Even though the celebrations of her eighth birthday had concluded more than six weeks ago, the Princess still had enough boxed gifts to fill a small room. She only had the leisure to unwrap the gifts before bedtime and by this point she was usually so exhausted that she’d drop into the second or third box she opened and wake up with varying degrees of aching, depending on the shape and contents of the box.
This night was no different except that the Princess was roused from her sleep when it was still dark outside, and her visitor was no other than her uncle, Herbert Corrino, a cheerful man who jingled as he walked due to an overabundance of medals.
“Hola, young eagle,” he said, smiling broadly under a bushy mustache.
“Hola!” she replied and scrambled out of a box filled with coats to hug her uncle. The Princess knew he was visiting the planet, but didn’t expect to see him until next week when all affairs of state were concluded. This was a very pleasant surprise.
“A very special visitor came to greet you.” He petted the top of her head awkwardly before gently peeling her off his torso. “We must hurry to meet him before it’s too late.”
“How should I dress to greet him?” the Princess asked, realizing she was dressed in a kaiju onesie that she was absolutely prohibited to wear outside of her bedroom. She knew she had to change, but she was not sure into what. At the age of eight, her command of the diplomatic language of dresses was still limited. It was very easy to cause war, famine, or signal the desire to marry simply by putting on the wrong aiguillette. Or was it lanyard? The Princess still didn’t know how to tell the two apart and was deathly concerned of the prospect of accidentally marrying an alien by confusing some article of clothing.
“Just follow me. We don’t have the time for formalities,” Herbert said. “Besides, none would object to a little monster stalking the palace at night.”
“Would you tell it to Mama?” the Princess asked hopefully.
“Oh no, she’s much too scary,” Herbert said. “But enough chitchat. Follow me, young eagle.”
The Princess followed her uncle on a long journey across the palace, occasionally being forced to run to match his long stride. The breakneck pace kept her too occupied with breathing to ask any questions even though she burned with curiosity. The whole affair was highly irregular. Had the invitation been made by anyone except her uncle, she’d have assumed she was being led to her death or kidnapping. However, her uncle was her favorite person in the world and she trusted him without reservations.
Eventually, the duo reached a small landing pad where a ship of unknown design was being cleaned and refurbished by a small swarm of repair bots. It bore the family colors, but the insignia was all wrong. Outside, a dozen black boxes marked with names and ranks stood in a line. A small team of doctors huddled together in the shadows like a pack of vultures.
The Princess gasped as she guessed the contents of the boxes.
Two rows of palace guards in full regalia formed an honor corridor leading to the vessel. She followed her uncle into a cramped space filled with broken apparatuses of unknown types, odd images smeared on the walls, and so much general clutter she couldn’t see the floor underneath. In the middle of it all, there was an old man lying on a bed that smelled of sweat and sickness. In stark contrast to his environment, his archaic uniform was immaculately clean, and his white beard and sparse hair were recently brushed and styled.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“This is Private Joachim Hernandez Stern,” her uncle said after taking a seat on a stool that wobbled under his weight and indicating the Princess should do the same. Deciding every surface inside the ship was too filthy to come in contact with, however, the Princess sat on his knee instead. Had Mother seen this breach of etiquette, she would have offered a treatment that ensured the Princess wouldn’t be able to sit on anything at all for a week. However, she trusted her uncle to keep this little infraction their secret.
Placing a stabilizing hand on the Princess, Herbert went on. “Private Stern is a member of the regimental choir of the Jaguar Knight division. The choir left Oberon to perform at the birthday of the princess and honor her with some exotic gifts from the horror vacui.”
The Princess looked up to see if her uncle was teasing her. “This is stupid,” she said. “He is too old to be a private and this isn’t even my birthday. You are being silly, Uncle.”
The old soldier smiled weakly at the Princess. He was the oldest and sickest person she’d ever seen in her life. He didn’t even look like a man. He looked like a relic from some ancient period, a mummy given animation by an evil wizard, a failed experiment in biology. He felt like death and that made her very uncomfortable.
“I realize,” the old man started, his voice so feeble and crackled, the Princess could hardly make out his words, “that this appears very odd.”
He cleared his throat and licked his dry lips before going on. “We were chosen to represent the division on the birthday of the Princess. But en route, we were attacked by a … by a … band of rozovoi. They were protesting … something … I don’t know. They were angry. We managed to drive them off, but most of our systems were damaged. We had life support, but little more. Do you know what life support is?”
“Duh. I’m not an idiot,” the Princess said defiantly. Her uncle gave her a stern look and squeezed her hand but didn’t say anything.
“Of course not,” the man said. “My apologies. You are …” his voice trailed off. It seemed like he’d fallen asleep in the middle of a sentence, which was a very rude thing to do in the middle of an exciting story. However, the Princess said nothing as the only thing that kept her from doing the same was her uncle occasionally bouncing her as he shifted to accommodate her weight on his knee. It was the middle of the night and despite the plethora of emotions swirling in her mind, the young girl found it harder and harder to stay awake.
“Go on,” Herbert gently nudged the man.
“Yes, yes. It was not a bad life. Not bad. We had books, we had films, we had games, and we had each other.” The Princess felt the man was putting on a smile to hide something awful. However, there was nothing new about it. Men in uniform almost always did it in her presence.
“Well, it took us a while, but now we’re here.” The man smiled again. “Good life, yes. Life with a purpose.” The man closed his eyes and licked parched lips with a purple tongue. “Shame none of the old boys are here to see it. We all wanted to, you know, honor, the … eh …” The man trailed off, again drifting into sleep.
“Without impulse,” Herbert said, “it has taken the vessel sixty-seven years to reach Earth. This was the private’s first mission and he’s completed it with flying colors. He didn’t check on his family or friends. He didn’t stop at a lunar base to see a doctor, even though he is very sick. He came straight here to complete his mission. Many in the Old Brigade could learn from his dedication.”
“It still doesn’t make sense,” the Princess yawned. “You said he flew for sixty-seven years. I’m only nine.”
“The band was sent to a different Princess,” Herbert answered. “Alas, she is no longer among the living. But her grandniece is.” He smiled at the Princess and playfully poked her nose with the tip of his finger.
“Private,” he said after nudging the old man one more time. “It’s not the magnificent reception you deserve, but I’m told by my medical team that it would not be prudent to move you at the moment. And to be frank, you are a little late to the party. So, please, do carry on.”
“Thank you, Admiral,” the old man said. He cleared his throat and started singing very quietly. “Where are the boys of the Old Brigade, who fought with us side by side …”
“The gallant boys of the Old Brigade, they sleep in old Terra’s heart …” The Admiral completed the song for the private. Then, holding the sleeping child in his right hand, he covered the old man with a white sheet and left the ship.