Book 0: FIELDS OF FIRE Chapter vii

Stuart came home to his quarters on the Quantid and sank into a soft chair. Erich brought in a plate of a favorite dish called spice-and-noodle, ordered from the dining hall earlier and warmed up for Stuart in their quarters.

"Was the assignment terrible, Father?" Erich asked, his eyes round in wonder. He sat down on the floor before Stuart to bask in his father's love and hear stories of heroism and bravery.

"It was harrowing; every stone was a challenge," Stuart admitted as he patted his son’s shoulder. "But you and your mother are safe, so it was well worth it. I certainly hope we do not face something like that again, however."

They heard a pounding on the door. Aura answered it. Darien leaned against the doorpost, a haggard, hollow-eyed look on his face.

"A morsel," he requested with a weak groan. "We who are fliers deplore our task in this most ungodly state of hunger."

"Come in," Stuart called. After regarding him for a moment, Aura guided Darien in by the arm and sat him in a chair near his brother. Erich got another plate of food, and Aura pulled over a table to accommodate both plates. Stuart ate his spice-and-noodles with gusto. Darien took four bites before he rested his head beside his plate on the table and fell asleep.

"I thought you were in an ungodly state," Erich called out into his uncle’s ear contritely.

"Erich, you should have let him sleep," Stuart objected. "Darien, go ahead and rest some more."

Darien roused himself and wiped off a bit of spice on his cheek. "No, I do not dare ignore a plate in Aura's presence. I may never get another chance to dine with my brother."

"That is not so," Aura scoffed. "I only refuse to host you when you behave abominably." He looked at her through weary reddened eyes and cocked an eyebrow. She laughed at his self-deprecation. "Well, perhaps you had best eat now." He smiled a half-hearted smile of acknowledgment and ate the dinner.

He certainly must be tired and hungry, Stuart thought. It was not often Darien willingly sat down to eat with Aura.

The entire Armada was brought to a crawl as repair crews went out to assess and repair damage. Communications were spotty and the engineers concentrated on those repairs first. Many receivers and transmitters were damaged or destroyed, and this meant a great deal of flight walk time for Gareth and his comrades.

Gareth did not mind flight walk as a general rule. Zero gravity darkness in a pressurized suit and moving around independently of the ships was not the problem. Moving around while airsick and weary from lack of rest was. Gareth did not complain. He would much rather be tired and nauseous in spacewalk than attempt to fly and shoot down boulders. His aim was not as good as the warriors, and they could not repair the damage.

He and the other engineers and repair specialists worked around the clock, stopping only long enough to come back on-board whichever ship they were on to eat a bite, sleep briefly, and go back out again. Communications were re-established and he was sent to the Freen. It was the biggest, ugliest ship he ever saw even in comparison to the Flying Cylinders, the GPQs. He had instant affinity to the Freen, however. It was an iconoclast among its fellow Thuringi ships, and he respected it.

The damage repairs took five ginta of Thuringi time, which they automatically transferred to the Armada to use as a time reference. 'Evening', 'Night', 'Day' - they were all useless in space, but it made life seem less unpleasant to use a sliver of world-bound words to differentiate the passing of time.

Gareth was finally removed from repair duty after two grueling months. He went to his quarters where he bathed with warmed gel cleanser. He missed plain bath water, but on the Armada water was for drinking or for a waterman to soothe his parched skin. Showers were scheduled and brief and infrequent by necessity, depending entirely upon access to a planet with the proper chemistry in its ice or snow at the poles. Gel cleansers soothed the skin with extra moisturizers and were preferred after spacewalk repair work.

Gareth staggered into his bedroom, flopped face down on the bed, and slept for hours. When he awoke, he was acutely aware of his growling stomach. He dressed for the main dining hall. It was dinnertime for the shift, and he did not care which shift. He got a plate of food and a drink and sat down at a table.

"Are you supposed to be on duty?" asked someone.

"I have been," Gareth replied, without even a glance up. "Suffer my presence until I have eaten."

"I am sorry," said the man addressing him, Vicar Spence Beace of Fellensk. He sat across the table from Gareth. "You are one of our engineers, are you?"

"A mechanic, that is all I am, just a worker," Gareth replied in a weary monotone.

"Are you Duncan, by any chance?" the vicar asked. "Gareth Duncan?"

That caught Gareth's attention. Vicars were generally unaware of his name unless perhaps there was a list somewhere of Thuringi who did not make the time to attend religious services. Gareth was a firm believer in the God of All; he simply did not see the point to attend a holy roll call just to please the bishop.

"Yes, I am," Gareth said. "Why? Are you going to drag me into services as an example to other transgressors?"

"No, unless you think it would make an impact."

"It would not," Gareth assured him. "There are so many more practiced at transgressing than I."

"Do I know it!" Vicar Beace exclaimed, and Gareth cracked a smile. "No, actually I have something to give you someone else wanted you to have. If you will go ahead and eat, I will run and get it and give it to you before you leave." The vicar trotted out.

It is probably a book of prayers, Gareth thought wryly. The only time he ever attended services was for other people's weddings back when his mother forced him to go, and the string of family funerals he had to endure. This vicar, like others, would just waste his time if he tried to soften him up for a religious lecture. Gareth continued his meal. Behind him at another table, two people discussed a subject he did not want to hear.

"They had a nice ceremony. She looked so beautiful. The bodice of her gown was fitted and had a lovely, embroidered brocade. Of course, there were lovely icons on the skirt. He looked quite nice in his dress uniform."

"And where are they setting up quarters?"

"Oh, here. It was decided they should have the quarters on the Quantid. He is on the council of advisors now, and she is not about to go stay on the Ellis. No battleship bunk for Dame Hellick."

Gareth put down his utensils and shut his eyes. Dame Hellick. So, they were finally wed. Well, good for them. I am sure she will be happy on board the Quantid near the seat of power, he thought. A farmer's son no longer held her interest, and Tomas was a man destined for great things among the Thuringi people and needed her by his side. “Gareth, you are a nobody.” Her voice still echoed in his memory.

