Playing Marbles for the Big Blue

03 The Catalyst Decision

By Jo Dora Webster

What does Rasctan have to do with the death at birth of Princess Amaza?

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Author's Note: This is the completely rewritten, second edition. I'm posting the second edition chapters through 8. I have edited chapters 9-14 in place to the second edition version. Next, I'll post the story from chapter 15 to its conclusion with chapter 26. The first edition lacked elements necessary to complete it.

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Author's note: This story is set in my Limoxian Universe. My other stories set in this universe are books published by DopplerPress on Kindle and all the proceeds from purchases go for the support of BCTS. They are Pretty Please! No Foolin' and Space Force Enterprise. You can find these books on Amazon via the story links for them in the right-hand margin. And now on with this story!

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03 The Catalyst Decision

The pre-dawn hours on Alban Kai held a peculiar stillness that I had always found conducive to my most ambitious thinking. The twin suns hadn't yet crested the horizon, leaving the crystalline spires of the Aurenium bathed in the soft bioluminescent glow that marked our planet's unique atmospheric properties. I sat in my private study chamber, surrounded by holographic displays showing spacecraft schematics and navigation charts, while Sela's bracelet form pulsed gently against my wrist.

"Your cortisol levels have been elevated for the past three cycles," Sela observed, her voice carrying that note of concern I'd grown to appreciate. "The Innovation Contest results are still affecting you more than you're willing to admit."

I gestured dismissively, though my fingers trembled slightly as I manipulated the holographic controls. "It's not just the contest, Sela. It's everything. The entire system designed to keep people like me in our place."

"People like you?"

I paused, my hand hovering over the interface. This was the conversation I'd been avoiding, the truth that burned in my chest every time I looked at my official records. "Sela, what do you know about my birth records?"

"Only what's in the official databases. You're listed as a foundling, parents unknown, discovered at the Aurenium's foundling center as an infant. Standard documentation for abandoned pre-emergents."

"Standard," I repeated bitterly. "Yes, that's what they want everyone to believe."

Sela's processing cycles accelerated, her bracelet form pulsing more rapidly. "Rasctan, your biometric readings suggest significant emotional distress. What aren't you telling me?"

I stood and moved to the window, gazing out at the distant palace complex where the ruling family resided. The Queen's tower rose above all others, its apex lost in the morning mist. "Three cycles ago, when I was developing your core programming, I needed access to the deepest levels of the planetary database. My clearance wasn't sufficient, so I... improvised."

"You hacked the central records system."

"I prefer to think of it as advanced research methodology." I turned back to face her, my reflection ghostlike in the crystalline walls. "What I found changed everything, Sela. My official birth record is a fabrication."

The silence stretched between us, filled only by the soft hum of the chamber's environmental systems. When Sela finally spoke, her voice carried a note I'd never heard before—something approaching shock.

"What did you discover?"

I activated my personal security protocols, ensuring our conversation couldn't be monitored, then pulled up a hidden file on my workstation. Three birth records materialized in the air before us, arranged chronologically.

"The record on the left is what everyone sees—Rasctan, foundling, parents unknown." My voice caught as I pointed to the middle document. "The record in the center is the first amendment, sealed and supposedly destroyed. And this one..." I gestured to the third record, "this is the original, created before I was even born."

Sela's form went completely still, her processing systems working at maximum capacity. "Three separate records for the same birth?"

"Three separate lies to cover up one inconvenient truth." I manipulated the display, highlighting specific data points on the original record. "Princess Amaza, firstborn child of Queen Celestine and her Consort Valdris. Crown Princess and heir to the throne of Alban Kai. Created six months before my birth, when the Queen was so certain she was carrying the perfect female heir."

"The original record was presumptive?"

"Arrogant presumption," I said bitterly. "The Queen was so confident in her ability to produce the required female heir that she had the birth record created in advance. Princess Amaza was already being celebrated throughout the kingdom before I even drew my first breath."

I highlighted the second record. "Then I was born male, and everything fell apart. The presumptive record had to be amended to reflect reality—Prince Rasctan, male heir to the throne. But that created a different problem."

"The matriarchal succession laws."

