Treasure Hunt (The Two Moons of Rehnor, Book 9), Page 3

  Her second test was to try on a dress that she wore when she was twelve years old. That was the last time she had felt thin in her entire life. By thirteen, she was already bigger than Aunt Marie, despite Marie's having given birth. If Angelica could fit into that dress and manage to zip the zip, then she'd reward herself with a little bite of lunch. Only then, did she attempt the third phase of her personal exam, which was to go out in public wearing the tiniest outfit she could find.

  It was a horrific experience to do this, to be seen and snapped with so much skin exposed. But, in Angelica's mind, it was the only way to view her entire body without distortion. A mirror simply couldn't show all the places she needed to see, and the hangers on who accompanied her only told her what they assumed she wanted to hear.

  Afterward and in private, she would study all the pics very carefully, comparing herself to previous pics and everyone else in them. Was she smaller or larger? Did something hang or wobble? Was that cellulite already forming on her thigh? If she found any signs of telltale fat, she'd be back to phase one in her testing process. Once, she practically starved herself for an entire week.

  Angelica's mother had an idea that something was going on. The nanny had mentioned an eating disorder once or twice. Even, Marie had expressed some concern, but Elana figured it was just a faze. After all, didn't every teenager agonize over anything and everything?

  "She'll grow out of it," Elana assured herself when she had a moment to spare. Her duties as the Crown Princess of Cyganus kept her busy day in and day out. Angelica's latest angst were, unfortunately, on the bottom of Elana's priority list, immediately following the welfare of two hundred million Cyganians and a handful of Corganians.

  Angelica's father was busy, as well. As Captain of the Imperial Starship, Queen of Rozari, Marik Korelesk was never home. In fact, home to him was his two bedroom suite, the penthouse on the top deck of his ship. Occasionally, his wife and daughter would come to visit. As of late, this was happening less and less. Elana complained that she missed too much of her own work and Angelica insisted she got spacesick.

  In truth, though he missed them, Marik had never liked Cyganus. It was positively primitive compared to his home town, New Mishnah, the Capital City of Rehnor. The tiny Cyganian palace was a shack when compared to the glorious Palace of Mishnah where Marik had spent a great deal of his youth. His wife's future Queendom was a blot next to his future duchy of Korelesk, one of the largest provinces in the entire Empire.

  All that being said, Marik was extremely happy in his marriage. Elana was the only woman he had ever met who could match his appetite. She could chug beer like his buddies. She could scarf burgers like a pro. In bed, she was game to do anything Marik wanted.

  Marik adored his beautiful daughter. She was the apple of his eye. He could stare at her picture for hours, his heart bursting with pride and joy.

  Sometimes, when they were together, he found her whining a little annoying. She had a tendency to snap or treat him as if he was dumb. Marik was more than six and a half feet tall, weighed a bit over three hundred pounds, and was feared by everyone who ever came into contact with him. Only his daughter, his little Princess Angelica, reduced him to a state that sometimes made him want to cry.

  By the time he had ended his visit with her, it was a relief to return to space. She had too many emotions he couldn't deal with, and no matter what he said, it was always wrong. He could never win an argument from either side. Dealing with Angelica was worse than fighting Magragians from Messier 83 when they invaded the outskirts of the Milky Way and threatened to destroy the Empire. At least with them, there was some predictability to their actions. He could order them destroyed, and the problem was gone.

  Marik was reflecting exactly this when his cell rang. As the call originated from the Palace of Mishnah, he assumed it was his mother. She, too, drove him nuts with her constant criticism of his wife, his child and his life. If that wasn't enough, she complained incessantly about his father. Although his parents had been married more than forty years, they both seemed to have forgotten why they did. For some strange reason, they thought that Marik would like to listen to their complaints about who did what to whom and when they did it.

  "What?" Marik grumbled into his phone.

  "Marik." It was his father, Lord Berkan, Duke of Korelesk. "Have you got a moment? I need to speak with you." Marik sat straighter in his chair. It was not often his father rang just to chat. Furthermore, the tone of his voice was grave, indicating a serious conversation. "Marik," Lord Berkan continued and then proceeded to describe the event of a spaceplane crash upon Lyra II with the Ambassador aboard.