Maybe I can get a transfer away from the Quantid, Gareth thought dejectedly. I wonder if they need a toolman on the Steag Hallid.

"No matter how much you close your eyes and wish, it will not be anything but a plate of fried friaks, you know," Carrol's voice interrupted his thoughts. He glanced up and saw her smile.

The Armada could only offer artificial sunlight from the specialty ships and sunlight stations on the GPQs. Some of the Thuringi had to be reminded or even ordered to go to those ships for healthy exposure time. A few did not always go regularly, and some simply did not take to the artificial light. Carrol was one of the latter individuals, but the pale skin only served to make her breathtaking instead of merely beautiful. What an enjoyable sight, he thought. Carrol Shanaugh de Phillipi was just the person to provide an opportune distraction from his woes.

"Well, you never know; the power of suggestion is a power indeed," he told her, and extended his hand in invitation for her to join him. She sat down with her plate.

"I heard your work group is finally free from repair duty," she said. "You look exhausted, Gareth. Have you had any rest yet?"

"I just awoke from one of the longest sleeps I have ever had," he answered with a yawn. He picked up his utensil again and stabbed at his food. "It did no good. I had the strangest dream before I awoke." He ate without enthusiasm.

"What was it?" she asked as she ate heartily.

"Well," he said around a mouthful of food, and swallowed quickly, "it was odd. Everything was dark and I was out in space. But I did not have a pressure suit on; did not have anything useful on. I was just floating around, bumping into things."

"What things?"

"Ships. Asteroids. I could see inside the ships and sometimes I... this sounds foolish but... I tried to get inside people. I thought I could, but I was unable to."

"It sounds as if you spent a little too long out there on repairs."

"I think so too. Ah well, enough about me. What have you been up to, little girl?" She looked sharply at him then, her eyes widening. He shook his head slightly. "Was that too comfortable an address?" he asked.

"No," she said, as an echo of a sweet memory faded away. "I just have not enjoyed the company of a man who speaks as plainly as you in a very long time." She smiled and he knew it was all right.

"I understand folks have been celebrating," he said as he chased an uncooperative piece of friak around on his plate. He saw she did not follow his words, so he gave a slight indication with his head to the people behind him. "A wedding ceremony."

"Oh. Yes, Father and Mother attended it. They said it was very lovely and affecting. I almost went."

"You did?" Gareth asked, surprised. "Why?"

"To bring her a bouquet. I thought a charming collection of wrenches and spans and other mechanic's items would be a nice touch." She gave him a mischievous look.

"Behold, Darien Phillipi's sister," he marveled as a smile spread from ear to ear. "And you did not do this because…?"

"Father forbade me from going. He heard Darien and I caused some sort of ruckus in the Standard and the bride and groom were uncomfortable with us."

"You? You did nothing!" Gareth protested.

"Oh, the only one at that table who was not found at fault was Glendon Garin, who was on duty and had to be present." She chuckled. "It does not matter. I did not really want to see a wedding anyway." She became more somber. "I suppose I am not in the mood to see one just yet."

"I suppose not," Gareth answered.

Vicar Beace returned at that moment and handed Gareth a thick roll of drafting films. "Kevin Renaugh said you were interested in seeing these printed plans of the Freen," the vicar said. "I told him I would be glad to seek you out and give them to you, although discs are simpler to carry."

"I appreciate that; thank you, your... vicarage," Gareth managed to say. Carrol snickered and continued to eat her meal.

The vicar chuckled. "Ah, yes: Gareth Duncan! Now I recall why your name is so familiar." He moved on.

"Why?" Gareth called after him. The vicar just waved in farewell without bothering to look back. "Why does everyone laugh at me?" he demanded to know of Carrol. She stopped snickering as she realized he was serious.

"Vicarage is not the right title of address for him, Gareth; he obviously could tell you have not been to services lately."

"Only if commanded," Gareth responded. "But tell me this, Your Nibs. Why did you and your friends laugh at me in the Standard a few ginta ago? The day the solar flares began?"

"What? Oh that," she said in recall. "Because you silly man, we were comparing men to ships and someone said you had a nice rudder." She enjoyed the sudden flush of color to his face. "Then you said something about brandy keeping the rust off."

Gareth understood then and broke into a wide smile. He picked up his plate and his plan films. "Perhaps I am being particularly prickly right now," he admitted as they dropped their plates off at the proper receptacle and left the dining hall. "Brandy may very well be the only thing to keep my rudder from rusting."

"I do not think you need to worry about your rudder," she told him, and suddenly gasped and looked at him with her hand over her mouth.

"What is it?"

"I am beginning to sound like you and Darien and Brent!" she exclaimed. "You are all leading me to ruin!"

"Have a pleasant journey," he rejoined. "You are the one at the controls." He lifted his fist. "Try not to return to your prim and proper ways too soon, Your Nibs; you are one of the few people I know who does not take me to task for my conversation."

She also lifted her fist and they struck them together at the fleshy sides, the way Thuringi children and warriors did to seal an agreement or use as a passing greeting. They laughed and went their separate ways.

Not long after that, Carrol was on her way to the royal quarters from the hangers after duty hours on the medical ship. She turned a corner and literally ran into Lia Hellick de Neo. The newlywed staggered backwards and was caught by her husband.

“Oh my, I am so sorry!” Carrol exclaimed. “I paid no attention to where I am going. Are you all right?”

“Yes, it is all right,” Lia said agreeably, but Tomas Hellick frowned.

“She could have been injured,” he pointed out.

“I know; I am sorry,” Carrol repeated.

“No, no,” Lia protested. “I am just as much at fault. Here I am floating along blissfully with my husband without a thought of my surroundings. It is a wonder I have not knocked down everyone at every corner.”

“I quite understand,” Carrol said with a polite smile. “Congratulations to both of you.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Colonel Hellick said with a stiff bow.

