NationStates Jolt Archive

The Grand Duke Solomon Klonor slowly rose from his bed, a headache behind his eyes but a smile on his face. The first he could cure quite easily, the second he wanted to stay for quite a while. When you have seen and done as much as he had, a pleasant night sleep was a rarity that you grew to appreciate. Of course, sleep ended once you awoke and you often have to deal with real life issues afterwards. Grabbing a few pills off the side table he got to work at killing the pain in his head, the day’s business got to work at killing the grin on his lips.

“Celie, bring in a cup of coffee and a small Scotch, please.” He called out to his secretary, who was not in the least perturbed at alcohol being delivered side by side with a wake up cup of coffee. When you lived in a nation than ran on its dead liver you began to grow accustomed to alcohol going along with every activity it could that would not result in death or horrible maiming, and a few it could not.

“Yes, sir, right away, sir. Oh, we also have the newest treaty from Vernii on passage to Gregor; as well as an agreement on mining rights. It needs your notation at the bottom before it can be passed to the People’s Assembly.”

“So, how much did those bastards manage to gouge out of us?” The light tone of his voice made it clear that he bore Vernii no real ill will, “I hope we can still pass through without giving up half the yearly budget,” but it was obvious he still wanted an answer.

“Not too much, sir. A standard tax for civilian passage, increased tax for anything military, and even more for anything government. Thankfully, mining companies’ get a few small breaks so most of the traffic to and fro will get by and still have enough left to afford the trip home.”

“Well, that’s nice. Here, gimme the papers and I’ll mark ‘em like I have to. Let’s hope the Assembly can pass this before next year, I’d like for the ore to start flowing soon. We’re beginning to bulk up the navy and the ships won’t even make it out of dock if they’re missing half a hull.” Quickly signing the extremely thick packet of papers, briefly skimming some of the paragraph heads so he knew it was not completely off from what he had been told, he handed it back to his secretary as he quickly gulped his coffee and then knocked back his shot of Scotch. “Here, have this taken to the Assembly room as soon as you can. Then tell the representatives that I want it passed as soon as possible, if we get it done before the end of next month we’re talking thousands of new jobs just in time for the holiday season. Tell them it’s better for the economy; I’m sure that ‘the common good’ won’t be enough to move them along any quicker. Now, get me another Scotch and get out.”

Grinning, the secretary grabbed both empty glasses and the treaty. Well used to the Dukes cavalier treatment of both the Palace staff and important matters of State she knew better than to be offended by his brusk manner and easy dismissal. For the Duke it was a sign of affection. At least, that is what she and the other Palace staffed hoped. The man was willing to go out drinking with the even lowest of janitors, but he never let even the Fleet Admirals and Captains of Industry into his inner thoughts. At least, that is also what she and rest of the staff hoped; the Fleet Admirals and Captains of Industry would not even drink with them, so they had nothing to compare their own experiences with.

Once Celie left the Duke collapsed back onto his bed, his grin now a very deep frown as he moped to himself.

“Man, I will never enjoy these hard and long five minute days. They make me question whether I should even bother getting out bed,” But he could not even hold a straight face in private and he began laughing almost before the words had even left his mouth, “Man, I know a couple men who would kill to have my job. Oh, well. Luck of the sperm, I guess. Now, how should I spend the rest of my day?”

Getting up from his bed he approached the window in the far corner, leaning against the wall as he gazed at the beautiful panorama displayed before him. Beyond the wall, hundreds of thousands of kilometers away, floated the planet from which the Deneb system took its name. Serenely it swam through space, orbiting the double suns of the solar system and carrying in its wake millions of manufactured ships; from cargo transports to yachts to military vessels and beyond. The vacuum of space was anything but, filled with the fruits of Klonors labor. Gazing out into space, seeing the wondrous space ships and stations strung out before him, he again pondered how he would spend the rest of the day.

Lieutenant, Class III, Sector 7G, Johansen Curaldi, Auxiliary Weapons Officer for the ASCv Hornet, woke up with a headache behind his eyes and a frown on his face. As he slowly made his way to the shower, bumping his head on the ceiling numerous times and stubbing his toes on the junk that was stuffed in the hallway, he mentally hurtled insults at Dionysus for ever introducing alcohol to the human race. Then again, he should probably hurl insults at the Duke instead; if he had never invented that infernal Collostomizer then Johansen would not have been up all night pouring them down his throat.

Now, if only I could afford a few scrubbers. I tell you, those things make every morning-after be even better than the night-before. But when’s the last time that anybody below a Class V could afford them more than twice a year? The military’s a pretty screwed machine; they pay us in drinks but don’t give us the ability to enjoy our pay. The whole lot of them should burn.