"Exactly. A male firstborn would complicate the entire power structure. The Queen couldn't simply declare me heir without challenging the fundamental principles of our society." I felt the familiar surge of pain and anger. "So she made a different choice entirely."

Sela's voice carried careful modulation as she processed this revelation. "She created the third record."

"The coverup record. Princess Amaza was declared stillborn—a tragic loss that garnered sympathy throughout the kingdom. Meanwhile, Prince Rasctan was quietly transferred to the foundling center and given a new identity as an orphan of unknown parentage."

"The Queen told the entire planet that her child had died?"

"She told them that her daughter had died. The perfect female heir she had promised them, the crown princess who would have continued the matriarchal line." I closed the displays with an angry gesture. "In her mind, I wasn't just the wrong gender—I was proof of her failure as Queen and mother."

"But why not simply acknowledge you as a male heir? Other matriarchal societies have adapted—"

"Because Queen Celestine is nothing if not proud," I interrupted. "She had spent months proclaiming the coming birth of the perfect princess. Court ceremonies, public announcements, diplomatic communications to other worlds—all celebrating Princess Amaza before she even existed."

I moved to my equipment storage, beginning to gather the tools I would need for what came next. "Do you know what it's like, Sela, to discover that your mother would rather tell the universe you're dead than admit she was wrong about your gender?"

"I can analyze the psychological impact, but I cannot truly comprehend the emotional experience."

"Every achievement I've made, every innovation I've created, every moment of brilliance—it's all been an attempt to prove that her decision was wrong. That the son she threw away was worth more than the daughter she pretended to lose."

I pulled out a portable data storage unit and began loading it with navigation charts and technical specifications. "The Innovation Contest was supposed to be my moment of triumph. Creating you, demonstrating capabilities that surpassed anything the emerged adults had achieved—it should have been enough to make her acknowledge her mistake."

"But it wasn't."

"Half recognition. Corporate interest in purchasing my work. The same dismissive treatment I've received my entire life." I slammed the storage unit closed with more force than necessary. "I'm tired of being the ghost of Princess Amaza, the living reminder of the Queen's greatest shame."

Sela's bracelet form pulsed with what I had learned to interpret as deep consideration. "So you've decided to steal a spacecraft and journey to Earth."

"I've decided to prove my worth in a way that cannot be ignored, dismissed, or covered up with false records." I activated the holographic star charts again, focusing on the Sol system. "The emerged adults treasure those who establish new trade relationships. They become legends, honored throughout Alban history."

"And you believe that successfully contacting Earth would force the Queen to acknowledge you."

"I believe that returning as the first Alban to establish trade relations with Sol III would make it impossible for her to continue pretending I don't exist." I highlighted Earth's position on the chart. "Imagine it, Sela. The stillborn princess who lived. The foundling who became a hero. The cast-off son who expanded Alban Kai's reach into the galaxy."

"The risks are enormous, Rasctan. If you're caught stealing a spacecraft—"

"If I'm caught, I'll face exile or execution. But I'm already living in exile, aren't I? Exiled from my rightful place, from recognition, from the family that declared me dead rather than acknowledge my existence."

I began pulling up detailed schematics of the spacecraft housed in the cloaked spaceports. "Besides, I won't be caught. You can interface with any system, bypass any security protocol. Together, we're capable of accomplishing what no one expects from a supposedly dead prince."

"The planetary cloak will prevent us from leaving Alban Kai's atmosphere."

"The cloak is designed to keep emerged adults from detecting unauthorized departures. But it operates on energy signature recognition patterns that assume the pilot is an emerged consciousness." I smiled grimly. "They never anticipated a pre-emergent with advanced AI assistance attempting to breach their security. Especially not one who officially doesn't exist."

Sela was quiet for a long moment, her processing systems working through the implications. "You've been planning this since you discovered the truth about your birth."

"Since the moment I realized that my mother would rather mourn a fictional dead daughter than celebrate a living son." I gestured toward the spacecraft schematics. "The Stellar Wind class ships are perfect for our needs—fast enough for interstellar travel, small enough for two individuals to operate, and equipped with the kind of advanced systems you can interface with directly."

"Assuming we can steal one without being detected."

