darien told him. "They were helping us and did not deserve such treatment. Where is your brain?"

Erich deflated as he realized his idol disapproved of his actions. ‘Bad boys’ were always in trouble for a reason, and trouble was incredibly uncomfortable and unpleasant.

"Do not speak to him like that," Aura said to Darien sharply.

Darien glared at her. "If you had not coddled him all these years and let Stuart raise him to take responsibility for his own actions, Chilly, I would not need to. If you had let me help train him –"

"He will become a boor, just like you," she came back.

Darien gave her a tight smile. "Instead, you trained him. Now he is another fool who does not recognize a good thing when he has it." He turned to Erich. “Stay out of the public eye for a while and thank the God of All that your father has the ability to charm the Thelan the way he did. From what I was told, your father’s speech and Glendon Garin’s honesty and quick thinking convinced the Thelan deaconate to open the doors to their warehouses. And of course, after they heard about Maranta, they were exceedingly sympathetic to our plight.”

“I heard Garin struck him; a Naradi striking a Phillipi and in front of the Thelan, too!” Aura was indignant at what she saw as a severe breach of protocol.

“Lieutenant Colonel Garin knows Thelan ways thoroughly, my good woman. They are quick to administer swift and stern punishment to their youngsters for insolence. Do you know Erich compared their wine to gakki piss? Thelan wine, compared to gakki piss? Those proud people were so insulted that if Glendon had not done exactly what he did, they would not have given us a crumb. If the Borelliat ever found out someone insulted Thelan wine and got away with it, the Thelan could never hold their heads up in the marketplace again. The Borelliat would brag of their implied superiority over Thelan wine and there is no telling how far that would spiral into further disaster.

“What is more, Father would have appeared a fool who cannot control his own grandson and perhaps it was such foolishness that lost our planet and not Shargassi kinetic weaponry. Glendon did us all a favor. I dare you to complain to Father about it; I dare you to complain to anyone who dines on Thelan food instead of dwindling friaks.”

Aura said no more; despite Darien’s contempt of authority, she knew he was steeped in the lore of Stellar Council worlds. She was unaware of these repercussions and shivered at the realization of how much what she considered a seemingly insignificant comment could affect. She also knew how much Darien loved and respected his father and he would tolerate no word against the king.

Erich continued to claim an illness made his tongue speak wildly and since his mother Aura agreed that he was sick lately, the Thuringi had to accept this explanation for his nonetheless deplorable words.

The Thelan ultimately got the last word. Just before the Armada departed, an erstwhile Thelan soldier handed Erich a beautifully crafted bottle of honey-golden liquid, with an exquisite silver cap over the sealed cork. "Perhaps when your health returns, young master, you might seek solace in the best that Thelan has to offer you."

That the you was emphasized was not significant until a ginta later when the Armada was well under way again. Erich brought the bottle down to the cantina to share with his father, grandfather, uncle, and others during an unusual but casual night of chat. The bartender opened the bottle for him, poured a glass, and handed it to the young prince. Without even taking in the aroma, Erich gulped down the drink and abruptly threw the contents back up on the floor. Glendon cautiously picked up the cork, sniffed and gagged. He noted the illustration on the bottle label.

He addressed his king with a straight face. "Yes, that is probably the finest liquid a Thelan gakki had to offer to our princeling."

For a moment Lycasis stared at the Naradi. Then he began to laugh, a laugh that started deep down inside, welling up and growing into a tear-inducing roar that overcame even the roar of the cantina crowd. He bent over his grandson and spoke low to the still green-tinged boy, out of hearing from the jovial crowd.

"If you ever pull such an insulting, dangerously stupid move again as you did to the Thelan, I will strike you down myself rather than risk the lives of our people. You should have learned these matters in your studies. From now on you will waste no more time in poddacks or Academy. Her Majesty and I will tutor you exclusively from now on."

"Yes, Grandfather," Erich gasped as he tried to spit the taste of urine out of his system. At the next world that offered supplies, Erich was the very embodiment of appreciation, flattery, and solicitation. All it took to remind him was a glance at the bottle of piss on a shelf by the entry door of their quarters.

The mood of the Armada was dreadful. Despite the cheer of the Thelan’s generosity, the Thuringi people were depressed over the continued perils they faced. To be sure, Gunnar Porteau’s defiant words against the Shargassi were a balm to their wounded souls. Help from the brash and fearless Thelan made the Thuringi glow with gratitude, but the fact that they were now considered the poor relations of the Stellar Council Confederacy of Planets was a bitter pill to swallow.

Darien was especially angry. He had a long scar down his leg received when he helped stop a Shargassi invasion against a D’tai outpost years ago, and Carrol once suffered a broken arm during a medical emergency on the world of Sturbin. Maranta Shanaugh spent countless times defending the Borelliat from a variety of ills be it plague or disasters or aggression. Yes, those worlds were left now to fend for themselves. They became so complacent knowing the Thuringi Air Command would rush to their aid, the agricultural kingdoms never bothered to build their own defenses. None but the Thelan openly lifted a hand to help Thuringa. The Thelan were under constant duress from long-simmering feuds with other worlds, yet they offered bold aid. The next four worlds might offer some aid, but after the last one, the Thuringi would be on their own.

