Posted by: Zume
« on: July 10, 2009, 10:26:43 PM »The Pulurtans - Chapter 4.75
The rays of the setting sun were now hitting King Lugan as he sat behind the desk in his private study at the summer palace on Fendala. He pressed a control to seal that particular shade and the one for his guest. Chamberlain Mystral had a clipboard that held the quarterly Bian report in her hand, turning over sheet after sheet of royal parchment. “Luxury goods output has increased to meet the surge in demand in all sectors, especially the homeworld sector,” she stated formally.
“No doubt the demand is from recently retired military veterans,” Lugan mused. After the Bian War a fair share of High Army and Navy personnel that served during the conflict elected to stay on for a full twenty-five years, thus earning a substantial bonus to their retirement pension. “What of the shipyard complex output?”
Mystral flipped over three pages. “After the recent upgrade the station over Bios Prime now has 40 standard and 20 medium construction slips. Construction scheduling is set so that three Domination and three Vengeance class ships will be completed each month, entailing the usage of 39 of the standard slips. The smaller slips will construct advance battleships and prefabricated components of type-6 bases. On a related note the last five percent of the reserve fleet is undergoing refit which will include the augmented cybernetic control net.”
Lugan nodded. The ACCN was the one piece of Bian technology the High Navy decided to incorporate into its ships. A ship so equipped would be able to operate weapons and defenses at full efficiency with only one-third of the required crew. However, certain functions such as servicing strikefighters and operating mobile shipyards would still suffer penalties for being undermanned. The ACCN could’ve been developed to the point that a reduced crew wouldn’t suffer penalties but the HN settled on implementing common sense and philosophical constraints. Wary of ships that might go rogue, the HN made operator input required at several points in the ACCN decision making process.
Mystral lifted another page. “While on the subject of cybernetic controls, Sire, there has been an appreciable reduction in Bian homicides since last year. Projections are still holding for an 82% ‘completion rate’ in five years time.
The king laughed. “Looks like they’re learning family values.” The Bian homicides were a consequence of the Royal Convention on Bian Employment for the High Kingdom, the body of laws that governed the conquered population of Bios. For the most part a police force and civil service composed of those Bians willing to align themselves with their conquerors for prestige and perks enforced the laws and dictates of the crown governor.
One major law was that Bians could no longer be reconstituted from back-up copies if their current memory core was non-functional. With memory restoration vaults banned (and their contents made worthless thanks to intense radiation) enforcement was carried out by a secret, ruthless branch of the police that answered solely to the crown governor. While an individual Bian could still live for hundreds if not thousands of years once the memory core was compromised they were considered dead.
Procreation for Bians was limited to one offspring per couple every 25 years. Instead of an amalgam of personality traits these new offspring were given totally random traits. Parents couldn’t get a ‘do-over’ if the traits weren’t to their liking. Over time this lead to cases of murder when the parents or the child weren’t able to get along with the other. Murders also resulted thanks to the revised inheritance laws, leading to particularly intricate plans on some Bian children’s part to off their parents. The Pulurtans found this to be source of macabre humor, especially when the Bians themselves turned such tragedies into teledramas.
“Our colony on Bios Prime has now reached 15000,” Mystral continued. “Crown Governor Prince Beysek will congratulate the fortunate family during the anniversary celebration next week.
Lugan sighed. “Hard to believe it’s been twenty years since the end of the war. I trust you have a copy of the speech I’ll give next week at the capital?”
Mystral pulled a slim stack of hardcopy from the briefcase by her side. “It’s ready for your inspection, Sire. The speechwriter added the generational perspective you requested.”
“Good.” Lugan took the offered paper and thumbed through it. “Shorter than the one I gave at the 10-year anniversary. Just as well since the generation born after the war has a short attention span.”
Antennae twitching apprehensively, Mystral turned serious. “There is one other matter I’d like to remind you of now before finishing the rest of the Bian report. Tomorrow marks the 68th anniversary of the disappearance of the Gyst loyalist in the Sauna system.”