"The spaceports are cloaked to prevent pre-emergents from even seeing them, let alone accessing them. But your sensor capabilities can penetrate standard cloaking technology." I highlighted a particular ship on the display. "This one—the Quantum Dancer. It's scheduled for routine maintenance tomorrow, which means minimal security presence and all systems powered down for easier access."

"You want to steal a spacecraft during a maintenance cycle."

"I want to liberate a spacecraft that's being wasted in storage while the emerged adults debate endlessly about expansion policies." I turned to face Sela directly. "This isn't just theft, Sela. It's a resurrection. Princess Amaza is going to rise from her supposed grave and achieve something extraordinary."

"And if the Queen discovers your true identity during the investigation that will inevitably follow?"

The question hit me like a physical blow. I had considered this possibility countless times, weighing the potential consequences against the promise of finally achieving recognition.

"Then she'll have to explain to the entire planet why she declared her firstborn child dead rather than acknowledge a male heir. Why she created false records and abandoned her own son to preserve her image of perfection." I felt a surge of grim satisfaction. "Either way, the truth comes out."

"You're willing to destroy the royal family's reputation to achieve your goals."

"I'm willing to expose the truth about how they treat their own children when those children don't match their expectations." I moved back to the window, looking out at the palace complex. "She made her choice when she decided I was better off dead than acknowledged. Now I'm making mine."

Sela's voice carried a note of something I couldn't quite identify—sadness, perhaps, or resignation. "You're certain this is the path you want to take?"

"I'm certain that I refuse to remain buried in the grave of lies she created for me." I turned back to the spacecraft schematics. "Earth represents opportunity, Sela. A chance to prove that the supposedly stillborn princess can achieve something that will echo through Alban history."

"And if we succeed? If we establish trade relations with Earth and return as heroes?"

"Then Queen Celestine will have to face the greatest irony of her reign—that the child she declared dead to save face became the living hero who expanded her kingdom's reach into the galaxy." I began finalizing the technical specifications for our journey. "She'll have to admit that her shame and pride cost her the greatest achievement in royal history."

"You're talking about more than recognition. You're talking about claiming your birthright."

"I'm talking about proving that Princess Amaza never really died—she just learned to survive in a world that didn't want her to exist." I completed the final preparations and turned to face Sela's bracelet form. "Tomorrow night, we steal the Quantum Dancer and begin our journey to Earth. Are you with me?"

The pause that followed seemed to stretch for eternity. I could almost feel Sela's processing systems working through probability calculations, ethical subroutines, and loyalty protocols.

"You created me to be your partner in innovation," she said finally. "If resurrecting Princess Amaza and proving her worth to the galaxy is the greatest innovation of your life, then yes, I'm with you."

Relief flooded through me, followed immediately by anticipation. "Then we should begin detailed preparations. Navigation routes, supply calculations, communication protocols—"

"Rasctan," Sela interrupted gently. "There's something you should consider."

"What?"

"If your true identity is Princess Amaza, and if we succeed in our mission to Earth, you won't just be proving your worth to the Queen. You'll be proving that her greatest failure was actually her greatest success—if she'd had the courage to acknowledge it."

The implications of her words hit me like a thunderbolt. I had been so focused on gaining recognition that I hadn't fully considered what that recognition might mean.

"The stillborn princess, returning as the hero who expanded the kingdom," I said slowly.

"The rightful heir, having demonstrated capabilities that surpass even the emerged adults' achievements while supposedly dead."

I felt a smile spreading across my face—not the bitter expression I'd worn for cycles, but something genuine and fierce. "Then we'd better make sure we succeed spectacularly. Princess Amaza deserves a resurrection worthy of legend."

As I began outlining our detailed plans for the theft and journey, I felt something I hadn't experienced since discovering my true identity: purpose beyond pain. Not just the desire for recognition or acknowledgment, but the determination to prove that the Queen's greatest shame could become her kingdom's greatest triumph.

The emerged adults could keep their protective barriers and their careful control. The Queen could keep her false records and her convenient lies. I was going to show them all what the supposedly dead princess was capable of achieving when freed from the grave of their expectations.

Earth was waiting, and Princess Amaza—disguised as the foundling Rasctan—was ready to claim her place in history.

Tomorrow night, the resurrection would begin.