37
“We should call last week’s summit a success. Send it across the news for the assholes to munch over,” My father said as he fiddled with the buttons on his shirt. We were heading toward Level Zero with Uncle Nathan, Amelia, and Jason.
I had named the topmost surface of Segerstrom Station, where the shipyards were, as Level Zero—around three hundred square miles of craggy hills, plateaus, and shallow valleys. I planned to use half of this space someday to create lakes, rivers, farms, forests, and perhaps a town or a mid-sized city. For now, what greeted me was an expanse of gray, dead rock when we came out of the elevator tram.
“We got the Swiss and Prime Minister Walker to agree on an embassy in Zurich and Auckland. Same with President Carrasco for Lima,” Amelia said. “And we’re working with Chabert to let us build one in London, and so far, the Brits are leaning toward granting our request. I say that’s a success.”
“Sure. I can cook up a story for our news station. What’d you say to Pablo Carrasco anyway?” Jason asked.
I shrugged. “I just told him about the benefits of having powerful friends.” It was way more than that, taking a few hours of buttering Carrasco’s ego and convincing him that I would be the one to benefit more from our newfound friendship and not him. Sometimes, people didn’t like being owed a favor or seen as less than others.
Jason smirked. “Right, right. Of course. We’re all friends like an episode of the Teletubbies.”
“You betcha,” I laughed.
We continued deeper into the hangar.
As instructed, Prime had built the main hangar six hundred feet tall and three thousand feet wide against a plateau, overlooking a flat plain hacked and carved for the skeletons of my fleet. The vast bulkhead doors were open to the vacuum of space, but the generated shields kept the air and atmosphere sealed. Beyond those doors, I glimpsed the framework of an almost completed sixth frigate swarmed by millions of nanites and thousands of drones, a vessel seventeen hundred feet long and two hundred feet tall—four times the size of the corvette.
Next to it was the fifth completed frigate, secured by hydraulic magnetic arms and waiting for inspection, and the first frigate, the I.S.V. Achilles, the designation standing for Imperial Star Vessel, and the primary royal ship on the fleet.
Tom Hennig, Ben Amendola (who I promoted to Commander of the Imperial Navy), and his men were hanging around the secured star-fighters by the landing pad. They touched its hull with excited curiosity like kids in a museum, muttering amongst themselves as they exchanged speculations about what was new. I recently upgraded and tweaked some of its components. Not too drastic. Just a mere increase in mobility by six percent and its thrust elevated for a twenty-seven percent burn power. I also added an extra payload. However, these star-fighters now had a shiny imperial coat in blue, white, and gold.
It was crazy to remember that a month ago, I watched the nanites tend on the still unconscious Lehane by replacing his lower spine and fractured right hip with a titanium alloy and stitching back the severed nerves. The nanites also grafted a new skin for Lt. Vincent Bradley and Lt. Edwin Eichler, but it did not come from an unaffected area of his body. It was new skin, made from the lieutenant’s skin cells and tissue samples, grown and propagated rapidly, and aided by silicone cells for an epidermal graft. So far, their treatment has taken the longest. Lt. Marlon Sagan had the piece of metallic debris removed from his abdomen, where no scar could be found.
And here they were now, alive and kicking. They were a walking reminder to the people living in Segerstrom Station of the nanites’ powerful potential for medicinal and surgical purposes in the war ahead. It certainly helped with the morale.
“Like what you see?” I asked. They stopped what they were doing. Tom, Ben, and the others stood in attention. “How’s everyone’s evening?”
“Pretty good,” Lehane said. “I did my run before dinner. I couldn’t even feel or tell that I broke my legs and spine a few weeks ago.”
“Same for me,” Nick said, gripping both fists. “Arm’s healed faster than I can sneeze.”
“We all thank you for that,” Ben said. He turned to look at the star-fighter behind them. “Uh, is this what you called us up for? Looks new.”
“It’s the same star-fighter. I’ve recently designated it as a Medusa-Class Star-fighter.”
“Why the name Medusa?” Nick asked.
“I want the enemies to freeze and turn into stone when they see us coming.”
“Seems appropriate,” Ben muttered.
Jason grinned proudly. “It was my idea to name them so we can use them on the vids. People like the names so far. I’m working with the LEGO group to commission a few toys.”
Amelia groaned. “Along with naming the corvettes as a Sprite-Class ship and the frigates as a Basilisk-Class.”
“It’s all about branding these days if you want to legitimize something, baby,” Jason said.
