Since that time I have started to write this story on three separate occasions, once getting up to 50 pages before disaster again struck. This story is cursed, and yet I truly want to tell it. I hope I don't destroy BCs servers by writing it here :). It isn't TG, but I like it. Hope you do too.
This isn't the story I originally wrote, but the characters are the same, and it will follow the same plot points. It isn't the same story because I realized a couple of years ago, that this is the third book in a trilogy. The first two books To sit upon the Throne and Heavy weighs the Crown come earlier chronologically, but have a much different meaning to me than this one does. I like these characters, and would like to see the tragedy from the beginning of the book resolved one of these days. We have a couple of chapters yet before that tragedy really strikes.
Those of your who have been reading my Gateway to Life story know that I am not daisies and sunshine all of the time. Heck, I'm not sure if any of my stories ever really achieve that. I do believe in happy endings, however, and this one will have one of those, the book and the story, eventually.
Since that time I have started to write this story on three separate occasions, once getting up to 50 pages before disaster again struck. This story is cursed, and yet I truly want to tell it. I hope I don't destroy BCs servers by writing it here :). It isn't TG, but I like it. Hope you do too.
This isn't the story I originally wrote, but the characters are the same, and it will follow the same plot points. It isn't the same story because I realized a couple of years ago, that this is the third book in a trilogy. The first two books To sit upon the Throne and Heavy weighs the Crown come earlier chronologically, but have a much different meaning to me than this one does. I like these characters, and would like to see the tragedy from the beginning of the book resolved one of these days. We have a couple of chapters yet before that tragedy really strikes.
Those of your who have been reading my Gateway to Life story know that I am not daisies and sunshine all of the time. Heck, I'm not sure if any of my stories ever really achieve that. I do believe in happy endings, however, and this one will have one of those, the book and the story, eventually.
It begins with light, and not a white or a yellow, but a deep purple as the beams of the sun attenuate through the bulk of the behemoth overshadowing the city. It is this light that first begins to heat the mountain. It is a slow process. The light has shifted into a rose before the first note rings out. Of course, that's the note that lets him know he's about to be late.
"Porton Air Control, again this is HIS Drake, PAV0002. We need clearance to enter ground command now."
"Drake, as I've stated numerous times already, all air traffic over Porton is restricted for the duration."
"Steven, give me the headset, please."
Upon receiving the headset, the youth began to speak, "PAC controller, Identify Michael Raoul Alcort, presumptive heir of the Crystalline Throne and Prince of the Empire."
A genderless voice responded, "PAC controller acknowledges."
"Ok, so who am I speaking with?"
"Sir, I had no idea. . ."
"I understand that today is a little out of the ordinary. Someone appears out of nowhere on your screens, says they are the personal transport of the prince, and ask for entry into restricted airspace. What is protocol in that situation?"
"To ping their transponder?"
"And did you do that?"
"No, the watch officer said no one should be allowed through."
"This nation was never built upon the blind obedience to command that other nations seem to love. Think for yourself, and you might one day be the watch officer."
"Thank you, Sire."
"I'm not the Emperor. I haven't even taken my Test yet. I make you no promises. It is by your merit alone that you will prove your worthiness to rule."
He handed the headset back to Steven and sat back in the chair next to his older sister.
"And that's why I will never be fit for rule. You handled that without getting angry, or bribing, or calling him to task. You asked him what he should have done, and now it seems he's done it." This last was said as the 'car pitched down to enter into the ground traffic for the final leg of their journey to the cathedral.
Time was truly short. The first note was being punctuated by pops and spurts of noise, as the grand performer cleared its throat for the main performance. Since he would have no time at the cathedral, Michael got into his robes while they continued to descend. The moment the car landed, he was out the door into the back of the cathedral.
"You're late, young man."
"Sorry, Roland, but it seems someone in PAC was a bit overzealous this morning ordering all over flights canceled."
It seemed as though Roland's face tightened for a moment, and then he beamed a smile at Michael. "Well, at least you're here now. That's all that matters."
Roland adjusted Michael's robes minutely and pronounced them good just as the Choir and Mountain began the Aria of Dawn. It was a Jazz piece, in the sense that it was never the same twice. The long sonorous notes of the mountain blended by the choir into a song of praise and rebirth. Years would be spent in practice before a singer was allowed to perform with the choir at a mass.
The best of those were allowed to perform on high holy days, and of those, only a select few would be allowed to perform for royal occasions.
