Journey With The Annoying

Journey With The Annoying

By Arran Gimba

Edited by Stuart Sharp and Samantha Ondyak

Copyright 2015

Chapter One

Elaine?

Elaine Durowich, personal assistant to her Royal Highness Anastasia, Princess of the Greater Galactic Empire, tried not to sigh too loudly as her 18-year-old employer yelled for her. Being at the beck and call of royalty was kind of in the job description, after all.

On the whole, it was a good job, at least if Elaine was careful to ignore the official job title of handmaiden. She got a better wage than half the members of the Imperial Advisory Council, her own room in the palace, and access to some of the most powerful people in the Empire. What more could a girl ask for?

Elaine!

The occasional day off, possibly. Particularly when her Highness was in one of those moods where she needed something done every five minutes. It wasn’t that Anastasia was a bad kid, far from it. It was just that, for someone who was supposedly only a couple of years younger than Elaine, she could sometimes come across as having the self sufficiency of the average six year old.

Not that Elaine would actually know what to do with a day off, of course. Around the palace, she was famous for never taking a day off. Everyone else took his or her time every circuit of Homeworld II around its sun. Elaine, on the other hand, had long ago come to the conclusion that, if she did that, it would only mean more work when she got back, trying to reverse the chaos that had cropped up in her absence. Far better to be there in the first place.

"Elaine!"

Elaine hurried into the royal bedroom, and from there into the royal en-suite, where the shrieking seemed to be coming from. Elaine paused at the door, knowing that it was never a good idea to look too flustered, and stepped in.

Anastasia was there, wrapped in a towel and standing on the lavatory. The really annoying thing was that, even like that, even obviously terrified, she still looked better than Elaine did on her best day. She was blonde, athletic, and annoyingly, spectacularly gorgeous, with cheekbones that could have quite happily served as razor blades allied to a body that had had Elaine destroying paparazzi nano-drones on an almost daily basis.

Not that Elaine was bad looking herself. With her bob-cut dark hair and official suit, she thought she scrubbed up very nicely. It was just that it was obvious where any attention would be when the two of them were in the same room. Well, except for now, of course. Now, all the attention seemed to be on the candy-pink expanse of the royal bathtub.

What is it, Ana? Elaine demanded. More cameras? Some sort of booby-trap from the separatists? A bomb?

Elaine wasn’t entirely joking. The Empire wasn’t exactly the most peaceful of places to live these days. If it wasn’t rumblings of discontent from people who suspected that a nearly absolute monarchy wasn’t really the best way to run a couple of hundred planets, then it was the Emperor and the Empress trying to poison, blow up, or otherwise kill one another. It had not been a very good divorce, on the whole.

That was one reason Elaine was willing to cut Anastasia some slack. Well, that and the fact that she was her fabulously wealthy boss who could also probably have her executed if she wanted. The Princess had been shunted back and forth between her parents, which even at faster than light speeds had to hurt. When her mother had thrown the Emperor off the original Homeworld and changed the locks, Anastasia had gone with him to Homeworld II, but now she seemed to spend so much time travelling between them that Elaine occasionally wondered if it might not be simplest to clone her and have done with it.

Still, that wasn’t dealing with the immediate problem, was it?

"What is it, Ana?" Elaine repeated.

A…a spider! Eek!

Elaine sighed and leaned over the bath. There was indeed a spider in it. It was approximately a yard across, with complex blue and yellow patterns on its back.

Can’t you trap it under a glass or something? the Princess shrieked.

Ana, this is the official Ambassador for the Web planet, Elaine explained. That would be an act of war.

"But it’s…it’s horrid."

And that’s species-ist, Elaine retorted. Look, just wait outside for a moment. I’ll sort this out. As the Princess hurried back into the bedroom, Elaine returned her attention to the creature in the bath. I’m sorry, sir. I think you are in the wrong room.

The small translator on the underside of the spider’s mandibles flickered into life. But this is such a lovely plug-hole. Are you sure I cannot stay?

I think your quarters are just down the hall, Elaine said. And the Princess was hoping to take a bath. I’m sure you see the problem.

Ah yes, the spider said. The hot faucet. People are always turning the hot faucet on around my kind. We hope that, eventually, all worlds will see the foolishness of it.