“Mystral, you know better than to use that word,” Lugan said in spry manner. “They’re not loyalists; they’re outlaws that refused to acknowledge my royal supremacy.” It was no great secret that this particular note in history was a sore point for Lugan, one that he vented his spleen on the fifth anniversary so memorably that further observances just replayed what he said. Officially the Civil War ended when he was crowned king. Subjugating the last Gyst loyalists on Acre, the only inhabited planet left in the High Kingdom aside from the homeworld, was labeled as suppressing a rebellion. As such this was considered the ‘first decisive action’ of the then-young king’s rule.
Having inherited the position of chamberlain from her father Mystral was privy to all secrets of those in and near the court. In private the father always referred to the followers of the Gyst family as loyalists since many of his friends and relatives were on that side of the conflict. Decades of very limited surveying had turned up no sign of the Gyst. Indeed, it was felt that the best chance to find them would’ve been during the Bios War. Again nothing was turned up, and aside from the yearly survey mounted from the very few open warp points left in the High Kingdom all eyes were fixed on the Table Rock/Sauna warp point. Once a year to the day when Sauna’s white dwarf went supernova a survey ship attempted to transit through Table Rock side of the warp point. Each time it was deflected like a rubber ball off an equally-rubbery wall. For the past eighteen years, to spare crews the wrenching sensation they felt during the attempt, advanced reconnaissance drones were deployed.
Still, to be speaking spryly proved to Mystral that Lugan has mellowed since she became his chamberlain. “I seriously doubt that this year will be any different,” he said. “You’ll just be delivering the same report tomorrow morning like you’ve done for the last thirty years. Now, let’s finish this Bian report. I want to spend the rest of the evening going over the speech.”
“Very well, Sire.”
********
Lugan slept alone this particular night for Queen Aythes was at the Crowne Complex personally overseeing the preparations for the Bios War 20th anniversary victory gala. Suffering from a particularly resilient form of lung cancer Aythes refused to let her remaining time be dominated by bed rest and will-sapping medication. The climate that the summer palace enjoyed the majority of the year was the only tonic that alleviated the worst of Aythes’ symptoms. While he had mellowed over the years the passion Lugan felt about the Gyst still burned bright in the background, but now it was eclipsed by his concern about Aythes. After the gala he planned to hold court at the summer palace as much as possible so that his queen would have some relief.
That night he expected a dream about the victory dinner twenty years ago. Instead he was visited by a memory he had all-but suppressed. A dark memory fit to fuel a nightmare. Five months into the Civil War and at almost the start of the Isset Rebellion Lugan had finally tracked down Kysjyt, the one-year-old heir to the throne of King Hysax. Accompanied by his bodyguard and a squad of Isset vassals Lugan was about to seize the hidden shuttle that would’ve taken the child and his protectors to safety when… he showed up.
Archduke Wonset, brother of Hysax and regent for Kysjyt, attacked with the assistance of a handful of knights. Surprise was total. The Isset were slaughtered where they stood, the only thing their gory deaths provided was time for Lugan’s bodyguards to take cover. In a bitterly contested action the knights covered Kysjyt and his retinue’s entry into the shuttle at great expense. Lugan’s men, suffering their own losses, had gotten within fifty meters of the shuttle and were ready to fire portable one-shot rocket launchers. None got off a shot for Wonset smothered them in a hail of grenades. In a brutal slow-motion only possible in nightmares Lugan recalled every one of those small explosions and how each took the life of a trusted comrade.
Not ready to admit defeat Lugan sprinted forward as he knew the grenade launcher had fired its full load. Just one rocket hit in an engine pod would be enough to ground the shuttle. It would’ve been prudent had he kept his eye on Wonset instead of a rocket launcher. A rapid set of leaps on the Archduke’s part placed him right on top of Lugan. Only meticulously-honed reflexes allowed Lugan to draw his sword in time to parry Wonset’s blade. Even so the youthful Pulurtan was off-balanced and fell back, desperate to attain a solid footing. Every bladestroke sounded like thunder, flashing metal as bright as lightning.
