Tusca wasn’t really sure what was going to happen next.
On the one hand, the pirates who were after them, and their apparently-stolen-very-illegal-and-also-valuable cargo.
If they made it out of this, he was gonna kill Kongee. Sky-damned bottom-feeder either sold them out or lied to his face when Tusca asked about the ‘just a few crates’ that the barely-legal businessman wanted them to move.
The Imperial Carrier Pacifica. The flagship of the Human Galactic Empire, and the home of their royal family. She was the largest human ship ever created and was so big she didn’t need artificial gravity. Rumor had it that she was created by a dragon, a djinn, and a god all working together, but no one knew for sure.
How was this his life?
The hanger Luka flew them to was luxurious in a way that spoke of truly extravagant taste. The floors were white polished stone, and it was utterly sleek. Here and there, a few uniformed officers went about their work, but they ignored the Wavedancer, despite the flickering glances that betrayed their curiosity.
“What do we do, here?” Do’ was the one to ask the obvious question in the room as Luka set them down and began extracting himself from the ship’s wiring. “Luka-boy, this is… a lot.”
“Don’t worry,” Luka reassured her with a smile, and carefully closed up his cerebral socket. “I might have run away from home, but that doesn’t mean I stopped being the Heir. The only person on this ship who outranks me is my father.”
“You mean His Imperial Majesty?” Right pointed out incredulously and leaned on his twin’s chair. Left looked as stunned as Tusca felt. “The Emperor of the Human Galactic Empire? The most powerful person in the galaxy?”
“He likes caramels and old-earth movies, and onions give him gas so bad it should count as a weapon of war,” Luka said irreverently and startled a laugh out of everyone. He cracked a wry smile. “And yes, he’s all those things too, but right now, the only person he’s likely to be angry at is me, and probably he won’t be too angry.”
“Reassuring,” Graat muttered from the navigation console, and looked over at Tusca. “Captain, shall I have the crew come out?”
“Might as well,” Tusca sighed, and pushed himself out of his chair, still somewhat rattled from their abrupt, albeit short, tussle with pirates, and Luka’s surprising start as a Red Baron. “Have everyone meet down in the hold.”
“You know you’re not getting arrested, right?” Luka asked as he walked beside Tusca. The rest of the crew filtered out of their rooms, and Tusca felt the startling lack of Roja and Carlito sharply. “And if you were, I would make sure Father pardoned you.”
“Nice to know,” Tusca said dryly. “What should we expect?”
“Father will be disappointed at me. One or two of the Consul may shout a little. Duke-Lord Holland may see if he can get me disinherited. He doesn’t like me much.”
“Imperial politics.” Tusca wanted none of this. “Any chance you can get us clear of this Carrier and out of here before we have to deal with any of that?”
He was half-joking, but if Luka really could…
But no. the young prince shook his head wryly.
“I could,” he confessed, and rubbed the back of his neck before peeking at Tusca out of the corner of his eye. “But well… the politics are bad, but my mother is on this ship, and if I don’t at least say hello while I’m here…”
Ah.
Her Imperial Majesty, Empress Tatiana Viktoria Maria, was a force to be reckoned with. A powerful voice for any cause she believed in, the Empress was one of the most outspoken Royal women in centuries, and her oldest child clearly took after her.
“I feel like we should dress fancy,” Do’ muttered, and leaned on her husband’s arm. Alejandro smiled faintly, but when he glanced over, Tusca nodded a slight reassurance. Alejandro was quarter-ogre and one of the least human people on the ship. Fortunately, ogres were heavily family-oriented, and tended to do well in a small crew, especially as crew-protectors. “Meetin’ all these important people.”
“Wouldn’t help,” Silvie muttered, although she probably didn’t have much to worry about. Luka’s counterpart, she was their cook, and also a specialist in botany. The crew never ate so well until she signed on and turned the mess-hall and her room into greenhouses for fresh produce. Her hair was green under the harsh ship lights, but Tusca never felt the need to ask what type of Other she was. Probably Fae or Elvish. Dryad maybe. It didn’t matter unless she tried to eat someone. “They won’t care how we look. We’re space rats. No one cares about rats.”
“Rat is good eating,” Left protested, and Right snorted a laugh. It figured, really. They were good-old home-grown human, but they were also former street-kids themselves. “Don’t knock rat.”
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“I do not want to be eaten, please,” Graat said faintly. He was the only actual alien on the ship, and sometimes felt it keenly. Fortunately, pretty much everyone adored him, and his confusion was frankly adorable. “Being eaten is unpleasant and messy.”
“No one is getting eaten,” Luka said, or tried to through his snickers. Tusca took a moment to look him over. Barely eighteen, Luka was tall for his age, and had the beginnings of good muscle, thanks to the twins training him in combat, and his eyes were bright with intelligence. “Father does not eat human meat, and Blaec probably is not on board.”
“Oh sure, no big,” Do’ said incredulously and reached over to smack the back of Luka’s head. The prince yelped and ducked, but Do’ was a good shot. “Oh, do not worry everybody, the great Lord Petros, the oldest dragon in existence, who I happen to be on first name basis with, probably will not eat you because he is not here today. Probably. You are not reassuring!”