  Marik listened, already planning how to respond. The Lyrian sector was only four clicks away from their current position. The Queen of Rozari was patrolling this quadrant, and it had all been rather boring up until now. The crew would be pleased to initiate a search and rescue mission. Marik waved his hand for Commander Kiman to join him at the helm.

  "One more thing," Lord Berkan added, his voice drifting even lower. Marik held up his hand so Kiman would stop in place and wait until he was done. "Marik, this is between just you and me. The Emperor is gravely ill. He may not survive this time. I'm telling you so you will be prepared, just in case."

  Marik hung up his cell and wagged his finger at Kiman who stepped forward to await his Captain's orders. For a moment, Marik was lost in his own thoughts. He stared out into space because that was where he was. The view from the ship's bridge was an endless cascade of stars with an occasional flickering light denoting a passing ship. The stars, the moons and the ships belonged to the Empire and the Emperor, who was now lying in a hospital bed, nearly dead.

  "Marik?" Kiman prodded while waiting patiently at the Captain's side. "You summoned me?"

  "Yes." Distractedly, Marik focused his thoughts on the task, the scout mission to Lyra II to rescue a crashed ship.

  Kiman nodded and headed to his desk to initiate the action with haste. Marik watched Kiman's back, and then, let his eyes roam across the others on his bridge.

  Abruptly, the Captain jumped up and went back to his cabin. Alone there, he poured himself a draught of Cyganian ale. It was one of the only two things he liked about his wife's planet. The ale was good, and the football team wasn't half bad. Then, Marik paced the length of his suite, drinking his ale and doing some thinking, for his mind was reeling with the possibility of the Emperor's death.

  The Korelesk family holdings included the duchies of Korelesk and Kildoo which encompassed nearly half the continent of Mishnah. His father, Lord Berkan, was first cousin to the Emperor while Marik's mother was the Empress's best friend. Marik was raised at the Palace as if it were his own house. The thought flickered across Marik's mind that perhaps, it was time for the Korelesk family to take control. After all, they were directly descended from the Saint, Markiis Kalila, who had ruled Rozari, more than a thousand years ago. Granted, his grandfather, Loman was of illegitimate birth, but still, there was no other line of more noble blood. The Korelesks would change their name to Kalila and the Saint would rise again.

  Marik knew there was a written Constitution. He had studied the law as much as anyone in the SpaceNavy Command. Yet, he also understood that the Emperor was the glue that held this mass together. There were so many different kinds of people; so many races, creeds and species.

  There were simply too many planets and governments, politicians and idiots that would want to do things their own way. The Empire had lasted this long only because the Emperor had kept them all in check.

  In truth, Marik thought, the people were incredibly stupid. They needed someone to explain what was right and what was wrong. Without at an Emperor to veto their mistakes, they would once again become little more than sheep. They all required a firm but loving hand to keep them free.

  Marik stopped his pacing and looked in the fridge. He took out a chunk of sausage and tossed it in his mouth. Then, he sat down on his couch, and put his feet upon the table,
while reflecting on his cousin, the Imperial Prince.

  Marik knew, as did everyone, that Shika was prohibited from claiming the throne. This was a good thing since the guy was a total jerk. He had inherited from his parents the worst qualities of both. He was part drunken Karupta loser and half a human.

  Marik, on the other hand, was entirely Mishnese. He had, in his opinion, all the qualities that would make the ideal king. He was married to a future queen, which only helped to enhance his résumé. He had served on five of the Imperial Starships and had an excellent reputation.

  Yes, Marik thought, this is what must be done. He must initiate an imperial coupe d'état, although he wasn't sure how. He must win his father the crown, so that he would inherit it later. Marik lifted his gaze to the frame on his desk where a lovely pic of Angelica smiled back at him.

  Yes, Marik decided, he would make his beautiful daughter a future Empress, and in the meantime, Berkan Korelesk would replace Sehron de Kudisha.

