Scourge: Book Two of the Starcrown Chronicles

Scourge:

Book Two of the Starcrown Chronicles

by Jon Gerrard

Copyright 2014 Jon Gerrard

Smashwords Edition

Cover by Dane Low

Other books by Jon Gerrard

Shadowplay: Book One of the Starcrown Chronicles

Tae Kwon Do:

The Ultimate Reference Guide to the World’s Most Popular Martial Art

Black Belt Tae Kwon Do

To my favorite girls:

D, Shay and Puka

Chapter One

The interstellar commercial transport Dawn Star had been plying the space lanes for more than six years since she and her sister ship, the Evening Star, had first been put into service. While she could no longer be considered new she was still a relatively young ship, especially by today’s standards. Because of the heavy tolls the shipping industry was taking as a result of the increasing pirate activity, transport companies were keeping ships in service for longer and longer periods of time. Quite simply, the profits were not there to purchase new ships.

But Captain Ernesto Chavez was not complaining. His ship was one of the youngest in the company’s fleet. Six years was more than enough time to work through any break-in problems, not that there had been many. Built by the renown multinational ship builder, Empyrean Technologies Corporation, the Dawn Star had proven herself to be sound. Over the past few years she had logged more light-years than many ships twice her age without any major problems. She was comfortably broken in like a favorite pair of shoes. In fact that’s how her captain liked to think of her: comfortable. And like a favorite pair of shoes she had adapted to suit her user’s needs. Right now for Captain Chavez that meant his chair on the bridge. One thing he insisted on was that no one but him sat in that chair. Over the years the padding had formed to the contours of his body until it fit like an old shoe.

The captain settled back into his chair and sipped his morning mug of coffee as he scratched at his ample stomach which hung over his belt. On the bridge with him were his first officer, Sasha Goodkin, and the helmsman, Anton Kozlov. Kozlov was young, barely nineteen. This was his first time aboard the Dawn. Like most of the crew he was newly hired by the company at a salary far less than what the former, more experienced helmsman had been paid. Cutbacks had forced the ship’s owner, the Star Transportation Combine, to reduce personnel to skeleton crews throughout their fleet.

Easy money, eh, Sasha? the captain said to his first officer. Unlike the young helmsman, the first officer had been with the company for many years, having worked her way up from assistant navigator, a position which no longer existed.

If you say so, Ernie, she answered. The first officer couldn’t have disagreed with the captain more.

Oh, come on, Sasha, we’re getting pay and a half plus an on time bonus for a short hop. You’re not trying to tell me you object to getting paid extra to do what we would normally be doing anyway?

Of course not, Sasha said as she studied the sensor display. I’d just like to get back in one piece to be able to spend it.

Chavez laughed. You worry too much. There hasn’t been any pirate activity in this sector for more than nine months.

That’s because the company usually sends out convoys of ships, Sasha thought, but kept her comments to herself. In her mind the captain was foolish not to worry about being targeted. They were alone on this trip, easy pickings for any pirate who came along. That was why she was keeping an eye on the sensors. They were away from the usual shipping lanes so there shouldn’t be anyone else around. If they did pick up a ship in the area she planned to make sure they gave it a wide berth, even if it meant sacrificing their quick delivery bonus. Their engines were in good shape and she was confident that they could stay ahead of any ship that did try to run them down, at least long enough to reach port. The trick was to pick them up on long range scan while they were still far enough away to make a run for it.

In a gesture of acknowledgment of the potential danger, the company was allowing them to carry side arms for the first time. Chavez wore his like a badge of honor, although Sasha doubted if he even knew how to fire it. This was assuming of course that he could even draw the pistol with his holster obstructed as it was by his prodigious belly. Kozlov, on the other hand, seemed nervous about having his strapped on. Sasha hoped the kid didn’t try to draw it. He’d likely shoot himself in the foot. As for herself, Sasha had hers securely locked in her cabin safe. She figured that if armed pirates ever did board the ship she wanted to give them as little reason as possible to want to shoot her.

Satisfied that there was nothing in range of their sensors, she began a quick review of the other boards to check on the ship’s status. She picked up a stylus and did a quick walk across the bridge, checking off items on her flatpad. All systems were running smoothly. Once she finished, she gave the pad to the captain for his review and signature then went back to the sensor console to run another scan.