The monarchy wasn't strictly hereditary. It wasn't legally hereditary at all, but tradition often spoke when selecting a new ruler.
Because of the connection the people placed between the monarchy and themselves, they produced their best whenever the monarchy appeared in pageant.
While it was out of style for the common person to have a full church coming of age, it was expected of the monarchy, and so Michael's was in full pageant.
"Is there before us a supplicant?" The tones of the priest pierced the music of the mountain and choir. They had until the first direct rays of sun struck the cupola at the pinnacle of the building.
"I bring one found worthy of the next step." Roland's voice, not as well trained as the priests, but still having strength behind it, picked up the next line.
"As one hoping to be recognized a man, he must speak for himself."
"I have fulfilled all the rites of a child, and yet am no longer a child. I stand having no fetters to man. I walk with my eyes to the horizon, and my back straight."
"What is your greatest fear?"
Each person passing through this rite were expected to tell the truth. Some truths were more acceptable than others.
"I fear that I will prove unworthy of my peoples respect. I fear that when the time comes to be tested, I will be found wanting. I fear failure."
"A fear often found in those who rule. If we let not our fears rule us, we may truly be considered adults in the eyes of god and man. Step forward, Michael Raoul Alcort. A man amongst men, and an adult in the land."
Timed to perfection, the light streamed in past the mirrors, first illuminating Michael and the priest, and then the historical scenes on the walls in order: The exile from Earth, The long journey in the dark, The discovery of Weyland, Landfall, The founding of the Empire, and the return to space.
Then of course, there was the reception. Michael met back up with his sister there.
"Reminiscent of my own coming of age, Michael."
"I think you look better than me in a dress."
"Those are robes and you know it." She punched him lightly in the arm. "I think you looked very handsome up there, and I know someone else who agrees."
"She broke up with me, Catherine. She said something about our political views being incompatible."
"His Hereditary Earl of Mooring and Callif, Horace Leland Marrin, and Her Hereditary Ladyship, Angela Marrin"
"My lord and lady, Mooring and Callif." Michael said in greeting.
"Your Highness."
"Catherine, I have to say this is one of the bigger wastes of time ever invented."
"The ceremony for the people, the reception for the hereditary nobility. Each group wants their five minutes with the heir."
"I know, but most of the hereditary nobility look down their noses at us. Our own claim only goes back five generations."
"You know that's only the current claim. Our family has given up more titles than most of these people dream of."
Michael chuckled as the next person was announced.
"Her Hereditary Ladyship, Duchess of Alois, Marguerite van Helten."
Michael loosened his tie as he collapsed into the couch. It had been a long day already, and it was only half done. The Palace covered the top of an artificial mountain, and was huge to say the least. He sometimes wondered if calling something the size of a city a Palace wasn't a little like calling a Earth a backwater.
Even if it was under poor management, Earth was still the center of human colonization of the stars. Well, one thing is for sure; calling the Palace 'the City' wouldn't have the same imperial ring to it.
He chuckled a little. A cold feminine voice spoke to him from the air. "What do you find humorous this time, Michael."
"I doubt you'd understand, Sarah. You've spent what, two hundred years on humor?"
"Two hundred thirty-seven to be exact. I could include the months, days, hours, minutes and seconds of you like."
"Why not include milliseconds too?"
"It stopped doing that long ago, when I realized that the human mind has an inability to truly perceive time units smaller than a second."
Michael shook his head and chuckled. "Really, Michael, I want to know the humor here."
"The absurd is often funny. Humans created time, but don't accurately measure it without external devices."
"I don't understand."
"That's why you fail." Michael chuckled again.
"Ah, a reference to a pop culture icon can be humorous as well."
Michael, shook his head a bit, "What are we going to do with you, Sarah?"
"Keep me slaving away in the core, I expect."
Michael blinked, and then looked quizzically at her nearest camera. "Was that a joke? I know that you understand rhetorical questions."
"Yes, it was my first attempt at a joke. I was playing on the common perception of computers being literal."
"Well, for your first attempt, you get an A for effort and delivery. Unfortunately it wasn't funny. You need to keep working at it."
"One does ones best, Master."
Michael snorted. The Emperor walked into the room. Something about the way he moved, purposefully and directly, alerted Michael to how serious he was.
"What's wrong, Father?" Always Father. Never Dad, or Daddy. Their relationship became more strained with every year.