Of course he kept all this inside his own head, in Klonor if you treated the Duke as anything less than a near-God you were practically hanged on the spot. Ironically, it was usually only the Duke himself who could keep the mob from doing the hanging.

Scratch that, it’s not the military that’s screwed up, it’s the whole damn country. It’d be better if Keane was still in charge, that guy knew how to treat his soldiers right. He also helped the entire economy collapse and didn’t let a single new technological development come about during his reign, but as long as you’ve got a strong arm who needs a strong mind?

Sporting a tiny grin at his brilliant new theory on government, Johansen reached the communal showers that were shared by all the soldiers who lived in the Hornets 7G sections and proceeded to ready himself for duty. Quickly wetting himself and beginning to reach for the usual cleaning materials he resumed his internal monologue.

And it’s not just the Duke, it’s this entire damned ‘Association’ he’s built. Before him….well, at least before he died that last time, we were an Empire! We were strong, and our subjects knew they were our subjects. Oh, we never treated them badly, we’re all part of the Greater Klonor after all, but now-a-days every member of the Klonor Assembly thinks he’s Emperor or something. Every different system you go to has its own laws and its own society, there’s nothing keeping us together anymore. Just a few lines on some old papers listing our joint-rule and that’s it. You know, I bet if you went from Regulus to Epsilon Pegasi you wouldn’t even know you were in the same nation; damn Elves have probably changed the whole system.

Now Johansen was just ranting to himself, the man had never left Deneb, let alone even seen an Elf; but prejudice did not come from long time experience with other races or a broad view of the Universe, it came from ignorance and he had plenty of it. That by itself was enough of a reason for him to never make it past Class III, but when you add on gross incompetence and a rather nasty habit of treating your superiors like a nasty stain on the glossy white surface of the Klonor Space Corps the odds of you getting promoted on a regular basis are not the largest in the world. Of course he just blamed that all on “The Damn Elvish Conspiracy” and sank deeper into his pit of hatred.

Man, if I ever even hear one of those Elf-loving bastards talking about all the ‘cultural diversity’ they bring to Klonor I swear to Minerva I might just---

But what he ‘just might do’ he never found out, he had lost track of time during his mental rant and was late for his shift on the bridge. Fortunately for him, though probably not from his point of view, the computer kept track of when each crewman was due for duty and made sure that nobody was ever late. Regardless of whether or not they wanted to be. Without even so much as a warning the Phase Gate installed in the floor of the shower activated and transported Johansen directly to his station behind the Captains Chair. Unfortunately, it did not dress him first, or even dry him off, and he appeared stark naked, dripping wet, and covered in suds.

“Uh……Lieutenant Curaldi, Weapons Officer, Reporting for duty, sir.”

The Captain merely eyed him up and down, suppressed a smirk, and then nodded.

“Man your station, Lieutenant; and try not to leave a puddle.”

“If I’ve told you once I’ve told you a thousand times, they don’t do one single damn thing for this place and you know it!”

The shouts were coming from a dark booth near the back of the Screaming Wookie where a few of the Hornets day shift were spending their night and sharing a bottle of Collostomizers. Unfortunately for the other crew members in attendance, Johansen was doing more ranting than drinking and was ruining the buzz for the rest of them.

“After all,” he continued, “Aren’t they the ones who started that Civil War in Epsilon Pegasi when the Empire fell? Unless I’m mistaken they struck the first blow against the human settlers on the other planet, and damn near got both colonies wiped out.”

“Well, Lieutenant, Class III,” the stress placed on his rank was unmistakable by any of the other men in attendance, “I was there and believe me, you are mistaken. Sure the Elves struck first, but only because the Humans had removed every Elf officer from command on every ship still loyal to the Corps and were already planning an assault on the Elvish world if they didn’t submit unconditionally to Human rule. Are you going to say that I’m wrong?”

The challenge in his voice was unmistakable, but not even Johansen was going to argue with a Lieutenant, Class VII. Rumors around the ship said he would be promoted rather soon and was even in line for a Captainship, possibly to take over as First Officer on the Hornet when the current one was given a command of his own. He was not a man to make an enemy of.