Lia flushed red. Not only did she recognize Carrol the royal princess, but also as the woman with Gareth in the Standard booth the day Darien and Brent caused a ruckus.

Carrol assumed Lia’s distress was the realization that the couple pointedly asked she not be invited to the nuptials, so she attempted to put the new bride at ease. “Father told me what a lovely ceremony you had. I wish we could have provided a cathedral for you; perhaps when we reach Farcourt you can renew your vows in one.”

“That would be nice,” Lia said.

Carrol heard a horribly whistled tune coming from around the corner and knew from the sound it was her brother Darien. Darien loved to sing and whistle but unfortunately could not hold a tune with both hands and a vise. “Well, I suppose I should be on my way,” she said with hopes of steering Darien away from the couple, but she was too late. Darien rounded the corner, and the bright gleam of pernicious intent sprang into his eyes.

“Behold the happy couple! You are looking well, Colonel; Dame Hellick.”

“Thank you,” Tomas replied, not very enthusiastically.

“Such a smart man you are, so swift in getting your woman to the altar,” Darien continued, and Carrol wondered if she were to suddenly scream, it would distract Darien from anything dreadful he might say. Too late, he already spoke. “I know if I were the marrying kind, I would want to tie down a frisky little girl before she gets stolen away –

“I beg your pardon, sir!” Tomas Hellick said sharply.

“-again,” Darien finished pointedly. Carrol tried to push her brother on past the couple.

“Will you behave!” she hissed.

“Well, that frees up your friend Gareth to seek your hand, little sister,” Darien pointed out loudly, for the Hellicks’ benefit. The comment got a priceless reaction from Lia Hellick de Neo: her woebegone expression told him Gareth Duncan was still on her mind and in her heart. He decided to give his word dagger a further twist. “I hear some fair warrior maids toasted his nice rudder.” Darien nudged Carrol with his elbow. “Was that you?”

“I apologize for my brother,” Carrol said as she attempted to urge him along. Darien dug in his heels, which made it more difficult for her to not be obvious in her attempt to get him out of there.

“Any apology should come from him, Princess Carrol,” Tomas replied. “I do not appreciate such crude insulting remarks from anyone concerning my wife.”

“Apologize to them,” Carrol ordered Darien.

“Very well,” Darien said easily. “I am sorry you married her, Colonel Hellick.”

“That is not what I meant!” Carrol stepped hard on her brother’s foot.

“Oh. I apologize for impugning your wife’s reputation,” Darien said, not apologetic in the least. “I am certain I was wrong in my crass assumption.” He bowed went on down the hallway. Carrol smiled uneasily at the couple and opened her mouth about to speak when they heard Darien loudly add, “...All evidence to the contrary!”

“You see what I mean about the prince?” Tomas told his wife. “He believes he is above all rules of conduct.”

“I am sorry he was so rude,” Carrol said to them, “but he knows he is not above the rules. When I speak to Father –”

“As if that will do any good,” Tomas snapped. “Your brother has never shown any regard for others.”

“He was merely stating his opinion,” Carrol replied, and wondered why she was apologizing for Darien, anyway. “I do not know why you are getting so upset; Darien only called your dame ‘frisky’. I do not recall that as being a particularly bad thing.”

“I do not suppose you would,” Tomas said.

“Meaning?” Carrol asked sharply, as she heard the ‘you’ emphasized.

“You are his sister; naturally, you would stand up for him.” Tomas replied smoothly.

“I have repeatedly apologized for Darien and I have now reached my limit for something not my responsibility,” Carrol said tightly. “If you have an argument with Darien, go follow him and demand further satisfaction,” she invited. Tomas folded his arms across his chest and frowned at her.

Lia gave him a quizzical glance. “Tomas?”

Tomas snorted. “Why would you expect him to offer anything further than more insult?”

Around the corner this time charged Gareth Duncan, intent on reaching his destination with all due haste. He knew sooner or later he would come across Lia and Tomas, so he decided to ignore them both when he caught sight of Carrol.

“Where is Prince Stuart?” he asked without preamble. He breezed past the Hellicks without even a glance at them.

“I suppose he is with Father in the throne room,” Carrol replied. “Is something wrong?”

“No. He asked me to check his fighter for him and I wanted to tell him what I found,” Gareth told her. She admired his nonchalance and returned his carefree smile.

“And what did you find?” she asked.

“Well, I found a problem.” He pulled a cloth from his pocket and scrubbed his hands with it. “I do believe if you were to stuff a dozen lauren in the engine it would improve its flight capability immensely.”

“Really?” Carrol asked. “Why?” She meant, what was wrong with the engine.

“Because he only has ten stuffed in there, Your Nibs,” he said with a saucy grin, and dodged her swat at him. “There is a cross-wiring in there somewhere. It will have to be out of action for a while.”

“Well, come with me and we will look for him,” she offered.

“Am I interrupting anything?” he asked. He stood with his back to the Hellicks, so they could not see him cross his eyes at Carrol. She choked on a laugh as she took his arm and guided him down the hallway.

“No, I believe your timing is excellent,” she told him. “Come along now; move your rudder.” He turned his head to look her directly in the eye and then winked at her.

“You certainly seem to be fond of rudders,” he observed.

“Just yours,” she responded automatically. She did not intend to say the comeback aloud, and Carrol’s mouth dropped open. She popped it closed again and flushed with embarrassment. “That did not come out right! I am not a natural jokester, like Darien. I did not mean to be rude or, or, familiar, major.”

"Quite all right," he said easily. "It has been a long time since anyone noticed my rudder." Carroll stole a glance back toward the Hellicks.

Lia watched Gareth leave with a particularly longing quality to her expression. Tomas already turned to go and jerked his wife’s arm sharply. "Lia! Come on." She snapped out of her reverie and joined him as she smiled prettily.