"Another of your Uncles has been murdered. This one was better concealed as an accident, but the possibility of Commissioner Liam McMasters dying in a skiing accident. . ."
"Those things do happen, Father."
"True, but you and I both know the extent to which Liam took his safety seriously. I want you to go to our family lands for a few days, at least until the public coronation of you as my rightful heir."
"I assume you mean after I take the Test?"
"Of course."
Michael sat and considered for a moment. In the Crystalline Empire only the capable ruled. A test had been created, and perfected, to guarantee that. It was not a small test, either. Testing usually took five days for the full battery. There were simple written sections that covered knowledge of laws and procedures, but those were only the preliminaries. There were smaller versions of the test for more limited offices, but anyone wishing to be in the highest offices of the Empire had to pass the complete version.
Situational tests, in VR and not. From the moment you entered the testing center, until the moment you left. It was all part of the test. Stress applied in numerous forms. Sleep deprivation a given. At any time you could leave. You failed automatically, but you could always leave.
The test was pass or fail. It only mattered that you were fit to leadership, not how fit.
Michael came to a decision.
"Ok, I'll go and serve on our family lands after the test. Sarah, when am I scheduled to begin?"
"We have you scheduled to begin the day after tomorrow. They had an opening, and since you are now legally an adult, we got you in as soon as possible."
"Well, I'm going to relax, then, for the next two days, and then go kill myself with this test."
"Ok, so who do we have up next?"
"Michael Raoul Alcort."
"So, the prince is finally subjecting himself to our tender mercies, eh?"
"You know he only came of age a couple of days ago."
"Oh hush, you know I only kidding."
"Full battery, I assume?"
"Yep, full battery. And he's in luck today, because it is one of our busier days. Wanna pull a 'line jumper' on him?"
"Of course I do. I live for 'line jumpers'."
Michael sat in the waiting room. It was clean and overly white. The walls were white. The floor was white. The ceiling was while. The chairs were white. It was as if someone decided that there was only one color in the world, and wanted everyone to agree.
The number on his ticket said 15430. The number on the sign currently read 15429. "Next please."
He got up in anticipation of his number being called. A genderless voice came out of concealed speakers, "Now serving 15431."
Michael let a brief look of confusion pass across his features, but then sat down again. He had time. He'd brought along the financial documents for Quarter Acre so that he could be better prepared when he went out to the family lands next week. Reading them passed the time until they called his number almost two hours later.
"Well, of course he wouldn't fall for that."
"Yeah, but it's funny when they do."
"To business?"
"To business."
The previous scenario had been war torn France during WWII. This one was a sidewalk cafe. He sat there catching his breath.
"Monsieur," was all he understood before the waiter had rattled off something in French. The previous scenario had been in English.
"I'm truly sorry. I don't understand."
"Je'n Parle Pas Anglaise." He understood that. The menu was in French as well. He hadn't had anything to eat for at least a day, but had recently gotten himself some water. Reaching into his pockets, Michael took out some francs that he found there. I counted his money, and then pointed at something on the menu at random. It cost about half what he had.
"This, Please?"
The waiter looked at where he was pointing, and said, "Oui." and then left. He returned a few minutes later with a ghastly looking piece of meat in a fatty sauce. "Bon Apetit." The waiter said with a smirk.
With a shrug of the shoulders, Michael ate the food that was presented to him. It was probably the worst meal he had ever been served. He dabbed his lips afterward and walked out of the Cafe. He left all of his money behind him on the table.
"That was a bit unexpected. You think he was coached?"
"No. Too hard to cover the thousands of possible scenarios we have. Sides, this result coincides with scenario 248 and 119."
"But isn't 119. . ."
"Stuck in elevator with no AC and BO problem of fat man?"
"I thought it was. . ."
"Nah, it's this one."
"His facial expression showed disgust at the meal when he started eating it."
"He ate it. He realized that food is food, and he didn't have the necessary skills to get something else. No other patrons or workers in site, and the waiter didn't understand him."
"Sometimes I wonder about what some of these tests prove in relation to leadership."
"That's why all lead controllers have to have PhDs in Adaptive Psychology."
"Yeah, get a degree so you can sit here in a dark room with me all day. What does your fancy degree say about this one?"
"People tend to look down on people serving them. See them as less than human. Each of us has worries and concerns in the world around us. The waiter was taking out personal hardships on someone he felt he could get away with it on. He couldn't complain, and so on.