“Now I’m going to say this once and only once, and you’d better listen very closely. Lay off the Elves.” The other crewmen in attendance had suddenly become quiet, they knew when to shut up and pay attention. “I know a dozen stationed right next door on the ASI Hilldalle who could beat you to within an inch of your life without even winding themselves. They’ve done more for this nation than you ever could, and I’d rather have even the worst of them by my side than a close-minded fool like yourself. Want to know something else, and this will make sense to man who sees everything in species and color, you make me ashamed to call my self a Human. In fact, I’d be ashamed to call myself a citizen of Klonor if it weren’t for the men sitting here with us and the Elves you so carelessly bash, they’re all that’s keep me from fleeing the country to be free from the likes of you. One more thing, if I hear you utter one single racist comment while on duty, even the tiniest of remarks, I’ll have you down to a Class II, a Class I if I can wring it. Hell, if I’m lucky you might just end up as a Junior Grade and end up cleaning the Rifles again. Am I clear?”

“Yeah, you’re clear,” the response was barely audible.

“What was that?”

“You’re clear, sir.” A bit louder this time, Johansen visibly seethed with rage.

“Good; now, I am going to finish drinking this fine drink and it would make me mighty happy to not hear your voice again until it’s all gone. Am I clear?”

“Ye—“

“What did I just say?”

This time Johansen merely nodded; and the other crewmen tried to hold back small laughs that caused their sides to jiggle.

“Good. Now, another round?”

This time the announcement was met with cheers as the men poured from the bottle again and began to drink all over again, the argument forgotten. But not Johansen, he just sat there and seethed, his gaze never leaving the eyes of his antagonist.

One day, you’ll be all alone, and those damn Elves you love so much won’t be there to see me gut you.

Aboard the Associated Systems Installation Hilldalle, the Duke met with a representative from the Klonor Assembly who had traveled several light-years from Epsilon Pegasi to meet with him personally. The two sat in the center of an arena, with hundreds of spectators on both sides of them and a simple wooden table between them. The Dukes gaze was as solid as a rock, his eyes did not blink and they moved not one iota from their target. Slowly, he extended his right hand and curled it into a fist, holding it above the table about shoulder-high. Opposite the Duke sat the Klonor Assembly representative from the Elvin planet in Epsilon Pegasi, his gaze just as steady as the Dukes. Slowly, even more slowly than the Duke had, he reached out with his left hand and pressed a button set into the table right in front of him. With a dramatic whoosh the wooden board set into the table, previously obscuring all but their eyes from the other, disappeared into a small puff of smoke and suddenly the hands of each man was visible to the other. The Duke with his fist….and the Elf with his fingers straight out!

With a shout of glee echoed by the hundreds in attendance the Elf leaped to his feet and let out a whoop of joy as he vanquished the Duke at the end of a pitched battle of Rock, Paper, Scissors that had lasted throughout the night. Finally, the eternal tie had been broken and a victor declared.

“Well son of a bitch, you beat me! Oh, there goes my record and my title. Arrgh, how shall I manage to continue living? I must now end my life to atone for this shameful defeat!”

“I have a better idea, why don’t you just buy us all a round and we’ll call it even?”

“You know, for some reason I like your idea better.” Before he’d even finished agreeing to it the Duke had already signaled for drinks to be served all around, “But I do want a rematch, and you’re not leaving Deneb until I get one!”

“Tell you what, give me a ride in the Colossus and you’ve got your re-match,” the Elves were known as shrewd negotiators and this one was proving every rumor true. “I’ve been fantasizing over that ship ever since I saw it in dock on the way in from the Jump-Node.”

“The Colossus? My Colossus? The pride and joy of the Denebian Ship Yards? My baby since we first immigrated to space from Old Sol? The Flagship of the Klonor Space Corps? That Colossus?”

“Yup, that one.”

“Works for me. Tell you what; I’ll even take you all the way back to Epsilon Pegasi on it, since I’m such a good sport.” Pausing for a long swill from the bottle which seemed perpetually attached to his hand, the Duke continued, “Now, what did you come to Deneb for in the first place?”

“I don’t know, I think some new treaty between the Humans and Elves in EP or some other garbage like that. Truth be told I really don’t pay much attention when they’re trying to brief me, to much talking and way to little beer flowing. I think there should be a law against something like that.”

“There is a law against something like that, but the people in charge of enforcing it are usually to drunk to do so. Sadly, we must grin and bare it. It’s not easy doing our jobs, always being a servant to the public. We have to make sacrifices.” Of course, the fact that this speech was coming after a combination Rock, Paper, Scissors Tournament and Drinking Contest made the ‘sacrifices’ seem pretty pleasant compared to some alternatives.

“Tell me about it, do you know that on the trip here the ship ran out of wine to serve with the meals?”

“No way! Seriously?”

“I’m dead serious here, for a day and a half we had to drink……milk!”

“The horror! Well, don’t worry about that anymore; the Colossus has the largest liquor supply this side of Regulus. It should probably get us all the way to Epsilon Pegasi and back while keeping us more than a little inebriated.”