But until then, Elaine said, there’s also the matter of how it might look.

In fact, she could just imagine how some of the gossip magazines’ headlines would read: Princess in Arachnid Suds Scandal perhaps. They did love running that sort of thing when it came to Anastasia. And, for someone who was supposed to be a tyrannical ruler of the known galaxy, her father was surprisingly slow to clamp down on that sort of thing. Possibly he just suspected that, with Anastasia, it would require too much work.

You are correct, of course, the spider said, scuttling from the bath and along one wall. If my web-mate heard about this…

Not exactly what Elaine had been thinking of, but it would do. As I said, your quarters are just down the hall.

Most kind. The spider scurried out through the bedroom, and Elaine heard another small shriek from the Princess. Still, Elaine thought as she quickly scrubbed down the bath, knowing that Anastasia wouldn’t get in until she had, it could have been worse.

There, Elaine said, going out into the bedroom. It’s fine now. You can take your bath.

Of course, by that point, Anastasia had already decided to move on to something else, having changed into a casual outfit so that she could lounge about the room reading the latest news on her favorite holo-vid star, Brad Vector. Anastasia had had a major crush on him for a couple of months now, with posters of him making periodic appearances on the walls of the royal bedroom. If Elaine remembered rightly, he had sprung to fame largely for being the only person on his planet not to have been featured in a reality TV show. Frankly, Elaine couldn’t see what Anastasia saw in him. Well, beyond all the muscles, obviously.

Do you think Daddy would mind, Anastasia wondered aloud as she went gooey eyed over the latest pictures, if I commanded Brad to come to the palace?

Elaine rolled her eyes. I think he’d hit the roof.

"But I’m a princess. Aren’t I supposed to be looking for suitable young men?"

Possibly not in the gossip pages. Elaine looked over to the corner of the room, where a stack of brochures sat untouched and gathering dust. If you want something to read, maybe you could have a look through those university brochures.

Oh, not you as well, Anastasia whined. Daddy has been bothering me to pick a college, too. Even Mummy broke off from plotting assassinations long enough to ask me about it the last time I was there.

Well, it is very important, Your Highness, Elaine suggested as gently as she could. She had found in the course of her employment that the way to get through to Anastasia was to let her come round to things in her own time, without leaving them alone long enough for her to forget about them. Which meant, with some things, no more than about a minute. After all, you do want to go somewhere that you’ll like, don’t you?

Anastasia shrugged. She had a very expressive shrug sometimes. This one was, if Elaine was any judge, her I agree, but I’m not going to actually say that because it will look like you’ve won shrug.

And you have to get your applications in soon, or you won’t be able to start on time, Elaine continued. They might not even let you in.

Of course they’ll let me in, Anastasia said. Everyone wants to say that they’ve taught a princess. Besides, Daddy will talk to them if they don’t.

Of course, talking had a slightly different meaning when it was done from the bridge of a battle cruiser.

And if there’s nowhere I like, Anastasia went on, Daddy will just build me a new school anyway. She sighed. "I’m not even sure why everybody wants me to go to university anyway. I mean, I know what I’m going to be doing with the rest of my life, and I already have the only real qualification. I think I make a pretty good princess as it is, don’t you, Elaine?"

The first rule of working with royalty: know exactly when to agree utterly. Absolutely. Elaine wasn’t exactly lying either. When it came to things like being in the public eye, waving, hosting extravagant parties, and general figurehead-ing, no one could touch Anastasia. "Though it might be said that learning a bit about galactic economics and politics would be helpful."

But I know all about economics, Anastasia pointed out. Daddy makes me pay off my credit card with my trust fund allowance every month. And I know all sorts of politicians.

Yes, Ana, but it might still be fun to leaf through a few of the brochures anyway. You know, just in case they have something that you really want to do.

To Elaine’s mild surprise, the Princess actually did it, getting up and wandering over to the stack. She picked up the first of the brochures.

University of Upper Urrt? Where’s that?

I think it’s on the planet Urrt, Ana. But I don’t think you’d want to go there, Elaine added. The atmosphere is pure ammonia.

Anastasia nodded. You’re right. It would be terrible for my hair.

Elaine shrugged. Also, you wouldn’t be able to breathe.

Oh, right. That too.

What about the University of Center Spiral? Elaine suggested. It has some really good programs.