Normally she wouldn’t bother running scans every few minutes. The system could be set to scan automatically and alert them if anything turned up in scan range. Then again, normally they were cruising the regular shipping lanes as part of a convoy. Two or three ships traveling together were too much for a single pirate ship to swallow. For over a year now the company had been sending its ships out in convoys. So far that tactic had kept away pirate attacks but it had other impacts on the business as well. Shipping costs had gone up dramatically since transports were deadheading for one or more legs of each trip. But whether they were carrying cargo or not those ships still burned fuel and still had crews aboard that needed to eat and breathe. To help offset these costs, in addition to raising transportation fees and laying off a sizable percentage of their work force, the company had also cut salaries across the board by twenty-five percent.

Sasha had a mortgage and a daughter entering college. The cut in salary had really hurt, but she figured she was better off than everybody who had lost their jobs. That was why she agreed to do this run when Chavez told her what the company was offering. She wasn’t as impressed as he seemed to be about being paid one and a half times the normal rate. She had done the math and calculated that since they had already reduced her salary by twenty-five percent, the ‘incentive pay’ as they were calling it amounted to only slightly more than what her old salary used to be. And when you figured in the extra tax she’d have to pay because she would be pushed into a higher tax bracket for this pay period, what she would actually take home was just about what her current salary was. But meager as it was it was extra money she could not afford to pass up. She just kept praying that no pirates happened across them while they were out here.

When her second scan also turned up nothing, she started to relax. They were more than halfway through the trip and would be off loading their cargo in another thirty-nine hours, when they would pick up their bonuses. It did seem a little odd to her that there was such a fuss being made over mining equipment, which is what their cargo consisted of. A company called Intrepid Enterprises had apparently discovered extensive mineral deposits on the moon of a gas giant in a remote star system. They were willing to pay above the usual rate to have the equipment shipped to them as quickly as possible. Sasha could only suppose they must have come across some pretty valuable ores. Maybe Intrepid Enterprises would pick them up as a regular client and contract with them to ship the ore back to one of the refining platforms. Regular trips would mean the company would be sending convoys, not single ships, out this way. That would be fine with Sasha. It was creepy being out here all alone.

She had just set the system to automatic scan and was about to turn away when she thought she saw something on the screen. She stopped and stared hard, waiting to see if it would return. A few moments later it was there again. Whatever it was it was barely registering on the ship’s sensors. It was almost like the wake effect of a ship moving at high speed, but the sensors weren’t reading any ships anywhere near them.

Ernie, come take a look at this, she called to the captain without taking her eyes off the screen.

Captain Chavez heaved himself out of his chair to waddle over to the sensor console.

Have you got something? he asked, and took a long pull on his coffee.

It comes and goes. It’s almost like–there! Sasha said when the strange return appeared briefly again.

Chavez had never seen anything like it. He tapped the display with his fingers. Glitch?

I don’t think so, Sasha said. Whatever it is its close. Let me try a short range scan. It’ll give better resolution. She switched the sensors to short range. At first the screen remained blank, then there was a faint return. It’s coming from astern.

Neither Ernie nor Sasha had any military experience. They had no idea that what they were tracking was the wake effect of an incoming torpedo, an electronically stealthed missile that was locked onto their ship.

That’s the damnedest thing I ever saw, Chavez said when the signal popped up briefly again and faded almost at once. He tried to adjust the sensor resolution but couldn’t get a better image. He quit fiddling with the controls after a moment, shrugged and turned back to his seat to focus on his unfinished coffee. Make a note to have maintenance look at it. It’s probably just a ghost image.

I don’t think so Ernie, Sasha said as she watched the image briefly pop up onto the screen again. It doesn’t look like any kind of false sensor reflection I’ve ever seen. I think there’s something out there.

Come on, Sasha, if there was something out there the collision alert would have–

At that moment the shrill warbling of the collision alert claxon sounded on the bridge. Chavez started and dropped his coffee, staring open mouthed at his first officer.

Sasha reacted to the warning claxon immediately, but it was already too late.