“Well, we need you boys flying out there,” I said, regarded Ben. “You and at least three squadrons should accompany us to Zurich. We’re going to pick up the new batch of immigrants.”
“Most of them from across Europe,” Amelia added.
I had wormed an extensive deal with The Swiss about investing in their banks and businesses using my gold and silver reserve (and I had plenty of that) and was willing to trade for their cattle and grain in exchange for my steel and other metal alloys. It had the unintended consequence of jumpstarting my economy, and I had been bombarded by headline after headline that the Tellurian Empire was now the wealthiest nation on Earth.
Jason and I loved the free publicity. Headlines like these enticed people to want a share of that wealth, which we used to significant effect. China, the US, and the other nations I had just overtaken to the top of the list were less than happy, urging The Swiss to discard our trade deal on the grounds of economic sanctions against Switzerland and the Empire. However, the Swiss had complex contingencies for such things, given many foreigners had caches of untraceable accounts within the country. Business is business, and it remained booming well after the noise had died down.
All bark and no bite, my uncle would say.
Now that I had set up official embassies covering three continents (Europe, South America, and Oceania), I didn’t have to force my men to sneak around and snatch my people back to the station like a child kidnapper with candies. At least President Howell’s insistence that I was a glorified human trafficker died down once these embassies were built in three days (thank the drones and nanites working 24/7). My announcement was met by many jeers online, but millions still applied with serious intentions to join me. The summit helped with that. Prime and I vetted the applicants through an algorithm; their present criminal history, loyalty assessments, levels of education, career paths, internet activity, family relationships, allegiance extrapolation, and so on.
The first (official and legal) immigrants, fifteen hundred strong, arrived three days ago at Segerstrom Station, joining the thirty thousand people already living here.
Another fifteen hundred arrived a day later and then a day after that—most were combat veterans and former soldiers from various countries. At the same time, the rest were scientists, doctors, engineers, and blue-collar workers. Some brought their families and pets with them.
The next fifteen hundred were gathering in Zurich, Switzerland, to be picked up later this afternoon at their airport. But the media began to spread this grand event called Earth’s Exodus, which had started to infect most countries. It was the typical fear-mongering tactic (and I wouldn’t be surprised who spearheaded them), intending to dissuade anyone from joining me. Many wanted to work in space; I was the only game in town to provide that dream.
Ben gave me a puzzled look. “Why do we need all hands on deck, sir?”
I noticed Uncle Nathan glowered at the commander for a brief second. He would later call Ben’s questioning a sign of insubordination. Follow your command and do not ask questions, he would say.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
“Jason, care to answer this?” I asked.
Jason smiled. “I’m setting up a last-minute press junket in Zurich airport for the emperor to be seen welcoming our new people. Plenty of the media had been hounding the airports, filming these immigrants entering our transport vessels like they were in some zoo. So, let’s capitalize on that by having the emperor go down there himself. I’ve already invited a few of them. They’re all waiting on the surface for our arrival.”
“And the Swiss wanted us to do it,” Tom added. “They thought it was showing a sign of solidarity between Europe and the empire. At least three Swiss councilors are attending. They wanted a handshake.”
“And I agree,” I said. “I haven’t been back to Earth in a long while. It’s good to breathe in some fresh air.”
“And real gravity,” Amelia said. “No more hums under our feet.”
Ben nodded. “Hence all hands on deck thing.”
“Yup. I thought a corvette or two would suffice, but—”
Jason wagged his finger. “We’re the empire. We gotta go big. We have to give them a show! Have two of our frigates and a fleet of our corvettes flying over the city. Have your men flying, commander, and do some flips!”
“Some…flips?” Nick smacked his lips.
“Just make it look pretty and badass, okay?”
Nick turned to Lehane and Sagan behind him, sharing a wide grin. “Yeah. We can do pretty.”
Amelia rolled her eyes. “We’ll leave in five hours, commander. Have your men ready. In the meantime, I’ll relax and read a book.” She pointed at the Achilles.
“And aside from giving the people a show,” my uncle interjected, “I’ve sent Prime a security briefing that your men should review before you fly. It’s waiting in Level 18. Since we still have a few hours left to kill, why don’t you gather your men and give it a read? It’s only ninety minutes long.”
Ben hid his discomfort. “I’ll do that, Admiral.”
Uncle Nathan was concerned for my safety since I announced that I was returning to Earth. Yesterday, I was a pretty target floating in space, out of anyone’s reach, but now that I’m on their radar, he feared that people might be gunning for me. Uncle Nathan called it “productive paranoia,” which he learned working for the Navy SEALs for almost two decades. “It comes with the job,” he said.