Clearly in his element Wonset pressed the advantage. A powerful stroke battered the sword from Lugan’s hand, and immediately he put the edge of it against Lugan’s chestplate. So connected he pushed his younger opponent up against a tree. Being a straight sword it had no sharp tip but a flat, thick edge like a ruler. Nevertheless, Wonset pressed it against the armor with such force that it was actually dented. Had he possessed manic energy the blade would’ve gone through and impaled the young foe.
Just then Wonset jumped back and turned in one fluid motion, blade coming down on the last of Lugan’s bodyguards. The head was severed, falling to the ground like a frozen apple. Expecting to be finished off Lugan saw Wonset fall back to the shuttle. The engines were roaring with life, but despite that he heard the Archduke with the clarity only fear could provide. “That dent will have to do for now, but I’ll know where to pick up next time.” His burst of laughter might as well have been from a demon as far as Lugan was concerned. “You will oblige me, Duke Pulurtan Lugan, by standing still so that when the blade runs through you it won’t hurt as much.”
Lugan woke up in a start, finding himself on the floor as the pillows were scattered about the room. Only the now rare Isset nightmares produced such a scene, his subconscious mind acting out violence in the physical world. After rounding up the tossed bedding he took to the small liquor cabinet and poured a shot of whiskey. For the next hour he brooded, trying to divine the significance of the nightmare as this was the first one that concerned Wonset. Of all the Gyst family Wonset was the one Lugan held with most hostility. Had the memory of the extinct Isset faded just enough to allow the memory of Wonset to come to the top? Or, like 26 years ago with the Bians, was it message from the ether that foretold peril for the High Kingdom?
One of only a handful of people entered the royal bedchamber at this hour without preamble. It was Chamberlain Mystral, and her antennae were twitching. “Your Highness, this news cannot wait until morning. The Table Rock/Sauna warp point is now open. Six recon drones have confirmed the stability of the warp point. As per standing orders regarding reestablished access to Sauna a squadron of Claims entered the system to conduct a survey under cloak.”
All the woolgathering was banished in an instant. “The Table Rock fleet base and its attending defense task force are at alert?” Lugan inquired, even though he knew it to be the case.
“Yes, Sire. Bases stationed at Table Rock 3 have been towed to the warp point and buoys and mines deployed from Table Rock 5-A’s depots.”
Lugan stood up and walked towards the windows. The very slight glow along the horizon told him dawn was about to break. In contrast his thoughts were dark and getter darker. “Have Dukes Belyn and Mastys sent to Table Rock immediately. They’re the closest. In the eventually we do find the Gyst on the far side of Sauna’s other warp points those two will act with full authority as crown ambassadors.”
Mystral was incredulous. “Ambassadors? Your Highness, it may be a bit early to assume the Gyst are still alive. The odds were heavily against them when they fled. Coupled with difficulty in establishing a colony with only the resources they brought along there are other imponderables such as disease, famine and fractiousness. We’ll be lucky the find the ships they mothballed on some moon let alone a failed settlement.”
There was fire in the eye when Lugan turned around. “If Wonset can escape from a seemingly impossible situation then there’s nothing beyond their reach. No, I say the odds of him being alive are remote, that insufferable bastard, but the Gyst are alive in some remote system, perhaps have even made a small empire. Our ambassadors will determine how tractable they are in coming back in the High Kingdom.”
“They would be wise to join the High Kingdom in the spirit of reconciliation,” Mystral said despite that she didn’t believe one word of it. As long as the Gyst still had the Diamond Scepter they could say they’re the legitimate rulers of the realm. Lugan would settle for nothing less than getting the scepter in his possession, even if he had to pry it out of the dead hands of whatever Gyst royal was in charge.
With antennae slanting down Lugan showed his intensity. “Mystral, I want my speechwriter here no later than breakfast. By dinner tonight the people of Fendala will the first ones in the kingdom to hear that 68-year-old wounds and accountings will finally be settled. The High Kingdom will now truly be made whole in my lifetime.”