Evasive starboard! she yelled to the helmsman.

Kozlov had nearly jumped out of his boots at the sound of the alarm claxon. He stood frozen with panic for several seconds until the first officer’s words finally worked their way into his consciousness. Looking down he grabbed the pilot wheel and tried to steer the ship to starboard but the yoke wouldn’t budge.

I ... I can’t! It won’t move! he cried out.

Sasha sprang toward him. The autopilot! Disengage the auto–

Before she could reach him they felt the ship shudder violently around them. Warning lights began blinking from several of the consoles as the main viewscreen flashed, showing their sudden return to normal space. A quick glance at the engine monitor board showed that their drive system had failed.

Captain Chavez jabbed at the intercom. Engine room, come in!

He was answered only by static.

* * *

The pirate sub Wraith disengaged its stealth system as it neared the crippled transport. The torpedo had done its work and knocked out the ship’s engines, forcing it to drop out of hyperspace. As the sub approached the helpless ship a signal jammer was activated to prevent the crew from calling for help. This was not the first time the pirates had taken down a transport and the crew moved with experienced efficiency. The sub pulled alongside the transport and fired a series of magnetic grapple lines. There was a brief electrical display along the grapple lines, like lightning strikes in space, as the static charges of the ships hulls were cancelled out. Then the sub began winching the two ships together. Even though the pirate ship was nearly two hundred meters in length, the transport was half again as long. But the pirates knew that the ship’s holds were only partially filled. What she was carrying would easily fit in their own cargo spaces.

A docking sleeve extended from the pirate ship as the two vessels drew closer. As soon as the ships were locked together and the docking sleeve sealed against the transport’s cargo hatch, a team of pirates wearing space armor took up positions in the sleeve. Precisely placed, shaped charges blew the outer hatch on the transport and the raiders swarmed into the ship.

* * *

On the bridge of the Dawn Star, Captain Chavez was starting to panic. He still couldn’t raise the engine room and a few moments ago they had felt a second explosion vibrate through the ship. The sensors showed that a ship had grappled onto their port hull–a ship that appeared out of nowhere when there had been nothing within range of their sensors only moments before.

Engine room, answer! This is the bridge! What’s going on down there? Chavez yelled into the intercom.

The young helmsman, Koslov, stood frozen at his post, his hands clutching the manual steering yoke in a death grip. His entire body was trembling as he stood with his eyes staring blindly ahead, sweat beading his forehead.

Engine room, come in! Chavez tried again.

They’re not going to answer, Ernie, Sasha said, not bothering to hide the contempt in her voice. She had been following the pirates’ actions as best as she could using the ship’s sensors. She knew that they had locked onto their hull and were probably already aboard. It was only a matter of time before the raiders made their way to the bridge.

Her mind raced through possibilities. Staying to face the invaders was her least favorite option. From what little she did know about how they operated, the pirates never left any living crew aboard the ships they attacked. The stories she’d heard were that the crew was either murdered to a man or missing whenever a hijacked ship was found. Neither of these choices was appealing to her. In seconds she’d made up her mind. This was a big ship. There were dozens of places she could hole up until the pirates finished ransacking the transport and left. If the rumors were to be believed the pirates didn’t scuttle the ships they victimized so she should be able to survive until the ship was discovered. It was as if they left the derelict hulks adrift on purpose to unnerve the public. If that was their aim it was working.

Having made her decision, Sasha spun around and hurried toward the exit.

Chavez looked up as she rushed across the bridge. Where are you going?

Anywhere but here, she answered without breaking stride.

A moment later she hit the hatch control and froze in the doorway as the door slid aside. From the far end of the passage that led to the bridge she heard the heavy tread of booted feet approaching. Bulky shadows played on the distant bulkhead where the passageway came to a T intersection. She was too late.

Sasha started backing onto the bridge as the armored figures appeared at the end of the corridor and turned toward her.

Sasha, what is it? Chavez said when he saw her expression.

