“You may well be right,” I agree, struggling to keep track of both the swordfight and the conversation.
“It would be a disaster for the Empire,” the general frets. “Already we’re weak, because the Emperor is weak. But the Empress has a gift for the Syntrix, they say. Its darker side, apparently. I know she is your mother, Mars, and I will shut up if you want that. With the Tentacle Throne to help her, only the gods know what will happen. Most likely our enemies will overwhelm us, and the galaxy will descend into chaos, tyranny, starvation, and death. The Vyrpy will kill half our people. And those will be the lucky ones. A Phrexz ship was seen in the Cur system, it is said.”
His words make me lose momentum. “A Phrexz? Recently?”
“Just a few days ago. I imagine you were not informed because there was only a blip, not anything solid. But I’ve never known General Klariux to exaggerate his reports.”
“Neither have I,” I ponder. “That’s all we need now. A Phrexz plot.”
“Maybe it was just a scout, Mars. But we should be on our guard. For now, we must avoid any unworthy person sitting on the Tentacle Throne.” In his worry about the future, Prab makes a mistake and sets up his hack just a little bit too obviously. It gives me a tiny opening, which is all I need.
I slash my sword at him, and the blade cuts into his shoulder and goes all across him before it reappears on the other side. Bellatriz has of course made herself phase-shift, so that her clearcrystal blade simply doesn’t exist inside Prab’s body and only comes back into existence on the other side of him. He stiffens.
“We must avoid it,” I agree. “But we’re almost there. After I marry, nobody can have any objection against me being next in line for the throne.”
“True.” He holds his sword up in defeat, blade down. “You win, Mars. I must say it’s disconcerting to fight someone armed with Bellatriz. It does feel as if it goes right through for real. Thank you for not killing me.”
“You’re welcome,”Bellatriz says cheerfully. “And thank you for giving our prince the realistic practice. You’re both getting better.”
I replace her in her scabbard. “Sorry, Prab. But you left yourself wide open.”
He grunts in annoyance. “Sometimes I think we should all have legendary swords that were left by some mysterious alien species and have the ability to flick out of and into existence like that.”
“When we find another one, I’m sure we will give it to you,” I state and wipe sweat from my brow. “This exercises both the mind and the body. Thank you for this, Prab. There aren’t many I can trust to fight me and not hold back.”
My friend sits down and wipes his sweat. “It may have been the last time. After you’re emperor, your visits will be even rarer than now.”
“I will bring you to Khav,” I tell him, taking a sip of a drink. “I will need you there.”
He laughs and lifts his own glass. “Oh no, you don’t. Having one slike like Preniat slithering around the base is bad enough.There’s no way I’ll go and live in the very place that they come from. Get ready now. You’re not getting married today. Don’t miss it.”
17
- Umbra-
A minute later there are four more female Khavgrens in the tent. They all tower over me, although not as much as Mareliux. They’re all in uniforms, but they’ve taken off their suits of armor and they've brought drinks.
Sigise introduces them all. Two are officers and two are non-coms.
“We don’t use rank in private gatherings like these,” a captain called Garu says. “The prince understands that there aren’t that many women in the army, and the few of us there are must be able to get together informally sometimes.”
“Why aren’t there more of you?” I ask, still overwhelmed by being in the same room with so many of these tentacled aliens. The women have much smaller tentacles than the males, but they still have something monstrous about them. At the same time, they’re girls, excited about the wedding and about meeting me.
“Not a lot of girls want to be fighters,” Garu says. “And itisdangerous, so I can’t blame them. For some of us, a soldier is the only thing we ever wanted to be. It’s a good life.”
"Umbra,” the one called Frotarid says seriously, pouring a drink, “I think you should know that we all hate you. I mean, the prince? You’re marryingour prince?There won’t be any left for us! Sure, there are other princes, but they’re not Mareliux! Not even close!” She hands me the glass.
“Maybe you should have watched him better,” I tell her with a sniff. “You let him out of your sight, and I grabbed him. Don’t blameme.”
They all laugh, relieved that I get the joke and that I’m playing along. They never needed to worry — Space Force jokes can be rough, too.
“I know you’re not actually marrying him,” the one called Dispi whispers conspiratorially. “But you’re still much closer than any of us have ever been to it. Oh, you look incredible! Is that a wedding outfit from your planet, Umbra?”
We chat about various wedding traditions and our planets. It seems that only very few of the soldiers on the base know that the wedding will be a fake one, and these girls are practically all of them. I let them all touch my hair, which is a feature they’ve only rarely seen, and never from this close. They marvel at the softness and the texture.
The conversation soon returns to the prince, and I get the impression that everything he told me about the empire is true. He may even have understated his own power. And he certainly never told me he was this popular among his soldiers.
Other soldiers bring more food and drink. I make sure to not touch anything that smells even remotely of alcohol — I need to keep my mind on the mission. That’s what this is. It’s not a fun joyride through the stars. This is about securing Earth’s safety.