End chapter 4
-- Zume
The rays of the setting sun were now hitting King Lugan as he sat behind the desk in his private study at the summer palace on Fendala. He pressed a control to seal that particular shade and the one for his guest. Chamberlain Mystral had a clipboard that held the quarterly Bian report in her hand, turning over sheet after sheet of royal parchment. “Luxury goods output has increased to meet the surge in demand in all sectors, especially the homeworld sector,” she stated formally.
“No doubt the demand is from recently retired military veterans,” Lugan mused. After the Bian War a fair share of High Army and Navy personnel that served during the conflict elected to stay on for a full twenty-five years, thus earning a substantial bonus to their retirement pension. “What of the shipyard complex output?”
Mystral flipped over three pages. “After the recent upgrade the station over Bios Prime now has 40 standard and 20 medium construction slips. Construction scheduling is set so that three Domination and three Vengeance class ships will be completed each month, entailing the usage of 39 of the standard slips. The smaller slips will construct advance battleships and prefabricated components of type-6 bases. On a related note the last five percent of the reserve fleet is undergoing refit which will include the augmented cybernetic control net.”
Lugan nodded. The ACCN was the one piece of Bian technology the High Navy decided to incorporate into its ships. A ship so equipped would be able to operate weapons and defenses at full efficiency with only one-third of the required crew. However, certain functions such as servicing strikefighters and operating mobile shipyards would still suffer penalties for being undermanned. The ACCN could’ve been developed to the point that a reduced crew wouldn’t suffer penalties but the HN settled on implementing common sense and philosophical constraints. Wary of ships that might go rogue, the HN made operator input required at several points in the ACCN decision making process.
Mystral lifted another page. “While on the subject of cybernetic controls, Sire, there has been an appreciable reduction in Bian homicides since last year. Projections are still holding for an 82% ‘completion rate’ in five years time.
The king laughed. “Looks like they’re learning family values.” The Bian homicides were a consequence of the Royal Convention on Bian Employment for the High Kingdom, the body of laws that governed the conquered population of Bios. For the most part a police force and civil service composed of those Bians willing to align themselves with their conquerors for prestige and perks enforced the laws and dictates of the crown governor.
One major law was that Bians could no longer be reconstituted from back-up copies if their current memory core was non-functional. With memory restoration vaults banned (and their contents made worthless thanks to intense radiation) enforcement was carried out by a secret, ruthless branch of the police that answered solely to the crown governor. While an individual Bian could still live for hundreds if not thousands of years once the memory core was compromised they were considered dead.
Procreation for Bians was limited to one offspring per couple every 25 years. Instead of an amalgam of personality traits these new offspring were given totally random traits. Parents couldn’t get a ‘do-over’ if the traits weren’t to their liking. Over time this lead to cases of murder when the parents or the child weren’t able to get along with the other. Murders also resulted thanks to the revised inheritance laws, leading to particularly intricate plans on some Bian children’s part to off their parents. The Pulurtans found this to be source of macabre humor, especially when the Bians themselves turned such tragedies into teledramas.
“Our colony on Bios Prime has now reached 15000,” Mystral continued. “Crown Governor Prince Beysek will congratulate the fortunate family during the anniversary celebration next week.
Lugan sighed. “Hard to believe it’s been twenty years since the end of the war. I trust you have a copy of the speech I’ll give next week at the capital?”
Mystral pulled a slim stack of hardcopy from the briefcase by her side. “It’s ready for your inspection, Sire. The speechwriter added the generational perspective you requested.”
“Good.” Lugan took the offered paper and thumbed through it. “Shorter than the one I gave at the 10-year anniversary. Just as well since the generation born after the war has a short attention span.”
Antennae twitching apprehensively, Mystral turned serious. “There is one other matter I’d like to remind you of now before finishing the rest of the Bian report. Tomorrow marks the 68th anniversary of the disappearance of the Gyst loyalist in the Sauna system.”
