Home ships occupied the center of the fleet, our great warships in a protective formation. Deep in the belly of the armada sat the Seed Ship with the King at the controls. I awaited the command as did every pilot of every ship in my fleet. We were poised, each of us, with a finger just above the pad. We were thousands, our minds set on a single task. The call came.

“Jump,” said the GM, and fingers landed.

A massive armada jumped. We felt nothing. It was as if nothing at all had occurred, but we were in a new place. Suddenly, the stars around us changed. I looked forward. I looked past a sea of dark ships. I looked into the black distance, and there, beyond the reflected light of suns illuminating vessels of myriad shapes, I saw it. I saw a smudge of color, a thin wisp that was our target galaxy.

The voice of General Taush came through my console. “I have given the command, Your majesty.”

That command was in response to my father’s warning. “Prepare for war.” I saw military vessels turning, adjusting their positions. I knew that angels, such as my guards, walked among the citizenry. They were my voice to the people, instructing them in preparedness. Our posture was cautious. Our stance was disciplined. We were ready.

I called up the navigators, and Wiznchour answered. I asked, “What of the objects of interest?”

“Let me check,” he replied. A moment later, Wiznchour gave his answer. “They are well behind us, Your Majesty.”

I thanked him and called up General Taush. “Please send another hail.”

I called broadcast, “GM, is there any sign of my brother’s ship?”

The GM answered soothingly, “The path ahead is clear.”

I sighed and closed my eyes. I could not imagine why we had no signal from LUC. Had there been an accident? Was he forced to turn back? I took the lift down and stepped to the bench before the GUF. I sat quietly and watched the mist. The movement was gentle and calming. I hoped father might speak, but nothing came.

I walked through the lounge to my room, waving my friends back into their seats. I sat on my bed, then laid back with my hands under my head. I listened to my mind and waited. It was as if an answer was there, hidden, mysterious. It lurked below the surface, taunting me. If there was an answer, I mused, what was the question? It is often the case that expectation is the obstacle. One must let it go. Then, it falls into your grasp.

I was tense with no remedy. As King, everyone below me was busy while I had nothing to do. I needed something to do. Anything would suffice, but, what? I left my bed and walked into the lounge. As I stepped into the lounge, Barachiel and Khamuel looked up. I stood looking at them, my mind blank. Barachiel turned in his seat to face me.

“Where to?” he asked.

Then, it came to me. “To the fields,” I answered.

My guards were dressed for combat. Their uniforms bore the crests of their respective orders. Their weapons were in holsters at the waist. They seemed out of place in the fields. I tried to ignore them and see the good all around me. I walked through rows of grain, a young healthy green. Fruit trees ahead; I saw workers collecting peaches. I passed them and soon could smell the animals of the ranch. I heard sheep and goats.

There were so many workers. They were so busy, and yet, I saw no place for myself. I turned from the ranch toward Thusa; my guards followed quietly. Past the wheat and corn, the den of construction came to our ears. When Thusa came into view, I saw new dwellings going up. I walked to the nearest and fastened a tool belt around my waist. Kno turned to me and smiled.

I said, “I want to help.”

I needed to feel normal. I needed a place, not for the King, but for me. Kno gave me that. I spent turns hammering nails, sawing wood, planing, and by the time I dropped my tool belt, I felt complete. Two new cabins had gone up, and Kno bragged about my efforts to his sons.

“You should work so hard,” he told them.

I turned to my guards with sweat on my face and a smile on my lips. I felt enlarged. For several turns, life had been kind to me. When the workers spoke to me, they spoke to Jeez. My hands were rough, and I toyed with a blister. I felt accomplished. I had actually done something.

I told my guards, “Let’s go home.”

Working with my hands gave me pleasure. Over the next several rotations, I sought labors. I helped in Thusa. I helped in Hope. I worked in the fields and at the ranch. I did all of that and was sated. Throughout the fleet, the sense of alarm faded. The military presence slowly waned, and life returned to routine.

I called for a feast on the glass sea. I put all my people around me. Zotha sat on my right, Rigil and Bollate on my left. I brought Taush and Khamuel and Barachiel to eat at my table. Engil sat beyond Zotha. Kno was there. His sons and their wives joked with the sisters of Lamet. Jisse was absent as she was unwell. 

I raised my glass of wine and toasted each of my friends in turn. The many turns were filled with joy, and we laughed like small children. Even Taush and Khamuel were at ease. We filled our souls with the love of those around us, and life was good. Passersby stopped to stare; some of them joined us. The merriment was loud and infectious. It was very late when Zotha and I were helped to my apartment. We were dumped unceremoniously onto my couch and we laughed. Then I was alone with Zotha.

Her head lay on my shoulder, and I rested my face among the curls of her hair. The scent of her pleased me. I hummed softly, happily.

Zotha laughed lightly and asked in a quiet voice, “Should we have drunk so much?”

I answered, “I’m not drunk so much. You’re drunk so much.”

Zotha laid her head in my lap and stretched out. She said, “Let’s go to bed.”

We fell asleep on my couch. There were no dreams, just dark empty bliss. It was in the same sitting position that I opened my eyes. My neck was stiff, and there was an annoying sound I wished to smash. At first, I could not determine where it was. I looked about, wondering where I was. Reality dawned slowly. Zotha slept with her head in my lap while my node alarm chimed relentlessly.

By the time I laid Zotha’s head on the couch and stumbled to my desk, the alarm had stopped. I tapped the screen on and rubbed my eyes. I saw three entries for Lamet. I made the connection and yawned while I waited. I dozed but was soon awakened.