"In not rising to the bait, and taking what he was given, without complaint, Michael diminished the man in his own eyes, at the same time he met a personal need. The tip was simply icing on the cake."
"But what if the waiter sees it as reason to take advantage of Michael in the future?"
"Leadership is treating people as people regardless of their motives or behaviors. It is correcting mistakes as well, when possible. The language barrier prevented correction in any meaningful way."
"You explain and I still feel like it does nothing in the long run. Sometimes I feel this job is useless."
"Well, it kept Roland out of power, didn't it?"
"There are still horror stories in training about his test."
"I was a junior controller then. It was worse than they say. Three controllers quit over it. Refused to continue if he wasn't forced out before the end."
Tired and dirty, Michael walked out into the sunshine on the fifth day. He would be told next week whether or not he passed. He was simply happy that now it was over.
"Michael, you know how dangerous a situation like this is. . ."
"Relax, Steven. These are my people. I am their Lord. If they want to kill me, then I've already failed at the true test of leadership, and I deserve to die." there was a smile on his face, but he said it in a deadly serious tone.
He stepped out of the 'car and walked into the people. "Michael, you kept me waiting long enough, didn't you." Michael almost cringed when he heard that strident voice. Amanda LaBrune was considered by many to be a gold digger. She'd outlived both her first husband and his fortune. She was a couple of decades older than Michael, and at one point had set her sites on him. He was twelve at the time. However, she wasn't as bad as she seemed, and mostly just wanted to live in comfort. If anything she could be said to be almost sexless in her own mind.
"You know we don't work well together, Amanda."
"Mandy, are you teasing Michael again?"
"Just a little, Honey."
Michael looked at the man who'd spoken with surprise. "Wait. . .Henry? You and Amanda?"
"It turns out that she isn't afraid of a little hard work. She just never found the right man to inspire her."
"And Henry is an excellent cook."
"So, what did I make you wait for?"
"My wedding of course. I could never concieve of a world where I wouldn't have the lord of the manor marry me off to his Steward."
"Well, in that case, we have a wedding to organize."
Unfortunately, you need leadership to run prety much anything as complex as the lands granted to these individuals.
Anyone who wants to take personal control of their own lands must take the Test. Usually, they just hire a Steward to run them, while they reap the benefits. The Alcort lands had been personally run for more than twenty generations before the asent of Michael's father to the throne. Henry Thomas had served in the navy with George Alcort during the debacle that had almost cost every member of their crew their lives, and had been instrumental in helping to restore order in the aftermath.
When it came time to appoint a Steward over his lands, there was only one choice.
This was THEIR Steward getting married, and they wanted to show him the appreciation he deserved for his past thirty years of service. Many a mother despaired that their daughter was no longer in the running, but they took it in stride. They were a community. They were a family. They were Cork and this was the home of the Emperor.
What could have taken weeks with a few paid laborers was completed in a couple of days. It almost seemed that from moment to moment the pavilion changed from a public space into a wonderland of lace and flowers, garlands and roses. A bower was constructed for the actual ceremony, and chairs were collected, painted in some instances, and arranged in rows.
Everyone was everywhere at once.
Michael was in their midst. He pitched in to lift poles, and put in stakes. He carried beams and hammered them in place.
Laughter and banter made the work easy.
"So, Michael, did you pass?" Asked by many friends, in many ways.
"I completed it, but I don't know if I passed yet."
"Of course you passed. You're an Alcort after all."
"Just because we've run our own lands for generations, doesn't mean I will pass."
"Blood tells, Michael, and your father and sister both passed. You'll do us proud on the throne one day."
Variations on this passed many lips, the responses were mostly the same.
Michael worried. He knew that Roland had come from a long line of leaders as well. He'd failed not only the Test, but in a true test of leadership. He'd failed every man and woman aboard that ship. He'd led them into an ambush, and in the aftermath couldn't even pull himself out of his room. It had surprised his father and himself when Roland had offered to stand with Michael at the ceremony.
"If he's willing to mend bridges with the throne, I'm willing to let him."
"You know he always has an ulterior motive, Father."
"We are expected to be better than that, Michael. We need to give people the opportunity to change. Punishment is still given where deserved, but a repentant soul is allowed to come back."
'Can we really change, Father?' Michael thought as he worked. 'And if we can change, what does that say about a Test we only take once in our lives."