Carrol and Gareth walked together quietly, until Gareth let out a small chuckle. Carrol snickered, and they both dissolved into laughter. "Thank you so much, Your Nibs," he said at length. "I do not feel quite so passed up."

"She still cares for you," Carrol told him. "I could see it in her eyes."

"She is Dame Hellick now. Chapter closed and I am quite at ease. Let us find the Crown Nibs and tell him his ship fell apart before my very eyes. Get his reaction before I tell him the truth."

"Which is what?"

"Which is, I can either re-wire it the way it is supposed to be and all will be well, or I can re-work it and watch it shoot among the stars like a meteor."

"Well, of course he will go for the re-working! I know I would."

Gareth chuckled again. "Somehow I figured you would.”

"What does that mean?"

"You do not seem like the sort who prefers complacency, Your Nibs. I would wager you prefer the odd design of the Freen or the GPQs, rather than the more sedentary Daven Bau. Am I correct?"

She issued a startled sound and her eyes danced with amusement. "How absolutely true! I do prefer them. I find their originality appealing."

"Ha! I ought to provide you with hours of diversion," Gareth snorted. She laughed, a lighthearted laugh she never thought she would hear herself make again.

To Glendon’s dismay he was assigned the task of training the new cadets in consue, or infantry hand-to-hand combat. This was not ordinarily a bad thing; the seasoned warriors enjoyed passing on their knowledge to the next generation. Glendon had a turn before and enjoyed it thoroughly, but his time one of the cadets was his daughter Echo. He was uncertain he could be fair in her training. He was unconcerned he might be too easy on her; on the contrary, he was afraid of being too hard on her.

Echo was a hearty child from the moment of her uproarious cry at birth. If Glendon hoped for a son before her birth, it did not matter after she was born. He and Janis raised her properly as any young lady of Thuringa. She was well-mannered, well groomed, and keen about maintaining her femininity. She could make a tasty brew of lina tea and make charming small talk, but she could also outrun, outfight, and outdo many boys in her class.

Glendon taught her holds and throws and strategy ever since she was a little girl. There was never a moment when he wished for a son instead. He was exacting, however. He pushed Echo harder than other fathers encouraged their sons precisely because she was not a male and needed to counter musculature advantage. Other Naradi fathers were that way with their daughters. It did not diminish their allure and it safeguarded them against unwelcome advances. The Garin clan had an additional unwritten ethic which demanded the absolute best possible at every level of service.

Every Thuringi took consue training. It was not a matter for debate; it was simply an assurance every Thuringi had a rudimentary understanding of defense and handling weaponry. Those who chose to make military service their career continued their training, and those who chose the civilian way of life only took the consue training. Gender was not an issue, either: Thuringi women made fierce, determined warriors and their men honored them for their fighting skills. Cadet training for the past five years was sporadic due to the war with the Shargassi, and thirteen-to-eighteen-year-olds were to be crowded together into these newest sessions.

At thirteen, Echo was long of limb and quick in action. In her childhood it was always Echo the first up a tree, the most reluctant to come in from playing at twilight and usually the last one standing after a game of Trip-Your-Brother. The game required children to square off against each other on a plank over a small brook or a shoreline. The object was to trip or knock each other off into the water with the sturdy poles they held in their hands.

Owing to her childhood skills, Echo quickly became a favorite among the rambunctious and athletically inclined Thuringi youth in the capital city of Arne, and with two boys in particular. Triton Ardenne and Erich Phillipi, cousins with identical tastes, liked her fearlessness and camaraderie. Triton was Brent Ardenne’s son, a full Aquatic who was more active on land than his kinsmen. Erich was big and strapping like his father Stuart, full of adventure and imagination. The three were great friends always ready for mischief and eager to get into a quasch, a particularly rugged sort of wrestling match Thuringi enjoyed.

At the appointed hour of their first scheduled consue training, the three friends stood to one side of the practice room of the Quantid in a private debate between themselves. Who among their training mates would most likely stay in the military? Who would choose to be a civvie? The other cadets held the same debate among themselves.

For Erich, there was no choice. Everyone knew the foregone conclusion that the future crown prince, the future king of Thuringa, was required to stay in the military. Outwardly Erich wore his fate casually. Inside, there were days when the young prince wished he could simply be a scholar and linguist like his mother.

As they milled around impatiently for Glendon to arrive, there was a stir at the door. The three friends wandered over to see what caused the excitement. A girl in the center of the commotion did not wear the baggy but comfortable cadet’s training suit. Instead, this damsel wore a flowing sheath of shimmering fabric that accented her blossoming figure and highlighted her delicate bone structure. She chatted gaily with the boys in the room, unmindful of growing resentment among her female peers.

“Whew! Who is that?” Erich asked breathlessly.

“I do not know,” Triton stammered beside him. “But I think I will go find out.”

“I will go with you,” Erich agreed. The two walked to the girl in the off-duty dress as if in a trance, leaving Echo alone and bewildered.

“It is just Lyra Medina,” Echo exclaimed when she finally recognized her. She noted the girl was happy to bask in the attention of the future prince and his nice-looking friend. “Lyra, why are you not dressed out for consue?” Echo asked, astonished anyone would come to consue training not attired in a consue wardrobe.

“Oh, I have no uniform,” Lyra explained. “The one I was given did not fit me.” She smoothed the front of her clothes as she added, “It was so terribly baggy, you know.” Her tiny little hands followed the fit of her dress, running down over her already developed breasts, along her ribcage to her tiny waist and rest on her appealing thighs. She smiled prettily and every male in the room made a rumbling noise of delight in his teenage throat.

“It is supposed to be baggy,” Echo pointed out, astonished at this girl’s brazen attitude.

“Oh,” was the coquettish reply, with roving eyes on the boys, “I did not know.”

No female cadet believed this for a minute, but the males were all willing to suspend their disbelief.