“Mystral, you know better than to use that word,” Lugan said in spry manner. “They’re not loyalists; they’re outlaws that refused to acknowledge my royal supremacy.” It was no great secret that this particular note in history was a sore point for Lugan, one that he vented his spleen on the fifth anniversary so memorably that further observances just replayed what he said. Officially the Civil War ended when he was crowned king. Subjugating the last Gyst loyalists on Acre, the only inhabited planet left in the High Kingdom aside from the homeworld, was labeled as suppressing a rebellion. As such this was considered the ‘first decisive action’ of the then-young king’s rule.
Having inherited the position of chamberlain from her father Mystral was privy to all secrets of those in and near the court. In private the father always referred to the followers of the Gyst family as loyalists since many of his friends and relatives were on that side of the conflict. Decades of very limited surveying had turned up no sign of the Gyst. Indeed, it was felt that the best chance to find them would’ve been during the Bios War. Again nothing was turned up, and aside from the yearly survey mounted from the very few open warp points left in the High Kingdom all eyes were fixed on the Table Rock/Sauna warp point. Once a year to the day when Sauna’s white dwarf went supernova a survey ship attempted to transit through Table Rock side of the warp point. Each time it was deflected like a rubber ball off an equally-rubbery wall. For the past eighteen years, to spare crews the wrenching sensation they felt during the attempt, advanced reconnaissance drones were deployed.
Still, to be speaking spryly proved to Mystral that Lugan has mellowed since she became his chamberlain. “I seriously doubt that this year will be any different,” he said. “You’ll just be delivering the same report tomorrow morning like you’ve done for the last thirty years. Now, let’s finish this Bian report. I want to spend the rest of the evening going over the speech.”
“Very well, Sire.”
********
Lugan slept alone this particular night for Queen Aythes was at the Crowne Complex personally overseeing the preparations for the Bios War 20th anniversary victory gala. Suffering from a particularly resilient form of lung cancer Aythes refused to let her remaining time be dominated by bed rest and will-sapping medication. The climate that the summer palace enjoyed the majority of the year was the only tonic that alleviated the worst of Aythes’ symptoms. While he had mellowed over the years the passion Lugan felt about the Gyst still burned bright in the background, but now it was eclipsed by his concern about Aythes. After the gala he planned to hold court at the summer palace as much as possible so that his queen would have some relief.
That night he expected a dream about the victory dinner twenty years ago. Instead he was visited by a memory he had all-but suppressed. A dark memory fit to fuel a nightmare. Five months into the Civil War and at almost the start of the Isset Rebellion Lugan had finally tracked down Kysjyt, the one-year-old heir to the throne of King Hysax. Accompanied by his bodyguard and a squad of Isset vassals Lugan was about to seize the hidden shuttle that would’ve taken the child and his protectors to safety when… he showed up.
Archduke Wonset, brother of Hysax and regent for Kysjyt, attacked with the assistance of a handful of knights. Surprise was total. The Isset were slaughtered where they stood, the only thing their gory deaths provided was time for Lugan’s bodyguards to take cover. In a bitterly contested action the knights covered Kysjyt and his retinue’s entry into the shuttle at great expense. Lugan’s men, suffering their own losses, had gotten within fifty meters of the shuttle and were ready to fire portable one-shot rocket launchers. None got off a shot for Wonset smothered them in a hail of grenades. In a brutal slow-motion only possible in nightmares Lugan recalled every one of those small explosions and how each took the life of a trusted comrade.
Not ready to admit defeat Lugan sprinted forward as he knew the grenade launcher had fired its full load. Just one rocket hit in an engine pod would be enough to ground the shuttle. It would’ve been prudent had he kept his eye on Wonset instead of a rocket launcher. A rapid set of leaps on the Archduke’s part placed him right on top of Lugan. Only meticulously-honed reflexes allowed Lugan to draw his sword in time to parry Wonset’s blade. Even so the youthful Pulurtan was off-balanced and fell back, desperate to attain a solid footing. Every bladestroke sounded like thunder, flashing metal as bright as lightning.
