Kaldean Chronicles: Kaldean Sunset (Book I) (6 page)

“A public servant beholden to his people who deserve a ruler of sound mind.” He stood up just enough for Victor to shrink back. Two years ago, the Emperor was a formidable creature, capable of moving mountains; now he was just a man. It was hard for Antoni to see. When you're young, you idealize your parents and look up to them, and when you get older, when they shrivel and shrink, you start to miss the way they used to be. It's unsettling.

“I'll use the sanitizer this evening, and take your advice. Maybe you are right.”

“I am right. Your paranoia is getting the better of you.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do? I've got that bitch sorceress knocking down my door, begging to see me every day, and you telling me how pathetic I am, all the while I'm trying to destroy a credible threat to my people and my sovereignty.” He sighed and sat back with his hand shielding his forehead. “Supernova bombs inside every fucking system and I can't stop them.”

Victor was a broken man, driven by fear and the certainty that something terrible was going to happen. Many believed that they were entering a golden age, but he knew the truth.

“I don't know what to think about all of this.”

“They have an agenda, that much is certain. After what Illya did, I don't trust it. I mean do you?”

“Of course not, but it's been so long. Why hasn't anything happened yet. You'd think after all this time the machine's purpose would've revealed itself.”

“It hasn't been very long at all. We're talking about an organization that has existed for thousands of years with projects that have lasted most of that time. They work on a different timeline than you do. You're so young. When you get older, two years will fly past like nothing. The witches re waiting. They are planning something and I need to know what it is.”

“It's going to keep you occupied on other matters, things that need your immediate attention. Just yesterday the anti-technologists invaded another system.”

“They're not a threat. I've already begun infiltrating their ranks, and my men maintain key positions. We're already sabotaging the organization.”

“And what about the sentients in the outer reaches. There's word that the Terrus are planning an invasion.”

“They can't get past our Jihadis. Their forces are too small.” His voice rose. “What you don't seem to understand is that I've been doing this for almost five hundred years. Rebellions, sentient invasions—do you think any of this shit is new to me? I've maintained the integrity of this Empire during worse times than this. The real threat is the sisterhood. It always has been and always will be until we find a way to stop them.”

“Why did they do this?”

“They want power,” he said simply.

“But if they wanted power, why wouldn't they build an army and invade. They seem to be able to access our defenses.”

“They can, but that's what you're missing. That's not how they work.” He stared his son in the eye, “It doesn't matter how big your military is. If you have the hearts of the people, you can do anything. The people will always outnumber the armed forces. Every week, their services are attended by millions on every planet in the Empire. They hand on every word of their homilies, and thank the sisterhood for its blessings. We can't fight that. Those people would willingly give their lives for the Sisterhood, and they have, countless of times throughout history. We're talking about religion. It's the most powerful form of control that exists. The people are told from birth that Lorian Sisterhood is the source of all technology, all of the things that make their life great, and that they have the answers to all of their problems. You tell a child that enough,
and they begin to believe it, so much so, that they will never question it. They feel it,” he patted his stomach, “deep down in their gut. They believe it so strongly that they will hold onto those beliefs even in the face of incontrovertible evidence to the contrary. That sort of propaganda
effects the moral compass. It overrides logic and takes hold of your innermost beliefs about goodness and morality. It's insidious. You know the power that religion holds over others.”

“Yes, I do.”

“And you know what people have done with it. The sisterhood has twisted this amazing thing, and they use it to control the minds of the public. What happens if they tell the people we're bad? That they should take up arms. If the Blood Jihad has taught us anything, it's that the sisterhood is capable of uniting the masses and turning them against whomever they want. They know that. Illya admits it openly in closed quarters. We have to find a way to fight them.”

“So what do we do?”

“My main concern is the production of robotic machinery. The sisterhood wants us to turn over control to Artemis, saying that the system will be able to create far better models than human engineers, and though they may be right, I believe that they are trying to alter the models somehow so they can be used to serve the sisterhood.”