Glendon entered the room and barked out a call to attention. All the cadets snapped to leap into two lines twenty lengths apart, facing each other. Glendon walked between the lines and was halfway into his opening spiel when he stopped abruptly. He turned and looked directly at Lyra Medina. She smiled brightly. Her form in standing at attention was impeccable, shoulders back and arms loose at her sides, head up and chest out. Glendon strolled wordlessly until he was squarely in front of her, his hands on his hips.

For a moment he regarded her and then he did a slow casual revolution, as if to ponder what to say. What he was actually did was check the physical responses of the young men in the room. As he figured, all were at attention both in posture and in the front of their pants. He completed his turn and brought his attention back to Lyra.

“Get out of here and into a uniform right now!” Glendon roared. Lyra jumped and squeaked in startled dismay as he continued his tirade. “How dare you begin our first consue session in such unseemly dress? There will never; I repeat, never, be another incident like this again!” Glendon’s voice boomed in the quiet room. “I do not care whether you intend of become a part of the Thuringi Air Command or a part of our civilian society but you will, by all that is holy to you, take your training seriously and responsibly. You will have time enough to pursue potential mates in the future, but it will not begin now! Go get on your consue uniform, cadet!” He stormed after her as she fled the room. When the door closed behind her, he whirled to face his cadets, who all snapped back to attention sharply.

He stood in the center of the cadets, and waited. He glared at his charges as if daring them to move beyond taking a breath and forced the cadets to remain at attention. Five minutes passed. Ten. Finally, the door opened, and Lyra crept back in, attired in the previously too-baggy training suit. Glendon snapped his fingers and pointed, and she hurried to stand where he indicated. “Brigadier General Medina and I will discuss with you after this class session is over, just precisely what you will do and what you will not do in the coming sessions,” Glendon told her tersely. “Do not add to the list.” With that, he put the cadets through warm-up drills.

By the end of the session, none of the cadets had anything more on their minds than a shower and a long, hard-earned round of sleep. Their training suits were soaked with sweat, their arms and legs too heavy to easily lift. They dragged back to the shuttle transports for their respective quarters.

“I cannot believe he is your father,” one cadet moaned to Echo. “I wonder how you survived your youth.”

“I have not made it yet,” Echo groaned. “I am only thirteen.”

“Nice knowing you,” the cadet sighed as he dragged into his transport. “You probably will not make it to fourteen.”

Echo stretched out on her bed in her sleep attire after her bath, hardly able to move her weary body, too tired to even close the bedroom door. She heard her father enter through the front door and the soft, almost inaudible kiss of greeting between her parents.

“How is Echo?” he asked Janis.

“She is exhausted. I believe you have finally succeeded in slowing her down,” Janis laughed softly. “How did she do?”

“Very well,” he replied as he sat down to remove his boots. “I doubt she will have any problem keeping up, even with the older ones.”

“Then may I ask why it is you look so cross?”

“I have just spent the past hour with Hartin Medina and his daughter Lyra,” Glendon said grimly, “and it was not a pleasant experience for any of us.” Echo’s ears pricked up at this. Fortunately, it involved no physical action on her part.

“What happened?” Janis asked. “Hurry, I am next on patrol and my shift starts soon.”

“Lyra Medina had the audacity to wear some tight-fitting outfit to the first session. All the young men were practically bursting out of their trousers over her and the young women were jealous beyond words.”

“Whatever was she thinking?”

“She was thinking she is sixteen and wanting attention. Well, she certainly got it today. I never saw anything so brazen in my life. It... it is as if Brent Ardenne climbed inside that Medina child’s head and directed her thoughts.” Echo could tell by the sound of her father’s voice there was a sardonic grin on his face. “But if I disapproved her actions, I thought Hartin was going to take her apart with his bare hands. I almost felt sorry for the girl. Almost.”

“I never heard of such a thing,” Janis mused. “Did he strike her?”

“Oh no; of course not! But I do not know if she might have preferred that to the scolding he gave her.”

“I cannot believe she is Melina Medina’s daughter,” Janis chuckled. “I suppose being from a noble family does not guarantee good judgment and taste in every member.”

“This is going to be a horrible assignment,” Glendon sighed. “I just hope my own daughter conducts herself with more dignity as she grows up.”

“Give her a ship to pilot and a pistol to grip,” Janis assured him. “That will give her the respect she needs. She has enough in looks to garner the attention all girls want.”

“Well, I think so too, as long as it does not go to her head. Where is she?”

“She is asleep in her room,” Janis replied. Echo quickly closed her eyes. She could hear her father’s careful footsteps approach her door and stop.

“Look at her,” Echo heard her father whisper to her mother. “Lyra Medina could only hope to measure up to our fair Echo.”

“Spoken like a true proud father. Are you certain you are a Garin?” Janis whispered back as she closed the door.

In the dark solitude of her room, Echo smiled. Her father Glendon was the only Garin in the entire clan who openly complimented his child. Garins expected their kindred to make achievements with honor and preferred to have any compliments come to them from outside their family. Coming from a parent, a compliment would be considered bragging and therefore discounted as pride.

Several branches of the Garins did not even praise their children in private, and one of those was Glendon’s line. Glendon praised Echo anyway for he never liked such reverse pretension. It was not the first instance of going against the grain of his family and it would likely not be the last.

The next session was just as arduous as the first except the cadets used poles in a very intense, very precisely executed form of Trip-Your-Brother. Darien Phillipi came to spar with Glendon as a demonstration and stayed to work with the cadets. Darien had his turn training cadets before and was not impressed by this lot. Children irritated him. The fact these people were barely out of childhood and deep in the throes of adolescence made his irritation worse. If they learned anything at all in childhood school, it was crammed out of their minds when their hormones took over before reason or resistance to temptation tempered it.

Despite the notoriety her first appearance granted her, Lyra was once again the center of attention. Her ineptitude with the sticks might have been dismissed as flirtation except she was honestly unable to fight well, even against younger classmates. Nevertheless, both Triton and Erich were drawn to her curvaceous sides, willing to help tutor her until Darien came along and dismissed them with a wave.

