The War Ubatha’s thoughts were interrupted as a priest held the ceremonial spear of truth aloft, a tongue of fire shot up from deep inside the hill, and the casket was consumed in a ball of fire. Flames crackled, and gray smoke poured up into the sky, where, much to the satisfaction of the mourners, it was blown to the west. Thereby ensuring the Queen’s speedy passage into the afterlife. Or the Skrum’s afterlife, the War Ubatha thought to himself, as the Ramanthian people waited for the ceremony to end. The War Ubatha had killed her himself to make sure the job was carried out properly. Not a pleasant chore but a necessary one. Such was the life of a warrior.
THE PLACE WHERE THE QUEEN DWELLS
The royal eggery was empty and had been for many months, ever since the great mother’s inevitable death and the Warrior Queen’s ascension to the throne. But as the War Ubatha entered the royal residence and submitted himself to a biometric scan, he could smell the lingering egg odor. It was a reminder of the fact that billions of recently hatched Ramanthians were depending on him to do the right thing for them and the rest of the empire. No matter how difficult that might be.
The thought served to reinforce his sense of resolve as he shuffled up a series of ramps to the ornate platform where the grotesquely swollen great mother had been confined during the last months of her life. It was empty, and would remain so until another three hundred years had passed and another Queen was required to make the ultimate sacrifice.
A liveried functionary was waiting for him there and led the officer through an arched entryway into the private chambers beyond. It was there, within the royal reception hall, that the council of advisors was waiting for him. They were more than that, of course; because for all practical purposes, they were in control of the government. Not publicly. That would have to wait until their Queen officially named them to the posts they had chosen for themselves.
But thanks to the positions they had held during the great mother’s reign, and the networks of cronies created then, the advisors were very much in control. It was a good thing, too. Because, unbeknownst to the average citizen, the empire was in grave danger, and urgent action was required to save it.
As the War Ubatha entered the reception hall, he saw that a curtained enclosure had been put in place on the raised platform normally occupied by the Queen’s throne. That meant the Queen was seated within and would be able to hear the ensuing discussion. Not for the purpose of ruling, which the council would do on her behalf, but in order to play the part of figurehead with skill and grace. The draped cloister was a pretence, a way to have the royal-in-waiting present without having to defer to her.
Most of the council members were already present. That included Su Ixba, the onetime head of the Department of Criminal Prosecution. He was already hard at work vetting candidates for hundreds of important positions and identifying potential loyalists, who would soon find themselves living on remote nursery planets.
Ixba was seated next to Cam Taas, who had been in charge of the Department of Transportation until the Warrior Queen let him go. Though hidebound and averse to anything new, he was very dependable. And given the challenges before them, that was a valuable quality.
Also present were Admirals Tu Stik and Zo Nelo plus General Ma Amm. All were students of the third-century mystic warrior Haru Nira. There were greetings and formal bows all around. Then, as if determined to make an entrance, ex-Governor Oma Parth shuffled into the room. Though old enough to have age spots on his chitin, his movements were precise, and he exuded energy. Space black eyes darted from person to person. “You’re all here… Excellent. We’ll hear from Commander Ubatha first. His report will be followed by a strategic review. It’s important to make sure all of us understand the current situation.” Ubatha suspected the last was a reference to the queen-in-waiting.
“Please,” Parth continued. “Take your seats. Commander Ubatha?”
Ubatha chose to remain standing as the others sat on matching saddle chairs. There was a skylight overhead, and sunshine pooled on flagstones worn smooth by thousands of shuffling feet. In keeping with his reputation for unflinching directness, the War Ubatha made no attempt to soften his report. “I am sorry to report that my mission to the hive world Bounty was a failure. As you know, the Warrior Queen was, or is, extremely popular there. So there was a distinct possibility that, having learned of our plan, Chancellor Ubatha might have taken the Queen to the planet. But such is not the case. Thanks to Su Ixba’s intervention, members of the local police were very cooperative-and made use of their resources to scour the entire planet. A large cell of denialists was identified and dismantled. But there was no sign that they were hiding anyone.”
All of the council members were aware that there were thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands, of citizens so devoted to the Warrior Queen that they refused to believe that she was dead. Such individuals were generally referred to as denialists. Ixba clacked a pincer approvingly. “Well done.”
“Thank you,” Parth said, as he came to his feet. “I know I speak for the entire council when I say that Commander Ubatha’s mission shouldn’t be considered a complete failure. At least we know of one place where the Warrior Queen isn’t hiding. We will return to that very important subject later on. In the meantime, let’s review the strategic situation, which, in spite of numerous military victories, can only be described as poor.
“I suggest that we begin with a discussion of planet Earth. Truth be told, there were some things the Warrior Queen did right. One of them was to invade Earth’s solar system, destroy the fleet positioned to protect it, and attack the planet itself. But then, rather than glass the pus ball, she made the decision to occupy it. That was worse than wrong-it was stupid. And I can prove it.”
Those were strong words to direct against a monarch, even a failed one, and the War Ubatha wondered what the queen-to-be was thinking. But there was no way to know as Stik, Nello, and Amm all clacked their pincers in agreement.
“First,” Parth continued, “by occupying Earth, we are tying up twenty divisions desperately needed elsewhere. Because, while our troops chase resistance fighters around the surface of the planet, there’s evidence that the Confederacy is starting to target our nursery planets. Some of which are quite vulnerable. And that isn’t all. In addition to the soldiers killed in action on Earth, we’re losing personnel to some sort of disease. General Amm… What can you tell us about that?”
Insofar as Ubatha knew, Amm had never fired a shot in anger but had risen through the officer ranks by virtue of his administrative abilities and cold-blooded willingness to do whatever was necessary. A philosophy that was apparent in the way he answered the question. “We are investigating the nature of the problem, sir,” Amm replied. “In the meantime, rather than run the risk of infecting additional personnel, or allowing the pathogen to reach other Ramanthian planets, a quarantine is in place. No additional troops will be sent to Earth-and no troops will be allowed to depart until this matter has been resolved.”
“That’s unfortunate,” Parth said, “but it can’t be avoided. Please let me know the moment more information becomes available.”