“Right. That's why you've made deal with Varossi Enterprises.”

“Yes. The sisterhood hates it and I'm receiving daily communication from Illya stating that she would like to meet me regarding the matter. She even sent a group of sisters to the palace without an escort to speak with me.”

“I hope they were killed.”

“Their remains were delivered personally to her.”

Antoni laughed, though it was mostly humorless.

“What I'm trying to do here is control the means of production so the sisterhood can't implant devices in the robots, but in Sisterhood to do that I have to make it look good to the public or it might cause a revolt. The sisters are already beginning to bring up the subject in their homilies, and it's starting to become a dangerous affair.”

“Can't you do it anyway?”

“Yes, but I'm afraid they'll have the people take up arms.”

Antoni was confused. There didn't seem to be a way to continue on as they have been. If the sisters wouldn't allow it, it was too dangerous. “Have you found a way?”

“We'll see. Come to the Varossi party with me this evening. We'll drop in unexpected and speak with the family.”

“Is it an appropriate occasion?”

“Oh, yes.”

Antoni was starting to understand his father's logic, and he was also building a sense for strategy. He couldn't find solutions the way his father did, but that would come with time. What he was able to do was speak on his father's level, and ask the right questions so he could continue learning from the man. He didn't have very much experience, nothing like the Emperor, but he was starting to learn valuable lessons.

The galaxy wasn't the perfect Utopia he expected it to be. It was a patchwork grid of systems held together by a fragile thread, and the ruler must take into account any number of factors if he wanted to hold the country together. First and foremost the people had to be happy. Once they were happy, they could be persuaded, and the ruler could have room to make changes if he wanted to. Invading forces and rebel groups had to be held at bay, and also given some lenience in Sisterhood to avoid fueling the fire. The ruling bodies within the galaxy were the biggest issue. The Jihadis, though they were a simple group, had to be given their incentives, booze women and riches. Otherwise, they wouldn't want to fight. The local governors had to be made to feel important, and they had to have enough to believe they were in charge of things. The sisters were a different matter altogether. When two ambitious groups with equal power clashed, a fire started, one that could easily destroy the Empire if both sides weren't careful.

It was all about balance. A single speck of dust, one wrong move or gaff could easily tip the scales and send the Empire plummeting into chaos. Antoni was beginning to understand just how difficult his job was going to be.

Antoni found himself standing, covered in sweat, wearing a black crushed velvet cape with a white tuxedo. This was the first time in more than a year that he'd had a chance to enjoy an event like this and he was anxious to get a good drink.

Stellarus was a beautiful planet, green and filled with a diverse ecosystem. The continents moved slowly there, so the plant and animal life evolved separately over a period of millions of years. This allowed them to develop a wide range of forms and abilities.

The planet also featured a rare phenomenon called crystal castles. The ship they were in folded space just outside orbit so that they could enter the atmosphere and get a view of the crystals. They were glowing structures as big as mountains that jutted out from the ground displaying a stunning spectrum of pastel blues, pinks and violets that moved up and down their surface in waves.

The local sentients, a species that had long since died off, dug into the sides of the crystals in order to build their houses, and when they flew down to the Varossi estate, the tiny grooves could be seen from the landing pad.

Antoni's father saw him looking. “Magnificent, isn't it?”

“Yes,” he sighed, hypnotized by the way the lines flashed when they reached the tip of the crystals. “How do you think it developed?”

“I don't know. Might have something to do with the planets stunted tectonic activity. What I do know is that when I was younger I used to take your mother out here and we'd have lunch in the old houses up there.”

“Really? What are they like?” he questioned.

“Simple holes, but when you walk in the light reflects off your skin and your body looks like it's glowing.”

“Wow.”

They walked up the cobblestone path, lined by a grove of trees, and up to the front steps where two men dressed in white robes were waiting to announce their arrival. They opened the doors and watched as the crowd parted so they could walk up to the center of the room where Arturo Varossi was waiting with his wife, Jaquelyn.