  Chapter 4

  When Shika got the call that his father was not breathing, he was still perched in his father's chair, his shoes upon his father's desk. Shika clutched the cell in his hand for a moment, Lord Berkan's voice echoing in his ear. Slowly, Shika set the phone down on the desk, although Berkan continued to speak, demanding attention.

  The Imperial Prince closed the connection, shutting Berkan off, and then, rose unsteadily to his feet for in the hours that he had sat there, he had consumed a great deal of his father's vodka. His head spun a little, and his bladder expressed some urgency. Shika ignored them both, trying instead to focus his mind on what was to come next.

  The bright fire crackled in the hearth and sent shadows of ghosts flying across the dark room as Shika approached blaze, and grasped a poker. He prodded the large log that was resting on the top.

  "You've choked us all enough," Shika declared, thrusting as if he held a sword. "I vanquish you to eternity below amongst the flames." The log split into pieces, sparks bursting up from where it had been, a plume of fire and ash drifting like a cloud. Shika laughed at what he had done and laughed again for what he would now do. "It's my turn," he announced and unzipped his trousers. For a moment, he doused the flames, drowning the blaze with his water stream, but unbeknownst to him, he also sealed his own fate.

  Several hours later, Lord Berkan found the Imperial Prince passed out cold on the sofa in the Emperor's office. It took a fair amount of prodding to waken the younger man.

  "Go sit with your mother," Lord Berkan ordered, to which the Prince responded with a profane expression. Lord Berkan walked away disgustedly shaking his head, his mind already calculating what must be done.

  Eventually, Shika dragged himself to his feet. He ran his hand across his unshaven face and belched up some intestinal gas. He found his shoes beneath the couch, and his coat on the back of his father's chair. After running his fingers through his hair, he headed into the exterior office.

  "Where is he?" Shika demanded of his father's personal assistant, Lord Kinar, who had served the Emperor even before Shika's birth.

  "In the hospital wing, of course," Kinar replied, omitting the title, ‘Sir’, which Shika would have snapped at if he had noticed.

  Fortunately for Kinar, the Prince was far too hung over to be cognizant of any errors in protocol. The young man stumbled into the corridor and waited for the lift. He chose not to walk the Palace's enclosed hallways but be carried there instead in Imperial Style. His head swam as he was whisked more than a half mile away and when the doors swished open to reveal the hospital, Shika left the contents of his stomach on the lift's hitherto pristine marble floors.

  The patient's room was guarded, as the Emperor never went anywhere without an escort, even when he was dead, or nearly so. Shika waited for the guards to bow in a manner befitting his station. Then, he allowed them to open the door so he might enter and comfort his mother. She was alone in the room; well, unless you counted his father who indeed looked more dead than alive.

  Above the Emperor's head, the SdK monitor showed a heartbeat and a blood pressure, but his brain activity was only a tick above zero. Unexpectedly, Shika felt a lump in his throat. He also felt what could have been a lump in his head. That was probably the result of the drinking binge he had just concluded.

  "Have you got an aspirin in here, Mom?" Shika asked.

  Katie glared back at him with cold, hard eyes. "Get out of here," she growled under her breath.

  "No," Shika insisted and when he shook his head it throbbed. "I'll just go get a pill and glass of water. I promise, I'll be right back. I'm here for you for the entire duration. I so love you, Queen Mother, and of course, dear King Father, too. I'll be here to support and aid you in any way I can."

  From the chair beside her husband's bed, Katie watched her son depart the room. She clasped the Emperor's lifeless hand tightly in her lap. Absently, she rubbed the two Firestone rings on his third and fourth fingers, watching the tiny flames flicker inside.

  Katie recalled her first wedding ring, a blue Firestone similar to these. It had belonged to the wife of the Saint, and was considered a priceless antiquity. As it turned out, Katie lost it years ago in a spaceplane crash. The irreplaceable gem was now sitting somewhere at the bottom of a sea. Katie wore only a simple gold band, while for more than forty years, Senya had worn her grandfather's wedding ring.