Clearly in his element Wonset pressed the advantage. A powerful stroke battered the sword from Lugan’s hand, and immediately he put the edge of it against Lugan’s chestplate. So connected he pushed his younger opponent up against a tree. Being a straight sword it had no sharp tip but a flat, thick edge like a ruler. Nevertheless, Wonset pressed it against the armor with such force that it was actually dented. Had he possessed manic energy the blade would’ve gone through and impaled the young foe.
Just then Wonset jumped back and turned in one fluid motion, blade coming down on the last of Lugan’s bodyguards. The head was severed, falling to the ground like a frozen apple. Expecting to be finished off Lugan saw Wonset fall back to the shuttle. The engines were roaring with life, but despite that he heard the Archduke with the clarity only fear could provide. “That dent will have to do for now, but I’ll know where to pick up next time.” His burst of laughter might as well have been from a demon as far as Lugan was concerned. “You will oblige me, Duke Pulurtan Lugan, by standing still so that when the blade runs through you it won’t hurt as much.”
Lugan woke up in a start, finding himself on the floor as the pillows were scattered about the room. Only the now rare Isset nightmares produced such a scene, his subconscious mind acting out violence in the physical world. After rounding up the tossed bedding he took to the small liquor cabinet and poured a shot of whiskey. For the next hour he brooded, trying to divine the significance of the nightmare as this was the first one that concerned Wonset. Of all the Gyst family Wonset was the one Lugan held with most hostility. Had the memory of the extinct Isset faded just enough to allow the memory of Wonset to come to the top? Or, like 26 years ago with the Bians, was it message from the ether that foretold peril for the High Kingdom?
One of only a handful of people entered the royal bedchamber at this hour without preamble. It was Chamberlain Mystral, and her antennae were twitching. “Your Highness, this news cannot wait until morning. The Table Rock/Sauna warp point is now open. Six recon drones have confirmed the stability of the warp point. As per standing orders regarding reestablished access to Sauna a squadron of Claims entered the system to conduct a survey under cloak.”
All the woolgathering was banished in an instant. “The Table Rock fleet base and its attending defense task force are at alert?” Lugan inquired, even though he knew it to be the case.
“Yes, Sire. Bases stationed at Table Rock 3 have been towed to the warp point and buoys and mines deployed from Table Rock 5-A’s depots.”
Lugan stood up and walked towards the windows. The very slight glow along the horizon told him dawn was about to break. In contrast his thoughts were dark and getter darker. “Have Dukes Belyn and Mastys sent to Table Rock immediately. They’re the closest. In the eventually we do find the Gyst on the far side of Sauna’s other warp points those two will act with full authority as crown ambassadors.”
Mystral was incredulous. “Ambassadors? Your Highness, it may be a bit early to assume the Gyst are still alive. The odds were heavily against them when they fled. Coupled with difficulty in establishing a colony with only the resources they brought along there are other imponderables such as disease, famine and fractiousness. We’ll be lucky the find the ships they mothballed on some moon let alone a failed settlement.”
There was fire in the eye when Lugan turned around. “If Wonset can escape from a seemingly impossible situation then there’s nothing beyond their reach. No, I say the odds of him being alive are remote, that insufferable bastard, but the Gyst are alive in some remote system, perhaps have even made a small empire. Our ambassadors will determine how tractable they are in coming back in the High Kingdom.”
“They would be wise to join the High Kingdom in the spirit of reconciliation,” Mystral said despite that she didn’t believe one word of it. As long as the Gyst still had the Diamond Scepter they could say they’re the legitimate rulers of the realm. Lugan would settle for nothing less than getting the scepter in his possession, even if he had to pry it out of the dead hands of whatever Gyst royal was in charge.
With antennae slanting down Lugan showed his intensity. “Mystral, I want my speechwriter here no later than breakfast. By dinner tonight the people of Fendala will the first ones in the kingdom to hear that 68-year-old wounds and accountings will finally be settled. The High Kingdom will now truly be made whole in my lifetime.”
End chapter 4
-- Zume