Sasha didn’t answer. She just kept backing into the bridge, her eyes locked on the advancing figures. After a moment Chavez could hear the approaching footfalls as well. Heaving his bulk up from his seat he started toward the hatch as he reached for the holstered laser pistol at his belt. He fumbled with the holster for a moment then reached across with his free hand to hold his belly out of the way so he could draw the weapon. A moment later the first of the pirates reached the bridge. At the same instant Chavez managed to free his pistol.

What is the meaning of this illegal boarding of my ship? Chavez demanded as he looked into the mirrored visor of the pirate’s armored suit.

Although the transport captain hadn’t even aimed his weapon, as soon as the pirate saw the pistol in his hand he reacted. Swinging his blaster rifle up in a practiced arc he squeezed off a single shot directly into the captain’s face. A small hole appeared in his forehead while the entire back of his skull was blown away in a cone of spraying gore. His body jerked once, then he toppled like a statue, an expression of surprise frozen on his features.

The pirate took in the scene on the bridge quickly as the other three men in his team entered behind him and spread out. Apart from the body on the floor there was only the woman backed up against a console and the skinny youth standing frozen in front of the helm.

Who’s in charge here? the pirate demanded, his voice projecting from the suit’s external speaker.

Sasha glanced from Chavez’s corpse to the rifle in the pirate’s hands and answered without hesitation, You are.

Several minutes later Sasha found herself and the terrified helmsman being prodded into line with the rest of the ship’s crew in the passage outside the main cargo hold. The massive doors to the hold had been opened and row after row of stacked shipping containers could be seen within the cavernous space.

Of the total compliment of twelve crew members aboard, only nine were present, and one of them was wounded. Perkins, the engineer, had been shot in the leg and was sitting on the deck. The missing three crew members, including the captain, had been killed by the pirates when they took the ship.

The pirate who had shot the captain appeared to be the leader of the boarding party. He gave a series of orders to his men and turned back to the prisoners as half of the raiders jogged into the hold to inventory the cargo. At a motion from the leader, one of his men set an oversized case down on the deck and opened it. He took several obedience collars out of the case and began locking the metal rings around the necks of the prisoners while the rest of the pirates covered them with their weapons. When the pirate with the collars reached the wounded man, the leader stopped him.

Perkins had been shot in the thigh and a fist sized chunk of flesh had been blasted away. A tourniquet above the wound had stopped most of the bleeding but his pants leg was thick with blood and he couldn’t stand. The pirate leader gave the leg a casual kick, sending the engineer into a fit of writhing and groaning. Without a moment’s hesitation the pirate lowered the muzzle of his pulse blaster and fired a quick burst into the man’s chest. Perkins spasmed as the shots ripped through his body, then slumped down against the base of the bulkhead, blood running from his sagging mouth and mixing with what was pooling on the deck beneath him.

The transport crew huddled together at the sight of the casual murder of their shipmate. They stared in wide eyed horror at the pirate leader who stood to one side and watched in an almost bored manner as his man continued fitting the rest of them with the electronic collars. Once each of them had been fitted with a collar the leader slung his rifle on his shoulder, reached up and removed his helmet.

Okay, ladies and gentlemen, you’re going to get in there and start transferring your cargo to our ship, the pirate ordered. "And keep in mind that I’m on a tight schedule. Don’t make me late."

Even using the power loaders it took the crew more than three hours to offload the cargo under the watchful eyes of the pirates. When the last of the shipping containers was finally secured aboard the pirate’s ship the exhausted transport crew was directed into a smaller hold aboard the sub and locked in. Healthy slaves were worth as much as twenty thousand Solars each. That translated into about a hundred and sixty thousand for the transport crew alone. The money they would get for the prisoners on top of what the Brotherhood had promised them for delivering the transport’s cargo amounted to quite a tidy sum. Not bad for a few hours work.

As soon as the prisoners were secured the pirates sealed their airlock and cast off from the ravaged transport, leaving the empty hulk to drift through the interstellar void. Minutes later the pirate sub Wraith activated its stealth system and disappeared.

Chapter Two

My left buttock had fallen asleep.