Darien took a stick and smacked at hers sharply, from side to side. “Strike back,” he ordered. She slapped at him futilely. “Strike harder,” he insisted. Before long she at least held her own against him. When he finally lowered his stick, she smiled at him with a tilt of her head.

“Did I do all right?” she asked.

“No,” Darien said bluntly. “But at least you might stand a chance at not getting killed right away in a surprise attack.” He walked away toward the center of the room to address the youthful crowd. They all fell quiet to listen.

"The time for playful Trip-Your-Brother is no more, children. It is time to think like a warrior. Those whom we fight will not politely wait for you to rise to your feet and prepare for another sparring. They will attack viciously with the sole intent to rob you of breath and life. I do not say these things to merely give you cold flesh and nightmares. I say it in the hope you will remember it, for one day it could save your life. Fighting is not a glorious deed. It is ugly and dirty, and hand-to-hand combat is the ugliest. You never know when you may need the knowledge. Remember, Maranta Shanaugh was our greatest warrior yet we lost him to a few simple arrows during a ground battle. This is the time to learn how to stay alive."

Erich felt cold shivers run the length of his spine. Until Uncle Darien spoke, fighting was the stuff of claims of the 'I bested you on the bridge three times' variety. Being knocked off a log into a cold stream was nothing, Erich realized. He did not want to die. He did not want to suffer. He did not even like to sweat during a Kellis game. The one time he accidentally cut his finger on a knife in the kitchen he nearly passed out from the pain. He could not imagine what a sword into his side might feel like, or... or an arrow in the collarbone full of burning poison that kept a man in agony for days before succumbing to merciful death.

He took a firmer grip on the handle of his consue weapon. He must not fail consue. To do so would be to resign himself to the humiliation as the only Phillipi who feared to fight, or to a cruel death some day. A Phillipi prince must act as a prince but in Erich’s mind, better that death was left to some common soldier.

As the session progressed, elimination rounds shaped up. Not surprisingly, Lyra Medina was eliminated early. In the end, three eighteen-year-olds, one seventeen-year-old and one sixteen-year-old were left in the final three rounds. The last contestant was a slender thirteen-year-old female cadet. Echo won her round against an eighteen-year-old opponent and earned a grin of respect from him. She was ousted in the next round but coming in fifth from a cadet class of forty was remarkable for someone her age. Erich and Triton were pleased for their childhood playmate. They did not pass the halfway mark in the muster.

Darien appraised Glendon’s daughter with a watchful eye. The child had talent; that much was obvious. Maranta would have been pleased by her abilities, so early evident. She turned her face Darien's way to chat with a companion, and his smile grew. This one was going to be a pleasure to the eyes in the future. Darien Phillipi, always on the lookout for attractive females, made a mental note to remember this one. Hmm. What was her name? Echo Garin - oh. Glendon’s daughter. Well, Darien thought, perhaps a pleasure to the eyes was all this girl was to be for him. Damn! He was not about to be another Maranta Shanaugh to Echo's Carrol. He turned back to the training.

The royal quarters seemed spacious to Lycasis and Oriel until all three of their children, their daughter-in-law and grandson came to visit after attending services to observe the Thuringi holiday of Bauni, or Remembrance Day. In the Throne Room before a large crowd, Bishop Trapis led the prayer of thanksgiving and conducted the ritual in which prayers were said for loved ones who had passed on and traveled the Path of All. All over the fleet such services were led by bishops and vicars alike, and many more would take place until everyone had a chance to attend. It was a solemn occasion and had been ever since the Armada left Thuringa. There was simply so much loss to recall.

But this occasion was different for the mystical Oriel; something was amiss, and she needed to figure it out. In the royal quarters after services, Darien was deep in riotous discussion with Lycasis about some wild tale he heard in a cantina and he amused his father with his storytelling skills. Carrol looked through computer files in search of something in particular she wanted to show to a friend. Erich amused himself with a puzzle Darien gave him, a set of conjoined metal rings to be manipulated a certain way before they could be split into separate rings.

It was Stuart and Aura that troubled Oriel. Oriel was never able to get to know Aura very well before the Armada took flight, chiefly because their tasks seldom gave them the opportunity to do so. Aura did not often venture into the Majestic wing of Grace Castle, preferring to stay in the wing for the Crown Prince’s family. Stuart always spoke well of his married life on Thuringa, but now that they were in much closer quarters, Oriel saw the young couple’s relationship and realized he had fooled her completely.

Stuart was strained and anxious much of the time but that was understandable for the heir of the beleaguered Thuringi throne. Aura’s unhappiness caught Oriel’s attention, but she could not figure it out until she saw the princess glance at her brother-in-law. Instead of the annoyance Aura always claimed she felt toward him, Oriel’s mystical heart caught the distinct sense of longing –

With a gasp, the queen clutched at the hollow of her throat. Lycasis immediately hurried to her side. “Oriel, what is it? Are you in pain, dear one?”

Aura’s sense of longing was snapped shut, hidden again behind her steely determination to…to what? Oriel could not tell. It had been years since she studied mystical ways under the Hunda gao, the teachers of their weirdly ways. She needed to return to those studies, Oriel realized. Perhaps she was mistaken; perhaps Aura’s longing was simply for a return to a happier way of life, and Darien’s story reminded her of something she missed from Thuringa. This was possible…but in her heart Oriel doubted it.

“No; only a tiny spasm,” Oriel assured Lycasis.

She had accepted Aura into the family for many reasons. Aura was the dignified and ladylike daughter of Searl and Ellis Ardenne, both good friends of Oriel and Lycasis. Their son Brent was like another son to her due to his friendship with the princely twins, and such a good-hearted family was bound to include a good-hearted daughter. Stuart chose Aura as his wife willingly once he got over the disappointment of not being allowed to pursue a woman he loved deeply, and Oriel sensed his love for Aura was genuine.