Maybe, Anastasia said. What are the planet’s beaches like? And are there any decent malls?

Elaine shook her head. "It’s all one giant space station floating around a black hole. I don’t think there are any beaches."

Well that’s out, then.

They looked through a few more, and Elaine did her best to steer her royal boss towards some of the more academic options. After all, it wasn’t like the younger woman was actually stupid. She could even be quite bright when the situation demanded. It was just that the situation in question generally involved planning an explanation of what she had been doing the previous night, not sitting in the middle of a lecture.

Gradually, Elaine sensed Anastasia’s attention waning. Frankly, she had been surprised it had lasted as long as it had. Normally, she had all the concentration of a concussed butterfly. The twenty minutes spent on brochures probably counted as a serious commitment of time by those standards.

You know what I really want to do? Anastasia declared as she put down the latest one.

Go out partying? Elaine guessed.

No. Well, yes, actually. Schedule some of that in for later. But I mean in general.

What’s that, Ana?

I want to go travelling.

That one caught Elaine a little by surprise. Travelling? Really? Well, I suppose we could always organize some sort of official series of state visits or something, but—

That’s not what I mean, Anastasia said. "I want to go travelling the way real people do before they go to university. They go out with backpacks and things, and they see the worlds. Or at least, as many of them as they can get round to. I want to do that."

You do?

The Princess nodded. Duke Harlgan’s son, Henry, did it before he went back to study micro-cellular…stuff. It sounds like fun. The travelling, not the cells and things.

Elaine wracked her brain for the relevant individual. One of her more important job skills was remembering the entire who’s who of several star systems. Though annoyingly, it was one thing that Anastasia always seemed to do better than she did. At least with the people who were nice to her.

Is this the same Henry who accidentally wandered into a Gnarg pit and had to be rushed home to have his legs re-grown?

That’s him! Doesn’t it sound exciting?

Exciting wasn’t the word Elaine would have chosen. More to the point, she couldn’t see their Imperial Majesties going along with the idea. Anastasia shuttling back and forth between home worlds was hard enough to contain. Anastasia out in the universe alone sounded like a disaster waiting to happen. Still, the Princess looked like she was serious.

You’d have to ask your parents, Elaine said. And I wouldn’t get my hopes up if I were you, Ana.

He’ll let me go. I know he will. Come on.

Where are we going?

To the throne room to see Daddy, of course.

But isn’t he in with one of the visiting delegations?

Ana shrugged. I’m sure he won’t mind just a tiny interruption.

Elaine, who was fairly sure that galactic emperors generally did mind that sort of thing, spent most of the ensuing trip along the travel tubes trying to dissuade Anastasia. Unfortunately, it’s hard to make a coherent point when you are flying along at speeds somewhere between really quite fast and Oh God we’re going to die!

Pretty soon, they arrived at the great throne room of Homeworld II. It had, they said, been built specifically to be just a little bit bigger than the one on Homeworld I. Since that one was already large enough for a full collection of supplicants, ministers, planetary representatives, and those people who hold the trumpets with the flags on them, the resulting room was huge. It was magnificent. It was gigantic. It was, in fact, so big that when the heralds announced something down at one end of the room, it took a moment or two for the sound to reach the other.

Of course, it was also currently unused, having been more than a little scorched by one of the estranged Empress’s more recent attempts at marital dispute resolution. Instead, Ana led the way over to a rather smaller side room, outside of which a lone guard stood.

I’m sorry, Your Highness, the Emperor said he wasn’t to be disturbed by anyone. He’s in with the High Council.

Well, I’m not anyone, am I? Anastasia pointed out with the sort of logic that only really applies to royalty. I’m me.

She pushed past, leaving the guard looking remarkably helpless for someone wearing fully-powered battle-armor and carrying a disruptor rifle. Elaine gave him an apologetic look and followed the Princess.

Inside, there was a round table of polished plastic. Various grey-suited figures sat round it discussing what were probably issues of vital concern to the Empire, though one of them seemed to be busy having a coughing fit. Elaine winced as Anastasia stepped straight past them all and headed for the figure at the far end of the room.