I shifted my weight to my right hip and clenched my jaw to stifle a yawn. I couldn’t believe that the debating over my bill had been going on like this for the past five hours. Actually, that’s not true. I’d been sitting in on most of the Senate sessions over the past six months and I knew how heated the arguing could get. I also couldn’t help wondering what anyone following the events at home must be thinking as they saw their elected representatives behaving like belligerent school children. Of course, that’s assuming anyone was actually watching. The Senate broadcasts were at the bottom of the ratings chart.

Six months ago, when I had first been returned to the throne, just the opposite had been the case. The observer galleries had been packed for weeks as news crews televised everything taking place in the senate chamber. My uncle had barred the press from senate sessions years earlier. But as soon as I reversed that policy people clamored to get a view into the political processes that were shaping the nation.

There was also a sudden fascination with anything I did. It was understandable, given that I had suddenly returned from the dead, but a real pain in the ass. I couldn’t go anywhere without having a horde of reporters swarming after me and shouting questions. Since then, as things settled into a routine, public interest had slowly faded away. I didn’t blame people. Watching a parade of politicians drone on with their opinions about different proposals wasn’t exactly riveting entertainment. If I didn’t have to be here I wouldn’t be watching either.

Today however something I was personally invested in was up for discussion on the floor. Over the past few months I had put together a bill that I was calling the Public Works Initiative to help combat the rising unemployment rate throughout the kingdom. The impact of the pirate attacks on the interstellar shipping industry was sending serious ripples throughout the entire economy.

Gilead, like most of the other star nations, was struggling through one of the most severe economic recessions in history. While the situation hadn’t worsened since I had returned to the throne, things hadn’t gotten much better either. People needed a way to earn an income and my bill would help them do just that. I knew it wasn’t a permanent solution, but it was a start. Which is why I was annoyed about all of the objections that were being raised.

Most Senators were supporting the bill in its basic form, but opposition had cropped up over a number of specific items. The current issue under debate was whether or not people on public assistance should be required to work, as my bill stipulated. Opponents to the measure were describing the types of things I wanted people to do as ‘make work’. I considered it a way of teaching responsibility. I saw no reason for healthy, able bodied adults to sit around and collect a check without giving something back in exchange.

At several points during the day I had come close to stepping in and simply commanding the legislature to adopt my bill and move on. Remembering Morgan’s advice however, I held myself back and didn’t try to force the issue. He kept reminding me that it was important for me to understand opposing viewpoints if I were to govern effectively. It was also important to let the people see that I wasn’t expecting their elected representatives to behave like a bunch of compliant lap dogs who would simply rubber stamp anything I said. Of course, on the other side of the coin were the heated arguments that I then had to sit through while different senators competed with each other to enlighten us all with their insightful opinions.

Days like this could be mind numbing.

Dragging my attention back to what was happening on the floor, I listened briefly to the two senators who were trading thinly veiled insults and decided that I had heard enough. Nothing that had been said during the hours the bill had been up for discussion had changed my mind. If anything, I was more determined than ever to see it enacted.

I rose to my feet and all talking ceased.

Senators, I began as I swept my gaze around the room from atop my dais, "I have been listening to your reactions to this bill over the past several hours and I still remain committed to my original course. While we sit here and debate minutiae, there are people throughout our star systems that are at risk of losing everything they have worked a lifetime to achieve. Far too many of my subjects need a way to generate an income and this bill will accomplish that. Moreover, we need to begin to move away from this entitlement mindset the nation seems to have developed over the past several years. The government is not something that exists to bail people out of every problem that arises in their lives. While the Crown will never turn its back on those in need, it is my intention to put an end to this practice of simply paying people whenever they have fallen on hard times. People need to understand that they have to give something back in exchange for the aid they are receiving."

I paused briefly, fixing my gaze on the one Senator I knew to be the primary architect of the movement opposing me. Hamilton Fiske had never gotten over being humiliated by me on the day I returned to power. Since then, he had taken every opportunity to be a thorn in my side.

Of course, I wouldn’t be in this situation at all if I had allowed Admiral Magnus to execute him six months ago as an enemy of the state. Although I had reversed my order at the last moment, no one but me knew how close I had come to actually allowing the firing squad to carry out their orders. The truth was that I detested Fiske. To me he represented everything that was wrong with our society.