“Your Majesty,” said Lamet.

I opened my eyes and focused on his face. The gray hair below his eyes was mottled. He had been crying. Suddenly, I was alert. I sat up and cleared my throat.

“Yes,” I said. “What is it?”

Lamet moaned. “Jeez,” he said, and I was alarmed by the sorrow in his voice. “Jisse dead.”

As my heart froze in place, Zotha called sleepily from the couch, “What is it?”

“Jisse dead,” Said Lamet a second time. Then he wept.

The hall was packed with kneeling Kee as Lamet and I walked to Jisse’s room. There was a tangible and moving sense of loss as the Kee moaned loudly. Jisse was known and loved by all, no less by me. I wiped tears from my face as Lamet opened the door to Jisse’s room. Then, I felt a hand on my leg and looked down. Nisra leaned forward, clutching my pant leg. She wept bitterly. Lamet knelt and took his sister in his arms as I turned into the room.

I felt so guilty looking down into Jisse’s calm face. I had reveled while she lay dying. I could not remember the last time I had come to see her. Now, she was dead; all I could do was fall to my knees and weep. I laid my head on her still body and apologized through bitter tears. Voices in the hall ceased to moan. They took up Nisra’s lament, and our voices mingled.

Lamet knelt beside me and placed a hand on my shoulder. I sat back and rubbed tears from my face. I calmed myself with great difficulty and took several deep breaths. Then, Lamet placed his hands on Jisse’s bed, and we looked long into Jisse’s face as the lament continued.

Lamet turned to me and said, “Put Jisse by Thusa.”

“Yes,” I said, nodding. “Yes.”

At the graves, I stood with Lamet. The many Kee who had gathered to pay respects began to wander away. I stood quietly and read Thusa’s headstone. His name was in large letters; just below, I could read the words, Leader of the Kee. The dates below showed me that Thusa had lived one hundred and eleven revolutions. Finally, at the bottom, there were the words, Friend of Jeez.

Jisse’s grave, to the right of Thusa’s, had only a white wooden cross. I turned to Lamet and said, “I would like Jisse to have a nice stone.”

Lamet nodded. I knelt beside Jisse’s grave and arranged the flowers. I sat back on my heels and sighed. I said wearily, “I have lived too long.”

Lamet answered, “Live long. Take care of Lamet when dead.”

I had no answer. I could not deal with the thought of yet another loved one leaving me. I stood and placed a sympathetic hand on Lamet’s shoulder. A slight pressure called him away with me, but he shook his head.

He said, “Lamet stay a while.”

I turned and left. My guards were waiting among the fruit trees. We had walked quietly into the fields when Barachiel remembered he had a message to relay.

“Oh!” said Barachiel. “Wiznchour has raised an alarm. General Taush requests the King’s presence on the Tristow.”

“What is it?” I asked.

Khamuel answered. “Apparently, the objects Wiznchour had been tracking have turned behind us and now follow. Our defense formation has been moved to the back of the fleet. Wiznchour is with General Taush in the operations column.” 

The Tristow was busy as I walked with my guards from the tree to operations. I found Taush and Wiznchour on the central tier. They stood with their backs to me, heads bent together over a bank of monitors. I cleared my throat for attention.

Taush turned and crossed his chest, as did Wiznchour, and Taush called out, “Your Majesty.”

Those not already at attention stopped and stood upright in respect. Taush called again, “At ease.” Operations activities resumed. “Come,” said Taush, taking my elbow. “Take a look.”

I confess, I only saw white dots on a blue screen. There were lines connecting to text and coordinates, but my eye was obviously not as trained as theirs. I was on the verge of saying something dismissive when I saw one of the dots move. Neither stars nor space debris changed course; I understood then that I was looking at a formation of ships.

Taush tapped the screen. “There,” he said, and turned to look me in the face. “We are being followed.”

“Any ideas?” I asked.

Wiznchour and I watched the General pace before us. He turned abruptly. “I see only two possibilities. It is either an unknown race, or your brother has returned with many of his ships.”

“Do we know how many ships there are?” I asked.

Wiznchour answered. “The GM gives us a count of three hundred.”

I saw the seriousness of the matter. The General was wound tightly. I gave my response in a decisive manner. “Bring our defenses to maximum, and hail them.”

Taush turned and slapped the console before him. Immediately, alarms blared around us. Personnel scrambled to strategic positions. Taush took my arm and pulled me into a nearby room. Wiznchour followed and closed the door behind us. Thankfully, the noise was less severe.

Taush sat at a small console; the screen lit up. He said without turning, “We’ve hailed without success, but I have an idea.”

Wiznchour and I stood quietly behind the General as he entered a string of alphanumeric characters. He sat back, and the GM spoke.

“General Taush,” said the GM. “Your authorization is acceptable. Ship to ship code has been sent. Awaiting return.”

Taush turned and stabbed us with a steely gaze. “I’ve sent the code for your brother’s ship. If it is LUC, we’ll know it.”

The GM spoke. “Transmission is successful. Codes match.”

I have to admit, my mouth dropped open. LUC followed the fleet with a great number of ships. His actions, decidedly stealthy, made me ill at ease. What was my brother up to? What were his intentions? I recalled father’s words, “Prepare for war.” My heart beat fearfully in my chest. Then, the amplifiers crackled with static, the small room filled with the voice of my brother.

“So it begins,” said LUC.