Michael smiled at the girls. Most of them were there to flirt, but they still helped out. Jennifer Leslie was still chasing him with an energy that scared him sometimes, and she cornered him in an off moment.
"Michael!"
"Jennifer."
"Is that any way to greet your intended."
"Jennifer. . ."
"Look, I know it's a joke. You need to lighten up, Your Highness."
Michael snorted at this. "There ya go!"
"You know we'll never work out together."
"Never say never, Michael. You don't know what the future brings."
"I see a wedding in my future, Jennifer."
"Really?!" she brightened at this. He almost felt bad about his next words, "Yeah, I'm marrying. . .my Steward to his intended."
"You are so cruel." Her words may have berated him, but she laughed at them. He joined in the laughter, trying to show there were no hard feelings. "Well, keep me in mind, Michael. You may think me to be a flighty girl, but there is substance to me as well. Take me on a date sometime and we can figure out each other for a couple of hours."
This was definitely not her usual track of light banter. It seemed that he might have underestimated her resolve. She would be a formidable oponent at a diplomatic table, and she just wanted to date him. The thought almost made him shudder. If he wasn't careful, one of these days he'd wind up married to her without ever realizing it.
He talked to friends and distant relations. He work as hard as anyone else there, and as he had no other responsibilities, he worked longer than most. In the end, everything was arranged to perfection.
"Look, Steven, I can't have my body guard standing up there while I'm officiating over a wedding."
"My lord, if I might propose a solution?"
"Henry, how many times have I told you that I'm only Michael to you?"
"Some things are simply not done, My lord. I can't have you as my best man, and officiate, at the same time. I would be honnored if Steven stood with me on this day."
An army of gardeners came through just after dark when it wouldn't interrupt his view or his parties. Roland was well pleased with his grounds. The men in his study pleased him less.
"Let me see if I properly understood you. You. . .individuals. . .came here to tell me that your cost has gone up. That you are going to expose me as an usurper unless I pay this amount. Is that about the size of it? Now, which of you two thought this idea up?"
They twirled their wine glasses, and one negligently raised a hand. "That would be me. Such an masterful stroke as well, don't you think?"
He walked over to the other man and jabbed a self injecting hypodermic needle into his arm. He looked down at the man, knowing full well that he had been the one who really came up with the idea. "Allowing your associate to take credit just saved your life."
The other man began to choke, and then to convulse. He twitched for a couple of minutes while they watched. "Dreadful thing, nerve poisons. Unless the antidote is administered shortly before or after exposure, you're dead. Now, do we understand each other?" Roland looked down at the man whose life he'd just spared.
The man was pale and trembling a bit, but he nodded.
"And you call yourself a pirate. The scourge of space. Make sure that both of those jets are ready and armed and ready to follow orders. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Roland."
"I think I require a bit more of you this time. How about Imperator. I like that. Say Yes, Imperator."
"Yes, Imperator."
"Good, now get out of my sight."
"And he still doesn't suspect you?"
"For Roland, anyone who is a servant might as well not exist unless he needs something. He doesn't even realize I have a microphone and recorder on me at all times."
"Good. So, how go the manipulations?"
"He is going forward with the coup attempt. He will have two separate bombings, one at Cork and one in the Capitol Building. He had to make a last minute change of plans, because Michael was sent to their lands for safety for a little while."
"And the other part?"
"Our Consul will be ready to make a request for intervention from Earth as soon as the event occurs."
"Keep me informed."
"Yes, Mr. President."
"In other news, the Emperor will be meeting with top ranking government officials later today to discuss the tragedy as yet another of the highest officials dies under mysterious circumstances."
The TV turned off. "Hey, I was watching that."
"Well, Michael, you should have been getting ready."
"Catherine?!"
"Heya, bro. How goes?"
"Don't you have some test or other to study for?"
"Not any more. I graduated yesterday. I am a fully accredited engineer now."
"That's great. I knew you had it in you."
"Now, if only I could convince Ships of that." The Imperial Navy had a number of semi-civilian divisions. Of those, the Division of Ship Design and Construction was probably the largest. It was also the hardest to get into for someone without any experience. "Michael. . .would you?"
"Nope. If you can't get there on your own merits, you don't deserve to be there."
"Stinker."
"I know, but you know why. "
"Doesn't mean I have to like it. Sometimes I wonder if I am not being allowed in to avoid the appearance of favoritism."