Fortunately, most of the others gave him a wide berth. Fiske, along with a group of hard core right wingers who had also backed Sebastian’s actions when he occupied the throne, had become personae non gratae in the Senate. And ever since I had negated their appointments to the various Senate committees they used to sit on, they had the time to stir up trouble.

But that time was coming to an end. One way or another I was going to see some major changes in the Senate. Right now however I had more pressing matters demanding my attention. I held Fiske’s eyes for a moment longer then looked away, dismissing him from my thoughts like the minor irritant he was.

The bottom line, ladies and gentlemen, is that I want action on this bill. Find a way to work out your problems and have something on my desk by the end of the week. I will be happy to consider any reasonable amendments you would like to propose which do not change the focus of what I am trying to accomplish, but keep in mind that the purpose of this bill is to get our economy moving again. Our people are hurting and I am determined to do whatever it takes to help get my subjects back on their feet. I flicked a quick glance in Fiske’s direction and saw the venom in his eyes.

I’ll leave you to it, I finished.

Everyone stood and bowed as I made my way down the dais stairs and strode from the room.

As soon as I stepped out of the Senate Chamber I paused, giving myself some time to cool down. Behind me the marine guards on duty slowly closed the massive doors. Because the Senate was in session, this area of the capitol was closed to the general public and I found myself in a blissfully empty corridor, a rarity in the capitol. As I stood calming my nerves I wondered if I was cut out for politics. I didn’t seem to have the patience for all of the bull that was involved. More and more often I found myself wanting to cut through the layers of politically correct nonsense to get to the heart of the matter while everyone else seemed content to dance around whatever the issue was.

Maybe I should try to be like the more experienced politicians and move more slowly. Many of them had held their seats for more years than I had been living. That experience had to count for something. Then again, maybe it was time things got shaken up a little. The nation was going through difficult times. I needed solutions to some serious fiscal and social problems, and I needed them now. Maybe it was the established politicians who needed to have their trees rattled. Maybe they needed to be more aggressive in their thinking.

Maybe, maybe, maybe. With fifty star systems and billions of subjects to be responsible for, I didn’t like not being sure that I was doing the right thing. One thing I was certain of—if whatever I was doing upset Senator Fiske, then I had to be on the right track. I suppressed a chuckle at that thought.

Now that I had my temper under control I started toward the central rotunda. Then I remembered that the Libertarian Coalition was holding a rally at the capitol this afternoon. Their demonstrations always drew large crowds with heavy media coverage and the last thing I wanted right now was to have to talk to the press.

The Coalition was an interesting by product of modern society. Essentially they were a group that was dissatisfied with the boundaries imposed on individual behavior. They believed that people should have the complete freedom to behave however they wanted. Their core focus was usually vice issues. For years they had been advocating the legalization of prostitution, gambling and drugs. They had actually build up quite a following over time and some of their most vocal proponents were highly respected members of the intellectual community—college professors, scientists and mental health professionals. Unfortunately for them, they had trouble organizing themselves effectively. One of their pet bugaboos was a distrust of authority. They felt that giving one person the authority to make decisions for a group was oppressive. Therefore, everything they did was decided by committee, with each member having an equal voice. As a result it took them forever to get anything done. While their demonstrations always made for interesting tri-vid, they had little actual effect in the legislature.

Today’s rally was going to be a departure from their normal demonstrations. Recently they had added a new plank to their platform. Along with their focus on vice issues, the group had decided that public nudity was something that needed to be addressed. Personally I was more amused by this turn events than anything else. Most people’s bodies were not something I would want to see naked. I also doubted that health codes would allow people without clothing to sit on chairs in places of public assembly, especially where food was served. But if this was what they wanted to focus their energies on I had no objections.

Morgan was constantly chiding me for allowing the Coalition to hold their rallies at the capitol. But their paperwork was always in order, thanks to the high profile attorneys they kept on retainer, and there really was no legal reason for me to deny their requests. Besides, I actually found some of their arguments interesting, not that I had ever confessed that to Morgan. Today, however, I did not have the time for their moralistic posturing.

Since I didn’t want to be cornered by the reporters who were doubtless stalking the capitol corridors in search of a sound bite, I decided to avoid the public areas altogether and detoured toward the private, back hallways. It was a more roundabout route but one that allowed me to get back to my apartment undisturbed.