Maximilian the Twenty-Seventh didn’t look much like a ruler of the known galaxy, a despoiler of worlds, or even the supreme commander of the largest space fleet for a hundred systems around. Well, joint supreme commander, anyway, since the Empress had gotten half of it in the divorce. Instead, with his tufts of white hair, his truly awful taste in sweaters, and his slightly distracted expression, he always looked to Elaine more like the sort of man who ought to spend his time tinkering with things in sheds, trying to get them to work. And, very broadly speaking, he did. It was just that the things in question were generally planet sized starships.

Anastasia, darling, you know you can’t just wander in when I’m in a meeting, dear.

Oh, who cares about some silly meeting? Anastasia demanded.

A grey-skinned slaarg, its facial plaaga fronds groomed into something approximating a moustache, put a laser pen down irritably. Elaine recognized General George X’aath. He was kind of hard to miss.

"Once you’ve shot it a few times, does it matter if it was an enemy fleet to start with?"

Since this meeting is to determine the security of the entire sector, young lady, I think you’ll find that it matters to everybody.

Anastasia looked round at him. Well, this will only take a minute. Daddy, I want to go travelling.

Travelling?

You know. Wandering around with nothing but a backpack, seeing the universe before I go to college. Everyone does it.

Maximilian the Twenty-Seventh steepled his fingers. I know what travelling is, darling. Though when I did it, it always seemed to be on the bridge of a heavy cruiser.

So I can go? Anastasia asked.

Well darling…there’s the situation with your mother, and the increased tensions around the galactic rim, and then there have been reports of would-be dissidents on several of the worlds, and—

But I don’t care about any of that!

The Emperor shrugged. Well, I do, dear. I’m sorry, but I think I am going to have to put my foot down on this one.

But Daddy—

My answer is no, Anastasia. I’m sorry, but no.

I…I hate you.

I’m a galactic tyrant, darling. Everybody hates me. It’s rather the point.

Chapter Two

Since His Majesty has brought it up, this is probably a good point for a brief galactic history lesson. Centuries ago, or at least twenty-six Maximilians ago, the galaxy was run in the usual sort of fashion. Which is to say, generally quite badly. At least, so people tended to think. It was uncanny. No matter how many elections they held, and no matter how many promising candidates the peoples of the various worlds selected, they always seemed to find themselves complaining about the incumbents in the end.

One of the great turning points of history came when a young political science student named Maximilian Zane put forward the idea that perhaps this happened because people liked having something to complain about, and, if they were provided with a single central figure who would automatically be unpopular because of his or her position, then maybe everyone else could get on with making the worlds better places to be. It probably says a lot about the way politics on some of the worlds was going that, within ten years, almost every planet in the galaxy had agreed to the idea. And it probably says quite a lot about young Max Zane that he just happened to be standing in the room when the words now, who shall we pick? came up.

Over the ensuing centuries, the Galactic Emperors became a kind of repository for every bad feeling people had. Things weren’t going well on the farm? Blame the fundamentally unfair political system. Economy crashing? Complain at the highest level. Keep losing all your left socks? Time to write a stiffly worded letter to your absolute ruler.

We mention this here simply to make it clear that, for an emperor, being complained at, nagged, and occasionally threatened was entirely par for the course. As such, when Anastasia, on leaving the audience chamber, declared that she would do whatever it took to change her father’s mind, Elaine knew that the odds on it making any difference were only marginally longer than those of Anastasia’s attention lasting for more than a week.

Except, it seemed that Elaine had underestimated Anastasia’s determination more than a little. Normally, her attention would have been as brief as a hummingbird’s. On this point, however, it was like someone had swapped her for a different princess entirely. So much so that Elaine did some discrete DNA tests while no one was looking, just to make sure that one of the Empress’s more elaborate plots wasn’t in play. Not since the original Maximilian had looked around at all those planets so many centuries ago and said to himself, Right, I’m having that, had any member of the royal family been quite so set on something.

Not that it particularly helped. After all, so many of the classic tactics employed by teenagers across space simply don’t work when faced with a galactic tyrant. Even one who frequently forgot why he’d gone into rooms and then had to ask his advisors.

Anastasia’s attempt at the silent treatment, for example, didn’t get very far. Mostly, that was because, in a city sized palace, it was hard for Anastasia to make it clear to her father that she wasn’t talking to him because she was upset and not just because she couldn’t find him.