In the royal quarters, Lycasis shook his head wearily. “I should have never allowed her to raise him her way, Oriel. She has thoroughly spoiled the boy. I would have thought that Searl Ardenne’s grandson would have been better behaved than that; I thought surely that anyone as proper and mannerly as Aura would have nipped such scalding behavior in the bud.”

“I thought she was bringing him up well, too. We did not spend enough time with either of them while he was growing up and it has come home to trouble us now. I should have insisted upon tutoring him as royal children ought to be, but there were so many troubles and so many cases to counsel those last years –”

“Pray do not blame yourself, my dear! Our tasks have been increasingly difficult, and we trusted Aura and Stuart to parent him properly.”

“But Stuart has tried. I have seen him try to reprimand Erich for some transgression, and she would throw a fit and have none of it! Oh, Maranta tried to warn me things were not quite right concerning the boy’s behavior, but I did not really listen as I ought. I am afraid I…well, that I was somewhat condescending to him. He was a single warrior and Quentin brought him up extremely strict. I feared he saw everyone as being too soft; goodness knows Darien has always defied convention. Thankfully, we had our good lad Stuart to balance out our rascal.”

“And Carrol broke the tie despite both our best efforts! Well, we have one of the Garin clan to thank for getting us out of a terrible position, but you and I really must do a better job with Erich from now on. I swear that boy is just as troublesome as his uncle Darien and it is plain to see Aura’s no help.”

“Whatever came over you back on Thelan?" Triton asked Erich in the Smoke and Mirror after consue practice one day. Erich was not about to approach the doorway of the Standard again for a long time.

"Oh, you know very well it was sheer stupidity," Erich fumed at him, and then caught himself. "That was not fair to snap at you, I apologize. But it was stupid of me, I know," he said as he toyed with his glass of wizzar. "I was angry. Uncle Darien is right about the Stellar Council. None of them so much as nods at us unless there is some silly little squabble going on that they do not want to bother with themselves. If something threatened them, we were the first ones they ran to and ducked under to hide. Our people have shed a great amount of blood for the sake of the Borelliat and the D'tai, and for what? For us to view their backsides in our time of need?"

"Do we do things for people in expectation of repayment?" Triton asked him. "I thought it was because it was the right thing to do."

"Yes, and is not helping us out when our whole world is destroyed, the right thing for them to do?" Erich demanded. "I simply got angry at the wrong people, at the wrong time. Ugh!" He could still recall the taste of Thelan gakki piss some Thelan soldiers put in a false bottle to give the prince as a gift.

Lyra Medina entered the bar with a senior cadet and sat with him as they shared a pair of wizzars. "She had better be careful; I have heard that fellow she has in attendance has Brent Ardenne for a hero," Erich noted.

"You have Darien Phillipi for an uncle," Triton shrugged, "I do not see why you are so smug."

"I am not smug, and Uncle Darien is not my hero," Erich told her.

"Who is?" Triton asked. He assumed Erich never needed a hero; his self-assurance was just this side of self-aggrandizing and had been ever since Triton could remember.

"Why, my grandfather of course," Erich replied the most obvious answer, and Triton should have guessed. "He rules with a mighty hand, he is wise, he is good."

"What about your father?"

Erich gave a short laugh. "My father is also a good man but honestly, he is so wander bound! Mention missions or war or diplomacy, and he is ready to tell a first-hand tale. Always rushing off to do great deeds, like his Maranta Shanaugh."

"What is wrong with that?" Triton wondered aloud. Erich shook his head and took another swallow of wizzar.

"Oh, do not get me wrong, I do not dare speak out against The Legend," Erich said. He lowered his voice for Triton's ears only. "Do you think me mad? No one speaks ill of The Great Holy Maranta."

"Erich!" Triton was aghast.

"It is true. The way people carry on about him, it is a wonder the Bishop has not included his sword as an icon on the altar. I do not trust a warrior with that kind of following, Triton."

"Simply admiring the man is not akin to deifying him," Triton said defensively.

"No, not if it is simple admiration of which you speak. Aunt Carrol practically has a shrine built in his honor in her quarters! Well, she used to. Now it may very well contain icons from her new suitor."

"Oh, that is just talk. I have met Gareth Duncan; he seems quite nice; a little rough, but nice."

"I did not say he was not; just that he is always around."

"So? If he makes her happy, where is the harm?"

"No harm! I think it is actually quite big of her to go straight from God to Man in suitors."

Triton stared at him, thunderstruck. "No wonder the Thelan gave you bottled gakki piss!" He tossed the contents of his drink at his cousin. "You could incite a vicar to criminal intent!"