Yet after all these years, Oriel Phillipi de Saulin knew less about her daughter-in-law than she did her Naradi Famede Thurman Garin, which was not very much. She now saw Aura’s chilly attitude in private as well as the public cool on display, and how often the young woman showed displeasure at her husband’s occasional exuberances.

Oriel tutored Erich daily for an hour once he reached education age. He always behaved so well, a darling smaller version of Aura and Stuart at their best, but it was only for an hour. Aura had prettily cajoled the royal family to allow Erich to attend school with other children in the Armada rather than tire Oriel with private tutoring. She promised to keep an eye on his progress and pull him from the classroom the minute she heard ill of him. The king and queen heard nothing but good reports from his public-school teachers. Erich was the first prince to have a public education and they had worried about breaking tradition, but Aura was such a proper young woman, such a seemly and ideally behaved Thuringi, it was impossible to think the son of such an able educator could go astray!

Lycasis was busy with the fleet from his first waking moment to his last conscious moment before slumber, but Oriel could see facts up close on board the Quantid. She was horrified to see how haughtily Erich actually behaved in school, how he tended to backtalk and then use his charm to wriggle out of disapproval. She suspected Darien prompted him and she confronted her son one day.

“Mother, please! Aura has never allowed me around that boy if she could help it. Oh, I tried to play with him when he was a tad and so did Carrol, but that snotty little wife of Stuart’s acted as if we were not good enough for the boy. We finally gave up and now perhaps you see what I tried to warn you about all this time. Aura may know every language of the Stellar Council but the only thing she knows in Thuringi is scold others and spoil Erich.”

“You have never gotten along with Aura, have you?”

“Ha! I like to drink and laugh and create harmless mischief alongside her brother Brent, and that is damning in the eyes of the cold cruel Princess I-Am-So-Rare, Mother. Sometimes I think poor Stuart does not even get along with her.”

“You do?”

“Oh, but his sunny nature will not allow him to see anything but wonder in people! Mother, I do wish you all had listened to me when I told you: Stuart married the wrong woman. He should have married Keleigh Shanaugh; anyone other than that heartless creature Aura.”

Lycasis always thought Darien did not like Aura because he was naturally contrary and a rascal, but if any of the Phillipi knew the Ardenne family siblings it was Darien. This would not do; Oriel needed to learn more about the young woman her son had married in order to answer the nagging questions that now resided in her heart. Somehow the physically weakened queen had to find a way to get around in order to find out without causing her already burdened husband more worry.

In the struggle of the last few days of Thuringa, many heroic measures were performed. During the firestorm that engulfed the Fellensk area, a firefighting company was caught by a fast-moving wind that swept the flames over the treetops. Most died while others lived but suffered terrible burns. One of the survivors was Tennick Pate, a firefighter by gifted task. He suffered burns over eighty percent of his body and never left the Daven Bau. His loyal wife was Orchis Pate de Mennar, the sister of malcontent Asa Mennar. Asa did everything he could pharmaceutically to ease Tennick's pain for the sake of his beloved sister.

The two men did not always see eye to eye. They especially clashed over the subject of the Royal Family. Tennick was loyal to the crown while Asa was a vocal malcontent, and their views did not change over the years. Asa tried to blame the Phillipis somehow as being responsible for Tennick's injuries. Tennick was appalled his brother-in-law tried to use his situation as ammunition against his king and royal family members.

Orchis's loyalties were tested. Having lost their only child in war, Tennick was her whole world and they had looked forward to starting over again on Farcourt. With Tennick under constant sedation to ease his pain, Orchis increasingly leaned on Asa for guidance and on his family for emotional support. She got along with her sister-in-law Meeka Mennar, but they ran in different social circles. Meeka did not have the kind of notable Elder acquaintances Orchis had nor did she want them; Meeka thought Elders spent far too much time watching others instead of minding their own business. Orchis thought Meeka's friends were hypocrites or they would not consider themselves Nobles.

Despite these things, everyone wanted the best for Tennick. Although Asa's medical license had been suspended by earlier misbehavior, his technical skills and expertise were needed in this crisis as a pharmacist. He kept Tennick alive and as pain-free as possible but the former fireman's lungs were scorched. Not even Princess Carrol could heal him. During a lucid period, Tennick refused her treatment because he did not want to visit such pain on her. Carrol could not use pain medicine when she utilized her Arda gift of healing and Tennick would not allow his royal healer to suffer for his sake.

While Asa admired such bravery and self-sacrifice on Tennick's part, he resented what he did not understand. There was no medical explanation for the existence of Arda liquid's power or for the ability only the Phillipi family controlled over it. Asa's pre-exodus attempts to replicate Arda liquid for his own purposes was a dangerous secret he kept hidden even from Orchis and Meeka. He had to destroy the research left behind on Thuringa for fear its unstable replication would be used against the Thuringi. All he had left were his notes, saved on a disc he kept in a desk in his quarters.

Tennick Pate de Bau finally passed away after a long hard struggle, leaving a grief-stricken Orchis as his widow. She kept to herself for quite a while and finally emerged a changed woman. Tennick's suffering and death soured her outlook as she fell into a state of self-pity. Why did this have to happen; we planned to have another child, a late child; life is not fair!

Asa took full advantage of her fragile state of mind and started a whisper campaign to her against the Royal Family in earnest. He knew Carrol's healing ability could not bring anyone back to life and that her gifts could only do so much for Tennick's scorched lungs even if she had attempted it. Still, Asa intimated the Royal Family only helped certain people, people who were loyal to them or people who were personal friends. Orchis now carried that notion in the back of her mind. Her mourning and frustration made her judgments sharp and shrill, the sort of Elder many a youth dreaded.

Aura objected with the usual arguments when the subject of Erich’s removal from public school was brought up at a family dinner one evening in the royal quarters, but Oriel was ready for her. “It will be no trouble for me at all! He is right down the hall from me now and it is a part of every queen’s duty to instruct the royal offspring.”