After making my way through a series of connected hallways for several minutes I finally emerged in the residential wing. Several strides later I was turning into the corridor that led to my private rooms. At the end of the hall I saw that Alan Thatcher was the protective service agent posted at the door. I could also tell that he was bored out of his mind. Although the duty agents’ shifts rotated every hour to keep them alert, I understood how monotonous it must be to just stand in one place and stare at the wall.

What’s the good word, Alan? I said as I strode up to him.

Good afternoon, Your Highness, Alan said, perking up at my appearance. It looks like the Wolverines are going to be in the championships again this year. They crushed the Bolts 7 to 2! The Wolverines was the local soccer team. It was nearing the end of the season and the finals were only a few weeks away. I was usually too busy to catch most of the games myself so Alan kept me up on how all the local teams were doing.

Was there ever any doubt? I said. I heard Scott Logan scored five of the goals himself.

It was incredible, Sire. You should have seen it. He was like a man possessed. The other team couldn’t touch him.

We spent a few minutes discussing the Wolverines’ latest game and the feats of athletic prowess their star player had exhibited on the field.

So, are we in the pool? I eventually asked. There was always a sports pool of some kind among the PSA staff. I had given Alan fifty solars at the beginning of the season and had him place my bets with his. So far our winnings totaled more than six hundred solars.

Absolutely. I’ve got us down for the Wolverines to win by 4.

You just keep on picking winners and we’ll have one hell of an end of season party.

I had promised to use my winnings for a PSA staff a party if the Wolverines won the championship.

It’s in the bag, Sire, Alan promised as I glanced at the retinal scanner and the door to my apartment slid aside. I clapped him on the shoulder and entered the suite.

It was quiet in the entry foyer when the door closed behind me. The space I was standing in was an elongated oval with twin, curving staircases on both sides leading up to the bedrooms and other private areas on the second floor. Portraits of each of the previous Gilead kings and queens lined the walls along the stairs. There was even one of my uncle, Duke Sebastian. Although he had taken the throne illegally, I kept him there to remind me how easily the power of the Crown could corrupt.

Unlike when I left this morning, each of the paintings was now encased in a protective plastic bag while in front of me the round, rosewood table that usually bore a vase full of exotic flowers was covered with a sheet. Directly above it the crystal chandelier my mother had commissioned shortly after I was born was sheathed in a plastic wrap of its own. And on the far side of the room the overstuffed chairs and love seats which formed an intimate little nook in front of the floor to ceiling windows along the back wall were only vague, sheet draped shapes.

Max had been busy. It was a bit sobering to see my home packed up like this, but it also meant that all my planning over the past months was finally about to bear fruit.

For a moment I thought I was alone until my eye fell on the flatpad on the edge of the table.

Morgana, I called, but there was no response.

My first thought was that she was upstairs packing. Then I remembered that it was Wednesday. Even with everything else that was going on today I knew she wouldn’t miss one of her special practice sessions if she could help it.

Underneath each of the sweeping staircases hallways led off to the left and right wings of the suite. To the left were my office, a comfortable den/media room, the dining room, and a private lift down to the garage. The hallway on the right led to the kitchen, the laundry and eventually the gym. My valet, Maximilian Keyhold, also had his rooms in this part of the house.

Most people were surprised at how small the apartment was. While the Royal Family did own a one hundred sixty-four room estate on a three thousand acre spread outside of the city, this is where I lived. I didn’t need a lot of room. In fact, I preferred the intimacy of the suite. Everything else in my life was on such a grand scale that these rooms served as a place where I could relax and just be myself.

Remembering my schedule, I glanced at the wall clock beside the door. The time before our departure was running short. I turned into the right hand hallway and headed toward the gym door at the far end.

Good afternoon, Sire, Max said as I passed the open kitchen doorway. Will you be wanting dinner now?

An enticing aroma swept over me, reminding me just how hungry I was. I had been so busy during the day that I hadn’t bothered to stop for lunch. I don’t know how he did it, but Max always seemed to know when I would be home and would have just the right thing prepared. I paused and turned into the