Erich threw his drink on Triton. "Stating my opinion is still my right and defending the state of the monarchy is my duty!"

"Oh, my joy!" bellowed the bartender from behind the counter. "The Smoke and Mirror is not going to be a brawling house for a junior grade Darien Phillipi and a Brent Ardenne the Lesser! If you want to fight, go to the Standard where they tolerate that sort of thing." The two cousins continued to glare at each other as they left the Smoke and Mirror and grimly wiped the liquid from their faces, much to the amused speculation of the patrons of the fizz bar.

"A legacy is passed down!" yowled a senior cadet, and many glasses of fizz were raised in enthusiast agreement.

"Take back what you said about Maranta Shanaugh," Triton warned between clenched teeth as they made their way down the hallway.

"I will not. He was a warrior, a simple soldier, Triton. He was not an object of worship. He was a blindly stupid killer in the name of the crown, that is all."

"You istay!" Triton bellowed as he hit his cousin hard on the shoulder with his fist. "I might remind you, that crown will be on your head some day and you had better thank the God of All that simple killers do the crown's bidding so that you do not have to, yourself."

Erich stormed away to the royal quarters. It was certainly not the first argument the two ever had, but it was one of the most bitter. Triton always carried on about soldiery on the side of the ordinary man. Well, Erich was not ordinary; he was a Phillipi. There were some days when Erich did not especially like it, but he would not deny his heritage, either.

His grandfather was on the bridge, as usual; his grandmother currently attended to whatever common task she could do. To Erich, the thought of his frail grandparent doing difficult manual labor angered him. She was happy to do her part, but Erich would have preferred a less strenuous role for her. Her Naradi Thurman Garin offered to do such tasks in addition to his own, but neither she nor the people who drew up the duty lists would allow it. Other Thuringi offered to work for their queen out of love and concern for her but were turned down. Darien had several arguments with the Hours office about it, but the mistake continued to re-occur.

The throne room was empty at the moment, to Erich's relief. He disliked his grandfather’s advisors as much as his grandfather sometimes did. A king should be allowed to rule alone, and not have to listen to the whine of the people. Heed advice, yes; heed petulance, no.

He gently rubbed the carved Dorea wood along the back of the throne. Such a thing of beauty! Elegant and firm, lovely and noble, the throne of Lycasis was a masterful work of art. Erich turned slowly to admire the portraits on the walls of kings and other honored persons of Thuringa: a bishop here, a martyr in war there. His gaze finally rested on the most recent portrait, and Erich's lips pursed tightly. He left the throne to stand before the portrait of Maranta Shanaugh. Erich’s fists rested on his hips and his legs were braced in a defiant stance.

"You, you were no God; you were no saving grace to our people. Your mighty deeds and noble words, what have they bought for you? A grave! Turning to dust beneath some old tree on a dead planet; a planet your holy might could not save, I might add," he said to the portrait, as if it could hear. The deep-set eyes appeared to look directly at him, the slender nose held defiantly upward by the outward thrust of the celebrated hero’s firm jaw.

"My father is a respected fighter and diplomat; he has excellent skills and has done great things for our people. But to whom do the poets write sonnets? A soldier's son! My grandfather is the King of Thuringa but whose name is spoken more reverently? A Warrior General’s! What did you hope to gain by garnering such acclaim, son of Quentin, high-ranking grunt of the Armed Command?" He ventured closer to the portrait. "Yes, no doubt your bed beckoned my aunt into it; you are indeed a lordly figure of a man. Did you plan to simply amuse yourself with her, or did you envision marriage to the Thuringi princess all along? Perhaps one day your children might challenge me for the throne?"

His voice echoed off the walls of the throne room, and for a moment in time he fell fearfully silent lest anyone heard him. The very thought further angered him. Why should he worry if anyone heard this Thuringi blasphemy? Maranta Shanaugh was just a dead Warrior General; he did not deserve the kind of reverence accorded to him now. Maranta Shanaugh this, Maranta Shanaugh that! If the man had ever coughed, would the account of it be found in the holy books at services, perhaps with footnotes to define the timbre and duration?

"Your duty was clear, and you did it well, but you failed to rise from the dead; you are no miracle achiever after all. Why then does no one else of Thuringa realize this? You were just a common warrior and I; I am a royal prince of Thuringa," he said evenly to the portrait. "I will see to it that lustful, brawling, killing machines like you will do all my fighting for me, thank you. The throne you fought so hard to protect will remain in the hands of the Phillipi."

The stare of the eyes penetrated the conscience of the haughty young prince, and he felt a strange chill come over him. He shook himself as if to break free of a grasp. "I do not fear you anymore. You cannot order me about and convince Father and Grandfather that you do it for my own good! My mother will not cry over some hideous slight from your impertinent mouth, and sigh over you in the next breath! There will never be another one like you," Erich told the portrait. "No one will ever again be all things to all men." He turned on his heels as he walked out and slammed the door behind him.

The eyes in the portrait of Maranta Shanaugh glowed briefly.