“But he is doing so well in school and it will take from your day, Mother Oriel.”

“I insist.” The steel in her otherwise gentle voice made the entire family stop and look at her in surprise. For the first time Aura had an opponent she could not easily sidestep.

“But he is doing so well!”

“Are you suggesting I am incompetent at tutoring royal children?”

The very adversarial tone from her usually pliable mother-in-law rattled Aura into a stammer. “No, of course not! I only mean that you should not have to trouble yourself with his education! Erich is put through his paces very firmly at the poddack and he has the red-marked test screens to prove it.”

Oriel placed her napkin beside her plate and firmly held her hands together in her lap. It would not do to act unreasonably over the matter.

“I have no interest in teaching him ordinary subjects; as a trained teacher that should have been your task all along.” The reprimand stung Aura, delighted Darien and startled the others at the table. “I speak of the education of a crown prince of Thuringa, Aura. He has a lifetime of learning ahead of him and he can always pick up a book and research mere schoolwork. But he needs to learn how to behave like a royal prince now, how to properly behave and not the way I have seen him of late.”

She turned to Erich, who sat round-eyed with astonishment. “You were abominable today young man, and I was quick to notice that since your parents were not on hand to correct you, you took full advantage of it! The way you spoke down to your peers and the casual way you spoke to your instructors was as unseemly as I have ever witnessed. Why, I never even saw Darien behave that way when he was your age, and that tells a poor tale on the behavior of the son of Crown Prince Stuart.”

Aura flinched.

“When was this, Grandmother?” Erich asked, hoping to create a plausible excuse.

“The fact that it happened at all is enough to befoul the dignity of the Phillipi.” This was not from Oriel, this was Lycasis’s statement, and the firm set to his jaw told Aura and Erich the king was completely in the queen’s corner on the matter. “You may finish out your current year at poddack and you had best behave well and give your peers and your instructors good memories of you, because you will not return for the next grade. No,” he said at Aura’s attempt to object. “Moreover, he will come to our chambers tomorrow and his lessons with his grandmother will increase in hours as she sees fit. I have given you the opportunity to do something no other prince got to enjoy, Erich, and you have squandered it. Your behavior was supposed to be exemplary, and I have always been assured that public school would make a better prince of you, but I see no improvement. We will see if the queen can solve the problem.”

Aura’s Ardenne temper worked against her and she popped out a caustic comment before she could stop herself: “… It worked so well with Darien!”

The gasp in the room warned what was to come since that gasp came from all three Phillipi siblings. Lycasis drummed his fingers on the table and glared at his daughter-in-law in disapproval for the first time in her married life.

“And it worked well for your husband Stuart too, young lady, as did it work for Princess Carrol! How dare you speak against the queen’s teaching methods when you obviously chose to shirk the responsibility yourself!” His voice thundered in the silent room. “Darien may be a smart mouth and a royal pain in the neck, but he would never, never think to insult the Queen of Thuringa! Now I could snatch the boy out of his poddack today if I so please, but for the sake of his social friendships I will consider a grace period and it is only due to consideration for his feelings and not for his upstart mother!”

Darien was too terrified to react with pleasure as he might have at the upbraid. As much as he disliked Aura, he almost felt sorry for her at the moment. Carrol quickly wiped her mouth with a napkin to prevent a smile of relief from showing. She knew of Erich's bad behavior and had been alarmed over it. Stuart sat with his head bowed, as if he expected a dressing down for himself next. He was right.

“Stuart, I will not have the future of Thuringa endangered by this social experiment any longer. I expect you to tutor the boy as well, and I want to see a firmer hand with him in the future.”

A protest died in Stuart’s throat, but it was plain that he wanted to speak up. He glared at his wife momentarily as he pursed his lips. He then looked at his son with narrowed eyes and pursed lips curled up into a foreboding smile. “Yes, Father,” he agreed with delicious anticipation.

Lycasis noted the tone and the glare and realized he had erred in his assumption that it was a team effort that failed the boy. “Well, do not beat him to pieces; he is your heir, after all,” the king said in afterthought.

“Yes, and one may be all I have,” Stuart said with an odd sort of emphasis that made Aura shift uncomfortably in her chair.

“Will you teach me advanced sciences and such?” Erich asked in an effort to show his honest interest in education. “Or will the Warrior Prince do so? I mean since we no longer have a Warrior General.”

“I suppose I could,” Darien mused.

“I hardly see how allowing you access to him will stem the tide of his impertinence any,” Aura said sharply.

“On the contrary, I will knock some of that attitude out of him since I can recognize it so easily!”

“I will speak to Master Tulin at the Academy,” Stuart said firmly. “Due to the absence of a Warrior General and Darien’s abysmal scores in Academy, perhaps tutoring in the upper sciences from an Academy master might be useful.”

“Then I will speak to Master Tulin,” Aura replied.

“You have done quite enough; it is my turn. I am his father, you know.”

Oriel detected a strange silence from within her mind. < >! She knew it was Maranta, wanting to say something but unable to communicate. “Stuart should make the arrangements,” she said. “It is the best we can make of the situation, and we can all be sure that Master Tulin will give him the best possible instruction available. Aura can continue her task and check his progress at her pleasure.” She was uncertain if that was what Maranta wanted to say or not.

Aura took care not to sulk. The more she thought about it, the more her spirits brightened. She wanted Erich to have Academy training, but he was too young to attend. She was reluctant to suggest early attendance for fear it would mean taking a royal privilege out of turn. Now with the approval of the Crown, he would be able to go as far and as fast as he desired. Erich’s keen mind would only benefit from it. She nodded willingly and smiled with relief.

“Well, grand!” Erich groaned. “I may not have Mother breathing down my neck nor will I have Father growling at my shoulder, it is true; but oh if I ever survive those dreadful old bones at the Academy, it will be a miracle!”

The outburst made the entire family break into laughter, and the tension was broken.