  "Don't you do this," she hissed at him. "We've been together too long to be apart. Don't you leave me now to deal with your son, and everyone else who is scheming to take control."

  Of course, there was no response, which infuriated her even more.

  "I don't know where you are, but I want you back here now!"

  Having exhausted her frustration on those brief exclamations, Katie's fury deflated like a popped balloon. When the nurse arrived, a short time later, curtseying deeply by the door, she found the Empress slumped in her chair, her eyes so red and swollen; she appeared as if someone had twice punched her in the face.

  "Madame." The nurse dipped again. "I need a bit of blood." She held up the syringe and the phlebotomy tray, her hands trembling in the Imperial Presence.

  "Do what you need to do," Katie replied hoarsely, surrendering the hand attached to the arm which contained the blood the nurse had requested. Katie rose to her feet and went to gaze out the window at the familiar rock formations off the coast.

  "Very, very sorry, Sir," the nurse spoke as she extracted the blood. "Tiny poke is all. Now, I just need to fill four vials. It shall just take a moment or two. Sorry, if this hurts. Very, very sorry."

  "He was a fucking brain surgeon!" Katie snapped. "He knows how it's done. You don't have to speak to him as if he were an imbecile."

  "So sorry, Madame!" The nurse nearly dropped the tray, as well as the full vial she was holding. Tears came to her eyes as she knelt down on the floor. "I beg your pardon, Madame."

  Although, Katie immediately felt remorse, she had no strength to apologize to the innocent girl. Instead, she walked out of the room to let the nurse work without distraction.

  "Where's my son?" She asked the guards, who glanced at each other before pointing at a neighboring room.

  Although it was fleeting, Katie noticed the smirk that passed between them. She hesitated for a moment. She really didn't want to speak with Shika anyway. It occurred to Katie if she sought him out, she might discover him passed out on a hospital bed.

  Instead, she waited patiently for the nurse to finish her duties, and then Katie returned to her husband's side. She lodged herself once again in the same chair, and once again, clasped the same hand in her lap and resumed the vigil for as long as it would take.

  When Lord Berkan stopped by a few hours later to see if any progress had been made, he discovered the Empress curled up in the bed asleep, her head pillowed upon the Emperor's shoulder. She had one hand on his chest as if monitoring his heartbeat and one leg wrapped around one of his. Berkan straightened the hospital blanket, so it kept the both of them warm,
and then he turned off the lights and silently departed. To the Imperial guards waiting outside, he bid them not to disturb despite who or what situations might arise.

  "What if it's the Prince?" One of them asked. "Perhaps, he'll want to visit with his mum and dad."

  "No," Berkan replied, "especially, not him."

  Chapter 5

  Rent didn't particularly mind living on Darius VI, as he lived on the warm side. All year round, the cold side was about two hundred degrees below, while the warm side hovered at just above zero. Six, as the locals called it, didn't rotate on its axis, which made it an extremely unpleasant place to be if one ever went outside the bubble.

  Rent had been out a few times, dressed in an enclosed space suite, of course. Mostly it was to clean the vents, or to guide an overly enthusiastic tourist on a tour of the cold and dark rock formations. Rent hated going outside. He hated suiting up and then not being able to use the bathroom for several hours. If he knew he'd have to go out, he'd starve himself before, which only served to make his nervous stomach worse.

  Rent managed the only hotel on Six, which was a small bed and breakfast called the SpaceWay Inn Motel. Actually, it served lunch and dinner, too as there were no other establishments on the entire planet. Rent had exactly forty-eight rooms to let, of which, they were almost always full.

  Six was a lovely place to visit if you had plenty of money and had been everywhere else. Honeymooners liked it, although Rent could never figure out exactly why. If they wanted an excuse to hide in bed for a week, why not go to someplace cheaper on Two or Three?

  Rent and Alyssa, his wife of six months, four days, and three minutes, honeymooned on his home planet, Darius II, in a town by a beach. They stayed in a motel that hadn't been updated for at least two centuries, but it was very inexpensive, which was convenient because Rent was pretty much broke.