“Sorry, sorry!” Luka said, but everyone was laughing a little as the ramp began to lower and white light spilled into their small, banged-up ship. “I promise no one will get eaten, alright?”
“That is an ambitious promise, my son.”
The voice was royal, female, and very amused.
Empress Tatiana was stunningly beautiful. Her hair was pure silver despite her relatively young age and coiled around her head like a crown. Her clothes were simple, but made of the very best materials available. Her cape alone was worth more than the Wavedancer. Her necklace would buy a dozen brand new Imperial destroyers.
But her smile was warm, and when she opened her arms, Luka flew into them.
The contrast between them was sharp. The empress in her dark blue and silver gown, and her son in ratty, but clean, hand-me-down clothes. Luka was quite a bit taller than his mother and lifted her off the ground as she laughed and held onto him.
“Put me down!” she demanded, and Luka did, although he also bent and pressed a kiss to her cheek when she presented it for kissing. “Darling, you have grown so much. I hardly recognized you when your transmission came to us.”
“Good living,” Luka told her, and tucked her hand into his arm, unconsciously reverting to the manners he was brought up with. Tusca fought the urge to fall on his face in front of the Empress, and did bow with the rest of his crew when Luka walked her over to them. “Mother, may I present Captain Tusca Pelegrin and the crew of the Wavedancer. Dorinda and Alejandro Duardo, Josias and Edin Armon- we call them Left and Right- Graat of Ha’reet, and Silvie Fashavel.”
“Please be welcome to the Pacifica,” the Empress said when everyone was introduced, and reached out to take Dorinda’s hands in hers. Do’ froze, somewhat stunned and unsure of herself. “Please, there is no need for formality. You are caring for my son when I could not. I thank you, deeply.”
“It was our pleasure, ma’am,” Tusca spoke for the crew because he was the captain, and also because he was probably the only one who could manage actual words right now. The Empress nodded him on as she led them out of the hanger bay and through the halls. He wondered how she could possibly find her way around the huge ship, and supposed it was mostly practice. “You raised up a good boy. We’re glad to have him.”
Empress Tatiana only smiled and showed them into a sitting room that, while fancy, was significantly more comfortable than the sleek, polished hanger and the corridors outside.
Of course, the flooring was sheets of Old Earth marble, the real stuff, and gold glittered on door handles and hangings. The paintings on the walls were of people Tusca recognized out of textbooks, and the buttery-soft leather of the chairs was probably valuable enough to buy a mansion in a good city on a good planet.
When they were settled, uncomfortable and shy, but at least sitting down, servants buzzed around them, bringing drinks and food. Luka served his mother almost automatically, and she kissed his cheek when he handed her a fine porcelain cup of tea.
“How long will you be here?” she asked, not quite tentative, but with softly-hidden longing. Tusca hid a wince. Empress she might be, but this woman had missed her son.
“At least until I have had a chance to see him.”
Luka closed his mouth on his reply as everyone scrambled to their feet at the commanding voice from the door.
Emperor Nelius Hector Gaius was a tall, strongly-built man. His hair was grey-streaked black, and there were small lines around his eyes that only added to the sense of power about him. Luka was his spitting image, although the teen looked decidedly unfinished next to his emperor-father.
“Father,” Luka said, and let his father wrap him in a quick, tight hug. The sight of the affection helped ease Tusca’s mind somewhat. Royalty they might be, but they were parents too, and somehow preserved a small family in the midst of the overwhelming pressure of who they were. “I am sorry to cause any difficulty. As you can imagine, our position was… not good.”
“Yes,” the Emperor replied dryly, and turned his gaze on the crew. Tusca felt the immediate urge to sink thorough the floor and not come back. “We saw the last of it. Should I ask who precisely thought it was a good idea for you to learn to fly like that?”
Silence filled the room, their recent losses suddenly very sharp. Tusca looked down at his hands and heard Do’ sniffle into her husband’s shirt quietly.
“We… had some trouble earlier,” Luka spoke up. Tusca was proud, and glad. The knot of sadness in his throat was still too big to speak around. “A business deal went bad. Very bad. Several of the crew were captured and… and did not come back. One of them was Red Baron, Roja Cortez. The other was Carlito Bernard, Do’ and Alejandra’s nephew. They died to give us the chance to get out.”
“I am sorry for your loss,” Empress Tatiana said gently, and rested her hand on Do’s shoulder, the touch of one mother to another for all that Carlito wasn’t Dorinda’s son. “They will have memorials with every honor and grace they are due.”
“That’s real kind of you, Ma’am,” Do said, and shared a small, sad smile with the Empress. “We all know the black is dangerous. Sometimes that danger gets the best of us. I need to call Carlito’s mama. She’ll be real proud when she hears how brave he was.”
“Would you like to use my personal line to call her?” Empress Tatiana asked genuinely and lifted a hand in invitation after a quick glance at her husband, who nodded gravely. “I understand that your ship is in the hanger for repairs. I insist you use one of mine to see your family, or bring them here if you prefer.”
She guided them out of the room and Tusca felt a little weight lift off his shoulders.
This was going far better than he expected.
“Now,” the Emperor said and seated himself so everyone else could sit as well. “Tell me the story, from start to finish.”