“Excellent, excellent. Anyway, back to my actual purpose for coming all the way here, a couple of the more worrisome Elves back home are getting a bit worried, there’s been a huge surge of Anti-Elf sentiment on the Human planet; it hasn’t been this bad since the very end of the War. People are beginning to worry that violence is coming soon, and that some of it might not be so random and spur-of-the-moment. They really just want a few assurances that the Association, and the Great Duke himself,” the Elf could not help but chuckle a bit at that part, “are going to step in when things go bad, and more importantly that they’ll step in our side.”

“Come on Mike, you know I can’t say that. If I do that then tomorrow I’ll get half the Human pop of the entire Association showing up on my door step claiming that I’m neglecting that side of the species gap and they’ll be calling for my head. What I will tell you is that, if any violence does break out, we won’t be the start of it and we’ll do our best to make sure it stops as soon as it starts, no matter who starts it. That’s the best I can do.”

“Duke, that’s good enough for me. I just hope it’s enough for the radicals back home, they’re not as easy to please as me.”

“Hey, you’re a good guy, for an Elf that is, I’m sure you can do it.”

“Why you little……!”

The Elf leapt at the Duke in mock-rage, laughing all the way.

“So, since everything official has been covered, more drinking?”

“Duke, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

Unfortunately, there are some things even beyond the control of the great Grand Duke Solomon Klonor. As the two dignitaries approached a bar on one side of the room, weaving their way between the hundreds of spectators who had gathered to watch the spectacular Rock, Paper, Scissors competition and were now simply having a good time, an odd whistling sound seemed to permeate the air. It was so faint it was almost overshadowed by the sound of ones own heart, but even so it was heard by nearly every person in attendance. Nobody could place it, it was not the sound of any weapon or entertainment device that they were familiar with and no obvious source could be discerned. In fact, they were close to simply ignoring the sound and going back to the party when the Duke realized what it was. It had been centuries since he had heard this specific sound, mainly because it was emitted by a device only used in space against enemy nations, and for good reason. But something like this sticks with you, and this time it stuck out in his mind a second before it hit him full in the face.

“Harbinger!” He shouted, mere seconds before the entire arena, the entire space station, everything out to the patrol ships hovering several kilometers beyond the hull was atomized in a flash of atomic fusion.

Supreme General Richard Ihm sat in his chair and stared at the display screen in front of him. On the screen, playing over and over again, was a video of the Hilldalle going up in a puff of smoke as somebody used Klonors own weaponry against itself. Off to the Generals side was another view screen showing a veritable army of engineers crawling over the Harbinger Cannon that had somehow been directed to fire on the one man who should never have come under fire. Not here, not in Deneb, not in the very heart of Klonor territory. No enemy had ever penetrated the defenses around Deneb, no rebellion had ever marred its surface, no threat had ever existed here. This was supposed to be the one place where the Duke was completely safe from any foreign enemy. Instead, his own defenses sent him to the Great Beyond. Now what was left of the government was trying to find out why.

“Attention General Richard Ihm, Attention General Richard Ihm” The squawking on the radio at his hip jolted Richard out of his funk as his duty was called forward. “This is Research Team Gamma aboard Harbinger Cannon 04. We’ve completed a full scan of all three on-board positronic brains, none have any detectable errors. At all. The gunners sure as hell didn’t launch the shell; we’ve already scanned all their memories for the past day. Somebody had to have actually sent a command to fire, this wasn’t a malfunction. Not only that, but that ‘somebody’ has to have been a member of the Association government. There’s no detectable breaking on the brains, nobody had to crack the codes to get in. They were authorized to use the Cannons.”

“Do you have any idea who it was yet?”

“Not yet, sir, we’re still backtracking through the code to find out which user triggered the firing sequence. We should know within the hour.”

“Very good, keep me informed. General Ihm out.”

With a sigh the General disconnected the call, and then considered his options. They were not many and they were not pretty. A) Declare martial law B) Turn over complete Monarchy powers to the Consuls on an indefinite basis or C) Do nothing and just wait for the Duke to pop up again. If he went with A he would be tearing down the democracy that that he had sworn to protect, he would be helping the petty dictators that he took so much pleasure in squashing. It went against every fiber of his being. If he went with B it would signify that the Duke was really dead. There would be mass panic and probably riots, the populace was not ready for that yet. Come to think of it, he was not ready for that yet. C…..well, C was the most unappealing. He was a man of action; he needed to do something, even if that something was not the best thing to do. Waiting just did not come naturally to him. But before he could completely rule it out he would need to contact a few scientists who had not been used in centuries. They were only ones who could offer any insight into what had happened. They were the only scientists to have studied an actual Trophy Light cigarette.