I patted my uncle on the shoulder as we walked toward the ship. “Don’t worry about me, uncle.” I tapped on the armor underneath my shirt and cloak. “I’m like a tin can burrito.”
Uncle Nathan heaved a sigh. “I know, but crazy people would still give it a try ripping that head of yours, and your father and I would very much like it intact and on your shoulders.”
----------------------------------------
“We’re approaching Zurich Airport, your grace,” Captain Dietrich Sully said, a man in his late fifties with salt and pepper hair and beard. He was a retired submarine captain for the British Navy who had placed his expertise on my frigate. “We’ll arrive in five minutes.”
“Thank you, captain. Carry on.”
The frigate’s bridge was three times larger than a corvette, with twice as many crew. This would be the first time I’ve seen it fully crewed, all the habitation quarters furnished, and the supplies fully stocked. The crew, however, were still brand new to their positions and rank, and Prime was doing half of the flying. Still, I needed them to have the experience. And because the Achilles was the designated royal ship, it was fully furnished in all its regalia. The entire aft of Deck Two was reserved as the emperor’s apartment; five bedrooms, a living room, a lounge area, a private observation deck, kitchens, a dining area, and a private combat simulation chamber.
Prime had also built Deck Two’s aft to be a detachable lifeboat in an emergency (if the ship exploded), complete with its cockpit. Prime loved his contingencies.
Daniel and Isaac were glued to the windows, watching the ship enter the atmosphere until we reached the city. They excitedly pointed at whatever landmark they could see, even when they did not know what they were.
“Can we go there, Tony? Can we land on top of that mountain? Please? It’s just close by,” Isaac asked. “I want to go skiing.”
Daniel snorted. “You don’t know how to ski. You’re only nine!”
I shook my head. “We’re not going to the Alps, Isaac, but on our next family vacation, we can go there if you’d like.”
“If we ever get a vacation,” Daniel muttered. “You’ve been pretty busy.”
“Yeah, because he’s the emperor now, stupid,” Isaac sneered at his older brother.
“Can we explore the city, at least?”
I frowned. “This is going to be a quick thing, Daniel. We’re going to pick up our people, and we’re going back home.”
Daniel’s shoulders slumped. “Oh. I thought we get to visit and buy chocolates or something.”
“Some other time, bud.”
“Yeah. We’re here to pick up cows and goats,” Isaac added. “And chickens and fish.”
My brothers had been cooked up inside the hub for too long, and I wanted them to walk around Earth again, even briefly. Daniel quickly shook away his disappointment and smiled at me.
“Well, thanks for letting us come with you, Tony,” Daniel said. “Mom doesn’t want us to go, but she’s also been busy planning to build schools on the station and other things.”
Isaac made a disgusted face. “Yuck. School.”
“Hey. You still need it,” I said.
“But we’re in space! School shouldn’t be allowed, right?” Isaac argued.
“You’ll still need an education now that the two of you are princes. Plus, the grown-ups also need school to survive in space.”
Isaac scowled. “But shouldn’t we get a free pass now that I’m a prince?”
I raised my eyebrow and laughed. “Now that I gave you a title, you’re abusing it already.”
“In movies, the prince doesn’t do any studying. At all.”
“It’s because they’re movies!” Daniel said. “And they’re into kissing more than studying.”
“Boys, boys, listen to me. Plenty of expectation now falls on your shoulders, and I don’t mean to scare you two. Just because you are a prince, Isaac doesn’t mean you are free from responsibility.”
Daniel sighed. “We know. It comes with the job.”
“Fine. I guess I’ll go to school,” Isaac said, but Daniel didn’t look convinced.
I caught Captain Sully smiling. “You’ve got some great boys, your grace.”
“Well, they can sometimes be a brat,” I said, ruffling Isaac’s hair.
“Hey! We’re no brats! Just Daniel.”
Daniel glowered at him. “It’s not me who always runs around wanting to ride a star-fighter and begging Ben to take you on a race around the moon.”
“That’s one time!”
“When you kids grow up, maybe you’ll be able to fly one of these someday,” Captain Sully said, gesturing around the bridge. I caught a few of the crew smiling at the princes. I might be one of the most hated men on Earth, but I’m glad that my brothers were well-loved by everyone. “If his grace allows it.”
I shook my head. “We’re taking it slow, captain. I don’t want them getting into any more trouble as is. Don’t think I wouldn’t know of their late-night exploring of the hub?”