“Your Highness,” he said as he ran up to shake the Emperor's hand. “Welcome to my home. I didn't know you'd be coming.”

“It was a spur of the moment decision. This is my son Antoni.” The man bowed and the prince gave him a jovial smile. He wasn't sure what to make of the Varossis. The man was always a little too nice, but was said to be a shrewd businessman. The house was beautiful, small by imperial standards, but it offered the finest amenities, and suited the tastes of the upper class.

“I'd like to have a meeting with you upstairs if possible.”

“Business or pleasure?” the man asked.

“It's a bit of both, actually. Antoni,” Victor turned towards his son who was looking around the room trying to find a nice cocktail. “I'll call for you when I need you. Stay close to Magnus.”

“Yes, father.”

The two disappeared upstairs and the wife left after offering a respectful bow. Antoni followed Magnus who seemed to have an intuitive sense as to where the alcohol would be located.

There was a small bar at the back of the room where a crowd of men were gathered. They were laughing at something, but they stopped and stepped aside when they saw Antoni. He was used to the effect he had on people, but he didn't like it. Just once he'd like to sit down with somebody and have an open, honest conversation, but it was completely impossible because they would always treat him differently. Those who were dissatisfied with the state of the Empire would scold him. Ambitious men and women would try to gain his favor. Rafael mocked him. Nobody took him for who he was, because all they saw was his title. It wasn't fair. He wanted to be like everyone else.

Instead, he walked up to the bar, over to where the bartender was waiting for him. “Your highness!”
He was beaming at the chance to serve the prince. It was sickening. “What can I get you?”

“I'd like a glass of red wine, please.”

“Oh, sure. Anything in particular?”

“I just want to get drunk.”

A young woman leaning against the bar laughed and looked over at him, “Probably not the best place to do that.”

“Oh. Why not?”

“You don't want to embarrass yourself in front of all of these important people, do you?”

“In that case,” he turned to the bartender, “hand me that bottle of whiskey.” He pointed at a gallon of whiskey sitting on the top shelf. “Give me two shot glasses and a bottle of bourbon for my guard.”

“Sure.” The man did as he was told.

“Do I have to put sleeping powder in this thing, Magnus, or will you fuck off like you're supposed to?”

Magnus grabbed the bottle as soon as the bartender set it down on the bar then walked over to a table in the back corner.

“Have a shot,” the prince turned to the young woman who was watching the entire affair with a huge grin on her face.

“Sure,” he poured the shots and handed her a glass, “to getting shitfaced.”

“To getting shitfaced.” They clinked their glasses together, and he poured the burning liquid down his throat, trying to hide the sudden distaste that was threatening to erupt from the pit of his stomach. He couldn't do it. Instead he closed his eyes and petted his chest.

When he opened his eyes, the young woman was staring at him. She looked like she was trying to hold her breath, but when she simply couldn't hold it any longer, she burst out laughing.

“What?”

“You don't—you—you don't know how to take a shot.”

“So? Isn't that normal?”

“Fuck, no.” She took the bottle tipped it up to her mouth, gulping huge mouthfuls of whiskey then let it drop. It didn't seem to faze her at all. It looked like she was drinking water.
“How did you do that?”

“I've just been drinking longer than you have.”

“I guess you have,” he laughed and poured himself another shot. This time, he let it go down and tried harder to ignore the burn, but he still squinted his eyes a little bit.

They both started laughing and before long, were sitting down with shots in one hand and fine smoke weed in the other.

“I would've thought you'd be a bit more experienced.” She seemed intrigued.

“I don't do it much. It's never been my thing.”

She shrugged, “Makes sense.”

“You know,” he was getting a little cocky. Maybe it was the drink, maybe it was the confidence that had been building inside of him for months. “You're pretty courageous, sitting there, laughing at a prince. Don't you think that's a little dangerous?”