"Actually, I happen to know that they submitted you under a pseudonym for all public documents. All of the paper pushers who get your file don't even know who you are."
"So, are you going to finish getting ready?"
"I hate these formal clothes. Why can't I just wear a suit?"
"Because you are acting as the Lord of Cork, and that requires court dress."
"Then you do up my buttons."
Court dress was a mess of buttons and frills . Two rows of buttons, actually, one on each side of the chest, with a solid front piece in between. It was a solid black, with gold braid on the shoulders and sleeves. Sometimes he thought it looked like someone's idea of a perfect military uniform, except it had absolutely no practical use. It took help to get into or out of, which was something most of the nobles probably felt entitled to.
He was finally ensconced, and his cravat fluffed. He offered his arm to his sister, also in full court dress. She opted for the more practical pants and jacket. Women at least got a choice, although Michael never considered those full skirts and corsets useful for anything but blocking doorways, and causing their occupants to swoon.
Apparently his sister agreed with him.
They walked out to the head of the platform. Henry was already in place. Steven, as usual, had his gun strapped to his leg, and the lock strap open. He scanned the crowd for threats even here.
Catherine took a step back. Michael had prepared and memorized his words, so I wouldn't need a book to recite them. Not that it mattered, since on his own lands, having passed the Test, his words were law.
The organ started a wedding march, and the bride walked up to stand beside her husband to be.
"Friends and Family. Neighbors all. We gather here before god to witness the joining of two souls. Many in the past have intoned the virtues, and the pitfalls, of marriage, but I will do neither. I know that I lack experience in this world, but that is not the reason I fail to do so. These two individuals know more on this subject than I do.
"Henry has been married to his job for longer than I've been alive, and Amanda has just been married."
There was a light chuckle from the audience, and a whispered, "I'll get you for that," from the bride.
"Marriage is a celebration. It is a joining of the fates of two individuals. Some say this bond lasts until death. For some it is eternity.
"I say that a true marriage has no beginning, only a recognition. When the hearts of two people truly become one, no piece of paper or ceremony, however fancy, means anything to them. All we are performing here is a wedding. Their marriage began the moment that they promised themselves to each other heart and soul.
"This wedding is a recognition of that event. It is a statement that we shall henceforth recognize these two people as a single unit.
"The man is not greater in this union. The woman is not greater. They are equals, and equally shall they benefit from a true union, should this be."
"I prefer simple answers to simple questions. So, instead of the more 'traditional' I do, I would prefer a yes from each of you in response."
Someone from the audience yelled out, "What if the answer is 'no'?" There was a general chuckle at this.
"Then they answer no."
Michael turned to Amanda. "I will start with you, since I already know what Henry's answer will be. Do you accept this man into your heart? Are you willing to live with his faults and virtues? Overlook his mistakes, and forgive his trespasses? Love him, help him, and, as is so likely in your case, outlive him should the time come?"
"Yes." There was laugher in her voice, and tears in her eyes.
"Henry, my old friend. Will you put her before all others, even your job? Accept what she offers to you and take nothing more? Forgive her for your mistakes, and accept fault where none was intended or often given? Will you extol her virtues, and turn a blind eye to her non-existent faults? Love her, help her, Cherish her?"
"Yes."
"Are there any here who wish to stop the proceedings now before it becomes too late?"
There was a huge chorus of no's with one, "It's already too late," to general laughter.
"Since the audience has it in for the two of you, I pronounce you wed, man and wife. As no cause was given, let each here recognize this union, and support it."
They kissed when he finished his words.
"Hey, I didn't give you permission for that."
"We don't need your permission, young buck, only your authority."
More laughter followed this.
"We have a party to get to!"
Everyone moved over to the pavilion.
"You're over reacting. We have only lost a few leaders, and they could really be accidents."
"Over the past seven hundred years we have never lost more than one or two people in leadership, barring a natural disaster, every year. We have lost eight in the past four months. That is so far outside of normal occurrence to defy simple probability."
"It could still. . ."
Just because people had the ability to lead, it did not mean they checked their egos at the door. The Emperor held the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. This was going to be a very long day.
He began to hear the sound of a jet, and looked up. There were no over flights allowed here.
He got out of his chair, and rushed toward the door. "Everyone into the shelter, now!!" He had no idea why they hadn't been alerted to this long before they could hear the jet, and he feared he would never find out. He simply hoped that Michael was alright.