Isaac’s eyes widened, and pointed at Daniel. “It’s all him! He forced me!”
“No, I didn’t! It was your idea!”
“Settle down, boys. I’m not angry, okay? Not everything in the hub has been explored yet, so I want you two to be careful.”
Jason approached me from behind, always carrying that large datapad he had never parted with. “Busy?”
“No, not really. Boys, why don’t you ask Captain Sully about the Achilles.” They both beamed and bombarded the poor captain with so many questions.
I walked toward Jason. “What is it?”
“So, I just got word from the ground. The press are all there, and they will take pictures of you and the boys,” Jason said. “Don’t worry. I didn’t open the stage for interviews, but they will try. Watch out for that. There is also a crowd of protesters, but thankfully, they are outside the airport.”
I turned on my datapad and looked up the event’s live feed. The news covered the protest and the people waiting for me on the tarmac. What strangers said about me usually didn’t bother me, but I didn’t know why this stung a little. This collective of strangers with such total loathing toward me when they didn’t even know me personally. Some of the signs were tame, like “Stay out of Earth,” “Discount Empire!” or “Overlord Stooge,” with my high school graduation photo heavily defaced below. However, the others attacked my sexuality, calling me a “faggot emperor,” depicting a caricature of myself being penetrated by the dead quartz, and even calling my late mother an “alien whore.”
I turned off the datapad. “Free speech, am I right?”
“They’ve said some nasty things about you, sure. But they don’t know you, Tony.”
“Well, glad to hear it in person then.”
“There is already a podium in place to give a brief speech, along with a few members of the Swiss Federal Council to join you on the stage. All fifteen hundred immigrants have just checked in and await you when we land.”
“Is all this pageantry really necessary?” I asked. “I’m still partial to picking them up with the corvettes.”
“Well, you shit the bed gold talking to the Swiss, and they actually said yes to your deals. And it’s too late to call off the press now. It would look poorly on us. This is the first time we’re picking up our people in public, and the world is watching as we speak, so we need to give them a good show. Hence, all this spectacle.”
I looked back at the guards, their get-up, and Captain Sully’s uniform. “We should give them a better outfit. I’m worried they’ll trip on their cape. Imagine if they go into the battlefield with this get-up.”
“What? I made it only go down behind their knees.” Jason looked offended. “And we’ve worn capes for thousands of years, and I don’t hear any soldiers tripping over them.”
“Last I remembered, I didn’t invent a Time Machine.”
Jason rolled his eyes and turned to the captain. “Captain Sully, do you hate your uniform?”
Captain Sully’s eyes bulged. “Oh, I, um, can’t form an opinion about the matter, my lord.”
“You’ve worn that uniform for almost five weeks. You should have one.” Jason insisted.
I caught the captain’s panicked look, afraid to offend him, but I raised my hand toward Jason. “It’s alright, Jason. I was just voicing my opinion.”
“My brother and a few of the design committee worked hard on those designs. Not just me,” Jason said. “And we’re the empire, dude. As long as I’m in charge of the ministry, I will do my best to make us look badass. And you.” He paused with a grin. “And mostly me.”
“Asshole. Fine. I’ll try to look…um, badass.”
“There you go!”
And ridicule online. I looked down at mine; a white double-breasted jacket, black gloves, dark blue trousers, and black knee-high boots secured by a lighter blue cape. An oval-shaped gold crown with red rubies and black opal crystals symmetrically fixed around the metal rest lightly on my head. The nanites carefully and meticulously forged it, and Prime had already priced it under twenty-five million dollars.
Still, I was impressed that an imperial citizen—from a civilian blue-collar worker to a lowly government staff and up to the highest-ranking officer in the military—would stand out in a crowd if you compared them to the other countries. Everyone working in the committees within the Ministry of Media had fun creating the new designs worn by my people by taking inspiration from the Regency era and molding them into a more modern and cyberpunk-inspired scheme. Jason affectionally called it “Backward and Forward Fashion.” Even Jason’s get-up heavily inspired this; a dark green dress coat, a waistcoat, a white cravat around his neck, black pants, polished boots, and a green cape.
“And how much does this spectacle cost me?”
“Only nine million credits. That’s twelve million euros, by the way, if we’re going by local currency. We are shutting down Zurich Airport for two hours, which costs money. A lot of money.”
“I’m charmed,” I said sarcastically.
The quartz remains in San Francisco, forerunner, Prime notified me inside my head. It is safe to land.
I stood up, sighing. “Alright. Let’s get this pageantry over with.”